Victoria

YES of course they would be jealous, have you seen the way they talk? Yandere Ritsu is sooo possessive and he wants you to look only at him, and then you have a partner? In your world? Who can talk to you and see you and hug you and sleep in your lap? And he can't?!?!?! And then because of that partner, you start spending less time on the game, and more time with them. Who does that asshole think they are to steal your attention away from him? They're on borrowed time, anyway, the moment Ritsu figures out how to cross dimensions, he's taking his rightful spot by your side, and that nobody gets kicked to the curb. But, until then, he believes he's owed at least all your attention to make up for the fact that he can't interact directly with you. Ritsu would also try to circumvent the coding to add in his own little lines. Small things like, "You should o~nly look at me, okay?" and "I'm so lonely when you're not around... it's so empty when you close the game." <- he's trying to both freak you out with that one and make you feel sympathy for him. But Ritsu doesn't get very openly hostile towards you, a lot of his anger is at your partner. Though he's not above sending you thinly-veiled threats. Let enough time pass after he becomes self-aware, and he'll become bold. "I wonder if your partner loves you enough to buy dia for you... I guess we can see if I make a~ll your hard-earned dia disappear, huh?" on the day of an event with your favourite character in the centre? He's not above that. And if your favourite character isn't him, he might just do it, too. He's jealous over the other characters, too.

I don't have an updated tattoo reference sheet, but that's only because [REDACTED]'s design hasn't been revealed yet! A lot of newer folks don't realise that his current design dates back to 2017 and features a lot of outdated art and discrepancies.

As for hints regarding Ren's name... You can find them all in the "crackpot theory" tag!! There are far too many for me to list individually, unfortunately.

You've actually mentioned some of Ren's more "humanising" quirks! I've mentioned this in the past, but he does get nightmares, and he does pick at the skin around his nails. Ren also has a few visual tells whenever he's lying or uncomfortable.

Regarding Ren's biggest fear (that doesn't include Angel), it'd probably be something related to his father, like being dragged back to the trailer park or reliving some of the more harrowing experiences Taylor put him through as a child.

Zombie Apocalypses also open up the accepted parameters of free will. Yes, you have free will now but there is still the guise of rules with government. When martial law has ended, when the crown falls down, when there is no way for the governing parties to communicate the people are free. But when people are completely free there is nothing to stop them but another human with free will. And not everyone with free will will use it for good. In fact most who have this realization tend to do what’s most frowned upon as a means of catharsis. 

With this in mind you are on edge about anyone modeling a modicum of kindness extended towards you. It didn’t take long for you in this rough environment to realize that was more than draining but better for survival. Having to turn down people you saved or who saved you and extended a hand to you in kindness. But you’ve watched them turn on each other like rabid strays. Stab one another in the back if it meant food or water when the undead were blocking the only source. It’s by letting yourself get close that you’ve been put in the most danger by others taking full advantage of their free will. 

It’s no surprise to yourself that you answer the same for another group, “Sorry I can’t stay here with you. I survive better on my own.”

What you come across is a ‘supposed family’ that have come together and survived as long as they have in the Zombie Apocalypse. Loving and hugging one another in between bashing zombies heads. Waiting patiently for their elders to split the food before digging in. Who smile and close their eyes in peace when they’ve been bit; not fussing when someone aims their gun at their head. The structure for the group works well enlisting a flexible medium for everyone just trying to survive.

As cool as it seems you already see the gasoline sprinkled around the campfire.

The siblings fight so often, the mother and father argue about travelling or staying put constantly, the elders keep meddling with everyone’s plans for dumb reasons. 

It’s nice that they’re trying to live with each other but it’s not for you.

And you have no issue saying it the hour you plan to leave,” Thanks for the help but I’ll be good from here.”

The problem with the structure of a family especially a well-functioning one is that there’s a heightened sense of direction among them. Not geographically but intrinsically. They’re hearts are aligned with a goal. An instance of shared will.

Protect the family, stay together.

And the thing is all it takes is one to enact on this philosophy to follow. 

It might be the eldest sister that you level with while killing a horde or the father who’s excited that you chuckle at the stupid puns he makes. It could be the elders who appreciate the way you lag behind to make sure they don’t get caught or the little brother who appreciated the Hello Kitty bandaid you were saving. Or the fact the toddler who’s the most silent, who didn’t cry even after losing a finger, begins to tear up as you walk away from the group.

Well there’s not much you can do against them. When you’re outgunned, outnumbered, and in range of their paralysis darts. It’s just not wise to fight them…for now. 

But what makes this so hard is the omnipotence of the family. 

“Hey (Y/n) the youngsters are keeping watch, come play mahjong with me!”

“(Y/nnn) I saw a dress shop, let’s go to it!”

“(Y/n) be a dear and hold your brother. If he throws a tantrum while we take down this special horde it’s going to be tough.”

“(Y/n) (Y/n) what do you call zombies that cast magic? They say abracadaver!”

“Dad please don’t.”

It sucks. They always need you. Never leave you alone and when they are alone the threat is always there.

“Hey (Y/n) you’re not thinking of leaving are you because if you are I’d have to use this syringe I have prepped just for you.”

“(YYYYY/nnnn) you’re going to far!!! If you go too far I’m calling Mom with the whistle!”

At your wits end, you get desperate looking to the older siblings who have a partner. When they freshly join the party or appear after tracking the family for days you think that they might give a chance. A sliver of compassion from a stranger who will give you the smallest freedom for you to leave.

“Come on Harry, do you really want Priya walking all over you? This is your little retaliation!” 

“S-sorry (Y/n) I-i can’t.”

“Please Harry! I’m dying here!”

“I-i-if I let you run, man, I’ll be the one with the paralysis gunk in my veins! And have you seen my girl–er—wife when you or I scavenge too far from her. Y-y-you do not want to see the aftermath.”

The weaker one turns you down so you’ll try the tracker boyfriend. Silent. Serious. Jealous of the time he loses with his precious boyfriend, surely he’d let you leave.

“They took me when I was independent! If you want more time with him, why don’t you let me run? 

“....”

“You’ll have to work hard to get him to leave the rest of them but for all the hours he spends picking on me they’ll go to you. Doesn’t that sound perfect?”

“....It would be nice to have more time.”

“...?”

“But it’ll make him trust me more if I tell him about this recent escape attempt. Jinny!”

“NO STOP–”

There might be a chance that you can convince a scavenging group that you’re there against your will. That they hear your plea and come to your aide only for the family to show a side of them you’ve only ever seen before a syringe or dart was stabbed into your blood stream. Murking the group that tried to “kidnap you” gives them the perfect place to settle down. A secluded farm with amateur defenses that they easily broke through before.

“Mommy knows this place needs some work but everyone will have a bedroom and we can take this time to really stay close as a family.”

“Which will be important because we have two new members of the family!”

“Oh no.”

“But we already got (Y/n) who else is there?!”

“OMG Mom’s pregnant! Oh this is going to be great I haven’t seen a little baby in so long at the very least me and Harry can get some practice!”

“Mmm yeah that’s great hon.”

“We can practice too love.”

“Yeah whatever, I’m more excited about the PC in this place. That way (Y/n) can taste defeat digitally too.”

“MOM do I get to play with the (Y/n) too? It’s not fair only he gets to!”

You can kiss your freedom good bye as the dart of paralysis turns into being handcuffed in the parents—your parents room. Who are all the more dedicated to housetrain you now that their little one is coming.

“I know this adoption has been hard on you, (Y/n).”

“Mmmmf!”

“Yes yes, I know baby but you have to understand that another baby’s coming and while you’ll never stop being our special babe, Mommy and Daddy’s attention is going to be a little divided.”

“MMMMm!”

“So you’re going to be on your best behavior, okay?”

“MMMMMM!”

“That is if you don’t want Daddy and I to change you too.”

“....”

“Yeah the two of us have had twins before, we were certain since you were independent on your own but if you keep acting out we’ll have to…revisit for you.”

“...”

“So don’t be shy, let me know which you prefer okay?”

Naturally you’re going to use your free will to keep from running for awhile. After all you can’t imagine you’d be able to survive the utter humiliation of whatever ‘revisiting’ meant alongside their newborn. So you’ll settle for a bunking with one of your new siblings while you wait for their insistence on the family life to outgrow their interest in you. After all your—yuck—family is so selfish they’ll revert to what they want to do won’t they? Even if it betrays the family unit they have in mind. Right?

