#they're drawn together and always will be

[drarryspecificrecsdaily]

2024.11.10

Complete fics posted on AO3 this day

1. better things to ask for by @whimsibeee [E, 5k]

On his way into the forest to confront Voldemort, Harry runs into Malfoy. In a moment of quiet in the war, they talk about everything they wish they had done before they died. They also fuck.

2. Forged Soulmates by Ace_Phoenix [E, 2k]

Harry was always warm, which became quite an inconvenience as every heatwave only seemed worse than the last. Draco, on the other hand, was always cold, and Harry was quick to seek out his body whenever he needed a moment to cool down. That, in turn, became a different kind of inconvenience for Draco, who liked Harry's warmth a bit more than he let on.

3. Friendly Competition by @jaysehasnograce [M, 74k]

Harry is going to be the new Hogwarts Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. He needed a change from the way his life had been going. Unfortunately, he finds out Draco Malfoy is also going to be starting as a Hogwarts professor. Their rivalry is, of course, not budging. But since they're teachers now, they're not allowed to fight (well, they tried, but going against Minerva McGonagall's wishes is never advised). They both become fixated on proving they're the best teacher [...]

4. A Malfoy Misadventure by @jourmattie [E, 2k]

Draco Malfoy had always prided himself on his composure, his ability to navigate even the most challenging situations with a sneer and a shrug. But as he stumbled through the dimly lit hallways of Hogwarts, the world around him swirling in an intoxicating haze, he knew he was in trouble.

5. The Noctis Codex by jjntashi [M, 84k]

The one thing Draco and Harry despise most? Each other. But the next thing? Discovering they’re not just dreaming about each other but are trapped together in the same dreams every time they fall asleep—reliving their most painful, private memories side by side. Forced to uncover the cause of this twisted magic, they’re drawn into a dangerous, ancient curse with ties to the deepest parts of the wizarding world. Now, as they race to break the bond between them, they find that the closer they get to the truth, the harder it is to pull away… and breaking free may mean facing something far darker—and far more intimate—than either of them ever imagined.

6. One More Night by @ghostofnoir [E, 1k]

When a touch lingers...

[lialuvsaven]

Happy Birthday, Aventurine!!

“Aventurine always tries not to remember. He's never synced the Sigonian calendar system to check the date in trailblaze calendar, never makes the mistake of dwelling on the memories surrounding this day— even when he's too drunk to remember his own name. Done everything possible to not acknowledge it; because this day feels like nothing but a curse to him.

Unfortunately, Jade has now ensured that he never gets to forget his birthday, again.”

Pairing: Aventurine x reader

Tags: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Comfort in the end to compensate for everything else ❤️ Reader is not physically present in the fic (they're not dead it's ok)

wc: 3.3k

Aventurine was abruptly interrupted by a knock on the door just as the sun began to slant westward.

With a sigh, he puts down the pen and glances at the wall clock. The hands on the parchment-shaped monstrosity read 1 pm, but his eyes are drawn back to the purple tongue protruding from its massively extended mouth. Seriously, where does Stelle find these items? "An ugly, purple parchment shaped wall clock that looks like it's ready to eat people"— isn't something most people would think to give him, to say the least. But that's the thing—it was Stelle.

She claimed to have found it during one of her "excavations." And even though Miss March 7th did her best to keep her friend from going into further details, stepping on Stelle's toes right in front of him and giving her a sidelong glance, as if he wouldn't notice, he could tell what kind of "excavations" would turn up something like this. Not like he minds the origins of this gift, however. Gifts from friends are few and far to come by, especially ones who actually tolerate him. Not to mention, Stelle likely sincerely believes that it's a cool gift, which is why it has replaced the diamond-embedded wall clock on his wall.

His musings are interrupted by a second knock, which, like the first one, reverberates once around the room before fading away in embarrassment. "Come in." He announces, reclining back in his seat and looking at the door with expectation in his eyes. It was not uncommon for his secretary to appear randomly in his office, constantly fussing over yet another minor issue. He believed it was her; at least, his itinerary showed he didn't have any guest visits today. Maybe it was time to replace assistants—the new hire is clearly not on the same wavelength as him. But he'd only recently had Topaz yell at him for changing staff so frequently; he'd prefer not to tell her that her choice was horribly disappointing just yet.

