#thybrid writes

Warnings: possessive behavior, fire, burning, threats of burning, mild violence, tears 

“Y-You–“ His eyes narrow at the blond, flame hairflickering slightly. “You really– you haven’t paid attention at al! Damn You!!”his hair flares, the mechanic screaming at him. Lightning flashing, staticraising in the air, prickling over his bones and suit. His own hands curl, aroaring in his skull as he looms. Raising up off the ground, higher and morethreatening over the blond who glares,challenging up at him. “You expect me– You– You–“

In the magenta light of his flames he can see a shine, thefaintest glimmer at the edge of Arthur’s eyes. But that hardly matters, as hetilts his skull back, looking down on him.

“You’re clearly not yourself! The Arthur I know…” hepauses, watching Arthur grit his teeth, mismatched hands curling. The littlewhirr of gears and parts, the click of metal connecting. And he glares straightback down at him. “Then again– That you would never push me off a cliffeither– but I was wrong!” and it allrushes back, smothering and engulfing, that roar in his ears becoming a howl offlames. Arthur barely has a chance to let out a gasp as his hand snapsforwards.

A fistful of that white shirt, he hoists the mechanic up,eyes glaring, burning into those wide, wide amber ones.

“You! You have no idea! None!” he snarls, dragging himforwards, smoke wafting up faintly from the fisted material. Ignoring the littlewhimper, the shine of those unshed tears. The heat is nothing to him, nothingas he sneers. “The hell– hell that you putme through, when you murdered me!”

It flashes, that moment. The cave, the fall, the pain, red,red, no, they can’t– He closes hiseyes, for a moment his grip slackening. Before it tightens again and he swingsArthur around. Tossing him to the wall. Ignoring his cry of pain, only shakinghis head and letting out a small sigh. Really, now, he raises his head.

“But we can put all that behind us… right– Mi Ratoncito”

He floats forwards, fire slowly simmering down as he lands,and Arthur looks up at him. Trembling, shirt singed and oh– his eyes shadeover, and he kneels down, ignoring that flinch and whimper as his hand reachesforwards to trace it, a frown crossing his face as he flickers back to normal.

Lewis– human Lewis…

“Oh look at what you made me do Ratoncito–“ he sighs,shaking his head. “Well, we’ll just have to get you a new one, and you know notto–“

“GET AWAY FROM ME!” He jerks back, feeling the slap but that’snot what stings. “Y-you’re not Lewis! You–You’re nothing– nothing but–“ Arthur hiccups stumbling back, wet trailsstaining his cheeks. Quickly drying in the next flare of magenta flame. A whooshas again his form is engulfed.

The fire burns around them.

And he casts his shadow down on the mechanic glaring.Challenging him right back. Arthur grits his teeth, glares up through tears andshakes his head.

“You’re a monster!”

“You’re right…” he muses, for a moment raising one blackgloved and white plated hand up. “A monster– The monster you made me!” he points and Arthur runs. Now that won’t do. With asnap of his fingers his mansion reacts to his will. This whole building, theplace they stand is his. He laughs asArthur’s put on a treadmill. “You can run and run Kingsmen– But you can’tescape judgement!” he sneers, floating over, and catching him.

The paintings around them shift, glaring as his beats pickup the haunting melody. He tilts Arthur’s chin up, those tears shining in thereflected magenta light.

“You can run and run!” he repeats, curling him close. Graspon the blond tight, able to feel tears beginning to stain his nice finemidnight purple suit. “But I refuseto let you go!” Not until judgement was cast. And truly–

“Listen! No, really listen. We need a break right?”

Sometimes, a break is all that’s needed. And quite often, that break will be in the level of seriousness around the department floor. And it starts with a binge night, before everyone seems to collectively try their best to be as ridiculous as possible while still doing their jobs.

Officers in clown uniforms, a unicycle and running literally up the walls to settle for a moment or even-- to some of those they’re trying to interview.

“Let me play you the world’s smallest--“

“Is this a meme?”

“Ahhhhhhhh” and even an officer rolling around on heelies and it’s chaos. Organized chaos, but still chaos. Which doesn’t even stop when he comes home and his husband is getting up to some antics of his own. Dramatically falling down and--

He can’t help it.

“Oh no!” he gasps, one hand up to his mouth. “This is so sad! Siri play Imogen Heap’s Hide and Seek”

Mhmm Whatcha Say

Only for his husband to snap up and hold a bubble gun to him and-- now it’s his turn to dramatically fall down to the song. Before they’re all laughing, his husband’s friends stepping in, wondering-- and it’s like a chain.

