Magic Disagrees

by RedHoodie21

Rating: teen
Tags: Sunset Shimmer, Twilight Sparkle, Profanity, Twilight Sparkle (EqG), Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Alternate Universe, Human, Romance, Comedy, Equestria Girls
Length: 15742

Twilight Sparkle doesn’t believe in magic. Magic disagrees.

Twilight Sparkle is a scientist first and foremost. If it exists it can be explained using science and math, she knows it.

Magic will have to drag her kicking and screaming into believing in it. A promise it is willing to keep.

Published 2024-10-18 16:40:00 UTC
Last updated 2024-12-13 20:18:50 UTC

Sunset Tries to Annoy Twilight Into Believing Magic

Sunset Shimmer was inhuman. There were no ands, ifs, or buts, about it. Sure, she passed as a human on the street, even developed human mannerisms and speech in her everyday life, but she was decidedly not human. Anyone could have told you that.

There was something just off about her that no amount of makeup and clothes and turning a blind eye too could hide. It was the same off you’d get when you see the presence of a predator, but not the animal itself. Cautious hesitation.

If you looked at her for too long you’d start thinking she was a fun house mirror of humanity, and likely develop a headache only Pinkie Pie could normally cause.

Some claimed Fae dealings, children swapped at birth in the cold midwinter and mothers none the wiser. Horseshoes burned white hot against mimicked skin at the slightest touch, and an inhuman desire for trickery poorly concealed within fox wide grins.

Others spoke of dark horned creatures raised from the pits of hell to deliver their children into human’s mists, bringing about end times. Crosses turned upside down and brimstone burning at metaphorical gates.

Even fewer spoke of Nephilim, a monstrous beast of man and heaven, terrible things of wings and teeth that burst from their poor human mother’s womb covered in their fathers golden ichor. Bloody and angelic, already a sin.

There was no one story that everyone believed, for there was no one story that could hold all the truth. Every element held some similarities to Sunset, and perhaps for a moment, long enough to bore into the side of her head during a slow class, you could be tricked into thinking you solved it. But if you take another look, you will find another puzzle piece, without corners or sides, and start back at the beginning.

Everyone just knew one thing, the single thing they could all agree upon when it came to the living conundrum that is Sunset Shimmer.

You do not theorize in front of her.

Of course, their first mistake was believing that Twilight Sparkle was just anyone. Especially in the eyes of their resident inhuman.

It was a balmy summer evening when it occurred, the kind that makes you sleep on top of your blankets. Dusk had settled like fireflies across the town, sparse and sparkling, entangled in a cosmic dance.

Crickets sawed their legs in the blue-moon grass as cicadas joined the choir of the night, rubbing the crust of their hibernation cocoons from their eyes.

Sidewalks turned orange, then purple, leading stray children home to warm dinners and even warmer beds. Trees whistled in the wind, their canopies so thick with leaves you’d almost never believe winter could bring them down.

But of course, as the children came home, the street cats returned to their dens, and the birds curled up in their nests, the monsters came out to play.

The ones who slipped out of sewer drains to hide under beds, others who stalked from forgotten places in the forest to wander the barren asphalt streets that used to be home, and more still, that flew with the birds during their migration, tucked like a cheating card between their feathers.

Yes, every good town needed monsters. This one just to happen to be a bit more, personable, then others.

Sunset Shimmer walked down the still June-hot road, pastel chalk painted up and down the street and clinging to her shiny black boots. Despite the weather, she was covered nearly head to toe, her leather jacket’s collar popped against her neck and white undershirt not even showing signs of sweat.

Most would blame the time of day for the attire, dusk being the coolest time of those sweaty summer days. Most, that is.

Coming up to the Sparkle house, Sunset took the steps two at a time, giddy in every sense of the word and rang the doorbell, only having to wait half a second before the doorknob turned and the joyful wrinkled face of her girlfriend's mother came into view.
“Sunset!”

“Hi Mrs. Velvet.” Sunset replied casually, yet in that I-was-raised-to-be-formal-to-every-adult-I-meet way.

Velvet huffed good naturally in her I-will-break-that-habit-one-day-so-help-me way. “Come in, come in, you must be sweating in all those layers.”

Ushered inside in the only way a fretful mother can, Sunset shed her jacket and toed off her boots. A dedicated space within a hall cranny, devoid of any dust fitting her clothes perfectly.

“It’s alright, Mrs Velvet. I’m used to running warm.” That got a knowing chuckle from them both.

“Still,” Velvet sternly began, turning and walking into her domain, the kitchen. “It isn’t polite to keep a guest waiting.”

“Taking etiquette lessons from Rarity again?”

That made Velvet bark back a laugh, her stern motherly façade crinkling at the lips. “Just picked up a few phrases here and there. It's a wonderful inspiration for my next book.”

“Oh I’m sure she’s ecstatic about that.” Sunset stalked around the kitchen island, eyeing the spread of food with a lick to her lips.

Fat gnocchi sat in a stew thick white sauce, carrots, spinach, and soft fork shreds of mouth-melting fish oozed a tongue watering aroma. Light seasonings dotted the surface like floating algae in a river bank.

Fist thick loaves of rolls sat plump and steaming on a nearby platter, golden brown dustings of the oven crisping the edges. Butter porous bubbles cut into the corners, yeast blooming in the air.

Crisp salad, lettuce, tomatoes, even the bits of cheese sparkled under the kitchen lights. An umber vinaigrette with homemade buttermilk ranch dripped thick globs across the surface, seeping into every crevice and cranny.

Crumb dragged oil, local mason jar honey, fresh butter, along with salt and pepper sat as needed on the table. Flowers, still ripe and unwilted stood tall in their vase as the centerpiece.

Sunset won’t deny, the flowers looked as good to eat as the rest of the meal. That time she was caught knee deep in mud eating the weeds that threaten Mrs. Velvet's garden came to mind.

“I made sure to make your favorites tonight. With extra to take home,” she ended with a wink. “You’re so skinny it’s a wonder you don’t fly off the back of that motorcycle of yours.”

Sunset, not knowing how to respond, just scratched the back of her head and nodded with a smile. Floating unsure around the kitchen island, knowing not to help but still wanting too. It was going to be another war over the dishes after dinner. She could feel it.

Speaking that she was already six foot one and had some decent muscle from fencing practice, occasional farm work, and running around solving random magical problems like some rainbow colored vigilante, it made her wonder if Twilight Velvet was aiming to get her to be seven feet tall by the time she graduated.

Then something caught Sunset’s eye sitting by the oven. “Is that…?”

Velvet turned around at her unfinished prompt before gleefully clapping her hands. “Ah! Yes, the flower pressed focaccia.” She joined Sunset by the oven, sighing wistfully. “I wanted to surprise you with it during dinner. I saw the recipe on tv, you know Rachel Bray? I just adore her.”

Velvet continued without comment, “Anyways, I saw one of her recipes for focaccia while I was doing laundry, and I remember you liking those weeds in my garden so much I thought I’d make it for you!” She turned to give a wink at Sunset’s still shell shocked face, “This time without the food poisoning. I got such a good deal on the edible flowers at the store too. I-“

Jumped by an old-timey wind up timer, Twilight Velvet shuffled back to the other side of the kitchen.

“Oop, that's my timer to set the table.”

Grabbing bouquets of glasses, plates, real cloth napkins, counting the forks, and spoons, Velvet flapped a hand over her shoulder at Sunset, not minding that she had taken up the last fifteen minutes of one-sided conversation.

“Why don’t you run along upstairs and see if you can pull our resident mad scientist from her work?” Velvet let that knowing smile on her face pull back her librarian pinched lips, it was kind and gentle, warm like proofed bread ready to bake.

Sunset gave a polite laugh back and nodded. “I’ll try ma’am,” she replied, giving a mocked two finger salute as she slinked out of Velvet's Kingdom. A 90s pop song suddenly nipped at her heels as she walked over the stairs.

Taking the steps one, then two, nearing three at once, Sunset leaped to the top of the stairs, not even trying to keep her excitement contained.

A bark greeted her first, Spike running form his hallway doggy bed to run circles around her legs before sitting down for attention.

Sunset, ever the dutiful girlfriend, gave Spike his payment of scratches and belly rubs and ‘who's a good boy’ before he scampered off to their shared destination.

Seeing the closed door with the sign, “Scientist at work!” tilted in front, Sunset knew to approach quietly in order to truly surprise her. Nudging the door open with the toe of her boot, Spike at her side, Sunset peered through the crack and beheld her.

Coated in her namesake, leaking from the fingers of her black out curtains, was Twilight. Hair tied in a strangler thick bun, glasses askew, and lab coat thoroughly stained in mystery substances. Sunset had never seen such a wonderful sight since she last visited.

Spike, having no concept of surprise when it came to his master, squeezed the door open enough to fit through and immediately started to paw at Twilight’s legs.

Twilight hardly even gave him a glance, giving him a pat on the head, and returning to pondering the white board in front of her.

Sunset was now thoroughly intrigued. Intrigued enough to forgo her jump scare attempt and enter the room fully.

“Nice murder board,” she started with, closing the door behind her.

“It’s a societal correlation of observing bio-electronic yields.” Twilight reshuffled the pin of the receipt for Rainbow’s guitar to be closer to the cut out ad of Fluttershy’s pet project. “Board.”

“Catchy,” Sunset deadpanned before the name finally registered. “Wait, did you name your conspiracy theory board S.C.O.O.B.Y?”

Brain having caught up on who was asking her questions, Twilight detached herself from her red string prison and launched herself into a hug at her girlfriend. “Sunny!”

“Hey dork,” Sunset laughed, squeezing Twilight as hard as she could without her ribs creaking, “getting started on the next Dusk book plot?”

“Ugh hardly.” Twilight rolled her eyes, leaning into Sunset's warmth as she stared back at the pin cushion she called a board. “Those books are as nonsensical as they are derivative of being a high school girl,” Twilight started pacing around her room angrily. “Vampires should be able to drink blood from any part of the body, not just the neck. Not to mention the sparkling!”