With a tiny bag bearing a brand he is all too acquainted with, the secretary enters the office. She keeps her gaze fixed on the floor the entire time, hence doesn't notice when her supervisor raises an eyebrow at the sight of his favorite jewelry brand. "Sir," she says in a low, somewhat flat voice, akin to that of a news reporter. "Earlier, a staff of Madam Jade stopped by. You have a present."

A grin appears on Aventurine's face, followed by a joyful chuckle. With how busy work has been lately, he'd almost forgotten when he asked Jade for a pink diamond, as has Jade apparently, seeing how long it's taken for her to send this. His request was a joke, of course, only meant to irritate Topaz. But he wasn't surprised either; Jade always takes good care of her weaponry. "Ahhh, no wonder!" He chirps and presses his palms together. "She must've finally found some generosity in her heart, hm?" He muses, and his assistant can only stand there stoically. He waves her off as she places the bag on his table and departs with an unnecessary low bow, never looking at his eyes once. As always.

When the secretary has left the room, he opens the bag, humming as he removes the box and gift card. Jade's handwriting is distinctive: prim and precise cursive that resembles a font.

"Happy birthday, Aventurine. This jewel would suit you far better than the pink diamond you asked for, don't you think?" — Jade

Kakavasha freezes. His birthday, she says, but she'd need to align the standard calendar system to the Sigonian one to find that out. She sent him a…..….a gift? For his birthday? 

Is this a fucking joke?

The box reveals a chunk of corundum. Raw, uncut, pink and blue hues all over. Shades way too close to his eyes, and it doesn't take a gemologist to tell that Jade had done her searching thoroughly to obtain this. A jewel the color of his eyes, the color of Avgin eyes, neatly wrapped in a box for….to send ..what sort of message, exactly? Oh Avgin, never forget who you were before I found you—unpolished and undeserving. forget your name, but never your roots.  

The note is crumpled and thrown in the trashcan, while the corundum and its box are hastily and carelessly pushed back into the bag. Really, so typical of Jade, he scoffs as he tosses the godforsaken bag into a random drawer, never to be seen again. 

Kakavasha— no, Aventurine always tries not to remember. He's never synced the Sigonian calendar system to check the date in trailblaze calendar, never makes the mistake of dwelling on the memories surrounding this day— even when he's too drunk to remember his own name. Done everything possible to not acknowledge it; because this day feels like nothing but a curse to him.

Unfortunately, Jade has now ensured that he never gets to forget, again. 

In any case, Aventurine concludes that it is not good for him to worry about this too much. Yes, he can just forget about the corundum. Yes, he is able to forget how it resembled Avgin eyes. Yes, he can also forget that Jade most likely sent this to "keep him in check" following the stunt he did in Penacony. But it was a mistake on his part to not see something coming. She had done this before, and it would not be the last time. He smiles at his own reflection in the bathroom mirror, composed, shrewd, and calculated. Since a mirror has the freedom of choice, it does not return his smile.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

By the time the car comes to a stop in front of his house, Aventurine is exhausted. His chauffeur unlocks the door for him, and he makes his way to the elevator. Yet he's interrupted again— of course, because it's a cursed day, and Aventurine has to restrain himself from scowling at the gateman, who stands in front of him wearing an anxious expression. "Sir, your friend had visited earlier to drop off something."

He raises an eyebrow and is about to inquire when he notices the bag the man is carrying. Without saying anything further, he simply takes the bag. You are the only one who'd own a dumb clockie bag and the only one who'd ever drop things off at his place.

When he steps in, his three catcakes meow loudly to greet him, and feels somewhat grateful for it. Today was just too exhausting, after all. He understands what this is about, based on the fact that you always give him gifts in person. Why, of all days, would you consider dropping it off today? And with no advanced notice- completely unlike you. How annoying, did Jade really have to do this too? He's never disclosed his birthday to you, so you probably coerced her into telling you, and she was glad to oblige, given you are of value to her.

Aventurine doesn't realize he's been standing in the kitchen for a long time until Spade begins massaging its fluffy body on his legs. He is surrounded by his three catcakes, who are all staring up at him expectantly. The message is crystal clear: We Want Food. He moves swiftly to get their food bowls, chuckling to himself before setting your lunchbox on the counter, sort of as an afterthought. At least they'll be able to go to bed well fed tonight. 

