#Gear station family au

[kelpiemomma]

Rolling around a modern au where Ingo never got yeeted to Hisui and Akari still isn't dawn, but she does look an incredible amount like her. Akari works at gear station with the twins and bc she looks like dawn people often mistake her for the Sinnoh champ. Akari is the youngest of the gear station crew so everyone is constantly looking out for "the baby" (affectionate) Making sure the baby has her lunch, making sure the baby has all her hygiene needs, keeping the baby safe from people who want dawn's autograph or a battle. Akari left her family at the first chance, so the support of the gear station crew means everything to her. Maybe someone, a leftover from team galactic or team plasma, mistakes her for Dawn and thinks they'll get revenge on her and abduct her. Except they made a mistake, because they took gear station's baby and there will be hell to pay.

[ew-selfish-art]

Dp x dc AU - If the Internation Space Station orbits the Earth 16 times a day, then so does the Watchtower.

Danny’s on track to move out of his parent’s house and move to Gotham for college (He swears that Sam bribed the board to let him in- and she wasn’t even going to that university!) but the dorms don’t open for another three days and he cannot wait to escape. Seeing his parents try to perfect yet another weapon to use against him while he changed out the ecto filters on the portal was too much. He’s completely over the idea of staying when he already has everything packed and ready to go.

The solution? Take all his boxes into his haunt in the Ghost Zone, leave them there and then spend some time in camping in space. He’s already explored the Infinite Realms enough to be bored of it for a minute (not to mention he wants to avoid getting more ‘favors’ to do from Clockwork) and hell, he just wants to see some stars.

He grabs his tent, a sleeping bag and all the food and things he could need and brings it into the atmosphere with him. Keeping it all tethered to him, Danny stays in a fixed position above Gotham (Cause that’s where he’s going next, duh) and treats himself to some quality Me-time.

Only problem is that several times a day he has to make himself intangible while he lets satellites and things pass through. Easy enough and honestly pretty interesting to observe as a wannabe engineering student.

He doesn’t know when exactly it happened the first time- but it turns out the Heroes of Earth all congregated in a satelite office building? It was bigger than the ISS! What the heck!?

Going intangible but not invisible, the JL spot Danny and are incredibly confused how an ‘Alien’ teen just happens to appear in their meeting rooms disappearing at the rate (slowly but surely) of the Watchtower moving through space. Was that camping gear? How was he roasting a marshmallow? Did propane camping stoves even work in space??

16 times a day they get the opportunity to ask Danny a few questions. He mostly ignores them or gives them joke answers. Eventually Martian Manhunter phases through the Watchtower to join him.

They talk about how hard transition periods in life can be and having strained relationships with family. J’ohn returns to the watchtower on its next cycle and reports that the kid is just fine, being an adult is just a hard thing to do.

[kwanisms]

Kinktober 「10:03」 — b.chris, l.felix

» stray kids menu | bang chan menu | felix menu | kinktober masterlist «

➮ bunyip!Chris × fem!reader × bunyip!Felix wc: 6.6k summary: Y/N is convinced her map is wrong when she finds herself utterly lost on what was supposed to be a short hike from her camp. When she comes upon a small river and stops to fill her canteen, she finds more than water waiting for her. genres/themes/au: angst/fluff/smut; supernatural, horror, thriller; non idol au, monster idol au warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, supernatural and horror themes, mild existential dread of being lost in the middle of nowhere, mentions of: camping, getting lost, Australian Outback; sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut! taglist has been moved to reblogs join my taglists! taglist for kinktober is CLOSED. Strikethrough means I cannot tag you. MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED. AGELESS BLOGS WILL ALSO BE BLOCKED.

a/n: this was a LOT of fun to write! I would have like to added more but time crunches are real lol this also serves as Chris' birthday post! so hbd to Chris! bunyips are an interesting mythology because reports of what they look like vary but about 60% of sightings claim they look very seal-like so that's the direction i went in. i also slightly changed the prompt to include "him" cause Y/N is sandwiched between them lol anyways, thanks for reading! the next part is oni!Jeonghan so stay tuned as always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only.

smut warnings: teratophilia (aka monsterfucking), threesome, water sex, unprotected sex (do not do), oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), dom!Chris, switch!Felix, sub!Reader, use of pet names (hers: babe, baby, sweetheart, angel, honey; Chris: sir; Felix: babe), and that should be all of it but let me know if I missed some. kinks: Threesome + pool/water sexdialogue prompt: ❛❛ Make Me. ❜❜ + ❛❛ God, you’re so beautiful when you’re fucked out under me/us/him. ❜❜

═══════════════════════════════════════════════════════

When you first told your family and friends about your plans to brave the wilderness of Central Australia during a solo backpacking trip, they were quick to insist you didn't partake in such a daring feat. They called you insane, pleaded with you to reconsider but you had been determined to prove you could do it, taking months of survival and wilderness courses in preparation.

After several months of courses, collecting the appropriate gear, you were certain you were ready for your trip through the Tjoritja / West MacDonnell National Park. The flight from Brisbane to Alice Springs took just over 3 hours where you took a bus to the telegraph station where the Larapinta Trail Head was located. You had everything you needed; water, camping gear, food, and a satellite phone with a solar charger.

Everything had been carefully planned out, permits obtained, and you were ready to start your trip.

Or so you thought.

The first section of the trail took you from the telegraph station to the first campground at Simpsons Gap. The trail was just under twenty five kilometers and took roughly nine hours to complete. The trail had been mostly deserted despite being quite popular in the area. The next day, you visited the gap, snapping a few pictures before packing up and heading to the next spot.

This stretch was longer, at just over 26 kilometers, and it actually took less time at eight and a half hours. You stayed in the campground at Jay Creek with another camper which was an older couple who shared their dinner with you. That night you slept better than the first and when you awoke in the morning, you were the first to head out.

The next few days went by without incident and you were finally about to start the last section of the first half of the trail. The next section would take you from Hugh Gorge to Ellery Creek. At a distance of nearly twenty-nine kilometers, it would take between ten and eleven hours to complete. After spending the night near Hugh Gorge and replenishing your stores, you headed on your way. 

Your first stop was Hugh View before continuing on. Your plan was to stop at the next campground, Rocky Gully, where you would camp for the night. The hike from Hugh Gorge campsite to Rocky Gully only took a few hours which left you some time to explore the surrounding area.

You set up your camp at the abandoned campsite, taking a small bag to go on your small trip to explore the nearby area, following the trails around the campsite and following them east and south. You snapped pictures, hiking through the brush and taking in the sights.

After following the paths you came to a horrific realization.

You were lost.

You dug through your back but couldn’t find a compass and immediately started cursing yourself. You tried backtracking but somehow got even more lost. As you scanned the area, you started to look around for any potential water sources. Each step took you further and further away from camp.

Your water container had started to run empty and the sun was almost at its highest point in the sky. You needed water and you needed it soon. 

As you walked further, you climbed over the crest of a small hill and felt relief flood your body as you spotted a glimmer in the near distance. It was a small natural channel with water at the base. Upon moving closer, you could tell the water was a decent depth, maybe about to your waist.

The water was dark but when you dipped your hand under the surface, you could see it was surprisingly clear. To be safe, you would use a purification tablet. Opening the top of your canteen, you dipped it just under the surface, allowing water to flow in and showing you that there was a slow moving current as you filled your receptacle.

“Thank God,” you whispered as you stood up straight and pulled your bag forward to dig out one of the purification tablets and drop it into the canteen. As you started to turn away, you heard a soft splash and turned to look behind you. Scanning the water, you saw nothing. “Probably my imagination,” you murmured, bringing the lid of your canteen up to screw it on.

As you moved to step forward there was another, much larger, splash and you felt a presence arise from the water behind you. A loud roar startled you and you were too shocked to move. Your flight or fight response didn’t kick in, instead you froze.

“Wh-what the hell?!” you yelled as you felt something grab your ankle, pulling back and forcing you to fall to the ground. It had a firm grip on you and pulled again, dragging you back towards the water and away from your pack. You clawed at the red dirt, desperately trying to find something to grab onto but came up empty.

Your canteen lay forgotten, water spilling out of it and soaking the ground under it as you were pulled down into the ditch. You screamed, kicking at whatever had a hold of you, fearing the worst. Water enveloped your lower half and had you not been fighting for your life, it might have felt nice in the hot Australian sun.

Finally you managed to turn yourself over and your eyes widened in shock. A massive creature, the size of water buffalo but it was not a water buffalo. It had an almost panther-like appearance but something about it was vaguely seal-like. It had sleek black fur, black eyes with bright green irises.

It opened its mouth, displaying its teeth, all of them looked like they could tear you to shreds. You let out a scream, bringing your arms up to shield your head. Though, with an animal this large, there was no way it couldn’t just bite you in half. You chanced a glance through your arms at the creature. 

It hovered over you, its hot breath fanning over you with each pant as it stared you down. You let out whimper, shielding your face once more as you silently begged for it to not kill you. You heard the creature shift away, the heat of its breath disappearing. You waited for a few moments, only uncovering your head when you heard a splash in the water.

The creature was gone.

You sat up and looked around, expecting to see it lying in wait to ambush you but saw nothing. Looking down you saw that you were half submerged in the water and sighed in frustration as you attempted to stand up but you felt a hand close around your ankle again, yanking you back down into a sitting position. You let out a yelp, water splashing around you.

Seconds later, a head appeared, emerging from the water. Topped with short bluish green hair with waves and curls and a pair of striking green eyes that looked back at you. Your heart hammered wildly in your chest as you watched the head rise further, revealing the face of a handsome man. As he lifted his head from the water, he tilted it to one side, almost as if he was curious by the sight of you.

His shoulders followed, the water stopping about midway down his chest. His bare chest. You tried not to stare but it was evident that he was not wearing clothes but you didn’t want to think about that. “What the…” you trailed off as you looked at him. A smile graced his face. You half expected to see pointed teeth but instead were met with surprisingly human teeth.

“What are you?” you asked softly. The man tilted his head in the opposite direction. Paired with the smile it was slightly unsettling but he dropped the smile, a look of confusion passing over his features. He seemed to be mimicking your expression as your brows rose, so did his. “Wh-what are you?” you asked again, a little louder. He straightened up, moving through the water towards you, climbing up the slope. As more of his skin was exposed, it seemed that the silky black fur melted away to expose his golden skin tone as he crawled over you.

Soon he had you pinned, unable to get away as he looked down at you. He wasn’t answering your questions and you decided to change tactics. “Do you er… have a name?” A look of excitement came over his face and he opened his mouth. 

Whatever you were expecting to come out of him was not what you got. In a voice you weren’t expecting from what you could only assume was a creature you’d just seen, he answered. “Yeah, I’m Chris,” he said, a slight accent you recognized. It wasn’t too different from yours.

“Ch-Chris?” you asked, feeling slightly relieved when he nodded eagerly. “And he’s Felix,” he added, jerking his thumb over his shoulder towards the left. You turned your head, almost letting out another scream when you saw another pair of bright green eyes staring at you from just above the surface of the water. The head raised and you were surprised that this one looked so different from the first.

‘Is this some sort of mimicry technique?’ you wondered to yourself as you looked between the two.

The second one, Felix, was equally as handsome and looked like some kind of model. He had freckles littering his nose and cheeks, looking like stars dotting the sky. His hair was longer than Chris’, blond and swept back, a few strands framing his face. He had a much slender build.

“F-Felix?” you asked, looking at Chris. The one named Felix nodded, moving closer, his body gliding through the water with ease. “What’s your name?” he asked, his voice, which was much deeper, took you by surprise. “Y/N,” you answered as he neared you, also crawling up the slope of the embankment until the water hit just above his navel. Or where you assumed a navel would be.

You felt a hand on your knee under the water and your attention snapped back to Chris. “What’re you doing?” you asked, trying to squirm away but a firm hand held you down. “You can’t leave,” Chris said sternly. You looked from him to Felix and back. “Wh-why?”

“Because,” Chris started. “You took something from our stream,” Felix interjected, resting his head in his hand as he stared up at you. “You’re really pretty,” he added with a smile. “Th-thanks — wait, timeout,” you said, holding up your hands. “What exactly did I take?” you asked, looking up at Chris.

He nodded at the top of the embankment. You followed your gaze to find he was looking at your canteen which was occasionally dripping water onto the dirt. You turned back to Chris. “Water?” you asked. “The water I spilled when that.. that thing — grabbed my ankle?”

Chris looked mildly offended at your words. “I’m not a thing,” he retorted. “I’m a bunyip.” Your eyes widened as you stared at him. ‘A bunyip? The legendary maneater from Aboriginal mythology?’ You turned your gaze towards Felix who raised his brows, giving you a flash of a smile before you turned back to Chris. “You’re that creature?” you asked softly. Chris nodded.

“We both are,” Felix added. “Well, not the one you saw,” he clarified. “That was all Chris,” he explained. “Grabbing your ankle and yanking you down. I was over there.” Felix pointed down the way to where a log was sticking out of the water.

You nodded slowly. “But you’re still the same… creature?” you asked. Felix nodded. “Bunyip,” he corrected. You turned back to Chris. “I only took some water because I’m lost,” you explained. “I went for a hike and now I can’t find my way back to my camp.”

“That’s unfortunate,” Felix said, still resting his head in his hand as he stared at you. “Very unfortunate,” Chris chimed in. “But you still took without giving and now that water has been wasted. Not very nice of you in a place like this,” he continued. You glared up at him. 

“I only spilled that water because you grabbed me by the ankle and dragged me backwards. I wouldn’t have dropped the canteen if you hadn’t done that!” Chris turned his head to lock eyes with Felix before his gaze returned to you. 

“Regardless,” he started. “You still took from us and we demand a toll.” You stared incredulously at him, “A toll? For water? In the outback?” you asked. “Are you fucking kidding me!?” You looked between the two who merely stared at you. Clearly this wasn’t some joke or prank. “You’ve got to be kidding! We’re in the middle of the fucking desert!” you snapped. Chris leaned forward, making you lean away, your back pressing against the dirt embankment. 

“Do I look like I’m kidding, sweetheart?” he asked, tilting his head. His close proximity rendered you speechless as you stared up at him. “Wh-what do you want?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. Chris glanced at Felix who had moved, shifting closer to where the two of you were.

“Just a toll,” Chris finally answered. “Payment for the water you took and then spilled.” A frown formed on your face. You were about to respond but Felix spoke instead. “I think the spilling was your fault. You can’t fault the poor thing from her reaction when you grabbed her by the ankle and knocked her down. You don’t even have ankles,” Felix countered. Chris glared at him before sighing. “Fine,” he said.

“Just for taking the water then,” he said. “I don’t have money on me,” you said softly. Chris chuckled. “That’s alright, sweetheart,” he said, reaching a hand up to caress your cheek. “We don’t want your money,” Felix added. He was now right next to you. “That’s not the kind of toll we want.”

‘If they didn’t want money, what could they possibly want?’

“Then what do you—” you started, your words failing when Chris leaned in closer.

“We want you,” he interrupted. You stared up at him, eyes wide, like you were prey, caught in the eyes of a predator. “M-me?!” you asked, your voice cracking. You felt fingers brush your arm and turned to look at Felix. “Yes,” he said softly, giving you an angelic smile. “We want you, honey.”

