i don't think i posted doodles of Sundown Summer's loyal steed! he's a starry appaloosa. a... starpaloosa. constelloopa. appastella. he has a body count written in blood

Lost Princessa: Meet the Reaper 24

It's a short one. Like... I don't think I've ever posted a chapter this short. However, I'm just getting back in the saddle so you'll have to forgive me. I do have plenty more written. We're not done with Megan and Hank. It's about to get interesting.

Please don't copy my shit. This is the only place it's published. Don't translate it. Don't steal it. Don't copy it. I'm just getting it back. Don't piss me off now.

Warnings: Fluff. I don't even think I cuss in this part. It's just a bit of filler.

A short while later, Taza chuckled as he realized that it would be a tight fit for all of them in the Bronco. It was an older model and could only comfortably fit five. There were seven of them. 

Bishop sighed looking at the vehicle as he came to the same conclusion. “Shit.” He finished his cigarette in frustration.

Chibs laughed. “Well… tha’ lass is tiny, but tha’ rest of us ain’t.”

Angel shrugged. “I’ll sit in the back with the pooch. Put Shorty on someone’s lap though. With a seatbelt.”

Marcus nodded. “It’s fine Primo. It’s not a long ride.”

They piled in with Bishop driving and Marcus in the front. Taza took the middle seat in the back with Chibs and Hank against the doors. Megan sat in Hank’s lap and snuggled down so Taza could fasten the seat belt for them with a giggle.

“Comfy, Chica?” he asked with a chuckle.

“Mmmhmm.” She tucked her feet in between Taza and Hank’s legs and her head under Hank’s chin. Hank just grinned and pressed a kiss to her hair since Bishop had put her hat on the dash for her.

A short ride later, Bishop parked the truck on a side street near the center of the city of Santa Madre. “We’ll walk from here. Where are we meeting them in the market?” he asked Angel.

Angel checked the burner phone from his kutte pocket. “They’ll meet us near the church. We’re a little early though.”

“That’s alright. We can take Poquito shopping…” Marcus said grinning as Megan stuck her tongue out at him.

They wandered to the open square where an open air market was held continually. At the far end of the square a beautiful church stood. Megan could see the steeple from where they were. As they entered the square, the buildings blocked the warm sun causing the temperature to drop several degrees. Megan cuddled close to Hank’s side as he automatically wrapped an arm around her back to warm her. Megan hooked Rex’s leash to her belt loop to free up her hand and took a deep breath as they entered the crowd.

They browsed several stalls. Megan enjoyed looking through the different vendors. She grinned as she found small hand carved figures at one of them. A horse made of light wood caught her eye and she couldn’t help but show it to Taza. “Papa, look. It’s Rocket.”

Taza grinned at the flagged tail and flowing mane on the figure which looked to be in full gallop. “It does look like him.” He waved down the vendor and in quick Spanish bought the little horse. “There, Chica. Now you can take Rocket home with us.”

Hank chuckled as Megan tucked the little figure into her hoody pocket. She looked up at him with a smile. “What?”

“Nothing, mi reina. Just enjoying the market.” Hank pressed a kiss to the top of her hat and guided her to the next stall.

Bishop laughed and sidled up beside Taza to ask under his breath “So does she realize how much that thing cost?”

Taza shushed him. “Don’t even say it. She doesn’t know conversion rates and I’m enjoying it for a bit.”

Marcus laughed aloud at that. “If Poquito enjoys it - who cares?” He pointed to a stall further down the row. “Think she’d like another cowboy hat?”

Eventually all the men carried bags of things that they’d managed to point out to Megan. Even Chibs had a bag with a pin in the shape of a Celtic knot for her kutte and another to fasten shawls or rebozos with. 

Megan was staying close to Hank in the crowd and kept Rex’s leash short. She couldn’t help but notice - their group seemed to be drawing a lot of attention. That wasn’t exactly the best thing for a covert meeting with what actually qualified as international terrorists. Four men and a woman that she didn’t recognize kept popping up at stalls nearby. Something about them just bugged her.

Angel’s pocket beeped as Hank was buying Megan a bag of candy. “They’re here and ready to meet,” he said quietly to Marcus and Bishop. 

Bishop nodded. “We’ll head that way then.” He flagged Hank down as the big Mayan handed over the cash for Megan’s treat.

As a group, they all headed for the church. Megan noticed that the woman had moved to the balcony of a nearby house and the men kept getting closer as they started for the church. She didn’t like it. Adelita and another man waited on a side street as they got close.

“Luisa!” Megan said, smiling. “Imagine seeing you here. Papa and the tíos wanted to show me the market!” She stepped closer as if she and Adelita were just friends who happened to meet in town. “We had visitors from our overseas friends so they came along for the ride.”

Adelita paused, but then went along with Megan’s act. “Ah… Hola Megan. The market is always a great place to bring visitors.”

Hank glanced around to see several men who were paying too much attention to their meeting. He nodded at Taza to draw his attention to them as well. Somehow - despite not having the training - Megan had picked up that they had a tail before any of the men. Instead of drawing undue attention to it, she’d taken matters into her own hands. She smiled and popped up on tiptoe to kiss Hank’s cheek and whispered “They’ve been there this whole time, but close for about fifteen minutes.” He smiled a bit and nodded.

“Papa,” Megan smiled at him. “Can Luisa show me that carving we were talking about? The one in the church? It won’t take long…”

“Of course, Chica. Your tíos and I can wait. We’ll head home when you’re done-” Taza said as he subtly moved to put himself between Megan and the tails.

Angel looked confused, but kept his mouth shut, and the others trusted that Megan had a reason for suddenly acting like she and Adelita were childhood friends.

She handed Hank Rex’s leash reluctantly, but moved to link her good arm through Adelita’s and move towards the door of the church chattering away. To anyone nearby it looked like two friends wandering off for a moment. Adelita played along. 

Megan leaned close. “Are they L.O.?” she asked quietly, keeping a smile plastered on her face.

Luisa shook her head. “No. Not mine. We thought they were yours.” She made a show of smiling as they walked up the church steps. 

“Just the seven of us. Did you recognize any of them? Maybe as Galindo’s?” Megan asked. They paused for Luisa to cross herself like a good Catholic girl as they entered the sanctuary.

“Not any that I have seen.”

Megan nodded and followed Luisa to an alcove off the sanctuary where they could see everyone coming or going. “Then we have to assume…” 

“That they’re unfriendly,” Luisa agreed.

Megan nodded. “So - neither group knows who they really are. Do you want to continue with the meet, or should we try again later?”

“We should wait for the official meeting,” Luisa said quietly.

Megan nodded. “Agreed. We do, however, have our Irish connection in town. Is there any information that I can give him to help settle their minds? Even the name of the port they’d be shipping to?”

Luisa turned to face Megan and watched her face for a moment, then she nodded. “Ensenada is the port. We’ll work the rest out when we can. Your liaison - do you trust him?”

Megan snorted a bit. “Angel? For the most part. As long as he’s not too pissed off and not making any life changing decisions that affect me…”

Adelita nodded. “Good. I’ll set a meet with him to pass on more information.” She smiled. “You tend to draw attention with your escorts.”

That made Megan smile. “We are a bit conspicuous. We’ll send Angel to the meets for now with our prospect - his brother. EZ has a cooler head for strategy and a trained memory.”

“Good.” Adelita smiled. “We should get back. Only so much excuse we can use. When we part as friends, my man and I will lose any tail. We’ll contact you within twenty-four hours.”

Megan nodded. “Agreed.”

Adelita squeezed Megan’s good hand gently. “Be careful. Don’t push yourself too much.”

“You be careful too.”

The two women strolled out, just as they’d strolled in to the church and made a show of parting outside like best friends.

Megan struggled to keep up the act a bit once they were back with the men. She took a minute to fuss with Rex’s ears to compose herself. Cloak and dagger didn’t come easily to her.

“You good, Princessa?” Angel asked.

Megan smiled her Southern Belle smile. “All good, Angel. Just getting tired.”

“Well Poquito - let’s get you home then,” Bishop said. “You’ve had a long day.”

Once they were all piled back into the Bronco, Megan breathed a sigh of relief. 

“Alrigh’ now. Wha’ the fuck jus’ ‘appened?” Chibs asked.

Hank rubbed a hand down Megan’s spine and relieved the weight of her sling a bit. “Megan clocked that we were being followed to the meet point.”

Chibs’ eyebrows nearly hit his silver hairline. “How many?”

“At least four…” Bishop said. “After Megan started acting off, I caught sight of them.”

“Five,” Megan corrected. “There was a woman on the balcony of the square…”

“Who the hell…” Angel asked.

“Adelita didn’t know. She thought they might be ours.”

“Poquito, that cool head of yours just saved our asses. Again,” Bishop said, watching his mirrors for a tail. “Acting like you were just meeting Adelita for a chat… perfect.”

Taza and Marcus nodded. 

“Well, luckily, Adelita believed me that they weren’t ours. We pushed the meeting. She’s going to contact the burner within twenty-four hours for another meet.” Megan turned to look at Angel over the seat where he sat in the bed of the Bronco with Rex. “Angel - you’ll go meet ehr with EZ and be our go between for now.”

Marcus sighed. “Probably best. We have too many eyes on us.”

Chibs ran his ringed fingers through his silver hair. “Did she give you anything I can take back to the Kings? Anythin’ at all?”

“I got the port name. The L.O. control Ensenada port. That’s where the shipments will go. It’s all she’d give me under the circumstances.” Megan leaned her head onto Hank’s shoulder tiredly.

Chibs smiled gently at her over Taza. “Good Lass. That will help.” He reached over and patted her knee. “You look exhausted.”

Taza frowned. “Are you hurting, Chica? You haven’t had any pain relief since this morning.”

Hank immediately dug in his pocket for her pill bottle. “He’s right, Princessa. You shouldn’t let the pain get ahead of you.”

Megan smiled tiredly. “I’m okay. Just the adrenaline.” 

“And tension,” El Padrino said. “Take your pain meds, Poquito. We’ll be home soon.”

tags:

@jemmakates

@msjava1972

@drabbles-mc

@delightfulheroshoeflap

@xeniarocks

@iamthegraham

@oureternalbond

@lyly00

@camelia35

@anaeve

@tallrock35

My designs for the Glamrock animatronics. I mainly based them off in game models and signs with a few obvious design tweaks such as Chica not having earrings. I couldn't figure out how make them work to be honest.

Glamrock Freddy

So for the most part I stayed pretty close to his cannon design, I twitched his color pallet, gave him a vest, and a pair of pants. I also gave him paw pads and freckles. I also adjusted his eye color as well as gave him a tail. I also made the spikes on his bracelets blue. I also gave him a splotch of red hair.

Glamrock Bonnie

For Bonnie I mostly based him off the bowling alley signs. I made his shirt brighter, gave him a couple cyan blue earrings and gloves to match his hair. I also gave him shoulder pads to match the rest of the band along with the star on his face. I also gave him some freckles. I decided to make him a light indigo that's more towards purple. His eyes are a more magenta tone like his fnaf 1 counterpart. I later gave him a ponytail

Glamrock Chica

The biggest change with Chica was her lack of earrings and her hair color. I couldn't quite figure out how to make them work with this design. I made Chica's hair and bangs pink to match an actual chicken's comb. I changed her outfit ever so slightly. I made her bottoms into a skirt and added a lighter pink star to her skirt and a lighter pink lightning bolt to her top. I made her under shirt and her shorts black. I made her gloved a little longer. I gave her a tail as well.

Glamrock Foxy

I based his design mostly off the pirate's adventures poster. I made his coat a bluish green and gave him darker red markings while making him a more reddish orange in color. Foxy is the main attendant at kid's cove, I gave him a poet shirt and a cork on his hook. I made his eye patch brown with a yellow star on it and gave him a tail along with freckles. I kept his design pretty simple.

Monty Gator

Monty's design was tweaked quite a bit here. I gave him a spiked color, fingerless gloves, a vest, and a new pair of pants. I leaned into a more punk design with Monty, I made his tail two solid colors since the stripes made him look too much like a generic lizard to me. I might add in some stripes later on. I turned his Mohawk into scutes that start at his head and go down his back and tail. I made his feet the same yellow green as his the lower parts of his legs. I gave him purple toenail polish.

Roxanne Wolf

For Roxy I made her a bluish purple gray tone, I made her hair into a ponytail and kept the green streak in her hair. I made her gave her a mostly see through under shirt and gave her actual shorts. I made her loop earrings into bar studs and leaned into her being a racer. I made her eyes more of an orangish yellow tone. I also made her a custom racing jacket and made her nail polish purple.

Sundrop

I made Sun more circus themed outfit wise. I made the gold stripes more of an orange yellow tone, I gave him ruffles on his pant legs, waist, and collar. He still has bells on his wrists and he has blue eyes from his poster in the pizzaplex. I made him into a circus lion since he gives me circus lion vibes.

Moondrop

Moon is based off a white lion for the most part. I made the stripes on his shirt silver and made his clothes mostly a midnight bluish purple while the stars, ruffles, and hat brim yellow. I gave him a little mane tuff and pawpads like Sun.

Dj Music Man

I leaned into the spider aspects of his design. I changed his top hat into a baseball cap, gave him some blue and pink face markings, eight legs, and a pair of sunglasses. I made his eyes a blue pink gradient and gave him a bandanna. His headphones are the same.

The last image is the complete design line up for the animatronics

We have a new citizen in Mount Phoenix:

           Rune Suwannee, a 21 year old daughter of Bastet.            She is a vet and the owner of Stop&Paws.

FC NAME/GROUP: View Benyapa/Actress CHARACTER NAME: Rune Suwannee AGE/DATE OF BIRTH: 21/ January 23rd, 2003 PLACE OF BIRTH: Bangkok, Thailand OCCUPATION: Owner and Veterinarian at Stop&Paws HEIGHT: 5’6” (172 cm) WEIGHT: 99 lb (45 kg) DEFINING FEATURES: Rune has white cat ears and a white tail with the distinct nature of a Khao Manee cat. Along with the ears and tail, she has two very distinctly different colored eyes. Also a trait of the Khao Manee cat. Her left eye is a shade of green-gold, while the right is a calm blue. She has no tattoos or scars, she doesn’t pierce her ears, and her only other distinguishing trait is that she always has a somewhat ragged scrap of cloth tied around her right wrist like a bandanna. This is something she always wears.

PERSONALITY: Rune can be serious and stubborn but will have her playful moments as well. Sometimes it might be difficult to tell what she’s thinking but soon enough you’ll know her thoughts on something if she decides she wants to speak up about them. Rune can sometimes have a bit of a rough nature to begin with if she starts off on the wrong foot with someone. But, she’s not one to refuse to listen and hear someone out if they realize they did something wrong and choose to try and clarify or fix it rather than letting it fester. She can be affectionate to her friends when she wants to be and even more so with family. Though sometimes her feline nature might drive her to want some time alone. All in all, she’s level headed and understanding even though she can be a bit stubborn when she has a strong opinion about something.

HISTORY: Rune’s origin was a unique one. A rare twist of chance and happenstance where an oddly attractive man with a wife and a few children went on a business trip to Africa and caught the attention of a certain feline goddess while finding entertainment in an Egyptian Bar. Months later, that same goddess tracked the man across the ocean to Thailand where she gifted him with the child he had a hand in creating. This caused a bit of a panic for the man, he couldn’t just get rid of the child given the fact he’d received her from a goddess but he couldn’t keep her either. 

Thus he turned to a somewhat estranged cousin. 

They disagreed on many things but there’s one thing the man could trust when it came to his cousin, and that was the fact that they could keep a secret and could be trusted well enough with a child that could cause issues for his current family situation. With that aspect in mind, the man sent his newly received daughter off to this estranged cousin, having her grow up away from his family. 

Soon enough, the strange child was on her way from Bangkok to Chanthaburi… where Rune’s story fully began.

Life growing up wasn’t difficult for Rune, it was a bit… different than most given her feline features made it hard for her to legitimately go to school. Especially at the beginning when she was old enough to at least start primary school. Rather than send her off to a place where something as simple as losing her hat could cause questions… Rune’s guardian instead registered their home for homeschooling. She learned a lot, carefully kept on task with gentle guidance and a room where distractions were limited. (Her feline nature had made it hard at first but a solution was found quickly enough.)

Rune didn’t know a lot about her origin, her guardian had explained that while they were not her actual parent… they were related to them. Their values differed a lot and there would be no visits from her actual parent, but she had been given one thing as a reminder. Apparently just before she’d been sent to live with her guardian, she had grasped a blanket from the floor and gotten wrapped up in it. 

A small little thing, but it smelled nice(floral and sweet) and kept her comforted while traveling.

Over time, Rune grew up happy. She even gained a little bit of private knowledge, sometimes her guardian would get a phone call and though the conversation was always quiet… her sensitive hearing picked up little fragments of a male’s voice asking questions. She never heard her name spoken but it was clear her guardian and the man were talking about her. It wasn’t often, but it still gave her a little boost in the day whenever it happened.

Eventually, Rune decided to enter a faculty based around veterinary medicine once she’d graduated from her homeschooling. She’d always been curious and interested in the biology of animals and had thought that learning how to treat them could be helpful to her as well.

After a while though, Rune felt like something was missing. She liked her life and lived it well but she always felt just a bit… out of place. Like she didn’t fully belong. It was at that point where she heard of a place… a mysterious place where she might just find a life where she could feel like she belonged. She said goodbye to her guardian, thanked them for the years they took care of her and went off on her way to Mount Phoenix.

PANTHEON: Egyptian CHILD OF: Bastet POWERS: 

Agility, speed, and dexterity of a feline. 

Enhanced senses of smell, hearing and sight.

STRENGTHS: 

Understanding

Determined

Kind

WEAKNESSES: 

Stubborn

Willful

Opinionated

Remembering the Perfect Apple Pear-ents

The sound of hooves smacking against the trunks of apple trees softly echoed across Sweet Apple Acres, the family farm. With steady strength and skill, the orange pony’s back hooves shook the trees as red ripe apples fell gracefully into the round wooden bucket underneath the tree’s branches. Though the morning sun shone hot and bright, the hard-working pony kept doing her job until all the wooden buckets were full of fresh apples.

 “Whew-wee,” Applejack sighed in her southern accent as she rested for a bit under a tree. “Haven’t bucked trees like this in a while. Her blonde mane of hair and her tail were done in the usual ponytails, her brown cowboy hat resting atop her head. Three red apples on her orange flank made up her cutie mark. White freckles were near her large green eyes, which calmly observed the surrounding land. Several red and white birds chirped happily as they flew across the sky and disappeared into the trees.

 After her rest, Applejack stretched, gathered the buckets into a wooden cart, and got into a harness attached to it. She pulled the cart back toward the red barn and the pinkish red farmhouse that was her home. She passed under the green archway of red apples before stopping by the barn. Removing herself from the harness, she placed the buckets down on the ground.

 “Hey there, sis!” called a familiar voice.

 “Howdy there, Apple Bloom!” Applejack smiled when she saw her sister. After checking up on the corn in the fields, the young yellow pony bounded over to her older sister. She had a red mane, orange irises, a red tail, and a large pink bow in her hair. Her cutie mark was a shield with an apple symbol on it, the one similar to the cutie marks of her beloved filly friends Sweetie Belle and Scootalo. Apple Bloom helped Applejack move the buckets of apples into the barn.

 Applejack’s older brother, Big Mac was there, helping as well. He was a large red pony with an orange mane of short hair and a green apple cutie mark. He wore a thick brown yoke collar around his neck with two nails sticking out on the top. His green eyes were soft and gentle.

 “The corn’s lookin’ great for the harvest this year,” said Apple Bloom.

 “Yes indeed,” replied Applejack. “And I bet we’re gonna have a great a great apple cider season, thanks to all these apples!”

 “I’m so excited!” Apple Bloom added. “And I’m glad those Flim Flam Brothers won’t be there to mess things up!”

 “Eeyup,” Big Mac agreed. He hoisted the remaining buckets of apples and carried them inside. The family spent the rest of the afternoon cutting up the apples and using them to make apple cider. The cider was then stored in barrels.

 Back in the house, the light green grandmother pony Granny Smith rocked contently in her rocking chair in the small living room. She had a white mane of hair and a brown apple pie for her cutie mark.

 “Howdy Granny Smith!” Apple Bloom greeted. Applejack, Big Mac, and Apple Bloom came into the small homey kitchen as the sun set.

 “Great to see you dears as always,” Granny Smith said. “You got the apple cider finished for tomorrow?”

 “Eeyup,” Big Mac smiled.

 Big Mac handed her a mug, and she took a sip.

 “Mmmm!” she said, licking her lips. “This cider tastes just as good as I remember it!”

 Applejack and her siblings gave each other hoof high fives. “Excellent work everypony! Looks like we’re all set for the cider sale tomorrow,” said Applejack. “Now, who wants dinner?”

 “I do!” called Apple Bloom along with affirmations from Big Mac and Granny Smith.

 Applejack’s cheerful dog, Winona was brown and white. She wagged her tail and sat by her side as she began to make dinner. As the sky turned indigo, the meal was ready. Bales of fresh hay, apple stew, and apple pie were placed on the table. Winona barked with delight as Applejack fed her some dog food and a small piece of apple pie.

 After the ponies enjoyed a peaceful dinner with apple pie for dessert, Apple Bloom yawned.

 “I guess it’s getting close to your bedtime, sugarcube,” said Applejack.

 “Sis, I’m not completely tired,” said Apple Bloom. “Can’t I stay up longer?”

 “Nope,” said Big Mac.

 “Big Mac’s right,” added Granny Smith. “I think it’s high time we all get some shut-eye soon.”

 “All that hard work sure paid off,” said Applejack. “Plus, we got the sale tomorrow and you got school, Apple Bloom.”

 “I guess you’re right,” she said.

 “And Big Mac, aren’t you busy tomorrow, too?” asked Applejack.

 “Eeyup,” he said. “Sugar Belle and I have our honeymoon soon.”

 “I wish you the best of luck,” said Granny Smith.

 Big Mac smiled. “Thanks.”

 “Promise us you’ll visit again soon?” asked Apple Bloom.

 “Eeyup.”

 Big Mac noticed Granny Smith with a photo album nearby, with pictures of two ponies not seen as much. They gave each other a knowing look while also glancing over at Applejack and Apple Bloom. Applejack thought she saw a slight sadness in her brother’s eyes.

 Before long, Big Mac had gathered his things, waved a happy goodbye to his family, and left to see his wife.

 Apple Bloom left the kitchen and sighed after Big Mac left. “Things sure have changed fast around here. I’m gonna miss seeing Big Mac all the time.”

 “He’ll still be around,” said Applejack. “You know how our tight-knit family loves to stay close by.”

 “You ponies have grown up so fast,” Granny Smith mentioned with pride.

 “Indeed, they have,” said Applejack. “I remember last week, how we all defeated the Legion of Doom together. With Twilight and the students leading us, Equestria was thankfully saved.”

 “Yeah!” said Apple Bloom. “Remember Big Mac and Sugar Belle’s wedding? And that crazy apple monster Discord made?”

 Granny Smith nodded. “Their marriage was certainly beautiful. Especially under the apple-pear tree.”

 “And don’t forget our Apple Family Reunion, when we all worked together to fix the barn!” Apple Bloom chimed in.

 “Yes, indeed,” Applejack smiled as she glanced at the large Apple Family all posing in a photo in front of the barn.

 Applejack walked over and glanced out at the night sky from the open half door. For several minutes, she paused, looking intently at the stars.

 “I think I remember seeing two shooting stars not too long ago after that reunion,” Applejack mentioned. Stray tears fell from her eyes after several silent minutes. “They reminded me of them.”