Sunset hummed, taking the corner of a picture depicting CHS between her fingers and affectionately caressing it like an aunt to a cheek. “Uh-huh whatever you say Ms. Sparkle.”

Twilight stopped, turned, and looked very unimpressed at Sunset. Sunset just smiled, very pleased back.

“You’re incorrigible.”

“Aw, babe, I love you too.” Sunset leaned forward for a hug and mimed kissing.

“Back demon, back!” Twilight laughed as she lightly pushed Sunset’s shoulders to lean further away from the sloppy kisses.

“Succumb to your desires, human,” Sunset proclaimed in a horrible english accent. “Join me and my angels of the night.”

Twilight nearly fell over laughing, her sides hurting, forcing Sunset to catch her and smother her in half-baked kisses as they fell onto Twilight’s bed.

Sunset would admit to anyone - willing and not - that her most favorite sound, in all the worlds she’s been, was Twilight’s laughter. Which is only two, but that's still more than most beings can say.

The high pitched cracks breaking with every surge of breath like a swimmer coming up for air, the way her adam’s apple wobbled, perfect and round, buoying up Sunset’s fingers and lips with every gasp she took. Every pluck of her vocal cords was an arrow pulled taut for release aimed directly at Sunset’s heart.

She would never curse herself to wake up every day with that sound, for fear it would lose its luster and wonder from the cruel hands of time. No - Sunset would treasure every moment it lived freely gifted to her to hear, feel, and breathe.

It wasn’t a scripted kiss. No fireworks exploding or music suddenly swelling to a surge, no petty drama that led up this quiet scene. It was scripted as an intimate moment that got interrupted, and it was unknown where the scene was going to go. They only knew they would go together. Sunset would make sure of it.

They broke apart, staring into each other's eyes with matching dopey grins before breaking down into giggles.

“Hi.” Kiss.

“Hi, Twi.” Another kiss.

Another round of girlish giggles filled the room, as Sunset took a bluish-black lock and twirled it around her finger.

“So….” Sunset stretched out the oh sound, accentuating her orange slice dipples.

“So…?” Twilight matched her.

“Are you gonna explain what you’re working on, or just leave your poor girlfriend to the wolves of science.” Twilight giggled again at the imagery of wolves in goggles and lab coats.

“So!” Twilight jumped to her feet walking to the previously dubbed S.C.O.O.B.Y board. “Lately there’s been some…” Twilight searched for the word, “unique happenings around town lately.” She began, adjusting her glasses smartly.

Sunset rose to a sitting position on the edge of the bed, resting an elbow on her knee and holding her head up with love-struck intrigue. She had a feeling she knew where this was going, but was curious how Twilight would end up there.

“And along with these strange goings-on, a new energy type has surfaced, coinciding along with these events.” Pulling a teacher's pointing wand from nowhere, Twilight pointed at the red circled picture of Canterlot high in the center of the board. “Example A: An energy spike occurred during the supposed ‘Fall Formal’ last september.”

Sunset snorted at the skeptical way Twilight pronounced, Fall Formal. “Wait, didn't you get chased off campus by Mr. Doodle when you took that picture?”

“Example B!” Twilight swiftly moved on, pointing the wand to a red stringed photo of CHS’s track field. “CHS athleticism awards have nearly tripled since Event A, along with higher test results and school spirit.”

“Is this just a plot to get our friendship game plans to Crystal Prep?” Sunset wagged her finger disapprovingly, “For shame, Twilight Sparkle. For. Shame.”

Twilight rolled her eyes good naturedly, lightly tapping Sunset’s open knee with her wand getting a quiet ‘Ow!’ from her girlfriend.

“You and I both know that neither of us care for the friendship games, and all their promoted frivolity.” Clearing her throat, Twilight pointed at a newspaper cut-out of the mall. “Now I originally believed that these geo-magnetic events were due to a fault line your school may have been built on, however, further investigation shows that the local shopping center has also had its fair share of unusual electro-magnetic congestion.”

Sunset raised her hand and didn’t bother waiting to be called on. “Shopping center? What are you, seventy?” Then she raised an eyebrow as she made some hand gestures to get her point across. “Also is congestion even the right word in this case? Wouldn’t it be conjecture?”

“No conjecture is an unproven mathematical theory, or scientific theorem. Congestion can be used as a cluster, similar to a congested nose.”

Sunset crinkled her nose cutely. “Gross.”

“Yeah…” Twilight shook her head, “regardless of word choice, these two places have had noticeable changes to their local flora and fauna since these geographical events occurred.”

“Aka you and Fluttershy noticed dog poop was easier to pick up at the mall, despite it getting below freezing this winter.”

“And,” Twilight interjected excitedly, “how wasps and bees had lowered sting rates within these areas then our control zones.”

“Wait, how did you even manage to collect data on that?”

Twilight nervously floundered, “uh.”

“… Please don’t tell me you tried to get stung repeatedly just to test this theory.” Sunset groaned under a face palm.

“Fluttershy was with me!”

“Was she also trying to get stung?” Sunset deadpanned.

Twilight fidgeted with the end of her skirt silently.

“Ugh.” Sunset felt like banging her head against the wall. “I expected this from Rainbow Dash and AJ doing their ‘bravery tests’, not you.” She made quotation marks with her fingers.

“R-regardless!” Twilight started again. “The findings of the field test were adequate in proving that these inexplicable events have had impact within our community, to a level unseeable to the human senses, but strong enough to affect the environment.”

Clearing her throat Twilight pointed to the music store receipt, “Event A - 2: the supposed ‘music battle’ between Rainbow Dash and Trixie Lullamoon that occurred some week’s before the second spike event.” Twilight began to pace in front of the board, lost in her own musings. “Though further prodding into this event from witnesses lead to a dead end.” Applejack telling Rainbow Dash a very knowing, shut up, during a lunch outing. “I believe that perhaps these events are either drawn, or related, to sound waves. Particularly, ones that emanate from possible guitar sounds.”

Twilight took a deep breath before continuing, wearing a hole into her bedroom floor.

“But if that's the case, then how come these events don’t happen every time a guitar is played?”

“Twi.”

Twilight pivoted and chewed on her thumb nail, “what is the different variable between these small spikes and the larger ones?”

“Twilight.”

“Is it based on the level of sound? The amps at the school and festival grounds are bound to be stronger than the store ones, but they’re most likely older as well.”

“Twilight!”

“Gah!” Twilight jumped from the sound of her name, dropping the teacher's wand from her hand.

“You’re spiraling,” Sunset helpfully stated, her face tuned to a concerned but gentle look. “Have you taken any breaks since you made this?” Standing up, Sunset walked over to her girlfriend and cupped a cheek. “Have you eaten anything today?”

Twilight squeezed her eyes shut, taking a deep breath in, and then relaxing as it came out. Opening her eyes she stares into Sunset’s bluish-green ones, flecked with bits of gold like leaves on a pond.

“I ate breakfast and lunch today, drank lots of water, and got eight hours of sleep last night.” Sunset cocked her head, doing that thing that always seemed to pull the truth from her. “…Six hours.”

Sunset sighed and took Twilight's hands in one of her hers and used the other one to push back her fringe to feel her forehead. Her hands were calloused from guitar picking, fencing, and the like, yet they were gentle and exceedingly warm, like you warmed yourself a bit too close to the stove.

“Well, you don’t have a fever, that's good.” putting her hand down Sunset pressed a quick kiss to the corner of Twilight's lips, still she saw stars. “I’d feel a lot better if you ate a little something before dinner though.”

Shaking off the sudden trip through the galaxy, Twilight returned back to her room, and more importantly, to Sunset.

“Okayyy mommmm.” Twilight rolled her eyes but acquiesced.

Sunset put a hand into her jacket pocket and pulled out a non-labeled granola bar, that definitely couldn’t have normally fit, and gave it to her girlfriend.

“You still haven’t told me what brand these are,” Twilight said, unwrapping the bar. “I’ve tried to figure it out from the taste but none of the ones at the supermarket match.”

Sunset shrugged, a sly smile creeping on her lips. “It’s whatever you want it to be.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“I’ll make you a Deal,” Twilight could hear the capital D in deal, another strange quirk that Sunset had, “I’ll tell you all about my granola bar adventures after your TED talk.”

“Only if you also promise to stop with the peanut gallery every other sentence.” Twilight jokingly poked a finger at Sunset’s chest, in a mocking serious tone.

Sunset raised an eyebrow. “This Deal feels unfairly balanced towards you, Ms Sparkle.”

“Then I guess we’ll never know what this mysterious energy is.” Twilight said, shrugging.

“Alright, alright.” Sunset put her hands up in supposed self defense. “I’ll keep it to three sentences, maximum.”

“I can live with that.” Twilight nodded, taking a big bite out of the granola bar in satisfaction.

“So it is so.” Sunset snapped her fingers in what Twilight assumed was another jokingly grandiose gesture. “Now, are you gonna tell me more about this electromagnetic radiation from space ogres?”

Twilight rolled her eyes so hard it ached a little. “You’ve been around my brother too much.” She tossed the granola wrapper into the trash can in the corner of her room and licked a crumb off her thumb.

“You see, while I was compiling all this data together I realized I had missed something; something that ties everything together, from the strange energy levels, to the reaction to sound, even why certain flora and fauna have been behaving unusually.”

Sunset made a go on gesture to fuel Twilight’s energy. She hung off every word, grinning and staring up worshipfully at Twilight, helpless in the face of a cheeto-crusted deity on earth.

Twilight dramatically paused for her rapt audience of one. “Cryptids.”

“Cryptids.” Sunset deadpanned back.

“Cryptids!” Twilight shot back. “And I have proof!”

“Oh?” Sunset said smirking, “And what, pray tell, would this proof be?”

“THIS!!!!” Twilight loudly and proudly exclaimed, holding out her new prized possession towards Sunset.

“… A… crumb filled sandwich bag?”

“Oh whoops, that's from my lunch.” Twilight hastily put away the trash before pulling out a much grimmer looking ziploc. “I mean - THIS!!!”