After serving them dinner, he leaves the kitchen carrying a bottle of wine, hoping to spend the remainder of the evening crashing on the couch. He can just leave everything else for tomorrow. The benefit of drinking is that it can temporarily impair your ability to sense emotions. He only needs a short term fix, after all. Come tomorrow, he'll take hangover pills, and walk out of this house as Aventurine of the stratagems again— undoubtedly.

He turns on a random B-grade movie, prepared to drink the night away. And he does precisely that—he pushes down thoughts of how his childhood friends, whose features now misty in his memories, would react if they were to see him. With another shot, he pushes down recollections of his mother's cooking—the special meals for the Kakava—and his birthday. Another to accept the now-blurry face of his sister in his memory as the only proof of her existence. Another to forget the clay dolls she'd made for him, on the last birthday kakavasha got to celebrate, that were broken when he had to run for his life. And one more shot, and another, till he's forgotten everything; till he's numb and emotionless.

Feeling empty and hollow is far worse than anything else, and being unable to cry isn't as pleasant as he thought it'd be. But in his lavish home, where gold abounds in every nook and cranny, he has little reason for tears. Money may not be able to buy him happiness, as he is well aware, but it certainly does spare him from ugly tears unfit for his visage. Maybe that's why he hasn't cried in a while, or perhaps he has simply lost his soul somewhere along the way. He stays on the couch till 3 am, accompanied by his pets. He pretends not to see the troubled looks they shoot at him, whispered words passed between them that are clearly about him. By the time he decides to rest for the night, he is fatigued, sluggish, and barely keeping it together.

When he gets up to grab a glass of water from the kitchen, Ace makes a protesting noise before promptly shutting up. Catcakes are smart creatures, and they understand him better than most individuals in his life (or maybe the difference lies in care) His throat is dry, and ice cold water from the freezer provides enormous relief. However, the respite is taken away from him by the crackling lightning, loud as a whip, pulling out memories up to the forefront of his mind again. Of the lightning without the rain, of Sigonia-IV. The drumming of the thunder is largely hidden by the concrete walls, so it isn't as hard on the ear—but it aches a lot more than it did before. Aventurine sneers to himself, dismissing the idea as ludicrous. As if.

The second time the thunder sizzles, Aventurine has to take a sharp breath and grip the countertop to steady himself. It sounds like playing dead in the bleeding streams of Sigonia-IV, like the booming cackle of the mocking thunder. Had he been an insolent child, just a little more doubtful than he already was, he'd believe it was Mama Fenge herself laughing at her so called "blessed child". The thunder sounds similar, but it's not the same. No, because this is still Aventurine and he's still here and those are someone else's memories, forgotten and buried in sand.

Aventurine sighs.

Drinking too much has never done any good to him.

Just as he is ready to leave the kitchen, he notices the lunchbox sitting the counter out of the corner of his eye. Oh, right. He hadn't even touched it. A distraction doesn't seem bad now, though. If he wants to fabricate a plausible lie about eating the food, he would at least need to know what kind of food you sent. If the mental image of your frown after discovering he never even looked at what you sent is what gives him the final push , he would never admit it.

The lunchbox has a plains bear cub logo: you've always been a sucker for cute things. He sets aside the little note attached for later this time, preferring to taste the dinner first. It looks like you chose to make him some kind of soup. Insulated lunchboxes are a blessing— because it's surely been well over half a day since you made it, yet it's still warm. While the presentation is relatively simple, it smells strangely comforting— effect of some potion? He's heard of those, but they're usually used for sick patients, no? Other than that, this is the first homemade meal he's having in a….while. Not that it matters. Aventurine isn't picky, and while the leafy greens are unfamiliar to him, he believes he can handle at least a tablespoon.

Even the largest avalanche can be triggered by the smallest of things. Just one spoonful, and yet it's enough to make his world stop.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

The dry, broken soil scraped against his bare feet, producing little clouds of dust in its wake. His strides were light and rapid, nearly tripping over himself with excitement and giddiness. Just a little more, and he'll reach the finish line. Even the Sun's typical glare felt kind today; warm and tender against his tanned skin. Jumping over the homemade hurdles, he reaches the finish line far ahead of his friends. They protest and pout, and he taunts them with the biggest smile on his face. The soles of his feet feel slightly sore from running barefoot, but Kakavasha wouldn't risk destroying his only pair of shoes for a game. 

