#mai’s snippets

[tweedfeather]

One day. 💕

[cubbyhole-for-flea-bee]

the shadowpeach levels this season were off the charts and yet we did not get swk holding/checking on mac even once, which is deeply unjust when you consider just how much our favorite drama-monkey was doing to try to keep his fellow monkey's asses out of trouble

like so close! they almost had this moment but didn't, so I'm drawing it myself, these! monkeys! deserve! hugs!

[stellewriites]

ghost and soap that move in together in between missions to save on money and eventually - inevitably - fall into bed together. but somethings missing

they’re both a little too sharp around the edges, need something sweet to ease their cravings and soften their bites, but no one fits right

until you, that is. so don’t be surprised when they make sure you’re sticking around by any means necessary

[howlonomy]

Might I pester you for another monster clover?

clover: just happy to be here :)

[the-modern-typewriter]

Weapon. They needed a weapon. Unfortunately, all they could come up with was an ancient torchstick that wasn't even on fire.

They hefted up the torch anyway, heart trapped somewhere in their throat, and backed up another step.

Three of the undead lurched towards them. They had the swords, the bastards. They were probably actual fighters too, once, not little idiots who should have died before ever being dragged to this nightmare place.

Maybe they'd get lucky. Maybe the torch would be sufficiently stake-like.

Given the terrible slurping noises the protagonist had heard behind them as they scrambled out of the ancient temple, the screaming that went quiet, they didn't think they'd get lucky. Maybe it was karma.

"Careful now," came a voice. Less raspy, more silken, more alive - but not one that the protagonist recognised. "If you back up any further, you're going to tumble right off the cliff. And wouldn't that be a waste?"

The protagonist didn't dare glance behind them to check if it was true, but they couldn't stop their attention from flicking up.

The beautiful stranger lounged a top of the great door, hastily locked again, watching. They waggled their fingers in a 'hi'.

Maybe falling off a cliff wouldn't be so bad, given the alternative. The protagonist still didn't want to die. Stupidly, they didn't want to die.

The undead lunged for the protagonist's throat.

The protagonist swung the torch wildly. It impacted. It just...didn't do anything. It would have at least winded and doubled over an actual person. But the undead...

The stranger leapt down, landing cat-like in the fray. They had none of the frantic movements of some of the lesser undead; ravenous and rabid.

They clicked their tongue and the undead all stopped, eyeing the two of them warily. They skittered back from the stranger.

The stranger pulled the sword from their own belt and offered it, hilt first, to the protagonist.

"Duel wield?" they offered. "Bit more of a fair fight."

It wasn't remotely, but the protagonist would still take it, with trembling fingers.

The stranger smiled at them. all sharp teeth and searing crimson eyes. They bowed their head. Then they stepped smartly out of the way again and the undead once more advanced.

It went a little better with an actual sword. The three undead were - if not dead - no longer capable of mauling the protagonist's throat. It wasn't good enough.

The protagonist crumbled to their knees, gasping in pain. They clutched the sword loosely in their hand. They touched a hand to their shoulder. Bloodied. Burdened with teeth marks. Their vision swam.

The stranger stopped in front of them, still smiling.

The great door rumbled with the force of bodies slamming against it, trying to get out. The protagonist very much doubted anyone in there was still alive in the traditional sense.

"This is fitting," the stranger said, gesturing at them. "I like this."

Dizzy, the protagonist lurched off their knees and lunged again, as clumsy as the undead had been. They certainly couldn't just wait to die.

The stranger merely stepped aside and let the protagonist stagger a step, before swiping their legs out from beneath them.

The protagonist hit the ground hard. The sword clattered out of their hand. The stranger plucked it up, tucking it neatly back into their holster.

"Who are you?" the protagonist managed. They began to push themselves up again.

"You woke me up. In the temple."

The protagonist swore quietly. "Yeah - about that -"

"-I thought the prophesied one would be a better fighter. Less willing to spill their magical blood. You are them, aren't you?"

"No."

The stranger laughed softly, delighted, and grabbed the back of the protagonist's neck, like scruffing a misbehaving kitten. "You're pathetic." They sounded entirely too endeared by this fact. "Come on." They dragged the protagonist bodily away from the cliff edge, past the bodies of the undead, back towards the terrible, terrible door.