You looked between them again. “Like… to eat?” you asked. Chris and Felix exchanged looks before they both burst into laughter. “You think we want to eat you?” Chris asked, his laughter subsiding. If they didn’t want to eat you, what could they possibly want?

“Okay,” you said softly. “Now I’m confused.”

“That’s alright, baby,” Chris said softly, resting his weight on top of you. “Would you like me to explain or would you rather we just show you?” he asked, his lips ghosting over yours. A shiver ran up your spine as the realization settled in. They didn’t want to eat you.

They wanted to fuck you.

The idea should have been preposterous. Not one, but two massive legendary creatures known for killing and eating people wanted to fuck you. You should have been sent screaming for the hills but instead you were intrigued. The forms they took on were much better to look at than the massive seal-like creature you’d initially seen but would they stay that way? Or was it a ploy to get you to agree and then actually eat you?

A million questions were swirling inside your brain but you only managed to ask a few.

“Will you stay like that?” you asked, gesturing to him. A smile crossed Chris’ face as he realized you were actually considering his and Felix's proposition. “Of course,” he answered. “Wouldn’t want to scare you off,” he added with a wink. “And you promise you aren’t going to eat me?” you asked.

Chris snorted, laughing in a low tone. “We aren’t going to eat you,” he replied. “Speak for yourself,” Felix said, giving you a very smirk as his eyes roamed over your body. “I’ll eat something,” he added. 

Chris rolled his eyes. “Down, boy,” he said before returning his attention to you. “Any other questions?” he asked, cocking his head to the left. “Are we doing this right here? Out in the open?” you asked, looking around the ditch. Chris scoffed, sounding almost indignant when he spoke.

“You think we would do that? Have you out in the open where anyone could just walk right up and watch?” he asked. You shrugged wordlessly. You didn’t know what was going on in their heads. It wasn’t like you did this often. You’d never been in a position like this before.

Chris shook his head. “No,” he said softly. “We’ll take you back to our lair,” he continued. More private, and out of the sun,” he added, looking towards the sky. “And much cooler,” Felix chimed in. “How does that sound?” he asked, caressing your arm. “A nice and cool spot where we can have you all to ourselves?” You swallowed the lump that had formed in your throat before nodding slowly.

“It’s settled,” Chris said, sitting back up and holding out his hand. You stared at it for a moment before taking it and allowing him to pull you up. “Where are we going exactly?” you asked as Felix moved, shifting to the middle of the stream. “Our home,” he said, dipping down until just his head was visible. “Is it far?” you asked as Chris pulled you deeper into the water.

“It’s not far,” he answered. “It’s a nice series of caverns,” he added as he moved behind you, wrapping one of his strong arms around your midsection. “You might get a little wet,” he continued, whispering in your ear, his breath making your hair stand on end and tickling your neck. “Oh,” he added as you started to float along the slow moving stream, his arm tightening around your stomach.

“And you might want to hold your breath.”

The route to their den was so hidden that you would have never spotted it from above and unless you were in the water, you still would have never seen it. There was a massive hole in the ditch which both Felix and Chris dived through. You had taken a deep breath before being submerged.

The tunnel led from the ditch to a large underwater cavern. Here, Chris resurfaced in a small air pocket to let you catch your breath before continuing on, taking one of the many tunnels that branched off from the main cavern. The tunnel wasn’t long but it was dark and impossible to see. You were left to the mercy of the man — creature? — holding you tightly against his chest as he swam.

There was a power he had, swimming along with what you could only assume was a tail. You never actually saw the lower half of his body so you could neither confirm nor deny if he even had legs. Though you did vaguely remember Felix saying Chris didn’t have ankles so perhaps that meant they didn’t have legs.

You didn’t have time to dwell on it as your lungs started to burn with the lack of oxygen. You started to panic, wondering if you might drown down here and you felt extremely embarrassed at the thought of the potential circumstances surrounding your disappearance from the human world.

‘All for some dick, too.’

As you started to struggle in Chris’ hold, he tightened his grip and sped up, kicking harder until the tunnel opened up. It was still dark but not like the tunnels had been. There seemed to be a little bit of light coming from above. Chris pulled you to the surface and you gasped, coughing as air filled your lungs. He kept a firm hold on you while you struggled to breathe.

“Take your time,” he said softly, keeping you afloat. You focused on breathing, inhaling deeply and slowly. Felix was nowhere to be seen as you looked around the air pocket. You cast your gaze up and noticed that there was a small round hole at the top of the cavern, letting a little bit of light into the cavern. 

“Are we underground?” you asked. Chris nodded. “We are,” he answered. “Pretty far actually,” he added. You looked around but saw nothing other than the rock. “You ready to keep going?” he asked. You nodded, taking another deep breath. “We’re almost there.”

The rest of the journey to the den went by without incident and soon Chris was pushing you up onto a small smooth incline made of stone. Felix was already lounging nearby, the lower half of his body submerged in the water. You looked around, noticing a small sandy area further back.

Looking up, you noticed that there were several holes in the ceiling, allowing sunlight to filter in, bouncing off the rocky surface of the walls. The entire cavern was about 12 meters in diameter. From the water’s surface, the rocky walls ran up before starting to curve up towards the flat top. Deep grooves decorated the walls, almost like massive claws had dug into the rock, leaving behind marks.

The sandy pit area was small with a partial rock wall separating it from another area that was hidden from view. You felt weight on top of your legs and turned back to find Chris crawling over you slowly. “Looking for an escape route?” he asked with a sly grin. You shook your head. “No,” you answered softly. “Just taking in the scenery. I didn’t even know there was a cave system down here,” you added as you looked up at the holes in the ceiling.

“Are we under a mountain or something? It seems so large.”

Chris chuckled, his laugh drowned out by a splashing sound. You turned your head to find the place where Felix had been lounging was now empty and the blond was nowhere in sight. “You’d be surprised by a lot of things here in the Outback,” he said softly, hand skimming up the outside of your thigh to your wet shorts.

“Oh right,” you said, looking up as he got closer. “We sort of had a deal.” Chris chuckled as he drew level with you. “Indeed we did, honey,” he said, stopping so his lips were almost grazing yours. “I won’t do anything without your permission,” he added. “So you have to say it, out loud, that you’re okay with this.” You nodded. “I am,” you replied. “I’m okay with this.” Chris’ eyes flashed, the green seeming to illuminate in the low light of the cave. “Good,” he simply said before crashing his lips against yours. 

You felt his hand cup the back of your neck as he guided you down onto the rocky surface, your press pressing into the wet fabric of your shirt. Chris’ lips left yours, making a path down your neck to the top of your shirt. He pulled back just enough to untuck your shirt from your shorts and tug it upwards. You let him pull it off you, his lips reconnecting with yours as his hands moved skillfully over your skin.

It made you wonder if he’d done this before.

Your thoughts were short lived as he undid the front clasp of your bra, quickly and easily sliding the straps down your arms and tossing the garment somewhere you couldn’t see, hoping it had been towards the sand pit and not into the water. That was your favorite bra.

Goosebumps erupted over your skin as Chris’ hands cupped your chest, gently squeezing and kneading the flesh as he parted your lips with his own, tongue slipping into your mouth to find yours in a mix of heavy breathing and saliva.

You whimpered as his fingers gently pinched and rolled your nipples. He pulled back, lowering his head and taking one into his mouth, tongue swirling around the bud. As your eyes fluttered shut, you heard light sloshing of water in the background.

Lifting your head, you caught sight of another pair of bright green eyes watching you from just above the surface of the water, wet blond hair swept back. Felix was swimming back and forth behind Chris, just observing as the blue-haired man’s lips moved lower and lower, reaching your navel.

He pulled back, his deft fingers making quick work of your belt before quickly undoing the tack button and zipper of your shorts. “Lift your hips for me, pretty,” Chris breathed. You did as he asked, allowing him to tug the wet material of your shorts down your thighs and discard them on the rocks beside you.

Once he had you completely naked, he shifted down, shrugging your legs over his shoulder before bringing his face level with your sex. He didn’t even spare a second glance before diving right in, parting your lips and dragging his tongue slowly over your clit. Your fingers tangled in his hair, hips rolling as he ravaged the nub with his tongue.

You heard another splash and lifted your head to find Felix was even closer now, eyes instead on where Chris’ head was between your thighs. He had an intense look of hunger on his face but judging by how he still kept his distance, you figured there was some kind of hierarchical order at play here. Chris must have been the more dominant of two but you weren’t about to let Chris have his way with you without giving Felix some attention.

After all, they had both said they wanted you. It seemed only fair.

Letting go of Chris’ hair you raised one hand up to beckon Felix over to you. His eyes shifted from Chris to you and back, clearly hesitating until he got permission from the larger of the two. “Chris,” you said, choking back a moan. “Don’t you – ah – don’t you think Felix deserves a reward for being so patient?”

Felix turned his gaze back towards you as Chris merely grunted in response. Taking his response as the go ahead, you once again beckoned Felix over to you with a finger. Chris’ grip on your hips tightened as Felix approached slowly. You heard a growl rumble from deep within Chris but light tugged his hair.

“You don’t have to stop,” you gasped as he dug his tongue into your hole. It was inhuman how his tongue seemed to fill your cunt, lapping at your walls and finding that soft spongy spot that had your back arching. Felix had crawled part of the way up the rocky incline, keeping his eyes on Chris, ready to bolt in the event that the large male lashed out.

There was another deep growl but Chris merely tugged you down, further into the water as he continued to fuck you with his tongue. Once he was level with your body, you reached out, taking Felix’s chin in your hand and turned his gaze towards you. “Eyes on me,” you said softly. Felix nodded silently, lips parting slightly.

“C’mere,” you said, pulling him into a kiss. The moment his lips touched yours, Chris pulled his tongue from your cunt, instead dragging it back up to your clit before sucking on the nub. You moaned into Felix’s mouth. The smaller male shifted, hovering over the top half of your body. One of his hands moved to gently grab and squeeze your chest. Another growl emanated from Chris but he allowed the contact to happen. 

Your entire body felt like it was on fire from the touches of both men — creatures? At this point you weren’t even sure what they were. The top half of them, the part out of the water, was human. But from the waist down you couldn’t even tell. You really didn’t even care at this point.

Not when they were both making you feel so good.

You moaned against Felix’s lips as you felt Chris push two fingers into your cunt, your walls squeezing around them immediately. Chris slowly pumped his fingers in and out of you, resting his head against your inner thigh as he watched your makeout session with Felix. “I have an idea,” he said suddenly. Felix pulled back, turning his head to look at the older male.

“Take her spot,” Chris said, pulling his finger from your wetness and dragging you further into the water. Felix moved into the spot you had been. “On your back,” Chris instructed, turning you around in the water to face Felix. “Look at him,” Chris whispered in your ear. You did as he said, eyes widening now that you could get a good look at Felix.

The top portion of his body was just as you already knew — human.

But where his hips began, the human toned skin blended into the dark, smooth seal-like fur. He didn’t have legs like a human. Instead it was almost like he was half man, half seal. The end of his tail was in the water so you couldn’t see the tip but could surmise it was also probably like a seal’s. Your eyes wandered over his body and you noticed the lack of a certain appendage.

Before you could ask, Chris pushed you through the water towards Felix.Your knees met the edge of the rocky incline and Chris made you climb up over Felix until you were face to face with him. “I think he needs some more attention,” Chris said as he backed away a short distance.

You looked over your shoulder at him. Felix grabbed your chin and turned you back towards him. “Eyes on me, angel,” he said in a soft but commanding tone. Without Chris nearby, he let his more dominant side come out. You nodded as his hand moved down to your throat, fingers flexing lightly around your neck before he slid his hand around to the back and pulled you into a messy kiss.

You allowed him to take the lead, one hand resting on the back of your neck as the other moved to pull you over him as he laid back against the rock. You let out a moan as your core came into contact with the smooth skin of where a groin would be on a human. There was a rather large bulge you were pressing against at the base of his torso.

Both his hands moved to your hips, guiding you to grind against him. The friction felt amazing since Chris hadn’t quite gotten you over the edge. “That’s it,” Felix whispered, breath hot against your lips. “Keep going.” Your body started to shudder as you chased your high. As you got closer, you felt something warm against your cunt.

“What’s that?” you asked breathlessly. “What do you think it is, baby?” Chris’ voice asked from right behind you. While your attention was focused on Felix, he’d managed to sneak up behind you. Your mind was sent reeling with the possibility of what you were feeling between your legs. It was warm, slick, and pulsating. “Use your brain, sweetheart,” Chris added, brushing his lips along your shoulder.

Using what crude knowledge you had of their anatomy, you figured it was potentially some sort of reproductive organ. “Is it…” your words failed you, heat rising to your cheeks. Would calling it a cock be appropriate? Was it even a penis? You couldn’t see it, only feel. “Is it what?” Felix asked, amusement in his voice as he tried to coax an answer out of you.

“Is it… a… dick?”

Chris chuckled, his hot breath fanning over your shoulder. “What else would it be?” Your cheeks burned even more as you realized you were caught between their bodies. “Well, I don’t know,” you whined. “I can’t see it.” 

You let out a squeak as Chris hauled you off Felix, pulling you back towards the water just far enough that you got an eyeful of Felix’s body. Your eyes widened as you took in what you were seeing. The bulge you had been rutting against had split open at a vertical slit in the middle revealing a long deep bluish-purple appendage. 

The base of it was slightly thicker, tapering up to a slightly flared and angled head. The color wasn’t uniform throughout, being more blue at the base and more purplish at the tip. It was long, maybe twenty centimeters from base to tip. If you had to guess the circumference, you’d say it was fifteen to seventeen centimeters.

“Are you just going to stare at it?” Chris whispered into your ear. “Or are you going to do something?”

His breath made a shiver run up your spine as you stared at Felix’s cock, walls clenching around nothing as it twitched. Without speaking, you pushed away from Chris, climbing back over Felix and crashing your lips against his, pushing him back against the rock.

Felix’s hands moved to your waist, groaning as you grinded against him. He guided your hips, grinding your clit against the underside of his cock. You whimpered into the kiss, rolling your hips faster. You pulled away, pressing kisses to the underside of his jaw as you heard water sloshing behind you.

“Settle down,” Chris said calmly. You lifted your head, looking back at him. “Make me,” you retorted. The moment the words left your lips, you regretted it as his hand darted between your thighs, two fingers pushing into your sex and making you moan. He held them there, feeling your walls contract tightly. “Oh, I think she’s ready,” Chris said, addressing Felix. “You’ll get your turn,” he explained as he moved behind you, grabbing your hips and holding you in place.

“What’re you —” you murmured, lifting your head only for Felix to grab your face and make you face him. “Eyes on me, angel,” he whispered, green eyes staring into your own. You stared back, admiring the freckles that dotted his cheeks and nose.

You let out a groan, eyes fluttering shut as you felt the head of Chris’ cock press against you. Having seen Felix’s, you hadn’t expected Chris’ to be much different but you momentarily forgot that Chris was the larger of the two. Chris pushed into you, the head breaching your entrance and making you gasp out in pain. Felix’s arms wrapped around you, holding your body against his.