When he hears his sister's voice calling for him, he rushes to embrace her and buries his face in her apron. His mother once told him that the Avgins all possess lovely voices, but Kakavasha believes his sister's is the best, especially when she laughs.

"And when will you listen to me and stop running around in the middle of the day, hm?" She pinches his nose and uses her apron to wipe the dirt off his face. Kakavasha beams at her with no regrets, proudly displaying the gap between his teeth. Once kakavasha had said his goodbyes to his friends, they walk hand in hand towards their tent.

There, his mother welcomes them with a warm embrace that smells like creosote bush and desert rain. “My darling," she coos, putting his small hands in her larger ones, rough from labour. "I remember you promised to be on time for lunch last time?" He grins cheekily, vowing not to do it again. (He's a repeat offender, but he knows that his mother and sister can't stay upset at him for long.)

His mother laughs, and tells him to tidy up before eating. Kakavasha's tummy is grumbling by the time he returns, and he finds the mats his sister laid down to sit on. The two siblings sit next to each other, chatting and giggling as they wait for their mother. She serves them a pot of hot soup with nettle leaves and lentils, just the way Kakavasha prefers it. He's overjoyed; quickly finishing his prayers before digging in. Kakavasha is a growing boy, and that's proved again when he finishes his bowl before his family.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

The soup she'd served him back then wasn't anything lavish; just a simple soup with local herbs and nettle leaves in a broth that smelt so uniquely of hers. His mama may have had a knack for cooking, but due to a lack of opportunities and resources, she never got to demonstrate her abilities. Compared to that, your food is much finer, and while excellent, it lacks the warmth of his mother's hands.  

Nevertheless, he can't resist taking another spoonful and quickly putting it in his mouth because the familiarity is so, so palpable. He recalls that his sister wanted him to eat better, so she gave him half of her portion after he finished his. His mother then gave his sister half of her portion, as they are Both growing children. All of a sudden, the bickering, the laughs, and their voices are as plain as day in his mind. He can't fully recall the glitter in his sister's eyes or the dimple on his mother's cheek, but it's clearer than any other memory he had of them, that's for sure. 

Aventurine can't stop crying, even if he wants to. Trying to halt the choking sobbing is fruitless, as is trying to figure out what's going on. He picks up the little message with shaking hands, hoping—praying—that it will help. You'll make it make sense. Somehow.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

“Dear Aventurine, I hope you have a wonderful birthday!!!!”  

Written in thin, flowing, rounded letters that are noticeably cleaner than your actual handwriting. You undoubtedly put a lot of effort into each letter you wrote. Aventurine was correct in assuming you found out his birthday through Jade, as you have written it here. "Buying a gift for you seems…a little perfunctory," you said, "so I've settled with cooking you something myself."

"And if the dish tastes familiar (which I hope it does) then yes, you've guessed it right— it's a traditional Avgin dish."

The perfumed ink is thicker here, a few ink blots from where you've likely paused to think, go over each sentence in your head before writing them down.

You mention finding the Avgin dishes by reading some kind of research paper on Sigonian culture and food, but Aventurine isn't sure he can believe that. You wrote, "I was fortunate enough," yet chance alone wouldn't get you something like that. Sure, maybe some doctoral candidate was crazy enough to choose a dead planet and its deader tribes to write about, but finding that paper would be too difficult. The biggest issue, however, is that Aventurine believes this dish should not and cannot exist. The stinging nettle leaves his mother used are no longer available, and while he didn't know much about cooking at the time, he was aware that all of the spices he knew were almost extinct. He's looked enough to know.

"I'll be honest, I had some trouble locating the ingredients for it and had to swap the majority of them because I couldn't find them. I really wanted to bring back a familiar feeling, even if it tastes very different from how you remember it. Plus, it's the thought that counts, right?"

In contrast to the light-hearted language, your writing is slightly wobbly and darker here, and Aventurine wonders if you realise your emotions seep through every single one of your actions, laid bare for the world to see.

Noting the disappearance of their owner, curious, the catcakes peep into the kitchen are immediately alarmed to see their owner sitting on the counter stool, sobbing and clutching a box. Spade, unsure of what to do, nuzzles it's head on Aventurine's leg, while the others meow in an attempt to calm him down. Aventurine hasn't sobbed in a long time—he can't remember how to anymore. His body shakes with each ragged and broken sob, sounding shattered and damaged, but he can't stop.

