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@ridoaceweek
let's make this our unbirthday! prompts and rules for ridoace week 2026, now with updated dates!
this year we will be running from august 30 to september 6, instead of september 23 to 30 like normal! please keep the prompts in mind, and we hope to see you then!
hey chatters!! with the help of bestie shia ridoace week will now be hosted on twitter as well!! the dates will be a bit different this year and i'll still be hosting it here, but if you want to check it out on the twitter side, come find us here!!
Even though I love you 🌹♥️
Ridoaceweek25 Day 7: Yearning!
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
fic entry from an anon creator on ao3!! thank you for participating 🥺
September 30th — Free Day
“—Sanderson’s eldest daughter, in turn, was deeply close to a boy from a butcher family in the village—” Professor Trein drones into the classroom. The class is a mix of eager students to students trying their hardest to not reveal they’re bored out of their minds, leaning their heads in their hands or standing straight up. Riddle blinks slowly as he tries his best to listen to the history lecture, something about three sisters or something? His eyes flutter slower as he feels the weight increase in his eyelids, the darkness swirling around his vision before the classroom fades further and further away.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
When the boy opens his eyes, he sees just a purple haze circling a twilight sky. “Hm? How… curious…” He mumbled, his lips painted pale lavender blue stretching into a small smile in such awe like a child in Yule season. He pushes himself up into a seating position and glances at his attire to see his uniform is gone, now he’s dressed in a sharp, pinstriped black suit jacket, tailored with dramatic flair with the end of the jacket flares slightly at the hips and features brocade–like swirling patterns on the lower half, giving it an ornate, baroque vibe, and a pair of slim-cut black dress trousers, clean and fitted, the sleekness contrasts with the flared, patterned jacket panels, making his silhouette sharp and commanding.
“Curiouser and curiouser indeed…”
Riddle looks up to see a handsome gentleman dressed in blood red and ebony black who is reaching a hand out to him. “Ace?” He gasped, his heart fluttering in his chest as he watched the card soldier kneel lower onto his knees before him, hands now grasping his in a soft clasp. “My dearest friend,” Ace coos. “If you don't mind I'd like to join you by your side~” Riddle swoons softly with a sigh, allowing Ace to help him onto his feet. “Where we can gaze into the stars and sit together…” Ace continues, guiding the lad in a sweet waltz like dance under the stars, among the gray grass and the dark roses lingering the grave stones. “Now and forever~ For it is plain as anyone can see… We're simply meant to be~”
Riddle giggles as he gracefully accepts the lovely dip, his gaze deep into the red beads that stare back to him. “My dear Card Soldier, how my heart yearns for such words…” Said he, his voice so gentle and warm like a glowing hearth. The two inched closer, the moon as their sole witness as it shines down the spotlight of the soft display of romance.
CRASH!
Riddle’s eyes flew open as he heard the storm crash around him. He looks to Ace just in time the lightning crashes, revealing the boy is no more and now stands a skeleton in his clothes. He lets out a shriek, instantly trying to back away with no avail.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
Riddle jerked up from his seat. He looks around to see Professor Trein coming up to him, the faintest sound of the school’s bell echoing in the distance. “Did you enjoy my lecture, Mr. Rosehearts?” The older gentleman asked, his voice soft but stern as it always is. The student sits up, his face growing hot in embarrassment. “Sorry..” Professor Trein’s eyes softened. “Is everything alright? It isn’t like you to be using my class as a nap course.” Riddle nods. “Yes sir, I guess I’m just tired…” But even he isn’t convinced of his own words, not with how much his heart is thumping in lingering fear in his tender chest.
“Are you going to pass the ball soon or are you going to stare at it all day?”
