Yall are sleeping on Ace x Riddle and it's about time you guys woke up
Literally the trouble maker x rule follower trope?? Delinquent x Student Council President??
It's so delicious that Riddle is the one who's the year above but Ace is the taller of the two, height difference with ironic twist anyone??
Grumpy x Sunshine but Sunshine is a little shit and Grumpy is a know it all loser who's a stickler for the rules?? Love at first sight but instead of sight it's punch?
Ace punches the shit out of Riddle for being a brat, and they fall in love right at that moment without realizing it?? Or it's at least the start if their romance
Riddle is in the infirmary seething because how dare this first year hit him?? Doesn't he know that Riddle is his housewarden, that he is to be obeyed? That isn't the last time Riddle thinks about Ace
When the housewarden wakes up in the morning, he wakes up with a scowl and a pounding head ache. Why? It's cause he hears screaming about a fire and he knows EXACTLY who set it
Later in the afternoon, Riddle is studying in the library and who does he see in the corner of his eye trying to copy his friend's homework? Ace fucking Trappola.
Students are complaining about a ginger from Heartslabyul? Riddle knows they're not talking about Cater. Everywhere the first year goes, trouble isn't far behind.
After his overblot, their relationship gets better but he still thinks about Ace. Riddle can't take his eyes off of Ace, otherwise he'd break another rule
And that's the only reason his eyes always search for the red hair in crowds, to make sure he behaves. Not because he wants to see him, no of course not. He only thinks about Ace when Riddle sees his test scores because he's thinking about whether or not the first year got a good grade too
Heartslabyul has the best grades out of all the dorms, and he wants to keep it that way. It's definitely not because he wants to show Ace his good grades and get praised
It's most certainly not because he wants to see if Ace got a bad score. And use that as a excuse to offer himself as a tutor to spend more time together. No, why would you think that?
Riddle doesn't "dream" about Ace, no that's ridiculous. He has nightmares about Ace, nightmares where they hold hands. Smiling as they break the rules. When they get caught and are sent to detention, Ace sits besides Riddle and leans in and-
Riddle wakes up with a burning face and a horrible realization. He's in love with Ace Trappola
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[ID: A digitally drawn comic of Toph and Zuko from Avatar: The Last Airbender talking about Zuko’s scar.
It begins with Toph approaching Zuko, who is sitting near a campfire. “You have a scar?” she asks. Zuko replies, "Oh! Uh, yeah… You didn’t…?“ Toph cuts him off and says, "Came up in passing with the other guys.” Toph casually makes herself a seat out of rock and sits down next to him. “Must be pretty badass if everyone assumes I know it’s there, too,” she continues. Zuko looks aside awkwardly and says, “… It’s on my face.” “Ah.” Toph replies.
Zuko says, “Maybe you could… feel it?” “Huh?” says Toph. “I guess, if I concentrate hard enough.” Zuko reaches for Toph’s hand. “Uhm, just with your hand, if you want,” he says. “I don’t think I can describe it.” “… Gotcha. Guide my hand then, boss,” Toph says. Zuko does so, and there’s a pause as Toph touches his scar. The fire reflects in her eyes.
As Toph pulls her hand away, Zuko says, “…. You know, my left eye is almost blind, too.” “Seriously?!” Toph exclaims. “Why aren’t we a tag team yet?! The blind bandit and the half-blind dweeb!” “Come on…!” Zuko moans. End ID]
id by @strawberrygiorno , thank you!
i’ve had this comic sketched out for months but only decided to finish it now, it’s based on something i drew a couple years back of toph and zuko….don’t think too hard on when or how this takes place because i don’t really know either! it’s just a concept i’ve always wanted to draw
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I've been dreaming of the Rose-Red Ruler.
Happy birthday, our most beloved Queen of Hearts.
May your smile be like a never fading flower.
How does a moment last forever? How can a story never die?
A soft knock is at his door.
Riddle tears away from his current textbook--a volume of advanced potions, open to Recipe for Happiness. On the list of ingredients were faith, trust, a little pixie dust, and...
"Come in," he calls, letting the contents of the book fall from his memory.
His mother enters, bearing a tray with a tall pitcher and a glass. As usual, her hair is pulled back into a tight bun and she is dressed impeccably: a scarlet pantsuit, heels, black lace gloves, and a necklace drawn tight across her neck, creating the illusion of beading blood. Mrs. Rosehearts gives her son a stern yet warm smile.
"Happy birthday, Riddle. You're still studying, even on your big day?"
"Yes, mother. This will be the year I apply for internships, so I cannot afford to slack off in my studies. I want to ensure I am the strongest possible candidate for the law and medical internships I'm interested in."
She nods approvingly, setting the tray upon his desk. "It's good to be thinking about your future now--but be sure to take breaks when appropriate. I've brought you some Darjeeling, first flush. Its light and delicate flavor is perfectly refreshing for a sweltering day."