“Relax,” he whispered into your ear as you buried your face in his neck, body shuddering and tensing violently. Chris made no attempt to move or remove himself, instead keeping perfectly still as your walls slowly adjusted. “It’s okay,” Felix cooed. “Just relax, baby.”

You took several deep breaths as you let your body slowly calm down, the tension in your muscles lessening as the stinging pain of Chris’ cock stretching your walls ebbed away. When he felt your body was lax enough, Chris pushed further into you, his thick cock sliding inside slowly.

Felix guided you through it, whispering words of encouragement into your ear and peppering light kisses on your cheek and shoulder. The pressure of his hard cock throbbing against your clit as Chris filled your cunt made you whimper. You felt the head of Chris’ cock kiss your cervix and he finally stopped.

“Hold onto her,” Chris said softly to the blond as he moved his hands to support his weight, palms flat against the rock. Felix’s arms around you tightened and before you could ask what was going on, you felt Chris start to pull from you, making you whine but as quickly as he retracted, his hips snapped forward, thrusting into you with a strength you didn’t expect.

You cried out both in shock and in pleasure, the wind being knocked from your lungs with the first powerful thrust. He set a steady, but bruising pace, pounding into you from behind. Each thrust made your hips rock forward, grinding your clit against Felix, making both of you moan.

You buried your face in Felix’s neck, muffling your cries of pleasure. The lewd squelching sound of Chris’ cock ramming into you repeatedly echoed around the cavern along with his grunts and Felix’s moans. You felt impossibly full of his cock, having never taken anything this big before and somehow he managed to fit all of it inside you.

“God,” you heard Chris groan. “You’re so beautiful when you’re fucked out under him,” Felix added, moving a hand to cup your cheek, chuckling breathlessly when you leaned into his warm palm.

Your walls spasmed around Chris’ cock as the orgasm that had been building since he had you on your back finally crashed over you, waves of bliss spreading throughout your body as if shuddered, your clit still grinding against the underside of Felix’s slick cock. His hips started to buck, grinding hard against you as he chased his own high.

“F-uck,” he groaned. “Gonna cum!”

His warning came just in time as you felt a warmth gush between your bodies as his release spilled out of him, painting his stomach and spilling onto the rock under him. His hold on you pulled you closer, this cum sticking to your body as well as Chris thrust harder into you, each movement erratic but still powerful as he neared the edge.

“Hold her still,” he growled, which Felix complied instantly, holding you in place as another orgasm washed over you, your cunt convulsing around Chris’ cock, taking him over the edge with you with a loud moan. Chris’ teeth sank into your shoulder as he came, muffling his growl as he released into you, his hot, thick cum coating your walls and spilling out of you.

He continued to move, thrusting and fucking his cum back into you until he stopped, burying his cock deep inside, the tip resting against your cervix as another surge of cum spilled into you. You could feel a small pressure build in the pit of your stomach, moaning as his cum spilled into your womb. It was unlike anything you’d ever felt before.

“She’s passing out,” you heard Felix murmur as he tilted your head, your eyes fluttering shut and their voices starting to fall to the background of your consciousness. “Clean her off,” you barely heard Chris say before everything went black.

When you came to, you were lying on your back, cool air hitting your skin. Your eyes opened abruptly and you sat up, looking around to find you were on the outskirts of your camp. The sun had long since set and the sky was littered with stars. You got up, looking down to find you were dressed in semi dry clothes. Your bag sat next to where you’d been lying.

You brushed yourself off and grabbed your bag, finding your canteen full of water. You stumbled back into camp, thighs sore as you looked around. You found your tent and walked over, unzipping it and peering inside. You slunk into it, turning to zip it shut and started to mull over what just happened.

Had you passed out from exhaustion and imagined the whole thing?

The ache between your thighs said otherwise. You opened your bag to check your things, grabbing your flashlight to inspect the contents. Nothing seemed to be missing as you pulled everything out until you saw a small note inside one of the small pockets. Placing the flashlight between your shoulder and jaw, you used both hands to hold the bag and pull out the paper, unfolding it before grabbing the flashlight and reading the note.

©️ kwanisms 2024 | all works on this blog are protected under copyright. Do not repost, continue, or translate my works. All graphics made by me.

[choochooboss]

I might need to split the topics more because I'd like the posts to be concise/ADHD friendly! And if I have the time and energy it would be fun to add some visuals to go along with the text!

[m3tal-f0x]

I decided to write more on my band au because I've gotten to work more on it!

Amy, Gadget and Barry's band is named Piko Piko Shoot and they focus on Pop Rock/Punk.

Amy is the lead singer, she grew up in a rich family and a prodigy in academics, music and skating. She ran away from her home to pursue a musical career with her two (loser) friends. She also dwells in grafitti art, all of which are designed by Barry.

Gadget is the one who actually started the band, he provides the guitars and back-up vocals. He works in a local cafe to pay up for rent and band expenses. He's a pro skater and has a huge crush on Infinite.

Barry is a simple artist and bassist who attended the same school as Gadget. He accepted to form the band in hopes of becoming someone and proving everyone who doubted him, wrong.

__

Chaos Blast is a band started by Shadow and his childhood best friend and sister, Rouge. They focus on deep and meaningful lyrics, mostly inspired by Shadow's older sister, Maria.

Shadow is the lead singer and to fans, a mystery. He prefers to keep any information on himself private, completely avoiding interviews and avoiding any social media. Truth is, Shadow started the band to, not only raise money for Maria's hospital bills, but also offer the young girl some entertainment.

Rouge is the bassist and stylist of the band, sometimes offering some back-up vocals for their songs. She's very gossipy and the main source of information for fans.

Silver is a shy and friendly bassist, he sometimes helps with songwriting and manages the band's social media account. He was born in Soleanna and has a love for gardening. He was close friends with Blaze before losing contact with her.

Knuckles is the band's drummer, known for channeling his short temper and rage into his work. He's quiet and very passionate about cooking in his free time.

__

Phantom Ruby was formed by childhood best friends Sonic and Infinite out of pure boredom, their lyrics being edgy for the sake of it.

Infinite is the singer and main songwriter. He's very open about himself, even coming across as egocentric. In his own head, Chaos Blast is trying to copy Phantom Ruby and steal their spotlight.

Sonic had a simple life growing up in Sunset City with his younger brother, Miles. He accepted forming a band with Infinite to pursue his dream career as a guittarist. He's very loud and energetic and has an easy time hyping up the croud. He's openly gay and has a crush on Shadow.

Blaze grew up in Soleanna and moved to the big city to purse a drumming career. She provides help with the lyrics and helps keep the other two in line whenever their manager, Espio has a hard time.

__

Other characters include

Miles, Sonic's adoptive younger brother, a prodigy and mechanical genius, dropped his studies to become the band's technician.

Espio, a mysteryous and serious person, Phantom Ruby's manager.

Honey, Phantom Ruby's stylist and social media manager. A big gossip always in touch with their community.

Wave, Chaos Blast's official stylist and manager. She grew up a graffitti artist and extreme gear pro. She's dating Rouge behind the scenes.

Maria, Shadow's older and sick sister. Her dream was to be able to watch a band live but due to her condition she was unable to.

Vector, Owner and DJ of the radio station JSR 095. He's very known in Rokkaku Street (Where Gadget and Barry grew up.)

Jet, Wave's younger brother and extreme gear pro. His gang controls Rokkaku Street with their grafitti art.

Ivo, the owner of IvoTech Empire, a company who creates multi-use and purpose robots and implementing them in society. He's also the creator of the extreme gear and his own brand of robo-singers.

[darkdarknights]

Jacegan Week - Modern AU

Cregan Stark is the owner of The Winter Wolf, cafe by day and bar by night, located close to the air base where Jacaerys "Skyfyre" Velaryon is stationed. Jace is in the airforce and comes from wealth and a political dynasty. An ace pilot, Jace is an overachiever with a bit of a temper, but plenty of charm. After recently losing his brother Luke (also a pilot) on deployment, he leaves KL and pulling some strings through his family, lands a transfer all the way to Winterfell. Where of course, he meets the Wolf of the North. The regulars aren't much impressed with Jace once they find out what his last name is, but Cregan at least is friendlier even if only because he owns the place and probably has good business sense.

Jace is smitten the very first night he walks in and sees Cregan break up a fight, and a man's jaw for harrassing a young cadet. He tries to find out more about the northman, but comes up empty. People are either ignorant or tight lipped about Stark. Cregan doesn't talk about himself much either, so all Jace knows is that he is a veteran. And that he loves to ride his bike, which Jace has seen him do around town and might have become somewhat obsessed with the man, truth be told. But he will deny it until his dying breath.

Luckily, he is hopeless at suppressing the heart eyes around Cregan and one day Cregan's sister, Sara, takes pity on him and invites him for dinner with the Starks (all two of them as Cregan's lost his wife and son), under the guise of getting to know the new regular. It is here Jace learns that Cregan is ex-special forces, ran a number of covert ops all over the globe, but had to step away after injury that made him unfit for active combat. Jace is humbled by the loss Cregan has gone through, and awed by the strength and dignity with which he carries himself. Cregan laughs when Jace says he hides it well, saying "It's the Northern way. I can repress feelings you haven't even heard of, Jace."

They have a pleasant dinner, talking and drinking well into the night.

Cregan surprises him by saying he's heard some things about him (as he still has a lot of friends and connections still active) which shocks Jace because he wasn't aware Cregan had taken much interest in him beyond their brief interactions at the Winter Wolf. "Now, tell me something, Jace. In addition to being a bigshot pilot, I've heard you were also a big flirt. Now imagine my surprise when I see you in my backyard quiet as a mouse this whole time. You holdin out on us? Or you just don't like the northern stock?"

Jace blushes all over like he's twelve again and Cregan laughs. If only the other man knew how many times Jace has orgasmed to fantasies about him, he would have no doubt about how much Jace likes the, ahem, northern stock.

Jace mumbles out something about being new in town, that he thought he'd keep a bit of a lower profile in Winterfell and hopes that Cregan both probes and doesn't probe further. He doesn't know why he's so hesitant to just put himself out there, Sara practically gift-wrapped it for him, but he likes his routine at the Wolf and is reluctant to lose it if he spooks Cregan even if the man seems nigh-unspookable. He chickens out and switches gears, pulling the conversation into another direction, talking about Cregan's interests: the bike and, having seen a guitar somewhere, music.

It turns out they have a lot in common, and Cregan even DJs on special occasions. Jace excitedly demands that he be allowed to see Cregan in action, to which Cregan replies "I can show you action."

Next week at the Winter Wolf, Cregan quietly hands him something before he leaves. It's an actual cassette, with a handmade label that reads "for Jace 'Skyfyre' Velaryon". He leaves Jace beaming ear to ear, hope alive in his chest. <3

[eddie-brii]

So, I blame @dipperscavern for this. I was minding my own business and found the post about a firefighter au. I, as a paramedic and firefighter in RL, had to fulfill the now moral obligation to write this. AKA I wanted to picture Cregan Stark in a FD uniform and Bunker gear.

This is only a TEASER for a fic I'm calling Sirens and Hearts of Fire for right now. It will be a first responder Cregan Stark x first responder reader. I have a lot more to add until I'm done and, honestly? I'm already coming up with so many head cannons for this au!

Side note: if anyone has questions about what something means, please go ahead and message me. I will happily answer it. 😊

Please enjoy.

“Medic Short Shit! Please report for duty!” was shouted by a deep, northern accent across the fire bay.

“Shut the fuck up, Lieutenant Stark! Not everyone can be as tall as a fucking tree!” She shouted back from the back of the squad. She heard laughter ring out from the guys in the day room and had to roll her eyes.

She knew she was late to the morning meeting but the check off was almost done. When joining the Winterfell Fire Department two years ago after job opportunities dried up in the Stormlands she hadn’t quite pictured being this comfortable. Most of the major FDs were fully staffed and openings were fought over by a few dozen applicants. It was better just to relocate since she didn’t have any roots set down in Storm’s End. It was interesting to say the least. Most of the people she worked with were legacy fire with founding members in their family lines. The Starks, Velaryons and Targaryens being the most noted with five generations of firefighting.

She quickly checked the last cabinet and marked off in the book that it had everything it needed before putting away the binder by the airway seat. She huffed as she got out of the squad and hurried over to the meeting. Cregan and Jace were waiting at the door to the crew area of the station with a half grin on the latter’s face.

“Finally decided to join us, L.T. Spitfire?” Jace said, using the nickname the department had given her. He was clearly enjoying irritating her this early in the morning before coffee.

“Maybe if someone whose name starts with a J and ends with an Ace didn’t steal Luke away when he was supposed to be checking off the back up squad, truck check wouldn’t have taken so long. Besides, we both know Baela had a rough night on the Medic and there was a lot to restock.” She huffed as she moved passed them. She heard Cregan chuckle as she did, ignoring the shiver that wanted to go through her body at the sound. Cregan Stark was what every woman dreamed of when they thought about Firefighters. Strong, handsome, looked wonderful in and out of bunker gear. And he was entirely off limits in her opinion. Especially after she was told his longtime girlfriend, Arra, died in a car accident.

From what Baela had said they were going through EMT-basic class together when it happened. Cregan responded to the scene with the others on the engine and had been nearly inconsolable with she had been a DOA. He took close to a year off from the job as he tried to piece himself back together. His father and other department members finally managed to get him to come back not long before she joined. Needless to say, the crush which she developed on him went unspoken after she heard that, despite Baela swearing up and down it might be time to say something.

She waved to Chief Stark as she entered the kitchen and went to the coffee maker, pouring some into her favorite mug while ignoring the chuckles of the other crew members around the room.

“Squads up to par, Lieutenant?” Rickon asked, unbothered by her lateness to the group. She gave a thumbs up as she took her first drink of caffeine, the dark liquid already helping her perk up. She sat down next to Luke and Ben, the former giving her an apologetic look with a sheepish smile for leaving her by herself this morning. Ben was practically glued to his own mug as he looked over cardiac rhythms on his phone, trying to memorize them. Both had their books on the table for paramedic class. It was clearly leaving the two younger men haggard, and it was only going to get worse.

Chief clearing his throat tore her attention away from the guys and the chatter through the room quieted as everyone listened to assignments for the shift.

“Alright, now that everyone’s here let’s get started. Seat assignments are up on the board along with upcoming trainings. We need to wash the trucks today and keep an eye on them throughout the next few months before it gets too cold. Make sure they look good while we can.” Chief said. As he went through the morning debrief, he paused for a moment as he looked over some paperwork next to him.

“Pyke FD has also reached about having us join them for an open water rescue training in the coming months. Speak to Manderly if you’ve got questions or want to volunteer. We’d like to see a good level of participation as this is a good opportunity for the department.” At the chief’s words she blanched, she could almost hear the underline expectations for them to sign up for it. She remembered the last time they had to deal with Pyke and their members, one in particular coming to mind.