 Apple Bloom felt sad, too. “I wish I had gotten to know my parents,” said Apple Bloom. The two walked over to Granny Smith, who was standing by a table with a photo album in front of her.

 Granny Smith held out a picture of the two pony parents. Bright Mac was a yellow stallion with a bright red mane, the same build as Big Mac. A brown cowboy hat sat on his head, the same hat Applejack always wore. His cutie mark was a cut up green apple. Next to him was a cream-colored mare with a curly orange mane, a curly orange tail in a braid and a yellow flower in her hair. Her cutie mark was a jar of honey. She was Pear Butter, Applejack’s mother. The picture showed Pear Butter playing the ukulele to a smiling Bright Mac on a picnic blanket.

 “I remember Bright Mac saying he named you Big Macintosh. And Pear Butter named you Applejack,” mentioned Granny Smith.

 “No family rivalries could stop their strong love for each other,” said Granny Smith. “They wanted to be together, but Grand Pear and I did not approve. That’s why they planted the apple-pear tree the night of their secret wedding. Pear Butter renounced her ties to the Apples after the wedding was discovered. The two of them left together, and soon enough, you, and your brother and sister were born.”

 “Oh Applejack, you look so cute in this one!” squealed Apple Bloom, pointing to a picture of an infant Applejack asleep in her mother’s hooves.

 “I’ll admit, I don’t remember much about them,” said Applejack. “It was a long time ago. I was just an infant and Big Mac was only a colt.”

 There were a few more old pictures in the album: Bright Mac giving his yoke to Big Mac and an infant Applejack riding on Pear Butter’s back.

 Applejack turned to Granny Smith. “Say, do you know what happened to them, exactly? Why they disappeared?”

 Granny looked off to the side, eyes downcast. She was silent for a minute. She sighed. “I wish I knew as much as you do. I do know they traveled a lot to gather apples and food. No one knows what happened to them. Some say they got lost in the woods. Others say they got sick with hay fever or got eaten by monsters in a swamp. Or maybe your mother died while giving birth to Apple Bloom.”

 “So, you’re saying that they’re…they’re…” Apple Bloom began.

 Granny Smith leaned in, after looking around cautiously. “Dead, yes.”

 “I had a bad feelin,’” Applejack mentioned.

 Granny Smith sniffed sadly and continued. “The last thing I remember was Bright Mac telling me Pear Butter had some kind of illness during her pregnancy. Bright Mac had some trouble moving around after a farm accident but wanted to be with his wife. Pear Butter’s condition got worse after giving birth to Apple Bloom, it was a hard childbirth for her. Thankfully Apple Bloom was a healthy infant. Bright Mac grew ill and depressed. That’s the last time anypony heard from them. Or at least us in particular.”

 Granny Smith sighed. “I…I was still kind of angry at Pear Butter and her father. I still wasn’t fully accepting of their union. I just let them go…I had no idea they wouldn’t come back. Back then, Big Mac was starting to tend the farm and filly Applejack was briefly with her Uncle Orange and Aunt Orange in Manehattan. By the time Applejack returned to Sweet Apple Acres and baby Apple Bloom was back at the farm with me…I knew something had happened to them.”

 Applejack’s eyes widened. “You… you feel bad because…you felt you couldn’t save them.”

 Granny nodded. “Grand Pear had no idea until it was too late. Out of reluctant respect, I told him the news after they had passed. Then he promptly told me that he never wanted to see my face again.”

 The ponies were silent.

 “It’s not your fault, Granny Smith,” Applejack said sympathetically, putting a gentle hoof on her shoulder. “Does Big Mac know about this?”

 “I told him yesterday in private,” Granny admitted. “Big Mac and all of you had a strong feeling that they were gone. I just…wanted to try and clear things up as much as I could.”

 “Thank you, Granny Smith,” said Apple Bloom.

 “That would explain the looks you gave each other earlier,” said Applejack.

 “He’ll be fine,” said Granny Smith. “He just needs some time with Sugar Belle and his family. After they were gone, I had to take care of you children in the meantime. I was much younger then,” she said. “Thankfully, Big Mac and Applejack were a huge help in tending the farm.”

 “So, our parents…don’t exist anymore?” Apple Bloom inquired.

 “I…uh…suppose they are among the stars watching over us,” Applejack guessed. “One pony talked of a mythical paradise called Elysium. Who knows? Nopony knows what happens after our bodies die.”

 “It’s something everypony has to go through,” Granny Smith mentioned, “(Save for Celestia and Luna for thousands of years.) But strangely enough, it’s never talked about, not even in Ponyville. The citizens get along well most of the time but whenever that topic is brought up, everypony seems to avoid it.”

 “I’ve noticed that, too,” Applejack said. “It’s like we all want to remain happy and in harmony as much as we can. This town is a compassionate place but even we can’t escape the unknown…”  

 Granny Smith slouched back into her rocking chair, fatigue in her face. Her joints creaked and wrinkles lined her face. “Each day, it seems to get harder for me to move around. To use my strength like I used to. I could be gone at any time. I assure you though, we’re a strong family, we’re Apples to the Core. We stick together no matter where we go. Don’t worry too much about me, just keep on being the hard-working thriving ponies you are.”

 “Stop making me cry, Granny!” bawled Apple Bloom with a sob and a laugh. Applejack cried hard on the inside…but then it started to show on the outside.

 Granny Smith continued. “We may never know what exactly happened to your parents and my son, but providing some closure and getting some secrets out…it does feel comforting to finally get it out.”

 Without any words, Applejack and Apple Bloom hugged their grandmother, tears spilling out from their eyes.

 Big Mac came back through the door, glancing down at his bare neck.

 “Oops.”

 He was about to grab his yoke he had forgotten in the kitchen but stopped in his tracks. He walked toward his family and gave them a comforting hug. The sobs and hugs lasted for several minutes.

 They slowly separated. “Oh, Big Mac, you’re back,” said Apple Bloom, looking up.

 “Forgot my yoke,” he said.

 “Just remember, no matter what happened to them, or what anypony thinks, I like to think that Bright Mac and Pear Butter are always with us,” mentioned Granny Smith.

 “I can agree with that,” said Apple Bloom. Applejack and Big Mac nodded.

 Applejack turned to Apple Bloom. “It’s time for you to get to bed,” she said.

 Apple Bloom yawned again. “Okay,” she said. “Emotions make me exhausted.”

 “Eeyup,” agreed Big Mac, retrieving his yoke before waving goodbye.

 “Good night, Granny Smith,” called Applejack and she led Apple Bloom up the stairs to their bedrooms.

 “Good night, my sweet little ponies,” she replied.  

 They reached a bedroom window, which gave them a clear stunning view of the night sky.

 “Do you really think they are watching over us?” Apple Bloom asked.

 “I’m not totally sure,” Applejack answered. “But I think I told ya earlier, Apple Bloom, that if Mom and Dad were here, they’d be so proud of ya for getting your cutie mark.” She playfully ruffled her sister’s mane.

 Apple Bloom smiled and embraced her sister. “Aww, thanks, Applejack,” she smiled, tears down her face.

 The two ponies leaned against each other as they stared out the window. Not too far from the apple-pear tree were two gravestones with flowers nearby. Two shooting stars streaked brightly across the night sky, zooming near the moon.

Something had to be done about warden Ingo.

Not about his memories or returning him to his homeland, because as sorry they could feel for his situation they had no way of helping with either of those problems - something more manageable.

About his hair.

Since he had been rescued and allowed to stay in the Pearl Clan, his hair had started growing out. And it had kept growing out. And it had continued to do so. As hair does. Which would have not been a problem if the man showed any signs of noticing that it was growing out and that he thought perhaps he should have given it a trim to keep it in check from time to time, but the more days passed the less he seemed concerned with it - if he was even aware of the disaster on his head at all.

At first it had been containable: Lian could easily tie it into a Stantler's tail with a headband, and young girls braided it when it began reaching below his shoulders.

But the way it had been previously cut caused the growth to be irregular at best and positively chaotic at worst, and as it just kept getting longer and longer the other wardens had realized a plan of action was necessary to prevent the strange man from becoming almost unrecognizable from a sopping wet Zoroark halfway through a transformation and ending up hunted for sport by frightened locals. The haunted vacuous look in his eyes would have done nothing to help the situation.

Lian, again, offered himself to cut the horrendous amount of not particularly clean hair. He was denied permission, because he was seven. Yes, he was also the warden of the Noble with enormous axes for hands, but this was different.

Gaeric tried a different approach: he could easily visualize within that Burmy's nest that was the other man's hair the roots for a massive and totallh sick pompadour-mullet hairstyle the likes of which had never before been seen by humankind, and instead of letting it go to waste he decided to break the idea to the interested party.

The grey haired warden fiddled with the visor of his cap: "That would hinder the position of my hat," he argued.

His hot tempered colleague shrugged: "Well, it is just a hat. You can always take it off."

Ingo stared at him dead in the eyes with a gaze that could have frightened a Ghost Pokémon to death.

"Never suggest something like that ever again." he ordered cooly.

So Gaeric's idea was scrapped.

The second volunteer for a proper cutting was rather surprisingly Lady Sneasler - who, while armed with a sweet sentiment, also had enormous hooked claws that could have accidentally decapitated the man, and as such was very kindly informed that the much smaller hands of the humans she oversaw would have been just fine for the task and she did not need to bother herself with these kind of frivolous matters.

Nobody asked Irida. She was so very busy already being leader, and playing hairdresser for some guy was out of the question.

(Also she only knew one way to cut hair.)

Calaba tried to take up the task: they collectively sat Ingo down, she got the scissors in hand, aimed for the sideburns, and almost chopped off his ear.

Palina decided maybe it was better if she was the one to try. She had at least some experience, trimming Arcanine's fur.

Starting from roughly the height of Ingo's lower ribs as he remained blissfully unaware of anything happening to him behind the empty glaze of his eyes, she struggled for a little while; at last, a considerate amount of silvery strands was laying down at her feet and the horrid mane was beginning to be finally placed under a semblance of control. She sighed in relief as she kept snipping away at larger and larger chunks, rising slowly right above his shoulders until-

The warden paled: “Oh fuck,” she whispered to herself, mortified, as between her fingers she clutched a strand that was way too long.

-

Arezu did not expect a small procession of Pearl Clan members to show up at her door. Iscan being the one to lead it was also confusing.

“They, uh,” he began, bashful, “They need help with, uhm. Hair.”

She blinked. She looked behind the his shoulder: her eyes fell on Ingo.

“Oh,” she furrowed her brows in a grimace: “They sure do.”

She took the horrendously haired man and shoved him on a seat, twirling scissors in her hand. In five minutes, Palina’s mistake was fixed; in ten, Ingo’s face was once again visible; in fifteen, his sideburns were reduced from literal bushes back to their vaguely original shape; in twenty, at last, his goddamned hair was back in a short, acceptable shape, and his hat could sit back upon his finally cleaner head.

The contact snapped him out of his daze, and he looked down at himself.

His hand pointed to his cut hair: “Whose fur is that?”

Lian opened his mouth; seeing the look Palina shot him, he closed it again.

“That’s... That’s your hair,” Iscan explained.

Ingo looked at him and shook his much lighter head: “My hair is not that long.”

“It sure as hell isn’t now,” Cabala replied bitterly.

Centaur S/O

The 4 lords meet you for the first time

Lady D

To her you were the most majestic and beautiful creature she had laid her eyes on. You were strong all over, and tall, nearly nearing her height at 6 feet and 7 inches. You had (y/c/c) hair that was sleek and well kept. You kept your tail in similar style to your hair to match, but sometimes your "mane" and tail had flowers braided in thanks to the three girls. She adored the fact you would let them ride your back or pull them around with a small wagon. Thought she was amused how difficult it was for you to make way through the castle. One evening when the sun went down you took her to your favorite spot. It was an open field that was barren but had flowers here and there. The mixture with the moonlight and fireflies, it was a very romantic place. You loved showing how fast you could gallope, wowing her with your speed and raw horsepower. When settled you two would sit together, you letting her rest against your side as you put flowers in her hair. Courageous, beautiful, kind and a shining smile. The first time you let her ride on your back was quite silly, as she was scared she'd crush you. But you were more than confident that it'd be fine. She treated you like porcelain but reluctantly got on, and lone and behold you carried her like she was nothing but like a carriage. All in all, you were her perfect match.

Donna Beneviento

You awed her with your grace and agility. You loved to go around town jumping over obstacles or buying apples from the Duke. You wanted to go fast and fast you went, amazing her with your speed and you would race past her home and the castle. What truly set her emotions in motion was when she was out, on her way to Castle Dimitrescu. Half way there she witnessed you go toe to toe with some lycans, them holding blunt weapons and you a sword. When you reared and charged you fought quickly and harshly against them, kicking one and slicing the other. When they were good as down, you were about to ride off before noticing Donna and Angie. Angie advised Donna to run but instead she froze, not in fear but gawking at you. You saw her as no threat, quite the opposite really. Compared to your stature she was quite small. You offered her a hand and let her ride as you took her to the castle. From then on you stuck around and took her back and forth from home then to the castle.

Salvatore Moreau

He could've sworn you were a goddess when he saw you trudging through his territory, water up to half your legs, and having to jump some of the goop like hurdles, similar to a sport horse. Your power when you moved was extraordinary to him. He felt horrible that something as elegant as you have to tread through such conditions. But as you got closer to his hiding spot, the sun shown, emphasizing your coats color. When you had spotted him in his... not so secret hiding spot, you chuckled and waved, making his breath hitch in his throat. You approached and asked him where he lived. He nearly had a heart attack as he shakily pointed afar. You knelt and had him hop on as you trotted to his home lickity split. He was head over heels and you too were smitten by his shy demeanor. From then on you went on walks with him and watched movies.

Karl Heisenberg

He nearly shit himself when he saw you wondering through the forest. He thought he was seeing things until you locked eyes with him. You looked around then back to him, and trying to seem friendly, you gave him a smile with a nod. He hesitantly tipped his hat to you, unsure what to say or do. When you got closer he was speechless. You looked strong, and looked like you could easily trample him if you wanted to. But you were showing him a non-threatening aura, and it sparked interest. You started the conversation, like what's your name or how old are you. He answered and asked things back, where'd you come from, how are you real? You two laughed and walked together to his factory, and he showed you around. Well your presence riled up the lycans. One got too close behind you, and instinctively you kicked it, its body flopping to the floor. Instead of anger, he whistled. He had no reason for anger cause "y'never walk behind a horse." You two from then on would hang out, showing each other different skills in crafting.

No one asked for this and you’re getting it anyway

Some may not be familiar with them but Cadmium and Excalibur are from @dailyserperior, my pokeblog I haven’t updated for a multitude of reasons

but they are getting their own adventure. Idk if I will continue this or not but it’s just for fun.

(Althea [shaymin] belongs to my friend @sakuratenshi-art)

The former champion cracked her shoulders with a huff as they got out of the taxi. Yawning, she leaned on N as he paid the fare. He chuckled lowly and rubbed her shoulder, frowning at the temperature.

“It’s not Alola you know. Nimbasa is pretty cold this time of year. Do you want my jacket?” He asked as she grabbed their bag and pulled the pokeball from her waist to let Excalibur free. The Serperior yawned and rubbed his eye as they headed towards the subway.

“It’ll be warm in the station. I can handle cold shoulders until we get there.” Cadmium rolled her eyes, “You worry too much. I’m not like my sister, a little cold won’t do me any harm. I wonder how everyone’s been. Think Cher and Bia will be glad to see us?”

“I think they’ll be delighted we’ll all be breaking that oversized bed once we get back to the lab.” N laughed, “though do you really want to take THIS subway?” He asked with a scowl as they looked at the time tables, “this looks like Ingo’s line.” he scratched his beard as he thought about it.

“That could be fun. It’s been a while since we’ve been in Unova after all. Why not do a bit of Subway Warfare?” She winked at her partner as he rolled his eyes.

He grabbed a ball from his belt and threw it. Emilie shook his mane before resting his head on top of the green haired man. 

“I don’t really want to do a battle. I’ve been crammed in a ball all day.” Excalibur yawned and used his tail to cover his mouth, “I’m tired, can’t we just go home already?” he frowned, “I want to make sure Vivi watered herself properly and that Elaine got groomed.”

“Worry wart.” Emilie snorted as he walked ahead of the group to the platform, “I’ll just lead then you over grown---”

“Behave.” n snapped and sighed, “Stop fighting.”

“It’s not fighting, it’s a lover’s quarrel.” Emilie huffed as the train arrived. He snickered seeing the snake tense up.

“W-We are not lover’s you damn fox!” he hissed in retort, his husk flaring up as his ears flattened back. He huffed when Cadmium pet his side, a huff escaping the grass snake’s nose.

Hopping on she headed down the nearly empty train cars. She spotted a bright white coat and paused as she did. She checked the board in the train as she got closer, “Emmet? Isn’t this Ingo’s car?” she asked when the grinning man turned around.

“I Am Emmert And… It’s been rough.” he admitted, smile never leaving his face as he gave the trainer a hug as she opened her arms, “Been a long time since I’ve seen your faces on these rails.”

“We’ve been Unova for a couple years.” N hugged Emmet as well once Cadmium let go, “But we decided it was time to come home. He frowned as he saw the rings under the train enthusisit’s eyes. “Emmet, what’s wrong?”

“Ah well…” he sat down, “Haven’t you heard?”

“No?” Cadmium sat beside him and looked concern, “Emmet, this IS ingo’s car isn’t it…? Why are you managing Ingo’s spot? This is the single’s train.”

Emmet was quiet. He kept smiling but pulled the brim of his hat down as a tear slid down his cheek. Cadmium furrowed her brow and placed a hand on his back as he fought the tears.

“My brother is… gone…” his voice was quiet. A whisper as the train bounced on the tracks.

N crossed his arms, “Gone… as in…?”

“We…. It was late. He left his hat on the platform. I turned and when I looked back… my brother was gone. I’ve looked all over but I haven’t… Even Elesa hasn’t… she’s put the call out in her contacts too….” he covered his face as he cried, “I’ve managed both the single and double to keep my mind off it.”

“Em…” Cadmium kept her blue eyes on him and rubbed his back in small circles. She felt her chest aching for the man. She knew the feeling. While she had no twin with a bond as synchronized as Ingo and Emmet, she knew all too well the distress of losing a brother. She noticed the serperior as he chewed his tail, “Ex? What’s bugging you?”

“Gone? Poof? Sounds a bit too familiar.” He huffed, slithering across to bump Emmet’s face in his snakey attempt of comfort.

Cadmium blinked, Looking up at N as he also stared at the snake confused.

“The fallers. And Ultra beasts.” Excalibur explained, “Poof, right? Ask him again.” “Your snake is as friendly as ever.” the battle subway trainer pet the serperior.

“He’s worried.” Cadmium covered her mouth with her hand. She scowled, “N, change of plans.”

He sighed and smirked, “to the woods?” he asked.

“To the woods.”

--------

“ATEM!” Cadmium shrieked as she found the temple. She watched the man spurt tea all over, his white suit becoming stained. He groaned and grabbed a towel as the tea stains fizzled away. He turned to speak but felt his face being pressurized as the woman sent him flying.

“Oh. Hello Cadmium, Natural.” The shaymin sipped her tea as she saw the arceus as he pulled himself from the ground. He launched at Cadmium who sent a kick straight between his legs, “what do we owe the pleasure of physical assault…?”

“Has he been zapping anyone lately?” N asked, “and again, I’ve mentioned, N please, not Natural.” he chuckled as Emillie rested his head on his shoulder. “A friend in Nimbasa is gone, and when we were in Alola there were.. Strange holes.”

“Ah…” She frowned in thought and shook her head, “It wasn’t us, I can say that for sure!” she sipped on her tea, “We’ve been busy ourselves! A mismagius died and became a darkai! And his wife has no idea!!! It’s scandalous!”

“Eh?” n blinked, a bit confused but shook his head.

“Oh just news from our side.” She watched as the arceus dragged himself over and leaned on her lap with a whine.

“Thea! Make her stop! I didn’t do it! I’ve been with you for the past few months! I’ve behaved! I behaved!” Atem tried his best to give a pitiful expression. He shut his eyes when she rubbed his head.

“Oh of COURSE you behaved. That’s my big ol arceus after all.” She giggled and kissed his cheek, “So powerful and not making trouble. This time.”

“So if it wasn’t Atem then who would steal a train conductor?” Cadmium grunted as N tried to rub the dirt from her cheek. “And a bigger question, how do I get him back?”

Atem sighed, “It almost sounds like that stupid worm is up to shit again.” he admitted, “but I’m not positive. But how far are you willing to go?” He asked Cadmium directly, his eyes glimmering in a way she hadn’t seen before. Althea wasn’t slow to catch his train of thought and sighed.

She frowned and crossed her arms, “I’ve fought space and time, I’ve thrown hands with gods, I’ve had my body removed my consciousness. I think I can handle it.”

“The others will kick your ass.” She sipped her tea as the Arceus stood up. His form shimmered, the human guise fading as he stood proud and tall in the shrine. Althea set her tea down and shifted to her little hedgehog form and jumped up onto his back as he looked down at the two trainers.

“Be prepared.”

“Aren’t we always?” Cadmium gnashed her teeth, her eyes glinting and changing from blue to red, matching the pokemon before her. N stood firmly beside her, his gray eyes steeled.

“So be it.”

-------

“Ugh….” Cadmium groaned as they laid in the field. She moved to sit up and spat dirt out as she looked around. N shifted and shook his head, eyes spinning.

“That is not pleasant. At all. I do not like when he simply decides to THROW us.” the man groaned and ran his hands down his face. He looked to find his zoroark and saw him being helped by Excalibur who seemed to have gotten off least scathed by the arceus’s temporal shifting.

“So where are we?” The snake asked as he looked around, “this isn’t Unova. It’s not even Hoenn.”

“And my gps isn’t working.” Cadmium stood up and played with her phone, “service is unavailable. God DAMMIT ATEM!”

She looked at the rising sun and narrowed her reddened eyes, “well. I guess it’s the start of another adventure. Are you ready, Natural?” She teased the man who rolled his eyes. He dusted his hat off and stood firm beside her, pulling the brim down with a smile.

“It’s not our first.”

“And it’s not our last.”

“Now let’s face the future!” they shouted, before Cadmium sneezed.

“I told you you should have worn a jacket.”

“Shut up!”

the sun will rise again - mlp fic p2

part one contents: aj and big mac are like. 13 and 15. big mac realizes she is a trans woman, and is guided by applejack, but there is much more to it than just that lol. its also a little hard for her. sappy, feel-good, tough internal conflict but overall happy fic. paragraph one is previewed here, the rest is below the cut! disclaimer: there is no transphobia in this fic lmao im not gonna write abt horse transphobia. this is a feel good. but cw for fear of outing (note: i am aware my blog makes posts a little hard to read bc of a glitch, i am trying to fix it at the moment, i apologize D: i rec reading it on tumblr mobile or highlighting the words as you read, im sorry!) paragraph one: The wind whispered lovingly, cooling little Big Mac and Applejack's drowsy heads. A time like this in a young pony's life can be very confusing, something the two of them had grown to be very familiar with. Applejack rested his backside against the trunk of one of his family's old apple trees, if they had no where else to take solace, at least they had the orchard and each other's company, he thought. It felt nice, having this little secret kept safe by somepony you knew would protect it, and who still cared about you just the same. "If nopony accepts us, at least we have each other. I don't care if it's just you and me, Big Mac, we'll be jus' fine." Applejack stated in a soft voice, breaking the silence. He was accepting of his circumstances, no matter how they turned out. As long as him and his sister ended up okay. And again, he was sure they would. Big Mac smiled and folded her hooves neatly, "Eeyup."