Sunset squinted hard, until all she saw was the clenched teeth of her eyelashes. Leaning back and rubbing her growing headache from her temples. Sunset sighed, mentally preparing the out-of-pocket cost of a tetanus shot.

“Twilight you know I would do anything for you, have done anything for you, but if you keep picking up random ziplocs from behind the school I am putting you on a kiddie leash.”

“What?” Twilight exclaimed, confused and a bit incredulous at the, very understandable, accusation. “No, I haven’t done that since my last tetanus shot. This,” Twilight shook the bag for effect, “is a real life sample from the local cryptid I found by the greenhouse last week; I had to dig it out of the compost bin after some random girl threw it in. I think her name was Sunflower?”

“Wait,” Sunset cut in as blunt and fast as a drunk mother at a wedding reception, “wait, wait, wait. Hold the phone.” Twilight held her position. “Now pass the phone to me.”

Sunset nearly jumped up off the bed as she realized just what was in her girlfriend's hand.

“You mean to tell me that, that.” She pointed a finger at the thing inside the bag, “came from the Everfree Gargoyle?”

“Yes!” Twilight shook with excitement. “The bat-like veins and stony texture of the skin lead me to believe that this sample came off the Gargoyle’s wings during a scuffle. My prevailing theory is that the Gargoyle was present during the Fall Formal, which coincides with the local police reports of a ‘large flying bat’ within the area that night. And-“

Twilight continued to drone on about her theory and how the new urban legend was connected with it, but all Sunset could do was stare at the ziploc held tightly within Twilight’s grip.

Frankly, Sunset wasn’t sure if she should be flattered, offended, or icked out. So she chose all three.

“That's… great, Sparky?” She could feel her face make a mixture of a grimace and smile, which did, in fact, make her look slightly constipated.

Along with the typical couple barfy private nicknames Sunset had for Twilight, she basically only ever called her “Twi,” “Princess,” or “Sparky.” “Babe,” was reserved for when she’s irritated with something, or wants to leave the current conversation, or just leave in general. She didn’t sound irritated now, just concerned and confused.

It came out as more of a question than a statement but Twilight took it in stride.

“I know, right?” Twilight babbled, “with this not only can I prove that the ‘Everfree Gargoyle’,” Twilight scoffed at the absurdity, “is just some newly discovered bat species, but I can study it and be the first person to publish an article on it!” Twilight tapped her chin in thought like a living sculpture. “Zoology isn’t my preferred source of study, but I’m sure the recruiter’s at the Everfree independent study will love this!”

Okay, now Sunset felt a little more offended, but better a bat than a demon she supposed. Even if demon was technically more accurate. She could still feel offended, damnit.

Sunset had thought about telling Twilight the truth, whatever remained of it, on more than one occasion.

She had written down plans late into the night, tossing them one by one, overhead into her overflowing garbage can until her hand cramped and her alarm clock yelled at her to go to school.

She had tried voice memos, recordings, letters, hell, she even thought about spray painting a ‘Hell is Real’ sign on the side of her building once in sheer desperation, but figured that would be too on the nose, even for her. And she didn’t want to get kicked out. Again.

But time and time again, when she does finally pluck up the courage to tell her, Sunset always ends up floundering with awe in the sandy sea of stars that is Twilight’s theory babble and smile.

It's selfish, she knows it. Keeping this side, this entire part of her life, hidden from the one person who deserves to know it the most. The one person who she truly wants to live it with.

She wants those early mornings, in a bed with no shame, she wants the sleepy confused look Twilight would give her when she wakes up, she wants to be that warmth beside her in bed, she wants cold feet digging into her hips, and giggles under the midnight glow of cell phones.

She wants so badly it aches just behind her jaw and tongue. Weighed down by this invisible wave that threatens to consume her. It hurts, and yet…

And yet she is a coward.

When they share a bed on these weekend escapades, rubbing their cricket feet together under the covers of night, Sunset waits until Twilight falls asleep, her breathing even and the bunch between her brows lifted, and does the most selfish thing she can do.

In the low of those nights, between the birds roosting and the cicadas whirring awake, Sunset leans over, as quietly as the bed springs will let her, and risks a small kiss to Twilight’s forehead, to release the wave of affection that threatens to overwhelm her remaining fear.

And on those nights she has a dream, the only dream she can, and has, ever fully remembered.

In the dream, Sunset has wings of copper and fire. Skeletal wires bent into the shape of wings, that can only sing of the idea of flight, burst from her back held together by melting waxish-clay and stray feathers. The barebones of a statue come to life before she could have been finished.

Adorned with curled locks tangled with dried up willow leaves: gasoline yellow eyes with a snake tongue and rows of teeth, she feels as though she has fallen between the fingers of clouds and sunlight.

Laughing as she falls, in the face of all that has and been holy as the sun paints everything a dying gold.

The dream turns itself over like a page.

Suddenly, she is under a star-studded barn, that's been eaten rotten, wind blowing throughout the greyscale wood like soundless chimes.

It is the shortest night of the year, evident by the way the sun shyly kisses the rim of the sky, like the sun was a groom, gently lifting the wedding-garter of the sky between its fingers.

An old hunting rifle sits on her lap as she cleans it with an ease she definitely would not have in the waking world. Its ingrained gunpowder freckles soaking in the faint yawn of light from a fire.

The fire in front of her was slowly losing the fight to sleep, in the way that fires do, flickering moments of wakefulness with a sudden crackle popping in the air like a yawn, before slowly sinking further and further into the rosy charcoal and logs, plates of ash tucked like feather-stuffed blankets around the corners.

A cast iron pan, bigger than both her palms spread out thumb-to-thumb, sizzled on top of the dying flames. A thin layer of oil spits anywhere it can reach, just barely missing her mud covered feet. Or perhaps they were boots. It’s hard to tell in a dream.

In the pan, dashed with sparks of seasoning that seemed to shimmer like sparklers on the fourth of July, is the curled form of an angel. Halo and all.

The dream turns itself over like a page.

This time, there is no fire, no heavenly force barreling down or roasting to a crisp, not even a hint of that strange haze that dreams always take before they fizzle out into nothingness just before you wake. In fact, the sight is so clear and vivid it could be mistaken for a memory or those moments of déjà vu that make you pause and think ‘hasn’t this happened already?’

Truthfully, standing in this not-dream dream, all Sunset could think of was a poem she had read in school.

Two roads diverge in a yellow wood, or however it went.

In front of her was a yellow wood, autumn leaves turning a once lush green landscape into rusty browns, ocher yellows, and ruddy oranges and reds. Both paths lay, as the poem states, equally bare, though they both had been worn about the same.

Sunset could see the symbolism, she didn’t need to recall Ms. Harshwinny’s lecture to understand what this meant. Sill, even just recalling standing quite literally at a crossroads of her life, despite it being in a dream, was disconcerting.

Sunset looks up at Twilight, still engrossed within her own world, and considers the paths she has taken and the ones laid before her, and decides, fuck it. Fuck the high road, fuck the low road, she’s gonna do this the best way she knows how, her way.

“Magic,” Sunset steps in between Twilight’s talking about ph levels in water and how they could affect the ambient electromagnetic field around CHS. “It’s magic.”

Twilight looks at her, mid spiel, with the same look she gave when Pinkie Pie said she wanted to create the first ever molten fudge brownie volcano; the Brownie-ano.

“…no.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“But what about yes?”

“Sunset.” Twilight pinched her temples exasperated. “No.”

“Mmmm no I think yes.”

“That doesn’t even make sense grammatically.”

“It’s still magic grammar or no grammar.”

Twilight groaned the only way a frustrated teenager could. “Sunset, I know you know better than this. Magic isn’t real.” She flailed her arms wildly, “all ‘magic’ is, is science that hasn’t been explained yet.”

Sunset nodded, took this into consideration, thought about it some more, then promptly went off topic. “Did you find that on a Snapple lid?”

“No.”

“Oh…You should submit that to Snapple.”

Twilight groaned so loud her white board shook from the sound.

“Okay, okay,” Sunset began, putting her hands up in defense. “How ‘bout this; I’m the Everfree Gargoyle.”

If looks could kill Sunset would already be sunk at the bottom of a lake somewhere.

“No, really. I am. Watch.” Jumping up from the bed with a crack of her knuckles, Sunset started to stretch as Twilight looked on in disbelief, yet appreciating the view of Sunset's shirt riding up her stomach.

Her brow pitched forward in concentration, the hawklike hook of her nose curved proud, taut at the cheeks like a lioness in grass stalking her prey. Her lantern jaw likeness was clenched, muscles tight with pressure, like she was preparing to weather a storm at sea.

She leaned one-armed off the bed-railing, mimicking sepia-tones postcards of sailors at the rigging, her forearms straining, as thick as a bundle of ropes drawn taut.

Twilight could feel a hum tickle the back of her throat, a buzz that leapt from nerve to nerve sending ripples of unsynchronized goosebumps across her body. Like an old tv had been left on in the other room and Twilight was feeling the white static snow through the wall.

An animal itch in the back of her brain told her to step away, hide, run for cover, that a bigger, meaner predator had come, but the larger emotional and logical part told her that Sunset would never harm someone, least of all her.

So stuck rocking on the balls of her feet Twilight swallowed that base urge to run and watched as her girlfriend pulled more and more heat into the room from nowhere.

Then, just when the building pressure was about to burst like a shaken can of soda, Sunset jerked her hands out infront of her, putting her left hand over her right hand, Sunset pulled her hand away, pulling her “right” thumb with it.

“See?” Sunset said, repeating the action, “I can take my thumb off. Pretty gargoyle behavior huh?”

Twilight watched Sunset perform the unclesest of uncles “magic” trick a few more times before saying something.

“Sunset.”

“Yes my love, my little mad twientist, my light in the dark?” Sunset proudly said, slowly descending into random cooing noises with every word. “What ever is the matter, my dear?”

Twilight sat, practically curled into a ball, on the edge of her desk chair, head in her hands. “I hate you.”

Sunset laughed, light and airy. Dropping the act and pulling Twilight into a one sided hug. “No you don’t.”