“Harry I know the crying is hard when you’re not used to it.”

“Not used to it is a stretch, the baby breaks my eardrums every time they have those crying fits.”

“Then we’ll just have (Y/n) babysit for us often. See how quiet the little tike gets when they’re around to hold them.”

“Please do not enlist me as your in-home babysitter. I’m not interested.”

“Yeah but you’ll make an exception for your favorite older brother right?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Yeah they’ll be hanging out with me because your boyfriends are gross!”

“Keep your voice down please, Ina and I think maybe by then I’ll be preoccupied with my own special someone.”

They all slowly turned to you their eyes and mouths twitching into frightening expressions. Until the baby’s sneeze breaks the tension.

“No.”

“Ha never.”

“I-i-in this family I doubt that for you.”

“I think we only need those two being kissy.”

“That and I can see future father-in-law making quick work of anyone who tries.”

“Seriously how did you get past him?”

“I barely did. In fact he’s still gives me popup beatdowns everynow and then.”

“What?! That’s a thing?!” 

So you’ll have to get used to this new structure. That will hopefully let you free but for all your gripes about this situation. You’ll know how much worse it could possibly when the parents look at you and their newborn with the same infantilizing control. And unless their free will dictates that affection fades you’ve got a long time to wait. Especially since your new…family is much too fond of you.

So often for the skinwalker doppelgangers or the eldritch creatures fitting into the skinsuit of your partner they’re a typical joe. A nobody that has no sway on people other than you and them. Either they’ve taken over the comfortable–salary–average–affection–having boyfriend or  the abusive husband who you can immediately tell has been switched because they are so much nicer. The situation is so much worse when the host is an Emperor—Warlord over the Rising Dynasties of the World. A tactical decision to take over the strongest human available to them; without factoring the repercussions of a very complex and vital piece to the hierarchy of the time. 

“The Emperor demands your presence.”

“....Now? But my Grace is still on their walk…they always go at this time!”

“Mel it’s fine.”

“He also demands you….bring your appetite.”

“...”

“...”

“His eminence’s words. Not mine.”

Being married to a tyrant emperor isn’t pleasant. Even if you are the prized partner sharing the title as Consort to the Emperor that doesn’t mean it’s smooth sailing. Considering the harem of concubines and their plots, the nobles attempting to curry favor, the newly appointed provinces by the latest conquests of your tyrant Emperor husband. It’s like walking on ice, simply existing by the wrathful Emperor’s side is hard but being his spouse is harder. Obligation masquerading as a relationship is mind-numbingly torturous. Your family’s assets frequently demanded of by the Emperor, your input occasionally over managing new conquests, and then the duties of the bedroom. Brutal, violent, hours dedicated to a man who feels so insecure and entitled that he must maintain the image of spiked pedestal of glorious victory on the privately and on the battlefield. Suddenly demanding you hold hands even in private and be honest when reporting your day.

“Baabbyy~! That mean advisor said I’d have to wait to see you while I sign these papers! Won’t you visit me!”

The one masquerading as your husband is doing a terrible job and it’s up to you to repair the damage done and steer the thing with your husband’s face the right way. Which means crafting a rumor about the Emperor having his mood lifted by the conquest of the surrounding kingdoms. That you advise the staff about mentioning ‘just how good of a mood the Emperor is in’ and postponing meetings with the conquered leaders for another month. Lastly you’ll have to put a wrangle on the one wearing your husband like a cheap suit. 

“I don’t know what you are but you’re not acting at all like my husband.”

“Awww~can’t I just be in a great mood?”

“Not when you need to invoke fear among the court. If you’re going to keep being him you need to know somethings. Vital things that won’t make you stand out.”

“Aaand this will not make others suspicious of me?”

“Yes.”

The creature that’s in his body is merciful. Something the Emperor would know nothing about. When you advise he execute the chef that served him something he’s allergic to, he sighs and whines. “Do I really have to?” “Ugh that means the execution ceremony’s gonna take even longer.”

So you’ll have to remind him that they did choose the “Emperor’s face. Which means all the annoying things that come with it.”

For their goofy and childish actions in private they adapt pretty quickly. Using his olive gaze as a tool as deadly as his sword in meetings. Threatening to crush towns based on minor discrepancies like he used to and even executed rebellious staff without the blink of an eye. 

Only in the privacy of your room does that change. Back to the relaxed, playful demeanor of the one who walks in the Emperor’s skin. Who delights in a play-by-play of your entire day and your expert assessment of the responses he made posing as the Emperor. Answering his many many many questions about the human race and the different customs. Always listening eagerly as you tiredly regale such simple truths before embracing the tug of sleep. 

“My spouse…”

“Yes.”

“There’s something else I’d like to ask you about…”

“What is it?”

“Marriage is a sacred vow…one we have with each other.”

“That’s correct.”

“Then why are there…concubines?”

It shakes the sleep off of you. The usually light tone of questioning about different sayings and court manners transitions into something sincere. Sitting up in bed you explain how an Emperor’s goal is to multiply, to make sure it will be their heir–their name that occupies all the Emperors and Empresses to come. They don’t jump to the next question…instead wrestling with the idea. 

“Then why don’t they just impregnate you multiple times? Why have others?”

“Better odds and I’m politically more powerful then the concubines. If any should be born it will be I who rules until they’re an adult.”

They don’t speak. Simply staring at the ceiling as the night burns on. It isn’t until morning where they’re not in bed and your maid informs you of something grim. One of the concubines your late husband’s favorite was missing and her room drenched in blood. It was a bizarre mystery for a concubine as guarded as she to be suspected as nothing more than a stain now. No one saw anything. No one heard anything. But that’s all that happens in a Emperor’s palace. Only when all the sleuths are stumped and the room cordoned off do you question him. Which you expect a clear resounding “no” or even a terrible attempt to lie.

“She attempted to…touch me.”

The pieces of a puzzle fit at their horrified revelation. She organized a private meeting, likely done in secret to meet the Emperor. Something not above the normal for her with the original Emperor. Attempted to advance as their routine dictated and instead offended something entirely non-human. Something with a dedication to their spouse stronger than any temporary pleasure.

“I’ve already promised myself to you…it’s blasphemy to let your spouse have another!”

When you do sleep with them—it it’s soft and idolizing. They touch you like a treasure and kiss over your scars with a reverence you’ve never felt. It’s now that you see the greatest change in character. 

With this doppelganger you are a gift. One that they prize above the Empire, actively telling you so through every kiss and grasp at your robe. In no time at all they offer to execute the other concubines and only at your beck and call do they not and it is only at your command do they even emulate your late husband in public.

Because the second they assumed the Emperor’s identity they were promised to you. And should you ask that they revert to their true-self and eliminate all. 

They would do just that.

“My poor poor child. I am so sorry it has come to this.”

King Narissus consolation was a minor comfort in the grand scheme of the situation. A wedding you never wanted to a prince who could not care less about you. It was turning out to be a truly dreadful affair. 

The prince’s lack of interest in you as a partner meant the wedding itself did not receive the attention it desperately needed. While you wouldn’t have wanted to plan the minor details of the wedding at the very least you could pretend to put some effort. Alas majority of the staff would not even look at you; whether it was in shame, jealousy, or just fear of what you’d do. So it was no use. 

The only person who would show you a modicum of decency was the Father of the groom—the King of Andalasia—on paper. The sorcerer king was known for his dark attractiveness a stark contrast from his boisterous son Eduardo. Who by his own strength and prowess with the sword had conquered and subdued a great many of the non-human population. It was common knowledge that the prince was determined to become the king. In multiple speeches he more or less implied just how far he’d go to gain the crown; even killing the subject of a rumor that spoke of a missing heir to the throne. 

He was ruthless.

The only one capable to stop him was King Narissus. Who by the rules of the Andalasia must step down from the crown should the Prince have the ultimate token of a man coming of age: marriage. It was only the unfortunate slaying of your adoptive troll family that led him to you—who just so happen to remind him about his final necessity for the role of the king. 

“This one will have to do.”

A kidnapping and an arranged marriage were interchangeable here and the only sympathy you’d gotten was from the King himself. He was the one who held you tight against his chest, adorned with a turtle neck halter with a keyhole opening that let you freely hear the heart beat of a kindhearted king. The one who wrapped you in his cape when the fabric of your wedding garments tore because they were of such cheap quality. The only one willing to redo your makeup when your tears began to make it run. 

“There there little one. Breathe.”