-

Applejack worked his fluffy hooves through Big Mac's mane, doing his absolute best to make the fine ginger hair into a braid. He wanted to do something nice for his sister, something to celebrate her bravery and courage in realizing - and telling - Applejack, and he wanted her to feel nice in her own body, even if she couldn't change much right now, or for a while. No matter how small the act, Big Mac was especially grateful. Nobody had ever treated her like this, on purpose at least, like she was a mare. And every chance Applejack could sieze he would do just that, remind her that was what, *who* she was. "So, Big Mac, what do you reckon I call you now?" With that her eyes widened, and her brows furrowed, it caught her off guard. "Like...my name? I didn't know I could change my name..." she let out, slightly confused, a tender hoof raising to her chin as she thought hard. "Yeah!" AJ beamed, not straying from his tedious work. Big Mac, still lying down, started shuffling her hooves again. "Well... I always thought if I were a girl my name would be something pretty, which I mean, I am a girl and all, but I don't feel very pretty ever," she admitted disheartened. "You're plenty pretty! You're an Apple! You wouldn't say Ma or Granny wasn't pretty, would you?" Applejack pointed out, gesturing absentmindedly in the air with his hooves, then promptly returning back to his work, being sure to keep a steady hoof. "Well... Nope." Big Mac blurted awkwardly, pursing her lips. "But-" she began. "No 'but's'!" Applejack interjected, "You're an Apple, and a dang pretty one!" Applejack closed his eyes and lifted his head proudly, putting his non-dominant hoof against his puffed chest, "Look at me, I'm an Apple and I'd say I'm awful handsome, just like Pa!" he said with an endearing foal-like passion and certainty. He chuckled, his cheeks growing slightly cherry as he let out a tiny chuckle, and got back to his work, about a quarter way down the locks. Big Mac grinned slightly, "I suppose," and tapped her hooves together shyly, playing with the grass falling between them. "You know, I always did think my mane was a little long for a stallion," she laughed playfully, diverting from the subject and trying to reassure herself. She went to touch her mane, and was swiftly batted away by Applejack's quick hoof, "Nuh-uh Big Mac, I'm workin' here. Don't go touchin' it now," he said sternly but still non-maliciously. He just wanted it to look perfect for his big sister, he wanted her to be proud, and feel as pretty as she could. Applejack wanted to know how it felt to look pretty, too, but in the way he'd always dreamed of. He wondered often if he'd ever get the blessing of such a wonderful feeling. "Applejack, do you ever wish you were born a colt?" Big mac asked genuinely, still a little unsure of what Applejack was feeling, but knowing there was solidarity in it somewhere, she just had to understand it a little more. "Well - not really," Applejack spat out, his eyes looking away from his busy hooves, and quickly darting back to them before he drifted off in fantasy. He thought about it for a second, and still felt strange. "I wasn't really born a filly or a colt... or anything, I think, I was just born me. And I wouldn't really have it any other way. Sure, I mean, maybe I'd like shorter hair or somethin', or a uh," he struggled to find the words in his young foal vocabulary, "maybe if my nose was a little more colt-ish I'd be happy. But I think I'm pretty happy with me now. I do hope when I'm older my voice is a little better, though. I can't really do much though," he sighed dismissively. He continued, "I don't ever really feel too bad about who I am... I think I just feel happy about who I am. When I see myself as not a colt and not a filly, just a foal, a pony, it makes me real happy-like. But, I don't get too sad unless people are real serious about calling me a filly. I do get sad sometimes though, when I look too much like a filly to other people..." As Applejack placed an orchard blossom in Big Mac's hair, tucked snug and safe behind her ear, a thought went through Big Mac's head. "Applejack!" she jumped up, the rush of movement startling him, who was so concentrated seconds prior. "Let's give you a haircut! It'll be like how you braided my hair for me, we can cut yours!" Applejack nervously rubbed his elbow, then raising his hoof lightly beneath his muzzle, and he began to sweat. "Well, I, what if Ma and Pa don't like it?" Big Mac thought hard as Applejack grimaced, "Well, we can hide it with one of Pa's hats, an' I'm sure they won't mind," she suggested happily. Applejack considered briefly, just for a moment, the downsides of it all. He then immediately turned them all away and smiled so hard his eyes shut, stomping his front hooves against the ground up and down, "Okay, let's do it Big Mac!" As they galloped back to the barn, Applejack had suddenly realized he was so surprised with how much Big Mac had been talking, she never seemed so excited to talk about anything, and he realized how much this all meant to her. It meant a lot to him, too. Especially that his sister was so supportive while still knowing so little, but in her defense, he didn't know much either. It was a very special feeling, he thought to himself, very pleased. They skidded to a halt clumsily as they reached the doors to the barn. Foal-ishly peeking through the front windows, they realized it was only Granny and baby Bloom home, their parents must be out. They looked at each other, grinning, and cantered to the back, sneaking inside through the back door. When they made it to the bathroom, Applejack noted Big Mac looked a little worn out, wearing a tired look on her face. She figured all this chattiness probably made her sister a little exhausted. He shot a reassuring patended Sibling glance at her telling her all she needed to know, not needing words. Big Mac let out a gentle smile. She helped her little brother reach the cabinet above the sink, reaching the scissors that were so high up it took them both working together to reach. Applejack had a slight doubt in his mind, his parents probably didn't want him touching the scissors by himself, did they? But he had his big sister with him, and it had to be done! Nopony else would, and only they understood. Applejack balanced shakily with two hooves on Big Mac's back, warily reaching one back hoof up onto the sink, as he balanced with his two front hooves against the edge of the cabinet. He grasped the scissors between his teeth, and brashly jumped down, just barely missing a potential accident, even though they both knew better than to jump around with scissors, they threw caution to the wind regardless. Applejack happily put his front hooves on the rim of the sink, tapping them and bopping his little head, he looked at his big sister, who began working at his hair. Big Mac chopped with a great lack of care, playfully snipping one strand then the next. Applejack beamed the whole time, simply happy to have it happen, plan or not. Big Mac frequently spun around him, balancing on three hooves and sometimes getting in so close that she held his face with one hoof, his hair with another, and cut with the scissors firm in her mouth. Applejack's body relaxed completely and was kicking and rearing with every cut, wiggling and happily holding his front hooves together and constantly swishing his head from side to side to check how it looked, one side fell to his muzzle, and the other to his chin. He smiled bigger than ever before. With the final snip, Big Mac dropped the scissors carelessly to the tile below. She gently grasped Applejack's chin and turned her sibling's head forward to face the mirror, and his mouth immediately fell agape, his jaw slack, and his eyes slowly widening with the purest joy there ever was. He cupped his hooves to his mouth, removing them, turning his head to the side, and then fixing himself and putting his hooves to his open mouth once again. He felt a soft tug in his throat and his chest, and he couldn't control the watering in his eyes, "Big Mac!!" his voice cracked. "Yes Applejack?" the filly said apprehensively, fearing that she had done something wrong. "Oh Big Mac, oh my gosh I love it so so much!!" He bucked and whinnied, spinning in circles, his once-flowing tail too short to trip over now, and the euphoria of it all was the most overwhelming emotion little Applejack had ever felt. The tugging became so immense he couldn't ignore it, and he acknowledged it by leaping onto Big Mac with a hearty hug, squeezing her tight as his little arms could, and he rubbed his muzzle into her neck. Big Mac politely pushed her hoof between her neck and AJ's hoof, making sure he didn't squeeze too tight, struggling slightly to breathe. This foal was definitely a strong one. "Thank you so much big sis!!! I feel so great!!" he neighed, stepping back, one hoof raised wiping his immense wave of tears. The feeling of euphoria shot through his body in a rush, showing itself in the form of a tiny but powerful hop, as he lifted his legs into the air and threw them around. Applejack rushed back to the mirror, urging Big Mac to come look as well, as she didn't quite see herself yet with her hair "done all proper-like." Big Mac's face became pale, as she felt the rush of a thousand different emotions. The paranoia became astounding again, what if she didn't like how she looked as a filly? What if she still didn't feel right? What if it wasn't - Her thoughts were abruptly cut short by Applejack tugging her over, knowing her sister just sometimes needed a push in the right direction. "Lookie Big Mac!!" he placed his arm cheerfully around her, wrapping it over her back. Big Mac's eyes were glued shut, and she only bashfully peeked one eye open because curiosity would've ate her alive otherwise, and deep down she knew she had to see herself eventually. She uncovered her hoof from her eye, and opened both of them slowly. Her mouth opened ever so slightly, and she wasn't even aware she had stopped breathing, her eyes fluttered up and down the braided locks, along with her heart, and her eyes landed on the blossom in her ear. She couldn't speak, her throat clogged up from such elation. She felt the choking once again, but it wasn't like before, this feeling was quite welcoming actually. It rushed from her throat up to her head, and took her breath away. The sobbing ebbed at her cheeks right away, and she turned to look at her brother. As they spoke with lack of words, they stared with inordinate graditude. As Big Mac smoothly turned back to the mirror, Applejack stomped all his hooves again, one after the other with no apparent order or care, shaking his head in a frenzy as his ears twitched and he smiled a mile wide. He finally felt *pretty.* Big Mac watched herself adoringly, for the first time ever, and felt this acceptance and understanding of herself coursing through her veins with a confidence she'd never had. She blushed, and her ears fell downward, a small smile creeping onto her face. "Applejack," she whispered softly, as if she were too worried the world would hear her secrets. Applejack peered closer with wide, curious eyes, "Yeah Big Mac?" he whispered back. "My name.." she mumbled. Applejack raised his eyebrows, captivated, as Big Mac slowly lifted her hoof to the blossom behind her ear. "Blossom?" Applejack stated inquisitively, before Big Mac could shake her head AJ corrected himself, "Orchard Blossom!" he exlaimed, leaning back and jumping in the air, "Oh big sis, that's so pretty!! I love it so much!!" Orchard Blossom nervously gestured for him to keep it down, as he was prone to being unaware of his volume control. Applejack embarassedly covered his mouth with a shy smile, "Oops, sorry big sis." he cleared his throat, "Orchard Blossom!!" he yell-whispered, the excitement shining through him, he stamped his tiny hooves and clapped them together in celebration. "That's so pretty, Orchard Blossom!" Applejack told her earnestly, loving the new name. "I don't think I want a new name, but I'm really happy ya found one you like!" "Orchard Blossom, Orchard Blossom, Orchard Blossom!" Applejack repeated, playfully prancing in circles, excited by the sight of his short tail, he spun even faster. "What's all that commotion in there? Applejack? Big Mac? Are ya in there?" they heard through the shut door, hoofsteps gradually approaching, painstakingly slow but steady. Both of them felt their hearts drop from their chest as they froze, unable to even fathom moving. How would they explain any of this? Applejack hurried to clean up desperately, brushing the hair together with his hooves, coldly sweating from his brow as he frantically hurried to remove any evidence. He stopped mid-sweep to quickly shove his father's hat on his head, which slumped immediately and blocked his vision. "Oh dangit Blossom, Pa's hat's too big! I can't see!!" Orchard Blossom was still unmoving, sheer panic stopping her very breaths. Applejack felt the tugging in his throat rise up again as he began whimpering.

Pride of the Sea (Pirate AU; Stuffing)

Port Royal was a pirate city. Not officially, of course: officially, it was commanded by Governor Schoenheit, as well as his lieutenant, Admiral Hunt, and the governor’s personal assistant, Epel Felmier. And as you went further inland in the city, you would definitely find that the navy and government kept a strong grip on everything. But the closer you got to shore, the more likely it was that most seamen you encountered were not loyal subjects to any king or queen, but rather buccaneers and scallywags. Once upon a time, Governor Schoenheit and his allies had been known to hunt pirates relentlessly…but many rumored he had grown lax in control intentionally, after making a bargain with some scoundrels for a share of the profits. Whether it was true or not, the number of cutthroats who wandered the harbor on a near-daily basis could not easily be denied. Many pirates dropped anchor at Port Royal to restock and replenish themselves; they would sell off stolen bounty, gather supplies and make additional repairs as needed…and, of course, they would drink themselves giddy and gorge on just about everything on the menu at the local pub, the Mostro Tavern. The Tavern itself was a shadowy place; many said the man in charge, Azul Ashengrotto, and his chief associates, Floyd and Jade Leech, weren’t even really human…but, of course, even if that were true, not a lot of people cared. If the self-proclaimed King of the Town could have lion ears and a tail, not to mention a mouth full of razor sharp fangs, nobody was going to complain. It was a typical evening at the Mostro Tavern. A small band played to a sea shanty’s melody, in which at least a good third of those present in the pub at that time joined in. The crew of the Sea Lion had finally made berth, after a long and difficult voyage, and had come back with such a haul of treasure that, even after dealing with their “secret partner,” there was still enough to ensure every man aboard the great ship had some share of the profits. With gold and silver jingling in their pockets, the crew had taken to the pub like ducks take to pond water, and were soon swilling back pints of strong drinks, and dining on whatever offerings their collectively carnivorous hearts desired. In a dark back corner of the pub, while his crew cheered and sang obnoxiously, the Captain of the Sea Lion snarled softly, ears flinching back in a wince as he took a drink from a double-noggin mug he held in his hands. He swilled down the heady brew inside in a few loud gulps, and let out a watery belch – “BLLLUUURRRLLLK…mph…” – as he put it back on the table and lounged back in his seat. Leona Kingscholar adjusted the patch over his left eye, his green right eye glittering like broken glass as he absent-mindedly eyed some of his crew who were playing darts against a rival crew that had come to port. The Pirate King huffed through his nose, his leonine table thumping on the booth seat he had taken. He wiggled his hips and rumbled softly, mane falling loosely across his shoulders as he tipped his black hat over his face and all but buried himself in his his silver-colored seaman’s coat. After a voyage such as they had been on, he felt he deserved a nap. Clearly, somebody “up there” or “down there” did not agree with him. He had drifted off quickly – the Captain still held the record for being the fastest man to fall asleep that anybody knew – but he hardly had a couple of minutes to rest his eyes when the sound of approaching, booted footsteps made one of his lion ears prick up. He grunted and sighed through his nose… “You need to watch your step, Fresh Baby,” he muttered, and tipped his hat upward, casting a bored look in the direction of the footsteps. “You walk so loudly I could stab you if I were blind.”

Jack Howl let out a soft growl as he stopped and crossed his arms. The strapping young man with silver-white wolf ears and a tail narrowed his golden eyes and held his head up proudly. He was dressed in a matching uniform to the Captain as was his fellow officer from the crew: a much smaller young man with dirty blonde hair and beige-colored ears and a speckled tail – the traits of a hyena. His outfit was notably larger and more baggy than that of the other two, and his metallic gray eyes seemed to shimmer with mischief. “Shishishishi!” the hyena-boy hissed, snickering into his fist, and smirking impishly. “Told ya so, Quartermaster! Guess maybe they made the wrong choice with you, huh?” “I wanted him to hear me, Bo’sun,” Jack insisted. Ruggie Bucchi rolled his eyes. “Sure you did, puppy-tail, sure you did.” Jack growled, fur bristling. A slothful yawn broke into their thoughts, and they looked back at the Captain as he stared disappointedly into his empty cup, and called over a server to give him a refill. “I was trying to sleep,” he droned, glaring at the two officers with his one uncovered eye. “You should know by now I don’t like being woken up. Do I have to bite off your noses or something?” “I wouldn’t recommend doing that, Leona!” sing-songed Ruggie. “See, I don’t think the rest of the boys would like it!” Leona Kingscholar blinked, then turned as he realized half a dozen other members of his crew had joined the Bo’sun and the Quartermaster at the table. They were all looking at him with bold, brave faces. He sniffed the air and rumbled; they were scared, but trying very hard not to show it. “Hmmm,” he murmured, now feeling intrigued and curious, but trying not to show it as he leaned forward and put his hand on his chin, giving the most dull look he could at the group. “Alright. What is all this about?” “Deputation, Captain,” Jack grunted. “Really?” Leona drawled, trying not to yawn through the word (and barely succeeding). “Then what’s the issue?” The six crew members – all shabbily dressed in typical leathers of the sea-faring sort – shuffled their feet nervously. One of them nudged the other, and Ruggie snickered as the crewman in question – he had doe-like eyes, and the ears and tail of a meerkat – was shoved forward. He gulped, trembling as he looked back at Leona, who watched patiently. “What’s your name?” he grunted. “J-Jimon, Captain.” “Powder Monkey?” The young man, only a little older than what would still be considered a boy, nodded nervously. “Well, step up,” the Captain growled. “I won’t hurt a member of a deputation.” Jimon bit his lip…and took a deep breath before lifting his head up high…and handing something to Leona. Leona raised his one visible eyebrow and took it, finding it to be a small scrap of paper, folded into fourths. He unfolded it…and blinked as he found a single black circle of ink drawn in the center of the sheet. “The Black Spot,” he observed, very, very calmly. “Well. That’s a first for me.” “There’s more,” said one of the other crew members – he had the ears and tail of a warthog. “On the bottom.” Leona’s eye flickered down and he hummed thoughtfully as he read the word. “Deposed,” he repeated aloud, then glared as he looked up at the crew members. Their fear seemed to have subsided slightly when the Captain read the words, as if hearing the recitation had somehow calmed their nerves or assured them of something. “That’s a first, too. And what’s this? This page was cut from a Bible.” He frowned, looking at the sailors. “Which one of you idiots thought THAT was a good idea? It’s bad luck, at BEST.” None of the sailors answered. The Pirate King sneered and looked towards Ruggie and Jack, who were watching with widened eyes. “You didn’t put them up to this, did you?” he growled. “Hey, not me!” Ruggie declared, putting up his hands to show he was innocent. “I didn’t even know what this was about!” Jack shook his head to indicate he was surprised, as well. “We’ll tell you what’s wrong, Captain Kingscholar,” came the voice of one of the six crewmates, catching the attention of the three officers of the pirate vessel currently docked outside. “Some of us have been around for a couple of trips, and we don’t think we’re getting fair treatment.” “The Captain is supposed to get the same equal share of the treasure as the rest of the crew,” added another. “But we’re pretty sure you’ve been taking more than you’re owed!” “Not to mention,” a third put in, “That you spend most of the voyage lazing about the Cabin sleeping. Not even checking on plans or anything like that, just napping each day away while we swab the decks or peel away barnacles!” “Tch,” scoffed Leona, and rolled his eyes. He’d heard all this before, and in fact, most of it was patently untrue; yes, he enjoyed sleep, but the ship wouldn’t have gotten nearly as many successes if it had without him, he was sure. And yes, a large portion of the treasure did not go to the crew, but it didn’t go to him either: that was used to pay off Governor Schoenheit. Leona Kingscholar was many things, but he wasn’t stupid: trying to treat the crew unfairly led to… …Well…exactly what he was going through now. As a result, even with the Black Spot – a sign of violence promised if he didn’t accept the terms of the agreement – hanging over his head, he remained calm and cool. “Alright,” he grunted, folding his hands on the table as he looked at the six pirates. “And are you sure the rest of the crew has your back on this?” Once again, the six men shuffled and fidgeted. Jack growled and glared. “The Captain runs the WHOLE ship,” the wolf rumbled. “The Black Spot is meant to be given when the ENTIRE crew feels it’s necessary.” The wolf began to move forward…but Leona lifted a hand and shook his head. “Six is enough for me to listen, even if it’s not enough to count,” he said. He placed the paper in his pocket, and tilted his head. “So…you want me to step down. Who do you want to take my place?” “The Quartermaster!” three men answered. “The Bo’sun!” said the other three. All three officers jumped back in surprise. “Mr. Howl is strong and able in battle,” said one of the men. “He’s much more fair and knows how to treat the crew while also not being afraid to get his hands dirty.” Jack said nothing, but a light in his eyes showed he was proud of the praise. “Mr. Bucchi is fast and sharp!” exclaimed another. “And he works hard enough for three! He can probably manage the ship better than anybody else!” “Awww…you mates are gonna make me blush,” Ruggie snickered. “Shishishishi!” “You CAN’T be serious,” Leona growled, clenching his fists in anger and indignation. “The Fresh Baby’s only been around a few months, and the hyena is a shrimp!” “Hey, fair’s fair, Leona!” Ruggie exclaimed, now looking quite excited and wagging his tail. “Some of these guys want me to be Captain, who am I to say no?” “He does have a point,” Jack spoke up, then hastily added: “Not that I want to BE Captain, just…if the crew thinks one of us could do the job…” “This is one fraction of the crew,” Leona glared. “Their black spot means nothing, and they can’t even agree on which of you they want to vote in.” His eyes flashed as he looked towards the six crew members, who gulped nervously. “This is NOT a proper deputation,” the Captain growled. “This is a mutiny.” Slowly, Leona stood up…and reached for the cutlass at his side. “We all know what happens to mutineers…” The six men whimpered like frightened schoolboys and started to step back…when, suddenly, Ruggie moved in-between them and Leona. “Whoa-whoa-whoa, one moment!” he said, holding his hands up placatingly. “C’mon, let’s not get violent!” “Especially not with Ashengrotto’s goons probably watching right now,” Jack added. “Not that I’m scared of them at all, but…we don’t want to cause more trouble than they’re worth, do we?” Leona frowned, and moved his hand away from his cutlass; the Quartermaster had a point. Ashengrotto had help from the Leech Twins – two tall men with inhuman strength, so strong that one of them, Floyd by name, was said to be able to break a man’s back with his bare arms. Leona had no doubt he could beat them…but the idea opened up to too many potential hazards. “Then how do you suggest we settle this?” he demanded. “I have an idea!” Ruggie suggested with a bright smile. “How about a competition?” “Yes!” cheered one of the crew members. “And whoever wins becomes the Captain!” “That’s stupid,” Leona droned. “It’s fair,” Jack reasoned. “If six was enough to listen, six is enough to make a difference.” “And besides, you’re not AFRAID of losing to little ol’ me or the fresh baby, aaare yooooouuu?” teased Ruggie, batting his eyes innocently. Leona glared. “As soon as I win,” he growled, “I’m going to bite your tail off, hyena.” “Shishishishi! I’ll take that as a no,” Ruggie grinned. “What is this contest going to be?” Jack asked, and pumped one fist into his other hand. “Combat? Tracking?” “Nope!” chirped Ruggie, with a sly wink. “I have a much BETTER idea in mind…”

