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itsgivingmami · 23 days ago

Note

Rhea who’s been pining after reader ever since they met in NXT, reader was Damian’s best friend and gear maker.

Reader decided one day that she wanted to try making women’s gear and who’s a better subject than Rhea Bloody Ripley?

They get up close and personal in their first fitting and the champion gets flustered…

-Told you long requests were a bad habit, Maggie

A Measure of Love- Rhea Ripley

Enjoy!! Comments. Likes and reblogs always appreciated

Rhea picked up her pump cover from the bench and wiped her face, sweat running from her dark tresses down her temples. The air is cranked in her garage but it does barely anything to cool her flushed skin. The music is loud as she turns to face Damian, finishing his last rep of presses.

“You wanna grab lunch?” Rhea shouts and Damian slides his body out from the bar and sits up. He takes a moment to catch his breath and take a sip of water.

“I can’t I’ve got a fitting for war games,” Damian explains and Rhea feels her heart leap at the mention of her favourite person. “Speaking of which I don’t wanna go all smelly can I grab a shower?”

“You know where it is,” she teases in fake annoyance and he claps her on the shoulder and heads into her home towards the guest room. Once he’s gone Rhea deflates she leans against the bar with her hands clasped together holding her forehead up.

How many years, how many mentions, how many times had she thought of you and still, heart racing and if she wasn’t already worked up from the exercise she was sure she’d be blushing too. There was the assumption that she’d be used to it by now with all the time you spent in her head and not to mention all the time she’d spent scrolling your social media. For fucks sake you’d been to her house at least a couple times during parties, she could probably find you at Damian’s more often than not and you were constantly backstage during raw. That’s how you had met, and since that day not a single on had past that Rhea hadn’t thought about you in some capacity.

“Fuck,” Rhea arms were twisted behind her neck trying to get the buckle on her top closed but every-time she got the fascinator in place it snapped open. “Fuck!”

She’s rushing from the locker room towards catering, she’ll have to sprint to make it to gorilla before her fight but she can’t exactly go out topless either. Her bleach blond hair tickles the top of her hands as she holds her top, she’s relieved having it so short finally but it’s the perfect length to get stuck in the abysmal clasp.

“Priest!” Damian’s turns from the group he’s talking with to spot his friend yelling for him, he excuses himself quickly seeing the worry on her face and for a second he think she’s got some sort of neck injury.

“What’s wrong?” He asks trying to pull her arm from her neck, and she nudges him off. He stares confused,

“Stupid thing won’t stay closed can you try I’ve gotta be at gorilla,” she turns and he takes a moment to look before admitting defeat.

“Stay here,” he says before quickly running down the hall and out of view. Rhea bobbles impatiently as she feels time passing, maybe she should’ve just tried to find a merchandised shirt.

Damian’s boots are loud as he hauls back around towards her, there’s a quick glance thrown over his shoulder as a shorter woman’s comes trailing behind him. Her hair swings behind her in a ponytail, her large white button up, open on her shoulders acts like a cape as she and Damian run towards Rhea.

“Who’s this?” Rhea asks as they meet her in the hall, her eyes don’t leave the woman infront of her, staring up through round wire frame glasses.

“She does all my gear she’ll fix that,” Rhea squints for a minute before snapping back to reality, right her top, her match. She continues to stare at the woman as her brain catches up,

“I’ve got it I promise,” you tell her but her hesitancy has nothing to do with your skill and everything to do with the fact that she doesn’t want to stop looking at you. With a thick swallow Rhea nods and spins around, gently lowering to her knees and allows you to work.

She makes it out in time, the golden lights of nxt greeting her for the evening. Her tops holds strongly as she pins her opponent.

Damian congratulates her as she gets back to the gorilla but her eyes scan the room for you. As she makes her way back to the locker room she checks every hallway for the sight of you but nothing. She rips her gear off the first chance she gets and packs up quickly, throwing items into her bag before heading back out into the busy hallways.

She never did find you that night, but as a thank you she had sent you flowers a few days later come to find out you weren’t actually in town and they had died at your doorstep. That was the first on only time Rhea had decided to shoot her shot with you and years later you were still completely ignorant to the roses your building had removed from the hall.

From then she’d found every excuse to be close to you, came to Damian’s fittings when she could, offered to wait with you backstage at events. Everything but actually make a move on you or tell you how she felt.

“I’m headed out,” Damian leaned in the doorway with his gym bag in hand, she waves him off with a tired smile. She loves her closest friend but she can’t help the jealousy that creeps in. She finally leaves the garage to get a glass of water before heading off to a shower of her own.

She’s in her bedroom pulling out sweats and hour later with a table when her phone lights up with Damian’s contact photo. Probably wants to show off his new gear. She tosses the clothes on the bed and sits down, sliding to accept his FaceTime. Her phone nearly flys across the room when she sees your face light up her screen and she looks down at the towel covering her body.

“Hey gorgeous!!” You greet happily unaware the fluster you’ve put her in. “Do you have a second for me?”

She could laugh if she wasn’t caught so off guard. A second? She had years to give to you, years she’s waited stuffed under her belt. She runs a hand through her wet hair in attempt to look more presentable and nods swallowing thickly.

“Yeah always,” she tells you honestly, her mind tones brings a smile to your face.

“Are you loyal to somebody for your gear?” You ask quickly, Rhea furrows her brows and shakes her head.

“Not particularly I tend to shop around,” Rhea answers and you light up, Rhea hears Damian pipe in with a teasing ‘I told you so,” before you swatted at him. Rhea took your distraction as an opportunity to admire you.

Contrary to popular belief she was not all skulls, goth and black. She did occasionally enjoy the light and airy things in life, some might even call cute and one of those things, was you. The way your hair falls around your face and when you smile one side raises a little higher than the other. Your face had changed over the last couple years as did your habit for choosing contacts over your frames but to her you still looked as tempting as your first meeting.

“I don’t know how you deal with him,” your voice snaps Rhea back to reality as her phone comes back into focus. You’re rolling your eyes at Damian and smiling at her. “You’re never going to get married at this rate stupido!”

“Says the single woman,” Damian retorts and Rhea places her phone to view the ceiling. She hears you scoff as she pulls on a pair of sweat pants and a tee.

“I know how to treat a woman better than you!” And it was true, you did. You had more long term relationships than Rhea or Damian in the last few years and it gutted her every time. It both relieved and filled her with anxiety when you clarified that you were gay for the first time. Rhea had gone from worrying about you and Damian together to worrying about every other woman on the planet. “Where’d you go?”

Rhea tosses the towel into the hamper and grabs her phone and as she reappears you smile.

“Sorry you caught me out the shower,” You watch Rhea shuffle back and lean against the head board,

“I’m sorry I just really wanted to talk to you!” You explain and she feels her heart jump. She’s torn between watching you and watching herself ok her phone to make sure her face doesn’t betray her.

“I’m all yours,” Rhea admits, it feels nice to say aloud even though she really does mean it and you chuckle in response to what you assume is a joke.

“I’ve been thinking about moving into doing women’s ring gear,” you speak quickly a feeling of nerves flowing over you, “and since you and your terror twins are officially teaming up I was thinking that maybe I could do your gear too, could make them match and everything,”

Listen, Rhea knows she should be paying attention to your offer, and she hears you but the way you’re blushing and refusing to really look at her is something she hasn’t seen and it’s pulling the dominant side of her out of the hole she pushed it down into a long time ago in regards to you.

“You wanna make gear for me?” Rhea questions and you nod enthusiastically,

“Yes! Please what do ya say?”

“Hello?” Rhea shouts into the quiet room, her voice echoing back at her. She moves inside and closes the door behind her, the lights above her hum dully, a good sign that you’re here somewhere. She’s only been here a few times when tagging along with Damian but the studio is familiar enough, your loft hanging above the space.

“Hi!” She hears followed by the clanking of metal, she watches you descend the spiral staircase quickly and speed walk towards her. Your arms wrap around her neck, pulling her down your height. “Thank you for this,”

“Anytime,” she replies because any chance to spend time with you is a win in her book, getting new custom ring gear was an added bonus. “So what do you need from me?”

“I need your measurements and then we can look at some sketches,” Rhea freezes in place, measurements, her measurements. She wasn’t sure how that fact hadn’t crossed her mind, of course you were going to have to touch her at some point during fittings but measuring her? You were too busy floating around collecting your measuring tape and notepad to notice the (gay) panic happening. “Cool?”

“Oh? Um-“ Rhea forces a smile and nods as you look at her innocently, “cool,”

Half an hour later Rheas standing on a pedestal in her bike shorts and sports bra, her mind a mental minefield of trying not to think about you and simultaneously prepare herself for you to be so close.

“Okay so hold your arm out a little for me,” Rhea takes a sharp breath in as you gently touch her right arm, moving it to where you want it. “Perfect,” your hands are gentle as you measure the length of her arm and she can feel your eyes move along her skin.

“How come you decided to do women’s gear?” Something, anything, a distraction of any kind was better than the silence. You look up from the tape to her, her gaze remains stuck in front of her, stoic like a statue. “You’re pretty established with the work you do now,”

“I got inspired,” you answer vaguely and pull your tape along her arm back to your waiting hand, “there’s a woman I want to see in my clothes,”

“Gotcha,” she tries to say casually, throwing a quick answer out before her voice breaks. “So I get to be the guinea pig?”

“Hmmm,” you hum as you make your way around her, your finger tips are cold on the back of Rheas neck as you hold the tape and run it down the length of her back. You watch the muscle is her back tense and move and quickly advert your eyes back to the task at hand. “I wouldn’t send you out in anything I wasn’t confident in,”

“No I didn’t mean-“ your soft giggles cut her off as your forehead hits her back.

“I was kidding,” you rub her back gently to let her know she’s okay before moving to measure her waist.

“So who’s this dream muse of yours?” She can’t help but ask. Rhea tries to keep her tone playful but the way her tones drops towards the end of her sentence gives her away more than she’d like. Your eyes seemed focused on your tape and she hopes you weren’t plying close enough attention. “I’m sure Damian could put in a good word with pretty much anyone,” You avoid making eye contact with her as you return to your notepad to jot down her waist number and shrug.

“I’m sure he could knowing him,” you tease but say nothing else about it and it sends the gears in Rheas head turning full force. “Arms up,”

“If it’s someone in my division I could talk to them for you?” Rhea offers and she doesn’t know why, she doesn’t exactly want to share you but the way you’re measuring across her chest prompts her to start rambling.

“I don’t think so,” you giggle and smile at her. Now she was starting to feel antsy, all the past times a girl had shown up in your life she was blind sided, at least this time she had the opportunity to prepare herself for seeing you with someone else.

“Cmon just tell me who she is,” Rhea tries again ignoring your hands on her hips, “I know I could convince her,” why can’t she stop talking?

“I really doubt it Rhea,” you tell her, you lowering onto a knee in-front of her getting ready to measure her legs. You keep your eyes on her thighs as you measure them, refusing to look up. You write down your number before looking up. “Plus no need,”

“Why not?” Rhea asks, your vagueness is starting to irritate her, despite how cute you are how nice your touch feels.

“Because I’m already measuring her,”

To be continued…

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merakiui · 1 year ago

Text

boyfriend.

yandere!female!riddle rosehearts x (female) reader cw: yandere, nsfw, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, obsession, implied (cyber)stalking, cheating, dub-con, alcohol/intoxication, characters written as 18+ note - riddle seeks to prune the filthy weeds from your life, starting with your ill-mannered boyfriend. // inspired by dove cameron's boyfriend.

i. i can’t believe we’re finally alone. i can’t believe i almost went home. what are the chances? everyone’s dancing, and he’s not with you.