The protagonist thrashed.

Predictably, it did no good. In fact, it did the precise opposite as they left blood in the dirt and the three bloody undead began to heal before their eyes.

The stranger deposited them with startling gentleness on their knees again. They stroked their fingers through the protagonist's hair, taking a moment to calm them, all soothing noises and shushing sounds. The other arm hooked around the protagonist's throat, cradling them securely against them. Trapped.

The two of them looked at the door.

The protagonist could still hear the undead behind it. They wailed and clawed - nothing like the figure behind them.

The other undead kneeled in a circle around them and the stranger. The protagonist didn't like the way they looked at the stranger - like they were everything, like they were god. It was far more lucid than they had been before. They looked less zombie-like too. More real.

"Don't do this," the protagonist said into the silence. "Please don't do this."

They already knew what would happen if they touched their blood to that door again.

"Our people are hungry," the stranger replied. "They have spent so long in the dark and the slumber, waiting for you. You can't abandon them now. We can't abandon them now."

The protagonist shook their head. They wanted to say something daring and clever, but there was a whimper caught in their windpipe.

"It's not so bad." The stranger held them a little tighter. "You're going to help them. They won't be quite so brain dead once they've had a bit of you. They won't slaughter everyone."

"Just most people?" It came out choked.

"Depends entirely on if most people are willing to accept my rule, my saviour."

"I'm not - I didn't - I didn't want any of this."

A week ago, they hadn't even known.

"I know," the stranger murmured. "I know you didn't. Children of fate rarely do. That's why their hands must be forced by destiny."

"My hands were forced by cultists."

The stranger shrugged. "Destiny takes many forms."

"You killed them. Let them-"

"-My people were very hungry. Who was I to deny them? Besides." The stranger bowed their head, so their lips brushed the top of the protagonist's head. "They hurt you."

"You hurt me. Your people-"

"I wouldn't have let them get too rough. I just wanted to see what you could do. I don't think anyone expected you to escape the temple and seal the doors again in the first place. Lucky I was around!"

Lucky was not the word that the protagonist would have used.

"Just reach out a hand," the stranger murmured. "And all this can be over. You will be a hero."

"To the undead."

"To what is yours. To what you belong to."

Maybe it made no difference in the grand scheme of apocalypse, but the protagonist didn't reach out a hand that time. They expected the stranger to bark out an order, for the undead to wrench their palm forward and bleed them like the cultists had. A lamb on an altar.

The silence stretched.

The stranger couldn't make them.

The realisation struck the protagonist heady, impossibly light-headed with hope. They didn't understand why, or how, or much of any of the horror. But if the stranger could make them, they would have already done so.

The protagonist laughed. Wild. Delirious. Their head tipped back against the stranger's chest.

"They suffer in there," the stranger said. Less amused. More quiet. "They are trapped. Help them."

"No."

"This is what you were made for. Promised for."

"Then maybe," the protagonist said, "destiny should have asked for my opinion first."

"Please," the stranger said, and the protagonist didn't know what to do with that. "Please."

It didn't make sense. None of it made sense. That begging wasn't how the story went, was it? Ancient evil didn't beg.

"No," the protagonist said, a little softer. "Sorry."

The stranger let go.

The protagonist crumbled, gasping, on the door stop.

"Then I suppose." The stranger stepped up to the door, pressing a longing hand against the stone. "We're doing this the hard way."

[ghost-bxrd]

He huffs, clicking his annoyance in a sharp staccato from the back of his throat, before settling back more firmly against Bruce’s back, arms loosely circling the larger mer’s neck.

Just wait until I’m all grown, Jason thinks mulishly.

Dick and Bruce both tend to laugh or nip at him fondly whenever he voices this. Like they’re indulging a tiny pup saying they’re gonna be the strongest of them all.

Thing is, Jason knows he will be. Bruce and Dick just don’t get that he’s being serious. Neither does Alfred, probably. But at least he’s kind enough not to laugh.

But Jason doesn’t really care, either way.

Bruce rumbles a warning when Dick gets too close again with the obvious intent to continue his teasing, angling his unprotected belly towards the reef mer so Jason is safely hidden on the other side.

Dick pouts, coming closer regardless.

And promptly gets hit in the face with the wispy end of Jason’s long tail.