“…EATING CONTEST!” Jack and Leona had matching, stupefied expressions as they sat at one of three chairs beside a long table, which was suddenly piled high with food. In front of each seat was a separate setting: three plates of roasted fish – sea bass – were set beside three other plates, which each contained three rare beefsteaks (nine in total). Three bowls of turtle soup sat beside three smaller bowls of fried oysters. In-between the bowls were small plates with lobster tails. Three plates of barbequed pork were next in line, and just when it seemed nothing else could fit, three MASSIVE bowls were carried out, piled high with Solomon Grundy: a sort of chef’s salad, popular among pirates. A large barrel of cider was prepared as three pint-sized mugs finished up the setting. Leona sat in the center; Jack was to his left, Ruggie to his right. He blinked at the huge feast…then slowly looked at Ruggie. “You’re serious,” he mumbled. “Well, yeah!” Ruggie laughed. “I mean, would all this delicious goodness be set up if I weren’t?” “But what does an eating contest prove?” sneered Jack. Ruggie blinked and frowned. He obviously hadn’t thought of that…but he quickly recovered. “Well, uh…we’re all predators, right? Carnivores? Supposed to be, y’know, all fierce and such?” The Captain and the Quartermaster nodded slowly. “See then?” grinned Ruggie. “Whichever one of us eats the most has got to be the best predator of the bunch, and therefore, we’d be the best Captain!” “There is logic in what he says,” one of the crew members nodded; by now, the ENTIRE crew of the Sea Lion had gathered round to witness the event. Leona looked totally unconvinced. Jack Howl, meanwhile, hummed thoughtfully and rubbed his belly as it let out a deep rumble. “Hmmm…well, I am hungry,” he admitted, “Just a little…but I’m not agreeing because of that! Only to test my strength.” Leona rolled his eyes and looked back to Ruggie again. “You just wanted an excuse to spend all your money on a ton of food, didn’t you?” he droned. “Whaaaat? Me? Now, why would I EVER do a thing like that?” he crooned. “Shishishishi!” Leona glared. He was about to state that he would not, under any circumstances, put his Captain’s position on the line for this… GRRRLLLOOORRRLLLG… …Only to wince and place a hand over his own belly as it gurgled LOUDLY; so loudly that a few in the crew snickered. Leona scowled and scratched his gut as he looked out and weighed his options. If he refused, it could make things worse; now the WHOLE crew was involved in this stupidity, and they’d be judging things. He cursed to himself; Ruggie had already gotten his wish, and the worst part was, Leona couldn’t tell if he’d intentionally outmaneuvered the Captain or not. Well. Fine then. He’d just have to keep playing this game regardless. “Tch. Pain in my ass,” he grumbled, then shook his head in surrender. “Fine. But I hope you both know you’ve already lost.” “That’s the spirit!” Ruggie declared, clapping his hands together, and then looked towards Jimon, who was standing near the edge of the table. “Are you ready?” Jimon nodded, and looked to the rest of the crew, holding out his hands. “Okay, mates!” he called, and the tavern went silent, listening to him. “The rule is simple: the first to finish ALL the food in front of them becomes our new Captain! Are we set?” A cheer came from the crew, as they lifted their cups and laughed. “Alright!” thundered Jimon, and looked to the officers. “Captain…Quartermaster…Bo’sun…ready?” All three nodded; Ruggie was excited, Jack was trying NOT to be excited, and Leona was just wishing he could get back to his nap and be done with this idiocy. “On your mark…get set…CHOW DOWN!” And so the three officers did. Each reached for the barbequed porkchops first. They did not bother with forks and knives, but instead lifted the meat by the bone and began ripping into it. Their sharp teeth shredded the juicy, tender flesh, tearing it asunder as they growled and chomped, gobbling it up like wild beasts. All of their tails lashed almost in unison as they began their feeding frenzy, eyes flashing hungrily as they gave in to their animal instincts. GROMPH, CHOMPH, NOMPH…! The pork was soon finished; the trio of hungry pirates concluded the first dish at the exact same time, dropping the bare bones – sucked clean of even the smallest particle of cooked muscle – onto their plates with a collective clatter. The three licked their lips and suckled on their fingers, getting rid of the excess sauce and juices. Jack finished this part the most quickly, and reached for the bowl of turtle soup next. He grabbed a large spoon and slurped up a spoonful… …Before freezing as he saw both Ruggie and Leona place their hands upon the bowls…and then begin to drink down the stew directly from the bowl. Their Adam’s Apples bobbed and bounced as they slugged down the thick, meaty dish, the sound of broth and turtle flesh together dropping down their gullets, echoing in the wolfman’s sensitive ears… GLUG, GLUG, GLUG…! Jack blinked, looked to his fellow officers, the bowl, then back to them, then back to the bowl…then, without another moment’s hesitation, he followed suit, gulping down the terrapin stew as fast as he could in the hopes of catching up. However, he’d only managed to get through half of it before the Captain and the Bo’sun finished their helpings. They each slammed down their bowls and sighed. Ruggie grunted and beat his chest with one fist, then let out a thick, bubbling belch. “BRRRRRRUUUUUUOOOOOORRRRRRUUUUUUULLLLLLLPK!” The hyena sighed and patted his stomach; it sloshed and gurgled loudly with the thick soup inside. He licked his lips messily. “Mmm-MMM! Not too bad!” he cheered, and grinned wickedly at Leona. “Bet you can’t top that, huh, ‘Ex-Captain?’” Leona glared and responded by opening his jaw…and without even needing to thump his chest, he erupted in a HUGE belch, louder and longer than Ruggie’s. “BAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRYYYYYYYYYYYYUUUUUUUUUUUUUOOOOOOOOOOOORRRRRRRRRRRRP!” Some of the crew laughed and applauded, while others just rolled their eyes. Ruggie, for his part, snickered and grinned even wider. “Nice one!” he declared. “But I still bet-” “GWWWWWWWWWWWWWWUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLP!” Both the lion and the hyena jumped, and the whole tavern seemed to go still as Jack finished his bowl of soup, and erupted in a blast that outmatched the past two easily. “‘Scuse me,” Jack mumbled, casually, and grabbed his bowl of fried oysters next. Instead of eating them by hand, Jack treated them much the same way he had with the bowl of soup: dumping the whole lot of oysters into his jaws and devouring them en masse. The other two pirates blinked, looked at each other then…then shot challenging glares. “No one,” Leona growled, “Outmatches the King.” Ruggie just snarled softly, and grabbed hold of the bowl. The lion-man did the same, and they dumped the oysters into their gaping maws as well, jaws expanding inhumanly wide to engulf the entire bunch as they gobbled and gulped greedily as could be… GRALPH-GROMPH-OMPH-GROBBLE…! Thick, formless lumps dropped through the throats of the three oceangoing rascals. The crew was whooping and hollering, chanting “EAT, EAT, EAT!” and calling out to the three contenders… “Show ‘em who’s captain around here, Leona!” “You can do it, Mr. Howl! Keep eating!” “C’mon, Bucchi! A hyena’s belly is never full!” The leaders of the Sea Lion were soon done with the oysters. The bowls clicked and clattered down onto the table almost in time to the house fiddler’s tune. Jack slapped his bowl down first, naturally, shortly followed by Ruggie; Leona snarled aggressively as he finished last. He was NOT going to be beaten by two mangy fleabags! He was the Pirate King, and if this was the way to prove it, he’d do it! “Oi! Let’s have some drinks!” he bellowed. One of the other pirates nodded, and hurried to the barrel of cider, grabbing the three pint-sized mugs. With a twist of a small faucet spigot, the three mugs were quickly filled, and slid across the table towards the three pirates, who lifted their glasses in toast to the crew before throwing back their heads and beginning to drink quickly. GLUG, GLUG, GLUG…! The cider rolled down their throats in sloshing, fizzing waves. Most pirates, famously, indulged in rum, but the cider at the Mostro Lounge was a special thing. It warmed one’s gullet in a heavenly manner, and broiled in the belly of each beast-man like a gallon of molten gold. Even as the crew hollered out, pumping their fists and tossing back drinks of their own, he pirates all felt their eyes close in bliss; they were almost unaware of the moment when each of them realized they had drained their cups to the dregs. Their pints BANGED down onto the table and the three groaned; each burped at the exact same time, the sound mingling into one enormous eructation, so voluminous and volatile, it might have brought the pub roof down on their heads if it went on any longer than it did. “BLLLLLUUUUURRRRRLLLLL- UUUUUYYYYYOOOOORRRRR- HHHHHHHEEEEEEELLLLLLLCH!” Jack grunted, letting out a muffled after-belch, cheeks ballooning as he tried to hide a mild blush – “HHHRRRLLLMMMPH…grmph…” – but Ruggie laughed and slapped his knee, cackling like a hyena might. “Ha Ha HA! I think that was a blast worthy of a king, don’t you all?” he called to the crew, and a few called out their agreement. Leona rolled his eyes, pausing to lean back and glance down at his stomach. He winced and clutched it in his tanned fingers. His vest was always unbuttoned, as was his coat, but his shirt was stretching a bit as his gut began to grow larger and heavier in his lap. He palmed at it, trying to quiet the deep grumbles and gurgles as it churned over its heavy load…biting his lip and moaning as he inadvertently petted over a sensitive place, his rope-like tail flicking behind him. “Don’t pause for too long, Leona,” grinned Ruggie, as he patted his own bulging stomach with pride. “If I finish first, you’ll be mopping the deck from dawn to dusk!” Leona glared and snarled. “The only thing you’ll eat more than me are those words,” he sneered, and dove right back into the fray, grabbing hold of his lobster tail and slurping the meat out of it noisily. Jack watched the two argue, and picked up his own lobster tail at the same time as Ruggie; the three were effectively neck and neck, and it was truly anybody’s race. He had to admit, internally, that the Captain was definitely the most notorious eater of their bunch…but Jack wasn’t going to let that intimidate him. Oh, no! If the crew wanted him for captain, he’d prove himself without hesitation; this was a strange way to do it, but he’d manage! He was just as great a predator as any lion, just as fierce and ravenous as any hyena…and he would show them how true that was. The lobster tails didn’t take long to finish, the meat all but being inhaled by the three – SCHLOMPH! – and they moved on to the roasted fish. These, also, were quick to be downed. Jack and Ruggie both looked for something to cut into their fish… …Then stopped sort when Leona carefully lifted his fish off the plate and simply dropped it directly into his gaping mouth, and – GULURLP! – swallowed it in one bite. His finger traced the bulge the fish made as it slipped down his throat…and he sighed and patted his belly before letting out a short, brackish burp. “BRARP! Mph…went down nice and smooth,” he murmured, with a pleasant purr to his voice, before reaching for the beefsteaks next. Jack and Ruggie blinked…looked at each other…then shrugged and did the same thing. GUL-URLP! They swallowed together. Jack grimaced and smacked his chest, as his fish had been a little overcooked, with burnt edges, and didn’t quite go down as smoothly as the other two. Ruggie, meanwhile, licked his lips and pattered out a drumbeat on his swelling stomach. “Oooooh, yeah….that tasted…hic!” He hiccuped and burped up the last two words… “…RRREEEAAALLLYYY…GOOOOOOOOOOOOD!” A few of the crew-mates cackled and fanned the air before their noses, a pungent, fishy aroma tainting Ruggie’s breath and gas after all the seafood he’d guzzled, not helped by the lingering sickly-sweetness from the cider. Ruggie grinned proudly and flexed his (not all that impressive) abs, belching again even louder than before. “Ha Ha! Now hear this: IIIIIIIIIIIIIIII…AAAAAAAAAMMMMMMM…THEEEEEEE…BEEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSSSST-UUUUUUURRRRROOOORRRRRP!” Leona just rolled his eyes at Ruggie’s antics, letting out a light belch from the side of his mouth – “Uuuuurrrrrrrrp…” - and wasted no time speaking to reach for the next dish on the table: the platter of three beefsteaks. Jack was the same way, the pair pulling their plates close even as Ruggie flaunted to the crowd, tipping his black hat as he stood and bowed…only to yelp and hurriedly sit back down when the Captain and Quartermaster began to rip into the beefsteaks the same way they had the pork chops. Their jagged teeth, perfectly evolved for devouring unruly prey, made quick work of the rare tenderloins. Juice dribbled onto the edges of their mouths, but they lapped it up quickly with their sloppy tongues, snarling as they fed like sharks. Ruggie was quick to join in; in fact, he ate faster than either of the two larger beast men. He moaned softly as he enjoyed the flavor of the meat, losing himself in it as he bit and chewed and swallowed heartily: GRUM, GRUM, GRUM…GRULK, GRULK, GRULK. Each bit of the fresh meat was like heaven; unlike his fellow officers, Ruggie had not come from a particularly stable home life. He’d always been a poor fellow, and had served many positions on the open sea in his young life. It wasn’t because he loved adventure, it was simply because he needed the money. Eventually, Ruggie had realized piracy was simply the best way to earn money…and it was money he didn’t entirely use for himself. His family, his neighbors…he’d never looked back, because they were just as happy as he was. And it meant he could enjoy SUCH. GOOD. FOOD. Becoming Captain had actually never been a goal for him, and he was perfectly fine following Leona…buuuuut if others thought he could do it better? Well. Now Mr. High-and-Mighty would be cleaning HIS room, and climbing into the crow’s nest on HIS ship…and maaaybe occasionally being given some breaks between cleaning the cannons, because, hey, what were friends for? Spurred on, Ruggie guzzled the beefsteak quickly, and once again, the three pirates concluded at the same time. “DRINK!” all three boomed at once, and as the crewman assigned to “pint duty” went to get them more cider, all three groaned and leaned back in their chairs. Jack bit his lip and rumbled softly, trying not to blush; his stomach had become bigger than a good-sized pumpkin, and the same went for all the others. “Mmph…HIC-UUURRRP!” he belched and chuckled, looking somewhat proud of himself. “I haven’t eaten this much in a while…starting to feel heavy…” “Getting tired already, Fresh Baby?” teased Ruggie. “No!” protested Jack, smile vanishing as he glared hotly at the hyena…then he paused as he patted his stomach, which made a satisfying “thump, thump, thump” under his hand, even through the cloth of his more-tightly-fitting shirt. “I just…I’m enjoying the sensation…” “Hmph. Well, can’t blame you there,” rumbled Leona, smirking as he traced his fingertips over his own sizeable stomach. Ruggie, meanwhile, sighed and scratched at his. Moments later, the cider was served, and the three lifted their cups. They looked to the table and realized there was only one dish left for each of them to finish off: the Solomon Grundy. They then turned to each other. “Well,” Jack grunted, and lifted his cup as if in toast, smiling in a cocky, confident way. “May the best beast-man win.” “I plan to,” Leona sneered. Ruggie snickered – “Shishishishi!” – and the three clinked their mugs together before swallowing down their drinks as fast as they could. GLUG, GLUG, GLUG…! If one were close enough, they could have heard the fluid pouring down into the bellies of each beast, like a waterfall cascading down onto jagged shoals. Their stomachs expanded, inch by inch, with every other swallow. At long last, the three finished off their drinks together, gasping as they slammed the empty pint glasses down. But none of the three stopped; not to relieve pressure, not to say a word. This was the home stretch, and the pirates were determined to make the most of it. One last dish remained, and that would decide who became head of the team. Even the crowd of their crew had stopped cheering and laughing, as if consuming this final dish were some sacred ritual. In fact, even the tavern band had ceased; the fiddler had become so engrossed in the contest, they had no choice BUT to stop playing. The Solomon Grundy may have been a chef’s salad, but it was no small or light dish. Leafy greens and a few string beans made the bed. Diced baby tomatoes and a great deal of garlic were sprinkled over the other toppings, including slivers of prosciutto, some seven or eight prawns in each bowl, three olives, and two hard-boiled eggs per eater. It was a large and much heavier-looking dish than many might have anticipated. Jack and Ruggie dug right in without a moment’s hesitation. Ruggie, by his own admission, would eat anything that wasn’t moldy. As for Jack…as long as it wasn’t onions, which he loathed, he didn’t especially MIND fruits and veggies. Not that he wouldn’t rather eat meat, but they didn’t bother him at all. In fact, some of his favorite foods were fruit-based dishes. As a result, neither had any problem as they grabbed hold of forks and began to eat: Ruggie started with the string beans, while Jack got started by devouring the olives. Leona, however, paused. He was a carnivore, through and through. He COULD eat vegetables and fruits…but he really didn’t like doing so. With ANY of them. Meat – plain and simple meat, in all its forms – was what he ideally chose. Now, however, was not a time to be especially picky; he had a lot to prove, and he wasn’t about to let something as pointless as a few veggies get in his way. So, he took a deep breath…and, somewhat wincingly, began to eat the tomatoes first, specifically so he could get to the meat and eggs buried underneath them. OMPH…NOMPH…CHLOMPH…! The pirates continued to eat, but now, their progress had slowed. The weight of all the food they’d stuffed into their bellies was beginning to sink in; if you’ve ever overindulged yourself, you know the sensation. A sense of sore lethargy washes over oneself, as that point between feeling full and feeling sick makes its presence known. Your body internally yells at you, telling you not to take another bite, telling you not even to THINK about food…everything feels overstretched and overstuffed… This was how all three pirates began to feel, but they struggled on. Jack and Ruggie turned almost as green as the lettuce on their plate. They could barely taste the prawns or the rich prosciutto as they shoveled into their mouths and chewed slowly before reluctantly swallowing. Their breathing became heavy as ate. Jack’s tail stopped wagging, and Ruggie’s ears folded back against his head. But even as the Quartermaster and the Bo’sun slowed in their feasting…Captain Kingscholar actually sped up! Several in the crew inhaled sharply as, upon finishing the tomatoes, Leona popped the two eggs into his mouth and – GULG-GULP! – swallowed them both in a single bite. He then began to shovel the prawns and prosciutto into his fanged jaws as well, eating as if he weren’t tired at all! Even as he ate, one could hear the buttons and stitches of his pants and shirt strain and creak, fighting to keep his ever-expanding belly in place. The same sounds came from Ruggie and Jack. They tried to muscle through, but soon fell behind Leona. They both were down to the last few items on their plate – only their eggs were left – and they each lifted one egg to their mouths… …Then, after three seconds…both groaned and put the eggs down. Ruggie let out a whimpering sound as he leaned back, breathing heavily and swallowing thinly, placing one hand over his stomach, which pressed against his garments so tightly, one could have sworn he’d swallowed several cannonballs. Jack was no better, his once strong and muscular abdomen stretched thin and taut as he bit his lip and growled, trying not to look as sick as he felt. He hiccuped once – “HIC!” – and moaned, closing his eyes as he clutched his gut tightly. Ruggie, meanwhile, let out a MASSIVE burp that must have echoed through the pirate town. “BLLLLLLLLLAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRP! Oof…no more,” gasped out Ruggie Bucchi. “No…n-no more…I’m…URPH…aaahhhh, I’m s-s-so, hah…so STUFFED…” “Can’t eat…another bite,” groaned Jack. “Not because…I don’t WANT to…” He couldn’t even finish his excuse, breaking off in another rumbling belch that seemed to quake through the floor of the Mostro Tavern: “YYYYYUUUUURRRRRRLLLLLLGP…oooohhhhooooffffff…” Both looked towards Captain Kingscholar, to see how far he’d gotten…and both felt their tails slip between their legs as they saw Leona was finishing up the last of his salad. He shoved the last few leafy greens into his jaws; they crunched noisily between his teeth – GRUMCH, GRUMCH, GRUMCH – before, at long last, he swallowed, looking a little sick himself. “GRRRUUULLLP…tch…damn herbivore fodder…” Leona briefly glanced to the two unfinished plates, and smirked. He was feeling tired, and each time his stomach let out a GRRROOOOOOG or a BLLLUUURRRLLLB he felt something lurch and had to fight to keep it down…but the sense of triumph swelling in his chest made him grin like the cat who had caught the canary. He glanced at the eggs on each of the other officers’ plates. “Are you going to eat that?” he asked, as casually as he could, but with an air of smug superiority neither the Quartermaster nor the Bo’sun could deny. They also couldn’t tell him that they were. Ruggie whined like a kicked cub, and Jack just let out a sigh somewhere between a growl and a sigh. Leona shrugged…and, just to show off, lifted the eggs from the two plates. There were four in total…and, because he was feeling VERY proud, Leona tossed each one into the air, and let them drop – one by one – into his mouth. GULP! GLURP! GLUPP! GULLUP! Leona sighed…and let out a hiccup that made his stomach SLURLSH loudly. He groaned with discomfort…but quickly turned his grimace into an almost unhinged smile as he reached for his cutlass. SCHLANK. The cutlass stabbed into the table-top; Jack and Ruggie were so full and beaten, they didn’t even jump, but the rest of the crew started with an almost synchronized yelp. Then, huffing and puffing like a blacksmith’s bellows, Leona used the leverage from his blade in the table to haul himself onto his feet. HE grunted and “chuffed” as he swayed a bit from the fullness in his gut; his shirt was stretched SO tight, you could actually make out his skin between the gaps in the buttons. “Now,” he announced, and glared towards Jimon. “I officially resign. Elect anyone you please to be your…” He grunted and hiccuped again before finishing. “…Mph…your captain.” There was a pause…then, without warning, the crew began to chant Leona’s name. Leona blinked slowly, groggily, and shook his head, hanging it in a weary sort of way. He reached with his free hand into his pocket…and held aloft the Black Spot. Silence…then, a lone voice called from the crowd: “It was Jimon’s idea!” “Yes! Take it back, Jimon, and tear it up!” thundered another. Leona’s one visible eye widened, and he looked towards the frightened meerkat. He’d been under the impression the young Powder Monkey had been coerced into giving him the Spot… …But given the way the meerkat was trembling now, looking astonished and in a state of dread…Leona realized that wasn’t the case. The eye narrowed again, and he held out the Black Spot on the Bible page to Jimon. The timid meerkat cautiously approached, like a small boy who had been caught doing something naughty, and was expecting to be punished. He reached out to accept the Spot… …And Leona pulled back…before leaning in close, teeth bared. “Put this back in the Good Book, morsel,” he growled, making sure his breath – now rank with the smell of all he’d eaten – washed over the meerkat demi’s face. “The next time you decide you want to challenge me in ANY way…” He slapped the paper into Jimon’s hand and licked his teeth. “…You’re going to need all the prayers you can get.” With those words, Leona belched uproariously, right in the treacherous young pirate’s face. The biggest, loudest, most putrid belch he’d let out all night. “BUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAOOOOOOORRRRRRRRHHHHHHHUUUUUUURRRRRRRRLLLLLLLLLLLUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIPK!” Jimon’s face turned green. He coughed once…and, comically, fell over in a faint. The crew roared with laughter. Leona, for his part, groaned, the smile leaving his face as he FLOPPED back into his chair. It squeaked noisily under him as he leaned back in it and panted a bit, rubbing his belly. It felt immensely packed – it WAS immensely packed – and it was only the fact they were in the pub that kept him from unbuttoning his shirt or trousers and letting it all hang free. Not that Leona cared AT ALL what people thought of him, but the last time he’d tried that, Azul’s thugs had nearly squeezed him to death for his “indecency.” “Tch…pain in my – URP – ass…” “More like pain in my gut,” joked Ruggie. “Shishishi-ooooowwww, it hurts to laugh…mph…” Jack rolled his eyes, and looked towards Leona, a sense of awe in his dulled yellow eyes. He couldn’t help but smile with a sense of pride. While he wouldn’t have minded being Captain himself, proving how tough his guts were…he admired Kingscholar’s strength and cleverness. And now, he could safely say there was one more thing he knew couldn’t be beaten: Kingscholar’s voracious appetite. “Next time either of you tries to beat me in a contest of any kind,” Leona muttered, tipping his hat over his  eyes once more and sheathing his cutlass, “I’ll filet you both.” “I think I just went up a few pant sizes,’ moaned Ruggie. “You won’t be hearing any arguments, from – UUURRRK – me, Captain…ngh…” “S-Same,” Jack conceded, and chuckled lightly. “Still…we gave you a good challenge, didn’t we, Captain?” Silence. “…Captain?” A snore. Ruggie and Jack blinked as Leona had already fallen asleep in his chair. His gut “slugorlshed” as he scratched it idly in his sleep and licked his lips…then went back to snoring, tail and ears occasionally twitching as he returned to the nap he’d been torn away from. Jack and Ruggie smiled at each other…then closed their eyes and leaned back as well, letting the sounds of the pub filter in as the band began to play once more. “Well, if he WERE awake,” Ruggie mumbled, tracing his fingertips over his stomach and tilting his own hat over his own eyes, “I think we both know what he’d say.” “Yeah,” Jack sighed out, and did the same before finishing: “Don’t mess with the King.” And thus the pirate leaders of the Sea Lion napped the night away. Soon, they would be off another voyage… …And the chances were good, they’d be eating EVEN MORE after the loot was shared again. The End

Eight Seconds

Howdy! I’m honestly freaking out bc this the first Spencer Reid anything I’ve written and bc I try not to out myself as country too much bc well the world right now. (I honestly wish there was more people out there who had a thing for cowgirls/boys as I do.) I hope at least one person enjoys it as much as I liked writing it. 

Summary: Spencer Reid meets the cowgirl of his dreams...