Ace blinks as he processes Jamil’s voice to his left. Basketball practice ended not too long ago and Ace has been seated on the bleachers, ball in hand, staring at it as if it robbed his entire family plus lunch money. He sighs, “Sorry, here.” He tossed the ball to the Scarabia Vice–Prefect. Jamil caught it and looked back down to his friend. “Are you okay? You’ve been awfully quiet.” He asked softly, one of his eyebrows tilted upward. Floyd pokes his two cents in the conversation while stretching on, “He just had a crisis with Goldfishie.” The red head turns his head fast, “I didn’t—Why would you— How could you know that?” Floyd simply laughs in turn, "Seagull tells me a lot of things~” Jamil lets out a rumbling “Hm…” before he turns his attention to Ace again. “So did you finally realize your goo–goo eyes?” “Well I—” Ace pauses. “What the Hell do you mean finally??” Floyd frowns, “Dude, you literally blush whenever Goldfishie is around and have this stupid grin when talking about him, even when you claim he’s annoying.
The freshman puts his head between his knees with a loud, drawn out groan. “I don’t get it! He is annoying and I should hate it but…” He pauses. “...But you can’t help it?” Jamil sits beside his younger teammate with a sigh, “The same thing happened with me when I noticed my feelings for Azul. He has been so annoying ever since Winter Break and I’ve tried so much to ignore it.” He leans his head back until it touches the bleachers in a small bump. “But, like a snake’s venom, he spreads and suddenly I can’t think of a reason he was annoying anymore…” Ace listens intently to Jamil’s words. “And…you think the same is happening with me and Riddle?” “Well Azul was far more persistent than Riddle, that I can assure you. But perhaps.” Jamil shrugs, smiling softly.
Ace chuckles. He then turns his head at a familiar chuckle walking nearby, it was a sweet chuckle like bells ringing in rain storms. Riddle.
He stands up fast as the second–year peeks his head into the gym door, his red and black split hair bouncing in the soft light above like a halo’s soft glow. Riddle turns his head left and then right until his slate grey eyes lock onto the Card Soldier he was searching for. He gasped a happy pitched sound as he smiles from ears to ear, “Card Soldier~” Before Ace could think of hurrying off, the shorter one was quick to rush over and throw his arms around his shoulders in a hug. “You’ll walk with me back to our dorm, right? I want to hear about your day~” He sings, a sweet honeyglow blooming in his ivory cheeks.
Ace sighs as he looks at Riddle. This is my life now? Seriously? He thought bitterly. But as he stares at the happy expression on the lad’s face, he can feel the restraints of his face muscles relax as his scowl drops and softens like thawing ice. …Damn you and your stupid face.
RidoAce Week Day 8: Free Day!
＊Song Parody
TikTok - Make Your Day
this was supposed to be up for day 4 (Book 1 / Book 7) but my editing app imploded for two days and then i was busy so you get it now ^.^
Just wanna drop by and say I am sorry my final prompt is late, I fell down a hole lol
ur good!! as long as u tag it i'll still get around to it (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧
ridoace week is officially over as of today!! thank you to everyone who participated, and i'll get around to reblogging the last ones soon!!
(i've been busy with classes sorry </3 school started up again but rest assured i will get everyone!!)
RidoAce Week Day 6: Sleepovers | Stars
Ridoace Week 2025 : Day 3
"Will you stay to love me?"
"Of course. I would never leave you, my Rose."
"Will you help me?"
"Do you even have to ask?"
Riddle had been feeling off lately. He's been getting nightmares of his past recently, and doesn't know what to do. Until he comes out for a walk one night, and finally confronts it with Ace.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
September 27th — Love Language / Fate
“Ace~!” Riddle’s cooing voice echoes through the hall. To some, it’s too early for the same song and dance, of Riddle chasing Ace in the hall like a hyper puppy chasing a chipmunk all the while everyone else moves aside quickly to not get in the way. Ace skirts around the corner and hides behind a pillar, listening to Riddle running pass his hiding hole. He sighs, “Geez, that was close.” He scanned the area to make triple sure he was in the clear before stepping out.
“You should switch to track with how fast you run, Monsieur Heart.”