Riddle has never traveled to this part of the city before—the seedy, unsavory sliver overshadowed by towering skyscrapers, illicit, perilous secrets tucked away in every alley. It’s not as if she’s here under duress. Although if you were to frame it from her perspective, it would feel less like an active, consensual choice and more of a you’ve-forced-my-hand choice. It’s blatant rule-breaking all the same, a stain on her delicate character. Blight on her shiny social status as a golden child, forever marked as the obedient one.

She’s lived her rebellious streak, was punished swiftly and accordingly, and strived to be better in the aftermath. It was one thing to slip out during independent study, and that fun had been trampled upon by a cruel, heeled foot. That was a child’s error. A lesson learned. A valid reason to sever all distractions and improve academically, consequently maturing with sharp, sparkling intelligence and abysmal social skills.

But Riddle is no longer that starry-eyed, impressionable child, and she does not make the same mistake twice.

Or so she’s always believed, but she’s willing to risk an unforgiving tongue-lashing and life imprisonment at the hands of her mother if it means she can fix things. No matter how she spins it, the truth remains the same: She’s fallen back on an old habit, sneaking out and keeping secrets. She’s an open book to Trey, though, who she’d taken care to message on the train ride into the city, her text mostly cryptic: Should anything happen, this is where I’ll be. It’s wrong to skirt around the truth, especially when it’s your closest friend. She knows this, but then she also knows Trey gives terribly good advice. The type of terribly good advice you often don’t want to hear.

Advice like: “You need to let her go.”

And Riddle can’t—won’t.

So she steps into the digital footprints left by that brash, brutish party animal you lovingly call your boyfriend, and she follows the string of social media posts like a diligent detective, flicking through each with manicured fingernails. She commits them to memory so that they remain imprinted in her mind before they’ll eventually expire at the twenty-four hour mark.

In the days leading up to tonight, Cater had taken her out for their usual self-care makeover day, which was really just a day dedicated to dressing up and gossiping at the salon. It was a monthly arrangement, and it kept the both of them entertained and sane. The latter of those two was called into question when Riddle, wholly out of character, selected black nail polish for her mani-pedi, which left Cater looking on with brewing curiosity. She gazed at him, pouty lips upturned slyly, and said, “I thought I’d give red a temporary break.”

“Oh, but red is so your color!” he insisted, raising his phone to capture both of them in frame.

Riddle smiled at the camera. “I know.”

It has always been her color, a staple in her closet. It’s a favorite she can never truly shake, hence why it stains her lips instead. Bright like arterial blood, a blossoming carnation, it stands out starkly on her pale countenance—the only splotch of color on her person. Cater took her shopping when he’d learned she was attempting to fit a new style into her wardrobe of prim, modest clothes. They ran up and down the racks, grinning at each other from across the store and holding up sweaters and skirts, weighing whether either would suit Riddle’s night out. In the end, she settled for the outfit she wears now: a red tube top, a cropped puffer jacket, a pencil skirt that doesn’t pass the fingertip test (not that she cares to follow that rule), tights, and knee-high heeled boots. To finish the look, she’s pulled her hair from its usual plaits, allowing it to cascade down her back like a crimson waterfall. Fingerless lace gloves adorn her hands, stitched with intricate patterns of roses and thorns.

Cater called it the Femme Fatale Friday fit. It’s a Saturday night, but it feels like Friday when she peers at her reflection in a pocket mirror, checking her makeup once more.

She will not make the same mistake twice. She’s a paragon of perfection—Riddle Rosehearts, for seven’s sake!

Stuffing the mirror into a matching handbag, she eyes the skyscraper looming before her, sleek with its metal framework and industrial glass. The bright cityscape reflects off of each window, dazzling with luminous specks of light. She considers the contents in her purse, reviews each with a critical eye, and inhales a steadying breath.

This is necessary.

She’s an adult now, nearly finished with her graduate studies. She lives on her own in a quaint, pet-friendly apartment with her hedgehog, and she works part-time at the café down the street, putting forth her best effort as she weathers the woes of university. Despite all of this independence, she doesn’t feel like an adult.

Not when she can hear her mother in the back of her head: You look ridiculous. Come home right now before you make a fool of yourself and sully my good name.

Riddle scowls at the concrete, curling her fingers into fists.

She’s an adult now. She is not her mother’s doll.

Leaving all hostility and self-doubt at the door, she steps through the lobby and beelines for the lift. It carries her to her destination—one of the highest floors. A penthouse suite.

And not just any penthouse suite. Floyd Leech’s penthouse suite.

Under normal circumstances, she would never willingly set foot in his territory. She survived four years of school with him, which was already a sickening amount, and in that time she watched him glide through his undergraduate with just barely passing grades. That wasn’t enough to stoke the red-hot embers of envy, though. It only made him seem even more like a cockroach, unable to be crushed by the weight of scholarly responsibilities, for he never took anything seriously.

For that reason, Riddle has never envied Floyd. But by the end of their third year, he had something Riddle didn’t.

He had you.

How he managed to settle into a relationship when all he did was slack off, party, and break the rules was beyond Riddle. He was a slippery delinquent, hardly deserving of your sweet affections, and yet you looked at him like he was the only one on the planet. Just where was the appeal? His manner of dress is sloppy. The way he carries himself is unpalatable and crude. The way he acts suggests his insipience is incurable. Even when he applies himself, he is still Floyd and that doesn’t clean his slate or shine his reputation. So in Riddle’s discerning eyes, he does not possess a scintilla of romantic appeal.

You don’t seem to agree with these sentiments, for you’ve been with Floyd for four long years.

Love is blinding, but Riddle has never been in love before and so she doesn’t have adequate data to prove this point. It was forbidden in her home. She’s only allowed to love the men her mother handpicks, plucking each specimen like they’re ripened strawberries from a bush. In the beginning she found all manner of minor details to excuse them from her life, insisting upon a nonexistent list of impossibly high standards. He was too tall. He was too forward with his interest. He wore contrasting colors. He didn’t like tea. These reasons were far too critical and childish, and each man had been sent away in a huff. Her mother would scold her, halving her with a nasty glare: “Are you planning to die alone?”

Yes, Riddle realized by the twentieth admonishment, yet another man cast aside. If dying alone means romantic freedom in life, I’ll do just that.

The elevator spits her out into the hall, which isn’t as silent as she thought it’d be. Bass shakes through the walls, reverberating all the way through her ribs as if it intends to stir up her organs. She catches her reflection in the windows, noting the dark, monstrous scowl, and smooths her face into something courageous. She means business as she clicks down the hall, preparing herself for the whirlwind that undoubtedly waits behind the door. Riddle starts to wonder how Floyd’s neighbors have yet to file a noise complaint and then stops, her thoughts cutting off abruptly. It’s a challenge to make complaints when your father holds parts of the city’s underground in his palms.

He’s got it easy, that spoiled pest.

Riddle’s gait slows to a halt and she reaches out to knock thrice. The door is thrown open before she can even bring her fist down. Soon she’s staring at a rosy-cheeked stranger, whose eyes trace her figure like he’s trying to paint her on his mental canvas. She’s prepared for the worst, having tucked the spray in her bag, its container disguised to look like lipstick. The strawberry keychain hanging from her purse is a self-defense alarm, ready to be pulled at a moment’s notice. His ogling does not frighten her, nor do his intentions, if he can even harbor any in that intoxicated brain of his. She’s braved scarier horrors. Like living out years of her life with her mother.

“Heyyy, you one of Floyd’s girls? Here for the party?”

Riddle suppresses the disgusted shiver threatening to crawl up her spine, swallowing bile. “Just the party.”

She is no one’s girl. Definitely not Floyd’s.

When she’s let inside and the stench of sweat and alcohol assault her nostrils, coupled with the too-loud party music, she considers retreating, her mother’s judgment echoing: You look ridiculous. Her fingers twitch towards her purse. One text and Trey would pick her up. One call and Cater would be on his way. But then she’d be forced to tell them the truth—would have to admit that she’s chasing the one person she can never have.

She hardens her resolve, pushes through the throng of bodies in an effort to find refreshments, and there you are, her perfect, pretty wallflower in a perfect, pretty silver dress. The dim neon lighting casts you in a luscious pink haze, and she watches you scroll through your phone, your eyelids falling and opening. You’re so beautiful—the sweetest thing she’s ever seen, more saccharine than a truckload of strawberry tarts. Her hand slides away from her purse, and she tamps down a gleeful smile, stepping over to you with newfound confidence.

“(Name)?”

You turn your whole body towards her, your gaze unfocused. She can smell the liquor on you, can see the hickeys not quite covered by a velvet choker. Her gaze narrows. He’s all over you, isn’t he? From top to bottom, you are covered in traces of him. Her nose scrunches. Just what do you see in him?

It should be her teeth on your skin, tearing it open, bruising it, tasting slick copper on her tongue. It should have always been her, but it’s not. Why did you have to settle for less when you’re entitled to so much more?

You peer at her like she’s something in a museum, perplexing and abstract. And then it clicks. You gasp, your mouth falling open in awe, and your words come out horribly slurred. She fails to hide her wince when you throw your arms around her, hanging off of her like a tote on a shoulder.

“Riddle! You…seriously showed up… Can’t believe it’s really you. It feels like it’s been forever.” You pull away, swaying with the motion, and place your hands on her arms. “Your outfit is suuuper cute.”

She’s blushing. She knows she is because her face is burning with heat and suddenly it’s much too stifling in here. “Oh. Ah, um, t-thank you very much… You look very nice, too.”

Really? Is that the best thing I could say? ‘You look very nice’? Honestly, Riddle…

But you smile, and the sight steals her heart all over again. You can have it. By all means take her heart. Take it and love it to pieces. That way it will be fair when she takes yours. An even exchange in accordance with the rules of love.

Or maybe it’s more so the rules of romantic warfare, carried out to the extreme on a chessboard. Or a croquet court. Something sporty and metaphorical, anyway.

“Where’s your boyfriend?” she asks, refusing to say his name lest she speak him into existence and tarnish her near-perfect evening.

Her question strikes a chord within you, and you heave an exaggerated sigh. You cross your arms over your chest, leaning against the wall for support. “Left me to go hang with the guys. S’not fair!” you whine, sliding further down until you’re sitting in a defeated heap.

Riddle bends down to your height, her tone as soft and sympathetic as her expression. “Does he always do this?”

Hurt flashes across your face, but you don’t say anything. So he does. Why is she not surprised?

Who in the world leaves their partner at a party, vulnerable and alone? Riddle thinks, anger flaring up in her chest. Someone could take advantage of you. You’re in no state to be standing here by yourself. That fool… He doesn’t know how to treat a lady at all. How have you put up with him for four years? Your patience amazes me.

“It’s not like…” You shut your eyes and rest your head against the wall. “Not like an always-happening thing…”

Riddle isn’t going to sugarcoat it. She wants her words to cut deep, all the way to the heart you’ve allowed Floyd to bind. “Whether or not he does it often, the fact still stands that he left you intoxicated in the corner of this room. That’s careless and unsafe.” She tilts her head, admiring the way you’ve done your makeup, the way your plush lips jut out in a miserable pout. And it just rushes out, words she’s thought but never had the courage to say. At least, not to the sober you. “I wouldn’t do that to you. You deserve so much better.”

Like me, she almost adds, but that’s too direct. And she’s not even sure the admission will land when you’re so out of it.

“Appreciate it…” You scrub your face, groaning. “Ugh. I feel sick…”

“Would you like to get some fresh air?”

You shake your head, stubborn to a fault. “Can’t. Gotta wait for Floyd.”