Warnings: I think I swear like twice? other than that it’s fluff

Word count: 4.5k

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He doesn’t think that it would be Penelope Garcia to catch him. Sure, she’s a genius and a tech wizard and an overall queen at gathering gossip. But she  isn’t around him as much as JJ. Or Emily. Or Morgan.

What gave him away to her and not everyone else?

Because he knows he’s given something away when she texts him. Urgent. Batcave now! He’s hopeful. Optimistic. Maybe Penelope’s got some burning question about Star Trek. Or Doctor Who. Or when the next convention is. Maybe it’s a serial killer.

But he isn’t that lucky. Spencer Reid never is.

He knocks hesitantly, worried for exactly what’s to come. Her gaze snaps up from her tablet. Snaps to him in an incessant kind of ‘I know what you did’ way. It’s a look for scolding children. Not a pleasant, let’s have a tea time chat, gaze.

Spencer settles into the extra chair and waits. There’s a storm brewing behind her eyes and when she finally speaks, she doesn’t disappoint.

“What’s her name?”

And he can’t stop it. Lovesick smile, starry eyes—Penelope doesn’t have to be a profiler to see it before he sobers up. Her mouth opens into a toothy grin. An insufferably contagious grin and he knows he’s caught for sure.

He leans back in the desk chair, stares up at the ceiling and breathily whispers, “Shawn.”

“Oh!” Penelope gasps. He can hear the mental scolding. There’s backtracking with no end in sight. “Well, I didn’t mean to presume and it’s—it’s okay if Shawn is—or you’re—and I just didn’t know—you never said anything—“

“Relax,” he chuckles and grins at her softly for good measure. “Shawn is a girl. Her legal name is Shawna if you’re that curious.”

And he knows Penelope is curious. She’s grinning and waiting and listening. He can tell she wants to prompt. To ask questions. To dig through every tiny detail she can. Is it bad to make her wait? To not want anyone to know about the girlfriend he’s kept hidden for so long?

“Tell me more,” Penelope buzzes, bouncing in her seat, monitors—work—forgotten. “Where did you love story begin?”

He smiles to himself. It’s not a matter of when, but how long.

It took eight seconds. All of eight seconds.

#

At first, he wasn’t even sure it was eight seconds. He’d been running, running harder than he ever had. Chucks flapping against the hard packed dirt. Horse trailers flying by him as he jumped hitches and slipped through patches of mud.

It was five minutes of burning lungs and dust caked nostrils before those eight seconds. Quick glances between trailers. Got to keep moving, Reid, got to keep up. Because Morgan’s chanting was getting distant, too distant. The last time they’d split up—

Five minutes of a maze he hadn’t learned. Five minutes of being utterly lost, following the sound of Morgan’s thundering boots and desperation. They were all desperate. It was a desperate move to keep running, not to find solace in an empty horse trailer on the killer’s part. The bastard thought he could lose them, shake the FBI agents off his tail.

Reid knew better, but he was getting desperate too. His lungs were burning. It’d only been five minutes.

“FBI! Stop!” Morgan shouted from behind him. Reid skidded through a patch of horse shit into the main thoroughfare. Thank god. No more trailers. A walkway, a solid walkway, a clear line of sight. The man was running. Why do they always run?

Reid picks up his lungs in his desperate hands and pushes on. Grits his teeth, clenches down on every spare inch of fortitude left. Morgan catches up easily but doesn’t surpass. They’re both tired. They’re both panting. They’ve both got weapons drawn, but who could make a shot at 50 yards with a moving target?

Not Reid. He knew better.

But Morgan tried one more time. Shouted and called and screamed. The man didn’t look back. Prison was on his heels and he was desperate enough to keep running. A coward. There wouldn’t be a standoff. Smart enough to not get cornered, not smart enough to keep from getting caught.

They both pushed harder. This was their eight seconds. They were getting close, they reasoned to themselves, hearts panting to the same rhythm. They could keep it together for these last seconds. He’d get tired—they were getting tired—he had to be tired by now.

He was racing in snakeskin cowboy boots. How could he be keeping that pace in those shoes?

Reid hoped his lungs would give out. Save the heroic work for Morgan. Morgan could get the bad guy. Morgan could get the girl. He could have anything he wanted. Reid just wanted to fall face first into the dirt and let the fresh mud extinguish the flames in his lungs. In his throat. In his mouth.

But then the eight seconds came.

In the first second, he realised his heart didn’t gallop. It didn’t have the imprints of hooves. It wasn’t the two thousand pound animal gaining momentum behind him. His heart was clogging his ears that badly. Thankfully, with his wits about him, he looked back.

In the second second, Reid saw the animal. Mid-step, perfect stride. A plastic figurine of a race horse, nostrils wide at the end of its long face. It took only the second second to see the crazy in the horse’s eyes. How they focused and blinked and bled the insanity. How it was more beast than domesticated pet. Reid was convinced the black stockings on its legs were dripping grease from its gears. He could see the muscle in its shoulders and flanks. Muscle groupings bigger than him. An animal that could crush him. A machine running with a single thought: faster.

He saw the rider in the third second. One he didn’t expect. Maybe it was his own memories of cowboy movies, but cowboys weren’t supposed to be dipped in glitter. Weren’t supposed to be such overtly female. But there she was. Her dark curls billowing behind her. Sun glinting off the gold of her hat. Glinting off the impressive amount of glitter on her eyelids. And the rhinestones on her black button-down. She was stunning. Furrowed in her concentration. Elated in her grin.

The rope came in the fourth. It was twisting in her hand, coil and reins held precariously in her other. It loops over her head, slack enough to swallow her whole. Slack enough to get caught on her. Get caught on the horse. She keeps perfect control and the hand comes around and around until she—

In the fifth second, the rope releases and Reid slows his feet to watch it. The horse has gained on the man, so close that teeth could get involved. The man doesn’t seem to know, or is too desperate to change direction. Because he’s gone straight and the horse has followed and the rope is sliding through her hand like it’s meant to be there forever. It goes and goes and goes. He thinks the loop is bound to catch her foot, a hoof, something. But it doesn’t. It never does.

With six seconds down, the man finds he doesn’t have feet anymore. The loop of the rope tightens around his legs and he’s falling. He doesn’t have feet under him. Barely hands to save his face. Reid hopes the fall is harder than it needs to be. But he’s not focused on the man, he’s focused on the girl. The girl who expertly catches the rope in her hands. Who expertly ties the end around the saddle horn. Who’s horse pulls the rope taut and the man goes down.

At seven seconds, the horse is still backing. It knows. It’s practiced. Reid can see the elation on both rider and animal. Their pride is palpable. He doesn’t know it, but this is the best run they’ve done together. Not the fastest, but the best.

Eight seconds is when the girl turns to them. Grinning, hollering, hands up in the air. Reid watches as they catch up, slowing down to match the horse’s speed. The man tries to flip himself over, dragging on his back towards the federal agents. Reid can feel his heart and he wonders if it’s beating harder from the run or the thrill.

He’ll never admit it but he’s always wanted to be a cowboy. This girl has his other dream in her hands, wearing it as her favourite belt buckle.

Eight seconds later and she’s smiling down at the agents, still hollering some form of yeehaw! Reid grins, dragging his aching limbs forward to help Morgan flip the man onto his stomach and cuff him. The dragging discontinues and the horse knickers his anger that the trial is over.

Reid loosens the rope from the man’s feet, working the fray between his fingers. He moves to hand it to the cowgirl but she’s already snapping it from him and coiling it back up. She latches it back to her saddle, chest heaving with the excitement of it all.

“Bitch!” the man spits as Morgan hauls him to his feet.

The girl just smirks and tips her hat back. Reid can’t help but watch her pretty red lips as she says, “I’ll stick my foot so far up your ass, you’ll taste my good leather if you don’t shut your goddamn mouth.” Vulgarity has never sounded better off of anyone else’s tongue. She’s got the first sermon he’s ever wanted to listen to sitting on her lips and he wonders if this is why people believe in God. If pretty girls have always made men believe in things they shouldn’t.

Her drawl is thick, sticky, and unsweet. She’s got more threats bubbling up in her chest, sitting precariously close to her heart. She comfortable in sliding off her horse, landing softly in the dirt.

He won’t admit it, but he can’t ignore how round her ass is in those tight jeans.

She pats her horse, sliding her rough hands under its harnesses and it’s mane. Reid knows enough about horses to distinguish several muscle groups and bone structures from others. He feels out of his depth. He’s drowning being so close to a dream he can never have. He wonders if he should ask her to stay. Tell her there’s reports. Witness statements. Paperwork. Anything to get her to stay longer, to prolong the closeness to the dream. The closeness to her.

The horse gives a bleated scream as Morgan passes with the handcuffed man, both human males looking equally frightened of the animal. It settles into a role of domestication as the girl lets the horse throw its head into her shoulder begging for pats.

Spencer knows he supposed to follow Morgan, but he can’t move. She’s everything in that moment. And just as he gets the courage to thank her, thank her for stopping the burning, she meets his eyes and drops her jaw.

“Well as I live and breathe!” she shouts. It’s too rough for a squeal, more of a whistle of her words. “Spencer Reid, not even a day’s difference. How in the hell are you?”

Is he breathing? He doesn’t think he’s breathing. She knows him. She knows him. She knows him. And he has no idea who she is. He searches her beautiful face. Running over the ruby lips. Over the pink blushing cheeks. The glittered eyelids and the long eyelashes.

She’s so unfamiliar it hurts.

Morgan stops in his tracks. There’s blood in the water for the first time in ages. The last time these waters were chummed was a bartender who called him exactly once.

And it gets worse. Her face falls. Emily and JJ are rounding the corner. Everything in him sinks to the floor. Every details about himself becomes apparent. He’s gangly and uncoordinated. His hair’s too long and he’s got circles under his eyes darker than the grease stains on her horse. He’s so unperfected and this girl reminds him of the girls in high school he could never have.

He wonders for a moment if she’s from high school. She can’t be though, he thinks as he fights the bile in his throat. She’s younger than me.

“You know boy genius?” Morgan asks, handing the killer off to Emily. He’s strutting. Ever the first impressionist. The girl barely glances at him, still studying Reid with a crestfallen little smile perched on her perfect lips.

“Not really,” she settles on, getting a better grip on the reins she’s holding. Getting a better grip on herself. “We met once. In Vegas. I was 15 and I’ve done my growing up since.”

Reid still hasn’t moved. He’s not sure he can. His feet are putty from the run. Putty from her smile. Just ask for her name, he screams at himself, but he can’t. There’s no guarantees. There’s no ‘of courses’, only ‘what ifs’. The what ifs can consume you and he’s worried he’s going to let them.

Morgan extends his hand in the stretching pause. And she shakes it. All crimson lips and pearly teeth. “I’m Agent Derek Morgan. You obviously know, Dr. Reid.”

Her eyebrows raise for half a second. She’s surprised. And impressed. And Reid’s heart warms for no longer than she answers. “I’m Shawn, Shawn Healy.”

“Shawn? That’s an interesting—“

Everyone pauses at the sound of hoofbeats. Whips around to see another girl, a blonde in even more glitter, ride up on her own horse. Shawn swings back onto her horse and spurs him off, following the other girl. Spencer doesn’t see the flags they’re carrying until it’s too late. Until she’s already apologising for leaving. She’s late.

Spencer wonders if he’ll ever see her again. Black curls bouncing over her shoulders. Stained lips. Sun glinting off every inch of her.

In another eight seconds, she’s gone. Eight seconds to win his heart. Eight seconds to ride off with it.

#

He gives Penelope some condensed version of the story that she’s hooked on anyway. She’s leaned forward, elbows on knees, perched on every word that leaves his mouth like it’s from God himself. It’s comical, he thinks. Spencer’s never really been invested in anyone else’s drama, not for longer than five minutes.

Penelope’s going to be invested, heels sunk in, holding on for dear life. She’s invested for life.

“So, how’d you get her back?” she asks. Starry eyed. Concerned. This is her white whale and she’ll go down with this ship. “She could’ve been anywhere! How’d you two get together?”

And he knows this part isn’t complicated. And it’ll be enough to tide her over.

#

The quick answer is that he googled her. Read every newspaper article, column, and paper mentioning her. Shawna Healy had been mentioned more times for winning rodeo competitions than he had papers published. She was accomplished in her culture, in her part of the world. She’d won up to regionals while in college. Even boasted to being the first girl on the UT Dallas Rodeo Team. Currently employed at Montgomery’s Cattle Ranch just outside of DC. The same ranch who was hosting a For-Charity Bull-riding Competition.

Spencer hadn’t known what to do with the information so he sat on it. For a month. Until he couldn’t wait any longer. The competition was that weekend. He had to go.

He just kept repeating to himself, this is for academic purposes. This isn’t stalking. You might not even see her. This is for—

And he stops thinking. There’s no reason to think anything other than: I’m sorely underdressed. He’s sinking to the bottom of the deep end of the pool, lead weights tied to his ankles. Every man, woman, and child here is nothing sort of their earned Country label. There’s boots and buckles and ball caps. There’s dust and dip and drawl.

And he’s in a cardigan. Why was that a good idea? He doesn’t know, but he’s tempted to shrug it off and disappear. To run right back out of gates. To get swallowed by everyone staring at him. Gawking at him. He’s back in high school again and he wants to drink bleach.

He’s almost to the bleachers, past the makeshift bar, just at the corner of the dirt arena. Spencer knows he should just go home, shake it off, and dissolve into wishing the world takes pity on him. He’s too out of his depth. These other people belong. He most definitely does not.

And just as he’s about to turn tail, pussyfoot out of every bit of confidence he’s ever had, when he sees her.

She’s on a different horse. One not quite as beastly as the other. This one’s mellow, waiting on the edge of the arena, while she’s chatting absently with another man on horseback. She looks different. She’s far, but there’s no glitter. No outstanding colours. No glinting under the fluorescents. She’s in a cowboy hat, tipped forward over her loose braids. She’s traded her button down for a flannel, rolled up to the elbows and he finally understands why Penelope said it was such a turn on.

There’s no words as the announcer suddenly comes on and a bull bursts from the chute. It’s one of the most terrifying things he’s ever seen. A tiny man holding onto a two ton absolute beast with one hand—it’s absurd! But he can’t stop watching. Can’t stop being impressed. Waits on bated breath for the man to get bucked off after his nearly eight second run.

He does and Spencer has had falls like that. They aren’t pleasant.

The bull bucks and kicks for another few seconds. Shawn and her friend lazily canter forward, guiding the animal back to the other side of the arena and through a gate. She whistles and the gate closes behind it.

The pair retreat back to their corner and the process starts all over again.

“You look a little lost, honey,” a sweet voice chirps beside him. He startles, head caught up in Shawn and every single perfect What If. This girl reminds him of a movie star he can’t remember the name of. Big blonde curls. Big eyelashes. Big smile. Tiny waist.

She’s amazingly beautiful. Amazing doll like. Amazingly…not his type.

Spencer still nervously smiles and clears his throat. “I kind of am.”

“Cardigan gave it away,” she giggles, turning him towards the edge of the stadium seating, dropping them onto the bottom row seat. “I’m Kaley Montgomery. My brother and my sister are this shift’s pick up riders.” Spencer nods along like he knows what she’s saying. “I tell ‘em I’m here to support them and my daddy—he put this whole thing on you know—but I’m just here to pick up cute cowboys.”

“I’m not a cowboy,” Spencer blurts. Her laugh is slick like the sugar in a Venus fly trap. He tries not to get drawn in, but she’s all encompassing. Bright perfume. Colourful clothes. Soft skin and warm empathy. There’s nothing uninviting about her and he wants to move back.

“No, honey, you aren’t.” Kaley pauses to look him over. Whatever she sees makes her softly grin. “Why are you here anyway?”

There’s no judgement. She’s safe and alluring and exactly the opposite of what makes him nervous at that moment. The confidence surges for a moment and he answers, “I’m actually trying to find this girl I met a while ago.”

“Must be a special lady. What’s her name?”

“Shawn Healy,” Spencer sighs. It’s wistful. It’s longing. It’s half desperate. It’s been a month since he’s seen her. A month since he snuck back to see if he could catch her at the rodeo one more tine.

Kaley snorts. Her lady-like instincts kick back in and she covers it was a giggle. “Honey, you met the right girl. Shawn’s like my sister. Her shift ends in a few rounds, and she’s meeting me here if you just wanna stick around for a second.”

And he does. Kaley keeps him laughing, has him singing the high praises of Rodeo sports by the end. It’s maybe another ten minutes. Ten minutes of calming down, easing into the world. Kaley looks like she has whiplash with all of the questions he’s asking. And she’s a little dazed when he blinks at her sheepishly.

“Told he was smart, didn’t I?” a voice says behind him and Spencer jumps out of his skin. He’s desperate to slip it back on without seeming desperate. Without seeming nervous. But it all melts. Shawn’s in front of him. Shawn’s grinning. Shawn’s even more beautiful without the glitter.

“How did you recognise me?” he blurts. There’s stumbling as he tries to backtrack. Shawn’s eyes are green this close up and she smells like leather and oats and apples. His sentences lose traction as she peels her hat off, and sits down next to him.

There’s nothing soft about her. She’s callused. Rough. Nothing like any other girl he’s ever had the pleasure of meeting. Spencer doesn’t need more than ten seconds to know that Shawn’s never worn glitter more than the one time and never will again. To known that Shawn is simple and complicated and every grey area he’s ever wanted to explore.

Shawn’s eyes are still and focused. She follows Kaley as the girl stands and leaves. Returns the gaze to Spencer with a glint he can’t categorise. There’s a pause. Lead up to another eight seconds of life changing to be done.

“You were sitting by yourself at a sorting event at the South Point,” she breathes, brushing a piece of dirt off the hat in her hands. Setting it beside her on the bleacher. She gives him plenty of time to stare. To appreciate her.

There’s plenty of time, Spencer thinks and he keeps her gaze with a nervous grin.

Shawn brushes a hand over the frazzled bits of her hat hair. “I came and sat next to you because you looked so lonely. You were so afraid.”

His brain fires and spits and roars to life. He can remember the strange girl who came to sit by him, a sea of empty spaces around him. He’d just committed his mom. Was just about to leave for MIT. He’d been swimming in a sea of self-hatred when he’d been greeted by braces and pimples and too much dark hair. She’d explained every second of the calf sort, almost unprompted, and sussed out every single one of his questions.

It had been as close as he ever dared get to being a cowboy. A decade later and she was every introduction to this world he’d ever had.

Shawn’s got two seconds left on the clock and she doesn’t disappoint. Her fingers are delicate as she places a precarious hand on his knee. There’s a soft pressure to his patella. Shawn’s touching him and he can’t help the shock.

“I had one of those day long crushes. You were the smartest man I’d ever met.”

And no words are suddenly good enough. He wants to tell her that he’s fallen in love now. That he can’t help it. That all he wants is to listen to her drawl on for the rest of his life. That she’d made that last week in Vegas bearable. That she’d been everything. Still was.

But there’s no good way to articulate that. And maybe she knows that. Maybe Shawn Healy was a profiler in a different life because she lets go of his knee and switches subjects. Leans back against the seat behind her, stretching out into the spot of sun.

“It’s my lunch break,” she announces, her boots drifting closer to touching his chucks. The eyes don’t matter as the bleachers stare. What matters is Shawn’s tricky smile. “Have lunch with me.”

He nods and doesn’t think he could bear to disagree with her. Shawn disappears for a moment long enough that he’s worried she isn’t coming back, but she plops french fries into his lap not a second later than the worry begins to fester. Shawn’s not one to back out of commitments, he learns, and ends up hearing enough bad stories that Spencer isn’t sure how they’re getting along so well.

Because they’re getting along so well. Too well. Like they’ve never stopped talking since she was 15 and he was 18. Three hours is too early to say I love you, but he’s thinking it as she talks through a basket of french fries. As she sneaks them to some tiny kids in even tinier cowboy boots.

He’s thinking it every time she laughs.

He’s thinking it as she shoves his shoulder and demands to know why he doesn’t own a pair of jeans.

He’s thinking it even as she stands and apologises and stuffs her business card in his shirt pocket. “We’ll get you cowboy’d up one of these days, Dr. Reid. Now, don’t you forget to call—I’m late again.”

She runs off and he can’t stop thinking I love you so much as she waves at him over her shoulder and once again when she’s in the arena, back on a new horse.

#

Penelope is near tears at the end of Spencer’s story. He relaxes into the new world he’s entering. The one, two years later, where he’s wondering exactly how much he can keep to himself. How much Garcia will suss out and how much he’ll tell her himself.

Penelope folds her arms and suddenly frowns. She’s got a bee in her bonnet and Spencer’s afraid of what it means.

“Shawn,” she murmurs to herself. “Spencer Reid is shacking up with a cowgirl. I can’t—I’ll see it when I believe it.”

This is her attempt to get Spencer to show her pictures, or call Shawn, or even bring her around. But he doesn’t. He just smirks. No matter how much he actually can’t work the phone in his hands, he doesn’t want to. Shawn’s worried enough about meeting the team, she doesn’t need one Penelope Garcia tracking her down and tackling her.

“How ever much I love this chat we’re having, I have to get back to work,” Spencer announces. He stands. Walks off before Penelope can ask more questions.

And despite all of her yelling and protests and shouting for him to just come back here and tell me if she’s your girlfriend, Penelope knows she won’t get anything more. She’s determined anyway, and plans to corner JJ later on.

She finds doesn’t have to ask JJ, cornered or not. Because not four hours later, does Penelope find one Dr. Spencer Reid admiring the diamonds on the wedding ring he’s holding up between him and the coffee pot. He’s quick to shove it in his pocket as Penelope enters the little kitchenette. Quick to stir sugar in his coffee like nothing’s happened. Like Penelope definitely didn’t see the ring he’s waiting to give Shawn.

“When did you get the ring?” she asks, quietly opening the box of tea.

“Promise not to think I’m crazy?”

Penelope nods, turning just enough to see just how love stricken the poor boy is. “I’d even pinky promise, my love.”

He smirks and softens and says almost so quietly she doesn’t hear, “It was about two weeks after our first date. It took about eight seconds to find the right one.”

I Am Your Future, I Am Your Past: Chapter 12

A Roswell New Mexico Soulmate AU

AN: I’m so sorry for not updating this. I hit a bit of a wall but had some lovely friends help me out. I’m starting to plan the rest of the story and it’s looking like it’ll be between 23-25 chapters. So hey! Halfway point! Anyway... thank you for reading and being patient with me!

Read on AO3 // Masterlist // Chapter 1

-

Alex checked the rearview mirror to make sure Michael was still behind him. He grinned and shook his head at how close he was tailing. Alex wasn’t one for road rage but even he was tempted to hit the brakes, just to freak him out a little bit.

Alex looked down at the map spread on his passenger seat. The reception would be spotty until they got to the cabin and hooked up the Wi-Fi. They should be coming up on the “driveway” soon. It was a hunting cabin left to him by Jim Valenti that he would visit with Kyle when he was young. The trees and boulders scattered around provided more than enough cover to play hide and seek.

He finally saw the small worn sign signaling the beginning of private property. He signaled and slowed down, remembering the trench that was near impossible to see just off the road. His car would be ok but would Michael’s old truck?

They hadn’t passed another car in at least ten minutes. He released a breath of relief that Forrest – or anyone else – hadn’t followed them. Then again, his father never knew about the cabin. Jim always kept it a secret between them.

The dust kicked up and obscured Alex’s view of Michael but he could see the dust from his truck in the side mirror. Five minutes later, the cabin came into view and Alex noted the young chinaberry tree he had selected to get some shade on the property. The leaves still a beautiful green even as the season was coming to an end.