So they let out small annoyed squeaks as again the pup is rejected from the Rivera Colony. It’s not fair, can’t they see the damage that it’s doing? But they can’t do anything more than let out their squeaks and roost on the back of his hat, glaring at the Rivera residence as it fades into the distance.

They can’t do anything.

So they merely roost and make small grumpy sounds as their person makes his way down into the Shantytown. They can feel the rocks in his bones, the tremble that shakes their world until he’s eventually stumbling into this colonies residence and roosting for himself, curling up into one of those hammocks and looking out distantly towards the water.

Towards the lands unseen.

Sometimes they wonder, wishing that they had some way to guide their pup of a skeleton over the sea and through the void. Taking the unseen paths and leading him to a land where he wouldn’t have to be rejected by his colony. It’s a nice thought.

Impressive, truly. And they let out a small squeak, comforting themself with that. They’re a good alebrije. It’s not their fault that the world is unfair.

So all they can do is offer their own small comfort.

Taking off into the air and flipping around, letting out small excited squeaks and trying to encourage their skeleton pup to hop up and do something. No reason to slump down and mope, even in the face of being turned away again.

There’s a pause, the man’s eyes resting on them almost blank for a moment before a small smile crosses his face.

A hand stretches out and they roost upside down hanging from it and staring at him.

“Gracias Pizzicato!” the skeleton says and they let out another chirpy squeak, wrapping their wings around tighter as footsteps approach. A voice calling for their primo. They release themself, flapping in the air and hovering by his head as he takes a breath.

Shaking himself off, he grins, and they land on his hat, roosting their.

There’s always next time.

Always next time.

There’s a chill on the breeze and their ears and ear-wings twitch. A small sniff of the air, a bark of echolocation, and there’s a shuddery feeling. Amber-gold flickering and they let out a startled frantic squeak, releasing themself from their roost and circling their skeleton pup’s head.

“Primo?”

“I’m okay!” he stands up, slowly, movements stilted and they can hear the lie. But all they can do is roost. Roost and hope, because they have a plan for this Dia de Muertos. They have a plan, but still.

There’s a heavy tiredness in them after that flicker as well, and they find themself needing to curl up.

There’s always going to be a tomorrow.

Always.

They close their eyes and let the cheerful greetings and chatter surround them and their pup in the colony. Pretending that there’s no worry about fading and losing themselves before that date. Tomorrow will always come.

Hands fumble for only a few moments, pushing his dresses to the side and pulling out the suit in the back. Brushing hands almost gently over the material, and rubbing it between his phalanges. A dreamy smile crossing his face.

He pulls it on, and finds his brush. Properly taming his hair, and reaching to the glass at the side of his table. A sunflower, he pulls it up, and winds it into his hair, and takes a breath. Today is going to be a good day. It's a special day, an important day. He smiles, and makes his way through his morning routine.

Straightening the small things on his way through the house and settling down for an easy breakfast.

And once he's done, he locks his house after him, and sets off for his shop. It's a peaceful walk, only interrupted in one moment by a small squeaking sound that joins him.

"Rafael!" he smiles, pausing for a moment, letting the small squeaking frog catch up to him. He kneels down, letting the crowd part around them, before lifting the amphibian up to his shoulder and continuing. It's an easy walk, rather pleasant as no one bothers him, and they all walk around him. Leaving him a clear path.

There's such a mixture of floral scents as he arrives at his shop. An overwhelming aroma and array of flowers that he smiles. Just pausing in the front, and not even stepping forwards. Ribcage swelling with pride and awe and-

"Hola Alma!" the cheerful cry sends and jolt through him, and he turns, a frown tight on his face.

"You're not getting another shovel Héctor." he says, and the younger man shifts, a nervous awkward chuckle filling the space between them. There's a small angry squeak from the frog on his shoulder and he huffs. Rolling his eyes in their sockets and unlocking the door to the shop.

Héctor follows him in, footsteps light over the tiled floor and he frowns. Wondering why he's here.

"I was just wondering, considering what today is..." the other shifts again, and he pauses, trying to think what Héctor could possibly have known about the day. It's not like they interact much and he knows it's not his birthday. "Did you want help with the anniversary sale?"

Oh.

Oh! He turns back to the younger man, and considers the question. Considers him. There's an awkward pause and a smile spreads out across his face, a smile that he can tell pulls a relieved sigh from Héctor.

"Of course, Héctor. But you're still not getting another shovel!"

There's a laugh, and he knows that the younger man is rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. He shakes his head, bemusement spreading over his features before he just waves Héctor to the till, and reminds him that all he needs to really do is smile.

There's a card in the back.

One that he'd gotten José to help him create. And he wanders back, gently tracing the letters carved into the material. He shakes his head.

The day passes relatively quietly.