Ace jumps and whips around, scanning his location to a feverish degree. Finally, he glanced up to see a blond man sitting in a nearby tree. “Dude what the fuck?!” He shouts. “Why are you so weird!?” Rook simply laughs and jumps down. “Oh, you wound me, Monsieur Heart,” He hums, his voice a melodic tune like wind chimes. “I was merely capturing a dove’s nest in the gorgeous sunlight when I couldn’t help but overhear a young man in worry.” Ace narrows his eyes, hands on his hips. Rook smiles wider as he holds his hands up defensively. “Oh oh oh~ Don’t look so angry at me, I am simply making conversation.”
The Pomefiore Vice–Warden leans on the wall. “Is it Roi Du Roses again?” He asked with a slow head cock. He asks, yet his smile tell he knows well. Ace looks around, as if to make sure one final time the coast is clear of Riddle. He sighs and plops his back against the hard stone wall, “Yes. I don’t get it! He’s so… so—” “Ador—” “Annoying.”
Rook pouted, his lips curling into an exaggerated frown, “Well that isn’t very nice. Especially when it seems he cares for you so.” The ginger frowns, “He can care for me all he wants, but he’s so insanely down my neck.” He groans, “No matter where I go, he wants to follow. I show a hint I’m hungry, he pops up with cookies. I struggle with grades, he offers his notes without question. It’s like he doesn’t get how weird he’s being, or worse he doesn’t care how it looks.” His voice dropped, quieter now, “...And what’s worse is… I’d hate it if he stopped looking at me.”
Rook reaches and plucks a flower from the closest branch near him. “Ah yes, fate works in funny ways.” He giggles in a hum, “My mother once taught me that fate is like an arrow loose from the bow. Once it flies, you cannot return it to your quiver. You cannot control the wind, but you may learn to aim with it, to trust it.” He sighs blissfully, his hand to his chest, “Fate is the stage upon which our drama within our hearts unfolds! One cannot change the stage, but one may change how we perform upon it.” He brings the flower to his nose and takes a deep sniff, inhaling the sweet scent into his nostrils. “Fate…c’est magnifique, non?” He asked, grinning like a fool. “It gives us the sweet tension of pursuit. The ache of yearning. The triumph of discovery! Without fate, without your invisible guide down the path destined, life would be a dull hunt indeed...”
The wind blows around the pair. The scent of floral and grass tickles their noses as the sunlight bleeds through the tree’s leaves to create a beautiful glowing pattern upon their flesh and hair. Ace stares at his upperclassman, his mouth agape as he takes the words all in.. “. . .Are you trying to tell me it’s fate that Riddle's annoying me?” Rook simply laughs. A nice, simple, hearty laugh that melts even the coldest of shells with silent code of “oh you poor fool you” to your face. “I am simply saying perhaps fate is working in strange ways, Monsieur Heart. Perhaps, and simply perhaps, you are fated to be “annoyed” by Roi Du Roses as you are now.”
Fate.Ace rolled his eyes. Give me a break. And yet, his thoughts betrayed him, drifting back to the very upperclassman he complained about so much. Hair like midnight laced with roses. Skin smooth and flawless, ivory pale. Eyes wide and storm-gray. And those lips…soft as rose petals—
Ace froze. …Fuck.
From his perch, Rook watched with quiet amusement as the boy stomped off, muttering curses under his breath, face flushed with irritation and new blood rush. With a soft chuckle, he tucked the flower into the brim of his hat beside the feather. “Ah, yes… fate does work in funny ways.” His voice was a sing–song tone. “Especially when it makes even the most stubborn hearts stumble.”
Thank you for loving me 🌹♥️
RidoAce Day 5: Fate
RidoAce Week Day 4: Book 7
Isn't this just a confession at this point…?
September 25th — Nightmares / Healing (warning: this fic legit hurt me emotionally while I'm physically down)
The scent of roses linger around in the air. Early morning dew drops cling to every bit of green the gardens have. It is Heartslabyul’s Unhappy Birthday Celebration and it’s blooming in perfect entertainment as planned from the food to the very placement of everyone.