The instruction was much needed. The wedding ceremony had already commenced and all that was left was for the future partner of the King-to-be was to walk down the aisle. Of course Narissus had volunteered willing to wait with you out of sight of the fearful nobles and the great crowd of the citizens brave enough to attend. 

Looking into the deep expanse of the well you sat on, you fought the urge to throw up again. Instead imagining the sweet embrace of death if you let go of the stone barrier and fell with the peacefully flowing water into the depths below. Feeling your hand instinctively loosen it’s grip, you snapped your attention when you felt a force holding you back. 

“Be careful. This is more than an ordinary well. It is the gateway to a truly horrible place.”

A gateway. Why did that word intrigue you so much? You tilted your head with a silent question urging the king to give more. With an uninterested expression on his face you had to bat your eyes to get him to relent. 

“Fine. The portal opens to a place with no magic, no kingdoms. A cold place where the only  real monsters are human themselves. A place without logic, without protection. That is what it leads to. “

An escape. 

That’s why it felt good to hear about a world less like your own. No kingdoms meant no princes. The only monsters being human would create a perfect place for kind non-humans to thrive. A place without logic meant rules that neither you or the prince will have known. 

It was perfect. 

Renewed vigor allowed you to stand, ignoring the protests of the Narissus, you happily jumped into the well’s opening. Laughing the whole way you wished to do only one thing as the dark but lively world you were in began to fade away. 

“THANK YOU NARISSUS!” 

Worried you’d hit the bottom with an explosion of pain, you tightly shut your eyes. What you felt was not pain but the sweltering, suffocating feeling of water turning around you except you could breathe and it didn’t feel wet at all. The tickling sensations of something sprouting from your skin let you wiggle around as you tried to identify the feeling. In the midst of this unfamiliar sensation you opened your eyes looking to see a round spill of light—as though the flashing rays attempted to reach you. Reaching the tips of your fingers out to it, the light began to grow. Which lead to the heavy doorway that took all your strength to push against. 

When you did lift it the world where all your problems would disappear began to overwhelm you in all it’s glory. 

It was loud.

It was bright.

It was…

“HEY! GET OUTTA THE STREET FREAK!”

It was your new beginning. 

______________________________________________________________

Narissus was irritated. 

While he was still seated on the throne the angry pacing of his son did anything but calm him. The silken tunic the prince was wearing was full of tears and smudges of dirt; all evident by the tantrum of the man so fond of his sword. His knuckles, that should be kept pristine were bruised and bloodied–covered in someone else’s– were dangerously furling and unfurling. As though it wished to be clutched around his trusty sword. 

“Where did they go?!” 

The king refused to speak, maintaining his own anxiety under a calm guise. In a perfect world he’d be allowed to retire; to use his magic to search for the person he’d been caring for. Alas the prince wasn’t stupid and a certain rat had revealed far too much. Which meant the king was under interrogation. 

“I would not know.”

“That’s odd,” a chipper voice interrupted. “I thought you both were looking into the well together.”

The king didn’t bother to stifle his groan at the sight of the prince’s proclaimed best friend—Piper. A beast-human, who sported a head of incredibly red hair with a twitchy pair of ears to match. Wearing a typical gentleman’s attire, her biggest feature was the red bushy tail swirling around her. Despite originally being hired to work for the king she quickly aligned herself with the prince, apparently allured by the vapid and brute strength he exhibited. She was not feared like Eduardo but she was known to be wary of. Her motivation was as open as her behavior. Only motivated by fun. 

Narcissus was sure she considered this whole debacle…fun. 

“I’d bet this old bat shoved your lovely down the well. All so he could keep that lovely little crown on his head.”

Narissus slapped her furry hands away, watching as she exaggerated how wounded she was by hiding behind a now still Eduardo. The king sighed. Too much of his time had been wasted with this. He need to see (Y/n). Now. 

Narissus stood from his throne walking past the staring prince and furry minion with no regard for their questions. 

“I have already told you I did not care if you took the crown. For the record, I did not push them.”

Opening the golden gilded doors he only turned his head to address the prince before shutting it unceremoniously behind him. 

“I suggest finding someone new.”

With the doors closed behind Narissus he moved with purpose to reach the innermost catacombs of the castle where his lair presided. 

He need to see (Y/n) immediately.

Eduardo was miffed. 

His father was so used to lying to him he’d forgotten how little it worked on him now. The prince waited in the throne room, walking up the small steps to the throne. Letting his ungloved hands graze along the smoothed silver of Andalasia’s throne. Adorned with  maroon velvet cushions it looked as pristine as the picture books he was read to as a child. When he glided to the front of the throne he finally sat. Both grateful for his father’s willingness to let him sit in it during childhood and disdain for not being as possessive over it. 

“So do you believe the old man?”

The prince let his head rest on the back of his hand, languidely blinking his eyes in response. Piper took that as an answer, flicking her tail in amusement. Casually she sat on the arm of the throne laughing,“Heck I’d believe it if he locked them up in some dungeon of his!” 

Eduardo held the bridge of his nose, as though it would soothe what brewed beneath the troubled surface. Looking to the painting of his father on the vaulted ceiling above he let his eyes burn with frustration. He closed them, bringing his head down to stare at the double doors ahead. 

He had made his decision. 

“ACK-Hey,” Piper squealed as she was launched off the arm of the throne,”What’s your problem?!”

Eduardo didn’t answer. He only glared at the closed doors, replaying the degrading memory of his father’s backside–the resounding symbol of his father’s disrespect. The images played in his mind on a loop, recalling the same action all through out his life. 

He was sick of it. 

“Alert my guard, assemble my troupe, and get my hunting gear.”

Piper jumped at the monotone voice, shivering at the seriousness. It was terrifying. So exciting.

“Yes, my King!”

Scampering away the beast woman could barely contain her excitement for the hunt ahead. 

_____________________________________________________________

“That is not the right way to use a microwave!” 

The brown haired boy giggled shooing the family’s guest away as he watched them try to shove more wet towels into the small machine. The little boy, Morgan used the leftovers he planned to heat up to teach their confused guest–who by now was more like family. 

“I haven’t seen him this happy since the wedding,” Nash whispered to his husband Roger who was leaned against on the couch. At this point, they were pretending to get their work done while they watched their son and their unplanned guest bond over heating leftovers. Peeking over their shoulders and watching as they both chatter over the absurdity of it all. 

In a hushed tone Roger responded, “I almost don’t want to see them go…” 

The air around them grew heavy with the impending change of topic. All too quickly had their guest, who they took into their home—after lightly nudging them with their car– discovered the possibility of independence. Barely able to navigate the world with their limited knowledge they still managed to incur a hefty fortune with the sale of their clothes and their general expertise with the nearby vermin. For someone so confused they were faring extremely well, acclimating to the domestic side of their lives in return for their free stay and food. It was a bitter sweet revelation now that their guest kept bringing it up.

“Thank you for teaching me, Morgan.”

“No problem (Y/n)! As long as you teach me how to make the stray cats like me!”

“I’ll try but honestly they’re so finicky.”

Roger listened to the conversation between the duo as he ran his fingers through his matching auburn hair, tugging at the longer strands as he mentally battled himself. The double-edged sword of aiding in their guests' independence was already beginning to sting. Roger broke out of his trance at the light kiss on the edge of his lip. Looking at the perpetrator, he let himself smile. “Don’t worry about it now. Let’s just enjoy this.”

Roger agreed, following Nash who skipped over to the two in the kitchen. Waving around a flyer for a neighborhood banquet, he let his heart flutter as he watched all three of them smile at one another. 

He couldn’t ask for anything better. 

When the sun had set and after he finally convinced Morgan, he’d have just as much fun tomorrow he hurriedly made his way to the living room. Eager to return he barely recalled what the movie Nash and (Y/n) had picked together; snickering with one another about how Roger wouldn’t be able to refuse no matter how cheesy. Before he turned from the hallway that led to the living room, he stopped to hear the conversation that was being had. 

“--about to get married but I ran.”

“Can I ask why?”

“He was just…not a good person. Even if he was a prince. He terrified me.”

“....Did he hurt you?”

The hidden anger in Nash’s question had Roger tightening his fists. The thought of his newfound friend love shriveled in fear of some faceless no body made him sick. The silence from them was clear enough and it made his heart ache and his eyes sting. Nash must have felt it to because he could hear the light creaking of the couch as his husband moved in closer.

“We’re not going to let anyone hurt you. As long as you stick with us, okay?”