“…No I don’t,” Twilight sighed, returning the hug.

Sunset smiled, a devious glint lighting her eyes, before she tightly hugged Twilight and suddenly picked her up with an, “Up we go!”

“Sunset!!!!” Twilight squealed, girlishly giggling as Sunset twirled them around her room. “Put me down!!”

“Whatever you say, my princess desires.” And with a final twirl, Sunset launched the two of them into Twilight’s bed, making the walls shake as they dissolved into a laughing pile of arms and legs.

With a final giggle-snort trailing off into the air, Twilight laid across Sunset’s chest, staring into her eyes.

“Thank you for putting up with me and my crazy theories, even if you talked over all the technical bits.” Twilight rolled her eyes, drawing figure-eights across Sunset’s chest.

“Hey.” Sunset grasped Twilight’s shifting hand to make her look at her. “I’m not ‘putting up with you,’ I love to hear your science talk, it's my favorite part of the week!” Sunset leaned forward to rest her forehead against Twilight’s. “I’m sorry that I made you feel that way. You’re everything to me Twi. Come ice or fire.”

Twilight smiled, small and true. “Thank you,” she whispered. “But really, I’m nothing special.”

“Bullshit.”

Twilight, sighed, weary and accepting. “Sunset-“

“You’re the most beautiful being I have ever had the privilege of witnessing.” Sunset stated, not moving an inch.

“I’m not beautiful,” Twilight shot back. “And I’m only good company with books.”

“Then you're gorgeous to me,” Sunset replied snappily.

“I am not gorgeous either,” Twilight retorted, eyebrows arched in confusion.

“Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

“Not pretty either.”

“Handsome.”

“Sunset.”

Sunset couldn’t be stopped. “Lovely. Charming. Elegant.”

“Elegant?” Twilight barked back. “Are you sure you’re not talking about Rarity?”

“Oh no, you are definitely the living personification of elegant, Twilight Sparkle.” Sunset supplied an ever serious gleam in her eyes.

“I have cheeto dust stained on my coat.”

“And it makes you all the more radiant.” Wrist kiss, pulse perked under her lips. “Splendid.” A kiss pressed like an overflowing bouquet into the crook of her elbow. “Striking.” Chaste yet as long as a millennia put squarely into her shoulder.

Sunset smiled, her teeth curled over her lips in a cunning way. “Toothsome.”

“Toothsome?” Twilight exclaimed incredulously. “Is that even a word?”

“Maybe not,” Sunset hummed, certainty dripping form the words. “But if anyone disagrees I’ll show them a picture of you and they’ll add it to the dictionary without hesitation.”

“And you call me the dork.”

That made Sunset break, laughter bursting out in snorts and hiccups and an outward hiss, like a snake or a cat, unlike a sudden human seethe through the teeth. Yet in a way that Twilight knew was joyful.

Twilight leaned her head against Sunset’s chest, her heart giving out two times the normal human stutter. “I love you,” she murmured against Sunset’s ribs, knowing the words couldn’t touch her heart, but still foolishly hoping they did.

“I love you too.” Sunset pressed a kiss to Twilight’s scalp. “We should go join your parents for dinner.”

“Five more minutes?” Twilight pleaded.

“For you? I’d give you the world if you asked.”

Twilight hummed in consideration. “Only if you promise to take me to the bookstore after.”

“The one on J street?”

“Yeah,” Twilight yawned. “The owner sorts the science fiction section the best.”

“Consider it done, princess.” Sunset gently lifted Twilight's hand and gave a sealed kiss to the base of her ring finger.

“Wait. You were supposed to tell me where you got those granola bars from after my presentation!”

“Yeah, but I never said how long after your presentation I’d tell you.”

“Sunsetttttt!”

Author's Note

lol. lmao even.

The real friendship was- oh they're kissing

She should have seen this coming. Every up has its down, every dog its day, and tonight, Twilight Sparkle’s own personal hell rolled out the parade.

But one thing was for certain; it was not the first time this had happened. Nor will it be the last.

It came, as most things do, in a dream. Well, an almost dream.

Sleep had evaded her like a bad ex, not that she would know what that’s like. Even with her eyes closed all Twilight could feel was the slight ache of her pupils twitching under her eyelids. Strained from squinting at screens, hunched hovering over textbooks, and red-rimmed with exhaustion.

In that bleary half-awake haze, mind swimming with study-induced delirium, electric green numbers blurred in and out of focus on her bedside table, shifting ever so slowly from ten to midnight to one then three.

By then the coolness of morning had settled in the frost covered corners of windows, tinting the blue-black night in a silly sleepiness shared over quiet bowls of cereal and knowing looks.

Laughter as quiet as the squeals of forks and knives against plates in solitary late-night into early-morning diners.

Even the street cleaners underneath her window, bathed with that sticky fever-cold-hot sweat that winter brought, worked their machines in tune with hushed intensity, like a baby sleeping in the other room. Conversing in clipped Italian, checking every creak and shiver that echoed down the street to see who would intrude upon their child-like glee of staying up late.

In that half-tipsy wonderment that only nights can provide, everything was strange without being threatening, at least, for a time.

The stars are still. Not in their solitary pinpricks but overexposed and drifting. Even their faded comet trails, normally naked to the normal eye, were still. Unwavering. Tiny stripes across the sky as if someone took a knife and started hacking.

It’s still in all the wrong ways, like a forest alive with chatter suddenly falling uncomfortably silent, causing an invisible breath to crawl, finger by finger, up your spine and onto your neck. The blue-black cover of night coming down like a rotting coffin lid.

Yet, despite its deathly stillness, the world was alive around it.

A train passes over head, void of all its passengers, the only signs of life left behind, the only thing perceptible inside, was that humming-fluorescent blue, slowly glowing. It breathed in that way light does, fading in and out, in and out, rocking in time with the train, like waves of light that only come alive when the electric-blue-ichor was alone to stalk its prey.

Planes fly overhead, human handicraft stuck mimicking the stars' cosmic dance, only visible by their blinking, stalwart wings.

A dog barks down the block, a child screams awake from nightmares, late-night into early-morning cars sputter and cough awake, the trees, bare and charcoal black, rasp and claw against windows and doors, casting shadows as thin and twisted as witches fingers.

Smoke stacks puff their cigarettes on rooftops and AC units slumber in their yearly hibernation. TV’s leak their neon rainbows down window sills and into the street, while the quiet grumbling and bumping of the late-shift attendees slowly crawl into bed.

The house is filled with the remains of life, books left opened, dust walked into corners, dishes still drip-drying in the sink.

Jackets and shoes lined the doorway, still faint with the memory of warmth, hampers of clothes bundled close outside the laundry room, blankets and pillows reassure you they’re resting their eyes across the living room, the TV so low you strain to hear it.

It's quiet. Alive but only in tiny, fragile moments. Still as the dead.

Long black eyelashes, curled and fine, heavy with snowy sleepiness, slowly fluttered open again for the fifth time that night, rose-tinted with fitful, yet dreamless, sleep.

But that rose-tinted feeling of sleep slowly vanished into that dreadful weight of pressure, of an unwanted presence sitting heavy as heavy as a rock in the bottom of a lake in the center of her chest.

She was so cold with fear it bypassed the shivering, itching teeth stage and immediately shifted into gumming her mouth as tight as it could to try and preserve the slightest bit of warmth inside her mouth.

It was a green ribbon of pressure, static and confidence, tied tight around her neck, separating her mind from her body, stilling her into just that, a body.

Not a person. Not a human being. Just a body, lying frozen in growing fear in bed.

Trapped inside her own mind, every shadow became a murder, every creak another statistic about a teenage girl’s body found in the woods, and every forcibly self-swallowed shudder another monster her mind conjured from childhood nightmares and caffeine overload nausea.

Twilight could picture it now, with one fell swoop of the monster's claws it would unravel, sending her head tumbling down onto the floor like a bad nightmare she couldn’t wake from, unable to even scream.

Sleep paralysis. A beast in its own right.

Twilight had been battling with it since the beginning of puberty, a strange byproduct of hormones, diet, and anxiety.

Over time it had slowly gone away, helped by better diet, habits, and HRT, fading into another repressed childhood memory that only awakened to rear its head when it wasn’t wanted.

Funnily enough, it wasn’t those three things that had done it away though.

Twilight had found, through rigorous research that led to many strange nights and several interesting revelations about herself, that thinking about her girlfriend before bed seemed to help.

Like a warding spell, Twilight would recall those orange slice dimples, the snarky counterpoints, and shining blue-green eyes like taking a finger and tracing over a sepia-loved picture, until it ever so slowly faded into a pleasant static haze of love that whispered her good night and good morning, from its imprint in her mind’s bed.

Sometimes she would go whole mornings off that buzz alone, like a warm hug after a long night, the heat radiating off a full thermos of a coffee before a long trip, or snuggling under a heavy duvet when it's cold.

She’d hang on to it with every inch of being she had, until one by one her fingers would slip and that feeling would sail away into the place that forgotten dreams go, waiting on her to call them again.

But it all catches up eventually—even she knew that.

Her perfectly planned out night-time routine was bound to be hit eventually by a late-night cram session, and with it, her once late night protector would be gone as well.

But really, did it have to come two days before midterms?

If she could groan, Twilight would’ve. Yes, she was still with the fear that only being hunted by a larger predator could cause, but also she really needed that A in Mr. One-Shot’s class. If she fails because of this, she is going to have some choice words with her brains’ manager.

At least she made it into her bed this time; her neck was grateful for that fact.

The crunch of the sludgy, February snow outside melted into howls and growls of invisible wolves snarling and stalking in the dark, frantic corners of her eyes. Edging closer and closer with every ghostly step to nipping on her frozen, exposed heels.

The house creaked and popped like an old man settling into his favorite recliner, settling with the new, unwanted presence that groaned in its pipes and emerged from cracks in its foundation; bad luck given ghostly form in shifting shadows, piles of clothes turned boogeymen, and ceiling fans that turn into bulging, twisting, mounds of spider webs, that droop uselessly against Twilight’s face.