Riddle frowns. “I highly doubt he’s coming back anytime soon.”

“Still.”

“At the very least, let’s get you some water.” She offers her hand, hoping and praying to the heavens above that you’ll take it.

You do. It’s a flawless fit. Her heart flutters, weightless and feathery, when her fingers close around yours. She wonders what moisturizer you use, what sort of lotions kiss your skin. Are they scented, or is that just your perfume? Or have you done away with perfume for tonight and is that a natural fragrance? Or maybe it’s the sweet scent of a fruity wine, printed on your tongue like a delicious tattoo.

She wants to kiss you.

“Just how much have you had to drink?”

“Like a cup or two? I…dunno. Does it matter?”

You stumble when she helps you up, grabbing at her shoulder for support. Riddle almost falls back, but the wall braces her. You place your palm right by her head, and suddenly you’re leaning in, inadvertently pinning her to the wall. Her pupils nearly eclipse her blue-grey irises, and her breath sticks in her throat. Oh, you’re so close. You’re a drunken mess, pushing yourself up against her, your beauty enveloping her like a chrysalis. If this is a dream, she never wants to wake, for the world that awaits her beyond this is cold and colorless.

Your head lowers to the dip between shoulder and neck, and she gazes heavenward. The ceiling is much nicer at this moment, if only so she can clear her own heady haze of impure thoughts.

There are people about, she has to remind herself, shaking off the urge to close her fingers around your chin and tilt your head up to meet her mouth. And she has a boyfriend. Just because I can doesn’t mean I should.

But the chance is much too beguiling. You’re right here, quite literally within her reach, and Floyd’s nowhere in sight. It’s too perfect. She can’t quite wrap you in an affectionate embrace—though that is an irresistible urge she must fight off—so she settles to rub circles into your back instead, dutifully reflecting the role of a concerned friend. It’s not the part she wishes to play. Rather, she’d gladly take on the title of boyfriend if it meant you’d feel loved. Every day, at every hour, for the rest of your life. She’d do all the things Floyd ought to do: care for you, appreciate you, protect you, stay by your side through thick and thin.

Love is a dangerous, thorny thing, but it’s the encroaching jealousy that kills.

Floyd doesn’t deserve you. If anything, he deserves a mouth full of soap to scrub every profanity he’s ever uttered. Just what does he tell you in bed? That you’re a good girl? That you’re soooo tight? That you can take it? Does he know which ways you like it? Does he know where to touch so you’ll unravel faster? Does he know how to get you properly, thoroughly worked up, so much so that it feels like your skin is aflame with potent want and desire?

Does he even know your anatomy, or are you simply a body for his avaricious appetite?

Like roses twining possessively around a trellis, Riddle holds you close in her arms, her hand sweeping across your lower back. Her glacial eyes scan the crowd, warding off anyone who may be curious with her most malevolent death stare.

“Mm… I need to lie down. My head is…spinning…”

With that, the murderous, overprotective haze sticking to Riddle like a poisonous fog dissipates. A sickly sweet smile widens on ruby-red lips. “Let’s find someplace quiet.”

Together, the two of you stagger-walk out of the room, leaving the party and its inhabitants behind. Crossing through the attached kitchenette, Riddle pilfers a bottled water from the fridge.

Her mind is sharp as a cut diamond. Her skin prickles with anticipation.

Down the hall you go, with Riddle supporting you with what minimal physical strength she has. A door looms before the both of you, cast in a comfortable glow from a neighboring skyscraper, and you struggle to pull your heels off while she pushes the door open. It reveals a messy room, clothing and candy wrappers strewn about sloppily.

Riddle feels like she’s on top of the world, and she is. Up in the clouds on the forty-third floor of this luxurious penthouse apartment.

ii. i could be a better boyfriend than him. i could do the shit that he never did. up all night, i won’t quit.

All throughout her undergraduate, Riddle pined. Hopelessly. Forlornly. Desperately.

Hungrily.

It was unbecoming to want something to such an obsessive degree. She buried herself in her studies to do away with lustful delusions, each more distracting than the last. But then you would crop up in her life when she least expected it and soon the two of you were studying together. Soon you were visiting her dorm to watch movies during the times in which she allowed herself the break (and she only did so because it was you). Soon you were spending nights in her room, sleeping sprawled on the floor even though she offered her bed time and time again. You’d get ready in the mornings, debating what the breakfast menu would entail. She’d watch your reflection in the floor mirror as you pulled your shirt up and over your head, eyeing the way you slid seamlessly into a lacy black bra. And then she’d change out of her nightgown, and you’d comment on her undergarments.

“We should go shopping sometime. You gotta get cuter stuff!”

“Why should I? No one’s going to see it,” she insisted with a flustered huff.

“I’ll see it the next time I sleep over,” you told her, smiling innocently as you stepped into a blue handkerchief skirt. “Besides, there are so many cute sets you could wear. You’d look so pretty in something red and frilly. You’re totally missing out.”

Riddle considered it back then. Your eager eyes had almost won her over, but she was firm in her decision. “I’m fine with what I have now.”

And the conversation ended there. She really wishes you would have pushed it back then because just a little nudge in that direction and she would have given in, entirely at your mercy.

Selfishly, she just yearned to be stuck in a changing stall with you.

All throughout her undergraduate, Riddle fostered a special sort of friendship with you. You’d stop by her dorm during finals to insist she take a break, your offer too tempting. She’s always been weak to sweets. You were close enough to exchange intimate details with one another. She listened to all of your dating woes, and conversely you’d sit still and bear witness to her ramblings about fascinating law facts. Sometimes she’d rant about her mother. You always listened. “She sounds like she sucks,” you said once. “How are you even related to her? You’re so nice.”

It was a pleasant three years. If she deluded herself enough, she could have pretended you were her girlfriend and then she’d have something to tell her mother to put an end to the countless attempts at scoring her a husband. I will never marry any of your options, she would think, playing the confrontation out in her head. I have a partner now and we’re very happy together. Sometimes Riddle imagined her mother tossing darts at a board with photographs of men attached to it, disregarding compatibility altogether in favor of upholding traditional rules. But then Riddle realized she’d have to die before she could ever admit her own romantic freedoms to her mother, and so that conversation only ever came about in daydreams.

I’d rather die alone than live life shackled in a loveless marriage. She wonders if her father thought the same.

Those three years had been a wonderful reality, filled with sugared, candy-coated love. A one-sided love, sure. But Riddle could settle for platonic affections, for that was just as sweet.

And then he arrived at the doorstep to Riddle’s fantasy cottage, kicking the walls down and sweeping you off your feet.

Floyd Leech has always been a nuisance. You were there to shoo him away every time he came knocking, all broad grins and vexatious jeers. He listened to you most days, a mutt without proper leashing, oddly loyal to you. As if you were his keeper of sorts. Riddle was amazed, befuddled, and worried all at once. Unlike her, you could keep your cool, could still smile so kindly even when Floyd was being an utter pain in the ass with his foolish nicknames. When he tried to pluck Riddle’s hairpin from out of her braids—a handmade gift you had given her for her birthday—she slapped him hard across the face and hissed, “Don’t ever put your filthy paws on me again.”

And maybe it was because you were there that she was able to recover shortly after the outburst. (Although she still meant that slap with every fiber of her being.) Maybe you were her collar. Maybe you were her keeper. Maybe she was meant to meet you so that you could color her world, lead her along into the friendship she’d been robbed of as a child.

Looking back, Riddle realizes that was the catalyst. Because when Floyd cradled his bright-red cheek, giggling like a maniac, you asked him, “Don’t you have anything better to do? Can’t you bother someone else?”

And then you were made the prime target.

What’s worse is that you reveled in it, adored every ounce of attention Floyd gave you like it was something holy, later admitting to Riddle during a movie marathon that you “wondered if Floyd was seeing anyone.” She wanted to retch. You, a seraph incarnate, with a devil like Floyd? Impossible. But your tone was so whimsical; you were dreaming of it. You liked him.

She couldn’t believe it. Didn’t want to believe it.

By the end of her third year, just as finals gave way to summer, you threw your arms around Floyd’s neck while he pressed you up against the trunk of a flowering tree. Pink petals fluttered to the ground, and with the falling blossoms came Riddle’s hope, crashing and burning in a heartbroken heap.

She won’t make the same mistake twice, which is precisely why, when you flop onto Floyd’s unmade bed, she turns the lock to keep all outside influences away. The party is but a mere muffle now, thrumming through the floorboards with reckless abandon.

Her nose wrinkles at the pile of dirty laundry. Slob, she thinks, brimming with hate. What does she see in you? You’re a mess, you’re definitely a criminal, you can’t keep a stable job, you throw obnoxious parties every other week, you leave your own girlfriend unattended… What part of that is appealing? She gazes at you next. You’re too good for him, (Name). You can do so much better. Raise your standards. Find someone respectable and attentive. Someone who’ll stay with you forever. Someone who won’t let you get stupidly drunk and then run off to Queen-knows-where.

“Someone like me,” she mutters.

You have to be coerced into drinking, and you’re so sleepy that the water dribbles down your chin. Riddle tuts at you, swiping the liquid away with her sleeve.

“You’re a mess,” she says, affectionate despite the barb.

You’re my mess.

She slides your heels off, casting them elsewhere. You look like a starfish when you lay sprawled, or maybe you’re more like a snow angel. Only rather than snow, you imprint yourself amongst wrinkled sheets. Riddle knows it’s wrong, but you’re right here. She’s waited so many years for a moment like this one.

It’s not fair.

She unzips her boots, kicks them off, and stands at the edge of the bed, locked in a fierce debate. You should have thrown your arms around her that day. You should have kissed her, should have spent the last four years with her, should have stayed in her life like the permanent fixture you were destined to be. She’s never wanted anything more than this. Not even a surplus of strawberry tarts. Not even the dreams she’s working tirelessly towards achieving. She’s only ever wanted you.

But Floyd took you away, and her world has never been the same since.

The mattress dips under her weight; she’s made up her mind.

“Do you remember the promise we made?” she whispers, running her hands up your legs. You lift your head to look at her, eyes glassy with inebriated exhaustion. “The one in which we’d live together after graduation? You said you’d want to live somewhere pet-friendly so we could get hedgehogs and name them Tweedledee and Tweedledum.”

You hum, your lashes fluttering.

“We could still do that. Just you and me. Without your boyfriend.”

“What?”

Her fingers catch on the waistband of your panties. “Hm?”

“Mm, no, nothing… You should get going. It’s late…” “Someone has to look after you.”

“Floyd can.”

She presses her thumbs into your hips and the tiniest gasp leaves your parted lips. “But Floyd’s not.”

“He will.”

“He won’t,” she snaps. Something flickers in your eyes, a flash of unrest. Riddle chews her lower lip. “He’s… (Name), what do you see in him? Honestly, truly, what is it? Please educate me. Please… What does he have that I don’t? What makes you stay?”

“Cuz he’s my boyfriend,” you mutter slowly, perplexed, “and I love him.”

“Do you?”

“Riddle, why are you so…” The words fizzle out on your tongue when her touch strays too close to home. “Wait… We can’t… Not in here.”

“Why not? It’s just one more mess. He won’t even notice.”

“That’s not it… Riddle, wait. I… I don’t like you in that—”

She collapses, anchoring herself to you, her manicured nails digging deep into your arms. And then her mouth is on yours, clumsy and uncoordinated. She doesn’t want to hear it—can’t bear to hear it. She knows the truth. It’s haunted her from the day she met you, a shadow looming like a guillotine’s blade. You were fated to be forever out of reach. Just like those strawberry tarts in the bakery window. The kiss is filthy, all desire and zero skill. Her tongue flashes into your mouth. It’s nothing like the way they describe it in fiction or portray it in films. It’s obscene. Sinful. Libidinous. Her lipstick smears; she tastes the wine in your throat, licks your teeth and nibbles your lip, delicate and gruesome all at once. She tries her best, unyielding.