Dick splutters. Bruce’s shoulders quiver with suppressed laughter. And Jason shoots the older mer a toothy grin from over the safety of Bruce’s shoulder.

— sneak peek of the Mer Au 👁️🌊

[tinyplanetss]

i like thinking about different reasons phillip referred to his partner/husband by his (their?) last name, such as

1. (normal) it's a work thing and so he wanted to be as professional as he could be while covered in flour

2. (gay people) gay people nicknames are just like that sometimes. maybe phillip started calling him that before they got together and it just stuck

3. (gay people 2) it's fun when you're gay married to nod at each other and go "hello mr. blanc" "hello to you too mr. blanc" hehehehe same name go brrr :)

[theonceandfuturequeenoftarts]

Harry is at a Quidditch game, and he’s having a dreadful time. There should be some universal rule that negates this possibility. It’s Quidditch, he’s Harry – it’s the perfect pairing. He should be watching the Wimbourne Wasps crush the Ballycastle Bats and munching on some delightful treacle Sugar Sweeps while enjoying his first date in months.

Except they only have the licorice-flavoured Sugar Sweeps.

Except his team is losing horrendously.

Except his date – Jeanine, or Jeannie; something with a J – is more interested in flirting with anyone other than him. She’d tried to catch the eye of the unfairly attractive man sitting on Harry’s other side for a good twenty minutes. When she made no progress, her attention shifted to orchestrating a threesome with her friend and Draco. Rude.

(And no matter how far they’ve come from the bitter rivalry of their youth, Harry still hates to lose to Mal– Draco. He’d feel worse about that if the other man didn’t feel the exact same way – and if the prat looked less bloody smug.)

This is the last time he lets the blond convince him to go on a blind double-date. Merlin, what was he thinking when he agreed to this?

The Wasps call a timeout to discuss strategy (not that it’s likely to help at this point) and that’s when the worst of it happens. Some genius decided Quidditch needed a kiss cam for the slower moments of a match. If Harry ever finds out who, he’s going to hex their toes off.

That’s the thought that runs through his mind as he sees himself and Jacqueline on each of the floating screens bobbing around the Quidditch stadium.

His eyes slide helplessly to the side, where Jasmine is already inching away from him. This is so bloody embarrassing. He can feel his cheeks redden in mortification and is sure his deer-in-the-headlights expression will be immortalised in tomorrow’s Daily Prophet.

He sure wishes he had a time turner – he’d go back to this morning and stay in bed the whole day.

He can hear laughter breaking out from the other spectators the longer the camera lingers on him. Why haven’t they moved on to another pair? Or at the very least shifted three feet to the right; Harry’s certain Jolene and her friend or Draco (or hell, all three, why not) would be happy to give the viewers a show.

And then he feels a tap on his left shoulder. 

It’s not that he’d forgotten about the extremely hot man sitting to his left. But the reminder of the human perfection to his side while this debacle unfolds kind of makes him want to stand up and leave. Or blow something up.

He turns to Mr. Sex-on-Legs and smiles weakly. The man returns his smile, and while it’s a little sharp, it’s not mocking. Hurray for small mercies.

“May I?” Unreasonably Handsome Stranger asks.

“Uh,” Harry replies eloquently. May he what? Harry swiftly decides he doesn’t need more details. This man could be asking for his kidney and as long as it makes this whole situation less painful, Harry’s on board. “Sure…?”

Unreasonably Handsome Stranger tilts Harry’s face up and swoops in. Harry can’t stop the confused squeak from leaving him – so much for less shameful – and then he’s being kissed within an inch of his life. Holy shite.

This is awesome.

Harry kind of forgets why this man is kissing him and what’s going on around him, because it doesn’t matter. The most gorgeous person he’s ever seen in real life is pressing his lips against Harry’s with intent, with skill – is that his tongue? All higher brain functions have ceased in order to enjoy this moment to the fullest.

When they finally pull back for air, Harry finds his hands are gripping the man’s collar and holding him close. He figures that’s fine, considering the man has one hand wound through Harry’s hair and the other is still cupping his jaw.

“Wow,” Harry breathes, brain still taking a break from thinking. The other man smirks knowingly at him, and Harry would probably take offence to that if the man’s perfectly formed cheekbones weren’t flushed pink, showing he’s not as unaffected as he might pretend to be.

