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The sun shone down through stained glass windows, the geometric flowers twirling around the glass like the ivy that wove down the cobblestone walls outside. Small bits of dust danced in the light, twirling around and around until they fell onto the plush carpeting beneath Lafayette’s feet. His shoes laid on the floor, long ago discarded in favor of barefoot dancing around with the specks of dust. Dark coiled curls of hair flew behind him as he danced, spreading out and falling back to Earth harmoniously with each rise and fall. No music played, and yet it was as if he were in a royal ball thrown in honor of his lovers. Sure, such a thing would almost certainly never happen, but in small, stolen fragments of moments like these, couldn’t a man dream?“My loves, why are you not dancing along with me? The lack of music is nothing to fear, so why must you lay there so idle?” Lafayette asked, out of breath as he leaned over the back of the couch, burying his face in John’s golden curls. They were always so soft, curled and warm from the heat of the sunlight, and even more golden. However, when Lafayette’s skin touched John’s hair, it was a dull yellow, and straight and scratchy as straw. Pulling away momentarily, Lafayette noticed that the entirety of John’s hair was, in truth, seemingly made of straw. Almost as if he had been replaced by a scarecrow. No, such idle thoughts would do no good, especially when it was clear that John had simply dyed his hair and straightened it in effort to please Lafayette. Humming softly as he tried to think, Lafayette quickly decided to make the best of the situation, and prove to John that he would be seen as the gorgeous man he had always been, scarecrow-esque or not.Lafayette pulled himself onto the couch, and brought John into his lap, kissing him gently. Once more, Lafayette found himself pulling away from John and staring at him curiously. “My love, why do your kisses taste like burlap? You are not kissing me back, and your lips are so incredibly rough against my own… What has gotten into you as of late? You and Alexander are so silent, I do not see you eat, and neither of you are speaking to me… You do not even turn your gaze to see me, instead they stay focused on what is ahead of you, like they have been painted on some sort of stray piece of fabric by careless hands....”In that moment, John fell forward and his face laid buried against Lafayette’s chest, just in the way he usually would when… oh. Not wasting a singular moment, Lafayette pulled John to his chest and stood, carrying John to their bed as quickly as possible. He pressed gentle kisses to John’s neck (which felt strangely like two pieces of fabric sewn together) as he carried his lover to bed, making gentle, quiet promises of affection as he did so. Once they reached the bed, Lafayette gently laid him down, pressing kisses down his chest as he pulled down John’s breeches, beginning to stroke his cock, which laid slightly limp, but not too much so for Lafayette to begin.He grabbed the oil, rubbing it along his fingers, and pushed one inside John before moaning in surprise and pleasure. “Oh dear, my love, you’ve stretched yourself for me already, haven’t you? My John, my perfect Jack, oh how I adore you…”Lafayette pulled his trousers down just enough to pull out his cock, already hard and aching with need. He coated his cock in the oil and placed his hands on John’s soft hips, before slowly easing himself inside his lover, so slow and gentle and- and-...Wait a minute.John’s tight ass didn’t feel like the inside of a… a… a scarecrow. Pulling his cock out, Lafayette rubbed his eyes and looked down at John, realizing for the first time that John was, in fact, a scarecrow. Pulling himself back into his breeches, Lafayette sprinted from the room, to tell his Alexander that John had been replaced, that they’d been fooled for god only knows how long. By the time Lafayette had made it to their sitting area, however, he saw Alexander’s face, unblinking, unliving, and knew that Alexander had been replaced, too.And then he knew exactly what he had to do.Running to their pond, anger coursing through his veins, Lafayette set his mind on the only thing he knew he could still depend upon. He knelt at the edge of the pond, and spoke the singular phrase that he’d prepared, that he’d saved for the day when something utterly terrible occured.“Muffin, it’s time for attack.”Muffin the turtle poked their head out of the water and nodded solemnly up at Lafayette, before grabbing their boots and leaving the pond. Lafayette pulled Muffin’s boots onto their tiny little feet and whispered quietly the events of the day, Muffin taking in all of the information they heard. Once the whole story had been efficiently conveyed, Muffin pressed a small kiss to Lafayette’s hand and ran off to where he knew John would be.“I’m coming for ya, John,” Muffin whispered, a single tear running down their face.
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The bar was crowded, smoke drifting through the air as laughter and half-remembered stories echoed through the room. Wooden walls radiated the warmth of the stone fireplace, where many stood by for the heat. Some people danced around the entire room, alcohol sloshing in his mug, while others still sat at their tables, playing cards and losing rent money. However, a singular individual sat at the counter, atop a tall stool as they downed their mead in silence. Around them, people drank and partied, enjoying the night, while the person simply chose to ignore the joy around them.Muffin sauntered up to the stranger, their boots clicking against the floor in a steady pattern, like a rickety rocking chair, not unlike the one in their old home… but Muffin had other priorities. Reminiscing would do them no good now, when their Jacky was stuck somewhere far away. Breathing in deeply, ignoring the burn in their lungs from the smoky air, Muffin spoke.“What can you tell me about Thomas Jefferson?” Muffin asked, leaning against the counter as they stared up at the stranger beside them, their boots clacking against the legs of their seat.“Thomas Jefferson?” The stranger asked, eyeing Muffin as they took a long swig of their drink, staining their dark upper lip a strange shade of pink-orange. “I haven’t heard that name in years… What do you need to know about the monster?”“You call him a monster,” Muffin began, cocking an eyebrow as they eyed the man beside them. “Mulligan, you’ve always thought the best of people- what’s changed now?”“He… He asked me to sew him some undergarments, in a size far too small for himself to have worn,” Hercules spat, narrowing his eyes at Muffin as he continued speaking in a near-growl in pure spite. “He wanted… He asked me to sew sequins… Sequins onto plaid, the bastard! Have you ever heard of such a disgrace to fashion?! That man, that imbecile asked me, the royal tailor, to sew him an undergarment that was a horrid mess of plaid and sequins! Don’t know how the bastard can even sleep at night…”“...How large were the undergarments meant to be, around the hips, if you don’t mind my asking?” Muffin inquired, leaning toward Hercules as they spoke, biting their lip as they remembered something crucial. Back when Muffin had first become part of John’s family, all they had wanted to do was properly hug him. However, due to their lack of large enough arms, they had been forced to sew arm attachments that fit snugly around John’s hips in order to give him a comforting hug.“Thirty-seven and a half inches- I’d never forget the details no matter how much mead I drink,” Hercules muttered as he took another swig of his drink, shutting his eyes tightly as to block out the horrid memories. “But why do you need to know that? Planning on mixing polka dots with vertical stripes, huh? Or glitter on sequins, huh?!”“Mulligan, calm down, you’re drunk,” Muffin told him, patting his back gently as they stood up fully, ready to leave the bar. They had almost all the information they would need, and now, it was only a matter of time before they discovered what else they would need. “And Thomas needed the garment to be delivered where, exactly?”“Fifth floor, East wing of the castle, the rooms near his office with green doors,” Hercules spat, obviously done with the conversation and hailing the bartender for another glass if the ale that so drowned his woes. “It’s a shitty shade of green, too, can’t even believe they chose it with the neon orange walls… I oughta kill him myself…”“Don’t worry, that’ll all be taken care of,” Muffin promised, narrowing their eyes in determination as they fixed the edges of their boots. “Hate how these damn boots are made- they only come in men’s and women’s sizes, but none for Muffins. I’ll have to commission another pair… This one will have too many bloodstains by the time I’m done with ‘em.”