The phantom feeling of spindling legs squirming across the uneven terrain of her lips was as uncomfortable as trying to swallow a cough in a quiet room and hauntingly memorable.

The demon is coming, if it hasn’t already been watching.

Twilight knows that it isn’t a real demon; those don’t exist. Yet she can’t help but call it that. She goes over the facts in her head to calm the feeling of her heart against her chest.

She is home. She is safe. Magic isn’t real. Demons are not real. This will pass.

Without her glasses the room is a blur of all those little nightmares she thought she grew out of. The ones that run from nightlights, parents checking under beds, and get dispelled by fairytale books and kisses goodnight.

Alone, trapped within herself, she is subjected to the horrors that grew with her, watching from the dark recesses of her mind and now free to roam and torment their beholder for all those years cooped up inside.

And though she knows it's irrational, that giving something a name means giving it power, she calls it what it impossibly is.

A demon.

She knows this the same way she knows her own name engraved from birth, a gift from existence itself.

A weight settles across her chest, slowly molding, shifting between the winding rivers of her duvet until it spreads its fingers curling around either side of her mattress and presses down on her.

An involuntary wheeze tries to escape Twilight’s lips, but instead remains trapped between the crushing weight of the ghostly palm and trapped underneath her sternum.

”She does not belong to you.” The words shudder, sizzling in the air. Eyes as black as coal, burning in pools of fire, glowed inside the empty abyss of her bedroom door.

The beast, the creature, the thing that had spoken, slowly lumbered over, barely fitting inside her door frame, inside the house, even as it walked on its fingers and hind legs.

Spine arched like a cat, hitting and pulling against her door frame. It walked not only on its knuckles but as one shoulder pulled forward through the doorway, crimson wings, red as dried blood and tattered as a haunted house curtain, pulled from the nighttime veil.

Upon the tips of its tattered wings was the clawed caricature of what a hand was supposed to look like, holding the creature’s massive frame steady against the groaning floorboards.

Nursery rhyme fear given flesh and blood. The reason why humans created language was to warn others of a beast like this. Dripping sinew sewn lullabies embroidered in that archaic fear of devourment.

The weight, the demon, the squirming black mass of shadow and fear incarnate, hesitated.

“I know you are there, I can smell you. All of you.” The demon licked its chops, the blood in its jowls gleamed like stars from just the right angle.

A voice spoke from all angles of her room, a conglomeration, a mass of voices, snowy tv static, crackly radio waves, spoke over top of each other. Some murmuring, some singing, some even howling like a coyote possessed human.

“We are hungry.”

The demon paced its gilded cage like an antsy tiger watching its prey. “You won’t find any food here.”

“We’ve come for a sheep.” The voices, many, all, yet none at all, rung out.

“And as I’ve said, she does not belong to you.” The beast huffed, a mist of fog bellowing out from its curled up nose.

The sheer heat radiating off its red leathery hide caused a layer of dew to collect in the corners of the room, even Twilight could feel sweat slowly form and bead down her face.

The voices gripped her tighter, pinching her ribs inwards uncomfortably.

“You cannot kill us all.”

“I can kill enough.” The beast stalked forward, every step sending rumbles and groans throughout the house until it stopped just at the foot of her bed. “At least one. Would you do that? Kill one of your kin just to fill your bellies for less than a day?” It licked its chops once more, this time sending dried flakes of blood trapped in its fur glittering like jewels flying across the room like motes of dust in the sun. “If so, you may as well pick that one now and eat them.”

The figure, formless and wispy, scowled as best they could, or at least as much as Twilight could tell. In the looming, oppressive silence that threatened to choke Twilight back to sleep, the thing that was keeping her pinned, shuddered from underneath from its shadowy cloak.

It spoke, voice bone rattled and crackling like a layered radio call. “We are hungry.”

“I’m sorry, honest.” The creature bowed its head, almost touching the duvet with its chin. “But there is no food for you here. Now,” the beast bared its teeth and with a growl that could be felt for miles, gave its last warning to the shadowy figure. “You either leave, or test your luck with a real demon.”

Silence. Silence as sweet as sin and as gentle as nails to a chalkboard.

It could have lasted five minutes or five hours or five eternities and Twilight wouldn't have known the difference.

But then finally, finally, the pressure around her slowly eased up until the unnatural dent in her sheets was no more than her own weight.

The beast melted once more into the shadows casted around her room, dipping themselves into the darkness until only from the recesses of her room, or perhaps her mind, she saw a twin pairs of golden pinricks that could have been eyes back away from her room, until it was one with the darkness.

But that still left the beast.

Twilight was at her wits end, panic now swelling ten fold–no, one hundred fold, now that she was the sole proprietor of its attention. But stuck in paralysis, in this damned cursed stasis, she could do nothing but be forced fed her own panic attack, like an ouroboros of fear with the same amount of pain as trying to swallow a cough with a mouth full of water.

Twilight pulled, stretched, strained against her own muscles inside her jaw and chest, until it felt like the tendons themselves were starting to snap from the effort of trying to move her mouth. Scream forever stuck between her throat and tongue.

Just trying to say the word ‘hot’ forcibly escaped from her lips in a seething hiss between her teeth, like the mere idea of warmth touching her skin made her tongue burn with frostbite daydreams.

“Don’t speak,” the deep bass and rumble of the beast’s voice rolled over Twilight like the warm hand of a thunderstorm. “It’ll only hurt you.”

The rough scratch of its fur lightly grazed her cheek as the black length of its claws brushed a hair behind her ear before jerking to the side, away from her and taking the scant bit of warmth with it.

Silent and steady, gentle and swift, contemplative yet knowing.

The beast keeps away, eyes drooping with the same fear and rejection as a starved dog seeking affection.

Twilight wants to both jerk away, run, scream with fear, yet a small, almost spark of herself wants to calm the beast, soothe its own pain and whisper sweet nothings in its ear. But stuck in paralysis she does neither. She only laid there, eyes wide, and throat bobbing with a fishing line taut scream.

And the beast, tepid and afraid, rested its head on the barest point of her shoulder and purred her to sleep.

A coffee cloud morning, with a sugar rim of frost and steam like fog making all the little lights from all the little people around town no different from stars.

Rows of brownstones and duplexes sing with porcelain and metal, between yawns and stretches and ‘Good mornings’ mumbled under breaths.

Slippers are exchanged for tennis shoes and loafers, bathrobes for suit jackets, novelty underwear for slacks and jeans.

A menagerie of cars sputter awake, coughing away the early morning chill with a rumble of smog and coffee infused interiors. An unspoken symphony slowly plays out, like all the cars are being driven across a carpet street heralded by pudgy, sticky kid fingers.

The asphalt isn’t warmed yet, still sparkling with dew. Lawns are blue, melting into green. Birds ruffle themselves awake while the alley cats tuck away back into their storm drains.

And through it all monsters of all kinds cease their play, crawling back under beds, back into the woods, the sewer drains, the abandoned house a block away. Some sleep away the day tired from all their play, others go out for mischief of one kind or another, but very few ever dare toe the line between monster and man and live to see another night again.

But within this sleepy, rear view mirror town, within the turning of this blue bird day, someone had dared that line, crossed it without care.

And many, many months later, on a day similar to this one but just a bit warmer, when the police find its corpse, bloated and belly up, far from any water, no human will know, ever understand what happened. But every creature, every monster, hide and hair, tooth and fang, will know that if you mess with the unicorn you get the horn.

But that is then, and this is now.

Now, a mother bathed in golden rays cooks fresh fried eggs over a stove. A cast iron skillet, sparkling in oil and fats, charters its dual yolk suns against the blacktop, guided by a spatula sky.

Sprinkles of salt and pepper leapt from skilled fingers. The thick golden crust of Texas toast is slathered in knots of butter. Cheese crisps and bubbles around its edges, tomatoes ooze their innards across a mustard base before being topped with a layer of fresh faucet-washed lettuce, and then crushed between the two crackling layers of toast and egg.

Twin rivers of yolk run down the toasted cliff face, over lettuce valleys, tomato deserts, and cheese pools. Holding this beast of a sandwich is a challenge in itself, a solo game of hot potato between your fingers as you aim where to bite next yet, no matter what, you will always end up sticky faced and ready for a nap.

It was just what Sunset wanted. Nay, needed, after the night she’d had. The coffee wasn’t too bad either.

“You sure you’re alright dear?” Twilight Velvet asked once again, voice dripping in restraint to take Sunset’s temperature. She pushed the monstrosity of a sandwich, which was definitely illegal for cardiac arrest charges in several counties, towards Sunset. “You’re practically going gray around the edges!”

“I’m ok Mrs. Velvet,” cut off by her own jaw-splitting yawn, Sunset rubbed her eyes until they’d warmed up. “Just had a bit of a busy night.”

“I’ll say! With all that racket you made last night I almost barged into Twilight’s room with my bat!” Velvet expertly flipped a golden pancake with one hand. “Although, maybe I should start calling it your room as well, with how often you come to stay over.”

Sunset choked back a laugh with her mouth full of delicious heart-disease sandwich. “I’m not so sure about that,” she got out, licking her fingers clean. “Twi likes her space, I wouldn’t want to take that away from her.”

“Sunset,” she stilled at her name, a calm and steady hand from experience that only time can give, fell upon her shoulder. “She looks at you like you hung the stars themselves, if anything she’d give you space if she could. And I mean the literal thing.”

Twilight Velvet crouched down in front of Sunset, and for the first time Sunset really saw how old she was. Not that she was ancient looking, mind you, but the way she carried herself, the crows feet crinkling in her eyes, the way she twiddled her wedding band like second nature. This was a woman who had loved not only life, but had life love her back.

“You will always be part of our family, dear. No matter what happens.” Velvet pinched her mouth forward in a small, knowing smile.

“But what if she—” Sunset licked her lips, thinking over her word choice again. “When I tell her, what if—”

“If you keep thinking in ‘ifs’ and ‘could be’s’ you’ll end up losing your head,” Twilight Velvet chuckled, standing up as fast as her knees would let her. “Take it from this old woman, it'll work out. Be messy, but work out nonetheless. Trust me on my authority as a mother and a writer.”