"I hope it brings you fond memories" is what you wrote down, but are you aware of the full impact of what you did for him? Most likely not. Aventurine cherishes all of his memories, including the unpleasant ones: as long as it involves his family. His misery knows no bounds, but he's only had a few years with his sister, and even fewer with his mother. So even the saddest memories are never forgotten, so he can preserve as much of them as possible. They live through his memories, after all. 

Even when plain, his mother's meals provided him with more warmth than anything else back then. To feel that warmth decades later is a blessing he can't repay— but a blessing nonetheless. He doesn't have many memories like this one either, gentle and happy, contrary to the endless memories of struggling. He remembers their love so vividly right now, feels it so strongly, alongside yours— that he has no choice but to revel in it.

(Come tomorrow , when he's sober, puffy-eyed from crying and not as vulnerable, he'll have trouble figuring your reasoning. But for now, he'll be fine. Tonight, he'll go to sleep feeling loved. Tonight, his pets will cuddle him to sleep. Tonight, he'll dream of a Sigonia Only he knows.)

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

A/N: I'm honestly still so embarrassed about this bc I have an idea but can't execute it like I want to and 🫠🫠 As always, comments and reblogs are really appreciated!! Thank you for reading <3

[bitchslapblastoids]

Prompted by your post about dnp inviting audience interaction: it /is/ really brave, and so interesting! I haven't been watching them for long at all and one of the biggest things that just drew me in and deeply fascinated me about them is how so much of their work (not just on stage) is in some way a conversation/interaction with their audience and the more you watch the more you notice it. No wonder its easy to be parasocial about them and about the Phandom itself!

To me, at least, they seem to be the sort of performers/creators that need a relatively high level of audience interaction in order to be inspired or for their work to feel meaningful. Like, im absolutely sure they could also create things without this close relationship with their audience but it seems to be what their naturally drawn towards? Obviously the problem has been in maintaining boundaries within that but it seems like that's going better now than at some points in the past, which makes me really happy for everyone!

Sorry about the long yap, this is so interesting to me and I just needed to express it a little

yes!!! i love this!!! so beautifully worded! no need to apologize at all - i am in such hearty agreement and actually think about this so often. i think the engagement with their audience is their superpower, and it runs so deep. what was one of dan's favorite things about phil before he met him? phil's interactive adventure videos, in which he was creating an interactive experience for his viewers.

when they film pinof1 together, what are they doing? they're answering an audience-submitted q&a. the audience interaction is literally baked into their foundation! <3

2010, dan's uni dorm. what's displayed behind him on his wall? art and letters sent to him by viewers. he films danmail vids where he opens and reacts to said art and letters and personally thanks the senders.

for years and years and years, what's at the end of every phil video? fanart! draw phil naked! (in retrospect literally so weird lol but shhh)

the ongoing avalanche of vyous and younows and tumblr reblogs/follows and responding to yt comments and retweets and and and. so much interaction. the videos directly engaging with twitter and tumblr creations. they see us, they know us, they get us.

their first book? included a double-page spread with dozens of pieces of phanart.

every single one of their tours has multiple essential audience interaction components, and even more brilliantly, with multiple different access points that are perfectly calibrated to their audience. too shy to speak up? send in a submission ahead of time. want to be a part of the masses? shout something out during the audience participation segments! and there's always the likelihood that they'll include fanart in the show itself, casually mention an actual actively popular fic, throw in an ancient phwedding manip, or just build whole segments of the show around our tropes and the world that we created with them. all of that keeps things exciting and engaging on stage, bc you never know exactly what's going to come next. but it also keeps their audience feeling seen, valued, and like co-creators in a way.

