#I can’t even put tumblr links in the desc anymore | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

the-moon-files · 3 months

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Man, I love the trope of aliens being terrified of humans, and I've seen some fics of human!reader reacting differently to stuff like posions/plants in hyrule, but this is in another level! We are indestructible! I mean, I could live on Death Mountain! With the Gorons! It's literally a dream come true!

Also, the urge this would give me to give them all the hugs and piggy back rides whenever it gets cold/windy/whatever extreme condition.

If Hylians would be surprisingly light, would they be light enough for me to pick up Time? Just get that big ass man with a bunch of armor on my back? Because new need unlocked.

NEW NEED UNLOCKED INDEEEEDDD. (touches my fingertips together like a villain up to no good)

CREDIT FOUND!! (Who did it first!):

IDK who it was but someone mentioned in a rlly old 2023-2022? LU x human reader post abt the hylians being lighter in comparison to humans!! If i find who it is, or if u recognize u wrote abt smth similar pls leave a comment so I can @ you!! /gen

@wayfayrr :D ive been in humans are space orcs fandom (is it a fandom? More like endless AU idea ppl wrote abt on tumblr) for Years, and ofc i never thought to put with Loz this past year or 2 getting into this fandom dammit - UR WORKS AMAZING THANK YOU SM FOR MERGING MY 2 FAVS AND LIKING/REBLOGGING THIS HOT MESS 😭😭

GOD i NEED to play TP bc u can hold cats like this?? and u get to see LINK do it??? 😭😭

Sun: technically Masc! Reader but not explicit (you/he/him), coule be Gender Neutral, Human Reader

Orbit: headcanons-ish

Stars: The Classic Chain of Links

Comets & Meteors: Content: in Four’s desc. mentioned “diving into chest”, & Triggers: none known.

Please comment if I missed any. /gen

☆

A kinda 2nd part/expansion to this post!

no bc the “i can live wherever tf i want” was secretly part of why i wrote that post (so sue me, i wanna be able to follow wild around his hyrule w/o getting nuked)

OMFG SO GLAD SOMEONE WANTS TO TALK ABT HOW AFFECTIONATE YOU’D GET BC OF THIS TOWARDS THE LINKS (anduseitasanexcusehahai mean what? whatd i say??)

There’s only 2 types of Links in this hyrule(s):

Who’s already down with being cuddled at the slightest/not so slightest inconvenience??:

Wild

(unsurprisingly, also if anyone teases him he just teases right back that not only is it “for survival”, but also look he’s “getting Guide Cuddles™️ and You’re Not” lmao,

would sleep right up against ur bedroll every night if u let him, likes when you commit to the cuddle (even if he goes a little red), like wrapping arms + legs around him, adores fireside cuddles, has said on multiple occasions that nothing makes him feel safer than holding onto you, and how he can’t go back to doing things like this on his own anymore 😭😭😭

his favorite cuddle is whatever you give him LMAO u can always count on Wild if your ever feeling like u need to cuddle smth blonde and cute lol - he constantly offers or initiates it himself <33 )

Sky

another unsurprising one, his favorite time to cuddle is when it’s cold outside, or windy, and he can just get under a blanket and take a nap with you,

esp if it’s both and he can convince you to lay partially on him for heated + weighted human blanket purposes, he’s literally staring at you with sparkles in his eyes as soon as a breeze goes by lol

his Loftwing/Crimson wasn’t rlly able to fly u long distances u find out!! :( Hylians are just so light that ofc that explains why they can ride these pelican/ostrich creations for hours, whereas the bird can only rlly manage 20 minutes of low flying with you (+ Sky) on its back, but that’s fine, bc u figured out how to “shield surf” rlly fast down slopes to keep up with Sky flying low, and by “shield surfing” i mean, shocking Wild into jaw-dropped silence as he watches you fly by completely barefoot 👍

(after all, ur skin has to be pretty tough/thick to be able to handle the weather/environmental conditions, and finding out u can withstand lava? yeah this is nothing turns out)

secretly loves piggyback rides, but never asks, u just see him get this look in his eyes, and shuffling in place just behind you lol