There're only a few extra people who come in. Taking advantage of the sale, and he listens adjusting the flowers in the back as Héctor offers some surprisingly accurate gardening advice. Offering simple tips that would help, it's nice. And by the end of the day, he's settled himself in and listens as the former musician lets out a small distant hum.

Something absent.

He lets out a breath, stands and moves over to the man, and ruffles his hair, to a yelp. A small exclamation, before he closes his eyes.

"I thought you had forgotten." he says softly and the younger man makes a sound as he proceeds to the front to finish a final sweep and close off.

"Me, forget, something like this?" Héctor shifts, leaning over the desk he's sure. "No, I... You said it was an important date for you. Can't believe you kept it going for all these years huh. And... mostly on your own."

"Gracias Héctor..." he flips the sign, and takes down the anniversary sale one. His hands curl on the wood, and for a moment it's like standing in his old shop, the one back home, from before. He takes another shaky breath.

"Is there anything else I could help you with Alma?"

"No... it is fine Héctor." he says, smiling. "You can go home now."

"Alright, if you're-" Héctor cuts himself off, springing to his feet so suddenly, he pulls back. Away from the younger man. "Wait, wait, wait, wait! I almost forgot!" he feels Héctor sweep by him, the younger man racing off, before springing back. Something is held out to him and he furrows his brow, confused. "I wasn't sure but..."

He reaches out slowly, and his eyes widen.

"Is this?"

"Sí, I remember that you mentioned that you were curious about the series so... I called in a few favours..."

"Gracias Héctor!" he accepts the book, phalanges running over the braille on the cover and smiles. "I appreciate it."

"I can get you the rest customized as well... if you want..."

"Maybe later" he says, curling the book close to him. A soft smile spreading out. "For now this is enough."

"Alright! I'll see you later Alma! Have a nice evening." Héctor's off with a jaunty cheer and he can only smile. Expression soft as he runs his fingers over the cover again. More surprised than anything else that Héctor would go to such trouble.

He's still not going to ever get another shovel from him.

Something that rings out and resonates with him, and as he watches the band perform he feels his chest swell. There’s this certainty, this knowledge that one day he’ll be the one up there in the middle of the plaza performing for all these people. He’ll be the one stealing the hearts of the crowd and receiving their cheers and adoration.

Just like his great-great grandfather.

He taps a foot to the beat of the music, swaying slightly before he notices something out of the corner of his eye.

It’s that other boy.

The Rivera boy. Staring in awe at the stage and the musicians, holding a poster in his hands. The boy shakes himself off, goes to one of those managing the event and he can hear the kid ask his question. There’s a flare through him, sheer offence.

How dare that younger boy think he could perform well enough to play in this competition.

He’s just a shoemaker’s boy.

From a family that hates music.

But he watches with satisfaction as the boy runs around and can’t get one. He stays for only a little longer to listen to the music, swaying in place before there’s an odd twist. A frown and he looks to the side thinking for a moment and just wondering. He wonders what made the Rivera boy think that he could play.

That he could enter this competition.

So he slips through the crowd. Searching for the boy. He finds him curled up slightly under the statue that defines the town. The one that’s of his relative. He watches, and can see the younger boy’s mouth moving, saying word’s that he’s not close enough to hear. Abruptly the younger boy gets up, a smirk on his face, and there’s a rush of something.

Some kind of jolt, a lure.

So he follows after the younger boy. Creeping through the crowd and there’s a realization. He ducks himself down, edging around the crowd for himself and looks the younger boy’s way. Watching him approach the memorial.

“Oh, this is gonna be so much fun!” he gleefully cackles to himself as the younger boy gives a quick glance around and rattles the window. There’s a burst, a pop of sound. He turns, smiling at the flashes in the air. The fireworks.

He bounces for a moment on the spot, excitedly focusing his gaze up into the sky and on those bright flares of colour in the distance. A grin spreads easily and quickly over his face and he just watches as they burst in the sky. Lighting up the night time.

It takes him another burst, and a distant clatter beneath them before he remembers himself.

Remembers what he’s doing. And he spins back around. Just in time to see the Rivera boy disappear into the Memorial. A vicious grin slides over his face as the boy does and he strolls down easily, moving to the window to peer in and watch as the boy gazes with a focus at the guitar. Lightly stepping forwards and moving towards the instrument.

So the little shoemaker’s boy wants to play does he?

Well he’s the one who’s breaking in. Doing the wrong thing, and it’s only right that he get a reminder of that. So he turns around, takes a breath and runs off. He runs around the memorial and finds the nearby patrolman.