When you look at the other britcrew and big yters from the 2010s, they simply weren't generating that ongoing, authentic conversation with their audiences. their approach followed the simple format of: i post, you watch. and then it became: i post, you watch, then i try and sell you something while i call you my 'community' because you are all watching me and sometimes you talk to one another in the comments. but it's not like zalfie or joe and casper etc. were chiming in on the convos too, or at least not in any meaningful way. it wasn't a community in the same way.

dan and phil truly built community. i think communities require mutual exchange, communication, a sense of value and worth, commonly agreed upon truths, shared experiences, touchstones of connection, and leaders who have integrity. i know this is all starting to sound a little lofty, but i really do think dan and phil are good humans who have worked hard to wield their power and influence responsibly and compassionately. they set the tone for us, constructed this world, paid attention to what landed for us, how we responded to things, everything that we were up to response to what they were up to. they listened. they made us feel seen and celebrated and appreciated, and in turn we continued to celebrate them. they created weird inside jokes, we adopted them, then we all shared the weird inside jokes. they existed, we created our own language and lore and encyclopedia in response, and now there's a whole stage show about it.

that's how you get people sticking around for 15 years. that's how you get people to actually want to spend money on you. and yeah, some more boundaries at times couldn't have hurt. they fostered a sense of proximity and entitlement that obviously put them in harm's way at times. but i'd say ultimately what they've manage to do has been a net good for them and a tremendous success.

you raised such a good point that it seems to be what they are naturally drawn towards. i think it's because they, too, were fangirls. phil was writing buffy fic. dan was running a lost wiki. they both understood the power of online fan community before they were the titans of their own. they get it, they get us <3

[fandomfablesunleashed]

Lovely morning

Ace x reader (she/her)

Chapter 7 of And they were roommates - Modern AU series

--------------------------------------------------------

You woke up on Saturday, the early light just starting to filter through your window. The apartment was quiet, and you assumed Ace was still asleep. You stretched, allowing yourself to savor the warmth of the bed for a little longer. It was rare to have a peaceful morning like this, where you weren’t rushing off anywhere, and the thought of a cozy day was alluring.

As you rubbed the sleep from your eyes, an idea began to take shape in your mind—a simple, yet sweet plan. Why not surprise Ace with pancakes? It could be a fun way to start the weekend together. Motivated, you threw on a some comfortable clothes and some slippers, tiptoeing to the kitchen to avoid waking him.

Gathering the ingredients from the cupboard, you set out the flour, eggs, milk, and sugar. As you mixed the batter, you enjoyed the soft sound of the whisk against the bowl. Before long, the kitchen was filled with the sweet smell of pancakes, and you could hear the batter sizzling in the pan. You worked with gentle focus, flipping each pancake to a golden brown and stacking them high on a plate, feeling pleased with how they turned out.

Then, you heard it: the sound of footsteps coming down the hallway. A few moments later, Ace appeared, eyes half-shut, hair sticking up in every direction, looking like he’d just been dragged out of a dream. 

There was something about the way he looked in the mornings—his hair tousled, his eyes still half-closed—that always made your heart do a small flip. You found yourself wondering, sometimes a little dreamily, what he must look like right after just waking up. The thought of seeing him in that moment—still tangled in the sheets, a sleepy smile tugging at his lips—

"Something smells amazing,"  Ace said, his words pulling you back to the present. You blinked, astonished, and then caught his gaze, a warmth enveloping your neck. There was something endearing about the way he was leaning against the counter and looking over your shoulder.

“Surprise pancakes,” you said with a playful grin, flipping one. “I figured since it’s the weekend, we could both have a lazy start to the day.”

Ace’s eyes widened at the sight of the pancakes, and a broad smile broke across his face. "You're a woman after my heart," he teased, reaching for one of the ready pancakes on the plate next to the stove.

You laughed, swatting his hand away. "Hey, wait until they're all ready, then you can have as many as you want."

You stood side by side in comfortable silence for a few moments. You could feel his gaze occasionally flick over to you, but you pretended not to notice, focusing on each pancake as if it required immense concentration. You felt a warmth spreading through you, a cozy sense of domesticity that was both strange and welcome.

“By the way, you’ve got a bit of batter on your cheek,” Ace said after a moment, his voice edged with that familiar, mischievous tone.

You blinked, surprised, and raised a hand to your cheek. “Oh—”

Before you could touch it, Ace leaned in and wiped the spot with his thumb. His hand lingered, his fingers brushing softly against your skin, and you found yourself drawn into his gaze, struck by the warmth of his touch, and for a moment, everything else seemed to fade away.

His gaze held a softness, maybe even a hint of uncertainty, that thickened the air between you with unspoken tension. Neither of you moved, and for a split second, you were sure he felt it too.

Then, as if snapping out of a spell, Ace cleared his throat and dropped his hand, his cheeks faintly flushed. “Got it,” he muttered, his voice a touch rougher than before.