Wind

touch starved, but what Link isnt lol

his favorite is piggyback rides, since he was raised by his grandma, and there weren’t a whole lot of close, young adults to pick him up as a kid

so now, he takes FULL advantage of u being able to easily pick him up lol

one time u guys were going uphill while a pleasant breeze was blowing-

actually it was gale force winds.

but ur you, so it took Wind flying backwards into you to realize. he also screeched at you for “ABANDONING ME- YOURE GONNA MAKE ME, A LITTLE GUY LIKE ME, CRAWL UP THIS?? HOW COULD YOU-” you give him piggy back rides whenever it’s windy.

will treat u like his own personal ship whenever ur both in the water, which consists of him yelling sailor terms like “turn starboard! raise the sails!” while sitting on ur shoulders while u get slammed (gently buffeted, really) by waves

Hyrule

shy, shy, shy, shy-

the quintessential:

“👉👈 🥺 is it okay, if we maybe hug rn?? I'm just rlly cold, and i know u said you didnt mind, and I saw Wild and Sky just laying on you, sorry if this is weird-”

Hyrule, sweets, you literally love him more than life itself, of course you’ll cuddle the fairy boy

the more excited he gets = the more likely to jump on ur back/wrap his arms around ur waist happily, esp since he’s an extra cutie patootie and will subconsciously seek u out if the environment gets a little rough

Sets an Amazing example for the other Links, not too clingy when ur busy, great at latching onto ur back when things get tough for him, asks politely and thanks you everytime he gets down <3

Hyrule is eternally fascinated by whatever u do, u just walk thru flood waters like it’s nothing and while the rest are used to it by now, he’s the only Link looking at you like your some kind of god 💗💘💖💕🙈

accidentally squeezed ur arm muscles one time when he saw u doing that thing where u curl ur arm and Wind/Wild were able to hang off of it,

you both just stared at each other for a solid minute before his ears turned down and he went completely red and apologized profusely for 5 minutes, before you just scooped him up too lmao (his face after tho)

Four

depending on the cuddle he gets shy sometimes, even worse if more than 1 Link is looking at you two, in which he will attempt to escape ur arms.

keyword being attempt.

you just wrap ur legs around him and trap him instead lol

likes to cuddle you somehow where he’s not in the way but you can keep doing whatever it is you were busy with

if he splits, then u can fucking bet Red is the first to dive into ur chest- unless there is literally, actively, a threat right in front of him, he’s going for it lol, Green loves to wrap his arms around one of yours and just hang off u all day, Blue will wait until ur sitting somewhere and flop on ur legs to purposely trap u there, the little shit, and Vio just likes hugs. he’s such a sweetheart, he just loves being wrapped up and wrapping you up 🥺

And who must be Convinced. (most to least)

Legend

fully expected,

silly man thinks he’s above love and cuddles, and all the good things in life LMAO came for ur throat again

it'll be below-freezing temperatures, in a cave with a barely there campfire, a blizzard outside, the other heroes complaining at him to just get under the blanket so you’ll get under the blanket,

bc you two are just doing that thing where 2 characters have like a table between them and are fake-out dodging left and right to try and catch the other lmao

is most susceptible to cuddles when he’s tired/injured/sick/sleepy.

it’s a cold morning and u just scootch the Links into a pile and use him as a pillow lol, and as long as no one, not even gods, perceives you two, he’ll let you stay

ok but you definitely caught him from falling into lava one time while on Death Mountain, and had to bridal carry him across half a lava lake back to shore, hehe,

Legend swore everyone there to secrecy on their own graves and favorite items

also refuses to let Ravio know of ur human advantages lol

he just wants the attention on himself as much as he can in between the other Links, no need for more competition

Time

silly man just doesn't think of his needs including affection/emotional comfort,

he only rlly initiates when the circumstances are dire, like gale force winds that he can barely walk thru/starting to slip, desert heat getting to him thru his armor and needs ur cooling touch, etc.

he keeps it as professional as he can, like wrapping an arm around ur shoulders, but you just snatch him by the waist and pick him up half the time, was surprised at first, chain giggled at him, then complained lightly, finally just accepted his fate anytime he touches you lol,