“Señor! Señor!” he calls getting the man to turn around. “I was by the Ernesto De la Cruz memorial earlier, and the window! It appeared as if someone had broken in!” he claims, dramatically pressing a hand to his chest and looking at the officer. “I saw a young boy there earlier, gazing longingly at the guitar... do you possibly think?”

“Oh!” the man jolts, standing straighter. “Gracias Marco. I’ll check it out right away!”

“Oh, gracias señor!” he says, pressing his hands together and watching as the man wanders away. He lets a smirk cover his face, turns away and-

There’s a distant strum of a guitar and something seems to ripple through the air, an odd feeling. He shakes it off, and returns to the plaza.

She perks up, eyes lighting up and she races in that direction. Calling again for her brother, turning the next corner she stops. Nobody is there. She looks around, down the hall one way, back the other before huffing. No one.

She puffs up her cheeks, turns around and gets ready to just leave before pausing. She tilts her head, able to distantly hear something.

Distantly heard voices.

She turns again, letting out a small sound and her eyes search. Another flicker of some kind of movement.

“Miguel?” her voice is lower now, and she steps forwards. A creeping sense of something wrong prickling at her back. She puts a hand on the wall and creeps down, brow furrowing and lip trembling. The voices are strange, hushed, trying to go unnoticed. She wants to call for her brother again, but something is wrong.

Something is wrong.

There’s a flicker, a marigold glow for a mere moment. She pauses, eyes caught by the glow and she looks around.

A small swallow, and she wants to turn around, call for her brother and keep searching the other halls for him. Or maybe she’d go back down the hall she’d come from. But when she turns all she sees is the same. It’s the same both ways. All these halls are the same.

Distantly she can still hear those voices. Words not able to be heard though. She takes a breath, eyes watering up slightly as she realizes that she’s not sure which way she came from. She turned a corner right? Right, or left, the close one, or the far one? She lets out a small sniff, rubbing at one cheek.

Before pausing.

There’re footsteps, another flicker of a marigold glow.

She wants to find her brother. So she takes a deep breath, pulls herself tighter, and steps forwards around the corner. She tilts her head, still not able to see anyone, but those voices are louder. So she follows after them, none of them are familiar, she doesn’t know these voices. And that makes her feel funny, a weird bubbling in her tummy. But she still follows them.

Steps light down the halls.

Slowly the words seem to come together and make sense. She can understand them, it sounds like there’s a group of people talking about some kind of performance. That makes her perk up, her brother’s in a performance, maybe it’s the same one. Although these people sound somewhat worried, voices lower and kind of harsh.

But that’s a familiar treading of territory.

So she moves a little bit faster, eager to see these people, sure that she can ask them where her brother is.

“Just be sure to get it right this time!” she pulls up short at the angry burst. Something in the tone catching her. “We won’t have any more chances after this...”

“I know, I know, but, do we really have to resort to this?”

“You want that opportunity don’t you?” she creeps forwards, mouth drawing into a line, something feels really funny and off. “Remember. You have to remember. This might be your only chance!” She steps just slightly around the next corner, peering. There’s a group of at least four people, two of them focusing on their instruments, adjusting them.

She frowns for a moment, eyes drawn to the musical equipment before there’s a sigh and she looks at the two in the middle.

“I- sí. I understand. But are you sure-“

“Por favor Christián! Do you have to be so hesitant about this? All you need to do is go out there and absolutely capture that crowd. And we’ll do the rest back here behind the scenes! Worry about your music! Alright?”

“I...” the more reluctant man, Christián looks away from the larger man for a moment, eyes seeing her, and there’s a slight widening as she tilts her head. “I... who’s kid is that?”

“Hola!” she offers with a small wave. She takes a deep breath stepping out and that catches everyone’s attention. She sniffs, a bit unsure. “Have you seen mi hermano? I want to wish him luck for his performance today!” she says, lip trembling.

“Your hermano?” Christián steps around his companion and the others in the background frown, while she nods her head.

“Sí, mi hermano.” she says, eyes darting slightly, peering around, and that’s when she thinks that she recognizes someone else from around Santa Cecilia. “Marco!” she moves around Christián, eagerly moving around to stand in front of the blue dressed Mariachi. “I didn’t know you were here! Are you performing?”

“Sí Socorro, with the guys here.” he says, awkwardly plastering a smile on his face. “Oi! This is Socorro! Miguel’s hermanita! We should introduce ourselves.” he cheerfully gestures. “And afterwards, we should get you back to the Riveras. Wouldn’t want a fiasco like that one from a few years back again huh?” she giggles.

Smiling.

“No!” she claps her hands, and the other band members move forwards, ready to introduce themselves. But she still sees how the forth person pulls back, something in those eyes that she can barely catch before he’s leaving. And she just shakes her head, and happily asks them what they’re planning on performing.