“Uh…thanks,” you mumbled, directing your focus back to the pancakes, trying to ignore the heat rising to your face.

As you waited a few minutes more in silence, the pancakes continued cooking, filling the kitchen with their comforting aroma. “Um, maybe you can make some coffee?” you suggested, eager to shift the atmosphere back to the casual ease of the morning.

“On it,” he replied quickly, clearly grateful for the change of topic. He turned to the coffee maker, clattering around with the mugs, and you both fell into an easy rhythm—pancakes sizzling, coffee brewing, the simple domesticity of the moment surprisingly calming.

After a few minutes, the smell of coffee filled the air, and Ace poured you both a steaming cup. You finished cooking the last of the pancakes, and together, you sat down at the table, the plate of golden pancakes sitting in the center, inviting you both to indulge. You looked at the coffee Ace had prepared and couldn't help but notice that he made it exactly how you like it, in your favorite cup as well.  It was such a small thing, yet it hit you harder than you expected. He knew. He knew exactly how you liked it, down to the smallest detail. It was one of those moments where you realized just how well he understood you—better than you sometimes let yourself believe.

“This is nice” Ace took a long sip and sighed, contentment in his expression. “Pancakes for breakfast, just hanging out.”

“Yeah, it is,” you said, taking a bite of your food, savoring the fluffy texture and the sweetness of the maple syrup drizzled over the top.

The conversation flowed easily between the two of you.  You talked about anything and everything: movies, old friends, funny stories that each of you remembered. Ace filled the room with his laughter, his stories punctuated by dramatic gestures and expressions that left you laughing so hard that your stomach hurt.

After breakfast, neither of you seemed eager to break the moment. You took your cups of coffee to the living room, sinking into the couch. Ace stretched out, propping his feet up on the coffee table as he tilted his head back, looking at you with a soft expression that made your pulse quicken.

“Feels like we could do this all day,” he said quietly, his gaze drifting to the window, where morning was slowly tipping into early afternoon.

“Maybe we could,” you said, half-joking, but realizing how much you wanted it to be true. “I mean, I think we’ve earned a lazy day after all those pancakes.”

He chuckled, tilting his head back and studying you with a gentle smile. “And maybe it’s nice to just…have some quiet for once. With you.”

Something in his tone made your heart beat faster. His gaze held yours, lingering a little too long, and for a moment, the air felt charged. It was a moment that felt like it could stretch forever, but just as quickly, he flashed a teasing grin.

“Let’s at least pretend to be productive and watch something educational,” he said, grabbing the remote with a wink.

You rolled your eyes but laughed, feeling that cozy warmth settle around you once more. You scooted closer as he found a documentary on some obscure topic, that neither of you had much interest in. But it didn’t matter.

The hours slipped by unnoticed. Afternoon turned to evening, the soft golden light filtering through the curtains. As the sun began to set, casting warm, amber hues across the room, you found yourself leaning into Ace’s shoulder, the movement feeling so natural, so right.

“Guess the day just flew by,” you murmured, glancing up at him.

He looked down, his face close to yours. For a brief, fleeting moment, something shifted in his eyes—something you couldn’t quite place. “Yeah,” he said, his voice soft, almost tender. “Can’t remember the last time I spent a day like this.”

You felt a flutter in your chest, your heart pounding as you held his gaze. But rather than break the moment, you smiled softly, leaning into him just a little more. The warmth in his eyes reflected your own, and for the first time, you let yourself simply enjoy the quiet comfort of being there, in that moment, with him.

[mobius-m-mobius]

Hey let's not focus too much on the Greek tragedy of it all for one second and remember how Loki's time slipping takes him where (or who) his heart points to. And now remember when he just SLAMMED into Mobius at Mach speed in Ouroboros after spending who knows how long in the past... Like what did his heart want in that moment, I wonder.