YES you have given him a piggyback ride, when a flood of water burst a dam during a battle/the other Links got out but Time didn't bc of his heavy armor,

so u yoink him up and just stood ur ground against the raging waves and climbed a rock until u weren't submerged anymore, poor guy was so worn out from the battle + the flood that he just let you carry him all the way until u camped for the night, and secretly took a nap 😭

like Legend he can be convinced to rely on u when he’s already vulnerable like sleepy/tired/injured/sick, but he does find himself secretly appreciative someone in the group can just lift his heavy ass in full armor/or someone else if it gets bad enough,

got converted and no longer has to be convinced usually, he just doesn't initiate much so u have to lol

Warriors

YET ANOTHER SILLY MAN!!

whats with all these idiots neglecting themselves, both physically and emotionally??

like boy u cant stand the heat of a desert or blizzard, just let in the cuddles 👹

similar to Time, just more vocal abt how appreciative/advantageous it is to have someone to be able to carry comrades out of harsh conditions or battles easily.

Did Not think abt this applying to himself until you literally swept him off his feet like a classic damsel in distress- mans let out a shriek after taking a second to process everything LMAO-

Loudly and Dramatically complains abt u coming to cuddle him, both just to love on him, and to heat him up in a rainstorm, but hugs you back and holds onto you anyway hehe.

Became the 2nd person to find out you’re immune to lightning.

See, everyone heard Legend talk abt u getting struck in a storm in Wild’s hyrule, but no one really came to full terms with it bc they didn't see it. Warrior is now a full believer. He actually got the closest to pissing his armor he ever has in all of his battles bc he forgot abt the metal in the storm = bad idea, until it was too late and u guys were trying to retreat to regroup, bc there were too many black-bloods, only to get full body tackled by you to avoid getting hit by lightning.

You had to bridal carry him for a minute after bc u just got back up after being hit, (it just felt like you rubbed ur body on the carpet and touched a metal wall, like a full body small static shock) bc he was in such a state of literal horror/shock,

Wars saw your life flash before his eyes 💀

Twilight

HA HA HA- HE NEEDS THE LEAST AMOUNT OF CONVINCING LMAOOO

goofy wolf man has wolf instincts that help ur case as to Why You Need to Pet Twilight’s Hair and Hold His Hand at All Times if Possible.

main reason Twi’s here is bc he thinks his height + weight = him not needing u to hold onto/cuddle as much, and he would be proven wrong HA

actually gets all blushy/shy anytime u pick him up, freezes like a puppy who’s gotten scruffed too lol

likes a lot more casual touch/cuddles, like arm around ur shoulder or his, sitting with legs touching, leaning against u when he’s cold, etc.

omfg funniest thing abt Wars/Time/Twi is that they’re the tallest out of the Links, so they make for extra fun when picking them up, cuddling etc.

but the best thing ever happened one time when Twi was still recovering from the Shadow’s wound, it got reopened/ached so bad he couldn’t run, but u all were trying to retreat at the moment bc Big Boss,

and u just snatched him up into a piggyback ride, his legs comically sticking out, but the best part was that Hylians are light.

so you were able to run full tilt adrenaline powered run, to the point you surpassed the other Links ahead, and had everyone laughing and simultaneously trying to conserve their breath to keep running LMAO

Twi grew up tall/bigger than kids his age, and is another victim of “no adult figures to pick him up when he was younger”, so he gets this little giddy smile when u pick him up lol <3

the first time u put him in a bridal carry for smth like river rushing waters, mans blushed, stuttered abt smth the whole time, and then didnt let go after you tried to put him down, u didnt have the heart to insist, so u just carried him around half of the day 😭

☆

sorry some have less than others, its nearly 2am I'm just riffing kicking my feet and shit, so I'm not being very thorough

i hope u liked my spiral into blonde twink insanity (well theyre kinda on a spectrum of twinkness)

anyway goodnight, and have a great weekend!!

to the 2 other ppl who sent asks, ill get to you soon and thank you sm for sending stuff :’)

Please feel free to send asks for requests or just to chat :)

Peace out,

🌙

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luuxxart · 4 years

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well known fact , black eagles cant do math

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autumnslance · 4 years

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how do you get into roleplaying on a ff server? like how do you do it and how do you know if your character is lore compliant? ;A; pls youre a big inspo to me

*Hugs Nonny* Getting into RP on a FF server can vary; I don’t actually RP much these days, outside of some friends I already have connections to--and that in itself can be difficult just due to Life! It can take time, and patience, and some fits and starts.