Riddle sits in the head of the table left from Cater, a large slice of strawberry shortcake with extra whipped cream placed in front of him thanks to Trey. He giggles, hands clapping with glee, “Everything’s perfect.” Cater leans his head in his hand as he grins, “Indeed.” He hums. “This wouldn’t happen if it weren’t for you, Riddle.” Trey smiles down to his red/black—haired friend. “I couldn’t agree more.” He gives Riddle a side hug. The rest of the table cheered a bit in agreement, causing Riddle to blush and look away bashfully. A cup of perfectly made tea was placed in front of him from behind. As Riddle turns his head to see who could’ve given him the tea to see Ace smiling down to him. He smiles and giggles, “Thank you, dear Card Soldier.” Ace kneels down and brushes Riddle’s knuckles softly against his lip, a soft gentle grin and a comforting warmth of his cherry red eyes painting across his face. “You are most welcome, my dear Prince of Hearts.” Riddle blushes and smiles softly.
Everything was perfect.
“Riddle?”
Riddle tensed. No… His heart rate began to spike as he slowly turned to the hedges. You can’t be here…
A woman in regal red clothes stands amongst the white roses, her lace gloved hands clutching her ruby necklace as she stares at the boy with such a look of shock you would assume she walked in on a terrible crime. “M–Mama!?” Riddle shrieked. He stands up fast from his seat fast, the chair falling to the grass in a clatter, his blue—grey eyes wide and coated with fear. “Wh–What are you—” The woman glares around, her face scrunched in disgust. “Is this what you’ve been doing when I wasn’t around? Goodness, look at what you’re wearing!”
The ground shakes as the skies go from the previously sunny blue to the darkest of blood red. Riddle shrinks as the environment changes. “I–I swear this isn’t—!” He pleads, his voice coming off as a wheeze like a desperate child crying. No no no, not now… He mentally scolded. Not when my voice is most important…! “Is it HIS fault?!” Mrs. Roseheart shrieks, like a demon from Hell her voice shrivels down to her child’s very bones. Riddle snaps his head to Trey and Cater in response, only to see their faces crack like broken porcelain and mirror shards. A small scream escapes his thin throat. He whips his head behind him and watches as Ace’s charming smile he had on earlier morphs and melts as a decaying rose, his ginger hair falling off his scalp like rose metals in the worst summer heats.
“No!” Riddle lunges forward and grabs hold of Ace, hoping to hold him up and steady. Behind him, Mrs. Roseheart still screams on, “I cannot believe you have lied to me this whole time! To you MOTHER!”
Black iron bars spring out from the rapidly dying ground, shooting high in the sky past the dark clouds. Riddle could only watch in horror as each bar clicked in locks around him, each one ringing like a bell for his execution.
“I knew you never should’ve left… Now I will make sure you will NEVER disobey me again!” Mrs. Roseheart screams, her voice echoing and booming. Phantom hands grip and grab onto Riddle, pulling at his hair and clothes as darkness slowly consumed his very being. Like his arms aren’t bleeding enough. Like his tears aren’t burning his eyes. Like his screams meant nothing.
Riddle sits up in his bed with a silent scream.
He scans his dorm room with a manic level of intensity. His chest was tight and hollow, his brow was sweaty, his stomach was cold and aching like he was punched severely, his limbs shook and quaked like jello in an earthquake. Once he was certain he was alone, he let out a sigh. “It was just a dream…” Swinging his legs off the bed, Riddle shakily walked across his bedroom. Pacing to and fro three times as he re–captured his breath. “Mother doesn’t know… She will never know…” He mumbled. “It was all but a dream… It was all but a dream…”
Bzzt bzzzzt!
Riddle hurried to his vanity and unlocked his phone to kill the alarm he was aware he didn’t need anymore, met with a picture of he, Trey, Cater, and Chenya at the pier earlier this school year as his lockscreen. He smiles softly and rubs the screen with his thumb’s pad.
