#fullanalysis

Send me “#” for cell phone headcanons about your muse Currently: Accepting

Name: RisechiRingtone: Luv Letter - DJ Okawari

Popping the earbud in he listens for a moment, his foot casually tapping along to the beat. It’d be hard for him to say that it wasn’t good. In fact it was quite the opposite and it was quite easy to tell why she was so popular. Especially now that Rise had stepped down from the spotlight. 

Yet...

♒ = lying to them .  

He was hardly one for compliance, but he knew the painful truth. He knew that resistance is futile, even when he would love to keep trying and trying. Silence enveloped him as he refused to speak further, leaning against Rise’s chest in defeat despite the painful expression etched upon his countenance. His attention span and his inhibitions faltering, or maybe that was his head trying to assimilate the fact that he’s in a horrible predicament. He should say something  but he had to remain mute because he couldn’t bear with the reality, hurt too much. He’d remain mute in regards to, even if he shouldn’t. 

At least, her warmth was comforting, he felt calm even if he was in such state. He didn’t care about his bruises, his wounds or the blood that was all around the place. Even if he felt like a wildfire had scorched and charred his own body, the closeness made him breathe life for a little bit more, leaving aside turmoil within his mind. The silence spilled from this was not normal, and he could listen to her weeping from between his hard exhalations. He would love to make her stop crying, as it only hastened his dread – and his now fragile sanity, but even in such state, he remained composed and graceful, like always. 

She begged for words coming from his mouth, even if she knew he was still alive at the moment. He didn’t speak; and for a brief moment he dared to not even think, he was strong thanks to her, thanks to them… but he was not a super man to survive such damage.

He felt how her tears fell upon his cheek, made his starless gape focus now on her face. It was the time to speak, anything to made her feel better.

“Rise…” 

He trailed off, every letter pronounced hurt, but he tried his best to overcome it. After a break, he continued his sentence with the same slowness as before. 

“Everything has been dealt with…” 

That was the reason for his wounds, he cared more for them. They could had got hurt, and he didn’t want that. He could not forgive himself ever if something like would have happened. 

So. 

“Don’t worry… I’ll be fine, just stay here for a little longer… In no time I’ll recover.” 

It was a selfish request, he knew. It was bad to lie, he knew. But… this was necessary, for himself… and for her.

-]– ;; Points given for a successful fright! You’d think he would feel free from the natural clench that ‘spoopy’ holiday introduced, yet there was still jitters to tend too. Despair riddled at his wasted drink, a frantic stare snapped towards the idol’s direction post haste. How does someone even look so luminescence filled after scaring the pants off of someone? He refused to let her bask in that afterglow!

“SAY HI TO MY DRINK YOU JUST ENDED!” Deep breath. Deeeeep breath. “Che. ...” He couldn’t help the oncoming pout that threatened to reveal itself.

{ rip comments…….. (ˊ̥̥̥̥̥ ³ ˋ̥̥̥̥̥) }

✠ ᴏ ʙ s ᴇ ʀ ᴠ ᴇ ʀ ·ᴏ ғ — ✠

❝You think so?❞ Her voice emerged carefully from within, soft-spoken and gentle. Surprise mingled on her features, hand swiping stray locks of hair quickly behind her ear.

It was odd for usually sheepish girl to speak with strangers, but circumstances had drawn in favor of conversation. After a particularly strenuous ordeal with the bus timetables, the two were now seated at the foot of an impressive fountain, water cascading and dropping heavily back into the pool. The dark haired boy seemed particularly nonchalant, his body language open and friendly. On the other hand the middle schooler was tucked into herself, shoulders foreword and eyes down-cast. Seemingly complete opposites.

❝I guess I thought they were joking— at first, I mean.❞ She said, lacing her fingers. ❝I thought, me? An idol? There’s no way that could ever happen.❞

She turned her entwined fingers over, examining the bellies of her palms. A small smile was forming on her face, eyes softening in a reminiscent fashion. Every one had dreams of being famous, even idle fancies; but facing it in reality was terrifying. His words warmed her, the way he looked at her sincerely and honestly. She felt no malice or ill will, it was almost perfectly portrayed.

❝They want to give me a new name, to help me become this new person. Soon I’ll be introducing myself as someone else.❞ She looked into his eyes for the first time, the older boy who’s name she didn’t even know, and let her true feelings shine through.

❝’Risechī.’ Does it suit me?❞

✠ ᴍ ᴜ ɴ ᴅ ᴀ ɴ ᴇ ·ᴠ ᴏ ɪ ᴄ ᴇ s ✠

She seemed so impossibly withdrawn, it made paying attention to her counter-intuitive. But he does so sincerely because she's young and betraying signs of that delicate phase of her life, much of which Naoya himself hadn’t experienced. The eyewitness accounts of his female friends’ struggles to come to terms with themselves at that age were, however, more than education. Although it didn’t - still doesn’t - feel as though there is much he can do to improve their dilemma, the least he supposes he can do besides listening is understanding.

Having her own place beneath the spotlight already set her apart from the competition, putting in her a better position than she makes herself out to be. Considering the pressure Uesugi, the ambitious class clown of their day, receives for maintaining TV ratings as a personality -- well, her doubts seem reasonable on that particular front.·

She isn’t vomiting from stress like Uesugi had before his first televised appearance, at least, and he even has reason to believe she has it harder, being a girl in her salad days. Not that he would really bring himself to voice those thoughts. It probably isn’t his place to meddle more than he should, anyhow.

Hands remaining stationary in his pockets, he shifts his footing and adjusts his place on the fountain rim, letting the perpetually-cycling pool stifle his chuckle.·

“Sure,” he answers simply, because it’s the truth, an affectionate nickname made to indulge her bellowing fans.·“You look the part. I think your fans will love it, too, considering you’re the one under that name. Risecchi. Guess I’m the first to call you that,” Naoya offers another easygoing smile, turning the subject back on to her.·

♠ :What is the hardest thing about playing this muse?

[ Hmmmmm. His immaturity maybe? There’s certain things and way that he reacts to things where I’m just “Yosuke no. Stop. Please. Oh my god shut up.” Which maybe I guess is why I prefer playing late game/post P4 Yosuke? Because he shows more maturity and tends to think more before he opens his mouth? ]

☺ :Favourite canon scene/chapter involving your muse?