And this gets...really really long, so buckle up and go below the cut, please. :)

The cut got broken by an edit. Sigh.

In game there’s always the RP status tag, and just doing RP with folks in public spaces. There may be trolls now and then, but they can be ignored. I personally find Balmung’s Quicksand area too busy and anxiety inducing and not actually all that conducive to actual RP, even “meet at a tavern” walk-up type. But unless you already have a ready-made group of friends/FCmates willing to RP more than some random walk-ups with you, it may take some legwork to find folks you can and want to write with.

Social Media There are a couple of RP community blogs, like @mooglemeet and @ffxiv-crystal-rp and plenty of server-specific ones. There’s also some Discords for these communities. They host and advertise events and reblog people who are looking for RP contacts. Some of them have running gdoc calendars and in game linkshells and fellowships as well.

Shofie has a good post about Tumblr/social media RP blogging.

@shofie-ffxiv

It’s a fact now that social media outside game is a way to make contacts, or even a medium for RP itself. There are few centralized websites/forums for server RP communities anymore. Making connections over your social media, like Tumblr and Twitter, can help find RP. You can’t just throw your own character info out there or reblog prompts hoping others bite, though; you have to put in some work and show interest in others, too. This can be difficult and even scary. That’s OK.

RP is about collaboration and creating with other people, which means finding folks you can write with, and who see you as someone interesting but also interested in them and their OCs. If you want to keep it a solo endeavor focused on your own OCs, write fanfic (which I’ve actually made friends and gotten RP interests that way too through comment interactions, so hey).

If you reblog a prompt from someone, see others on your dash reblogging prompts, if people reblog that prompt post from you? Send them asks! Alternatively, don’t wait for prompts, just send asks, comments, or chats saying hello and things you notice or like about their blog/character/posts they make. Try to form connections with people you think are genuinely interesting and might be fun to talk with. Social media should be, well, social.

BUT respect boundaries, too. Don’t try sarcasm or jokes with people you don’t actually know, it tends to go over poorly. Unless someone’s specifically posting a naughty meme/prompt, keep stuff you others send clean and polite, especially if it’s unsolicited and you’re not already friends (doubly so if you don’t know how old they are IRL, there are laws you do not want to break). Respect if people aren’t open to random asks or chatting with new followers, or say “no” to RP, and know it’s not personal--it’s just what they have time, energy, and emotional/mental capacity for. Don’t give up on other people, though. This stuff can take time and effort to find those you click with.

Respect and communication with RP partners is pretty key.

Do curate your feeds and don’t be afraid to unfollow/mute/block folks, either. I’m selective in who I follow and remove as needed, too, for my own mental health. I miss so much of the discourse and drama and that’s fine by me. Also it costs nothing to not step in on a lot of the drama when it does pass in sight.

Profiles I have static RP profile pages for my girls here on Tumblr (and a lot of other static links and pages, but I’m weird about organizing like that). This way, if people want to write with me, send me prompts, if I sent them prompts, or they want to otherwise interact with my characters, the information is handily available. For some folks, this makes all the difference in who they choose to interact with: how easily can they find even basic info about your OC?

Some people make Carrds. Some folks have gdoc links, or use Dreamwidth, etc. Just keep the links in the blog’s sidebar menu, and/or in the blog desc so people can see ‘em on mobile. There are templates out there, or you can make your own. Feel free to snag mine if you’d like. A lot of times people also copy their profiles to rebloggable posts when looking for RP contacts. Profiles are a good way to let folks know just the at-a-glance basics about your character(s).

I picked a simple theme with a simple layout that makes it easy to add and show off links. I put them in the blog desc to make them easy to find on mobile, too.

[Images: links from my blog sidebar menu showing how over organized I am]

RP, Stories, Lore Post some stories or RP logs (with permission of others involved) or even just random little blurbs and headcanons, as well as any screenshots, art, aesthetic posts for your OCs. Have something of interest to show for your character, too, so some of those folks your interacting with have something of their own to see and ask about!