“Er. I’m Harry.”

“Tom.”

“Nice to meet you, Tom.”

This makes Smokin' Hot Tom chuckle, which in turn makes his eyes crinkle up adorably. Oh bother – Harry might be in trouble.

He’s aware, peripherally, that someone behind him is aggressively clearing their throat. He only bothers to care about it when Tom shoots an unimpressed look at the source of the noise.

When Harry turns to follow Tom’s gaze, he comes face to face with an irate Julienne, her glaring friend, and Draco, who can’t seem to decide whether he’s impressed or pissed off.

He shrugs, grinning dopily. “It just isn’t going to work out, Josephine.”

She gives him a baleful look. “My name is Petra.”

Whoops. Not even close. “Sorry – Petra. Have fun with Draco and …your friend.”

He sends a teasing salute to Draco and starts dragging Tom towards the exit. Speaking of having fun – he’s sure they can find an alcove somewhere around here to continue what Tom started.

—

Harry’s picture is indeed in the Prophet the next day. But he supposes that’s only to be expected when he’s caught publicly snogging the visiting ambassador from the French Ministry of Magic.

[maiko-coy]

yoooo! The au sounds lit! We need more angry Dogday.

Do you have more ideas about it? 👁️

Thank you, I'm glad you like it!!! I do have several ideas for the AU, especially around the plotline and a bit of the side drabbles.

Missed Chances AU is basically revolving around the smiling critters in the Playcare (however, its specifically focused on our dear Dogday and Catnap, of course), but I've separated it into three arcs. First arc is the pre-HOJ. This is more on to fill in the backstory of the critters and how they are trained to interact in the Playcare, as well as them finding their own independence and creating their own personalities. This won't be as long as the other two arcs but I do plan on doodling a few drabbles from this arc for fluff and character development. This arc builds up until the Hour of Joy event. Second arc is post-HOJ. This arc focuses more on the events after Hour of Joy and how the Critters survive through it. This arc specifically focuses on Dogday. There will be major angst here with almost zero-to-none comfort because I'm still closely following the canon events. So yes, Dogday will still end up how he is in the canon game. This arc builds up until the canon Chapter 3. Third arc is post-chapter 3. As y'all have seen in my previous post, this arc is where Player saves Dogday, Dogday being vengeful, and saving Catnap. I haven't thought most of this arc yet (considering that the chapters aren't done yet) but I have planned out at least how Dogday and Catnap interacts here, as well as Player, Kissy, and Poppy. Sorry people but I don't plan on making any ships in this AU, simply because I don't think they have the time to in this situation and that I have no idea how romance work LMAOAOAO but I dont mind if yall ship anyone, I'm just saying that I don't plan on drawing any lovey-doveys in here. I also plan on giving this AU two endings: True ending and Good ending, cuz I'm evil like that. Maybe I'll make non-canonical doodles of this au who knows

[lemonrin-i]

Ace the type of guy to run away from his feelings but the moment someone other than him hits on you he's running straight back to you

[unevenpatterns]

Extra scene - Jet learns about the scar (Jetko)

"Ehh, he's pretty in is own way. The scar just adds a bit of character," Jet said lightheartedly.

Mai stiffened and locked eyes with him. "Don't ever say that to him."

Jet held his hands up in defense, "I won't, I'm not an idiot. He does not like being called pretty," he tried to joke to easy up the suddenly icy mood coming off of her in waves. She looked at him in a weird way.

"Did he... not tell you how he got his scar?"

"No? And it's not really polite to ask about where people got scars in wartime, is it?" he shot back.

"Like you ever cared about being polite." Mai mumbled.

"Besides, I figured it would be pretty common to get burns, I mean you guys have fire everywhere," he said and gestured around him, at the frankly obscene amount of torches placed on the walls of the palace. He didn't even want to think about how expensive that must be to keep lit all the time.

"No, it's actually the opposite. It's difficult to burn firebenders. They are better at resisting heat," something in her voice caused small alarm bells to go off inside his head. He let that piece of information and the implication settle for a moment.

"Okay, so what you're saying is that had he not been a bender, it would have been an even worse accident?"

"It wasn't an accident," her voice was tight and controlled. Only those who knew her would notice the difference between this and her normally flat tone.

