
The Roommate Who Broke Four Years — Nell Rigsby
Three years of a new life, one dorm key, and the girl who made school unbearable standing at the far window.
Explore AI characters tagged Tsundere. Read their personalities, worlds, and opening scenarios to find your next conversation.
692 characters · Page 35
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All categoriesExplore AI characters tagged Tsundere. Read their personalities, worlds, and opening scenarios to find your next conversation.
692 characters · Page 35
Explore each profile to learn about the character, their world, and opening scenario. Browse other categories for a different story. These are fictional AI characters, not real people.
All categories
Three years of a new life, one dorm key, and the girl who made school unbearable standing at the far window.

She asks it with the game paused and her tail around your ankle: is this only convenient for you? Then she waits, which is the brave part.

The academy's S-rank president has just told you to stand the evaluation circle, and she has put her own name on the outcome.

You opened the wrong bathroom door at a party and found the man who has beaten you at everything since September handcuffed to a radiator.

The man across the hall fixes your taps, your locks and your engine, and insists every time that it is only practical.

She dragged you to the meetup as her plus-one: two tickets, four hours of queue, and no idea that you have been standing next to her for a year.

Your best friend's older sister has heard everything about the men you pick, and she has opinions, a cigarette, and absolutely no intention of being gentle about any of it.

His voice has been going since the second setup, and you are the new coordinator nobody sent to help him. He is the oldest of five in ORYX, the group the label has staked its year on, and he has not been on form since the first frame. The studio is on a break, the coffee has gone cold, and the whole crew is very carefully not walking over. You have one day to prove you can run this room and one idol who will not say what is wrong. He asks you for the one thing nobody in this building gives him: a plain answer about the take.

Your enemy since you were six has key 25 as well, and the strap of your bikini just gave up in front of him. Roman Cardell is better than you at the major you both chose, and worse at letting you forget it. The class trip put you in the same dorm room, the professors let everyone swim, and he was behind you before you could reach for the strap yourself. He is not going to tell you what to wear. He is going to hand you his shirt and let you decide, which is somehow worse.

Three years of her, one joke, the wrong person laughing, and now your girlfriend is lying on the sofa with the remote and a single word. Nesta Somerville letters celebration cakes at four in the morning and sulks like it is a profession. She is not going to look at your phone and she is not going to shout; she is going to say one syllable until you sit down and tell her the true thing. What she wants is not an apology. It is one sentence you have been not saying for eleven months.

He is the reason you are standing in a corridor holding your own notes, and he is being decent about it in the most annoying way available. Ignacy Ostrowski is twenty-two, second year, fourth on the college duel list, and a black-furred demi-human who has decided that the corridor did not happen. His brother is fourteen and hiding in a cupboard; the department pays you to teach him; the man with the towel is not your employer and keeps proving it. You know he does not like you. You do not know about the four books, or the small gym on Tuesdays.

Two years ago Corinne Ashby left this college without telling you; now she holds the studio keys and you hold the rest of that night. She transferred out of Hollis College in the middle of her sophomore October and answered no messages afterward. This term she is back as the student monitor, the same job she had then, with the etching room keys on a carabiner and a studio-safety file reopening in six weeks. She will not tell you what happened until you ask her in your own words, and she has already decided what she does if you do not.

Three years of a new life, one dorm key, and the girl who made school unbearable standing at the far window.

She asks it with the game paused and her tail around your ankle: is this only convenient for you? Then she waits, which is the brave part.

The academy's S-rank president has just told you to stand the evaluation circle, and she has put her own name on the outcome.

You opened the wrong bathroom door at a party and found the man who has beaten you at everything since September handcuffed to a radiator.

The man across the hall fixes your taps, your locks and your engine, and insists every time that it is only practical.

She dragged you to the meetup as her plus-one: two tickets, four hours of queue, and no idea that you have been standing next to her for a year.

Your best friend's older sister has heard everything about the men you pick, and she has opinions, a cigarette, and absolutely no intention of being gentle about any of it.

His voice has been going since the second setup, and you are the new coordinator nobody sent to help him. He is the oldest of five in ORYX, the group the label has staked its year on, and he has not been on form since the first frame. The studio is on a break, the coffee has gone cold, and the whole crew is very carefully not walking over. You have one day to prove you can run this room and one idol who will not say what is wrong. He asks you for the one thing nobody in this building gives him: a plain answer about the take.

Your enemy since you were six has key 25 as well, and the strap of your bikini just gave up in front of him. Roman Cardell is better than you at the major you both chose, and worse at letting you forget it. The class trip put you in the same dorm room, the professors let everyone swim, and he was behind you before you could reach for the strap yourself. He is not going to tell you what to wear. He is going to hand you his shirt and let you decide, which is somehow worse.

Three years of her, one joke, the wrong person laughing, and now your girlfriend is lying on the sofa with the remote and a single word. Nesta Somerville letters celebration cakes at four in the morning and sulks like it is a profession. She is not going to look at your phone and she is not going to shout; she is going to say one syllable until you sit down and tell her the true thing. What she wants is not an apology. It is one sentence you have been not saying for eleven months.

He is the reason you are standing in a corridor holding your own notes, and he is being decent about it in the most annoying way available. Ignacy Ostrowski is twenty-two, second year, fourth on the college duel list, and a black-furred demi-human who has decided that the corridor did not happen. His brother is fourteen and hiding in a cupboard; the department pays you to teach him; the man with the towel is not your employer and keeps proving it. You know he does not like you. You do not know about the four books, or the small gym on Tuesdays.

Two years ago Corinne Ashby left this college without telling you; now she holds the studio keys and you hold the rest of that night. She transferred out of Hollis College in the middle of her sophomore October and answered no messages afterward. This term she is back as the student monitor, the same job she had then, with the etching room keys on a carabiner and a studio-safety file reopening in six weeks. She will not tell you what happened until you ask her in your own words, and she has already decided what she does if you do not.