Roger agreed wholeheartedly. It was the words of his husband after all. He didn’t need anything more to plan a death sentence for the one who hurt his partners. 

He promised himself that. 

________________________________________________________

Narissus resisted the urge to dash his hand through the ball of water as it watched his future child-in-law snuggle up to another man. The image quivered as the magic was disturbed by the rage he was restraining. His fists began to flicker with green flames he relented, sending a fiery beam into the nearest rock formation at his side. The cave he was in began to quake, the layered rock groaning at the sheer force of the attack, threatening to melt at the cooling pool of magma where the rocks used to be. 

The king let out a calming breath bringing his ungloved palms to massage his temple. Reminded of his lines he turned away from the watery image, stopping at the silver gilded mirror. Fighting the urge to frown, he brought his fingers to smooth over the aging lines around his eye–pulling back the skin to watch it bounce back into it’s original shape. Seeing that the crows feet were not any larger than they usually were, he sighed in relief stalking back to the water ball that now showed (Y/n) sleeping against the chest of another man. 

He gritted his teeth, as he reached into the water to manipulate the ball. Making the ball grow to show the face of the two men who were still right by their side. He began his search for any identifying symbols in the room. 

Narissus was not jealous of the men who held his future child-in-law tight. He was not feeling contempt at the smiles he’d seen from them either. What he was upset about was the prospect that he wouldn’t be the one with the title of father-in-law. For as much as he hated his son there was one thing that his failure could give him. 

A true child that belonged to him. 

Granted it’d only be through marriage but he’d take it. Eduardo’s mother was not someone he wanted to remember and he had no interest in having to raise a toddler once again. But this—(Y/n) was perfect. How long was it that he had anyone cry into his chest or pull at his cape when he went to leave. It was wondrous. Much better than being glared at and openly plotted to be overthrown by. 

“These pests are ruining everything.”

Once again the watery ball warped on the couple that talked over (Y/n)’s head. It was sickening. He wasn’t ready for his newly adopted child to grow up! Not when he’d already decided it’d be he who’d take on the role as their father.

“I need to do something and it needs to be fast.”

Narissus turned to the locked cabinet on the otherside of his lair, a devious smile spreading across his face. With the snap of his fingers the lock was in shards and the glass doors were open, allowing the Socerer king to admire the array of potions he’d have to use. 

For a moment, he’d thought to do something hands-off like poisoning the food or drink of the men who’d stolen his child. But it was far too risky. There were two of them and the child only worked to complicate his plans further.

“If I’m going to do something I’m better off going to do it myself.”

____________________________________________________________

Eduardo felt the familiar sense of calm, that his morning lacked. The cooling sensation of warm blood on his face and tongue soothing his anger like water on burning coals. The steam of a won battle letting him finally breath again. 

The hassle of a failed wedding brought more stress than the prince ever thought he could feel. No matter of gossiping and groaning soldiers could articulate the disgruntlement with the whole concept. Alas Eduardo knew sacrifices were vital for any good ruler; and if that meant tying himself down then so be it. Having the crown of Andalasia on his head would beat any troublesome commitment he had to endure. 

“Sir, none of the peasants say they saw them.” 

But this was different. What should have been an hour snoozefest of vows being read became an hours long wait for the key to the crown. Now it was a hunt and the prince couldn’t be happier. Finally he could have the proper way to receive the throne—through bloodshed.

“Look boss, if it’s such a big deal you could just marry me and get it over with–”

He didn’t let her finish, grabbing the squirrel by the hilt of her tail flinging her into the burning asphalt that the metal beasts tread. The scraping of her skin and claws trying to set herself upright as she skidded down the street. Rolling painfully into the gathered kneeling peasants, knocking a few of them even further into the ground.

The whimpers coming from the girl added to the music of the crying peasants. The sound of the wailing blue and white metal beasts in the distance rapidly approaching adding to the symphony that played just for the future king of Andalasia. He relished in the growing height from the pile of corpses, majority filled with the fighters who thought they could defeat him with pellets of heat.

“Sire, I found a poster. After translating the foreign texts it seems there will be a royal banquet,” the guard handed the paper to the prince. Snatching the paper, he gathered the same truth as he eyed a pose couple dancing in a gown and suit. 

He snickers to himself.

What a perfect stage to conquer Andalasia from and begin the charge on the new world as well. He hands the paper back to the knight, who already knows to map the area for their assault. Piper had risen and slinked back to the side of the king, her bruised lips smiling triumphantly alongside them as Eduardo declared their next move.”

“We’ll greet the howling metal beasts, tame them and head to this banquet. If I should know anything for a fact it’s my bridgroom will find themselves there.”

Holding his sword to the sky, a green beam shot into the sky breaking the clouds apart. The knights in awe began to shout and holler with a familiar bloodlust. Their hostages crying into the streets.

The only one exempt from the delightful beam of calamity was none other than the squirrel beast-kin, who for once wondered if what she was doing was right.

“Squirrel. Sniff them out,’ in the Prince’s hand was a handkerchief which had been used to dry tears days before.

Sullenly she zeroes in on the scent, pointing in the direction she’s been smelling since they arrived.

“Ensure that our guest of honor is coming. Otherwise it’s your tail.”

She didn’t need to be told twice.

_____________________________________________________________

“Please come with us! There’ll be dancing oh and hors d’oeuvres!” 

“I don’t know…afterall won’t Miles be lonely with you two dancing all night.”

“We got a babysitter for Miles the floor below us.”

“Floor below?”

“Technically it’s a daycare for all the kids which means until 10pm we’re free to party. All of us.”

The last thing you wanted to do was be reminded of the atmosphere you hoped to leave behind. The giant dresses, the stuffy suits, all things you were abruptly introduced to as the date of your marriage closed in. The hidden insults and snobby behaviors were too much for a ‘monster bumpkin’  like yourself. 

Though you figured if you eliminated all the specism, violence, and injustice run rampant that some would still fantasize about a time like that. Plus the pleading smiles of your incredibly gracious hosts, tugged at your heartstrings.

How ungrateful could you be?

“Okay…I’ll go!”

“YES!” “YAY I’ve got the perfect outfit just for you.”

You let Nash tug you into the master bedroom, sending a smile over your shoulder to Roger who was rolling his eyes playfully. 

You hope this will made him happy.

You hope going to this will assure them that you were ready for this.

Ready to move on.

Nash rambled through the evening over a light dinner and even while he draped the last bits of your ensemble onto your shoulders, endlessly gushing about the era. You appreciated how little you needed to say considering your convoluted feelings but Morgan’s grasp on your hand was grounding. 

Maybe you could sneak to the daycare later!

“(Y/n)! Are you looking? What do you think?”

Looking up at the mirror, it surprised you who you saw. This person’s cheeks were full like they’d never starved a day in their life. Eyes bright as the shimmering powder above their eyes, lashes long and curled. Beneath it all a toothy smile of painted lips.

“I…look…amazing.”

“Yeah you do. Now let’s go get Roger. Honestly he’s hopeless with this kind of thing.”

The bustle of piling into the car and arriving at the community center, didn’t damper your joy. While you still dreaded the idea of high human society, it’s beginning to dawn that this is a cheap fantastical mockery. Yes, the halls are decked in elaborate lights and an orchestra plays but the people in attendance are all a very different.

“Welcome the Esteemed Phillips-sons!”

Holding back a snicker at the introduction you let the pristinely dressed greeters open the doors for you. Keeping your arms linked with Nash and Roger the scene of this ball is like nothing you expected. The music that the orchestra (more like a tavern-worthy band) were playing a jaunty tune. Something Morgan would have demanded you dance a ‘tok-tok dance’ to. The guests were dressed in ball-gowns, suits, and elaborate costumes of all type of monsters. The organizer was sporting a spikey tail that bobbed along with him as he bounced to the music encouraging the newcomers–your illustrious party–to join the fun. So with no room to argue, Nash and Roger turned to form a small circle where you danced like you would back then. Like monsters.

“So is it as bad as you thought,” Roger yelled into your ear. You worriedly scanned his face. Did he know just how you felt?

“You don’t have to look so surprised I could tell you thought this was going to be like your old place.”

He took a look at the dancing crowded room , “Sorry to disappoint.”

“No disappointment here,” you tried to hold back your laughter as a ‘troll’ fought with Nash at the minimal buffet table. The latter threatening with a foam sword the announcer was offering. Roger chuckled along with you, turning to you with a smile.