The technique doesn’t matter. Not now, anyway. It’s just blind, unrequited passion. She’ll learn it eventually and when she does she’ll kiss you drunk. It’s just another thing she’ll master. And she will because that’s just who she is. Give her a textbook and she’ll have it memorized. Give her a kiss and she’ll return to practice it to perfection.

She pulls away, panting, her lipstick in disarray. It’s all over you, smudging on the corners of your mouth. Running a hand through her hair, her figure outlined in the tantalizing glow from the city lights, she licks her lips.

“Riddle…”

Spoken soft like prayer, it’s a whisper she’ll treasure. Over and over, without end, repeat it like a mantra.

“Riddle, please…”

“He doesn’t know anything about your preferences, does he?” Your dress is slid up next. She traces a heart into your bare stomach, capturing your navel in invisible lines. You shudder under her touch, grabbing at her wrist with a limp hand. She brings it up to her lips and presses a chaste kiss to the top of it. “I know you much better than he does. I always have.”

To prove it, she presses two fingers to your clothed pussy. You whine, reedy and high-pitched. “But…”

“I read it takes fourteen minutes for women to reach their end during partnered sex.” She levels you with a half-lidded stare, smirking. What she lacks in skill, she makes up for in raw confidence. “I’ll only need less than that, so you won’t have to feign anything for my sake. I know you well enough, my rose.”

A wide range of emotions waltzes across your countenance. Your arm falls over your face next. It’s defeat or hesitant acceptance, but to Riddle it’s love.

“Ten minutes,” you whisper, conceding. “And then…you need to leave.”

She makes you cum in just five, covers you in lipstick prints, each kiss a sly cover-up. Floyd may be all over you, bites and bruises blooming new and old, but he’s not inside you, wringing you out like a sodden towel. You sob like you’re in heat when she sinks her fingers into your slick warmth, scissoring so slowly, until you’re begging her to make you cum again. Your fluids soak through the sheets. The scent of sex and sweat hangs heavy in the air. She’s alive, wildly untamed, a knight who’s just rescued the princess and slayed a bloodthirsty dragon.

Her head is between your thighs next, her hands braced on either leg to keep them apart. You watch her with glazed eyes, soon throwing your head back when she slides your hood up to reveal your pretty, pert clit. Experimentally, she licks a teasing stripe up your slit. You shiver and dig your fingers into her scalp, imprisoning her there. It’s where she’s always wanted to be.

“Tell me,” she murmurs, the words fanning across your pussy, “if he’s so good, why haven’t you proven it? Is this the most you’ve ever cum in a night? Does he please you or do you please him? If he’s everything you’ve ever wanted, why are you still so unsatisfied?”

“Because… B-Because!”

Your protests are fragmented and spotted with gasps. That’s arguably more telling than a detailed response.

Riddle smiles like a Cheshire, her eyes narrowed victoriously. Spidery digits creep along your thighs. Her thumbs dip into your pussy, spreading it wide for her viewing pleasure. “Don’t think of him. Tonight, it’s just you and me. I’ll give you what you’re owed. That and so much more.”

Like a fragile statue, you topple. Right into her, bucking against her mouth like the world is ending, and she’s there to steady you.

She always is.

iii. i’m gonna steal you from him. i could be such a gentleman. plus, you know my clothes would fit.

“Sooo… Gimme the goss. How was your night out?”

Riddle looks up from an assortment of nail polish colors, each one more red than the last, and says, “It was more enjoyable than I thought.”

“Yeah?” Cater prompts, brows raised. “Don’t be so vague! I wanna know all the juicy details. It’s rare for you to stay out so late. And to go to a party, of all things, in the city? Hello?! New Riddle, who’s this?”

“I was only meeting an old friend.”

“That’s what they all say.”

The technician asks her to pick a color. “This one,” she says, pointing. “The one named Sanguine Sunrise.”

“You’re totes keeping me in the dark!” Cater whines, dramatic. “At least give Cay-Cay some hints! Something! Anything! Spare change, please?”

Riddle smiles smugly. Pride drips from every syllable when she speaks next. “My friend will be spending this Valentine’s Day alone.”

“Bummer.”

“Not quite. She’ll have me and half-priced chocolates. A rather charming combination, no?”

Cater laughs. “GL. I’m rooting for you.”

You don’t need to, she thinks, tracing the love bite stamped into her skin, hidden under the soft fabric of her blouse. Because I’m already winning.

Her phone buzzes with a text: about last night… if i did anything weird, i’m so sorry. i was way too drunk.

Riddle turns it over, dips her feet in the heated water, and settles into the massage chair, pleased as a peach. “It was one bad decision. Four years of bad decisions, but it’s forgiven. We all make silly mistakes when we’re lovestruck. Hopefully her silly mistake disappears for good and we never have to speak of him again.”

“You’re so scary, Riddle. Remind me to never get on your bad side.”

Another message arrives: i think we might’ve kissed last night. i’m really super sorry.

There’s a brief delay.

ok this is gonna sound weird coming from me but maybe we can do it again??? floyd’s kisses are sorta… :/

Her phone vibrates for the final time that afternoon.

actually i’m just gonna stop talking omg i’m crazy. i have a bf and everything. sorry riddle please ignore all of this kk tysm ttyl <3

wait one more text before i forget,, if you wanna meet up for tea i wouldn’t mind. we should definitely catch up when i’m not hungover. kk bye fr this time <3

A start is a start. You can’t grow a rose tree without first planting a seed.

#yandere twst #yandere twst x reader #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere riddle rosehearts x reader #yandere riddle rosehearts #yandere riddle #yandere riddle x reader #n/sfw #tw: dubcon

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green-nerd-showdown · 5 months ago

Text

GREEN NERD SHOWDOWN ROUND 2 BATTLE 1

Riz Gugak (fantasy high) vs Jonathan Sims (the magnus archive)

PROPAGANDA

RIZ

Riz "The Ball" Gukgak, is green cuz he's a goblin, and a nerd. He starts out as a "Teen Detective" kid, investigating the disappearance of the missing girls in Elmville, cuz one of the missing girls is his old babysitter, aka his only friend before the show starts. He later graduates in the "James Bond Wannabe" Kid. He starts accessorizing and experimenting with his outfit, but because he's a nerd and self conscious he's constantly trying to justify it by making everything some kind of gadget and saying that it's all for the sake of utility in order to deflect any judgement. Also, before you think the nickname "The Ball" is cool, he got it because when he tried to join the sport team, the school jock said that the only position he could play was the ball, and proceeded to throw him like a ball. Dimension 20 is a D&D actual play show, Riz Gukgak is one of the player character, his player being Brian Murphy, who is a nerd himself. He's also the rogue, starting with the Inquisitive subclass, aka the nerd subclass, and later changes to the Arcane Trickster subclass, aka the slightly cooler nerd subclass. He's a nerd being played by a nerd as the nerd class with the nerd subclass, formerly the other nerd subclass, in the nerd game.

He's a green goblin who is obsessed with solving mysteries and making clue boards

Goblin (green). Middle school nickname was Briefcase Kid. Still carries that briefcase. Is a licensed PI. Definitely the (non-magic) brains of his adventuring party.

he made business cards to give to potential friends on his first day of school. he is a self proclaimed private investigator. he carries around a fucking briefcase to HIGH SCHOOL. what hasn’t this guy done. Sure he does a lot of cool stuff but this is what matters.

I love him, he is such a nerd, straight A student with an impeccable knowledge of the world he lives in, he is also literally a goblin, and thus the colour green. He’s also aro so green in the flag

Feral detective/angel spy

JONATHAN

He’s just a nerd generally. He also started off the series as really posh and “doesn’t believe in the supernatural” (it’s a coping mechanism). Then as the series goes on, becomes a know-it-all. Supernaturally. He gets the powers to know (almost) everything. He doesn’t really have a canon appearance, (podcast) but TMA as a whole is associated with green because of the pictures used for it.

The Magnus Archives cover is green, and per the unofficial rules of eye-themed podcasts, the fanart tends to lean towards a green color pallette. Jon Sims art frequently has him wearing green. And he's so nerdy. He researches and archives supernatural encounters. His preferred ice cream flavor is rum raisin. He went to Oxford and faked his accent. His social skills are abysmal. When someone asked if he'd seen a dog he responded with "…In general?"

Green eye powers plus he works at an archiving job not only that but the head archivist and has a degree in library science+not many friends and a loner

That man saw someone being kind to him and decided they were going to murder him

HE SEES ALL (also he needs a break. That man has so many scars and so much trauma get a that guy a fuckin nap and a raise)

#Riz Gukgak #Dimension 20 #Fantasy High #jon sims #jonathan sims #tma #the magnus archives #jon tma #polls #tournament poll #tournament #character tournament #round 2

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project-sekai-facts · 1 year ago

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do u know who each of the virtual singers r supposed to represent in each Sekai? I think some are more obvious than others (Saki and Ena for Rin), but I’m not sure about everyone

The general concept of the Leo/need Vsingers seems to be derived from Saki's idea of an "ideal high school experience", so there's a big focus on senpai-kohai dynamics.

Luka is pretty much entirely based on the ideal senpai that Saki wanted in high school. She's kind, responsible, mature. She's what you'd expect from a good senpai.

Miku takes some traits from Ichika. Both of them are somewhat insecure about their abilities, but nonetheless hardworking. Also both of them are easy to embarrass.

Rin is literally just Saki - she’s energetic, enthusiastic, and nicknames all her friends; they have similar interests, such as hairstyling, and Rin has even read some of Saki's manga collection.

KAITO seems to take traits from both Ichika and Shiho: he's shy and underconfident like Ichika, and introverted yet passionate about music like Shiho. However his introversion is dialed up from Ichika and Shiho’s, and he doesn’t think he would be able to handle the social life that the girls have.

MEIKO acts as a foil to Honami, being more confident and better at facing conflict, but she does have some similar traits to her as well, such as being the "team mom" figure.

Len is usually associated with Honami and is sometimes used to reflect her conflicts in stories. His personality doesn't seem to heavily influenced by anyone though.

MORE MORE JUMP!'s Virtual Singers seem largely inspired by Minori's idealistic view of the idol industry.

Specifically Miku seems to be based on the idea of a perfect idol, or, Minori's impression of Haruka before actually meeting her in-person. Also this Miku starts off as a pretty flat character and is gradually given more personality and character quirks, which might reflect Minori learning about the real Haruka.

Rin is based on Minori. They’re both amateur idols striving to be at the same level as their peers. They’re also both upbeat, optimistic and somewhat naive. Rin looks up a lot to her fellow idols, yet another trait shared with Minori. Huh.

Len is based on Haruka. He has her “princely idol aura” that is practically just his actual personality, as well as Haruka’s level-headedness and maturity.

Luka is based on Shizuku, she's the “perfect”, elegant idol who's actually more of an airhead than her image lets on. There's a reason she first appears in Color of Myself! and acts as Shizuku’s main confidant

MEIKO is more difficult to place, but I think she might be derived from Airi a bit - her speciality is interacting with the audience, something Airi is good at thanks to her TV work. Also both of them have a similar sort of peppiness.