“I swear, if fucking Greyjoy starts his shit again…” she muttered under her breath, earning a few chuckles from around the room. She heard a displeased grunt from somewhere behind her but choose to ignore it. Chief shot her a look before shaking his head, continuing over some vehicle maintenance before finally dismissing the meeting and retreating to his office.

She sighed as drank her coffee, scrolling on her phone and barely paying attention to the different conversations that now filled the space as the crew started making breakfast. Mormont manning the stove while the others set out plates and silverware. She was finally brought out of it when Ben tapped her shoulder, a confused look on his face as he held out his phone.

“This is a second-degree heart block Mobitz type II, right?” He asked, the poor guy looked ready to pull his hair out at this point. She took pity on him, taking the phone and watching the rhythm before she answered.

“Yeah, you’re right. I think you’re finally getting the hang of cardiology, Ben.” The shy firefighter almost looked ready to let out a whoop, clearly happy he was getting over his biggest hurdle in class. Luke joined in the conversation, asking questions along with Ben about the hiccups he was having and asking about IV medications. After a while they were interrupted by Cregan and Jace sitting across from the trio, both setting down plates of food for everyone. Before long the rest of the crew had sat down to eat. Most of the conversation revolved around sports, new tools, and plans for the summer while they had good weather. She didn’t pay much attention to it while she ate, still annoyed at the idea of dealing with Dalton. She didn’t notice anyone trying to speak to her until a hand was smacked down on the table across from her.

“Earth to Spitfire, come in Spitfire,” Jace said dramatically while he leaned back.

“What, your highness?” she huffed when she came back to the conversation around her. She couldn’t help but notice that Cregan seemed on edge with whatever Jace had been talking about, his brows knitted together as he looked back and forth between them.

“So how are going to deal with Greyjoy this time around? I doubt he’s going to just give up after you told him off last time,” Jace pointed out before taking a bite of bacon. It was at this point Cregan set down his coffee mug, giving the brunet an exasperated look before he spoke.

“Chief said it’s voluntary, she doesn’t have to go if she doesn’t want to.” He said firmly, clearly as annoyed about the idea of seeing the Ironborn again as much as she was.

“Oh come on, Lt, you know when your dad says something about participation it always means he wants as many people to go as possible. I’ve already checked and it’s not our unit day so he will want to see us there,” Luke added in before he finished off his breakfast. He got up to take his and Ben’s dishes to the sink.

“I second that. You know he’s going to want to have as many of us there as possible. Plus, I don’t like the idea of not being there if something happens one of you guys. You know the Iron Isles are short on medics right now. Not ideal,” she reasoned. As much as she disliked the idea, she wasn’t going to possibly leave her guys without proper care.

“Be that as it may, I don’t think he’s going to blame you if you opt out of this one. He wasn’t exactly happy with how Dalton acted either after I told him. As an officer at Pyke, that was completely unprofessional of him.” Cregan’s argument made her stop mid-bite. She put her fork down as she tried to keep her sudden irritation down.

“What the hell do you mean you told chief?” she said as she narrowed for eyes at him.

“Easy Spitfire, it’s not what you think. It needed to be reported since it was at a training. Chief Blacktyde was grateful that we informed him of the misconduct of one of his officers and said he would handle it.” Cregan tried to calm her down before she went off on him, his hands raised slightly and an amused smirk tugging at his lips. She tried not to huff as she picked up her fork again and shoved some eggs in her mouth. She eyed him as she chewed before she swallowed her food down.

“While you have a point, it still would have been nice to know you told your dad about it,” she said begrudgingly, still annoyed but seeing his point. “Although, that means there should be no issue with me going to the training then, should there?” It was now Cregan’s turn to look irritated as she countered him. She hid her grin by taking another drink of her coffee when all he did was grunt in response. She noticed Jace giving Cregan a look that the lieutenant deliberately ignored while he continued eating. She didn’t think much of it at the time.

She finished off her coffee and breakfast before getting up to hand off the dishes to Locke at the sink. She nodded to the squad crew members that had finished their food as well, getting them up to get the trucks washed for the day.

As she went out into the bay and started heading towards the premiere squad, Luke and Darry went to fill the buckets. Ben grabbed the brushes as she pulled the truck out. Luke started to hose down the squad, wetting down the bright blue apparatus before two of them started scrubbing. Ben went to pull out the back up to be cleaned as well, the older truck a slightly darker shade of blue with an older department logo on the side. She still wasn’t quite used to the different colors they used in the North compared to the Stormlands, the southern region using different shades of yellow for their emergency vehicles. At least it wasn’t the green that the Reach had. She still couldn’t believe the lime green the Oldtown FD used for theirs.

The engine and rescue crews came out not too long after them, pulling out and getting started on their respective trucks. Soon the smell of car soap filled the air as the occasional shout was heard when someone accidently got sprayed with hose. She was silently cursing as she tried to scrub the bugs off of the top front of the squad. The splatter almost seeming baked on as her arms started to ache from the angle she had to hold the brush. She heard the sound of boots coming up behind but didn’t pay it any mind until she was suddenly lifted up onto someone’s shoulder.

“Cregan! Put me down!” She said as she tried to avoid hitting him with the handle of the brush for flailing. She found herself gripping his other shoulder with one hand as her torso was half leaned over his head to keep her balance. Once she was steady, she looked down at him like he was crazy.

“You looked like you needed some added height, Medic Short Shit,” he said with a chuckle, clearly unaffected by her weight.

“Don’t you have your own truck to wash?!” she said, trying to sound irate but didn’t quite succeed as a mix of panic and a touch of something else pitted in her belly. She sent a pleading look to the other guys but several of them held up their hands in surrender as they tried to keep from laughing at her predicament. She mouthed “traitor” to them as she kept a death grip on Cregan underneath her.

“It’s already done if you haven’t noticed. Now get to scrubbing, Luke needs to hose off the soap soon,” he said before readjusting his hold on her legs, securing her enough to make her loosen her hold on him. She grumbled as she carefully straitened up, beginning to clean the bug splatter off again as she slowly relaxed on his shoulder.

After she gotten off what she could, Cregan stepped back from the truck as Luke got to work. She passed off the brush to Darry before Stark slowly lowered her down. She breathed a sigh of relief as her feet finally touched the ground again and sagged back into Cregan as his arm came around her midsection to keep her steady.

“That wasn’t so bad now, was it?” He was grinning down at her, still find her reacting amusing.

“You know I don’t do roofs for a reason…,” she muttered. She wasn’t nearly as irritated as his hand on her hip distracted her but she wasn’t going to let him see that. Before he could say anything, Bolton took that opportunity to open his mouth.

“Hey lieutenant, you think you can stop flirting long enough to help get the bay swept out while it’s quiet?” At his words a collective groan came from everyone.

“Damnit Bolton! You know what that word does!” Locke said as he started to rush relaying hose.

“What? It’s not like it actu-,“ Bolton was cut off as the tones dropped for their station.

“Station 1, Station 1, need a squad to respond to 248 Arrow St for a male with chest pain. Time out 0823,” came across the station loudspeaker. Luke, Darry, and her already getting into the squad before the dispatcher finished.

[onestepbackwards]

So, I’m a huge fan of the idea of the streamer AU, so I can imagine the amount of shenanigans the reader gets into while trying to find a way home. Like the reader squealing over a colony of cute spheals (they are fricking adorable in the game, have you seen the one cutscene with Adaman?) and the reader revealing to have caught a whole army of them and showing them in the background while many people watching their stream are like facepalming.

Or the reader returning to Jublife with an army of cute Pokémon following them, like Spheals, Eevees, fluffy Growlithes, etc. (kinda reminds me of this whole Pikachu army parade I saw in YouTube before)

Or the reader streaming about cute Pokémon chasing them and happily playing around….and then cue the reader on the run from angry terrifying Pokémon.

The streamer Au is one dear to my heart, even if I haven’t gotten to write a lot about it. Its such a fun idea though.

The idea of you can’t communicate really with the future, but you can still just stream??

Imagine explaining that.

“Yeah, God said I have to find every pokemon here or I can’t go home :(“

Depending on the person, you could have so many shenanigans. Especially since you and Ingo are the only ones who know how to communicate with pokemon, and properly train and raise then.

Everyone in the future watching in humor or horror how you are treated for acting normal around pokemon. How you act is like an average trainer, when others in the villages would be appalled you happily collect pokemon.

Like, just imagine walking into a village with an army of eeveelutions. Something so normal, has people turning heads.

Your chat is going wild at the sight.

Especially when they see Sylveon. A pokemon that should not exist at that point in time in Hisui. How the fuck did you get one.

Either finding an Eevee in a time distortion with a fairy move, it just finding a Sylveon outright. You have historians screaming and yelling in your chat.

And the Alpha Pokemon have historians and scientists tuning into your streams, all foaming at the mouth at a real hands on view of Alpha pokemon.

“This is amazing footage! Truly nothing like it!”

“Sir, the pokemon just tossed the streamer into a wall.”

“They seem fine!”

You regularly give people heart attacks. Especially your friends and family who are stuck watching you, unable to help.

Barry sees how Kamado treats you, and books it to Rowans house.

Rowan meanwhile feels a sense of impending doom.

Cynthia is a curious one, incredibly curious about Volo. They resemblances is uncanny. One of her coworkers even joked she may as well be his reincarnation.

Imagine her horror when she sees Volo’s betrayal. She is so glad Cyrus is not here to mock her.

Meanwhile you have almost all of Gear station tuning into your stream after you drop the bomb that you met a guy named Ingo, who you think might be the missing Subway Boss. Emmet is strangling his computer as we speak trying to get you to show him.

“Yeah, he was really nice. Its a shame he lost his memory, but he talks about trains a lot.”

Gear Station is screaming.

[au-wannabe-the-very-best]

In the Gear Station Baby AU, Akari's actually the one who goes missing first, when she gets thrown into Hisui. And Ingo and Emmet are just. a fucking MESS. Their little girl goes missing out of nowhere and nobody knows what happened. Was she kidnapped? Did she run off again? They don't know!

Ingo ends up in Hisui specifically because he's looking for Akari. When Ingo goes missing during the search, Emmet has a fucking breakdown. The police are under the assumption that someone out there has a vendetta against the Subway Boss family, and Emmet is forced on house arrest with a lot of police guards.

[foggyfanfic]

Echoes on a Toy Guitar

Oneshot Summary: Coco AU. Imelda's parents die in a house fire and it just so happens the only photo she has of them is from her and Hector's wedding. On the Day of the Dead she puts the photo of her, her parents, and Hector on the ofrenda without a second thought. That night, the toy guitar Hector sent for Coco starts playing Coco's lullaby.

TW: Death, implied sex

It started on the Day of the Dead. Imelda’s parents had died in a house fire barely a month before the holiday and the only picture she had of them was from her and Hector’s wedding. She put it up without much thought to her husband standing beside her in the middle of the photo, the only one smiling in what was supposed to be a serious portrait of their wedding party.

“How can I do anything but smile?” he had asked, when her father had complained, “I just married the most wonderful woman in the world.”

Imelda had blushed, and tried to fight down her own love sick smile, but when he’d turned those soft brown eyes her way, she had melted.

So she put the wedding photo on the ofrenda and placed down a few offerings, including the gifts Hector had sent for them three and a half weeks ago. Well, gifts was perhaps not the right word, her parents had asked her to ask him to send them some parts to fix their record player, and he had complied, albeit a few days too late. She didn’t know what she expected them to do with those parts in the after life, but hey, they’d asked for them.

As Imelda placed the wedding photo on the ofrenda, her only worry was that Hector might not have received her letter alerting him that her parents were dead. In the letter sent with the gramophone parts, Hector had mentioned that he was trying to talk Ernesto out of yet another detour that would only serve to lengthen their tour. Based on the return address on the money she’d received two days later, Ernesto had once again gotten his way.

A toy guitar had arrived for Coco the day after, with a note promising he would teach her how to play it as soon as he got home.

She was glad the tour was going well, really she was. They had bills to pay after all, and it was nice to have some savings. However, Imelda missed her husband, and she couldn’t help wishing that he would just come home already. She had started looking at alternate ways for her to make money, perhaps working was a bit below her station, but if it meant their little family could be together more…? Imelda would do it with a smile on her face.

But then on Day of the Dead, less than a month since she’d last heard from her husband, the little toy guitar in Coco’s room started to play music. 

It was when the child friendly festivities were over and Imelda was putting Coco down for bed. Her teeth were brushed, her face was washed, and all that was left for her to do was sing the lullaby her father had written at 8:15 sharp. Coco started singing, and the small guitar sitting on the rocking chair in the corner accompanied her.

Coco laughed and clapped, “Papa sent me a magic guitar!”

Imelda stared at the guitar, slowly nodding, “You know your papa, he wants you to have the very best.”

She tucked her daughter in, kissed her good night, then lifted the toy guitar so she could inspect it for gears. Imelda didn’t find anything, but she decided that they must be there regardless, hidden somehow. It was simply a fancy looking music box, she told herself, that went off by itself after three weeks of lying silent. It meant nothing.

No, that wasn’t true, it meant Hector had tracked down a toy maker and custom ordered a music box for their little girl. That ridiculous man. Didn’t he know Coco would have been happy with a perfectly normal toy guitar? Imelda shook her head, smiling fondly.

When she was done toasting their parent’s memory with her brothers, Imelda changed into her nightgown and laid down to sleep. She thought again of Coco’s “magic” guitar and her heart ached for her husband. It ached so hard that as she fell asleep she could almost swear that she felt a hand stroking her hair, just as Hector sometimes did.

The guitar played Coco’s lullaby the next day, and the day after. Coco was delighted, Imelda was mildly curious about how it worked.

No more letters arrived from Hector. The last gift she got from him was a necklace with Coco’s and his name inscribed on the heart shaped pendant. She wore it every day.

The money he had sent lasted them six months, long enough that Imelda was able to learn how to make shoes and had started doing so before Hector’s money ran out. Her brothers moved in to help her run her new business, they didn’t ask where Hector was, but they eventually did ask about the self playing guitar.

“It’s a music box,” Imelda brushed off the question, “Hector wrote that song for Coco, he must have gotten it custom ordered. Like my necklace.”

Oscar and Felipe had shared a look, a worried frown taking over both their faces. Imelda pretended not to see it, she just focused on the shoe she was making.

The guitar accompanied Coco every night, even when she sang the song a little bit late or early. Most nights, Imelda fell asleep to an invisible hand stroking her hair. She tried not to think about it, she focused on shoes and raising Coco, and tried not to wonder where her husband was.

A year after Hector’s last gift arrived, the radio in her workshop began playing Hector’s songs. Sung by Ernesto.

The first time one of his songs came on the radio, everything in the workshop froze. It was the song Hector had written for their first anniversary, a song that he had never allowed Ernesto to sing.

“It’s not for them Ernesto, it’s not for money,” Hector had said, shaking his head, “It’s for the love of my life, and the many years we will spend together.”

“But Hector-.”

“No,” Hector had stood firm, he always stood firm when it came to songs he’d written for his family, “I’m sorry mi amigo, but this one belongs to Imelda.”