Taking up a spatula, Twilight Velvet layered the last pancake atop an already comically large pile before turning around and addressing Sunset’s query with her own. “What’s that show you both like always say? ‘Take chances, make mistakes, get messy?’”

Sunset, astonished, confused, and a bit shell shocked simply responded with, “did you just quote Mrs. Frizzle at me for relationship advice with your daughter?”

“Sure did kiddo! Welcome to the family.” She gave Sunset a quick side hug, keeping her plate balanced on the other hand before walking out of the kitchen.

Sunset, still in a state of shock, looked at the space Twilight Velvet last filled and decided promptly to file that for future Sunset to deal with. Hopefully either in therapy or a very lengthy, late night text chain in the group chat. Probably with either Pinkie or Rarity, whoever stayed up longer she supposed.

Either way, she had a sandwich to demolish and a girlfriend to wait for.

Taking the first bite around the behemoth of a sandwich that she couldn't wrap her hands completely around, immediately the sides of it squished out, bits of egg, mayo and mustard, even drools of cheese dropped onto her plate but most of it ended up on her.

Not that Sunset minded. She was too busy savoring the flavor and going straight back for seconds, not even wanting to go half a second without that delicious taste in her mouth.

And of course, right in the middle of another ooey-gooey, disgustingly huge bite, that oozed another torrent of filling out either side, a sleepy and adorable Twilight walked into the kitchen still putting her glasses on and rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

“Good morning,” Twilight yawned, blinking the sudden glare of light from her eyes. “Where's the-” She paused.

Her girlfriend, her lover, the shining sun of her life, the only person in the entire world who was allowed to hear Twilight sing the entire Hamliton discography and survive laughing after, Sunset Shimmer, was overstuffing her mouth with breakfast goodness in the corner of her kitchen. Looking like the cat who caught the canary and realized that maybe dragging it inside wasn't such a good idea.

“...hi,” Sunset waved sheepishly, through a mumble mountain of egg, bread, cheese, and the kitchen sink. Quickly swallowing and trying hastily to appear back into her ‘bad girl’ persona, that they both knew she couldn't keep up around Twilight anyway, she sat up straight and flashed her best crooked smile. “I, uh, thought you were gonna sleep longer, heh.”

Twilight scrunched her nose and bit back an almost-laugh but truth be told she was more surprised seeing Sunset after her dream last night than the humorous situation she found her in. Call it a hunch but something felt off here.

Nonetheless she smiled and gave a snort-giggle as Sunset awkwardly tried to lick egg-yolk off her elbow.

“Here let me.” Ripping a napkin off the roll Twilight walked over and reached out, wiping up the yellow sticky mess Sunset got herself in.

“My hero,” Sunset overly swooned. Lacing her arms over her savior’s shoulders she looked deep into those plum round eyes. “Would my knight in shining armor—”

“Don’t bring my brother into this,” Twilight interrupted.

Sunset rolled her eyes, “would my ever so selfless savior, like some of mine sandwich thine mother had made?”

“Pass.” Twilight unhooked Sunset’s arms around her leaving her ever so aghast girlfriend Twilight-less.

Sunset made sure to demonstrate such terrible treachery was clearly unacceptable. “Oh! Oh! How thy lover wounds me so! How will I ever- oh shit—”

Due to her over dramatic hubris, Sunset had leaned back on the legs of her chair almost causing it, and therefore her, to topple over.

Quickly righting herself, she looked over at Twilight’s single raised eyebrow and awkwardly chuckled to herself, “okay, okay, I’ll stop.”

Twilight gave out a thankful sigh, bowl in one hand and a box of cereal in the other. “Good. I don’t think I could handle explaining to my mom why we need to go to the hospital,” she paused for a moment to think. “Again.”

Sunset watched as Twilight slid into the seat across her. “Hey, how was I supposed to know I was allergic to those plants!”

“Sunset, my best friend, my sun in my solar system, my favorite stress tester, and all around favorite person,” Twilight took Sunset’s hands and looked deep and tiredly into Sunset’s eyes. “It was poison ivy.”

“In my defense I first heard the name during the ride to the hospital.”

Twilight rolled her eyes and giggled, dumping a mound full of cereal in her milk-full bowl.

Sunset shook her head, good naturedly but still astonished. “How is it that you have the most wonderful mother who makes you an entire spread of breakfast whenever you like but you still choose to eat the same bran flakes every morning?”

Twilight shrugged away the conversation like she had a million times before. “I like consistency.”

“You are an enigma, Twilight Sparkle. Like those Disney show characters who pick an orange over waffles.” Sunset chuckled, wiping a torn chunk of toast around her syrup and egg drenched massacre of a plate.

“Excuse you, I would never sell my soul away to the mouse!” Twilight indignity gasped, clutching her imaginary pearls.

“Yeah, cus’ you already sold it to me.” Sunset punctuated with a wink between bites.

“Oh that reminds me,” Twilight began, letting the flirty mark fly over her head at mach speed to land at another date, likely late at night when embarrassment hits hardest. “I had the weirdest dream last night.”

“Was it like your house but not your house but just enough like your house so you knew it was your house?”

Twilight smacked her in the shoulder, making Sunset cackle with delight.

“So mean! Mean to me!” Twilight huffed and puffed angrily.

“I’m sorry but you make it so easy,” Sunset wiped the tears from her eyes as she took Twilight’s hand and fluttered her eyelashes. “Will you ever forgive me for this transgression, my love?”

Twilight didn’t even bother to play along as she made grabby hands at Sunset over the table. “Kisses. Gimme kissies.”

“As you wish, princess.”

The kiss was quick, a spigot of the affection that was bottled up between them, only releasing in small spurts of fingers brushing against each other, knowing looks across the room, and playing footsies under tables. But when hidden, alone with their other halves, that affection, that love, could swell to a crescendo, crashing down and smothering them in a haze that leaves them gasping for more.

For now, within this small moment between morning and night, between the world and their quiet sanctuary, it is small and docile. Fat and happy on the love they know they will share later.

Sunset pulled away first, delight still humming on her lips as she retook her seat from across the table. “You taste like mouthwash.”

“And you taste like maple syrup exploded in your mouth,” Twilight gagged, trying to push the sugary surface off her tongue. “I think I got all my sugar intake for the day just from that kiss.”

“Awww babe, are you saying I’m as sweet as sugar?” Sunset mockingly gushed.

Twilight, used to her antics, rolled her eyes and spooned another mound of cereal into her mouth. “I’m saying that if Pinkie doesn’t get diabetes first, you definitely will.”

Sunset pouted like a dog denied a treat. “Mean.”

“Oh bite me.”

“Kinky.” Sunset wiggled her eyebrows at the suggestion.

Twilight hit Sunset in the shoulder again, this time with much more force, but only managed to get her to push her into the crook of the breakfast nook, cackling all the while.

“Anyways,” Twilight began, swiftly moving on from the topic, “about my dream.”

Sunset nodded, foregoing the rest of her typical banter to listen, making a ‘go on’ gesture whilst chewing a bite of her sandwich.

“It was so,” she searched for the right word to describe the fever dream of a morning she had. “Surreal, I guess. You remember the sleep paralysis episodes I used to have?”

Sunset nodded slowly, swallowing a gargantuan bite and immediately tearing into another to hide her nerves.

“It was just like one of those, which I haven’t had in, gosh almost six months now? Has it really been that long? Anyways,” Twilight brushed the tangent away with her hand. “I was trapped, couldn’t move, and there was this pressure all around me.” Twilight clenched her chest involuntarily, shuddering at the fresh memory. “And then there was the beast.”

Sunset cut her off, making a thoroughly fake sounding ringing noise from the corner of her mouth before miming picking up a phone and putting it to her ear. “Hey Twi, first time caller, long time listener, big fan of your work, do you take constructive criticism?”

Twilight swallowed a spoonful of cereal. “No.” She shuffled around another spoonful of cinnamon dust and soggy bits of flakes in the bowl. “Also you call the radio station not the other way around. And this is my dream, that my subconscious made? How do you even criticize that?”

“With ease and skill.” Sunset proudly proclaimed, bits of sandwich dripping off her chin and back onto her plate.

Twilight reached over the table to tweak her nose playfully. “Stop distracting me with your womanly wiles.”

“I’ll stop when you stop.” Sunset playfully booped her back.

“Dork.”

“Nerd.”

Twilight rolled her eyes, “well as I was saying, when I was stuck, pinned from my paralysis, this absolute, massive beast of a creature came through my door. I had never seen anything like it! It was like someone had taken a gargoyle, you know the ones we made fun of that one time in church? It looked just like that but as a real, living and breathing thing.”

Twilight looked off in the distance for a moment, recalling the hazy memory of the almost quadruped that had made itself home in her room last night. It was a grainy blur, a cocktail mix of fear, sleep, and not wearing her glasses, yet she could still recall certain features.

The scrunched, layered, almost lion-like sneer, curled in the hook of its nose, the way its cheekbones sat high and sharp, curved proud like a bulls horn, even the sunken way its eyes had set, able to gaze far and wide to hunt prey, had an almost human look to it.

She remembered, whilst the sands of sleep slowly took her away, the small glimmer of a milk-white snaggletooth catching the lip of her blankets, briefly showing the dog-yawn pink innards of its mouth before it pulled away, giving out a doggy huff of frustration.

It was… docile in a way she did not expect a creature of that size to be. A herding dog, loyal only to its sheep. But then why her? Why protect her? Comfort her? Lay by her side until the lull of night whisked her away once more?

The more and more Twilight woke up the more she wanted to return to her bed, to maybe risk a peek at that creature once again. She felt giddy, excited at this new prospect. Like a kid who set into concrete plans to catch Santa Claus in the act, or planning out the perfect Halloween route weeks in advance. A childish glee she found she hadn’t felt in ages, not since opening her first edition Star Trek books two birthdays ago. It was addicting. Maddening. She wanted more. She wanted answers.