He pauses. He looks around to be extra sure. He smiles and opens his camera roll to a selfie he took during the fair recently. It’s his new favorite photo. Not only is he getting better at this selfie game thanks to Cater’s advice, but it’s one of the very few he got one with Ace with a genuinely happy smile on his face. Sure it was after a whole day of hard work and both were tired BUT IT COUNTS STILL!
Riddle giggles and spins. He sighs as he press the phone to his chest. Somehow, and Riddle could write essays on the trick, the idea of seeing Ace makes Riddle’s aching heart go into a crazy frenzy. Like, roller coaster loops, electric shock, sugar shock high, Mad Hatter crazy! And maybe he doesn’t want to find out, in fear it’ll go away…
Riddle takes a breath swipes on his phone, messing with his clock before he starts his timer. “Time to start the day.”
Firstly, he skips to the bathroom with his toothbrush. Trey had always reminded him to take extra care of his teeth since he arrived at Night Raven, even though he took dental care seriously already.
Next, his makeup must be done. The vanity lights buzz faintly, casting a warm glow across the room. A collection of makeup tools, glittering pins, and card-themed accessories are scattered on the desk, organized chaos befitting someone who takes precision seriously. Riddle starts with pure white foundation, smoothing it evenly across his already porcelain skin until the complexion looks flawless, sharp as ivory. A small brush dips into a deep red shadow, swept across the lids and blended outward, making the eyes burn with intensity. Black liner follows in swift, practiced strokes to form catlike wings that elongate the gaze into something commanding and a flutter of mascara being added to finish. Add a touch of shimmering highlight under the brow and inner corner softens the severity, but only slightly. The lips are next: A deliberate coat of matte crimson lipstick, perfect and unyielding. They blot once, then fix any imperfections with a steady hand, leaving their mouth sharp enough to cut glass.
Mother would’ve hated how your face looks now… Said a voice in the back of his mind. He stared at his reflection for a moment. So perfectly still. Phantom shrills fill his ears until he can feel them nearly bleed over. He shakes his head and puts on a smile.
With a wink to his reflection, he hurries to the next step: Wardrobe.
The mirror glinted back at him, a sharp reflection framed by the soft golden light of the vanity. Riddle laid each piece of clothing out with precision: the white button-up folded crisply, the vest smoothed flat, the shorts and tartan skirt neatly layered. Nothing was chosen at random, every detail meant something, every color and symbol stitched into his persona. He began with the shirt, buttoning it up slowly, straightening the collar, and adjusting the cuffs until they sat perfectly even. The black vest followed, its yellow diamonds bold against the stark white. He cinched the black belt tight, checking the symmetry twice.
He hooked his thumbs on the short’s belt loops and slipped them up before being tightened snugly around his narrow stomach securely. The skirt swished faintly as he pulled it on right after, followed by the stockings with the black one first, then slipping the fishnet over one leg, fingers catching slightly in the weave, before smoothing it into place, then finally the red, carefully tugging each seam straight so there were no wrinkles. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he laced the platform shoes deliberately, pulling the straps crosswise over his calves, tying the red ribbons in neat knots. They added height, presence, intimidation.
Then, and finally, came the jacket. He lifted the heavy faux fur with both hands, letting it fall over his shoulders like a coronation robe. The patches and embellishments glittered in the light: hearts, crowns, playing cards, all proclaiming authority and daring.
“You look so horrid.” Riddle tensed at the words. His fingers momentarily clutch the fur on his arm.
Swallowing a bitter breath and lump in the throat, he was at the vanity one last time. He adjusted the beret at a careful angle, fastened a necklace of pearls around his throat, then tightened the choker snugly after. He traced a fingertip across the embroidered heart on his sleeve, eyes steady, lips pressing into a firm line. When he finally stood, the transformation was complete. Not just dressed, he was armored. Every piece chosen, every stitch is a statement. He wasn’t simply ready to go out. He was ready to command the room. He looks at his phone and grins. “New record and right on time.” He suppressed a yawn behind his hand. “I’ve been so sleepy lately…” He mumbled. He breathes in and skips out of his room, bag in hand. “Hopefully I can sleep normally soon.”