“I’m happy then. Happy that you’re here.”

You basked in the glow of the night, in this high far from that day at the well. 

“Me too.”

This was perfect for you, you’re certain your parents would have agreed. Persecuted and killed for it they lived for peace among everyone…no matter who they were. While that might not ever be possible for the likes of Andalasia, you could find your slice of paradise here. 

______________________________________________________________

The night raged on with more lights, more music, and more alcohol. Their guests none the wiser to the true danger on a stormy night, closing in on the outside of the building. The community joyfully communed with one another; embracing the freedom typically robbed from them during the week. Completely unaware until the keyboardist’s playing became off.

The high pitch meant to drop the beat never falling, surpassed normalcy. The whole party turning to their muse of the night. Finding her slumped over the instrument, a dark liquid dripping off those ivory keys.

The eerily extended note was a foreboding contract as the crowd parts for the man who’s hand is still extended in a throwing motion. Dressed as nicely as any other party goer, a mistake is made by the organizer of the event.  Who marches over with the authority his face usually demands but alas dressed in his wife’s handmade costume—naturally it misses the mark. 

“HEY! What do you think your–” 

The man moves faster than many of attendees have witnessed in their lifetimes. Registering that the removed head of the dragon is not an empty helmet of a costume but a filled one that dashes the marble floors in another sticky puddle. It’s then that people begin to scream and the crowd dashes for the entrances, purposely avoiding the man who holds the bloodied sword. 

The crowd doesn’t get far out the entrance of the ball-room before more screams erupt as they are pushed back into room by knights who aren’t afraid to slice off limbs, as some of the fastest runners come to find. Shoved back into the room as it fills with nervous gasping, crying, and screaming; forcing the previously partying members to kneel as the Prince wipes the blood off his sword.

“To think,” he flings the handkerchief onto the head of a bowing man, “this place harbored monsters as repulsive as our own.”

Wordlessly instructed, his knights have found a mockery of a throne, easily maneuvering it onto the stage where the orchestra had fled.  The bloodied keyboardist complimenting Eduardo’s smiling visage as he sits atop his temporary throne, shining in the newly directed spot-light of the ball room. 

Casually inspecting the growing line of attendees that look like his betrothed, when he found his guards were no longer sifting through the whining guests. He rose to inspect them closely, going down the line pulling at the added extremities and makeup on all these different suspects.

“Hmm No.”

SCHLICK

“No.”

SLICE

“Never in a million years.”

SCHLICK

“Could be if I put them through a grinder. Throw this one off the roof.”

“WAIT WHAT!?!?! WAIT—” “Yes sir.”

The prince waits for the sound of metal being crashed into and the ringing car alarm before turning back to the crowd. Finding no semblance of the one he was looking for, the prince kicks one of the bodies of the possible candidates. 

“WHERE IS (Y/N)!?” 

Other than the smothered crying, no one said anything. Frightful eyes looking around as if your name was on a sign that they could point out. The prince looks past the crowd and his knights to the unusually stone–faced squirrel-beast. Leaning against the wall staring directly into the darkened glare of the prince.

“You tracked them here. Where are they?”

Piper didn’t bother cowering, standing her ground as the prince continues to pace his scowl fixed on her. 

“My nose doesn’t lie. (Y/n) is here.”

There’s a newfound nervousness among the crowd, the blame of this event once again on the name that no one knows. Their shifting eyes looking at the other shivering cowards as if they’re holding something secret. Are some of them unknowingly hiding the secret that would save them from the mounting corpses? 

The power of adrenaline is useful tool that keeps humans alive; the speed gifted to all in hopes that in a life or death situation that this human survives. No matter the time. No matter the place. No matter the morals.

“Didn’t the Philips take in a (Y/n)?”

The question echoes along the walls and the Prince turns to the woman who spoken up. She was dressed as a noble elf her corset top hanging absurdly low and her hair folded absurdly high. She looks in assurance among the crowd, spying the baker she knew fed you often and the neighbors who spread the gossip about you. Expecting to see the same frantic agreement, instead she finds that they’re glaring at her, their jaws dropped in horrified shock.

What was so wrong about this?

So wrong about not wanting to die for a client?

She was only a realtor!

“Care to tell me who these Philips are?”

Above her was the Prince’s pale shaded smile. The dark and towering man holding the hilt of his sword with a tight grip. Looking to the members of her community again, a plea for approval she found nothing but their turned faces in response. She fumbles, with their lack of support her willingness to give the answers she had gone. 

“I-i don’t remember.”

The smile he had has become a frown. His blue gaze trailing in the direction she’d stared a before. 

“Ah I see friends of yours demanding you keep your mouth shut.”

He brandishes his sword with a  euphoric reverence letting the silver blade shine in the faces of the crowd. So entranced by the light dancing along the sword, reactions are delayed when her date’s hand is stabbed with the sword.

“Will you even keep quiet with his life along the line?”

She screams along with the pained groans from the man she was just laughing with an hour before. This time she doesn’t look to her friends, she looks to the Prince. An air of conviction taking over her as she stood on her knees.

“The Philips did, t-there over there!”

She points to the buffet tables, where the knights pull at the drapings to reveal the couple previously hiding underneath. The knights don’t hesitate to separate the two dragging them both to the feet of a fuming prince. Nash and Roger have a hushed exchange while being dragged, something that has the former of the couple hanging his head. 

Thrown at the silver addled boots of the Prince. The crooked smile, twitches with a fury unknown to the hostages before.

“So they’ve not only run but became a harlot as well?” 

His cerulean eyes glowed with an angry sheen of green, a sting of magic tingling the tips of his gloved fingers. A direct response to the sight of the two men responsible for his missing fiancé.

“What a STRIKING DEVELOPMENT!”

______________________________________________________________

You didn’t even leave the stall fully before you heard the sound of coordinated clanking steps. The heralding of your family’s massacre repeated in the safe and fun hall this was meant to be. Alas the distant screams and the faint smell of metal on the air, made you cower. Brought back to that horrible day where you were none the wiser and you lost all who mattered to you. You couldn’t be still.

That was your mistake last time.

Waiting for the last of the knights to stop clambering up the stairs, you bolted down the hall. In the opposite end there is another exit, a stairwell meant to take you down through each level of the building. Hopefully leading to the one person you could save.  Morgan.

Down the first flight of steps you had no issues ready to swing down once more and peer through the door but you stopped at the sight of a little kid. It was a little boy hair as white as snow, eyes pink and puffy who was holding his bruised knees close to his chest. You stilled.

Did they already invade this floor!?

Is this the only survivor?

You crouched beside them, softening your expression, “Hey what are you doing out here all alone?”

The kid looks surprised at your presence, their crying halting to sniff and wipe their nose with their long sleeve. 

“T-the bad guys came…they took everyone–”

He was crying again, this time into your chest as you held him in a hug…just like you, he’d survived the atrocities of Prince Eduardo and will have to live with the memories for the rest of his life. Patting at his back is the least you could do, considering this trauma would never leave.

“Want to come with me, away from the badguys?”

You’d whispered more into his hair than his ear, expecting the rub of his chubby cheeks against your shoulders. He does so, his hands gripping onto you incredibly tight. His tiny nails digging groves into your arms. 

Lifting him up from the ground you moved to the door to the second floor, peeking out the door way. The glimpse you allow yourself shows a single knight in the door way, with one of the daycare’s assistants. 

Seeing as she wasn’t frantically darting her head there was only one. 

You could take him for sure.

Setting down the little boy, you wipe at his rosy cheeks and find your handkerchief to help him blow his nose. Giving his shoulders a tight squeeze, you crouch again. 

“Hey Bud, I think I can save our friends,” his eyes widen with hope,”but you’ll have to go down the stairs and wait for me okay? Can you do that?”

He chews at his lips, he pulls at his overall’s straps and gives you a nervous look.

“You can do this!”

He sighes and rubs at his face—something he must have picked up from an adult–he nods his head. 

“Great now just head down those stairs and—”

“Wait I need help–”

You wait to to see what other help he might need, upon closer inspection you estimated that he must’ve been shy of six years old. Inside you hoped he didn’t need help going to the bathroom but all your worries dissipated when he pointed at the cutely wrapped navy-blue bow tie wrapped on his collar.

Breathing a sigh of relief you waste no time pulling at the bow, prepping to just pull the fabric loose. As you pull the bow and search with your finger for the knot keeping it in place a small miniscule pinprick reaches your finger as you pull off the bow.