KAITO is more of a composite character - he's a huge fan of idols, just like Minori and Airi, he has Haruka's workaholic tendencies, and Haruka and Airi's responsibility and organisation. There's probably something that links him to Shizuku that I'm forgetting.

next three are much longer because deeper lore and because i found a better writing flow, so they’re under the cut

Vivid BAD SQAUD's virtual singers are an odd case in which it's not extremely obvious which member they are derived from.

MEIKO is very clearly meant to be a Vsinger equivalent to Ken, instead of any of the members. She acts as a sort of guiding figure to them and has a sort of parental vibe similar to how Ken is with all the VBS kids. Neither of them are active as singers either. I also read an interesting theory that she's based on Kohane recently, which you can find here (near the bottom of the first section).

Miku has traits of everyone in VBS except Kohane: Akito's competitiveness and sore loser tendencies, Toya's more cool/calm demeanour, his love of coffee, and abysmal cooking skills, and An's passion for music (which all of them have but An’s is what unlocked the SEKAI). Someone also sent in an ask one time saying that she might be based on Nagi to some extent, which I think makes sense but is probably just coincidental since I think Nagi was added to the VBS story pretty late.

KAITO is derived from the BAD DOGS members, even if it isn't apparent at first because of how outwardly different he is. He's more of a foil to them, but has a lot of their personality traits. He has Akito's sweet tooth and tendency to be lazy about things that don't interest him, and Toya's air-headedness and strong skills in his field of interest.

Luka seems a lot like An, she's energetic and carefree, though I also believe that these could be taken from Nagi as well, since Luka was added after Nagi was first mentioned (but just before she first appeared) so they were probably written at the same time).

Len is a bit more obvious - he takes a lot of traits from Akito. Both of them want to be respected by the people around them, and hate it when people treat them as inferior. Akito has a lighthearted rivalry with An but has a lot of respect for Toya, while Len has both of these with his own partner, Rin.

Rin has traits from multiple characters like Miku does. She bickers with Len just like An and Akito do with each other, and she's the most affected by An's grief in Light Up the Fire. Both she and An are pretty energetic as well. On the other hand, she has Akito's stubborness and more tsundere-ish traits. As a third option, Akito and Rin's first kizuna title is "Speaking of pancakes" and their third kizuna title is "You remind me of...", suggesting that Akito might see Ena in her.

Also Rin and Len are usually used to reflect any conflicts that Vivids and BAD DOGS have, for example in the main story when Rin and Len split and then BAD DOGS did later in the story.

WonderlandsxShowtime's VSingers are fun for me to explain actually, because while it's explicitly stated that everything in the SEKAI reflects something from Tsukasa's psyche (#5 & 6 here), there's still the fact that fate might be real in the game.

Since everything in the SEKAI is a part of Tsukasa’s psyche, this has to extend to the Virtual Singers. They even have stars on their costumes just to make it clear. Think of it like in cartoons and comics when a character gets split into all their different personalities. Presumably: KAITO is his responsible older brother side, MEIKO is his creativity, Len is his curiosity and enthusiasm, and Rin is his more childish/playful side. The SEKAI is formed from things from his childhood (keep that in mind), which is probably why Miku acts like a kid (same applies to Rin. and Len. and a lot of things). Luka is from his desire to make people happy. Now in more detail:

KAITO is by far the most responsible and mature Vsinger in Wonderland SEKAI, and also happens to be their troupe leader. He's very caring in an older sibling-type way; Emu even calls him KAITO-nii-chan (big brother KAITO). That said, KAITO is sort of a foil to Tsukasa, being much more level-headed and humble than Tsukasa is. I think that may be to highlight the idea that he's created from specifically the reliable older brother part of Tsukasa' personality.

There's some older stuff on this blog where I wasn't sure exactly where Luka came from, but apparently it's explicitly stated in her debut card story that she comes from Tsukasa's desire to make people happy. My bad. She only sleeps when everyone is smiling, and will be wide awake when something is wrong. Makes sense, since she debuted in Tenma Household's Hinamatsuri, in which Saki and Tsukasa had a falling out, and Saki is the source of Tsukasa's drive to make people smile.

Now we get into weird fate shit and SEKAI physics. Miku is quite childish and is implied to be younger than the members of WxS, which makes sense when you consider that the Wonderland SEKAI draws from Tsukasa's childhood memories and the shows he put on for Saki. That said, she also heavily draws from Emu, with them both using the same type of speech, being very hyperactive, full of childlike wonder etc. Miku existed before Tsukasa knew who Emu was, so it could be that Miku is entirely based on Tsukasa's experience with childhood, but also Miku knows who Emu is when the SEKAI forms, so it could go either way. or both.

Len is very enthusiatic and loves learning new things. Out of everyone, Len is closest to Rui (while also being a foil to his personality, with Len being more energetic and open than Rui is). This makes sense actually, when you consider that although he acts annoyed at times, Tsukasa does gradually get more enthusiastic about Rui's stage directing and stunts. Another thing that occurred to me is that Len first spawns in not too long after the main story, and first meets WxS in Wonder Halloween, both of which involve Tsukasa and Rui getting into a fight followed by a look into Rui's past of being outcast by everyone for being "weird". So maybe Len was partially created because of Rui wanting people to not distance themselves from him and actually take an interest in his work. Maybe this is something Tsukasa picked up on as well, it is his SEKAI after all. I don't know whether this was intentional, but I think it could be. Most things in this game are lol.

Rin is very playful and childlike in a similar vein to Miku. She’s also closest to Nene out of all of WxS, and acts as a foil to her in the same way Len is one to Rui. Rin is extroverted and childish in comparision to Nene who’s shy and acts as the straight man within her group. Rin initially doesn’t understand Nene’s shyness, probably because of how different her own personality is. Considering that Rin first spawned in just after the main story, her relationship with Nene might reflect the differences between Tsukasa and Nene (and the fact that Nene’s social anxiety was something that Tsukasa snapped at her about in the main story). Also Rin and Len are considered as best friends in this SEKAI, which makes sense considering that they're foils to childhood best friends.

MEIKO is the most creative of the Vsingers and comes up with very imaginative and wacky ideas, much like Emu and Rui do. However her creativity probably stems from Tsukasa, who writes a lot of WxS’ plays, and then she gets the wild imagination on top of that from the other two. MEIKO is also known for her strength, which comes from Rui, and her good hearing (first shown in POP IN MY HEART!!), which comes from Emu.

And now you have to hear something similar with Mafuyu.

The 25-ji, Nightcord de. Virtual Singers are a bit more complicated than the WxS ones. While all of them draw from Mafuyu to some degree, some of them were created more by something that she needs than something that she is. There’s also far more obvious influences from the other N25 members.

Miku and KAITO are more obviously created by something Mafuyu needed, even though they both have traits of Mafuyu as well. Rin and MEIKO are more influenced by the other members, and Luka is a bit of both. Len is influenced by Mafuyu’s emotions alone. Now in more detail:

It’s very apparent that Miku exists to be a comforting figure to Mafuyu. The SEKAI manifested at a point when Mafuyu was extremely depressed and suicidal, and just needed someone to listen to her and understand. That said, Miku starts out quite similar to Mafuyu, rarely experiencing any strong emotion if any emotion at all. Both of them gradually start to feel more as the story goes on, and both are seen smiling more often than they used to nowadays.

Rin is very strongly influenced by Ena. She’s outwardly irritable and moody, but actually does care and enjoys the company of those around her, even if she doesn’t show it a lot. A tsundere, if you will. Despite her usual attitude, she does actually want to help the N25 girls, which she also shares with Ena. Rin’s connection to Mafuyu is less obvious, but I think it might be through her pretty blunt way of speaking and the fact she quite often just says whatever she thinks.

MEIKO is heavily influenced by Mizuki. She represents the distance that Mizuki puts between themself and the other N25 members, keeping herself away from the other Vsingers and from the N25 girls. She first appears in Secret Distance just to make it extra obvious. However I think she’s also influenced by Mafuyu’s very passive approach to her situation. MEIKO often just watches from a distance and sees how things go, which is close to what Mafuyu did at the time. Mafuyu doesn’t do a huge amount to help herself early on in the story, she does try to feel more, but relies a lot on Kanade. It isn’t until KAITO appears that she’s given more of a forceful push to actually face how things are, stop distancing herself from her problems, and take action.

Luka is derived from the people around Mafuyu who are trying to help her, particularly Kanade and Ena. In Luka's Doing Things My Own Way card story, Mafuyu says that Luka reminds her of Ena, specifically her perceptiveness and tendency to point out things about Mafuyu that she herself isn't aware of. She quickly takes this back though, and then says that Luka is more similar to Kanade because of her ability to understand what Mafuyu is feeling when Mafuyu isn't sure of it herself. In terms of personality, she is closest to Mizuki, being more on the playful and teasing side, mainly towards MEIKO. Luka is like a lighter version of what KAITO ended up being. She's not afraid to be honest and realistic, and is a bit firmer than the other vsingers are. She's not afraid to give them a push when she thinks they need it, as seen in her debut in Carnation Recollection.

Len spawns during Guiding a Lost Child to What Lies Beyond, where Mafuyu's mother starts to find out about Mafuyu doing music and taking action. He's sort of similar to the Wonderland SEKAI Virtual Singers, in the way he represents Mafuyu's emotions in a very childlike way. He's scared because Mafuyu is scared of her mother, he's sad because Mafuyu doesn't want music to be taken away from her, he feels lost and alone because Mafuyu feels that way too, he's close to Miku because Mafuyu is and needs her comfort. Some of this is stuff that Mafuyu doesn't even realise, which brings back the idea from Wonderland SEKAI that the SEKAI can create things on the basis of your subconscious.

KAITO definitely embodies that idea. He's Mafuyu's anger, yet she's never angry. He's from all her repressed anger. He appears when Mafuyu's mother makes her life well and truly miserable, attempting to cut her off from N25. Mafuyu hates this, but she doesn't want to admit that her mother is the problem, she doesn't realise just how angry it's making her, how angry her mother is making her. She's holding all of it back, but it manages to leak out in the form of KAITO. As soon as he arrives in the SEKAI, he wants to talk to Mafuyu, find out what's going on and what caused the Empty SEKAI to be, well, empty. As soon as he finds out this is Mrs Asahina's fault, he tells it to Mafuyu's face. Mafuyu was never going to accept it on her own, she needed a push, and a strong one. KAITO does what needs to be done, and he's similar to Luka in that way, he's just way more aggressive and unapologetic. He's almost... bitter, for lack of a better word. Like I said earlier, he's here to help Mafuyu, as well as represent her.

#this took so long to write i apologise for the wait #virtual singer #lore #theory #i guess #project sekai #asks #so many tags #also sorry that the ln and mmj sections are so poor compared to the rest. by the time i got to n25 i just wanted to get this done #and didn't go back to edit those parts beyong spag checks

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goodluckclove · 19 days ago

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clove my kind comrade. i have a very emotional writing advice question for you. this turned kinda long, i apologize

i've been working on college applications these last few months, with the majority of that time taking the form of essay writing. and in these months it has been discovered that, at least to my dad's standards, my normal nonfiction prose writing skills are absolutely abysmal. i would write a draft, think i had everything pretty much shiny and complete, only to have everything i had worked so hard to finish absolutely picked to shreds by my dad and told i needed to start over. and there's nuance to this; i do quite literally forget a lot of writing tips and processes that worked for me, and it took last week's adhd diagnosis 17 years too late for me to stop hating myself for not being able to write a 300 word essay in a week. but this has left deep scars on my psyche and sent me for the most intense mental heath loop ive had in years.

that all contributed to a very intense anxiety ive developed about writing. i'll open a wip (or hell start writing an ask) and i will feel such a sense of dread. it's like i'm reaching into an oven that i know i've burned myself on so many times before. i can barely write a sentence before i start overthinking things too much and give up. this is specifically talking about my own personal writing. five minutes ago i opened my most self-indulgent wip that only four people on earth would ever be allowed to see and felt such an overwhelming fear of "what if it's bad". "what if it doesn't read this way to people". i've never had that before. i write what i write, and it's generally pretty damn good. but the anxiety i have about these stupid college essays has bled into MY work, MY own fun projects.

essentially, what i'm asking you is if you can offer any advice of how to conquer this anxiety. i know that an essay and a gay little fanfiction are fundamentally different things that cannot be equated with each other, and i know that other people's opinion on what is ultimately a self indulgent project can be easily and happily disregarded. but i can't have a self indulgent project if i can't even bring myself to physically write it.

this turned into a vent lmao. i hope you and Wife and the cats are doing splendidly.