Imelda stared at the radio, Oscar and Felipe did the same. She put down the shoe, and stood to turn it off or perhaps change the channel, but before she had taken a single step towards it, the radio turned off by itself. They could all clearly see the off switch toggle off without anyone touching it. In the ensuing silence you could hear a pin drop, so there was nothing to cover the sound of feet stomping out of the shop and up the stairs. 

A door slammed somewhere else in the house.

“Imelda,” Felipe said.

“I know,” she whispered.

She sat back down, eyes still glued to the radio, and her heart pounding in her ears.

“Oscar, Felipe, I… I need you to run an errand for me,” Imelda eventually said, “the last of the money came from Mexico City, I need you two to go, take Hector’s picture and-. I-if the police there don’t recognize him, he was in Santiago de Queretaro before that.”

“Si Imelda,” they said as one.

“We’ll go pack,” Oscar said.

“We’ll leave on the first train tomorrow morning,” Felipe added.

“Bien,” she heard herself say, slowly nodding.

They left her alone and she sat there holding a half finished shoe for who knows how long before she eventually got back to work. Nothing was confirmed. It could have been… a power surge, perhaps the radio was broken. And the stomping was the pipes banging around. And the hand that stroked her hair every night was her imagination. And the guitar was a music box.

Hector… Hector was probably fine.

Except he wasn’t. A week later she met Oscar and Felipe at the station, they looked at her with mournful eyes and handed her a copy of her husband’s death certificate. The cause of death was listed as curare poisoning. Three days after the toy guitar arrived, Hector was found dead in the street with his suitcase and wallet, but no guitar.

“He… he had a train ticket home,” Oscar said, voice choked up.

Felipe nodded, “He would have been back in time for Coco’s birthday.”

Imelda stared at the sheet of paper and wondered how in the world she was going to explain to Coco that her father was dead.  

“They’re going to send us his personal effects.”

“And somebody to… arrange for the b-body to be moved here. If that’s what we want-?”

“It is.”

“Imelda…”

“We are so sorry.”

She nodded, still staring at the death certificate, “Curare poisoning.”

Her brothers didn’t respond, when she looked up at them they were avoiding her gaze.

“How does somebody… is it a kind of food poisoning?”

“It… no. It’s not something that…”

“They said it doesn’t happen… naturally.”

Something cold settled in her gut. Her husband was poisoned, and left for dead with his wallet but not his guitar. 

And now Ernesto was singing her song on the radio.

“Let’s go home,” Imelda said, she could feel steel crawling up her spine, coating her bones. Her mind whirled with thoughts of violence and grief. She went straight to her workshop and made shoes until it was time to pick Coco up from school. Dinner was thrown together, then eaten, and before she knew it, it was 8:15.

“Coco, mi corazon,” Imelda put a hand on her daughter’s wrist to forestall the inevitable song, “we… need to talk. I need to tell you something, about your father.”

Coco’s face fell. She had stopped asking when her Papá would be home four months after the guitar started playing her song. Imelda hadn’t dared to ask where Coco thought Hector was, Imelda hadn’t dared asking herself where Hector was.

“Where’s Papá?” Coco asked, for what would be the last time.

Imelda swallowed past the lump in her throat, but there was nothing she could do to stop the tears from forming in her eyes, “He… He is not coming home, mija. Your father loved us very much, and he wanted to be here with us, but he… he is with abuelo and abuela now.”

“Are we going to have a funeral for him too?” Coco asked, beginning to sniffle.

“Sí,” Imelda nodded, she would have said more but Coco began sobbing, all Imelda could do was hold her.

Hesitantly at first, then somewhat desperately, the little toy guitar began playing Coco’s lullaby. It didn’t stop there this time, it played every soft song Hector had ever known, one right after another. Coco cried herself to sleep in Imelda’s arms after an hour, but the guitar kept playing until the break of dawn, when it played “Remember Me” one last time, then finally went silent.

Imelda listened to each song, held her daughter, and slowly accepted that her husband was haunting their home.

“Hector, if I can find some way to kill you for dying, I will do so,” she whispered to the room, then when there was no response she continued, “do you have any idea how much we’ve missed you? How much we’re going to-. Hector, you are the love of my life, you can’t just, just-, if you think I’m letting you out of this marriage that easy you have another thing coming!”

She almost, almost heard a chuckle. But it could have been the wind, or an echo from outside.

“Hector, what am I supposed to do?” Imelda squeezed her daughter a little closer, “How am I supposed to raise Coco without a father?”

The rocking chair rocked without anyone touching it.

“Sí, sí, you’re here, but you’re not here Hector,” she frowned at the toy guitar firmly, “you can’t help her with her homework, or run errands while I make dinner. You won’t be there to dance with her at her quinceanera, or walk her down the aisle. You… you’ll be a face on the ofrenda, a hole in the family photo, and a lullaby on a toy guitar. That is not the same thing as being here.”

There was once again, no response, but she didn’t need to see or hear her husband to know he was wearing the same kicked-puppy look he’d worn the first time Coco had gotten sick.

“You never should have left, we could have made do without the money,” Imelda sighed, then said, “I love you Hector, I always will.”

A hand began stroking her hair and she closed her eyes, trying to shut out the tears that fell anyways.

Imelda wasn’t surprised when she got Hector’s things back and his songbook was nowhere to be found. She wasn’t surprised when rumors spread about his fate, and soon the whole town knew he’d been murdered. She wasn’t even surprised when the sheriff showed up at her door and asked if she wanted him to investigate Ernesto.

“I am gathering evidence, anything you can add will be most appreciated,” she’d said, chin raised high.

“What you planning to do?”

“I simply wish to ensure that my husband is remembered well.”

Imelda was surprised by how many people showed up for Hector’s funeral, although she probably shouldn’t have been. Hector was a kind man, a charming one, she was far from the only person who loved him. Still, the crowd that gathered for the modest service was almost overwhelming in its size. The amount of well wishes and offers of help was enough to almost break through her defenses and pull the tears from her eyes.

“The only assistance I require is in gathering proof,” Imelda said, to each person that offered their help, “If you could write down any memory you have of Hector and that man you  think may be relevant, I would like to collect them.”

The memories came, and they kept coming. When they could afford to do so, Oscar or Felipe would travel to the towns Hector had played in, and ask around at the venues Hector had written to her about.

Before Imelda knew it, another year had passed, and the guitar still played Coco’s song every night.

Ernesto’s voice was almost inescapable, it seemed that every other song on the radio was written by Imelda’s late husband. 

The radio in the workshop would change channels the minute Ernesto started singing. It freaked Oscar and Felipe out at first, but they got used to it, at one point Oscar had even asked for a song to be turned up. The radio had obliged, even as Oscar had frozen solid, staring into the distance as he realized what he’d done.

One night, Imelda sat in front of her vanity, brushing her hair out before bed, and when she looked at the window in the mirror, she could see Hector’s silhouette. She couldn’t see his face, but he was turned towards her, doubtlessly staring at her with a soft smile on his face, like he’d done so many nights before.

There was something about it, about this ghost of her husband sitting in the window, likely giving her the same love sick look he always had, that broke her. As she started sobbing the silhouette came closer, then disappeared. A hand stroked her hair until her tears dried. 

She drifted towards her bed and curled up in a little ball under her covers, holding herself as tightly as she could. Arms wrapped themselves around her and out of habit she went to place her hand over his, but there was nothing there for her to hold.

Imelda didn’t sleep that night.

By the third anniversary of his death, she had collected every story of her husband there was to collect. Whenever she wasn’t in her workshop, or taking care of Coco, Imelda was putting the stories in order.

A poster of Ernesto reached Santa Cecilia. He had Hector’s guitar. 

Imelda had to stop the musicos in the square from burning the poster, “I can prove that guitar is Hector’s, let me have this. And if you find any other pictures of Ernesto with my husband’s guitar, send them to me.”

The pictures soon came flooding in as well.

With the evidence compiled, Imelda began checking out law books from the library. The librarian ordered books on copyright law and intellectual property.

One night, at 8:15, Coco sang her lullaby along with the guitar, then stared at the toy.

“Mamá, when you said Pá was with abuelo and abuela… are you sure?”

Imelda hesitated, but eventually said, “Your father loves us very much.”

“He’s not stuck, is he?” Coco asked, brow crinkling in concern.

Imelda hadn’t known for sure how to answer that, but she shook her head and simply said, “No mi corazon, he’s just not ready to leave us.”

Coco accepted this with a little nod, “Good night Mamá, good night Papá.”

Imelda pressed a kiss to her daughter’s hair, stood and walked to her own room, doing her best to keep her steps calm and even. As soon as the door to her bedroom was closed she hissed, “You’re not stuck, right? You’ll be there to meet us when it’s our time, right Hector?”

The room was silent. Imelda waited for something, a sign, a whisper, a miracle, but there was only the faint sound of music coming from outside. She sighed and got ready for bed.

As she drifted off she heard a voice, an achingly familiar voice say, “I will never leave you again.”

It took until a little after the fifth anniversary of her husband’s death for Imelda to feel sure that she had all the evidence she needed, and a thorough enough understanding of the law to keep from getting steamrolled over by Ernesto’s lawyers. Now she just needed to figure out the best way to come forward.

Her confidence flagged. She was just one woman and she had no proof that Ernesto had killed Hector, just that Hector had written all of Ernesto’s songs. And that he wasn’t receiving any credit.

She could surely sue and receive enough money to set her family up for generations to come, but she didn’t want money.

Imelda had never cared about the money her husband’s songs brought in.

Then, it happened. It was a normal day, she was making shoes with her brothers, listening to the radio and keeping half an eye on the clock. Coco would come home from school soon, and Imelda would have to get started on dinner. The radio jumped around, avoiding Ernesto as it always did.

And then, “Remember me…”

It was like the first time the radio had played one of Hector’s songs, but somehow ten times worse. Oscar and Felípe froze, and so did their breath as it hit the air and turned to mist. The only movement Imelda could muster were a few shivers as the temperature in the room plummeted.

She smelled Hector’s cologne, just a quick whiff of it, and she heard a guitar. Not a stolen guitar playing a stolen lullaby over the radio, but one that floated invisible through the house, echoing and rageful and drowning out all other sound.

The radio lifted itself into the air, and then slammed onto the ground, it cracked but played on. So the radio slammed into the ground again and again until it was nothing more than a pile of broken pieces.

The guitar settled, then disappeared, the temperature returned to normal. 

Oscar and Felípe gulped in unison, each as white as a sheet. Imelda, took a few deep breaths, she put down the shoe she had just started and stood.

“Oscar, Felípe, will you go wait for Coco? Take her for ice cream,” Imelda said, and they were nodding, racing for the door before she’d even finished talking.

When they were gone, the room was briefly still, Imelda fought hard to keep her eyes from drifting down to the pile of rubble that had once been her radio.

Invisible arms wrapped around her legs, then she heard Hector weeping.

If she could have touched him, she would have bent down and pulled him into her arms. She would have rubbed his back and kissed his face and told him she loved him. If she could touch him she would have dragged him up to their room and held him until he fell asleep.

But if she could touch him, he wouldn’t be dead, would he?

So all she did was wait. The weeping went on for what felt like hours, and her feet ached by the time the arms wrapped around her legs released her. But she didn’t dare move, standing there and waiting was the only thing she could offer her husband.

When she looked down at her skirt, the lack of tear stains made her want to hit something.

“Hector, go upstairs, go rest. Or whatever it is ghosts do when they’re tired, I will clean up the radio.”

The broom in the corner fell over, Hector had always hated it when Imelda cleaned up after him. It didn’t happen often, if he made a mess he was always sure to clean it up before she got to it, but sometimes even the best of men get sick. Rather pathetically, the broom started trying to drag itself over to the destroyed radio.

It barely moved, Imelda wondered if Hector had tired himself out with all the theatrics.

“Go,” she said firmly, “I will handle this.”

The broom gave up, a kiss lingered against her cheek for a second or two, then she was alone. 

Imelda frowned as she realized she could feel the difference between Hector being in the room and him not being there. The startling thing was that she hadn’t felt the absence of his presence since… well, for a long time. Was he always watching her? 

It wouldn’t be too out of character for Hector to spend all day staring at her, grinning like a damn fool, the thought that he was doing that even now made her heart ache. But he had been such a vibrant man, a man who so enjoyed life and all it had to offer. He hadn’t spent all of his time staring at her, there’d been too much else to hold his interest.

There had been food to eat, and by extension recipes to learn, songs to write, guitar strings to pluck, a daughter to play with, and an endless list of random hobbies to try.

Now, what did her husband have? A wife to watch, a toy guitar to play for the daughter he loved, and a best friend to hate.

When Imelda was done cleaning up the shop, she went upstairs and sat on the edge of her bed.

“Hector, mi amor, are you happy here?”

There was, of course, nothing but silence.

“We love you, we miss you, a-and I wish-, I do not want to let you go. But I love you Hector,” her voice broke and she stared down at her lap, “I-I can’t-. It’s bad enough knowing what was done to you, what was taken, seeing you suffer like this? Por favor, if there is somewhere you can go, if there is an afterlife that will hold some peace for you-.”

The bed shook, and she heard that guitar again. It wasn’t quite as angry as before, rather it strummed out a tango much like the ones they used to dance to.

Next to her ear, rougher than she’d ever heard it in life, her husband’s voice growled, “I will never leave you again.”

Imelda stopped breathing.

The bed stilled. The guitar faded. She took in a shaking breath.

When Coco got home, Imelda sat with her and explained that Ernesto had started singing Coco’s lullaby. Imelda told her that she didn’t want to hear that man singing Hector’s songs anymore, so she would no longer be allowing a radio into the house. 

“From here on out if you want to hear music, you will have to rely on a record player,” Imelda said, sternly.

Coco nodded, “I understand, I don’t want to hear that murderer sing Pá’s songs either.”

“You-, who told you that Ernesto was a murderer?”

“I don’t know,” Coco shrugged, looking up at Imelda with a confused pout, “everybody I guess. Everyone in town knows what happened to Papá, was I not supposed to?”

Imelda sighed, “No, I just- I suppose I wanted to protect you from all that.”

Coco didn’t say anything, she just stared down at the table in between them.

A few months later, word reached their little corner of the world that Ernesto would be starring in a movie. A plan started forming in Imelda’s mind.

She kept up with his interviews as he promoted his movie, taking notes. She also started searching for a lawyer.

One night after everybody else was asleep, she set the law books down on her desk, and set her notes aside. Imelda stood, stretched, and walked to her dresser to pull out her nightgown. As she unbuttoned her dress, the room grew warmer.

Imelda frowned when that guitar came back, she hadn’t heard it in months, and she had assumed it only happened when Hector was feeling emotionally charged.

She shucked the dress and the guitar got louder, she glanced at the mirror and jumped when she saw her husband’s silhouette standing right beside her. Invisible hands began pushing her slip’s straps off her shoulders.

“Ay for god’s sake, you’re dead Hector, I can’t even begin to describe how inappropriate-,” she started to say, but cut off when he kissed her neck. 

She had missed her husband, in many, many, ways.

Imelda sighed, “Why now? It’s been almost six years?”

Her slip fell to the ground and her corset opened by itself. Kisses and love bites continued to make their way up and down her neck. Her linen chemise started opening button by button.