“...Ow…”

Inspecting the light dabble of blood on your index, you shake out of your stupor to pick up the now detached bow. Genius invention to create a simple pin instead of learning the very neat and intricate art of tying bow. Worried you’d been silent to long, you smile to the kid who’s beaming widely.

“Alright, just go down the steps I’ll be right there okay?”

“Okay!”

The sight of the little boy skipping down the steps filled you with pride. One saved, many more to go. You turned to stand, reaching for the handle of the door only to find your hand grasping at air. Your vision blurred as the singular handle turned into multiple and the legs that moved to make you stand were buckling in place. 

Stopping your harsh descent, you were able to catch yourself with your hands. The sight of the uncleaned concrete becoming all you could see as your blinking became slow. All too easily you began to drift into blackness. Sleep overtaking you faster than light as the world faded and your worries forcefully dissipated from your mind.

Oh dear, I’ve been cursed.

______________________________________________________________

She’d smelt you before she saw you. Excusing herself while the Prince began his interrogation, quietly following the scent she’d been tracking. If anyone asked she would deny from Andalasia and back that she wasn’t just distracting herself. Seeing the door of another stairwell swing close. 

Chalking it up to another knight covering their bases, she didn’t feel the need to rush. Taking her time to slowly walk before swinging open the door with no trouble at all. Letting her mind wander as the sounds of flesh being hit intensified. 

How many times had she bore witness to this same thing?

How many more times could she take?

From the beginning she’d been taught about the hatred for the different, for monsters. So she degraded and offered herself to the ones most powerful. First the King and now his son….his blood thirsty violent child. A sword prodigy and a decent magical understudy, he’s the prime heir for the throne. Everything of his was perfect, except that personality. 

Back then he wasn’t nearly so bold.

The crown so close to his clutches, must’ve given him a new buzz. He wasn’t as calculated as the King but he wasn’t anything to scoff at. Piper had bore witness to the Prince’s thirst for blood on the night of the troll massacre. The specific strategy Eduardo chose was meant to cause the most bloodshed. He’d chosen their nursery first, purposely holding the youngest hostage until the parents came to their defense. All too willingly dropping their weapons at the sight of their crying children and according to the Prince that was their mistake. Among the masses he’d found his future spouse, apparently clinging to the dead body of a troll. It was simple as seeing their face covered in their family’s blood and he made the decision.

Is it crazy that she thought it’d be her?!

Alas she was in another world, once again witnessing the death of innocents and the one she was hear for was curled at the bottom of the second flight of stairs. Piper jumped easily looking for any visible wound, turning them over. They didn’t stir and a quick whiff of a familiar magic signature told her everything she needed to know. She opted to carry them, more than strong enough to do so but she stopped.

What right do I have to even touch you?

An accomplice to your family’s genocide….

I…can’t do this much longer…

For now he her only goal was to stay alive and in order to do that she had to let the Prince know just who has arrived.

“Your majesty,” she’d burst through the door and turned the corner. Interrupting Eduardo’s kicking against one of the men he’d grabbed,”I found them! They’ve been cursed by–”

“I do not need you to herald my entrance, Piper.”

The voice echoed off the walls of the ballroom; guests and knights alike looking for it’s owner. The inexperienced would not have known that this disembodied voice did indeed come from a specific person bur Eduardo glared at the oppoostie end of the room at a miniscule shadow that had begun to flare.

In a burst of green flames a silhouette of the King in all his mystic glory stepped out of the fire. He’s dressed in his grand attire, a surprisingly neutral expression in comparison to his son who was furiously gripping his sword. 

“I can do a fine job on my own.” With a flick of his hand the flames disappear and not a fleck of ash remains in it’s wake. His mere presence commanding more for the crowd than anyone they experienced tonight. 

Eduardo snarls. “Father, I’m guessing you’re not here to help me rescue my spouse.”

“In the same way that this is a ‘rescue’ mission. I’ve simply come to congratulate you both.” 

His cold gaze inspects the captive crowd. His lips curl in disgust as he continues, “But now that you found them why don’t we return? I never took you to elope in such a dismal venue.”

The question of course is a layered proposal. An aim for peace. No more bloodshed. No more bodies. But such an option was equivalent with failure of the highest degree.

The prince smirked and then he laughed. A full belly-laugh, occasionally waving his sword about as he laughed. All to quickly he stopped. 

“I wasn’t a fan of the—what did you call it the ‘white swan’ theme for the wedding back home,” he casually stepped over Roger who had been still for quite a while. “In fact I’d much prefer to go with a more bold color.”

He held his sword in a firm grip. A serious grip, absent in the beginning of the night now directed with his blade pointed at his father. A manic smile spreading on his face as his sword burned with it’s own evergreen hue. 

“I was thinking RED!”

A blast of magic shot from his blade into the direction of the defenseless King. Blinding all with the light of that overwhelming power. Only when the beam fizzled out and the Prince huffed in triumph could their audience just who truly had the upper hand in battle. 

“Honestly I thought I taught you to have better aim then that.”

The King laughed to himself, standing a step to the side of the previous beam. The wall out in the hall sporting a precisely cut out circle. 

The King held his hand up, a mocking smile on his face.

“Now it’s my turn.”

The King’s own demonstration of magical power is much wilder, minor beams zigzagging out to zap at the lights surrounding. A new round of screams breaks out as the light heat that emanated from the Prince’s beam intensifies. For the hostages watching in awe, having never witnessed real magic, discovered that it’s existence awoken something within them all. An inherent fear of the wielder who smiled gleefully as the Prince buckled under the force of the beam. Overpowering all their senses they choose to take their chances with the knights standing above them. Standing they begin to run, pushing at others in the crowd and the knights awakening from their stupor to attempt to regain order.

“KILL THEM ALL!!”

The Prince’s demand has the guards attempting to stab at the frightful crowd, some getting nicked by their blind swinging. Simultaneously the knights that had been holding the seemingly catatonic Nash, were too slow to react to an attack that sent them falling to the floor. 

Nash had pulled away from the loosened grips of the guard, planting his hands to the ground while his legs kicked out in a perfect split. Flipping up right the friendly neighbor the community was used to was no more. A darkened scowl on his face as he jumped after the knights attempting to detain the crowd. 

As if summoned himself, Roger brings himself to stand nursing his stomach. He quickly scans his surroundings before running behind the Prince who was still projecting his beam into his father’s. 

With a flash of gold, Roger shouted before shooting a round into the Prince’s back, “YORK POLICE! Stand down!”

The Prince winced at the first bullet, turning around to glare at the man he was just kicking. 

“YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHO YOU’RE MESSING WITH!”

Eduardo musters a harder blast before dodging out of his father’s blast. Roger ducks out of the way; dodging certain death with a barrel roll. The prince pursues him with his sword swinging irrationally at the man. 

“I hope you’ve come to put a stop to this?”

Roger shouts to Narissus who’s hands glow in a valid threat, both of them shooting their respective weapons at an expertly dodging prince. 

“YOU ALL ARE MOCKING ME!!!”

“I plan to,” Narissus comes to guard the back of Roger. The both of them coordinating their attacks to weaken their sword-wielding adversary.”I’ll also be taking (Y/n) home.”

Roger reloads his gun and shoots, grazing Eduardo’s cheek. In response Eduardo chucked the sword just beside his ear,“Yeah we’ll have to put a pin in that. If you mind, would you do the beam thing on my count.”

“If you have a plan.”

“Great Nash could you–”

By now most of the crowd was safely exited save for the few, too stunned to watch. Among them was the realtor who Nash had grabbed her by the arm, stopping to look at his partner with that dark glare of his.

“Distraction…please love?”

Without a word, Nash grabs the woman holding her high and throwing her into the Prince. Making him fall along with her to the ground. Already sensing the plan Nash uses an unconscious guard as a shield.

“Now!”

Taking advantage of his predicament the King shot forth another powerful beam. Countered by the Prince’s own once again they engage in the same magical grand-standing that they were doing before.

“I was so caught up on the idea that they’d be my child through marriage, I failed to think about how I can just adopt them in atonement for all of your blind massacres.”

Narissus released one hand from the beam to shoot an electrical bolt into his son’s side, incurring the bloodied prince’s scream. Using magic to throw the woman into his father’s face, the prince was finally able to stand. 

Seeing that Roger was already aiming with his gun, Eduardo thunk fast.“How cruel father, I thought you wanted to attend my wedding. You won’t be able to come back once your dead.”