Hi Bas! This ask made me deeply angry when I read it last night! Shame from artists, especially young artists just starting out in life and in their craft, apparently provokes a pretty deep rage in my soul.

I'm fine now. I'm at a coffee shop. Thank you for a pretty vulnerable and heartfelt insight into your brain-space, and I'm going to give it a pretty long and ramble-y response because that's what it deserves - and honestly, you've known me for long enough that I'm sure you kind of assume this is what's coming. Before that, though, I get the sense you're pretty anxious and drained. In the name of meeting your sincerity I would like to offer a look at the drawing my surrogate child demanded I draw for them after they saw the terrible Sonic the Hedgehog I drew from memory last night. Their prompt was "T4T Sonic/Shadow"

What do you think? I gave Shadow a wallet chain. I've never drawn fan art before but I do think going forward I'm going to give most, if not every famous IP I draw a wallet chain. This made me grin a lot because it's so fucking weird. Also it's not canon. Canonically Shadow would not smoke a blunt. Canonically Shadow the Hedgehog vapes.

Okay I made myself properly silly time for business. Come follow me into a hypothetical situation so I can talk to you (and anyone in your position - which is a lot of people your age) more intimately.

Okay, so I'm at a new coffee shop. It's open concept, fairly minimal an industrial in decor. I'm in this seated nook in the back at a bench by a large round table. The lighting is soft. There's a lot of plants and the baristas are like kind of anti-social which usually means the coffee is going to be great or pretty bad. Luckily it's the former - I got this iced maple cardamom latte. They have other drinks too. Tea. Your usual coffee varieties. They have a rosemary syrup you can put in lattes that I might try if I feel like I want another coffee later. Take my card and order something. I'll wait here.

You're back? What'd you get?

Mm. Fuck. I should've gotten that too. Nevermind, it's fine. I'll probably come back here again.

Okay, so college essays. I'm going to go ahead and just open by saying that college essays are absolutely not the same as nonfiction prose. Flat out, end of sentence. They're aren't apples and oranges - it's like comparing an apple and a used 2007 Honda Accord.

Good nonfiction means different things to different people. I personally enjoy a bit of humor and love for a subject, even if it's mundane to most of society. My wife prefers a Wikipedia-level of dry Academia. Different strokes.

College admission essays, however, are not good. They're really not. From a vague amount of research it seems this has been an issue for decades now.

You can still write like a bad college essay, don't get me wrong. Something riddled with typos or dribbled out by a generative AI. But if you look a little bit at what the people who actually check applications are, it seems the spectrum isn't "bad to great" as much as it is "bad to fine". My own college essay was some bullshit about how I learned about myself and the world around me by going to the grocery store before school and buying a baguette to have for lunch. It was stupendously mediocre. I got into college.

There's a lot of reasons for this. It could be because the average 17-18 year old isn't given the tools or opportunity to write really solid nonfiction - probably because the society we live in doesn't expect them to have anything to contribute in that way, but that's beside the point. You're taught essays. Ways to format papers that, from what I gather, only really apply in academic settings. When I was in high school the average essay had pretty stark parameters students were expected to follow, and from what I've heard those parameters have only gotten more specific.

With all that in mind, I understand why you're freaked out. If you look up tips on solid college essays the advice is like just comically vague. Be authentic! Focus on deeper themes! Pose a philosophical question! That last one actually made me laugh out loud when I read it, because it's so insanely discordant compared to how I've seen people you're age be treated. To go straight from people assuming you need your hand held on nearly anything to having a person say "Hey solve nihilism in 450 words " is baffling.

There's real advice in this odd, clickbait-y quips. You shouldn't feel like you have to play a character or pretend to be something you don't want to do, because that comes across in the text pretty easily. You should consider exploring a topic, because it reveals more about you as a person and that's valuable to the application as a whole. You - I'm going to go out and say you don't need to pose any sort of philosophical quandary at all, actually. That's a pretty wild thing to ask a huge portion of New Adults to be able to do.

So this isn't nonfiction. This isn't a think piece or a memoir, even though people might compare it to both. This is closer to a cover letter. You should still try, but do so knowing this is separate from your skills as a writer. Once you do that, you'll hopefully be able to relax enough to actually let your character slip into the work. What you mainly want to do is express a sense of your voice and sort of imply an idea of the type of presence you would be as a student at your school of choice. That's the point of the application as a whole. It's not going to win a Pulitzer. It would be truly, very weird if an admissions essay won a Pulitzer.

The other thing that I think might be making you and people in your shoes feel crazy is that you're in the period of your life when a lot of adults around you are going to say just the wackest nonsense. Oh this application determines the rest of your life! The stakes have never been higher! This is your future! You're setting the entire course of the rest of your life right now, somehow!

That obviously is also not true. Next year will be a decade since I graduate high school, and I still actually have no idea why some people had that level of intensity. It strikes me as incredibly counter-productive. I explained this to my kid, and they were shocked when I told them how many paths there are to get a higher education. You can get your first few years at a community college and then go to a university. You can go to a polytech school (They make them for the arts too! my brother went to Cogswell and it was such a cool campus) and get straight into industry experience. You might get into a university and transfer to a different one because it has a better program or opportunity.

All of these are cool. Not going to college is also cool, although it comes with other pitfalls. You can also go to college later on down the line. If you haven't figured it out yet, existing in the world is actually really flexible and open in terms of life choices. A college application, essay included, is not likely to play a huge part in the grand scheme of your life. The results of this will give you a sort of better understanding of your options for a plan for the next - like - year, maybe? It won't even determine it. It's more of a cool, maybe or a cool, I guess not right now situation.

It's also way harder for most people to work with a smaller word count. Less words mean less margin for error. That's stressful. You aren't a failure for struggling to write 300 words in a week when you can't choose the parameters of the writing, can't change the deadline, and probably have a bunch of people saying how crazy important all this is. Those are batshit work conditions for someone who doesn't have ADHD.

For someone who does, I can see how easily this would warp the perspective you have on everything else you do. Being picked apart by someone who hasn't been where you are in like 20+ years but still expects you to take their words as gospel? Confusing! Maybe feeling the inexplicable need to compare yourself to any published nonfiction you've read and loved, even though this isn't even nonfiction - and if it was, those writers have definitely been working in the genre longer than just goddamned now.

I think I've told a few people your age that this is the point where you kind of have to pick and choose how often you listen to the adults in your life. That feels irresponsible for me to say, but I do stand by it. When it comes to the transition between high school and college, most established adults are just crazy biased. Maybe because they raised you. Maybe because they're blinded by nostalgia and think that high school was the best part of their lives. Maybe they aren't familiar with the work you want to go into and what's needed to get a start in it. Or they could just straight up not understand how the college system works now.

It is such bullshit that you eventually have to craft a sense of internal intuition out of essentially nothing but it is a thing. It takes time, though. I won't pretend like you can make it happen immediately right now.

What matters is that you're okay. I promise you that - you're okay. Looking you straight in the eye, Bas, you're a good writer. Not "good for your age", I have read enough of your actual writing to know that you're pretty solid already. I've also read enough of your posts and had conversations with you to know for certain that if you wanted to pursue nonfiction you'd be pretty good at it right off the bat. This would be under the usual standards of a nonfiction writer, of course - meaning you get to pick the length, subject, and when you finish it.

You are in the unfortunate period of going through multiple transitions at once. It's hard enough to navigate the way relationships change when people decide (or struggle to process) how you're an "adult" now (also not really true in a lot of ways, but that's another ramble). But going so long under the assumption of having a Default Brain Experience and then realizing that all of the struggles you assumed were normal are actually an imbalance of chemicals is jarring.

It's treatable, yes. Once you get on a medication that helps with the dopamine everything is immeasurably easier, holy shit. But even then it's still painful at times because the difference is so palpable you sometimes stop and think why did it take so long for me to be able to have this? Why did no one see I was struggling? That was my experience, at least.

This is a crucial point in life where you have to be extra kind to yourself however you can. Once you get on stimulants, if you go that way, drink a lot of water and remember to eat (Some of them can make appetite wonky and I think they all dehydrate you). Be careful with caffeine because they do make you more sensitive to that. Maybe like just stop thinking about whether or not your writing is bad or doesn't work in certain ways because I am a Professional Writer and those kinds of thoughts have literally never been helpful to me. When they pop up in my brain I literally say "no" and force myself to think about something else.

Whether your writing is "good" is not an actual question. Is it coherent and does it contain a noticeable and unique voice? Yes. Is it what you want? I can't answer that, but if you say no the way to fix that is usually read more/write more/think more/share with other more.

Also does it read the way it should to other people? Stop it. Don't worry about that yet. You have to finish the damn thing or else it won't read any way to anyone. So much of writing is Second Draft You's problem.

Anyways that's all I have to say. My heart goes out to you for being pulled in so many directions. From my own experience it gets slightly easier once you submit the apps, but people do continue saying dumb nonsense until like midway into your first year in college. And if you end up leaving college for some reason or another people will keep occasionally saying dumb nonsense. But usually by then you're more equipped to ignore them.

You're going to be okay. You are an intelligent, insightful, artistically capable and deeply kind individual. Whether you share your thoughts and make your stories, true or not, through text or art or a mix of both, you have so much to offer. Just remember that.

Also I'm hungry. I've been writing this for a while and I didn't get any work done on the painting for my wife, but it's almost noon and I didn't have breakfast. There's an American Chinese place near here and they have pretty cheap lunch specials. Come on, get your stuff and let's take a break.

Mongolian beef yum yum.