He slowed as he pulled up. Putting the car in park, he stared at the small house. The wood rack on the side of the cabin was filled with wood left over from the landscaping. His eyes ran over the solar panels on the roof and down to the porch. He stared at the front door. He would be living here for who knew how long. Alone. With Michael.

Michael’s truck rumbled up next to him, pulling him from his daydream. Alex folded the map and put it back in the glove box before stepping out of the car. He walked up the steps without looking at Michael, pushing the key in the lock and opening the door.

The place would need to be dusted but most of the furniture was covered with white cloth. He felt Michael’s body heat step up behind him. He still jumped when his fingers brushed his arm. Alex moved in further, trying to seem as natural as possible.

“Start pulling covers off of things and I’ll get the power going,” Alex said, heading to the back storage room. He didn’t hear a reply from Michael but he felt the confusion through the mark. But if Alex could feel the confusion, couldn’t Michael feel his nerves?

His reaction to Forrest this morning had been real. He was beyond pissed but the feelings had already taken root. He was searching for a reason to forgive him. But he had kissed Michael a few days ago and it wasn’t as though he regret it. It felt more right than anything else but he wasn’t entirely convinced that it wasn’t residual feelings from the vision they shared.

He pulled open the fuse box and started flipping switches. His eyes landed on the spot where Michael had kissed his hand. It felt like it was burned into his skin. He shook his head and continued messing with the fuses.

Alex flipped the last switch. Nothing happened for a moment. Suddenly sparks flew as the fuse short circuited. He jerked his hand away but the sparks burned his skin and he hissed in pain. He cursed under his breath as he held his hand to his chest. The pain faded quickly and he looked down, not a single burn was left.

He spun and rushed back to the main room where Michael would be. His eyes scanned the room and he saw Michael sitting on the couch, jaw clenched and gripping his hand, watching the burns appear.

“Michael! I’m so sorry. Come on, we need to run that under some water,” Alex rushed out, grabbing his arm. He followed without protest to the kitchen sink. Alex turned on the water and listened to the pipes groan before water spat out.

“I appreciate the sentiment, Alex, but it’s just a small burn. I’ve gotten worse working on cars,” Michael teased gently. Alex ignored him and grabbed his hand carefully, pulling it under the cold water.

They were both silent as the water ran. Alex’s heart raced at the warmth of Michael’s skin under his fingers. The heat rose to his cheeks as he pulled the cabinets open, looking for a towel. He pulled one out and shut the water off, handing it to Michael. He hurried to the lone bathroom in the bedroom where the first aid kit was.

Alex spun to go back to the kitchen and ran into a firm body. Michael’s hands held on to his waist, keeping him from stumbling back. Alex looked at his face for the first time since they arrived. Michael’s gaze burned as he glanced down. His heart pounded in his chest, just like Alex’s.

“Why are you avoiding me?” he asked.

“I’m not,” Alex insisted, though he could hear the lie in his own voice.

Michael didn’t say anything back. Just released him and walked out of the bathroom. Alex’s shoulders dropped with a sigh. Being around Michael was like all the air was ripped from his lungs. The only solution his brain could ever come up with was to step closer until they were breathing together.

Alex followed him out, glancing at the bed in the middle of the bedroom. He and Kyle had always slept on air mattresses in the living room. He hadn’t considered that he and Michael would have to share the bed. He shook his head. He would have to sleep on the couch.

“Michael, let me bandage your hand,” Alex said as he stepped back out the front door.

“It’s fine, Manes.” His last name was like a slap in the face. Wasn’t he the one who said he didn’t want to do that anymore? He yanked the passenger side door on his truck open, pulling out his bag and box of stuff. Alex stared at the truck as he kicked the door closed and walked past him.

He blinked a few times before turning and following him back inside. What had he done to piss him off? Alex didn’t want to think it was just because of the slight avoiding.

“Michael—”

“Is your car still unlocked? I’ll grab your things,” he said, cutting him off. Without waiting for an answer, he was walking back out the door.

Alex clenched his fists. Why wouldn’t Michael just talk to him? He heard the slamming of car doors and soon Michael was carrying in his bag and headed to the bedroom. Alex followed him again.

“Hey,” he tried again.

“I’ll stay on the couch. And I can run back to town for food.” Michael tried to push past him.

Alex’s nose twitched and he grabbed the door, slamming it shut before Michael could leave. He jumped and raised an eyebrow at him. Alex stared him down, refusing to be the one to look away first.

“What are you so mad about,” Alex demanded. Michael scoffed and shook his head.

“Seriously? I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone do such a complete one eighty on their feelings. One minute you’re furiously protective and the next you’re horrified at the idea of even being around me.”

“Where the hell did you get that idea?”

“You avoided me and then tried to lie about it. Message received loud and clear. I feel everything, Alex. I can make an educated guess about what you’re thinking.” Michael grabbed his hat off his head and ran a hand through his hair. “You regret yelling at Forrest. Because fuck you actually still have feelings for the guy. After everything he did. So just forget it.”

Alex was frozen. Only moving to allow Michael to leave the room. He didn’t understand how Michael could have such a clear picture of his emotions when Alex could barely pick up on his. He gripped his shirt over the mark and heard the truck start outside.

He closed his eyes and tried to focus. He tried to reach out mentally. To decipher which emotions were his and which were Michael’s. Everything was tangled together but it was like two different colors. Alex a vibrant blue and Michael a muted green.

He picked through the anger and confusion. Separating the betrayal and the annoyance, the desire and love. The love… swimming in the background of every emotion, refusing to be separated.

-

A week passed in discomfort. Alex and Michael talked but never about anything important. Michael slept on the couch and refused to let Alex take a turn, insisting that he’d be a terrible person to make the one missing a leg sleep on the ‘lumpy piece of crap.’

So Alex moved around the kitchen, emptying the case of eggs to make a couple omelets for them both. Michael groaned from the couch, blanket tossed lazily over the lower half of his body. Alex had gotten used to seeing him shirtless but he still couldn’t control his heart if he let himself stare too long.

“I told you that you could sleep in the bed,” Alex called to him as he sprinkled cheese onto the eggs.

“And I told you that I wasn’t going to let you sleep on the couch,” he responded with a grunt. His bare feet padded up behind Alex before shifting to walk to the fridge. Alex glanced at his back and let his eyes follow the muscles to where his pajama pants started. Then he refocused on the food in the pan.

“We could just share the bed you know. It’s not like it’s small.” The silence that followed the suggestion was almost enough to make him want to take it back. The food sizzled and Alex shifted it with the spatula.

“I figured you would rather not. You can hardly stand to be in the same space as me.”

Alex sighed. He was still convinced that he was avoiding him. And maybe he had been but it was over now. Alex couldn’t avoid him when they had to live together. The easiest way to get through this was if they were at least friendly. Friends could share beds. Girls do it all the time. At least, according to Liz, Rosa, and Maria.

“Michael. Believe it or not, I do enjoy your company,” Alex snapped. He hadn’t meant for it come out as harsh as it did but this argument had been going on since the first day. Even though they had hardly discussed it. Enough was enough.

“Oh yea, that’s convincing.”

“Well maybe if you stopped being a jackass for a second and listened to me. You can read my emotions Michael, not my thoughts. And I think you’ve severely misinterpreted them.” Alex shut off the stove and placed the eggs on a plate before turning toward Michael. HE stood with his arms crossed, a slight frown settled firmly onto his face.

“Well enlighten me. What have I misinterpreted?” he bit out sarcastically. Alex shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. He sighed before he started speaking.

“I care about Forrest, yes.” Michael scoffed and began to turn away. Alex grabbed his arm. “We were friends Michael. Probably on our way to something more. What did you want me to do? Sit and wait patiently for you to decide I’m worth it? You rejected me. And I don’t blame you for that. We didn’t exactly leave things in a good place.”

“Friends?” Michael laughed. “You knew him for maybe a week.”

“From what I remember we only knew each other for about that long back in high school.” Michael’s eye twitched as he looked away from Alex. “Michael. I care about you. There is no doubt in my mind about that. But I can’t shake this feeling that maybe it’s just left over from the visions.”

Alex watched Michael’s eyes soften. He released his arm hesitantly, hoping that he wouldn’t bolt for the door. Michael ran a hand through his hair before leaning back against the counter.

“I’m not avoiding you. I just don’t know how I’m supposed to feel around you.” Michael’s gaze seemed to turn intense. Alex couldn’t help but blush.

“Why don’t you try explaining it,” Michael said.

Alex turned away from him, grabbing the food he had made and bringing it to the table. He set it down in front of their respective chairs before sitting down himself. Michael followed suit, sitting across from Alex. He pushed his food around with the fork, debating how to explain this. Couldn’t Michael just read him? Wasn’t that the point of the mark?

“I… I’m nervous. Being around you has always made me nervous. And it’s even worse now.” He started.

“Why?” Alex felt naked. It was a reasonable follow up question but he was terrified at the answer. He couldn’t even lie to make it less awkward.

“Because feeling you… your emotions. They’re so clear all the time and I… I hate knowing that mine are the exact same way for you.”

“So you search for any wall you can put between us. And right now that happens to be Forrest.” Alex looked up at him briefly before refocusing on the food.

“Yes,” he mumbled. “This curse pushes us together. And me wanting you this badly… it can’t be natural.”

It was silent for a while. Neither of them eating a single bite of food. Alex froze as Michael’s chair scraped across the floor. His bare feet padded along the wood until he stood next to him. Alex looked up at him, heart pounding. Michael brushed his fingers over the mark beneath Alex’s shirt. His breath caught in his throat.

“And yet you’re the one thing that does come naturally to me.”

Then Michael stepped away, taking the breath from Alex’s lungs with him. He left the food on his plate as he walked toward the master bedroom. After a few minutes, Alex could hear the water of the shower. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to calm his racing heart.

“Why do you have to say things like that?” he mumbled to himself.

He picked at his food for a few minutes, just listening to the water running in the background. Eventually he stood and put both plates in the fridge, figuring they would want to eat later. Had that conversation even solved anything? He still didn’t know how to talk to Michael and his own feelings didn’t magically make sense.

Alex walked to the front room and sat on the floor for his daily stretches. He grimaced but pushed himself down anyway, pulling his legs into a butterfly position. He took deep breaths as he counted to ten, only flinching once.

He was on his back, pulling his leg into his chest when the water stopped. The idea of stopping never crossing his mind. His eyes closed to concentrate on his breathing and pain management. Alex had shifted to his other leg when Michael wandered back into the front room. Alex felt his pulse jump.

Alex opened his eyes to look at him. His hungry eyes could have started a fire under his skin. His hands gripped the t-shirt he was holding. Alex cleared his throat and pushed himself into a sitting position. Water dripped from Michael’s curls onto his chest and Alex felt his mouth go dry.

“Don’t stop on my account,” Michael teased. Alex hoped the blush on his face wasn’t visible.

“I was done anyway.” Alex would have stood up by himself. He was more than capable. But Michael wordlessly offered his hand, black t-shirt tossed over his shoulder. He wanted to smile and say ‘no thanks, I can do it’ but he grabbed Michael’s hand instead.

Michael pulled him up faster than he was expecting, making him stumble forward. Michael’s free hand landed on his hip, keeping him steady. Alex couldn’t look away from his eyes. At least not until he found himself tracing the lines down to his mouth and the way they were just slightly parted.

Michael’s hand was warm and Alex guessed his lips were too. He wanted to close the distance but wasn’t sure if it would be welcome. He looked back up at Michael’s eyes, getting lost in the golden brown. Michael’s thumb slipped under the hem of his shirt, rubbing over his skin gently.

Michael was the first to pull away, clearing his throat as he did. He moved back toward the kitchen, pulling the shirt over his head. Alex just stared at the spot where he stood. He should have known better than to think their conversation would have fixed anything. Did Alex even want to kiss him again?

Yes. I want him.

He shook his head and walked into the bedroom for his own shower. He couldn’t trust his own desires. If it wasn’t real, then what? If they broke this curse and Michael felt nothing for him, could he really live with that? Or what if his own feelings vanished and he hurt Michael? He couldn’t handle that either.

It would be best for them to stay separate for now.

-

There was no way Alex didn’t know what he was doing. Michael tapped his fingers on the counter as the microwave spun. Alex talked about his stretches but always did them while Michael was out. Watching the way his muscles moved under his clothes was more than he could take. He almost turned right back around for another cold shower.

He hadn’t expected Alex to actually accept his help when he offered it. So he pulled harder than he meant to and there they were. Face to face and Michael wanted more than anything to close that distance. Alex had wanted it too. But based on the conversation they had, he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

The beeping of the microwave pulled him back from the daydream. He groaned and pulled the food out. He supposed he couldn’t blame Alex for thinking the way he did. It was even possible that he was right. No one knew how the curse worked.

He ate his food slowly, listening to the water running and opening himself to feel Alex’s heart. He glanced toward the cracked bedroom door, just visible from where he was sitting. His phone buzzed in his pocket with a text from Izzy.

How’s the honeymoon?

Michael’s heart skipped a beat. This wasn’t what this was. Sure Alex had agreed to it but he knew how he hated being trapped. Work could only occupy so much of his time and surfing the web was never really his thing.

It’s hiding Iz. Not exactly fun. He messaged back.

Have you guys at least figured out that whole consummation thing?

He stared at the message. It was obvious what they needed to do. But something like that…

Michael was comfortable with casual sex. Always had been. But with Alex it could never be just casual. He couldn’t ask Alex to do that just for the sake of maybe ending the curse without going through all the trials. Not to mention that Michael’s heart wouldn’t be able to handle having him once and then never again. He had denied himself for seven years. It was only easy now because he was used to it. But his control was withering every day.

No. He sent back.

If he told Isobel, he didn’t trust it wouldn’t get back to Maria. She was smart and had probably figured it out already but he didn’t want to hurt her by hearing it from a person she didn’t even like.

Look, do I need to send DeLuca over there to get your ass in gear? I swear she’s more invested in this than you are.

Michael pinched the bridge of his nose but couldn’t help but help smiling. She really was amazing. He only hoped that someone else would see it eventually. Someone just as strong to be her partner.

I’ll talk to Alex. He mentioned having some theories. No need to have her make a special trip.

His phone was silent after that. He wondered if Alex would be willing to look into the stone again. Maybe there was something they missed. Maybe it didn’t have to be sex. But calling forth the spirits of Samuel and Thomas was exactly what was making Alex hesitant. Going back in would only push them further apart.

The sound of water no longer came from the bedroom. Michael stood to clean his plate before Alex came back out. He hurried out the front door, needing to think about how he would talk to Alex about it. He laughed at himself as he stepped off the front porch. Of course it was sex. That was how these stories always went.

The sunlight made him squint as he moved to the side of the cabin where all the wood was stacked. An axe leaned against the wood next to the pile. Most of the logs probably didn’t need to be cut but he needed an excuse.

He moved to grab the axe just below the window. It was when he looked through the small crack in the chiffon drapes that he knew he was done for. Alex’s bare back moved fluidly. There was no doubt he had muscles but he was still soft. Michael wondered if he would still make the small whine he used to when he squeezed his hips.

Michael tore his eyes away before he got too lost in thought. His jeans were quickly becoming too tight. He cursed under his breath and grabbed the first piece of wood on top of the pile.

-

The next couple days came and went, and Michael still hadn’t brought up the idea of the consummation or what they should tell Isobel. He had caught Alex looking at him curiously a few times but he never said anything either. He was running out of time. Eventually Isobel would come storming through the door demanding to know the details of the vision.

Alex was frowning at his laptop when Michael pulled out the chair to sit across from him. He only glanced up a moment before refocusing on his work. Michael just sighed and pushed the lid of the laptop down slightly.

“We need to talk.” Michael watched as Alex’s shoulders stiffened. He closed the computer gently before leaning forward on his arms.

“About what?” Alex asked. Michael sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“The vision, Alex. Isobel wants to know how to break this curse. What do you want to tell her?” Alex looked away from him, his heart rate jumping.

“Maybe it’s not what we think it is,” Alex offered unconvincingly. He picked at his nails and his nerves were overwhelming any other emotion Michael might be able to read.

“Did you want to go back into the vision?”

The blush on Alex’s face was cute. Michael would never get tired of seeing it. But this wasn’t the time to focus on it. Alex’s embarrassment told him all he needed to know. Going back into the vision wasn’t the answer.

“We have to come up with something, Alex. Isobel already threatened to send Maria to help us figure it out.” The guilt that swept over his face made Michael’s heart ache. Not that he didn’t feel guilty about it but he couldn’t ignore his feelings for Alex.

“Just tell her to keep it a secret,” he finally said. Michael watched the way his hand clenched and wanted nothing more than to be able to reach over and grab it.

“Isobel? Keeping a secret?” Michael tried, joking. The glare he received in response reminded him just how close Alex and Maria were. He let his tone turn serious again. “I can ask her to keep it but I can’t promise anything. I know you don’t want Maria to know because neither do I. But eventually we won’t have a choice.”

Alex stared at the table, the wrinkle between his eyebrows only getting deeper. Michael tuned in as much as he could to the emotions swirling between them. He only wished that the uncomfortable tension that permeated everything could be broken.

“Do you…” Alex started. His fingers began tapping on the table. The embarrassment was front and center again. “Do you want to… consummate?” His voice was barely above a whisper.

There it was. Out in the open. Michael wanted him but if it was under the guise of ‘consummation’…

“No.” Alex jumped at the suddenness of his voice and a quick flash of hurt swept through him. “If we’re going to sleep together, I want it to be real. Us. Not some means to an end.” Alex looked away from him, seeming to bite his tongue. “What are you thinking?” Alex was right when he called him out for making assumptions about Forrest. And maybe this communication thing worked better than guessing.

“Will it ever be ‘us’? Isn’t all of this a means to an end?” Michael’s heart panged with hurt. Hadn’t he made his feelings clear that night they saw the vision?

“We came here for protection, true. But even if it was safer to be apart, I don’t think I could stay away from you.” Alex shoved his seat back and jumped up, groaning as he ran his hands through his hair. He paced around the kitchen, sounding angry but Michael couldn’t miss the way his heart fluttered.

“Stop. You can’t keep talking like that.” Alex yelled. Michael stood slowly and slipped his hands into his pockets as he stepped toward Alex.

“Like what?”

“Like you fucking care about me!” Alex spun to face him again, glaring. “You say these things that I don’t know what to do with! And your damn heart…”

“Why is it so hard to believe that I care? That I’ve cared for the last ten years?” Alex stepped back as Michael moved forward. Eventually Alex’s back hit the counter. His eyes jumped everywhere except to Michael’s face until he was standing right in front of him.

“Don’t…” he mumbled out halfheartedly.

“Only if you stop lying to yourself.”

Michael trapped him between his arms, his shallow breaths brushing over his lips. He kept leaning forward slowly. If Alex really wanted him to stop he would. But instead of pushing him away, Alex’s hands landed on his hips. His fingers trembled and Michael watched his eyelashes flutter closed. Their foreheads pressed together. Michael could feel both of their hearts racing as their lips brushed over each other.

A loud knocking on the front door made them jump apart. They both panted as they watched each other. Michael waited for the person to go away, his fingers twitching as the desire to touch Alex only grew. More knocking, then a voice.

“Alex! Michael! Open up,” Maria called. They were both frozen. Michael replayed the conversation they just had in his head. He couldn’t believe Isobel would actually send her.

Alex moved first. Composing his face and hurrying to open the door. Michael stared at the space on the counter. The squeak of the door opening made him turn around. He could only hope his face wasn’t covered in guilt.

Maria pulled Alex into a hug. He held her tightly for a moment, a gentle smile settling on his face.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad to see you. But why are you here?” Alex asked.

“Isobel said you two were dawdling on figuring out your visions so I’m here to help. I am a psychic after all,” she said, winking. She looked toward Michael and he could almost watch her thought process play out on her face. How she was supposed to react to seeing him. But eventually she just grinned and moved further into the cabin, looking around.

“This place is much nicer than I was led to believe. How long have you kept this a secret, Manes? Why didn’t we use this to get drunk and smoke in high school?” Alex just laughed and shook his head.

“Uh, probably because in high school, Jim Valenti still used it regularly and he was the sheriff.”

“Got a point there.” Maria shoved the blankets and pillow to one side of the couch before plopping down. “Michael I sincerely hope you aren’t making Alex sleep out here on the couch.” Michael just rolled his eyes and chuckled.

“Actually Alex sleeps on the floor. No bed in this place.” Her look of disapproval just made him smile more. “Come on DeLuca, who do you take me for?” She just shrugged and crossed her legs.

“Apart from the sleeping arrangements, did you bring a book or something to help us decipher the visions?” Michael watched as Alex tried to hide the fidgeting of his hands. His own heart rate speeding up to match.

“I did bring books but I just figured you could tell me what the visions were and I could point out common metaphors and connections. It would make things go a lot faster then all of us sitting here in silence reading.”

Alex glanced at Michael. They had agreed to tell Isobel. Did they really want to make this leap? He thought on his feet. He wanted Alex to make the decision about when to tell her. They were best friends after all.

“When did you get so close to my cousin anyway? You two always hated each other.” Now, he could have been wrong but he swore he saw her blush. She shrugged it off quickly.

“Hate is a strong word, Guerin. And since all this curse stuff, she’s been weirdly helpful and almost nice.” Alex sat down next to her on the couch while Michael plopped down in the rocking chair across from them.

The silence seemed to stretch on forever. Michael was trying to control how often he looked at Alex, only noticing it because Maria was there. She glanced between the two of them and sighed before pulling a book from the bag she had brought with her.

“We can sit here all day. But I’m not leaving until we figure this out.” Alex scratched his head before taking a breath and speaking.

“It’s just… the visions are… Personal. You shouldn’t be subject to that,” he said, trying to dissuade her.

“Look. I know you two better than anyone. Nothing you tell me could possibly be that bad.”

“It’s not bad, per say…” Alex trailed off.

“The visions aren’t us. They’re the original pair of Samuel and Thomas. And their feelings for each other… they’re intense,” Michael continued for him. Maria raised an eyebrow and leaned forward.

“What’s your point?”

“It’s often a lot of stuff that wouldn’t be talked about…” Alex tried again.

“Oh for fucks sake,” she exclaimed. Both Michael and Alex jumped at the outburst. They shared a surprised look. “Sop walking on eggshells around me. I love you both. Truly. But watching you try to spare my feelings by hiding your own just makes it that much more obvious.”

Alex wrung his hands together, refusing to meat Michael’s eyes. He could only sigh and face Maria again, who just looked annoyed.

“I’m sorry. I should know better than to hide things from you.” She just grinned and leaned back, crossing her arms.

“You already know what it is don’t you? This consummation?” Michael just nodded. Maria sighed and pushed herself up from the couch. “Well then get your ass on the phone with Isobel because quite frankly, I’m done dealing with her pacing and ranting about what a terrible team player you are.” The floorboards squeaked under her boots as she moved toward the kitchen.

Michael looked back over to Alex. His eyes were focused on something a million miles away. His emotions swirled around him, as though he were trying to keep them to himself. Everything was out in the open. They had been called out by the one person they were both lying to.

“You guys keep any food or do I have to make it?” Maria asked as she opened the fridge. Michael stood and moved to the cabinets, shuffling through them. He finally found the one with the snack food and stepped to the side.

“There’s some protein bars and cookies in here but otherwise you have to make the food.”

-

Maria hung around for the day. She didn’t press for more information about the consummation but the looks she was shooting at both of them made Alex’s nerves spike every time. She knew. There was no way that she didn’t.

She didn’t seem mad. Quite the opposite actually. She seemed lighter and more free than he had seen her in a while. The stress of trying to figure out this cure was taking toll on all of them and her most of all. Alex knew that Maria loved both of them. He was sure having the two people she’s closest to in constant danger of dying wasn’t an easy thing to deal with.