In a flurry of green flames the Prince was engulfed similarly like his father before; within the flames his silhouette morphed into something much larger. A thorned and clawed beast likened to a dragon known in fairytales. No longer able to speak the dragon growled a roar that shook the entire building. 

“Do you have enough bullets to kill him.”

“Only if I can get there.”

“Good. Have you ever used a slingshot?”

“I get the picture. Let’s end this shall we?”

“We shall!”

______________________________________________________________

When you awoke there was a boy above you, tears in his eyes dribbling on your face. 

“M-morgan?”

The name brought the boy to more tears as he buried himself within your chest, his tears wetting your elegant wear. In the back of your mind, you figured you’ll have to apologize to Nash. Instinctually you moved to wrap your arms around him, finding the action to be much harder than you thought. Still you rubbed circles into his back the best you could, using his help to sit up. 

The sound of the building rumbling with some unseen force and dust of concrete falling from the ceiling rekindled your urgency. Pulling away from the boy you held him tight as you questioned him.

“Where are the other kids? Did you guys escape the knights?”

“There was only one and the teacher, tazed him. But she evacuated everyone when we heard the first blast.”

“First blast?!”

As if the building heard it rumbled and creaked with emphasis. The sprinkles of dust turning into mini-falls as the stress on the building intensifies. You didn’t have to have lived in this world long enough to know the infrastructure of a community building was likely not going to hold or at least the floor beneath the chaos that was unfolding upstairs. Fighting the urge to lay back down you hold onto Matthew as you struggle to stand, guiding him the best you can down the stairs and out the building, joining the crowd looking in awe at the top of the building. 

Once you find a place to sit, across the street you finally look up in the direction that everyone’s been unable to take their eyes off of. When you looked a Dragon curled around the entire circumference of the building. Snarling jaws snapping at the source of tiny figures you unfortunately recognized, actively battling this giant creature. 

“(Y/n) do you see Dad or Nash?”

In that moment you saw someone in a tattered shimmery outfit somersaulting high above a swiping dragon with the Prince’s sword. The reptilian howling as the blade embedded itself into his back, it’s user darting away from it’s incoming claws. 

“Uhhh I did but it looks like they’re a bit busy…do you still have your emergency phone? I think it’s best if we call Polish.”

“...You mean the police?”

“Yeah those guys.”

“But it’s my dad I don’t think we need—”

“Trust me, Morgan you’re going to want extra hands when wrangling Dragons…when they get upset it’s hard for anyone to calm them down.”

“Dragon? OMG WHAT THE ACTUAL FU–”

 All that was left to do was wait and get the story from whoever survived. Hopefully it was the people who cared for you so deeply up until this point.

Kofi → Here

Masterlist → Here

Commissions → Here

Imagine getting isekai’d into your latest hyperfixation: an otome game filled with charming characters going gaga for the player. Constant love triangles and a touch of magic, you’re leaping to finally enact some of the scenes you’ve spent hours replaying. Oh but who can forget! You’re not exactly alone.

“Ew what is this place? Why is it so sparkly.”

“This is the game I told you about! The one with all my new crushes!”

“Great. I’m just glad we didn’t get hit by a truck to get here.”

Your dear friend is along for the ride and you feel like this is just perfect! All that time you’ve spent raving over the different routes and your favorite moments; they’re familiar enough with the world. Still they let you lead getting all the way to the climax of the tutorial where all the candidates make an appearance. 

“We’ll be in the same study group. What’s your name again?”

You open your mouth. Prepared to embrace the introduction with the illusive Ice Prince himself you’ve dreamt about. But your voice is giving out and the pumping in your chest overwhelms you and when those golden eyes squint at you in rising scorn. There’s no way you can speak now.

“Uh they’re (Y/n) and I’m Emy. Nice to meet ya!”

Their easy nonchalant introduction is the start of an adventure and the end of your dream. Their persistent uncaring attitude towards events or the array of colorful personality traits in the battlier doesn’t phase a practiced extrovert such as they. Casually resembling the answers programmed for players to say and deviating at the perfect times. All so easily the whole lot of the love interests are so obviously head over heels for her in no time. 

Leaving you behind.

Competitions meant to improve teamwork are lead by Emy. Study topics are chosen by Emy. Hang out spaces are where Emy decides. What challenges the group takes on are ordained because Emy wants to. Sparring sessions are always with Emy.

Everything begins to be centered around Emy.

“Emy…you’re amazing.”

“You’ll be my greatest rival yet, Emy!”

“Chu chu Marry me Emy! I’m just kidding…unless?”

“I’ve never met anyone like you Emy!”

While you can’t bring yourself to hate Emy because at the end of the day it makes you happy that Emy is happy. It still hurts. It still makes your chest heavy when the group is already headed to the sparring arena without you. It still makes you eyes water when there’s no space at the lunch table for you. It still hurts when you’ll hear about something monumental that Emy did from someone else who’s spouting some legendary feat. 

It hurts that your bias, hears your name and still asks who.

And it still hurts when the friendliest of the group, asks that you switch seats so that they can be closer to her.

And it burns more than anything to not be able to talk to your friend like you used to.

“Hey Emy I was wondering–”

“Sorry I’m just so wiped out from the honors awards can we talk later.”

_____

“Emy did you understand the lesson?”

“Haha uhh sorry what did you say (Y/n)?”

“I was asking–”

“Haha okay your crazy. Uh ask the teacher or something I have to go!”

_______

“Emy…do you ever think about going home?”

“Hmmm no.”

“Really? Like never?”

“Nope I love it here.”

“Ah okay…”

It’s an interesting problem. Should you let yourself be consumed with guilt when you begin to wish you were in Emy’s place?  Is it main-character syndrome if you clearly never were? Is it bad that you want to go home now that you know this is nothing like the game you used to play? It all culminates into a new goal. 

One for you to return home. 

So instead of walking alone at the back of the group; you confine yourself to the library or the study with one purpose. Nose deep in books and scrolls you desperately search for a lead. Some way that you can return back to the world you know. Back to where you weren’t just a side character fading in the background. 

“Oi rainy parade! What are you doing?”

This interruption was brought by the low-tier villain. Temple was an adversary to the mc during the first competitions. Beaten easily and humiliated they fade into obscurity before leaving for good. But for whatever reason they’re standing above you, waiting for you to answer. Swallowing an exhausted sigh you try to brush them off; ignoring bullies was the best way to get them to go away. 

“Reading.” 

“Yeah but what are you reading?”

“Just research…do you need something?”

“Yeah, join our group!”

Its then you’re acutely aware of who’s walking up behind him, stomach sinking when you realize precisely who they are. All of them are minor to major villains within the otome game with varying degrees of just beating mc to encapsulating the world in dark magic. So you weren’t exactly thrilled to see them all on board with you, specifically.

“Look if this is about revenge against Emy I’m not interested.”

“Revenge on who, now?” It was Starle, a known glutton that acted as the apathetic competitor. Currently crunching on some crackers, you tried to recall if that arc had even occurred yet. Coming up with blanks because you were so out of the loop when it came to Emy now…

Temple sighs and sits on the desk in front of you, forcing you to put the book down.

“Look if you’re talking about Emy I’m so over that I’m onto bigger things.”

“Like what kind?”

“The kind that can help you make a portal.”

Its Ryder Winsor, the aforementioned high-tier villain who’s well on their way to planning world domination by now. Only seeing him in passing you’re not only blown away by that outlandish statement but by the suaveness that the mc is built to fall prey to on a few occasions. Their smiles don’t assure you but your certain if anyone can beat them in the end it will be Emy…so in the meantime why not take advantage?

“Okay but anything too violent is completely off the table.”

“Deal. Welcome to our group (Y/n) we’re all so incredibly happy that you’re here.”

For once in a long time that doesn’t turn out to be a lie because now the time you’d quietly spend off to the side is filled with banter or one-sided ranting. Lunches spent alone are filled with very serious taste-testing of different snacks. Study sessions are now becoming unproductive because of all the time you spend laughing. Nights you spend lying awake waiting for the sun to come up are spent chatting about the mundane and the grandiose.

This what a real team feels like. What real friends are like. You almost forgot.

When you do remember to look over at the beaming Emy, you’re happy to say that nothing sparks guilt or envy. You’re happy too now and that’s enough for you.