#writeblr #aspiring writers #writing advice #this is a big one #i've been wanting to say it for a while

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prettyboykatsuki · 6 months ago

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pls read me for filth bestie: intj eldest daughter 🤓

ahhh. fellow intj. this one might be mean sorry. once again i am working on assumptions so disclaimer yadda yadda

intjs are usually known for being cold, calculated and intelligent as a result of introverted intution which is shared with your fellow NJ pairs and for the most part this stereotype is true. most intjs are gifted in early childhood and do well academically with good insight for pattern recognition. youve probably one point felt yourself to be better than your peers

the two way consequence of this being true is that you definitely have semi abysmal social skills. intj women(or just generally speaking fem presenting intjs) tend to make-up for this by capitalizing on their physical appearance in their later years if possible. intj men tend to be mildly insufferable because behaving that way is accepted as masculine and tolerable. this lack of understanding in relation to socialization comes two fold from your last function being extroverted sensing and your third function being introverted feeling.

like most introverted feelers you take things incredibly personal which wreaks havoc in your relationships. as you grow older and experience more things (and more trauma) your sense of basic sympathy allows you to overlook the things that you used to bother you day-to-day but you do have to actively realize that not everything that happens to you is a personal matter. in fact most things are not and your paranoia that they are worsens greatly under stress. a lot of shit has genuinely nothing to do with you

intjs are interesting in that they do actually get along with several types of people and tend to fall in the camp of open minded. you have a tendency to make quick judgements about people and you're rarely wrong on your first impressions but you sometimes allow them to cloud your judgement. you don't prefer leadership roles but you will handle them well when they are forced upon you which they often are as a result of you being technically competent and talented at compartmentalizing. how are u dealing with that one haunting impulsive decision you made btw

most often intjs get in relationships they can hide behind in some way. extroverts are ideal for this but it's mostly anyone who can comfortably shield them away from public scrutiny as they pressure of being around others is rather annoying to you though im sure you do fine. you've developed some specific culturally relevant social skills to keep you afloat but you need to recuperate more oftne than you care to admit.

you probably similarly had a phase of total hedonism in your late teens and young adulthood in a way that wasn't obvious to everyone else as you discovered your extroverted sensing and the concept of sensuality.

you have inadvertently developed a desire for validation of something you can't actually recognize. intjs are typically well accomplished in some aspect, but the validation you're seeking is actually entirely emotional and you will benefit a lot from realizing this. your ideal relationship is not someone who will simply shield you, but will allow you to be yourself and push you in areas you need pushing while fully understanding who you are and not who you are very good at pretending to be.

its fine to admit some parts of you are sloppy, irritable and irrational. the extremity you treat his part of yourself with is overblown in the first place and being around emotionally in tune people makes you self aware of this.

you date people you assume you'll have emotional control over and years later understand doing that is also exhausting you. the cycle will repeat until you can find someone who can view you with sincerity and all your flaws and acknowledge them without stepping on your toes about them all the type.

you can pretend that happy-go-lucky people exhaust you all you want but having at least SOME to balance you out is literally important to your nervous system. if dating a dumb himbo and the false sense of emotional security he gives you is what fixes you let it happen its fine no one else will be able to tell but them.

despite all of this, ultimately no one is harder on you than yourself which is why many people in your life forgive you for things most others would not. your expectations for your accomplishments as a result of your talents and somewhat your ambition suffocate you but your health is more important and it's fine to put those thoughts to rest eventually. not everything needs to happen at once for you

try not to let your perfectionism completely disconnect you from the one artistic hobby you have and work hard at that - it contributes more to your sanity than u will ever give it credit for and it is that deep. u can't pretend its not lol

it will be fine btw

#return to sender

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virtuouswhitehatorganization · 5 months ago

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Miss Heed And Dark Phantom Are More Similar Than I Think

On the surface, it would be crazy to think they would have anything in common until you examine them up close.

For one thing they both come from wealth and have nepo baby written all over them, which influences how they are as people. Due to their backgrounds they tend to be very spoiled and immature for their age. It's evident their privileged lifestyles has coddled them from real hardship. However, I do think one major difference is that Miss Heed is a case of spoiled brat who pretends to be nice while Dark Phantom is a case of spoiled sweet despite being a villain.

Despite in the present being a popular heroine under scrutiny, she like Dark Phantom was disdained among her peers. For Dark Phantom, it's usually due to him screwing things up and her it was because she was really obnoxious. As a result, both of them were/are considered outcasts among villains. This outcast status caused her to decide to switch sides to become more popular and get the attention she craved while Dark Phantom sticks to the villain side due to legacy and probably the thought never crossed his mind.

Also another thing I noticed between the two is the fact that both are very reliant on others to fight their own battles and barely have any fighting skills. This is especially true for Miss Heed who often tries to pretend on social media she is a physical fighter but in reality she uses her cronies to do the heavy lifting for her.

Dark Phantom and her also seems to overcompensate for their lack of natural talent like with Dark Phantom bragging about his legacy despite being an abysmal villain on his own while she outright lies and steals credit from others while passing it off as her work. Unlike Dark Phantom who doesn't hide his incompetence, she does everything she can to make her appear to be this mary sue type of villain who can win any battle and villain hearts while also being a beloved person part of the hero community.

What makes them differ is again how well they also treat their close friends. Despite being a proclaimed heroine, she in the past stole from her supposed friend Flug to become help her as a heroine. This is in contrast with Dark Phantom who didn't think much helping a friend out when she was a fugitive and on the run from that aforementioned Heed. Because as much as a villain he tries to live up to, he does have more moral traits than Heed does who uses the cover of a heroine to act shitty and have her actions be misconstrued as noble.

Ultimately I think both Dark Phantom and Miss Heed are kind of sort of two sides of the same coin. Dark Phantom is what would happen if that nepo baby still tried the villain path despite his lack of talent while Miss Heed is an example of forgoing the path to become a fake heroine while still having villainous traits. It does make them unintentional foils for each other and how in an AU both could have switched roles.

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goldensunset · 10 months ago

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Re: Volo with social media

You are SO right he would make a Reddit account and use it to do research and post insane things

volo’s main account: ginkgoguildofficial (most active moderator despite being the worst at running the page)

volo’s private account: cute togepi pictures and videos (his camera skills are abysmal but who cares)

volo’s top secret dark web account: life really hits you hard once you hit your 130s. hey has anyone seen any colorful plates lately? need to overthrow a god or two. asking for a friend. aita for trying to rob and/or murder a teenager (title sounds bad but hear me out)

#asks #vivi-mire #he’s technologically illiterate for a good several months but once he picks it up. once he does…#pokémon #legends arceus #volo

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bestworstcase · 6 months ago

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I'm curious to know how would you fix/rewrite Eugene and Cassandra's relationship dynamic in TTS, y'know give it some more dept.

…well

the less facetious answer is: like in canon except we don’t pretend that eugene isn’t kind of an asshole, and i have actual narrative plans for him that are not just “he’s…there” bfhrgjfjk

the dynamic they have with each other in canon is actually really interesting to me, because i think eugene truly does, by the end of s1, feel as if they’ve become close buddies in a she’s-like-a-sister-to-me way—whereas cassandra is at “well his asshole behavior has decreased very slightly and he’s the princess’s boyfriend so. i guess. i can tolerate him.”—and this disconnect exists because eugene really does not know how to interact with people in a way that is not 1. imitating the superficial charm and devil may care attitude of the fictional dashing rogue he based his entire personality on, 2. worshipping the ground rapunzel walks on, or 3. picking on anyone who isn’t impressed by the first option.

and then you have rapunzel and the abysmal burning dumpster fire that is “i learned all of my social skills from mother gothel and a chameleon and am now the second most powerful person in an absolute monarchy” trying to… mediate between her boyfriend (who is an asshole to everyone except her, and firmly believes that she can do no wrong) and her lady-in-waiting (who is not of noble birth and lives in constant fear of being sent to a convent should upset the king or her father, and whom the boyfriend constantly antagonizes) by going “but why can’t they be friends 🥺” because she literally, due to the circumstances of her upbringing and her power over cassandra, cannot see the problem that has everybody else in the vicinity going “dude 😬” at eugene.

like thats awesome. oh my god. it’s such a disaster! the narrative of tts is always sitting firmly in rapunzel’s point of view because: disney princess cartoon, so the train wreck of it all gets obfuscated and cass is at every turn framed as the unreasonable one, but if you’re willing to step away from that filter and just look at what eugene says and does and what cassandra says and does, there’s honestly a lot of meat on the bones as it is. and then the bitter snow approach is to just present that through a variety of POVs specifically to play with the contrast between what rapunzel sees vs what cassandra experiences.

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ff7-has-taken-me-over · 8 months ago

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“Cloud are you alright?”

The blond squeezed his eyes shut, biting back the whine building in his throat before grunting quietly. It took another second but the static faded, allowing him to see the faces of Tifa and Zack, both of them looking worried as they stared him down.

“‘M fine. Don’t worry about it.”

Tifa hesitated for a moment before shrugging, nodding once before turning on her heel to keep going. Zack, unfortunately, did not do the same. Looking at Tifa in disbelief before turning to Cloud, a hint of anger in his features as he spoke.

“What the fuck? You are obviously not ‘fine’ Cloud. What the hell was that about?”

Tifa spun on her heel, looking wide eyed at the black haired merc as he continued to stare down their blond friend. She went to intervene, tell him to leave Cloud alone but the blond pulled her up short. He looked to the side, borderline pout in his features as he crossed his arms.

“It’s nothing. Just a… thing, that happens sometimes. It’s fine Zack.”

Zack softened significantly at the sight of Cloud while Tifa was stuck standing awe struck. He’d never acted like this before. Always so ready to brush everyone off and push people out. It was why he didn’t have friends in Nibelheim, always pushing the other kids away and doing his own thing.

“Hey, it’s ok if you’re not fine. You don’t have to do this alone now. I’m here for you.”

Cloud leant into the hands that came up to cup his face, sighing softly as his eyes fluttered closed and Zack rested their foreheads together.

“I’m sorry… I don’t know what it is. Just happens sometimes when memories start coming back. Hurts like a bitch.”

The taller man chuckled softly, leaning away to kiss Cloud’s forehead softly. Tifa had to avert her eyes at the action, feeling like an intruder at the sight of this new side of Cloud.

“Don’t worry about it. Just let me know if you need a break or something yeah? I’ve got your back.”

Cloud gave him a small smile, light pink tinging his cheeks as he nodded. They pulled away from one another after a moment, the blond quickly adopting his stoic look before making his way past a still stunned Tifa. He only offered her a brief nod, either too embarrassed to look at her long or not really wanting to. It didn’t matter though cause she wanted to talk to Zack anyway.

The older man was staring after their blond though, affection and exasperation shining bright in his eyes as he smiled, “Where did he get that attitude from. I swear…”

Tifa frowned at that, raising a brow as she spoke, “Clouds always been like that.”

It was Zack’s turn to frown this time, looking at her in confusion as he shook his head, “No he hasn’t. Cloud was always happy back at Shinra. Yeah his social skills were abysmal and he flustered as easily as he does now. But he wasn’t that… aloof and cold before. Especially not around us.”

Tifa didn’t know who us was referring to but she couldn’t help but feel more confused. Cloud never smiled in Nibelheim. Not unless he was with his mum and even then, he’d usually steer them both clear of Tifa and the other kids.

“Tifa… Maybe you should talk to Cloud about this. I’m not sure he’d be alright with me being the one to talk to you.”

Said woman frowned all the more with those words, wondering what they meant. What did Zack know that would apparently be bad for him to share? Yeah Cloud had secrets but they were mostly about his days at Shinra. Nothing from their childhood…

#fic prompt #prompt #fic #final fantasy vii rebirth #final fantasy vii remake #final fantasy vii #zack fair #cloud strife #zakkura #clack #zack fair x cloud strife #tifa Lockhart #tifa and Cloud and their nebulous childhood memories #self indulgent #comfort for Cloud!!!#and Zack’s gonna do it!!!