If possible, try some light RP with friends and FC Mates who are amenable. Go to events, even if just to lurk at first. When you do get up the nerve to talk to people, don’t try to throw a character’s entire backstory at them, or try to steal the limelight--RP is collaboration, back and forth, and a lot like real conversation. Maybe come up with little light things to talk about if asked; a recent adventuring job, a silly shopping incident, etc. They can break the ice or just give you something to reply with for a few minutes.

Lore Compliance is Variable. Some people really want lore compliance, others are OK bending it here and there, while still others throw it out the window entirely. If you want to be super lore compliant...read. There’s a LOT of information, in game and out, for finding lore; from official publications and website material, to tools like Garland Tools site, to compilation blogs like @mirkemenagerie.

Note what’s important for your concept. Narrow it down. Characters aren’t going to know or be or do everything, so only worry about what’s necessary for the base idea. And be flexible; it’s SE’s sandbox, we just play in it, and they can change things any time. They usually do it in the guise of characters not knowing/having all the correct information, at least, but also some places just don’t exist in game yet so we don’t have info.

I’m unspecific about a lot of elements of Aeryn’s childhood, for instance, other than “traveling merchants near Thavnair.” I don’t have to be super specific. I can keep most details vague, and focus on her family and those relationships.

Dark, as my first character, has a fairly simple backstory that I’ve expanded on and adjusted over time as I learned and came up with new info. I also bet no one remembers I originally said Dark was from the North Shroud. I’ve changed things (now from East Shroud, due to the proximity to Gyr Abania and its Hellsguards) as I learned more about the world and my character. You don’t want to change things willy-nilly, but sometimes being flexible and smoothing down some rough edges and making small changes can be fine, especially as one gets more lore over time.

Iyna has a pretty detailed backstory, that came from a basic idea, and checking dates in the pre-Calamity timeline. I based her being taken and trained the way she was not only on what info we have about Garlemald’s imperial practices with conquered provinces, but borrowed a bit from real life and the re-education schools many Native Americans were forced into (though I haven’t gone into detail on that yet, either). I tied the turning point in Iyna’s life to a major event that wasn’t the Calamity, and have left plenty of space in between for me to fill in as time goes on and I learn more about her and the world.

The world isn’t static, and is bigger and more diverse than what can be shown in the game. There’s space in the margins for plenty of weird stuff and contradictions or unusual cases. So read up on what you can, ask questions, and then find where in those spaces your OC fits. Then, find people who enjoy similar tastes in lore compliance (or non-compliance), and who enjoy playing with you and your OCs, and not worrying about the rest. Can’t please everyone, nor get along with everyone, so don’t try; just find what works for you, and who works with you, and don’t police anyone else’s pretendy fun times, either.

There’s no magic answer on the “right” amount of lore compliance, or how to quickly and easily find RP partners or break into the broader RP community.

I hope this helps at least a little bit! Good luck in finding your niche for RP, and maybe I’ll see you sometime at an event :)

#roleplay #blogging #writing #social media #long post #nonny got me thinking #some links #hope this helps?#Anonymous

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bcdrawsandwrites · 6 years

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Next entry for @badthingshappenbingo !

Reminder that I am still accepting prompts for this! Check out my initial post for the guidelines. Also note the current bingo card on this post–the things I mark with crossbones are completed prompts, and ones with a single bone are ones that have been requested, but not written yet.

(Fics are also posted to AO3 and FFN, but please just use the links in my blog desc to get to those ‘cuz I’m too tired to make links for them.)

Aaand here’s our next prompt, submitted by BookwormGal (who does not have a Tumblr). Beware, this one gets a bit... brutal.

Prompt: Setting a Broken Bone Characters: Héctor, Chicharrón

A metallic groan filled the air, waking Héctor up from his daze. He wasn’t sure what time it was, or even what day it was, but he was very quickly aware of the overwhelming pain in his leg. In the dim light of the holding cell, he could see the scotch tape barely clinging to the two broken portions of his left tibia, the larger bone in his lower leg—the tape had lost most of its adhesiveness a day or so ago, and he was frankly amazed it had lasted this long. With a tired moan, he turned in his cot, trying to shift the broken leg to a more comfortable position, only to belatedly realize why that was a bad idea. The two broken ends scraped against each other, and his voice pitched up into a shriek that quickly tapered off.