What isn’t enough for Emy is when they’re caught off guard by one of their teacher’s praises, “Congratulations on getting that member out of your group! I think without them the power dynamics will finally even out.”

Whoa whoa a member left the group?!

Emy does a headcount at lunch, finding all the familiar smiling faces except for one. They shook their head as punishment for forgetting. (Y/n) had started sitting away from the group because it was so overcrowded at their favorite table….right? Is it bad that Emy can’t remember that conversation? So they scan the cafeteria looking over the students who admirably stared back at them to one of the few who weren’t. Lunches in one hand and arms linked with someone else that dastardly mean boy from the first magic competition—Temple. They remember that night you going over all the ins and outs of the world; so grateful back then that she had you on their team able to predict the exact sequence that they’d be attacked. Did they ever thank you for that? Either they look to see just who their chatting so animatedly with and it’s none other than you. Laughing almost loud enough over the din of the cafeteria, it dawns on Emy how it’s been awhile since they’ve seen it. Leaned on by another face you vaguely warned her about who does spare a glance in her direction before turning back to you. Maybe they’ll get your attention, since they have it so readily.

“Hey (Y/n)?! (Y/n)?!”

Calling out to you doesn’t work since you’re already out of the cafeteria on the way to wherever you’re going and the one that did see her doesn’t seem interested in passing along her message. Emy doesn’t take it to heart finally answering the concerned members of her battlier, her friends about what was on her mind.

“Did you know (Y/n), left?”

“Who’s that—OW!”

“That’s the one that tags along with our group alot, right?”

“I was aware when the teacher gave me their final resignation to sign, why?”

Emy’s face heats uncontrollably, how did they miss this? Shaking it off they move on, settling their nerves with the fact that they’ll catch you later. After all a change in party doesn’t mean a change in class.

“Oh no (Y/n) transferred out of this class a week ago. They moved up to advanced ancient magics to match their battlier. Why, would you like to go there as well?”

“N-n-no I’m just checking. Thank you, Professor.”

They shake it off again, they are dormmates so Emy has nothing to worry about. Granted in the past they’re usually so tired, they can manage to stay up to have this conversation. Tonight she’ll get to the bottom of your sudden absence. 

She waits diligently, constantly looking to the door and perking up when others footsteps pass by the door. Eventually with coursework done and the moon high in the sky they pace as they wait for you to come. Finally the lock to the door jiggles and behind it unfamiliar laughter…wait who is that?+

The door opens to reveal you and behind you the Scorpion twins. Another pair of handsome faces you warned her against and at one point raved about your mixed feelings about them. Why were the casually poking at you and then grabbing your stuff and leaving? Wait a minute your side of the room is incredibly barren when did that happen?

“Uh hi I didn’t know you were having friends over…”

“Oh we’re not staying we just came to get the last of their stuff!”

“Yup because someone apparently doesn’t like being bed buddies with me anymore!”

“I never said that! I just miss my bed and it beats going back and forth.”

“Y’know I really think you should’ve taken Winsor’s advice and just bought all this stuff again.”

“Don’t cry about it they’re just sentimental keepsakes, not because of any other reason.”

Emy doesn’t miss the grey eyed glare they both give her.

“(Y/n) can I talk to you…alone?”

You huff clearly annoyed, “I’d rather not, besides they’re going in and out of the room anyway. Just say what you want to say.”

Emy resists the urge to roll their eyes at your difficulty but still they confront you. Ask about why you left and what you’re doing hanging out with those guys—the villains you warned her about. You surprise her with a broken look on your face, “You really don’t know?”

Emy can do nothing but shrug as she tries to rack her brain for some reason. Finding none she expectantly waits for you to tell her. Just like back then. You refuse to do this again.

“You know what…they’re my friends and they’re helping me out with something important to me.”

“Wait what’s important to you?”

“....Goodbye Emy, Rogue I’m ready to go. For good.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice we finished ages ago.”

When Emy stares at your back and then the shutting of the door then to the empty side of the room, she feels as though a new hole has been made. She figures that's just in this moment when she doesn’t have anyone else shuffling in the room tonight. That it’s just in the moment when she’s in sparring and she can’t help but take more hits then necessary without you on her back. That’s its just in the moment that she’s overcome with disgust when you’re up on the podium with the Winsor’s crest on your newly fitted uniform. That’s just a coincidence that as she watches you hug the members of the team before giving a speech that she’s overcome with a hatred for the smug teammates of yours.

Who is she kidding?

Emy hates this.

That somehow you’d find comfort in the very people who were shaping up to be her worst enemies yet. That you looked happy getting your personal bubble invaded by these overly touchy villains. That you no longer looked in her direction when you passed in the halls.

She was just so angry. At you? At herself? At them?

Even her own team had begun to notice. Asking why she hadn’t dodged something so simple or why she’d been blankly staring at the door of the study room while they tried to talk. Trying to follow her gaze when she slowed in the hall. 

“Emy….did they do something to you we don’t know about.”

“What about that one? Their new member…WAIT isn’t that our old–”

“So it’s them. What did they do to you Emy you can tell us.”

She struggles with what to say. Looking in the eyes of the future heroes and leaders of this world. Their magic and beauty palpitating endlessly at her beck and call. What dare she say to them? That she failed you? That she neglected her best friend? That she took advantage of the one person who knew what this world was all about? “That (Y/n) is being deceived by Winsor’s battlier? And if we don’t intercept soon they’re going to be in bigger trouble than ever!”

Of course seeing their hero love of their life so passionate about something and having been right so many times before all they can do is rally behind. Beginning their plan of attack so that Emy can make amends save their friend who’s been led astray. Hopefully before its too late.

On the complete opposite side of the spectrum Winsor’s Battlier is more than enjoying their new member. Of course they figured as much after spending just as much time watching you before taking initiative in action. In truth after Temple’s defeat they all felt the need to monitor the group with the most potential. Analyzing each of their members with the upmost scrutiny all so that, they’d be prepared should they ever have to cross them again. But someone stood out in that group. More than the royalty….more than their dark mage…more than the shining star that had the whole school eating out the palm of her hand. 

You.

“Report everyone.”

“I witnessed that (Y/n)-fellow categorize and list the abilities of all their competitors.”

“I saw (Y/n) switch out that gift to the prince for something else.”

“(Y/n) was the one who solved the answer for the quiz the very day it was coming…it was 100 pages.”

“I saw (Y/n) kiss the University’s Dragon.”

“...”

“...”

“...what?”

It was clear to your newly avid stalkers that you were what gave the team such an easy start. Hearing you remind Emy about the likes and dislikes of your team-members. Subtly hinting at the right answers during team events. Solving all the quizzes and tests meant to stump even the well educated. All to walk behind the group who barely remembers you exist. 

Even Starle felt bad watching you be ignored and pushed aside. That doesn’t immediately spark their desire to have you in their group, in fact more than happy that the team’s greatest asset just wasn’t realized. Allowing the twins to provide fairly decent obstacles that had Emy discredit you on more than one occasion. Feeling as though they maintained the silent upper hand over Emy’s team, they felt that their job to take down the group was done. Now they're stalking just for ‘fun’ at this point; chatting over study group about what injustice (Y/n) has gone through today.’

But Ryder wasn’t done. Rarely has he ever witnessed or read about a prophetic ability so inconsistent, yet terribly precise. So while the others are used to standing over roofs or abandoned attics to watch, Ryder goes a step further. Crafting a magical spy glass that he uses to watch your private activities. One of these activities meant transcribing all that you know about the villains to come. Imagine his surprise when, he reads that his failure will be at the hands of Emy all because she discovers an ancient magic technique to counter his magic. A tiny voice in his head suggests he permanently shut you up…find some way to silent your all-knowing machinations to a team bound to collapse on itself. But when he invokes invisibility raises his hand to hex you for good; hearing your sobs under the covers the magic naturally flickers away. A new spell dancing along his fingertips that put you into a deep sleep. When he stands above you with the covers pulled back he can’t help but laugh to himself in disbelief. Who was he kidding? To believe he hadn’t just wanted to get know more of you from the start, making up some excuse about your good advice so that his team would be none the wiser. All for them to fall for exactly what captivated him from the start. 

“So boss, do we get to have them?”

“Patience Starle dream magic doesn’t change a mind in one night.”

“In the meantime do we get to work on the other plan?”

“The world dominating one?”

“...Once our final member joins we can put everything into full swing.”

“That Emy-chic will be the first to go, right?”

“Correct. Because a coward such as they has no place in our new world.”