“You’ve figured out how to touch me, have you figured out how to let me touch you?”

The mouth on her neck paused, then grinned, it kept going and the guitar sounded almost teasing. She could just see Hector’s eyes sparking with mischief, and she felt a reflexive smile spread across her face.

The chemise joined her slip and corset on the floor, as did her bloomers. The knee high socks were allowed to stay, she noticed.

Hands gripped her hips and began directing her to the bench at her amour, and she gasped. Hector always had her sit there when there was something very specific he wanted to do to her.

“Hector,” she whispered, “this-. We shouldn’t. None of this should-.”

The back of her knees hit the bench and she sat, invisible hands spread her legs wide and she could almost feel him pressing against her as his mouth reappeared on the tops of her breasts. Her knickers started creeping down her hip and she instinctively lifted herself off the bench long enough for them to be pulled off completely.

She closed her eyes, and let herself forget that her husband was dead. His hands caressed her softly and his mouth sucked on her sweetly, as a guitar plucked out an impassioned love song.

After that night she barely went a day without her husband's caress.

He was becoming stronger, she realized, he touched her more, interacted with the house more, his silhouette appeared in the mirror more. Another month, and she stopped bothering with the record player, whenever she was home the invisible guitar followed her from room to room.

Ernesto’s movie came out, two weeks later the lawyer she had chosen knocked on their door. She invited him in, and swallowed back her amusement as he tried in vain to find the source of the playful song Hector was strumming.

“I can not prove any violent crime, but I can prove that my husband’s songs and guitar were stolen,” Imelda said, after briefly bothering with pleasantries.

“Stolen by who?” the lawyer, Señor Bererra asked.

In answer, Imelda placed the family photo of her husband holding what was at the time a brand new guitar down on the table, followed by some of the letters Hector had sent with song lyrics and dates.

Señor Bererra picked up the photo and stared at it, jaw slowly growing slack, “Is that…?”

“That bastard was my husband’s best friend,” Imelda all but growled, and Hector began playing a war march, “he was at our wedding, he was my daughter’s godfather! Then my husband showed up dead in the street with no guitar, no song book, and all of his valuables. And now, he’s playing my daughter’s lullaby as a tawdry love song!”

Bererra gaped, “I-I think I need further proof. What you’re implying is that-.”

“I know what I’m implying, and I’d be happy to provide whatever proof you need,” Imelda pulled out a folder, “here are the receipts from when we bought that guitar, and correspondents between Hector and the guitar’s maker discussing the design. Oh, did I mention it was custom made for him? Here is a signed letter from the guitar’s maker verifying that he made the guitar for Hector, not Ernesto. Here is a wedding photo with Ernesto, myself, and Hector, here is a photo of Hector and Ernesto preparing for a performance in Mexico City two days before my husband was poisoned. Ah, speaking of which, here is my husband’s death certificate and a signed letter from the coroner verifying he most likely died of curare poison. Anything else?”

Instead of responding, he shuffled through everything, shock giving way to grief. Eventually he put everything down, and sat back in his chair.

“I have all of his albums,” he said, in a quiet voice.

“I would thank you to keep them far away from this house. None of us wish to hear Hector’s songs being sung by that scum.”

He didn’t show any sign of having heard her and for a minute she worried she had chosen poorly. He shook his head, sighed, then started nodding instead. With a resigned look he held his hand out for her file, when she handed it to him he immediately began flipping through it.

Imelda waited. Before long, Hector began playing random melodies, and plucking out experimental new songs.

Finally, Señor Bererra put everything back, closed the file, and pushed it back towards her, “You are right, you won’t be able to prove Ernesto de La Cruz killed your husband, not with his team of lawyers. However, you have enough here to end his career if it were to come to light, you and your daughter will be set for life.”

“We are already taken care of,” Imelda waved his words off, “I want my husband to be remembered as the artist he was, I want the entire world to know that he wrote those songs, that he was the genius behind Ernesto’s success. And if I have to burn everything Ernesto has built for himself to the ground in order to make that happen, well! I will consider that a perk.”

He pursed his lips, “Coming forward with this information would be extremely risky, for you and your daughter.”

The guitar music abruptly stopped.

“I am not afraid of Ernesto. That vapid-.”

“It is not Ernesto de la Cruz I am speaking of, although I think it bears mentioning that we have reason to believe he has already killed once for success. It is his fans. They will not accept this easily, some will accuse you of lying, they may come after you and your family in a misguided attempt to protect their idol.”

Imelda drummed her fingers on the table. She hadn’t considered that.

Hector plucked out a nervous melody, he had never been one for caution, not until Coco was born. Even then, while he had staunchly guarded their daughter from every swinging cabinet door and potentially dirty fly, he hadn’t bothered exercising the same care when she was out of his arms. But Imelda recognized his plea for caution in the song.

“I will talk to the sheriff,” she decided, “see what protections he can offer us.”

And she would abandon some of the flashier plans she had made. Much as she would love to grind Ernesto under her heel, she would not allow any harm to come to her little girl. As long as people knew the truth about Ernesto and Hector, that would be enough.

“Ah, sí, that is an excellent idea,” Señor Bererra agreed, “in the meantime, we should have copies made of all this. And I will begin drafting some letters for some friends of mine. This will be quite the undertaking, I will most likely need help.”

“Very well,” she nodded, “is there anything else you need from me?”

The meeting went by swiftly after that, Señor Bererra explained what she might expect to happen next, what letters he would be writing, what judges and agencies he would be contacting. All that. She offered him one of the guest rooms, since he had come all the way from the city, and he accepted.

At dinner that night he seemed quite charmed by Coco’s questions about his job, and increasingly confused by the guitar music that followed Imelda in and out of the room.

He didn’t ask, not at dinner, and not in the morning on his way to the train station. 

Imelda spoke to the sheriff and he offered to round up volunteers to guard her house when the news broke, she accepted, despite her pride. She had her daughter to think of, after all. 

By the time Señor Bererra returned with his secretary to make copies and take pictures of the evidence, the towns’ musicos had formed a militia they were calling the Hector Riveria Revenge Patrol. Hector was quite touched.

Then, things started happening very quickly.

Señor Bererra got in touch with somebody in the government who did something concerning copyright.

News broke two weeks later that Ernesto was being investigated for multiple copyright violations. 

A reporter came to town and asked around the square about Ernesto, and Hector. Somebody, Imelda didn’t know who, spilled the whole story, suspected murder and all.

The story hit the front page of multiple newspapers, mere days after it became known that Ernesto had another movie in the works.

More reporters came.

Then the fanatics arrived. Imelda had expected yelling, anger, even violence. She hadn’t expected a group of fans to camp out in the streets outside their home with a record player and every single one of Ernesto’s albums. Señor Bererra advised her that throwing shoes at them might hurt her case.

Hector did his best to drown them out, but the anger and pain in his songs hurt just a little more than the sound of Ernesto singing Hector’s wedding vows.

After two weeks of those bastards camping outside, Imelda stepped out of the house to do the grocery shopping, only to be met by wolf whistles and drunken offers. 

“Oh terrific,” she grumbled, eyeing the pile of yelling morons leaning on the house across the street, “somebody gave them tequila.”

“Ay mamacita,” a red faced man hollered, trying and failing to get to his feet, “how’s about you let me give you a reason to remeeeemmmber meeeee.”

A barrage of drunken giggles and guffaws followed his attempts to sing Coco’s lullaby, and they only grew louder when the man finally got to his feet, managing to dance with all the grace of a lame rocking horse.

Hector started playing louder, and the wind picked up.

When the man was swaying in front of the record player, he let out a startled shout, then fell onto the table holding the record player, smashing it.

The guffaws turned to angry shouts.

“Who pushed me?!” The man shouted.

“My record player!” One of his compatriots, presumably the one who owned the now obliterated record player, gasped.

“Hey! That record was limited edition," yelled another.

“Aw the music,” the fourth man lamented, then took another swig from the bottle in his hand.

“I mean it, which one of you assholes pushed me?” 

“Nobody pushed you, you moron, you fell and smashed my record player!”

“No, no, somebody pushed me! I felt it.”

“Do you have any idea how much that record cost me?”

“That record-?! Do you have any idea how much the record player cost me?!”

“I know one of you assholes pushed me, now fess up or I’ll-.”

“Or you’ll what?! Break my record player?”

“And my record!”

“Hey lady, do you have a record player we can borrow,” the fourth man called out to her, over the arguing.

“Would you forget about your damn record for a second?!”

“It was limited edition!”

“You know what?!” the first man pushed both of his companions, “There! See how you fucking like- oof.”

Predictably, the three men stumbled their way through a drunken brawl, while the fourth grumbled and scooted away from them. Meanwhile, one by one, all of the records they brought started floating up and smashing themselves against the side of the building they’d been sitting against. By the time the sheriff arrived to break up the fighting, there was only one album still intact.

The sheriff “accidentally” stomped on it as he dragged one of the men off the others.

Hector’s chuckle echoed down the street.

Imelda spent her time in the market racking her brain for a single instance where Hector had followed her out of the house. She had only ever felt his presence in their home, she had assumed he couldn’t leave it. But now the faint sound of Hector’s guitar followed her as she ran her errands.

There were more fanatics, most weren’t calculating enough to actually reach Imelda, usually she only found out about these fans when she had company over and the men would boast about how they’d ran this fan or that out of town. One memorable exception was a young woman with a sweet smile, and a mean right hook. She managed to sneak past the musicos and the Hector Riviera Revenge Patrol to knock on Imelda’s door. 

As soon as Imelda opened the door the young woman attacked her, fortunately, Imelda had been holding a shoe at the time and had no qualms with using it.

She’d sported a shiner for the next week, anyone who saw it reacted with either sympathy or awe.

Mostly awe.

Things only got worse after Imelda traveled to the city to tell a judge her story. The courthouse had been surrounded by reporters and fans alike, and she was encouraged to play up her grief for her husband as the cameras flashed. The courtroom itself was empty with the exception of her, the judge, the stenographer, and the lawyers. She was offered a truly obscene amount of money to drop the case.

“Exactly how much money do you think I’d need to convince death to give my husband back?” she had asked the opposing lawyers with narrowed eyes, “I will accept no less.”

They hadn’t responded, and she had turned away from them in disgust.

The judge accidentally let slip to the press that after hearing her testimony he felt the case was all but over. The fans who rolled into town started seeming a bit desperate. Somebody painted threats on the side of her house. A few rocks were thrown through her window. A young couple were caught in the act of trying to burn down the house.

A few months into this pandemonium, Imelda stepped out of her house to head to a meeting with the sheriff and almost tripped over a young man holding a guitar. The boy had been lying on her stoop but immediately got to his feet, stuttering apologies as he did. Imelda examined him closely.

He didn’t look like any of the musicos from town.

“Who are you? What do you want? If this is about de La Cruz my lawyer has advised me-.”

“No! Well, yes, but also no-. I uh, I don’t really,” he shrugged, “I-I guess I just want to um p-pay respects? Or um apologize? I don’t know. I just um wanted to acknowledge, you know, how not great what you’ve been through is?”

Imelda frowned at him suspiciously.

He shuffled his feet and shrugged again, “I know you’ve probably had a lot of Ernesto fans knocking at your door, I read about that stuff in the news sometimes, b-but-. Well, maybe somebody else has come to offer their condolences, I mean, I hope other people have. B-but as an ex Ernesto fan, I-I feel like I should be one of them?”

“Ah,” Imelda said, not sure how to take this, “I am headed to the sheriff, do you know your way to the cemetery?”

“No?”

“Come, I will give you directions, you can pay your respects there,” she started walking, not bothering to check if he kept up with her. After a few beats he appeared in her preferary, so she launched into her explanation on how to get to Hector’s grave.

The boy hared off as soon as she was done, but reappeared outside her door as the sun fell, nervously strumming on his guitar.

“You’re back,” she informed him, through the window above his head.

He glanced up at her, then nodded, “I’ve been a traveling musician for a while, I don’t really know where else to go.”

“The inn.”

He grimaced sheepishly, “I’d need money for that.”

“Then take your guitar to the town square and make some.”

“I uh I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Well… the only songs I know are- are your husbands.”

“Ah.” Imelda opened the window so she could stare at him.

“It doesn’t feel right, y’know? Singing his songs,” the boy told her, “not after what happened to him.”

Imelda sighed, leaning crossed arms on the window sill and staring up at the stars, “What do you want? My permission?”

The boy took a couple beats to think about it, “No, I think even if he came back from the dead and gave me permission it still wouldn’t feel right. It- I- His ability to sing his own songs was stolen from him, I-I could never-.”

He cut himself off and sighed, heavily.

Hector played a sad melody that echoed into the street. After a few beats, the boy strummed along, then trailed off.

“I don’t know what to do now,” he whispered.

“I know the feeling,” Imelda quietly admitted. It was easier, somehow, to be honest with this stranger than it was to be honest with her well-wishing neighbors.

The boy looked up at her, eyes shining with sympathy.

“My husband and I used to sing and dance together on nights like this,” she closed her eyes and listened to her husband’s ghost play a song of tragedy, “I still love music, I still love dancing, but to do it without him? What would be the point? It would never hold the same joy as it did when he was alive.”

“So you’ve just stopped dancing?”

“I… I have found other sources of joy,” she said, “other things that keep me going. Like my daughter, or the shoes I make, even the fight to ensure my husband is given the credit he is due. I do not dance any more, but then again, I didn’t use to know the pride to be found in a well made pair of shoes.”

The boy nodded, slowly, eyes growing distant. He looked down at the guitar in his hands, strummed out a few chords, then sighed and leaned his head back against the wall of her house.

“Your husband was a genius-,” he started to say, but was cut off when Imelda broke out laughing.

Hector briefly stopped playing, then when he started again the song was at once playful and angry.

“Sorry, sorry, I-, sí, of course he was incredibly talented, he had a real gift,” she got herself under control, “b-but he also was an idiot. A complete fool.”

“What? Really?”

“Sí, first and foremost, he could have had any woman in town, but he chose the most difficult one he could find,” Imelda said, with a wry smile, “then there was his complete inability to make breakfast, he could make lunch and dinner just fine, but breakfast? If it was before that first cup of coffee it was beyond him. He was terrible at mopping, somehow, but always insisted that if he tried one more time he’d get the hang of it. And he always had way too much faith in people, the poor fool thought everybody in the world was as good hearted as he was.”

The boy gave her a few beats of silence, a chance to say more, then said, “He sounds pretty great.”

She took a deep breath to keep from crying, “I could talk about him all day, and only ever cover half of what made that idiot the love of my life.”

“I’m sorry he’s gone.”

Imelda didn’t respond, all too aware of the love song Hector had started playing.

Eventually, she gave the boy some food, and enough money to pay for a night at the inn. The kid hung around a month or two, joining the musicos in the square, only ever playing accompaniment. He helped to run a few of the more stubborn fans out of town, and last Imelda saw of him he was following some doe eyed girl to the train station, carrying both of their suitcases.

He was not the last of Ernesto’s ex fans to come give their condolences. Soon, there were as many well wishers running around town as there were enraged fanatics. Imelda never let any of them into her home, but she did agree to a memorial being set up for Hector in the town square.