Shoveling spoonfuls of cereal into her mouth as quickly as non-chokingly possible, Twilight’s mind and hand twitched with notes and speculations, ghosting along a muscle memory keyboard.

“Twi?” Sunset gently reached out gently, knowing that when Twilight was in the zone she could be easily startled or overwhelmed with sudden touch. “Are you alright? You stopped talking all of a sudden.”

“Huh? Oh,” Twilight dumbly replied, returning back to the current time and place. “Sorry, just got to thinking about that creature I saw. Hey, do you think the library has any books on dream interpretation? Wait, never mind, I can just look it up.”

Before she could open her phone, Sunset hand filled her view and slowly set her phone to the table, a nervous, almost guilty look creeped on her face.

Attention fully secured, Twilight looked at her girlfriend with concern and worry. “Sunset? Is… everything alright?”

Sunset wearily sighed with the weight of a thousand sins and the knowledge she was about to take another. “Twilight, there's something I’ve got to tell you.”

“Of course, anything,” Twilight reassured, taking Sunset’s hand and giving it a firm squeeze.

“It's… I would say it would be easier to just show you, but I think that might have the opposite effect I’m going for, heh,” Sunset nervously chuckled before quickly shifting to clearing her throat seeing that her attempt at hiding behind humor was not working. “Look. This is going to be a lot all at once, and there's really no easy way to say this so I’m just gonna rip the bandaid off.” Sunset took a deep breath before finally, finally telling Twilight the bare, full, truth. “Magic is real and I’m magic- I mean, The Everfree Gargoyle.”

Staring into those high beam blue eyes Twilight felt a rhythm of silence swing back and forth between them, an anxious anticipation like waiting for a guillotine blade.

Sunset, however, felt like the prisoner trapped under the blade’s edge. It took all her strength and courage to not squeeze her eyes shut waiting for the inevitable end.

Woefully growing aware of just how long sixty seconds truly is, they stared at each other, both waiting for each other’s shoes to drop. Which, unfortunately for them, did not happen.

Instead, Twilight, still trying to grasp this impossibly, blinked dumbly at her girlfriend, trying, and failing, to verbalize her thoughts, before finally settling on;

“What. No. What? No….” Twilight paused, staring at her still swirling bowl, letting her glasses fall to the very tip of her nose, teetering on falling before looking back up. “But… but I didn’t see you last night.” Though she knew it to be true she felt it was a lie.

Turning to her girlfriend she looked into those pleading blue eyes and searched for a truth she could grasp logically.

“Are you sure? Like, one hundred and ten percent sure? Are you A.K Yearling book leak sure?” Twilight whispered, looking deep into Sunset’s eyes for any spark of deceit.

“Yes, Twilight, I am sure.” Sunset sighed, knowing that this was coming.

“But are you really, really, really sure?”

“Twi—”

“Like, what if this is actually just some sort of uhh uh,” Twilight searched desperately for anything, any kind of clue of reason, any scrap of her still remaining grasp of reality to hold on too. “Test! Is this some sort of new relationship trust test maybe? O-or maybe you’ve been inducted into a cult! Er- no wait-“

With each new step into the inevitable truth that she knew instinctively she could not avoid, Twilight dug her heels harder into the dirt and bit the hand of logic for any other possible outcome.

Even if that outcome was even crazier than the truth.

“-oh my god what if I sexed you into evil.” Twilight muttered, coming to an insane, crazy, absolutely absurd conclusion. “Sunset. Sunset. You have to tell me if I was the one who sexed you into evil. You have to tell me. Legally. It's the law. Sunset please.”

Sunset, knowing and loving her girlfriend and her ‘Twilight Freakouts’, who had prepared extensively for this moment mentally for this exact reason, did not know how to process that one.

“Did you. Sex me… into evil?” Sunset cautiously repeated, making sure she actually heard that correctly.

“Yes, did I sex you into evil. Yes or no, this is time sensitive, Sunset.” Twilight damned near shook Sunset’s brain out she was so frazzled.

So with a calm, and steadying breath, Sunset took Twilight’s hands off her shoulders and, with the best customer service voice she could muster, said, “no, Twilight. You did not sex me into becoming a demon.”

“Oh thank god.” Twilight almost melted into the floor from relief.

Yet the jitters of anxiety still pulsed through her nerves, and it wasn’t long before another onslaught of panic rushed from mind to mouth.

“But how do I know it was real? What if it was all just a dream? Or maybe some sort of practical joke Rainbow Dash is gonna put on her HayTube page.” Twilight paced up and down the kitchen, slowly running a hole in the tile floor. “A-and she used a terrifying, scary-sexy version of my girlfriend to make some sick joke for entertainment?!” Her words raced out as more of a question muddled by anxiety ridden accusations that did not accurately match their friend.

Twilight suddenly turned and jerked every which way to every corner that could and could not feasibly hide a camera.

Raising a fist she shook it like an angry believer at a spiteful God seeking to get its licks in. “I did NOT consent to my likeness being used for profit!

“Twi, Twi.” Like a spell, Sunset gently coaxed Twilight back in reality by speaking her into existence, a slow parting of the anxious clouds around her lonely ship at sea. “Baby, princess, light of my life,” Sunset took Twilight by the shoulders, sat her back down into the breakfast nook and gently took her hands into her own. “Deep breaths.”

Sunset took one of Twilight’s tightly wrapped fists and slowly eased it free one finger at a time, soothing her white tight knuckles until they returned back to a healthy pink. Taking a joint ached hand, Sunset pulled it towards her resting it upon her chest, taking easy, deep breaths for Twilight to follow.

“Follow my heart, Twi.” Twilight nodded dumbly, feeling the warmth of useless fire bloom across her skin. “That’s it. In and out. In and out. Just like a wave. You’re doing great.”

Slowly Twilight eased her eyes open, not even remembering when she had closed them, and watched the way the rough rind of Sunset’s thumb caressed across her knuckles with ease.

“…Is this part of it too?” she whispered half to herself and half to Sunset. “This… ease you have in our relationship… the way you always calm me down… is that ‘magic’ too?” Twilight saw the tears slowly cloud her view but she didn’t have the strength to pull away from those damned, damned hands. “Was… is our relationship even real?”

Sunset stopped. Her breathing, her blinking, even her heart stopped at that confession. None of it mattered. Not her body, not her mind. Her entire world was cracking at the seams and Sunset could do nothing but hold her and try to keep herself from falling apart.

“Yes, Gods above and below yes. I would never…” Sunset licked her lips, slowly remembering her human body. “Is there something I can do to prove it to you? Some…” Sunset searched for an idea, “some kind of test o-or experiment we can do so that I can prove to you that I would never, ever, harm you or force you to do something you didn’t want to do. Even if you were hesitant!”

Sunset pleaded like a mare begging her God for a drop of rain in the desert. “I would give it all up for you if I could. Everything. Even my name. Even my cutie mark. I will do anything to prove that I love you. Just say the word.”

She was on her knees, too weak to hold herself up, as she clutched to Twilight’s hands, her lifeline to this plane of existence.

Then a wet, somewhat broken chuckle, mostly tinted an anxious knee jerk reaction, bubbled up from Twilight’s chest. She smiled, knowing it wasn’t the place to do so but unable to stop it anyway.

“Can you,” another wet hiccup rang out from her lips. “Maybe we can start back at the beginning instead of… all that,” She leaned forward in her chair, letting the tears run through her teeth like clear salty rivers without care. “What are you, Sunset Shimmer? Other than someone I love.”

Sunset looked up, there was no otherworldly halo or a swell of music, just the quiet, almost somber morning that passed by without them. She let a grin get away from her as Twilight helped her up.

“Here I am begging on my knees to you when I was supposed to be the one comforting you,”she chuckled as she wiped her eyes clean from tears. “You’re too good for the world Twi, for me.”

She hunches over the well-worn, well-loved kitchen table, a summer smorgasbord of breakfast spread for a family she did not fit, a part of Sunset yearned for that make believe, cookie-cutter-family life.

Taking her sunburnt hand, Sunset clasps Twilight’s over her kitchen table. A prayer trapped like a million finches caught between her teeth.

Steeling herself, Sunset takes a breath then begins to speak. “There is no direct word, translation, myth, folktale for what I am. I'm more of a chimera of monsters; fey, demon, angel…” she trailed off looking into the world just outside the window. “I got compared to church grim once, which seems accurate in retrospect now, heh. Though, I guess for some people it’s all the same thing.”

Twilight stood up abruptly, ending Sunset’s self-depreciation spiel and marched around to her side of the table, stone faced and steady.

Dropping to one knee she took Sunset’s hands in hers, and with a look of steel-toed kindness that not even mountains could hope to move, Twilight spoke.

“A lot of people think of gargoyles as evil. Damned spirits, monstrous entities.” Twilight gently rubbed circles on the back side of Sunset’s hands, holding them steady as they shook with her every word.

“But the people who created them, carved them from stone, created them to protect people, buildings, carry water, even ward off evil with their features.” Twilight cradled Sunset’s face, letting her push her weight into her palm as she whispered in the quickly filling space between them, “they made them with love.”

Sunset let the coolness of Twilight soothe her, wash over her from head to toe like a much needed shower to cool her flames, leaving her with an obsidian pit of guilt settled across her.

Twilight brushed her thumb across Sunset’s eyelashes, gently easing them open and letting a fresh trail of tears stream down her face. The tears rolled down her cheek, picking up steam like rain hitting coals on an open campfire.

“When I see you I don't see a devil. I see a friend. A protector, someone who breaks controllers when games are too hard and who puts hot sauce on ice cream and steals my fries at lunch, but only the soggy ones,” that made them both giggle at the memory as Twilight leaned her forehead against Sunset’s. “I see my girlfriend. I see Sunset Shimmer. If need be I will carve you from your self-doubt until you can see the love I have for you as easily as breathing.”

Sunset sniffled, snotty and gross, “You can’t do that…”

“If you can get away with only two weeks detention after doing a kickflip off the school’s roof, I think I can say a couple nice things about my girlfriend.” Twilight rolled her eyes before thinking more on her shirt, “wait is this why you didn’t break your ankles doing that?”