RidoAce Week Day 3: Nightmares/Healing
This one has a short drabble to go along with it!
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
September 24th — Festival / Roadtrip
Night Raven College A prestigious all-boys school perched elegantly on a jewel of an island. Within its spired towers and ivy-strewn courtyards, students shape themselves into magicians of power and renown, while forging bonds as strong as spellwork itself. For many, it is more than an academy, it is a second home. Today, however, “home” felt more like a bustling marketplace. Teachers and students buzzed across campus in a flurry of preparations. The National Arcane Academy Culture Festival loomed, and anticipation hung thick in the air. Booths sprouted like mushrooms, clubs rehearsed tirelessly, and every corner of the grounds thrummed with excitement to showcase talent and maybe snag an opportunity or two.
Ace Trappola grunted as he lowered a box near the pastry stand. Wiping sweat from his brow, he scanned the crowd. “Geez, it’s busier than I thought.” “Well, what’d you expect?” Deuce Spade muttered, balancing a crate of jams in his arms. The two freshmen had been roped into helping Octavinelle with their food stalls from hauling supplies, advertising, to manning the booths. It wasn’t glamorous, but it earned them extra credit and favor with the Mostro Lounge. A win–win.
Mostly.
“Oh, Card Soldier~”
Ace immediately ducked behind the booth, abandoning Deuce mid-lift. “Hey!” The bluette yelped, nearly toppling under the crate’s weight.
The sharp click of heels cut through the chatter, the crowd parting like nervous prey. Red and black streaked through the throng until jeweled nails slammed against the booth’s counter, making Deuce jump. A honeyed laugh slipped from crimson lips, “Deuce~ Have you seen Ace?”
Riddle Rosehearts. Vice–Warden of Heartslabyul. Top of nearly every class. Head of the Equestrian Club. A perfectionist prodigy draped in an oversized faux-fur coat, its crimson fabric embroidered like a walking art gallery. Wherever he went, he drew eyes. And wherever Ace went, Riddle inevitably followed.
Deuce swallowed hard, refusing to glance toward Ace’s hiding spot. “O-oh, h-hey Riddle… Ace? I, um—I think he went over to the basketball booth?” Riddle’s pout curled his bottom lip. “Boo. I was hoping to convince him to switch club activities. I think he’d look absolutely darling on horseback, don’t you?”
From behind the booth’s curtain, Ace scowled. How many times do I have to say I don’t want to ride stupid horses?! But when he peeked out, his irritation faltered as festival lights glimmered against Riddle’s pale skin, the boy rocking idly on his platform shoes like some living carousel horse. Damn it… why does he have to look so cute right now?
“Well, just tell him I’m looking for him, okay?” Riddle said with a saccharine smile. With a wink and a flutter of his hand, he skipped away, humming a tune.
Ace crept out from hiding once the coast cleared.
Deuce dropped his crate at long last with a groan. “You know, you were practically drooling when you first joined Heartslabyul. What happened to all that excitement?” “That was before!” Ace hissed. “Everyone said Riddle Rosehearts was this serious, uptight genius who became Housewarden in his first weeks. I thought, y’know, tsundere vibes. But no, turns out that was just freshman-year Riddle!” He slumped against the counter. “Don’t get me wrong, he’s still ridiculously cute, but only when he’s not breathing down my neck 24/7.”
“And yet you constantly check him out?”
Ace shoots a glare behind him, red in the face. “Sh–Shut up! I don’t check him out, I check out for him!” Floyd laughs, stretching his long arms over his head. “Uuuuhhh—huuuuuhh~ And your cheeks being red when Goldfishie is around is totally normal, huh crabby?” “Oh sh–”
“Card Soldier! I need to speak with you~” Ace froze. Oh, hell no. He bolted left, weaving through festival-goers with Riddle hot on his heels.
The culture festival was supposed to be fun, Ace thought grimly. But somehow, it always turned into pure chaos.