Hector’s songs stopped sounding so sad.

Finally, there came the vultures in their fine suits. Lawyers who promised to get her three times the cash el Señor Bererra could, talent agents offering up a career with the stars if she sang Hector’s songs, even a few fellows with cameras who wanted to make a documentary about her situation.

After consulting her lawyer, Imelda sent each of them packing, but kept the contact information of the most earnest seeming documentarian.

“My only wish is for my husband to be remembered, for him to have the credit he is due,” she told him as she accepted his business card, “I don’t want any of this attention, but perhaps, when the court case is over, you might tell his story.”

“I would be honored,” the starry eyed young man had said, almost breathlessly.

When he was gone and the door was closed, Imelda remarked to Hector, “Hope that boy was just playing innocent, they’ll tear him to shreds in that business if he’s actually that naive.”

Hector chuckled, playing something light.

“Would you want your story told? They’d put it on the silver screen, you’d be even more famous than you are now,” she asked, walking towards the kitchen.

The guitar trailed off and she felt a sigh brush the back of her neck, a ragged voice next to her ear said, “I only want to come home.”

She stopped walking, staring straight ahead. She tried to swallow the emotion rising in her throat, then took a deep breath and continued on with her chores. The guitar picked back up, playing a song of longing.

Slowly, things started to wind down. The money from the various lawsuits started to trickle in, and just to make a point, Imelda donated most of it. As far as she cared, the day was won as soon as the world learned the truth, she never wanted the money. She wanted her husband, alive and whole, and if she couldn’t have him, she wasn’t about to accept Ernesto’s blood money as a substitute.

The well wishers and mourners now outnumbered the enraged fans.

Hector followed her wherever she went.

Coco started trying to learn how to play the guitar.

And somehow, Imelda felt that things weren’t quite over, that it wasn’t safe to let her guard down. So, she always answered the door with a shoe in hand, even though every time she opened it she was met with a friendly face.

Imelda thought perhaps she would finally have closure when she got Hector’s guitar back. Yet, even once it was sitting on their family’s ofrenda, surrounded by wedding and family portraits, there was still this nagging feeling that things weren’t over.

She wasn’t done, there was still more to do.

One night, a week after the last of Ernesto’s blood money had been donated, Imelda sat at her kitchen table. Her hands were cupped around some cinnamon tea that had long since gone cold. She was still, but her thoughts raced.

When they reached the finish line, she all but deflated.

“You need to move on,��� she told the gently strumming guitar that had been trying to soothe her all night, “please Hector, I need to know you’ve found peace.”

His voice was quiet, but the kitchen shook from the emotion it held, “I will never leave you again.”

“Trust me, I am aware,” she huffed, being very careful not to shout and wake the whole house, “there will never be a day that goes by where I won’t miss you. But I’m not asking you to leave, not forever. I am asking you to move on, to go… I don’t know, wait for us at the pearly gates. Visit us on the day of the dead, and play Coco’s lullaby in heaven every night, but stop-. Hector, please, stop punishing yourself.”

As soon as those words were out of her mouth, Imelda knew what was left to do.

The air was still, the guitar silent. She could feel him, however, like a thick blanket on her shoulders, like a warm hand in hers, like a vow on their wedding day. She could feel him standing taut, every intangible muscle in his body tensed for action.

Imelda closed her eyes and prepared herself to lose him, to truly be without him.

“I forgive you, Hector,” she whispered, “I forgive you for leaving, I forgive you for dying, I forgive you for not being here. You can stop atoning now. You can rest.”

Like a cut guitar spring, the tension snapped and the heavy warmth lifted from her shoulders. She held her breath, waiting for the guitar to pick back up.

It didn’t.

“Hector?”

There wasn’t so much as a single note.

Imelda’s breaths sounded like thunder in the empty kitchen. One of them shook, then the next one came out sounding like a whimper. She buried her face in her hands and sobbed. No invisible hand stroked her hair, there was no mournful melody to assure her she wasn’t grieving alone, it was just her, crying as quietly as she could in the empty room.

When she heard the creak of a floor board, she cut herself off mid sob. Holding her breath, she listened as quiet footsteps approached the kitchen, coming from the foyer where the stairs up to the bedrooms were. Swallowing a curse she took out her handkerchief and did her best to clean her face.

The footsteps were too heavy to be Coco’s and the only other people in the house were Imelda’s brothers, so when somebody pushed the kitchen door open behind her, she said, “Sorry hermano, I didn’t wake you, did I?”

But it wasn’t one of her brothers who responded.

“Oh no Imelda, you didn’t wake me,” a deep, smooth voice replied, “I’ve been up for hours. Drove all through the night to get here, in fact.”

Imelda gasped, standing from her chair and turning, “Ernesto?!”

He closed the door behind him, and smiled at her cooly, simmering rage lighting his bloodshot eyes. Ernesto’s hair was not quite perfect, his suit almost wrinkled, his stubble just a tiny bit more visible than was considered decent. By his standards, he was an absolute mess.

“Hola Imelda, how have you been,” he said, as casual as you please, despite the revolver held in his right hand, “I myself, I haven’t been well. You see, I’ve lost everything thanks to-.”

It took a few seconds for her brain to register what she was seeing, who was in her kitchen, then it clicked and without thinking, she took the chair and hit him with it.

“You’ve lost everything?!” She yelled as he staggered back, no longer caring if she woke the rest of the house, “You’ve lost everything? Hector has lost his life! I have lost my husband! My daughter has lost her father! All because you couldn’t write your own damn songs.”

He tried to speak, but she hit him with the chair again.

“Was it worth it? Was all the fortune and fame worth killing your best friend?!”

“It was,” he raised the revolver before she could hit him again, and although she snarled, still enraged, she stopped.

The last thing she wanted was for Coco to lose both of her parents.

“Well, good for you then,” she sneered, “so glad my husband’s death was so profitable for you.”

Ernesto glared, cocking the gun, “I worked hard to get where I was-.”

“Worked hard! Hah! Oh what?! Did your hand get tired stirring the poison in Hector’s drink?”

“Shut up,” he hissed.

But Imelda shook her head, “This isn’t one of your movies Ernesto, I’m not following your script. You killed my husband-.”

“You can’t prove that.”

“I don’t have to,” she smirked, “you wouldn’t be here threatening me if I did.”

“I suppose you’re right,” he sighed, “you didn’t need to prove it to ruin my life, which is why I’m not here to threaten you.”

“Then what do you want?” she snapped, putting the chair down so she could put her hands on her hips.

“You know what the most painful part has been?”

“The feeling of the devil clawing at your soul?”

“What all this has done to my legacy,” he ignored her, apparently determined to get through whatever monologue he’d prepared for her, “I was going to be remembered as one of the greatest artists who ever lived, people would have worshiped me for the next hundred years, I was going to go down in history. But now? Now you have taken my legacy and turned it into ash to spread on Hector’s grave.”

“Hector shouldn’t even be in a grave,” Imelda said, through gritted teeth. If she wasn’t a mother, if she didn’t have Coco to think of, she would hit him with the chair again.

“And yet, he is. What good does it do to take my success and give it to him? He has no use for fame and fortune,” Ernesto chuckled a little and she snarled almost against her will, “even when he was alive, all this meant nothing to him. For whatever reason, all he wanted was you.”

“Did you ever stop to think that he would have let you sing his songs if you gave proper credit? That you could have had your fame and fortune, and he could have come home safe and sound?” Imelda interjected, she didn’t want to listen to this monster’s practiced speech, she wanted to know how he lived with himself, “Did you even try to negotiate, or did you skip straight to murder?”

Ernesto sighed, “I wanted to sing to the world, he wanted you. Since you have taken my dream from me, it is only fair that I take his.”

“You’ve already taken his dream, you killed him, remember?” she shook her head, making a sound of disgust, “All he wanted was to come home and you stabbed him in the back for it. You understand that, don’t you?”

“Imelda, do you understand I am pointing a loaded gun at you?”

“Sí, it’s the only thing stopping me from beating you to death with a chair.”

“I’m here to kill you Imelda,” he took a step towards her, “you have killed my dream for Hector’s sake, so now I am killing Hector’s dream.”

“You’re going to kill me?”

“Sì.”

“No matter what I do?”

He nodded, and started to speak, but didn’t get the words out before she had raised the chair once more and knocked him back a few steps. The anger was still there, but now she was fueled just as much by fear, fear that if she hesitated Coco would be left an orphan by the night’s end.

Ernesto tried to point the gun at her, but she knocked his arm away even as he pulled the trigger. The sound of the bullet leaving the chamber was deafening, but Imelda didn’t dare let it cow her. She swung the chair again, forcing him to jump back in order to avoid it. 

He raised the revolver again, and pulled back the hammer. She raised the chair for another blow, stepping towards him, but knew there was no way she’d beat his trigger finger.

The kitchen started to shake just as the second bullet whistled past her ear.

Imelda almost didn’t hear the guitar music over the sound of her own heartbeat. She had to put the chair down again so she could use it to steady herself as Ernesto was thrown to the floor.

The revolver flew out of his hand and across the room.

“What in the-?!” he started to say, then cut off when he apparently recognized the melody playing.

Imelda had never thought Coco’s lullaby could sound so haunting.

“Remember me,” Hector’s voice echoed low, multiplied and layered on top of itself, at once a guttural growl and a choir of  hissed whispers, “and prepare to say goodbye.”

“H-Hector?” Ernesto tried to right himself, only to get slammed back onto the floor.

“Remember me. You owe me for your life.”

Ernesto struggled against whatever force was holding him down as the shaking settled and the air froze, “Hector, what-?.”

“You tried to send me to heaven,” Hector sang, “but now you’ll burn in hell.”

Ernesto was lifted from the floor and pinned to the cabinets instead. 

“You killed me for my daughter’s song,” slowly, Hector appeared above Ernesto, face colder than it had ever been in life, his feet didn’t quite touch the floor, “I hope it served you well.”

The gun dragged itself back into Ernesto’s hand and he struggled against it as it raised itself to his temple, “How-?! What-?! No. No!”

“Remember me. The blood you spilt got you far,” Hector sneered, “Remember me. My stopped heart got you where you are.”

“Hector, I’m-. Please, I’m sorry, Hector please!”

“No, don’t try to beg! When you took everything from me,” Hector shook his head, fists clenched, “I’ll let you have one last breath to…”

Hector trailed off, the guitar plucking out a crescendo while a mismatched beat underscored the whispered echoes of his latest refrain.

“Remember me,” Hector commanded, disappearing from sight even as the hammer pulled itself away from the barrel.

As the guitar finished with an angry flourish, Imelda realized that mismatched beat was not accompinate like she’d assumed, but footsteps. The kitchen door slammed open and people spilled into the room. 

Imelda didn’t look at them, she couldn’t take her eyes off Ernesto as tears spilled down his cheeks. With the gun still jammed between his hand and his temple, the trigger twitched away from the barrel.

“No!” It wasn’t just one voice, but several. All combined the shouts were almost enough. But they couldn’t quite drown out the gunshot.

Ernesto’s body collapsed back onto the kitchen floor.

Imelda felt Hector’s presence slip away.

“Imelda,” one of her brothers, she didn’t bother to check which one, shouted as they pulled her into an embrace, “thank god, when we heard the gunshots-. The door, it wouldn’t open and-, and-, oh thank god you’re ok.”

“Señora Riviera,” the sheriff put a hand on her shoulder, “are you alright, did he hurt you?”

“He tried to kill me,” she said, faintly.

Several people gasped, and there was a great deal of shouting. A few people surrounded the body, blocking it from her view. She blinked, the world suddenly coming back into focus.

“Coco? Where is she, is she ok?” Imelda asked, raising her voice to be heard over the noise.

“She’s with Oscar,” Felípe told her, only half letting her go, “come on, I’ll take you to her, before she comes racing in here and sees-. I’ll take you to her.”

Imelda allowed herself to be led away, the last thing she wanted now was for Coco to see a dead body in their kitchen. The sheriff called out a promise to take care of things behind her, and she turned to give him a polite thank you, but he was already bent over Ernesto’s body.

Felípe took her to the workshop, where she could hear a soothing melody playing on an invisible guitar. Inwardly, she sighed and wondered if she would ever convince Hector to move on after this.

When she stepped through the workshop door, Coco looked up and shouted, “Má!”

“Mija!”

They ran into each other’s arms and squeezed tight, Coco started crying. Imelda did her best to soothe her even as it started to sink in that she almost lost her life. Her daughter was almost orphaned. Then what would have happened to her?

Imelda shoved those thoughts away and focused on her little girl. She let the sheriff do as he promised and spent what was left of the night hugging Coco close.

When Coco was eventually asleep, and Imelda was alone with an invisible guitar, she drifted off. The transition from waking to dreaming was almost seamless. Almost.

“Ah, you’ve learned a new trick,” she remarked hollowly, even in her dream, she felt boneless, exhausted. She couldn’t stop picturing Coco in her funeral garb.

They were dancing, her in her wedding dress, him in his musico suit. He’d saved up and got a real suit for the wedding, a modest suit, but one meant for formal occasions rather than preforming; it had met an unfortunate accident shortly after arriving from the tailors. In hindsight, Imelda wondered if the accident had anything to do with the fact that Hector had lived with Ernesto at the time, Ernesto had never wanted Hector to settle down.

In real life, her family’s courtyard had been full to the brim with people. Here in her dream, it was just them. Cheek to cheek.

“Sorry I wasn’t there,” Hector’s voice only sounded a little muffled, a little distant, “I-I was saying goodbye to Coco.”

Imelda blinked a few times, before the words made sense, “So, you’re moving on?”

“Uh, sí, eventually. I uh, I have to wait until the day of the dead,” he smiled sheepishly, she couldn’t see the smile, but she felt it pressed against her face and knew exactly what it looked like, “it-. I will need-. Leaving won’t be easy.”

Imelda nodded, then pulled back so she could see him, she drank his face in but couldn’t manage anything else, it took almost everything she had in her just to whisper, “I will miss you.”

“I will visit, every year, I promise,” he held her tighter, but the sensation was muffled, “although not like this. I-I don’t have any unfinished business anymore. Once I move on-.”

He cut himself off, but Imelda’s tired mind eventually churned out what he’d left unsaid. Hector would be at peace, but that meant she would lose him. For real this time. She swallowed back the urge to rescind her forgiveness, to come up with some other reason why he should keep haunting them. He could touch her sometimes, and talk to her in her dreams, and play his guitar. It was almost, almost, like he was alive.

But she loved him too much to keep him, “Promise me you’ll be happy. Wherever you go when…”

“I will be as happy as a man can be when he is separated from the love of his life, and his daughter.”

Imelda nodded, closing her eyes, resting her chin back on his shoulder, “Good enough.”

“And I will wait for you,” Hector said, “at the gates. However long you take, however long we are apart, I will wait for you, mí amor.”

They spent the rest of her dream dancing in silence, tears mingling on their joined cheeks.

The last month didn’t last near long enough. Hector managed to appear to her four more times, but never as solidly as he had on that night; he appeared to Coco once, to give his final goodbye, but Imelda didn’t find out about that until days after it happened.