Mrs. Rosehearts starts to pour the chilled tea for him. Right as the aromatic, golden brown stream ceases, she lets out a small gasp. "Ah, yes--your schedule is open tonight, correct? Your father will be fetching a strawberry tart on his way home from work, and I've prepared all your favorite foods. You can eat as much as you want!"
Riddle's stomach flutters.
There are so many things wrong with what she has said, but he exclaims the first question to emerge in his mind.
"We're having a celebration? Together?"
"Of course we are. It's your birthday," his mom replies plainly. "Why wouldn't we celebrate our special little boy?"
"I... I don't know," Riddle confesses. For reasons he cannot explain, his head suddenly feels foggy. "I just can't recall the last time we did something like this as a family."
You've never seemed happy with one another.
He does not dare say it out loud.
Mrs. Rosehearts carefully regards her child.
"Certainly, your father and I have very busy schedules on account of our work at the hospital. You've immersed yourself in your schoolwork. It can be difficult making plans that align with all three of us--but we make time to spend with our loved ones."
Mrs. Rosehearts leans down and plants a feathery kiss on his head, a hand lovingly stroking his hair. So soft, so tender. She smells of roses on a bed of vanilla and amber, the same heady comfort as the exhilaration of collapsing, out of breath, after spinning in circles in the summertime.
The frantic thudding in Riddle's chest slows. He leans into her touch, her fragrance.
"Okay," he says quietly. A slight wetness prickles his vision. "I think... I'd really like that, mom."
He stays there, in her embrace, for longer than he thinks he should. The minutes are slipping away from him, but Riddle cannot bring himself to pull away. The cradle of roses is enchanting, spilling wool over his eyes.
Ding-dong!
Mrs. Rosehearts lifts her head. "Hm? That's strange. That can't be your father. He doesn't get out of work for at least another hour--and he wouldn't need to ring the doorbell, he has his keys."
"It is odd," Riddle agrees.
"Excuse me, it will take just a moment to check. Perhaps it's the mailman."
Mrs. Rosehearts gathers herself and departs. From the study, Riddle can hear the front door swinging open, followed by muffled chatter. Excited, boyish.
His mother's voice, raising.
Dread fills him.
He abruptly stands, his chair harshly skidding back with an unpleasant whine.
Riddle races into the hallway and to the foyer. He's not sure which is faster: his heart, or his feet? His mind struggles to catch up, to process everything--
The front door is ajar.
His mother, on one side. And on the other...
Two young men.
One with short hair in dark green and bright yellow eyes peering out from behind thick frames. He holds a hefty cake in his hands--a shortcake iced in whipped cream frosting, strawberries piled on top.
Beside him is a boy with choppy bangs, a pair of feline ears bearing a plethora of earrings pokes out from his head. He has a lazy grin and disheveled clothes, reclining like a sunbathing cat against the first visitor.
His friends spot him before his mom does, and their faces light up.
"Uh-oh, guess the cat's out of the bag now," Che'nya giggles.
"Wh-What are you two doing here?!" Riddle demands. Not angry, but fearful. He nervously glances at Trey--Trey, whom his mother had angrily banished from their home until the end of time.
"We wanted to drop by and surprise you," Trey explains. He's too calm for this situation--especially when Mrs. Rosehearts is standing right there.
Any minute now, Riddle suspects she will explode. She will scream at Trey and Che'nya until she is a darker red than her hair. She will slam the door in their faces. She will threaten to call the police. She will--
"Riddle, you didn't tell me your friends would be joining us this evening!" Mrs. Rosehearts beams, stepping aside and waving for the boys to enter. "Please, come in! You can spend some time together before dinner.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“Myaaa-uch appreciated!”
Trey and Che’nya cross the threshold with ease.
Riddle blinks. “But what about my studies…?”
“Studies? At a time like this?” Trey gives a light laugh. “We’re not at school, Riddle. You can relax a little. Just let me put this cake away and then we can all hang out, okay?”
“My father is already going to be bringing a tart later…”
“Oooh, double the desserts? Don’t mind if I do! I’ll swipe two slices of both.”
“Don’t be greedy, Che’nya! You have to save some for the rest of us, especially the birthday boy.”
“Me?” Riddle’s brows crease. “I…”
“It’s fine,” his mother coaxes. “Go and be with your friends.”
“Is that okay? Is that… really, really okay?”
Mrs. Rosehearts steps toward him, taking his hands in hers. Her eyes are dewey, and her face looks more gentle than he has ever seen it.
“Yes. This is your youth, Riddle. You only live once—so live this life to its fullest. If you could promise me that, then nothing would make me happier.”
“Mother…!”
Riddle tugs her into a hug. It is fast, it is fleeting, it is a flicker of light peeking through a keyhole. He opens that locked door and emerges on the other end.
He chokes out his response.
Two simple words, carrying all his hopes and dreams.
“I promise.”
And for the first time in forever, he smiles with all of his heart.
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