Absolutely love how we've collectively agreed this is indeed a tragedy to pick ourselves out of and thankfully the power of fix-its makes it a little easier as each day passes 😂💖

You're so right anon and even though it was beyond satisfying to see Loki time slipping closer and closer to Mobius for obvious reasons (even saying his name while he did during several moments), tbh I'm still a little bummed crashing into him didn't become part of the deal too?? Would've been a nice callback to how they forget anyone else is in a room and can hardly move without standing so close they're practically on top of each other anyway, plus if other TVA employees were already 👀👀 at them having conversations just imagine the talk around the office when Mobius continually gets slammed but doesn't miss a beat before making sure Loki's okay and whisking him off as if nothing happened or even poor Don wiping out on his jet ski model when a hot emo stranger crashes out of the sky 🤣

[bumblingbabooshka]

Killer and Consort of a Legend - Averted.

[bikananjarrus]

something i really loved about the rising storm is how cavan scott frames the relationship of the firebrands. this book, of course, focuses primarily on elzar and stellan, and aside from avar's brief holoprojection appearance at the beginning, she’s only mentioned.

but she appears so often in the thoughts of elzar and stellan, that you get the sense that she is with them, always. and at the same time, there's also this distinct absence. this missing piece of the firebrands. and you really get the feeling that the three of them are stronger together, and when even one of them is gone, you can feel the missing presence of that person. they're all fully capable jedi, but elzar and stellan keep thinking of avar, of what it would be like if she was with them. and while we can't see her pov in this book, i imagine she would be feeling the same.

[jichanxo]

date outfit kitakata save me......... save me....

[arcademyth]

something doesn't feel quite right

[theguardianace]

the fun part about being a aroace polyshow fan is i can draw whatever ships i want and its both completely platonic and absolutely insanely filled with love

[flagggermus]

happy valentines day to these fags

[todayisafridaynight]

I’m fairly new to the fandom, but I do have a question if you can answer it! Why do people ship Daigo with Aoki / Masato? I tried looking to see if they’ve interacted before, but couldn’t find anything! Sorry for asking I’m just </3 dumb AND I LOVE YOUR ART OF THEM!!! Nerd looking ahhhhhh

hi ! welcome to the community i hope you're having a lovely time so far and ty for enjoyin my stuff :) no need for apologies it's a very fair question to have :]

i cant speak for everyone (all. ten people into masadai anyway) but Personally To Me i just think the idea of them together is very funny. thats quite literally it im afraid..

[skitskatdacat63]

vettonso soulmate au im begging catie

Soulmates x Teachers

Hehe ty Ari, I had to think on this for a bit cause I don't tend to do modern AUs, but I think what I came up w is pretty fun and silly. As you can probably tell, I like forcing them to be in situations. This is very personal to me, but I love to imagine them as foreign language professors in a relatively small department. Fundamentally they should get along, as they have very similar backgrounds, but they have to fight for resources, so they despise each other…yet feel an inexplicable pull to each other and can’t stop bumping into each other. Anytime one of their students references even just the other’s courses, they just can’t help themselves from making some petty comment, like: “Oh you’re going on an abroad trip? But it’s with Dr. Vettel? That trip sounds cool, but I wouldn’t want to be stuck with him that long.” “Spanish? Oh yeah I wouldn’t take any classes with Dr. Alonso, I’ve heard he’s a pretty ruthless grader.” But on one fateful day, the department head decides that as a bonding activity, they will have to accompany the French professor on a multilingual abroad trip as additional guides. Oh no, their planes seats are next to each other, uh oh the hostel messed up and now they have a joint room, uh oh! Is it soulmates if they’re constantly forced by outside forces to constantly be around each other? They don’t have a lot of obligations as they’re mainly just in France, so they have a lot of free time and don’t want to be alone, so they begrudgingly hang out. And now that they’re away from the hypercompetitive environment, it’s just them walking around on the quaint French town like “omg you like [blank] too??” And then in a couple semesters after the trip, they run a joint linguistics history class, and finish each others sentences and grade papers together, and everyone wishes they'd go back to pretending to hating each other. The petty remarks were more palatable than having to watch them practically commit HR violations in front of a class of innocent students bystanders

[swordmaid]

finally gave yves her own dream guardian (since I was just using shri’iia lol) his name is wren…. they were childhood besties and I hc he’s the one who convinced her to split dye her hair 🫶

[mymarifae]

but like i am so serious. the akito-honami besties agenda. you are all going to look at it and understand it someday very soon (i finally drafted out a coherent pretty long fic about them becoming friends in my head) i’m making this everybody else’s problem

[autumnrory]

why is infidelity virtually never tagged in fic do people think it doesn’t count when it’s two guys and one of them is cheating on their gf