Sunset barked out a full throated laugh, something that came from deep in her chest and didn’t shy behind its joy.

Twilight smiled, not grinned or smirked, truly let a smile run away from her face, teeth beaming against the soft crest of Sunset’s throat as she laughed.

But of course, Sunset then opened her big mouth.

“You say that but what you saw wasn’t even my true form.” Sunset murmured as she leaned down to nuzzle Twilight’s head.

“Pause.” Twilight pulled away and looked blankly at her girlfriend, but still kept a firm grip on her. “What.”

Sunset tried to explain, “It’s complicated and—”

Before Twilight cut right in, “You were the gargoyle right? The one that almost cracked my doorway in half?”

“Well, yes—” Sunset attempted again before being interrupted, again.

“You mean to tell me that you get BIGGER?” Twilight nearly yelled, blushing fiercely at the image of an even bigger Sunset.

“Maybe I should just show you? I don’t want there to be any more secrets between us.”

Twilight strengthened her grip in Sunset’s shirt and immediately pulled her into crashing their lips together and before she could react Twilight pulled away and said with a desperation typically reserved for a woman on her deathbed.

“PLEASE.”

“I really, really, really- Have I emphasized this enough? I’m gonna say it one more time- Really, don’t think this is a good idea.” Sunset anxiously fiddled with the straps of her tank top, looking around the Sparkle’s manicured, and more importantly, private, backyard.

“You promised no more secrets between us.” Twilight reached out a hand and brushed a stray lock of hair from Sunset’s sight. “Besides, you would never hurt me intentionally.”

“That’s the kind of thing people say before getting hurt!” Sunset waved her arms around in nervous anticipation, before starting to pace up and down the well-groomed lawn. “Oh yak-shit on a stick what if someone calls the cops, o-or the FBI? I can’t get probed again, Twilight. It was weird enough when Pinkie did it that one time by accident.”

“How do you… You know what? I’ll ask about that later. Hopefully with a bottle of aspirin to help the migraine.”

“Look I won’t force you to do it, I can wait until the day I’m dead if that means you’ll be happy and comfortable.”

“No.” Sunset stated, tone firm and unwavering. “I’m gonna do it, complaining just helps build my nerve.”

Sunset tried to shake her hand dry, awkwardly waddling around the side of the house, trying to not let her pits touch her body.

Twilight giggled at the sight before noticing strands of leathery skin, stretched taut and pulled till crackling, around Sunset’s joints. She almost said something about it, but Sunset had already turned the corner and she didn’t want to make Sunset more nervous than need be.

Rocking on the balls of her feet, she waited for Sunset to return, trying not to take a peek around the corner.

She expected something, a sickening crack of bones, the sound of tearing flesh, perhaps it was all the werewolf media she indulged in late at night with no one as witness, but there was nothing. Just the sounds of late morning life humming through the air, trees blowing in the wind, a quiet slice of suburban life.

Twilight wouldn't say, especially to Sunset’s face, that she expected more fanfare, definitely didn’t day dream about a big powerful beast of a creature holding her down as it whispered sweet nothings in her ear. She should clear out her search history after this.

Quietly mulling over when she could sneak away to wipe the saved stories on her computer, a thump and rumble came from behind her. Not loud enough to peak any nosy neighbors' interest, but enough to make you pause and go ‘huh, wonder what that was,’ before continuing on with your day.

But of course, Twilight knew better, and with a deep breath to steel herself she turned around and was met with an indescribable sight.

An ever changing, moving, shifting pile of animals, blending the line of mythical and reality.

Its slithering scaled, sparse furred, loose skin, packed-dirt-colored flesh, with scales as big as stones, and squirming as sharp and unnaturally as a wave of glass water.

Molting, shedding, peeling, twisting in on itself into a plume of velvet brown feathers, that in turn grow further up in what could be considered its scalp, into a laurel of that morning-gray-blue that only time and age can normally claim. Before upon its roots was healthy human hair growth, mystery oil slicked with and parted divisively along its bone-studded spine.

Its first face, head, mask, being, was worn like a hunter's skin stretched into a jawless yawn across its lower half. A face that snapped at rabbits heels and ate maggot drenched carcasses.

Ears furred and long, pointed with an ever present attention. With twin horns, still fresh from spring's dew and winter’s shadow, thorny with new beginnings, with the barest hint of raspberry ripe sheddings along its keratin velvet softness.

Its muzzle, squared forever into a look of sheer disdain of existence, curled around its dog-yawn-pink edges, molars full of coffee-colored downy feathers, and the middle of mouth fat with yellowed fangs.

Eyes pitched forward, cardinal red and sepia ringed with a forever turning rage, with furrowed brows adorned with ash licked whiskers.

Its underbelly, jawless and throatless, bobbed with an Adam's apple of sin the size of a man's entire barrel chest. Spurts of hair, flags of fur, and a myriad of stray pin-feathers, tacked and tied between folds of skin and scale. Before abruptly shifting into a shock of blue-jay, hawk, sparrow, along with every other suburban bird you could feasibly imagine, feathers.

Its many milk-tooth white tassels drooped low, layered over and under each other, some bleeding into teeth rather than fraying fabric. Some teeth swayed in the breeze with the layered mirage of fraying flesh and some tassels glistening solid with hungry saliva strung under canid rubber-black lips and tucked between russet brown fur, a brindle of teeth, sinew, and hide.

A many beaded treasures, strung along its flesh given brindle, hung low, teeth in of themselves, pops of reds and yellows, before melting into browns and blacks of oil dipped feathers. But the real prize was within its inner face. Its shedding second body was a clack of raven’s beak mashed together haphazardly with the black ichor of a hercules beetle’s jaw, with spikes to match.

The briefest hint of inky spilt feathers could be seen around its second set of eyes, prey sat into the sides of its skull. A blooming pupil of red and yellow and petals just hidden beneath its snarled upper maw.

A ring of white, a stark seafoam of light, lifted the ebony curtain between the feathers, shining them a blue-green, showcasing the void of skin underneath, as if its inner head was made entirely of feathers with no flesh to bind it too.

And this was only what was first visible under the blanket of shadows.

For a burly, thick, grey with middle age human arm extended from underneath its feathery underbelly. With ochre blunted nails and dirt packed joints, pointed and angled inhumanly as it grasped the ground to walk forward.

Its twin forearm, less arm, more claw, an amalgamation of curled talons and shaggy gaunt fingers and a bony wrist. Feathers poked from its inverted elbow into the mirage of colors above.

As another arm slowly slid behind the first, a lion’s paw given human fingers and craggy claws that tapped-tapped-tap across the ground, like rain hitting a tin roof. Its bulky elbow, popped out from where its socket should have been, covered in a plume of feathers and human hair then back to fur.

Chunky coarse fleeces, carpet, and serape’s, tasseled and starched, some stripped, some patterned, in dusty blues and oranges, layered on and on over the creature’s supposed barrel.

A thick raccoon-black band hunched over a small camel-like bump underneath the top-most serape, with two beady little eyes poking out, like a children’s idea of a monster under the bed.

But what really drew Twilight’s eye was the bearskin taxidermy, forever stuffed in a frozen roar, not one of might or rage, but one of true, adrenal fear. Fangs still slobbering with glints of blood.

Its heavy paws hung low across its barrel, chiming in time with the arm-like-feet that held itself up, as the pitch black claws scraped against its forearms.

Twilight didn’t know what to do. What to say, think, if she should even move. Her mind was blank, her body made of stone. She felt trapped. Encased with feelings of impossibility, of magic, true and real magic. She was a stone at the mercy of a wave of inevitability of everything she had ever conceivably thought real about the world around her.

And yet she felt calm.

Not at peace, certainly not peace, but inhumanly calm in the face of myth. The kind of creature that started and ended religions.

Was this Sunset’s doing? Holding down the bubbling pressure that threatened to make her pass out? She didn’t know. She couldn’t even ask, her tongue was glued to the roof of her mouth.

So she just watched mind blank, as the beast that was once her girlfriend, slowly crept around the house until it stood less than a foot away, towering over her.

She wasn’t sure where to look. Which face was the right face, if there even was a right face to look at. Was it improper to look over all the faces? What if she had crossed some sort of fae magic courtesy line? What if she was now forcibly betrothed in the eyes of magic to Sunset because she had looked at the wrong face? Why was she okay with that????

From none of her inhuman maws and mouths, a voice undoubtedly Sunset’s yet more powerful, more magical, than Twilight could have ever dreamed slowly ricocheted like a pinball machine through Twilight’s bones.

“Is this… okay?” Tepid and afraid. Just like last night.

Immediately, any fear, any hesitance, any foolish thought that might have held her back, melted away as Twilight strode forward and cupped that monstrous face with a gentleness she didn’t know she had in her.

“Yes.” Twilight brushed the feeling of fur, feather, and hair against Sunset’s underside. “More than okay.”

Standing on her tiptoes, going as far as she could reach and then some, she pressed a kiss between the furrowed brows of the hunter-skin face. Without doubt she loved Sunset Shimmer.

Twilight Velvet, on the second story of her home, looked out a window as her daughter hugged this chimera amalgamation that looked like it came from hell itself, and cooed at the sight.

“About time. I was running out of trash bags to hide all of Sunset’s feathers in the garage,” she muttered over laundry, expertly picking off one of said feathers from the back of her daughter’s shirts. “Should probably tell her how we found out before she did.”

“My mom hit you with the CAR?”

“Ah,” Twilight Velvet sighed, “the duties of a mother never stop.”

Author's Note

Hello! I hope yall like chapter two and I fulfilled your expectations :) I had lots of fun with this chapter! And may even do a prequel of velvet and nighlight hitting sunset with their car but not this month, I just wrote five full fics and am exhausted lmao

Also, if you're curious this is what Sunset "true form" looks like, I wonder if she perhaps had a run in with a certain draconequus when she fell through the portal hm??

This art was made by my friend over on twitter! Their handle is @Adooke1 please go check them out :)