Michael had gone grocery shopping. Alex offered to come with and every time Michael said no and left without waiting for him to respond. It was annoying but he was sure the reason would be something about his protection.

Instead he and Maria played cards. She had always been weirdly good at poker.

“There’s no way you aren’t cheating,” Alex joked, tossing his cards to the table.

“Sorry babe. This is all natural talent.” He rolled his eyes at her and pushed the small pile of quarters toward her.

“I guess I should just be happy you didn’t want to play strip poker.” She fluttered her eyelashes to an exaggerated degree.

“As beautiful as you are Alex, you’re not really my type anymore.” Alex just snorted and started shuffling the deck again.

Another few games brought just as much success as the others. That is to say, ‘none.’ Maria let herself do a small happy dance that Alex noticed resembled Liz. They had been hanging out a lot more and he felt terrible for how little he saw them.

“Hey…” Alex started hesitantly. Maria’s expression turned serious almost instantly. She placed the cards to side and leaned forward.

“It’s ok you know.” Alex met her gaze. She just smiled before continuing, “It’s ok that you like him. I probably knew somewhere deep down that we weren’t meant to last. He was always just out of reach. Holding something back.” He rushed to shake his head and he grabbed her hand.

“No. Michael loves you. And he will always love with everything he has.” Her sad smile broke his heart. The guilt ate at his gut. He couldn’t do this to her. He and Michael couldn’t do this to her.

“As true as that may be, it’s hard to give everything when you’ve already given it to someone else.”

“Maria…”

“And that’s ok, ya know? I want him to be happy. And I want you to be happy. And if you are happy together then who am I to tell you ‘no?’”

Alex stood and moved to stand next to her. He grabbed her hand and pulled her from her chair and into a hug. Her arms wrapped around his waist firmly. He smiled against her hair, wondering how he got so lucky to have her as a best friend. She pressed a sweet kiss to his cheek and wiped a stray tear from her eye.

“Someone is going to come along and give you the world.” She chuckled and straightened her back.

“Oh please. No one needs to give it to me when I can just get it myself.” Alex laughed and hugged her again.

The sun dipped below the horizon, splashing vibrant purples and pinks across the sky, eventually fading to blue-black. Alex pulled Maria outside to the fire pit in the back of the house. He was building a log cabin out of logs when he heard the rumble of Michael’s truck. Maria offered to go help him with the groceries and left Alex to light the fire.

A gentle breeze blew across the desert, tangling his hair. He would need to cut it soon. He wasn’t technically out of the service and that demanded he keep it a certain length, even if he liked it a bit longer.

He picked up a fire starter and laughed at himself. If he really wanted to, he could do without it. But he did like the convenience of not needing to survive. He crouched down and picked up the lighter after placing some small kindling in with the starter. It burned fast and jumped to the nearby logs. Alex just watched as the flames licked up the sides of the mini cabin he had built.

Dizziness swept over him, making him fall backwards into the dirt. The fire seemed to burn brighter as the black started to creep in at the edges of his vision…

-

Thomas stared into the fire, the warmth permeating into his bones. His father was going to be angry but he didn’t really care. Since that night Samuel had first kissed him, it was all he could think about. Samuel hadn’t made another attempt either. They spent as much time as they could together but that was it.

Samuel had convinced him to sneak out and there he was. But nothing had happened. The fire snapped and Thomas glanced up to the other man. He worked on skinning a rabbit he had caught for dinner.

“I’m sorry you have to eat peasant food when you’re with me,” Samuel said, making a cut to remove the insides.

“It’s alright. I’m sorry I never think to bring you a real dinner.”

The silence stretched a bit longer. Eventually, Samuel was tying the rabbit to a stick and placing it over the fire. He picked up a scrap of fabric, wiping the blood from his hands. He came to sit next to Thomas, watching the flames dance.

“Samuel… Why are we here?” He asked hesitantly. Samuel shifted next to him, leaning against his shoulder.

“I just wanted to be with you in a place where we don’t have to hide.” Thomas wrapped his arms around his knees, resting his chin on them. He fought against the grin that threatened to overtake his face.

“And yet it feels like we are hiding,” he said, only half joking. A beat passed before Samuel reached around him to pull him close. His lips pressed to his hair gently. Thomas sucked in a breath, the heat on his cheeks no longer from the fire.

“Then don’t hide. Tell me what you want.” Thomas looked up at his best friend. He was in love with this man.

“Kiss me,” he whispered.

Samuel moved slowly. Trailing his hands over his arms and up his neck to rest on his face, cupping his jaw. Samuel leaned forward, just barely brushing his lips against Thomas’. They both sighed at that first touch. With Samuel’s breath tickling his face, Thomas leaned forward.

His heart threatened to beat out of his chest the longer they stayed pressed together. Eventually Samuel pulled back and Thomas let out a small whine. It wasn’t enough.

“Again.”

He felt the smile on Samuel’s lips when they pressed against his again. It was firmer this time as Thomas wrapped his arms around Samuel’s waist. They pulled at each other. Bodies searching for any way to get closer.

Thomas ended up on his back, the beautiful man hovering over him. Samuel made sure to press the whole length of his body against his. He kissed him again, rocking his hips slowly.

They were so lost in each other, Thomas hadn’t realized just how close to the fire they were. He grabbed at what he thought would be dirt and grass but a red hot burn made him yelp and shove Samuel away from him.

He gasped and gripped his hand to his chest, tears threatening to fall. He cursed under his breath as his hand throbbed in pain.

“Follow me. Now.” Samuel demanded, grabbing his arm.

He pulled him along for a couple minutes before the sound of running water could be heard. A small creek glittered in the moonlight. Samuel yanked him to the ground again, shoving his burned hand into the cold water. Thomas hissed but the cool water began to ease the burning of his hand.

“I’m so sorry. I wasn’t paying attention,” Samuel said quietly. Thomas just shook his head.

“It’s not your fault. I wasn’t paying attention either.” Thomas reached up with his free hand to brush some curls out of his face. “You are the only thing I can ever focus on.” He turned his head into his palm, kissing it.

“I would take this injury for you if I could.”

-

Alex yelped and scrambled away from the fire. He blinked rapidly as the past fell away and was replaced with the desert of New Mexico. His left hand burned. The same one as Thomas. The one that his father crushed on Michael.

He looked down at his palm. It wasn’t bad but it would be difficult to use. Before his eyes, the red started to vanish until it was like it had never been there. Alex ground his teeth together and pushed himself up, running inside the cabin.

Maria was watching Michael in both amazement and horror. Michael’s grimace as he watched the burn appear pissed Alex off more than anything. The problem was that he had no one to be mad at. The Gods? Tessa? Himself?

Alex clenched his fists and hurried wordlessly over to Michael, grabbing his arm and pulling him toward the sink, just like he did on the first day. He turned on the cold water, forcing his hand under the stream.

“Did you see the vision?” Alex asked quietly.

“Yea,” was his only response.

“You two just… shared a vision?” Maria stammered out. Alex looked back at her but she was focused on Michael’s burnt palm. Were the visions going to become a regular thing? Now that they were more connected to their past lives, would the spirits become restless as they demanded to see their proclaimed soulmate?

“How long was I zoned out?” Michael asked her. She shook her head and squared her shoulders.

“A couple minutes maybe? What was the vision?” She tried to hide they way her voice wanted to shake. Alex smiled at her and shook his head.

“We’ll tell you another time. I think you might need time to process what you just saw.”

“No! I’m here to help you with this exactly so…” she trailed off as her eyes fell to Michael’s hand again. Michael shut the water off and wrapped his hand in a towel as Alex pulled Maria toward the living room.

“Maria, listen to me. This is a lot. Knowing it happens is one thing. Watching it happen is another.” She nodded slowly. “You’re welcome to stay the night…”

“No. I should go home… I… I need to talk to Isobel about this.” Alex wanted to question but he figured now wasn’t the best time. She pulled her shoes on in silence, only looking back when Michael came to stand next to Alex. His hand was wrapped in bandages, covering old and new wounds alike.

“You don’t have to go,” Michael tried one last time. She just shook her head and smiled sadly at them.

“I do. I’ll be back soon.” Then she vanished.

They listened to her truck kick up dirt as she pulled away. Alex jumped when Michael’s hand touched his arm gently but he didn’t pull away. Everything that had happened just before Maria showed up still stuck in his mind.

He had wanted Michael so bad that he forgot that it might not be real.

“Will these visions show up more now?” he asked softly. Michael sighed.

“I don’t know.” Alex turned to face him, trailing his gaze down his body to his bandaged hand.

He took it gently, turning it so his palm was up. He ran his fingers over it gently, careful not to push too hard. Before he knew what he was doing, Alex lifted his hand to his lips, kissing his palm.

shipwreck au and bodysnatching

shipwreck au is...what it says on the tin! a light-fantasy au where michael washes up on the shore near where Alex, a retired naval captain, lives in a small cottage. Michael has amnesia and they fall in love while Alex nurses him back to health, though they think Michael’s former life means they can never be together...

For a moment, the part of Alex that had grown accustomed to his comfortable civilian life wanted to turn back. Let some other unhappy soul discover what awaited further down the beach, in the hollow of the cove where the tide carried most of its blessings, most of its curses. Alex had seen enough death already. He didn’t want it to come to his home with a desperation so keen he almost turned tail and fled.

But no. If there was even the slimmest chance of a survivor…

He sped up his gait instead.

Sure enough, when he rounded the jut of rock that separated the cove from the rest of the coast, even from this distance he could see the body of a man prone, limp and facing the sun, clothes torn by the waves. Alex scrambled down the slope as quickly as he could without losing his precious footing. As he grew closer, he saw the pinkish tinge of blood on the lapping tide, and his dread grew heavier.

Many sanctuaries in his life had been ruined in one way or another by bodies on the waves. He endured.

But no--from feet away it was apparent that the man’s chest still rose and fell, and closer still Alex fell to his knees, cane placed carefully out of the way of the tide, to check his pulse. It beat faint but steady, and even as Alex bent over his body, the man’s eyes opened to slits, squinting in agony, squinting against the sun. One side of his face was horribly scraped, likely from washing ashore. The majority of the blood, however, came from a gash low down near his hip, on the outside of his thigh, and Alex sucked in a breath at the luck that kept such a cut from slicing a few inches inward and causing the man to bleed out entirely.

“I’ve found you, you’re safe now,” he swore, squeezing the man’s shoulder even as his other hand hurried to press his scarf against his wound.

“Who--” he rasped, then made a jerking movement, one that frightened Alex back an inch--but he was only grasping at his own chest, scrabbling in the salt-stiff shreds of his thin white shirt until his fist closed over a golden ring on a chain and he relaxed, eyes fluttering closed again.

A married man, then, or possibly a widower. Whatever the case, a man with a keepsake such as that was likely a man with a family. People would miss this man, and it was Alex’s duty to care for him now.

“My name is Alex Manes. Whatever you’ve endured, I’m here now.”

and the bodysnatching fic is a season 2 rewrite where Jones is possessing Alex lol

Michael, hands shoved in the pockets and eyes shadowed by his hat, stared at the bright horizon. Lost in thought, Alex imagined, sad in the pit of his stomach at how near-certain he was that Michael’s mind was still running that same track, wondering why he hadn’t been brought into the world in 1947.

I’m glad you came out when you did. I don’t know who I’d be if I hadn’t met you. 

It was on the tip of his tongue. It was too impossibly cruel to let slip. Who was he to be happy that Michael had to grow up alone, that he never had a family. Alex was the poster child for family not being all it’s cracked up to be, but even he could recognize how those words would sound.

(It was also so true Alex choked on it.)

He sat down before Michael did so he didn’t have to do the calculus of how close he was allowed to sit, almost jumping out of his skin when Michael joined him, joined him close enough their legs almost brushed. His heartbeat thudded in his ears.

Profile was Michael’s best angle--or Alex would think so, if he hadn’t seen him from so many other angles, in so many other ways, in so many other lights, and in complete and utter darkness. Still, this was an image of Michael he carried with him; the strong ridge of his nose, the slope of his brow, the line of his jaw and the curve of his lip. Finer than any statue in any museum Alex had seen all over the world.

Another sigh. This was getting fucking maudlin, all the romantic thoughts wrapped around his axles for a man who was beyond done with him.

I don’t think we’re good for each other, Alex. And I want to be good for someone.

Fuck.

Either 15 from Fluff; “You saved me.” Or 48 from Angst; “Wake up! Please don’t do this to me.”

Hehe. You gave me an angst prompt. This was a mistake.

So I decided to do something completely different with this. I had the sudden inspiration to write something not for my main AU... but instead for that ridiculous Red Dead Redemption/Frankenstein crossover AU that I'm now affectionately dubbing Undead Redemption because I have absolutely zero creative talent.

No I'm not planning on actually seriously pursuing this AU. But uh... this prompt made me think of it so I decided to write for it! This... this is a doozy of a piece. Be warned... it’s.... intense. It’s also pretty long so... sorry about that. (needless to say - I chose the angst one)