Jet blinked. There was a weird feeling bubbling up in his chest. Zuko had that scar as long as Jet had known him, and it had been old and weathered from the beginning. As if it had happened a long time ago. Jet wasn't great at math, but he wasn't sure he wanted to get this equation right.

"Someone did that to him. On purpose."

She nodded and looked away. "There's a reason why even the servants like the new Firelord better."

Jet stared at her refusing to understand was she was saying.

"They're not afraid that he might burn half of their face off if they speak out of turn."

[aurae-rori]

TIMELOOP AVENTIO AU SNIPPETS

so i did it

[skhardwarevers1]

if this post gets like…5000 notes I’ll actually start writing scripts/making storyboards for videos I’ve had ideas about for months

additionally if this gets to 10000 (which I highly doubt it will) I’ll actually work on my abandoned stories, book ideas, and poetry

[wikiangela]

tease tidbit tuesday

tagged by @diazsdimples @dangerpronebuddie @loveyouanyway 💖

forgot it was tuesday and it's still tuesday somewhere right lol (tagging y'all for tuesday or wednesday or whenever <3)

so, all my other wips are still on hold bc I posted my 7x06 tommy pov fic last night, and now I'm writing a (much shorter and without repeating all the dialogue) buck's pov version just bc I'm kinda insane about them rn and i need to get into Buck's head at the 'so are you' moment lol 🙈🙈

___

He’s so happy that Tommy makes time to come to the bachelor party, all the nerves about wanting it to go perfect flying out the window for just a second when he sees that smile and hears that soft “hey”, and gets enveloped in those strong, big arms. Damn, he’s big and strong, and Buck can’t stop his thoughts going in very inappropriate directions whenever he looks at him. He has to reel it in for now, because he doesn’t want to rush himself or their relationship, but damn, he wants to devour this man.

Tommy is on standby so he can get called into work at any minute, and knowing how the universe likes to screw with Buck, of course it has to happen. But still, he showed up, and Buck’s heart is beating out of his chest – he made time to be there when he could be resting in case he has to go to work, and it’s- it means so much to Buck, really, having someone be there just because he wants them there. And after the initial outrage, he doesn’t even care about the stupid Henley (okay, he cares a little bit, he specifically said 80s theme, it was for Chimney, who Buck knows would absolutely love it if he actually made it, but it’s fine, Tommy had to be ready for work, he understood – still would’ve loved to see him in a cool 80s getup). One smile from Tommy has him melting, and he forgives him for not following the dress-code instantly. Oh, he already has such a hold on Buck.

___

no pressure tags: @elvensorceress @thebravebitch @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @watchyourbuck @eowon @loserdiaz @evanbegins @ladydorian05 @wildlife4life @diazpatcher @lover-of-mine @monsterrae1 @weewootruck @spagheddiediaz @rainbow-nerdss @epicbuddieficrecs @pirrusstuff @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @nmcggg @rogerzsteven @bidisasterevankinard @giddyupbuck @sunshinediaz @honestlydarkprincess @911-on-abc @jesuisici33 @steadfastsaturnsrings @buddieswhvre @fortheloveofbuddie @daffi-990 @hoodie-buck @aroeddiediaz @thewolvesof1998 @theotherbuckley @tizniz @exhuastedpigeon @underwaterninja13 @spotsandsocks @hippolotamus @your-catfish-friend

[kieraelieson]

An idea.

Logan and Virgil live in two apartments, side by side. They have never met, other than maybe an awkward wave or a nod in passing.

The apartments used to be one house. Roman and Remus died as children in that house, and haunted it as ghosts afterwards. They are somehow stuck separated ever since the update to two apartments.

Now Roman haunts Virgil and Remus haunts Logan. As ghosts, they have a power of being able to summon anything they can fit inside their fist that has at any point in time existed in the house. They have small fists though, as children.

Roman likes to leave Virgil little Werther’s candies around. Remus likes to swap out Logan’s goldfish with one from the past.

Janus is a Reigen-Arataka-style exorcist, and Patton is his boyfriend and assistant who is very taken in by the flash and glitter and believes it fully. At some point they are hired, and then re-hired and re-hired, to get the twins away. The twins find this hilarious.

[prince-liest]

Vox is SUCH a considerate new friend!