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vaguely-concerned · 2 months ago

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so sad that we didn't get a follow up game for andromeda if for no other reason then because I never got to play out the full arc of my ryder looking hauntedly at himself in the mirror realizing he very much is his father's son in more ways than he's strictly comfortable with

(by default sara always seems to me to be the twin who's the most obviously like alec -- with small variances based on how you play her if she's the PC twin, she's always presented as more driven, competetive and academically minded than scott, who's framed in the family dynamic more as the underachiever/slacker fuckup twin. as an example, see: the conversation you have with alec about the sibling who's in coma at the beginning of the game. when you're scott they bond over joking that sara would be so pissed to be out of commission because she's been planning to be the first to scale every mountain, and when you're sara it's that scott never liked to get up in the morning anyway, how typical of him. (even in jest I feel like this indicates a slightly unpleasant dynamic where one of the few reliable tactics that work for sara to get connection with her dad is for both of them to turn on scott to mock him. which like. very real type of interpersonal dynamic that exists, and one of the character aspects I like the most in andromeda for all that it's uncomfortable, it feels quite subtle and well observed.) you can make sara a bit more neurotic/nervous and awkward and/or charmingly dorky when playing as her and you can make scott a bit more serious, but these aspects of the characters hold true no matter what. which for the record I absolutely love! it's the thing the hawke family also provides in da2, being able to see the dynamics that lead to your character being the way they are alllll the way back and building on it.

hOWEVER with my scott. this apparent disconnect between himself and his dad in terms of character traits (and the lack of communication in that relationship that stood in the way of letting him see that his father was a lot of other things behind the fragile hard outer shell of him than he wanted to show) means that as time goes on scott is fucking blindsided by all the common traits that start popping up under pressure. which you can actually start to introduce in the game itself, too -- if you choose mostly the logical and casual options, it's almost freaky how much ryder starts to sound like a younger and more irreverent version of their dad. (the most interesting version of liam's loyalty quest for me is actually the one where you go full professional and chew him out afterwards, and as liam storms off you can practically SEE ryder arrive at the thought 'oh my god I have become my father' in real time fhdsakj. in general some of the most interesting moments in me:a to me happen when you manage to break away from video game people pleaser mode.)

especially the things alec was willing to do to not lose his wife, to not be alone, he'd rather she be alive and pissed with him than gone forever because that's how desperately he needed her to exist... I think one day scott will look up and go '...oh fuck' at realizing the lengths he would go for someone he loves, and that he has the means to do it too and would make his father's (very bad to be clear) choice all over again if push came to shove. keeping horrible secrets is just the family tradition what does it matter if the weight of them grows heavier and heavier to bear over the years these are family heirlooms you know. I mean, my guy romanced reyes, so you already know he's got something deeply deeply wrong with him lol but this horrors of love side of him only adds to it. scott ryder got his fundamental lack of inner peace from his father and his social skills and abysmal taste in men from his mother

#mass effect #mass effect andromeda #scott ryder #ryder twins #with a new game on the horizon it's wall to wall andromeda slander yet again and like. sunglasses on. i do not see it.#I cannot read all of a sudden. leave me alone your opinion is irrelevant to me at this juncture #holding the nuanced opinion that a game wasn't all that it could have been and that there still was a lot more to value in it #than people give it credit for is always a doomed hill to die on but you know me. life long da2 defender&lover. I love a hill #love to die on my hill with honour and integrity rather than be mindlessly reactive in some of the most tedious ways I've ever seen #andromeda is literally fine with great combat that is hardly ever recognized and glimmers of brilliance here and there #(the sheer feeling of scale of the final vault never gets its due and it sucks because it's genuinely so impressive)#and people talk about it with almost religious levels of horror and disgust like it's the gaming antichrist. grow the fuck up or get out #anyway. I still think about her and fondly (mass effect andromeda). I should call her

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goldenhallas · 7 months ago

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~ Meet my Tav ~

Name: Senna Dekarios (née Thorne) Nicknames: Sen, Cub, Wolfheart Age: 30 Gender: Female (She/Her) Height: 5'7 Race: Wood Elf Class: Druid Background: Outlander Birthplace: Unknown Grew up: Cottage in the High Forest Occupation: Druid of Tall Trees Alignment: Chaotic Good Song: Raised by Wolves by The Interrupters

Just some girl from the woods with leaves in her hair and dirt on her clothes. Like the wolves she was raised with, Senna is swift, agile, a keen strategist and hunter, playful, loyal, and fiercely protective of her pack and the forests she calls home; she is also extremely wary of people she doesn’t know, prone to snarling and snapping when scared, and has abysmal table manners.

Backstory

Senna Thorne (aka Sen) was abandoned in the woods as a babe, and found by a reclusive High Forest Scout, a human man named Rowan Thorne. Rowan took Senna in and raised her among his wolf pack, teaching her archery, hunting, foraging, herbalism, healing and nature magic, as well as instilling in her a reverence for the land and the goddess Mielikki.

After the death of her father when she was 16, Senna couldn't stand to stay in the cottage where she'd grown up any longer. She packed her bag and set out into the woods with her father's last remaining wolf companion, Taran, by her side. She eventually found herself in a place called Tall Trees, a Druid's Grove dedicated to Mielikki. She spent many years here learning druidcraft (including how to wildshape into a wolf), helping guard the Grove and teaching children archery. It’s also where she met her first love, Cariad Holimion; a soft spoken wood elf druid with the wildshape of a stag.

Four years prior to being abducted by mindflayers, Cariad and Senna had a rare break from their duties and snuck away to have a date in the woods when they were set upon by yuan-ti. They fought as hard as they could to protect each other, but Cariad was killed in the fray, while Senna narrowly managed to survive. Wracked with survivor’s guilt and despair at the loss of her beloved, Senna left the High Forest for the first time in her life. She wandered aimlessly for a while, ending up on the Sword Coast, lost, alone and unsure what to do next. That was when she was kidnapped by mindflayers and had one of their tadpoles inserted into her brain.

Senna is great with animals, nature and magic, but not so much with people, which was never really a problem before now. Faced with the prospect of travelling with six other survivors of the nautiloid crash, all of whom need the parasites in their heads removed just as she does, Senna feels like a fish out of water - or, more aptly, a wolf out of the forest. Wary of strangers but also naturally inclined toward forming a pack and helping people, Senna hesitantly agrees to travel with them, but has absolutely no idea how she of all people ends up being appointed leader of the ragtag bunch of misfits (Mielikki preserve them all). She doesn't expect to survive for very long with a mindflayer tadpole stuck in her head, let alone that she'll find lifelong friends among her tadpoled companions, or that when she pulled a certain wizard from a malfunctioning magical rune, she would feel an irresistible pull to him that would change both their lives forever…

her pinterest

Notes / more info (adding to this as i go!)

Senna was kidnapped at the same time Gale was, they were unwittingly heading right towards each other and would have crossed paths had the mindflayers not intervened

Sennas are yellow flowers, and the name also means “brightness”

Has the social skills of a potato (no rizz but Gale is captivated by her musk & ferocity)

Don't let her grumpy wolf snarl fool you; she has big wet puppy eyes and a heart of gold

Would do anything for a wedge of Waterdhavian cheese

Loves to play the flute by the campfire

The rose tattoo on her neck represents her last name as well as the cottage where she grew up (her father grew climbing roses)

Refuses to use the tadpole. She doesn't like not being in control of her own mind and doesn't trust it for a second.

Senna has always been entirely herself, comfortable in her own skin, and isn't one to doubt herself or feel insecure - except when it comes to Gale's relationship with Mystra. For a while she's like, how can I compete with a literal goddess!? But these fears are put to rest when she realises how much Gale adores her, and how much more meaningful their relationship is due to them being on equal footing and truly wanting what's best for each other

She's sentimental and keeps everything people give her, every letter and every gift; her favourite letter is the one she got from Mirkon after saving him from the harpies

She collects pretty things on her travels like feathers, gems, shells etc and adds them to her hair and clothes / keeps them in her camp chest / gifts them to her companions

Her dad, Rowan, was gruff and reserved but also a gentle sweetheart, and adored his daughter more than anything

Senna always knew that she would long outlive her father, considering she is an elf and he a human, but to lose him when she was still so young was utterly devastating. She thought they would have many years left together, listening to his stories, picking berries in the sunshine, running with the wolves, and then suddenly, he was weak and withered, then just…gone

Senna wakes up before the sun every morning with boundless energy, whistling and humming to herself while she gets ready for the day

She makes all her own clothes

She writes and draws pictures of all the flora and fauna she sees on her travels (that's why she carries a notebook everywhere)

Gale x Senna (weavewolf)

Their favourite date is a picnic in the woods with stargazing; feeding each other cheese and fruit, drinking wine, kissing the taste of strawberry wine out of each other’s mouths, staring up at the sky together, pointing out constellations, and making love bathed in moonlight

Gale felt, as always, that he had to go above and beyond to prove himself worthy to Senna, that he always had to do some huge, grand gesture or woo her with grand feats of magic, but the better he got to know her, the more those insecurities melted away; he could just be himself with her. He didn't have to be perfect. He didn't have to be anything except himself with her. He could just be Gale, nothing more and nothing less. He was all she wanted.

Senna keeps all the poetry Gale writes for her tucked in her various journals

Gale keeps all the drawings Senna does for him in his bag of holding

They love cooking and baking and they collect recipes to make together

Post Game Weavewolf

Their song is Our House by Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young

Senna takes Gale to her old home in the High Forest; the cottage is overgrown with brambles but still intact, so they clear it out together and make it their holiday home, which they come to whenever Senna wants a break from the hustle and bustle of Waterdeep

Gale and Senna split their time between adventuring, living in Gale’s tower in Waterdeep, and living in Senna’s old cottage in the High Forest

Sen takes Gale to the Tall Trees Grove and introduces him to all her old friends; they are all dazzled and charmed by him

They see their tadfriends whenever they can – Astarion comes to stay with them sometimes, they visit Shadowheart on her little farm (Senna loves petting all the animals), they make trips to see Karlach and Wyll in the House of Hope (it’s not hard to get into Hell for an archwizard). Lae’zel pops in by astral projection now and again and very occasionally stops by in person with her son Xan

Gale and Senna don’t have a traditional wedding (they don’t have a traditional relationship) as neither wants a huge fanfare on their special day, they just want to spend it together and with those they love most. They get married a week after Gale asks Sen to marry him, in a small ceremony in the woods with only Tara, Morena, Shadowheart and Astarion in attendance (Wyll and Karlach are busy in hell, Lae’zel is busy with Xan plus leading the rebellion against Vlaakith). I’m sure Elminster visits to congratulate them and share some wine and cheese at some point, too.

Senna naturally wasn’t very comfortable with the idea of living in the city at first, until Gale changed his house for her, magically changing it into an indoor woodland wonderland reminiscent of the High Forest, to make her feel at home. “It's your house too, my love. I want you to feel at home here,” he says to her; then she pounces on him in gratitude and they have hot, passionate sex on a bed of the softest moss, surrounded by butterflies and wild roses.

Over time, Senna warms up to the city, mostly because Gale ensures she doesn’t have to deal with the stresses of city life; everything is at her fingertips when she wants it, but if she doesn’t want to deal with the hustle and bustle, she doesn’t have to; she can just stay in the tower, or she can take one of the portals Gale set up for her directly to High Forest or Ardeep Forest.

Senna and Gale love to take strolls around the city together, once Senna warms up to it; visiting their favourite sweet roll vendor, buying vintage cheeses or various trinkets for their house from local artisans.

They also love attending Waterdeep festivals together, drinking, dancing, playing games and occasionally even chatting to other people (lol). At first the festivals were quite overwhelming for Senna, but she learns to love the joy and community spirit of it all.

Senna adores, and is adored by, Mrs Dekarios; the two frequently have coffee and gossip together

Senna finally won over Tara after growing her some quality catnip

Gale teaches at Blackstaff Academy during the school year and goes on adventures with Senna during the holidays

Gale has fucked Senna over his desk at Blackstaff multiple times

Senna gets into debates with Elminster over the best cheeses when he comes to visit

#i....am so obsessed with her oh my god #you have no idea how happy i am. i havent felt this inspired by an oc in a long time :')#druid tav #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #tav #bg3 tav #my tav #oc: senna #weavewolf #bg3 oc #my oc #shar.txt #meet my tav #edited 5/7/24. added pics with her updated look <3 #also changed her backstory a little

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