TW: Blood, character death, murder, hysteria? panic? something like that

~~~

The town of Strawberry was charming - well worth the travel, Henry thought. Remote, but certainly not too much so, as the larger town of Blackwater was only a half-day’s ride away. Surrounded by pine forests and brisk with a mountain’s breeze, it was a quiet town of bare-log houses and little in the way of amenities. A rushing stream cut through the town’s center, turning a large wheel which likely produced what little electricity could be found there.

Henry smiled as he rode down the dirt road, his red roan mare plodding along patiently until he pulled her to a halt at the hitching post in front of the house that was to be his lodging for the week. “Ata girl,” he cooed softly, ruffling her mane with his hand before dismounting. She shook her head with a snort, and rested one hind hoof on its edge as she settled in to stand for however long it would be until she was to be ridden again. Henry reached his hand into his pocket and pulled out a sugar cube, holding it out to her with a flat palm, and she gladly snatched it up. Chuckling at her eagerness at the scent of a treat, Henry pat her on the neck and pulled her reins over her head, tying them securely to the hitching post. Though he was giddy at the thought of adventuring through Mount Shann over the next few days, today was to be a day of rest before the excursion, so he took his time unloading what little he had brought with him into the house before retiring to a sturdy wooden chair on the porch to watch the townsfolk go about their day. Part of him was itching to retreat further up the rocky hill behind where he was staying and sit in the woods to write as the sun set, but he was aching after a day of riding and he was far more inclined to stay and rest.

The evening was quiet yet cheerful, until out of the corner of his eye, Henry caught sight of what appeared to be a massive shadow approaching the town from the northern road - one that sent townsfolk scattering and shouting as they all shut themselves into whatever dwellings they could, some choosing instead to hop onto their horses and gallop off. Now thoroughly curious, Henry stood and squinted to get a better look. That shadow turned out to be a massive draft horse, the tallest he had ever seen, with what looked to be an even taller person sitting atop its back. As the stranger rode past the sheriff’s office, Henry could see the sheriff open the door, then quickly shut it again the moment the stranger turned his head to look at him. The odd figure continued on, then halted his giant steed in the middle of the road and dismounted, resting their hand on the horse’s neck and slowly sliding it away as they began striding down the road. As the stranger approached, Henry could hear the jingling of spurs and a sudden chill went down his spine. At about the midway point from the road to the porch where Henry stood, the stranger stopped. His hair was long and black and billowing like the tails of his heavy dark leather duster in the wind, and his face covered by the rim of a black cattleman’s hat that was tipped downward to hide his eyes. “Clerval!” The voice that echoed through the streets was clear and cold as the rushing stream it rose above, yet pitched somewhere between roaring thunder and the creaking of old pines. Henry felt his hair stand on end at the sound of his own name, but he kept his composure and slowly descended the steps, standing a distance from the stranger on the road.

“Is there something you need from me, s-” Henry felt his breath catch in his throat as the stranger slowly raised his head and pulled a dark bandana that covered his mouth and nose down with one gloved hand. Even from a distance, beneath the shadow of his hat’s brim, the stranger’s eyes seemed to glow a dull yellow, sickly and pale yet burning bright enough to be visible from afar.

“The eyes! Those horrible eyes!”

“Victor! Victor, compose yourself! What eyes?” Henry held Victor tightly as the scrawny scientist writhed in feverish agony and pointed toward the wall.

“Surely you can see them! There! The fires of hell burn within them!” Henry looked up and surveyed the empty room with worried eyes.

“Victor… love there’s nothing here,” he reassured him. Victor broke from his grasp and tried to stand, only to stumble backward again.

“Yellow! That dreaded yellow glow- he’s returned for me! He’s- he…” He suddenly went silent, eyes still bugged and wild as he collapsed onto the ground. Henry desperately wanted answers, but… whatever had happened, whatever Victor had seen to haunt him in such a way, it was still far too traumatic of a memory to be discussed. With a heavy sigh, Henry gently picked Victor up off of the floor and carried his limp body to bed, where he laid him down and kissed his sweat-covered forehead tenderly.

“Just rest, Victor. No one is here to hurt you. It’s just me. Everything will be ok.” He took Victor’s clammy hand and held it tightly. “So long as I am here with you, I’ll make sure of that.”

“Who- What are you?” Henry managed to ask as the memory passed through his mind. The stranger’s gleaming eyes seemed to widen, then narrow again. His left hand, which was bare unlike his right, pushed aside the leather of his duster and revealed a pistol holstered on his hip. The fingers that hovered over the pistol’s handle were long and bony with a mixture of pale and discolored skin. Henry felt his heart jump at the sight, and he instinctively raised his hands. “Sir I mean you no harm,” he reassured him. “Just… tell me who you are and how you know me.” The stranger hesitated, and Henry saw in him a sudden moment of weakness.

“I-” The stranger’s voice broke as he began to speak, and he faltered. “I am no one. I am nothing.” Henry’s racing pulse began to slow, and he cautiously stepped forward.

“Everyone is someone, everyone is something.” The stranger’s hand fell back and he dropped his head.

“Not me, Henry. Never me.” Henry felt a sudden sense of sympathy toward him. Surely this was the man Victor was so afraid of, and yet… he seemed so sad, so alone, much more like a lost child than a fearsome demon.

“Maybe not now, but if you let me help you, maybe we can find where you belong,” Henry called to him softly, slightly lowering his hands as he approached. The stranger took a step back. “May I ask your name?”

“I have no name,” was the stranger’s hushed reply. He raised his gloved hand and removed his hat, revealing his face. A scar with obvious stitching ran diagonally down it, and though his raven hair primarily covered over it, another ran along his forehead, and two more ran from his ears to about midway down his jaw line. Henry felt himself taken by the shock of the sight, but he showed no fear as he continued to approach. “Your Victor never gave me one.” Now finally putting the pieces together, Henry’s hazel eyes widened.

“So he finally did it,” he murmured. “He managed to create life from death-”

“And then leave it to die,” the creature interrupted. Henry could see tears streaming down his papery-skinned cheeks.

“I can see you’ve been through so much,” Henry pointed out sympathetically, lowering his hands further. “You can talk to me. I won’t hurt you.” The creature’s chest heaved and his eyes clenched shut as he turned his face away.

“No, no I certainly think you won’t.” In one swift motion, the creature pulled the pistol from its holster and held it cocked, pointed in Henry’s direction. Henry jumped, raising his hands up again as his heart began to race. Though his gun was pointed, the creature seemed hesitant. His hand shook and his face was still turned away. For a moment, he lowered his gun and he wiped the tears from his eyes with his gloved hand.

“You don’t want to do this,” Henry muttered, suddenly filled with a strange mixture of fear and empathy. “You don’t have to do this.”

“That’s just it, Henry,” the creature whispered. His eyes lifted to the red painted sky of dusk. “I have no choice. There are consequences for his actions. A price must be paid as reparation for what he’s cost me.” There was a sudden shift in his expression that made Henry feel his blood run ice cold. “And that price is you.”

He barely felt the bullet when it hit. All there was, was the deafening sound of the shot and the screams that rose from the buildings that followed, the flying open of doors and windows to see what had happened, the terrified whinnies of horses, and a sudden gush of something onto his hands which instinctively flew to his chest. As he fell, he saw the creature become unsteady, nearly falling himself as the smoking pistol fell from his hand, before tensing and letting out an unearthly cry that seemed to echo through the still dusk air. He could see the creature’s stallion turn from the calm shadow he was into a panicked wreck of a beast, pawing and pacing and rearing onto his hind hooves. The creature himself turned and ran, jumping back into the saddle. As he turned his horse around, he looked over his shoulder to Henry one last time with a sorrowful look in his yellow eyes before placing his hat back onto his head and spurring his steed into a swift gallop until he disappeared over the hill beyond.

Hooves pounded on the dirt road that led to the western side of the town, kicking up dust as horse and rider flew down the path. Victor’s eyes kept a steely gaze on the town entrance ahead, his heart racing. As he had been walking down the road, there had been a sudden exodus from the town, with folks high-tailing it out as fast as they could, and he knew something was very wrong. Though his silver gray Kladruber mare was pushing just about as hard as she could, the sound of a gunshot spooked Victor into kicking his heels into her sides hard. She leaped from the pain of it with a panicked neigh, her ears pinning back as she kicked her legs out and pushed into a faster gallop than she had ever managed in her life. Tearing past the arch of the town entrance, Victor tore at the left rein, and his mare nearly tripped over herself as she made as sharp a turn as she could and tore over the bridge that led to the other road. The moment they crossed, Victor watched as one figure stumbled back and another far taller, ran and disappeared over the hill on his mount. Yanking back on both reins, Victor forced his mare into a skidding stop, leaping off her back before she had even fully stopped and racing to Henry just as he fell. He caught him in his arms, but struggled to hold up his weight and fell backward himself. Frantically, he tore the bandana from around his own neck and pressed it hard against the wound that spilled with blood. “Stay with me Henry,” he muttered, though he felt he was going to be sick. “Stay with me, come on, stay with me.” Henry coughed and sputtered, but looked up at him with a strained smile.

“Victor- it’s- it’s ok,” he wheezed. Victor pulled the bandana back slightly to inspect the wound.

“I’ll need to get that bullet out-” He paused, wildly searching around. “Is there a doctor in this town?!” he exclaimed, searching for any sign of a practice that might have the tools he would need. Henry suddenly gripped his arm.

“Victor, no,” he whispered hoarsely. “Don’t- don’t…” His voice trailed off and his breath grew more ragged. Tears began streaming down Victor’s face and his vision started to blur, his heart pounding hard in his chest as panic coursed through him.

“Somebody! Anybody! Help!” he cried out. A few terrified but curious townsfolk began opening their doors to see what was happening. Henry suddenly twitched and sucked in a deep breath, his eyes growing wide. Victor gripped him tighter, pressing harder at the wound. “No- no no no- Henry!” In his arms, the body he held convulsed, and after an exhale and another sudden sharp inhale, it went limp, and once bright hazel eyes stared coldly up at him, sightless. “Henry,” Victor croaked his name, his hand falling from the wound and taking the lifeless hand of the one he held. “Henry please…” he whimpered, choking back a sob. “Wake up! Please don’t do this to me,” he begged. The warmth from the body he held was already beginning to seep away, and the skin began to grow cold. He was gone. Truly, completely gone. There were no longer any thoughts in Victor’s mind. Everything was as blank and empty as the soulless stare from the lifeless eyes that seemed to pierce through his soul. In a blind state of panic, Victor dropped the body and stared down at his hands. He stood, shaking violently as he stared down. Blood dripped from his fingers, but he could barely see it as his vision was so hazy and unclear. He gripped at his face hysterically, smearing blood over his hair and skin. The sudden feeling of it and the realization of what it was sent him into utter turmoil, and he let out an inhuman shriek, stumbling around in blind panic and screaming until he tripped over the corpse’s outstretched arm and fell into the dirt below. As he writhed, a mess of blood and tears, he felt himself go numb, and with one final cry, his eyes rested back on Henry’s lifeless stare and he drew in a ragged breath. Panic turned to searing rage, and he grit his teeth. Around him, a few townsfolk had gathered to check on his condition, but their voices were drowned out by the pounding of his own heart, and his sight faded away to white as his consciousness slipped away.

Stars and Gray Skies

Fit in another request for the night! @toxic-lavender requested “You are my sunshine” and I finally got something for it. Hope this is along the lines of what you’re looking for! Please enjoy!

“Do you miss her?”

Snatcher turned the page of his book, refusing to look down at child craning her head back as she perched in his lap.

“The deal was, if you were going to be a nuisance, you would be a silent nuisance.”

“But do you?” Hattie leaned back into his chest.

He ignored her.

“Do you?” She reached up and waved her hand in front of his eyes. “Do you? Do you? Do you?”

“Kid,” he huffed, taking her hand and pushing it away. “Stop.” Sighing, he finally met her wide eyes. “Miss who?”

He knew who she was going to say before she said it, of course. How couldn’t he?

“Vanessa.”

The name still sent involuntary shivers down his spine.

Readjusting his position so she couldn’t notice his tremble, he closed the book and poofed it away with a snap of his talons. He propped an elbow—or the approximation of one—on the armrest and leaned into his talon.

“Why do you care?” His grin stretched up his face.

“We’re contractual BFFs!” Hattie scooted around, sitting crisscross applesauce on his lap. “We’re supposed talk about things.”

“Things?” Snatcher repeated tiredly, hoping if he put off answering her question long enough, she would forget about it.

“Things that make us happy or sad.” Hattie shrugged.

“Oh yeah?” Snatcher lowered his voice, a mischievous look on his features. “That sounds like information I can use for blackmail!” Or the Death Wish Contracts he gave her. “Well then, BFF, what makes you sad?”

“Stars,” she answered, picking at a stray fuzz on her boot.

“What?” His mouth dropped, his smile faltering. He hadn’t expected her to actually answer. She sounded genuine too. Why on Earth would stars make an alien sad?

“I remember this one time,” Hattie began, bouncing her knees, “that Bow and I, back home—”

“Bow?”

“My friend! She wears a big cute bow,” Hattie explained, “but anyway, we were stargazing one night before we got our assignments. We saw a shooting star and I wished for adventure and she wished for a challenge. We thought we would get to fly together but…” Hattie sighed, “her assignment was to learn how to build and maintain engines while mine was a piloting mission.”

“So…” Snatcher raised his brow, “Wishes coming true made you sad? Not stars?” He plucked her hat off of her head and ruffled her hair before placing it back, “You gotta be wary of the good old monkey’s paw!”

“The what?” Hattie wrinkled her nose and took off her hat. She placed it in her lap as she fixed her messed up hair.

“Short story. Bit above your reading age.” Snatcher smirked.

“Hmm,” Hattie hummed thoughtfully before hugging her hat to her chest. “It wasn’t just the wishes, but the fact that, because of them, we were separated and had to do different jobs.”

“And stars remind you of that?”

“Sort of. I also once got caught in the gravitational pull of a star that turned into a black hole.”

She said it so casually he thought she was joking at first. They stared at each other as he waited for the punchline. When it didn’t come, he shook his head in disbelief.

“You did not.”

“Did to!” Hattie blew a raspberry before laughing. “It was scary, but I got away! It actually happened a little bit before I got stuck here.”

“You actually almost died in a black hole?” Snatcher clasped his talons together, frowning.

“Yeah,” her voice got small. “I… It was so dark there. I was scared I’d never see the sunlight again, or constellations, or Bow.”

He pictured this kid, tiny and who trembled when he had first caught her in his trap, escaping a black hole all on her own. It wasn’t hard to imagine her accomplishing such a feat. It was hard to see the sorrow that had settled on her features, recalling how alone she had been. With something flickering in his chest, he started to reach out. But she bounced on his lap, looking up with smile, and he recoiled, scowling.

“Okay! Your turn! Do you miss Vanessa?” She asked. On the surface, she seemed as cheerful as she could be, but the ghost who once upon a time lived a life wearing smiles constantly, he could pick up on the slight hint of clouds threatening to obscure the light of her countenance in an instant.

He let out a heavy sigh, caving.

“Alright, alright, give me a second.” He glanced away, thinking. “Gray skies.”

He peeked at her slightly confused look, but she remained silent, patiently waiting for him to elaborate.

“I remember gray skies cleared when she laughed. I remember when I was at law school, her letters brought with them warmth and sunshine. But then… her letters stopped, and the gray skies remained.” He rubbed the back of his neck, scratching at his shadowy fluff.

“I remember I loved her. And she loved me,” he continued. “Once, she called me her sunshine after I painted a picture of the moon.” It had made him so happy, to feel like he could offer the same comfort she gave him.

“You’ve showed me the storybook,” he sighed, “so you know about the cellar.”

He remembered the horrible things she had spat at him, while he was chained. She had yelled about how he loved another. He hadn’t. And she screamed how he had shattered her heart. He hadn’t meant to.

He spared a glance upward, meeting Hattie’s eyes.

“I might miss the times that felt like—” like sunshine, “—but I know I can’t go back,” he finished in fragments. “I guess… gray skies are my stars.”

Hattie held his gaze for a moment before crawling forward and wrapping her small arms around him, resting her head against his fluff.

“Kid! What—”

“Snatcher, I have a confession,” she whispered into his mane.

“What, Kiddo?”

“It’s not really stars that make me sad, it’s all the ways they remind me that eventually I’ll always have to say goodbye.”

The shadow froze.

He thought about grey skies, and how colorless the cellar and chains had been. He thought about the white snow and shadows in the trees. He thought about the first nights braving the blizzard as a wandering ghost, fading and sleeping in the cold only to wake up to an absence in his arms.

He thought about Hattie, the bright kid who shone like sunlight, leaving to go home.

He thought about the contracts he kept making, trying to get her to stay.

“I also have a confession,” Snatcher admitted, “I think I was just talking about goodbyes when I said gray skies, too.”

“We’ll always be best friends, though, right?” Her voice was so quiet, he almost didn’t hear. “Like me and Bow?”

Hesitating for only a moment, he finally returned her hug.

“You did write forever into the contract, Brat,” he teased. “So, I guess so.”

She nodded, tightening her hold.

They both dreaded the thought of goodbyes.

“For every star that falls,” Snatcher began, patting her back before she pulled away, “a new one lights up the night sky.”

Though small, a genuine smile found its way onto her features.

“And no matter how cloudy it gets, the sun is still there,” she added. He smirked and flicked her hat, nearly knocking it off her head.

“Hey!” She leaned back to grab it, laughing.

“Now, don’t you have some of my minions to torment, or something?” He cleared his throat, summoning his book back.

“Will you read to me later,” she asked, jumping off of his tail.

“Only if you can complete another contract,” he said, knowing he would read for her whether she did or not.

“I’ll tell you when I’m ready!” She called, before running off to play. Eyes on his book, he smirked, listening to her call out to the subconites.

They both dreaded the thought of goodbyes. But for now, it wasn’t time to part just yet. For now, they both still had a reason to smile.

A Villainous Meeting

 “Good morning, my fucklings!”

 Verosika Mayday, the pink succubus, strolled into the room, wearing her high heels, heart-shaped sunglasses, short black and white dress and her faux pink scarf. She blew a bubble of pink gum before spitting it out in a nearby trash can. The fellow employees sat at a cracked black round table with bloodstained high-backed chairs with eyes on the tops. The Wrath Ring imp Striker merely smirked and nodded as he fiddled with the wheat stalk in his mouth. He wore his usual gray and brown cowboy gear with a hat and boots. Fizzarolli, the robotic jester imp, looked around eagerly at the small office room decorated with circus posters and porn magazine covers. Verosika was shown in a seductive pose with her gang on one poster, while another poster showed a sinister Fizzarolli with handcuffs advertising a “Loo Loo Land’s Fizzy Buddy, Brand New Vibrating Toy, Use At Your Own Risk!” A few pictures here and there displayed Striker riding his black hell-horse BulletProof through the desert with a mane and tail of fire. Finally, Vortex, the dark grey hellhound bodyguard, stared at his phone, wearing all black clothing.

 They were located somewhere in the Lust Ring under a pink sky in an abandoned building that looked like a warehouse from the outside. Spray-painted in red were the words “D.I.C.K. Headquarters,” on the door to the office.

 “Remind me why you choose “dick” to be our name?” Striker muttered to Verosika.

 “It’s spelled D.I.C.K. It stands for Demonic Immediate Crazed Killers,” Verosika replied. “Figured it described all of us well, because we do what I.M.P. does, only better.”

 “You and your sexual innuendos,” Striker began, and then winked. “I like it.” Fizzarolli giggled.

 Verosika cleared her throat. “Do any of you fuckers know why we’re here?”

 “Because I took this job after you and I got drunk and did a one night stand?” Striker asked with a smirk.

 “No!” Verosika bellowed in anger, though she knew it was true. She then blushed and stepped back. “I drank too much beelzejuice after returning back from Earth, alright? And you happened to be there staring at me with lust in your eyes with a bottle of Inferno 66 in hand. Let me tell you, sucking prisoner dick with your gang is worse than eating shit out of a toilet. Besides, I needed some time to recover after having to walk around after Blitzo took my parking spot. When we were together, he left me to pay for the hotel room, rang three rings around Wrath and maxed my credit card...”

 “…on shitty horse-riding lessons, yeah yeah, I got it,” Striker said with a wave of his hand. “You told us the story like five times.”

 “Is it because that imp was so jealous of my accomplishments at the circus that he set all of Loo-Loo Land on fire and allowed my robotic counterpart Robo Fizz to get eaten by a dragon?” asked Fizzarolli.

 “How did you hear about that?” Vortex asked without looking up.

 Fizzarolli turned nervous. “My boss Mammon heard about the incident and was furious. He said that unless I helped boost sales, fix the theme park and capture him…”

 “Yeah, I know how you feel,” Verosika sighed. “My gang and I got a bunch of warnings and threats from daddy Ozzie.”

 “You mean Asmodeus?” asked Vortex.

 “Yeah. He wasn’t very happy that I nearly exposed the humans to the existence of demons. We go topside in disguise to feed on their lust every spring. If Blitzo hadn’t kept that fact secret…well let’s just say Valentino pales in comparison to what Ozzie can do to you.”

 Everyone shivered at the prospect of the Ring Overlords’ plans.

 “To answer your question, Verosika, it is because I failed to kill that pompous owl prince Stolas?” Striker asked. “I was this close to finishing off that wimp imp and persuading Blitzo to join me. He’s a formidable fighter, and he’s half succubus.”

 Verosika crossed her arms. “There’s nothing special about him. He just pushes people away when they get too close and only cares about his job, murder and his stupid horses!”

 “Hmm…he’d be a fun little toy to play with,” Striker mused as Fizzarolli smirked. “We can all agree on that, right?”

 Everyone but Vortex murmured in agreement.

 “Yes,” Verosika called, shoulders square. “That is the reason why we’re all here. Because of them!”

 Verosika pointed to the whiteboard which had pictures of Blitzo, Moxxie, Millie, Loona and Stolas pinned on it. Several knives were stuck inside the pictures and scribbles in red on the white board read “Fuck I.M.P.!” “Striker Is Better Than You!” “Fizzarolli Was Here!” and “Verosika, Call Me For a Good Time!”

 “And I’m gonna led this shit!” she added.

 “What makes you the leader?” Striker inquired with a raised eyebrow.

 “I’m not the leader per se. Stella organized this group and Striker recruited us,” Verosika explained. “Though I’m technically higher than imps, sinners and hellhounds, so I say the position is a good fit.”

 Striker scowled. “We get treated like scum in Wrath enough as it is. I ain’t gonna play nice if you don’t show me some respect.”

 “Prove to me you’re better than that scumbag Blitzo.”

 “I already did…in bed at the club, remember?”

 Fizzarolli laughed much to Verosika’s disgust.

 “While I will admit it felt amazing, that’ll be the last time I ever sleep with an imp. And I certainly don’t need some rogue cowboy to get in the way of my revenge.”

 “Need I remind you, missy,” said Striker, “That I’m the one who recruited you and the jester in the first place? After you were getting over your hangover, you told me to fuck off or else your friends would have their fun with me.”

 “Yeah, and?”

 “I then noticed your heart tattoo on your shoulder with “Blitzo” crossed out. Then I asked, ‘Having imp problems, too? Wishing to see a certain imp?’”

 “And I said ‘no, none of your damn business, imp.’”

 Striker continued, “But then I told you, ‘I’m on a covert mission to take down a worthless royal…and to meet up with I.M.P.s leader. Perhaps I could offer you my services to you, monetary and otherwise, if you could tell me more about him.’”

 “Yes and I did,” she said. “I remembered Robo Fizz back when I worked in the circus with Blitzo and figured he’d be a good person to talk to.”

 “Hmpth,” Fizzarolli interrupted. “His business may be impressive, but his jokes were utterly pathetic! I got to be the star of the shows while he got to be alone and unloved! Ha!”

 Verosika briefly stared at him. “You sure you didn’t get jealous because Blitzo left you behind and made more money killing people?”

 Fizzarolli turned slightly red. “What?! No! How stupid are you?”

 “Perhaps smarter than you think,” Verosika remarked, her boobs bouncing slightly.

 “Get a room, love-fuckers!” Fizzarolli mocked to Striker and Verosika. “At least I was the first villain to appear in the show! First is the best! And my Ring is higher than yours!”

 “Oh partner, even a sex bot like you…”

 “I’m not a bot!”

 “…could never handle what’s under these jeans.”

 Striker smirked and continued the story. “Then I told slutty clown about Blitzo and he seemed to understand who he was,” said Striker. “I said, ‘A Goetia is giving me cash to kill a royal and that imp leader from I.M.P. What do you say we bask in riches, glory and chaos?’”

 “I remember saying, ‘Is this a scam? Loo Loo Land must be fixed!’” said Fizzarolli.

 Striker recalled what he said back to Fizzarolli,“’Mammon sent you off on a mission, didn’t he? Just like Asmodeus gave a warning to Verosika and what Stella did to me. All our stories and failures are connected. Connected because of what those imps did. If you can help me track down I.M.P. and that prince…no more worries for you.’”

 “The show must always go on,” mused Fizzarolli. “It wasn’t like I had many other options. As long as my boss is satisfied…”

 “And mine…” added Verosika.

 “And mine…” added Striker.

 “Indeed, we must all complete this mission, or else we’re all dead,” Verosika finished.

 “Double dead,” Vortex corrected in a low voice, making the others shiver. “The Seven Deadly Sins do have angelic weapons. You’ll wish you were frozen in the Ninth Circle.”

 “Hell only has seven,” Fizzarolli added.

 “Shut up.”

 “Loo Loo Land burned down, Asmodeus and Mammon got together, we took the Hellevator through the Ring portals and the rest is history,” said Verosika. “Now I’m stuck with an imp and a robot.”

 “I’m an imp!” Fizzarolli protested.

 “You’re just a robot,” Verosika replied.

 “With partial robotic features! The model for all Robo Fizzs made by Mammon himself!”

 “Still just a sex toy,” said Verosika.

 “A useful one, nevertheless. One who Stella herself deems valuable, right Striker?”

 “She did say to me, ‘I don’t care who you have to go through.’ Never thought I’d be dealing with a bunch of hooligans from other Rings,” Striker remarked.

 After several minutes of loud arguments and hisses, Vortex barked loudly. “Shut the fuck up!”

 Everyone then sat down in silence before Vortex stared at his phone again. “I never get paid enough for this shit,” he muttered.

 “Somebody tell me any useful information about I.M.P. before I lose my shit!” Verosika barked, almost going into her demonic shadow form.

 “The only reason why I’m here,” said Striker, his voice turning calmer and darker, “Is for my money from Stella. And revenge of course. Let me tell you where I think Blitzo will be at next.”

 The villains crept closer.

 “I came to the Lust Ring because I heard from Stella that this is where Stolas likes to “entertain” himself as it were.” His glowing eyes spiraled in yellow-green hypnotic circles. “Rumor has it that he goes to Ozzie’s place to cheer himself up. Heard he suffered quite a breakup from his dear hurt wife. And to have Stella potentially gain custody over his dear daughter…man that must’ve broken that bird’s heart.”

 “Oooh what a charming little theater!” Fizzarolli remarked. “Stripper dances, pole dances, lots of lustful siren songs. Winged imps serve you food and other imps are in cages for display! Hahahaha! It is almost as good as the Big Top in Loo Loo Land!”

 “Was, you mean,” Striker smirked before the jester seethed.

 “I still perform there,” Verosika said. “When I’m not traveling around the Rings on tour. Lust is my home, after all.”

 “Greed is mine!” Fizzarolli said.

 “You already know where I’m from,” said Striker. “No one fucking cares.”

 “Mammon and Asmodeus heard the news as well,” said Fizzarolli. “I heard Stella had a meeting with them at midnight last night. That was before we all got our orders to come here to Lust.”

 Vortex looked up in concern. “It’ll only be a matter of time before Lucifer hears about this, too. Not just about the trouble I.M.P. has caused, but now that humans know of Hell…”

 “Let’s focus on one problem at a time,” said Verosika with a deep breath. “We’re in no rush. It’s not like our leader’s gonna call us and demand…”

 Just then, Verosika’s pink computer beeped and rang.

 “Shit,” she muttered. “It’s her.”

 Everyone straightened up as Verosika pushed a button. Stella’s angry white feathered face appeared on the Zoom/Doom screen. She scrutinized all their faces with pink glowing eyes, her face appearing on the screen.

 “Striker,” Stella began, her golden crown shining on her head. “So this is the gang you recruited?”

 “Yes ma’am!” he grinned.

 “Hmm…” she pondered. There’s you…there’s some clown imp, there’s a fine-looking succubus…from who knows where…”

 “The clown is Fizzarolli or Robo Fizz,” said Striker. “The succubus is Verosika.”

 “Working for a queen, Striker?” Verosika asked. “How…”

 “Long story, I already told you,” Striker said. “She’s desperate…”

 “You bet that’s right!” Stella barked. “Then again, I’m…mildly impressed that you managed to get such a…diverse crew together.” She didn’t bother to hide her disgust. “Well done.”

 Striker beamed with pride.

 “But we’re far from done! You have no idea how long I’ve waited to properly unleash these feelings in me.”

 Fizzarolli giggled and Striker elbowed him hard.

 “That stupid prick of my husband thinks he can sleep all he wants with that assassin imp…in our fucking bed behind my back! If he stays any longer, my family will be a laughing stock. I’ll be stripped of my royal status and goodness knows what bad influence he’ll have on Octavia.”

 Stella paused, brief hurt in her voice. She didn’t dare cry, though. “Sometimes I wish he didn’t have to die. That all three of us could be a good family again like we once were. He could’ve been a proper responsible father, kept the grimoire safe from the imp, and none of this would’ve happened.”

 Fizzarolli cried tears at the rant while Vortex rolled his eyes. Striker yawned. Verosika, however, seemed to listen with a common understanding. She and Blitzo had been together and then they were broken up and fighting. Although she wanted power and revenge like Fizzarolli and Striker, she knew what it was like to get the short end of the stick in a relationship.

 “Then again, I was forced into marrying Stolas millennia ago by my parents. It’s obvious I’d concern myself with status and wealth and hold my resentment inside.”

 ‘All that wealth, all that power,’ thought Striker, greedily. ‘Watch her talk on and on until the rug slips from under her feet…and the glory becomes all mine!’

  “I love my daughter and Stolas…I really do…but…I must do what has to be done!” Right then, her regal imposing side was back.

 She stared into their eyes, glaring at Striker in particular. “First of all, if any of you land a finger on my daughter, I’ll make sure your screams are heard by every Ring in Hell. She must not be harmed. But…if I have to use Octavia as leverage as a last resort to bring Stolas to his knees…then so be it. I don’t care what we have to do…I just want him dead. Do you all understand?”

 “Yes ma’am,” said Striker. The others nodded.

 “Good. Now to review the plan. Stolas and I recently had our breakup. He will be going to the same place he always goes to when he’s upset: Ozzie’s place. If you spot I.M.P., follow them, but do not attack yet.”

 She continued. “Striker, your objective is the same: kill Stolas with your angelic weapons. Keep them safe in your hands at all times, but eliminate anyone who gets in your way.”

 Striker already glowered at Fizzarolli and Verosika who were staring closely at his pistol.

 “If you use it on anyone else important,” Stella said, suspicion already in her eyes. “I’ll fuck you with your own horns.”

 Striker nodded, with the tip of his hat.

 “Verosika, you will track down Blitzo and distract him inside the club,” said Stella. “Use any manipulative means necessary to catch him off guard. Fizzarolli, you and Asmodeus will sneak behind Moxxie and take down the other I.M.P. members. Verosika’s crew and some Robo Fizzs will also join in.”

 She added in a sing-song voice, “You’ll all receive an extra bonus and royalty favors if you bring me their heads!”

 Fizzarolli grinned. “This is gonna be so fun!”

 “The rewards. Striker, you’ll be rewarded by me for killing Stolas. 10,000 souls or more. And a new home in Wrath for you and your family.”

 Striker had to roll his eyes. He didn’t have a family anymore. He didn’t just want 10,000 souls. Now that he thought about it, he wanted much more.

 “Fizzarolli, Loo-Loo land will be repaired and you’ll get to lead future productions in Lu Lu World. Plus money, your own brand and perhaps…” she whispered so only he could hear, “…freedom.”

 “Oh goody!”

 “Verosika…more tours, more sex and money for you. You’ll be the star of every Ring in Hell.”

 Verosika grinned and fluffed her long pink-white hair.

 Stella smirked in a manner unfit for a queen. “And to make things a little more fun…as a way to show Stolas what his infidelity means…a special prize for the first one to kill Blitzo for me…”

 She playfully massaged her boobs under her pink dress. All the villains minus Vortex blushed in delight and shock as they knew what she was implying. Verosika’s gang in the far back of the room watched while eating popcorn. Vortex made a face of disgust.

 Seconds later, Stella was regal again. “And you there, dog!” Stella called, making Vortex look up. “Verosika has a special assignment for you.”

 “What?” he asked.

 “Keep a close eye on that loony hellhound of theirs,” Verosika grinned deviously.

 Worry was etched onto Vortex’s face as he nodded. Though he had a girlfriend, he had found Loona adorable at the beach on Earth. He couldn’t believe what he had to do now.  

 “I’ll keep you updated on Stolas’ whereabouts and when it’s time to move,” Stella finished. “Do not disappoint me.”

 The screen went dark.

 “Well, that’s a wrap folks,” said Verosika. “Meeting dismissed. Fuck around, get some sleep, we have a big day tomorrow.”

 Verosika took out her phone and began texting.

 “Who are you texting?” Vortex asked.

 “There’s this pink southern succubus sinner named Martha,” Verosika grinned. “She says she leads an army in the name of Satan and they want blood after being killed by you know who on Earth. Ralphie and her two kids live with her there. She also wants this Mayberry sinner dead.”

 “What does that mean?” Striker asked.

 Verosika grinned. “It means…we have a potential ally in the Pride Ring!”

 “Awesome!” said Fizzarolli. “Their enemies keep growing and growing!”

 The villains laughed.

 “With so many souls seeking revenge, I.M.P. won’t know what hit ‘em!” Fizzarolli cackled.

 “Yes, but let’s focus on our main mission first,” said Striker. “Perhaps we’ll have the honor of getting to them first!”

 The villains laughed again and retired to bed.

 ‘This plan better work,’ Striker thought. ‘Because Stolas’ blood will not be the only blood that’ll be on my hands soon enough…’