It ended on the Day of the Dead. Imelda allowed Coco to stay up all night, and they danced along to the invisible guitar that followed Imelda wherever she went. Eventually, Coco could barely keep her eyes open, but stubbornly persevered through the night. Finally the toy guitar Hector had gifted Coco plucked out Coco’s lullaby, the last few notes seeming to echo through the room as the sun rose. 

Then it fell silent.

[kelpiemomma]

work brainworms activated

Still rolling why Akari might've been yoinked in my head (mistaken for Dawn? From a wealthy family they ran away from? Clones of former hisuians that escaped and are wanted? Upset a stalker on the subway?) but Rei was with her when it happened since they live together. Akari manages to get Rei to escape with their pikachus (they both have pikachus. Twin pikachus? Maybe.) but gets grabbed as a result. Rei is obviously a wreck and tries to chase after whoever took his twin, but they vanish like dust in the wind and he's left standing in the middle of the street with two upset, sparking mice. He manages to eventually get to the authorities to report her abduction and their home turns into a crime scene. He has to stay at a hotel and he's so dumbstruck by the night that he passes out.

Neither of the younger twins show up in the morning which throws the whole gear station groove off. They've called out sick before, sometimes one and sometimes both, and they've run late, but they've never just not shown up. And never neither of them completely ghosting the station. Everybody is concerned, especially when their phones can't be reached, so someone from the station cuts early to go check on them. And then they call Ingo or Emmet frantic bc the twins' home is a crime scene??? What if they're dead???

Emmet starts blowin up Akari and reis phones while he and Ingo run out bc holy shit the babies??? The kids??? The CRIME SCENE??? They're nearly at the listed residence when Rei picks up, groggy as fuck and voice hoarse. Emmet starts demanding to know what happened and Rei just breaks down into tears, explaining that the home had been broken into the day before and Akari had been taken, had pushed him out of the way so he'd escaped. He's practically hysterical as he goes over it again until Emmet promises that they'll come pick him up and he can stay with him or ingo so he's not alone. Ingo sends a message to the group chat that Akari's been kidnapped and everyone is demanding to know WHAT THE FUCK??? WHAT THE FUCK!!!

Rei gets picked up by the twins and it's weird for all involved that there is one set of twins and not the other. There's a weird empty space by Rei's side even though both shoulders hold a Pikachu. Ingo & Emmet silently guide him out, they go and pick up some of his stuff (clothes, cause he's still in his PJs, tooth brush & tooth paste, etc) and they go to the apartment where Ingo and Emmet live. They don't technically live Together, but their rooms are right next door to each other with a connecting door. They are, after all, Grown Ass Adults who need their own space as much as they're a set. Ingo is the only one with a spare room so Rei settles his stuff there, and then he crashes again while the twins try to figure out what they're going to do (bc like hell are they going to let this go unchecked and let the authorities handle it on their own??? Fuck no, that's their family, their employee, their kid. They're gonna get her back.)

[bluegekk0]

How would a nice fishing trip with the family be like?

Oooh fishing... Blue Lake would be the place they'd go to, there are many fish-like critters to be found there, and it's a very peaceful, isolates region without many dangerous beasts. The family absolutely visits it to spend some time there, especialy for fishing.

Grimm takes charge of the whole thing. In fact, he's the one organizing the trip, after coming home one day with a fancy fishing rod and a whole bunch of fishing equipment. The first few times he had to convince Vyrm to go, as you'd expect, his husband wasn't too fond of visiting such a large body of water, but in the end he felt encouraged by the notion that the others would be there with him. Before they leave, Grimm, with Holly's help, prepares all the equipment and everything else they're going to need, while Vyrm and Hornet pack lunch for everyone.

When it's time to leave, they all gather at the Stag station, where they hop on the Stag and travel towards the station close the road to the lake, located near Salubra's house. In the game, that path is as good as inaccessible from the Crossroads, but for the purpose of the AU I do think there's a rocky path up that cliff from where you can enter the cave with the lake. So the family takes a short hike up that path, Hornet leading with Grimm right behind her (and the twins sitting in the two carriers strapped to Grimm), Holly, Lewk and Zote following, and Vyrm at the end of the group keeping watch behind them.

Once they reach the lake, they set up all the equipment on the shore, which includes all the fishing gear as well as a bunch of blankets to rest on, especially for the little ones. After that, they're all free to do what they want. They have a few fishing rods so it all depends who's up for that. Grimm finds it pretty exciting so you can usually find him fishing alongside Hornet or, if he manages to convince him, Vyrm. The latter tends to sit on the blanket and keep a close eye on the twins, especially Asta since she can't sit still for a moment and always tries to sneak out towards the water, often dragging Milo with her. When not fishing, Grimm takes the twins closer to the water, letting them splash around for a bit under his careful watch.

Meanwhile, Holly, Zote and Lewk hang out by the water, Zote usually tries to flex his terrible stone skipping skills, while Holly and Lewk play in the crystal clear shallows. Lewk loves running along the shore looking for interesting rocks, shells or anything else he can find, which he then proudly shows to everyone. Holly enjoys observing the beasts that slowly gather around them, especially Maskflies that visit the Blue Lake during their mating season, to engage in silly displays and dances, and show off their colorful plumage. Sometimes, if she's not fishing, Hornet joins them, either going for a swim or climbing the rocks around the lake to help Lewk in his search for little trinkets.

Then they all gather for lunch, enjoying the time together and chatting about how their day is going. They share their findings, including all the fish that were caught, and then slowly start preparing to leave.

After they get home, late in the day, they prepare all the fish, usually to be stored for food or sold on the market. The pups are usually exhausted at that point, so they get tucked in bed right after their baths while the rest of the family rests in the living room. Zote sticks around for a while and then goes back to his house, afterwards the others also return to their rooms.

---

Got a little carried away but I thought describing the full scene was really fun. I definitely have to draw it one day, especially now that I have a more concrete vision of what the Blue Lake looks in the AU.

[thesmpisonfire]

Could you tell me more about Bagi in your AU?

Bagi is the nimbasa gym leader!! When they were all kids, Bagi and Cellbit would race to see who'd finish the gym circuit first but right at the start Bagi fell behind bc she fell in love with the intricacies a gym would have (Cellbit ended up meeting Quackity in the way and he got a new rival from there), so she decided that she'd be a gym leader someday (Cellbit wanted the same but more as a third option if his detective business wouldn't work and neither would his research dream job)

Bagi got really close to also becoming a Champion but decided not to and just won against the league before dropping it and signing up to work at the Nimbass Gym, at the time an electric type. When she got the position as the leader, she managed to get permission and changed it for a Psychic type, making it so the trainers would have to solve riddles and puzzles to get to her

She also works as a consultant for the museum and likes to study about the mess that Team Plasma caused when they were around, she met Pac and Mike while she was still a low lever worker at the gym and they had just moved in to be a low lever worker at Gear Station. The three clicked very fast and became really close friends, sharing an ap for a while before Bagi moved out when she got promoted

After Pac went missing, she, Mike and Cellbit worked day and night to find a way to locate him while Tubbo and Quackity went around asking people if they had seen Pac. The three ended up trying to use an old incantation up in Dragonspiral Tower, but it only caused the already thin time and space membrane to become thinner and so down went Cellbit as well

Bagi now has put someone else as a substitute in her leader position while Mike did the same to his subway boss position, both completely overtaken by the need to get their family back

[pykanico]

Some funfact about the Emmet Zoroark AU (who really need a name)

So yeah i just going to try to explain some interesting part of the AU here it is mostly some fact pre-Hisui.

Emmet and Em are absolutely different person, Emmet was a human, Em is a Zorua/Zoroark who just happens to impersonate

Emmet is dead, He died at 10 years old, 5 years before he could start his journey with Ingo

Em was able to impersonate Emmet very well because they were close friends and he used to imitate him just for fun, but he could never totally get him right

Emmet was 6 when they meet

Em feel terribly guilty to take Emmet place like that, he feel like an impostor, he shouldn't be there, he should be anywhere but THERE and the worse was that he couldn't say Emmet's family what happens...but it was what Emmet wanted right?

Ingo did see that his brother was out of character (except it wasn't his twin at all but Em) He knew something was up and he wanted to confront him about it, Sadly, Ingo didn't have the chance to do so, because it is around this time that his parents died, after that it was just a big mess.

He did later suspects Em isn't Emmet (sometime around their journey as young trainers), but Chandelure who was a Litwick at this time, never acts that much different with Em around, so as much as he wants an explanation, he decides to wait for Em to come forward and tell him the truth, Em never told him the truth….until it was too late.

The twins end up living with their uncle Drayden after their parents death.

Ingo's Litwick and (specially) Emmet's Tynamo knows what is going on with Em compared to most of the twin's Pokémons, who weren't there before the Pokemon journey, They all thought that Em was always a Zorua, and got used to it pretty fast.

Litwick was not happy with Em but it's Tynamo who explain to her what exactly happens, and even if he himself not happy with the situation, he can't really denied what Emmet asked Em to do?

The advantage to be a pokemon is that Em can talk with other pokemon, very useful for a lot of things.

For the first few years of being Emmet, Em was not at his best, but after the twins started their journey and encountered Elesa, he was (sort of) more comfortable with himself.

Em hate pun, Emmet disliked them but he was otherwise fine with them, Em hate them so much that Elesa and Ingo decide to humor him with doing a lot of pun.

Em evolved into a Zoroark around the sixth badges.

After the Pokemon journey, the twins and Elesa pretty much worked a lot to become Subway Boss and Gym leader respectively, It was pretty much by luck that Elesa opened her gym at Nimbasa city.

Em is a menace who likes to prank people, even as a Subway Boss.

Ingo is the principal victim of the prank

Em avoid talking too much because as much as he is good with his illusions, he has difficulty with small details like teeth and his eyes sometimes (in very bad days he has a lot more Zoroark attributes than usual, he has found a way to hide them but it still very annoying), that mostly why he start to be very blunt and direct, a bit more than Emmet used to be, in hope that people will not see his imperfection of his disguise.

Yes, N was very confused about Em when he realized that he was a Zoroark, He did not want to think about it.

Em sometime wish he could be the pokemon who fight and not the trainer, it's fine he can cope with that.

Ingo disappeared one day, and Em was with him when it happens, He knew that this kidnapping was Pokemon related pretty quickly.

He passed the last 2 years trying to find Ingo and get him home, For that he had to discover what took him precisely and the Pokemon who was responsible, where and when Ingo could be, find a way to contact the Pokemon or a Pokemon who could help him, prepare himself for the worse scenario, all of that while having the police behind his back because he is the only suspect, having to take care of the Gear station while trying to not having any of their family involved in his plan to get Ingo back, very complicated when they are all worry about him.

He had to fist fight Arceus when he was able to contact them, because he needed to prove himself to get their help....he won.

He got yeeted to Hisui without any of his or Ingo's Pokemon.

I going to stop here for the Pre-Hisui fact but yeah there is probably a lot to talk about for this AU XD

[ratbastarddotfuck]

So today an all ages drag event at the pride center in my city (Melbourne Aus) was cancelled due to threats from nazi groups like the proud boys. The community had been gearing up to counterprotest and drown them out, but at the end of the day the risk was deemed not worth it to all those queer kids and the event was cancelled.

This is fucking horrifying to me on a very personal level. This is the third such incident that I've been aware of in my city in recent months - the first was an event that I was a vendor at, a youth pride at a library, where fash protested at the doors. The second was across the road from my house, at a festival that just happened to include a drag performance, where nazis showed up and screamed from the sidelines. This third time, the event was cancelled before the threat could become tangible, and it was directed at our actual community pride center.

That community center is my home. I am there every single month as a vendor at the long-established queer markets. I am going to be there even more, soon, to join the queer community radio and broadcast station as a volunteer and podcaster. People I love are there every day. My community is there every day. The people who work there are all community members. They're people who survived the aids crisis. They're 40 year old trans women. They're 20 year old queers getting involved in activism for the first time. They are people I know, and people I don't know but consider my family anyway. I feel so much at home when I'm in this space, surrounded by my people.

All of these people, all the years of community resources that have been built for us, all of this is under incredible threat right now. Not just in my city. The rise of facism is trying to strangle us out. We can not let this happen.

What can I do?

- Get connected to your local queer community. This will be more relevant for big city areas, but don't discount the power of rural queer groups! Go on Facebook (yes, Facebook) and search for "[city] [trans/queer/bi/etc]" and see what pops up. For example I am in Melbourne trans fam, Melbourne bi network, melbourne aces+, Australian nonbinary community etc groups. Many of these groups will have discord servers as well. Connect. Converse. Make friends and find out what is happening around you. This is the one thing Facebook is great for. Go to events, follow local artists, stay connected. You will hear about it if something like this is going down. You will be given ways to help.

- Learn self defence. I cannot stress enough that you should try to learn at least a few self defence techniques in times like this, especially if you are visibly trans/queer.

- Do not go looking for a fight. If you're going to an event where there is risk, don't try to antagonise nazis. Stay away, travel in groups, and stay aware. Don't let them ruin your fun, but don't lose track of your surroundings. Stay safe.

These are just the things that I can think of right now. The most important thing is staying connected and knowing what's happening in the community around you. We need to protect ourselves by protecting each other, and we need to stand firm. Our family is hurting. We need to protect it.

[opossumonashelf]

More of these lets goooooooo!

I like to think that they work within a station within the dreamscape, just floating there like the observatory from super mario galaxy. It would function just like a station. This allows those who live in the dreamscape to travel across it but also makes it easy to to move dreams across the starry void so they can reach their assigned destination and dreamer.

I can try my best to describe it, its much like grand central station in New York with some aspects of Liège-Guillemins Railway Station, Toledo Metro Station and maybe a few others. Eventually ill need to try and draw it but I'm not all that good with buildings. Now a nice aspect is that there a large windows with these light blue curtains the view out into the dreamscape and an ivory colored marble floor. There really isn't ceiling lights but there are these floating star like lamps, that will float around the station, what I can say is that there are thousands of them, but also some dreamscape pokemon do roam around the station even some reagular pokemon that exist there too.

Some of these pokemon include but are not limited too:

Munna Musharna Drowsee Hypno Cleffa Clefairy Clefable A dreamscape form of Absol A dreamscape form of Litwik and its evos Now about how they are chosen, I ruled it out as a family thing or you must study for it, now Emmet and Ingo aren't the only ones with the job in the au there are other stations. Yes Gear Station is STILL Gear Station in this AU but there are a few others.

-Axel Station -Turnpike Station -Mist Station -[Error] <Avoid at all costs> ... the overtaken station...

But enough about that, the twins received the job from their parents, who are still alive. Since their parents retired to take on a lighter less stressful job, the twins where given the job to protect the dreamscape and dreamers. Now it is possible to leave/lose the job, one of them being to retire.

Now other then retiring it is also possible to be fired, yes there are higher ups and no they dont get blasted into the dreamscape space void like my favorite horror game. Nope they are just fired if they dont do the job well, and if the replacements are any better they will get new new replacements and if they are lucky the orignals can be hired back. Sounds confusing but it is super simple. Well thats all I could yap about tonight so until next time!.