He’d done quite enough screaming over the past few… days, or however long it had been since Dia de Muertos.

Not long enough, given he wouldn’t be able to try again until next year. Ay.

Past the heavy cell door, he could hear hushed voices, followed by a faint clinking. It was too hard to think past the pain, so he thought nothing of it until the door creaked open.

Lifting himself up on his elbow, he blinked at the two guards who stared down at him. They were looking from his face and back to his injured leg, the older one of them frowning and the younger one wincing. The first leaned over to his partner, trying to whisper to her, but Héctor caught what he was saying anyway: “You see what I mean?”

“Hola,” Héctor said, forcing a tired smile. “Can I help you, señor y señora?”

“Uh… no,” the younger guard said, glancing away briefly. “We’re just here to tell you that you’re free to go.”

“…Go? Right now?” He reached up to scratch his dirty wig, eyes narrowing as he tried to think past the fog of pain. Had it really been… a month? Was that how long he’d been here? That was how long he was supposed to be here, he was pretty sure. Or maybe the corrections officer had been exaggerating?

“We’re letting you out early, Rivera,” the older guard said, pulling his hands behind his back. “Under normal circumstances you’d carry out the full sentence, but…”

“You need a doctor,” the younger guard blurted out. “Seriously. We can’t keep you here in this state.”

Oh. A doctor, huh? Aside from the fact that he wasn’t particularly keen on a man he didn’t know rearranging his bones…

He lay back down in his cot, snatching his hat from the floor and setting it over his face, smiling sadly. “Well, it’s a nice thought,” he said, managing a laugh, “but that sort of thing costs money that I don’t have.”

“Regardless, she’s right. We really can’t keep you here like this, and frankly, we don’t want to.”

“Can’t imagine why.” He resisted the urge to wiggle the foot on his bad leg in demonstration. Of course, he could guess what they were talking about—he wasn’t exactly deaf to the pained sounds he was making. Or maybe they could just feel sorry for him, but he doubted it.

“Basta.” He heard the guard’s bones clatter in what was probably an exasperated gesture. “You’re free to go, Rivera. Let’s get you out of here.”

“Sí,” Héctor replied, with no small amount of bitterness. “Just give me a moment to hop on up.” In truth, he wasn’t exactly upset about being let out early, but… if they were actually concerned about his well-being, they might have done something to help him with his leg.

At least they hadn’t made him deal with those awful cuffs—the ones that had some sort of magic in them that locked one’s bones together. He usually had to deal with those things to keep him from pulling himself apart to slip through the bars, but this time they hadn’t bothered—not like he could get anywhere with a snapped tibia.

Biting his lip, he re-adjusted his hat and carefully eased himself up into a sitting position, staring down at the two halves of his left tibia. Hm, this would be a challenge. He reached down to peel off the remainder of the tape first, which should have been an easy task. Most of it wasn’t sticky anymore to begin with, having quickly gotten covered in dust and ash, but as he pulled it away a small part caught against the jagged crack in the bone, and he jumped in his seat with a startled yelp.

“D-do you need help, Señor Rivera?” the younger guard stammered, and he gazed up at them.

The female guard was new—mid-to-late twenties, it looked like, possibly even recently-dead, given he hadn’t seen her before. Her hair was in a long, dark braid that went past her waist, and she didn’t wear lipstick. She stood oddly tall compared to the other guard—Juan, he recalled the name suddenly. Juan was big and stocky (or as stocky as a skeleton could be), but not much in the height department, whereas this girl looked like she might be barely shorter than Héctor. She kept looking from her partner and back to him, and Héctor couldn’t tell if she was uncomfortable with the situation in general, or just uncomfortable with him.

Probably the latter. No one felt comfortable around the dusty old souls from the shanties.

“I’ll manage,” he grumbled finally, tossing the wad of tape away and looking down at his leg again. He wasn’t going to put weight on his tibia—he wasn’t sure if he could wreck his bones permanently, and he didn’t want to find out. So… he’d have to be a little more creative. At first he almost tried to grab for half of his tibia, but it wasn’t set right, and trying to pull it off that way would be disastrous. Instead he plucked off his kneecap, ignoring the sounds of disgust from the guards, grabbed the bottom half of his broken tibia with one hand, and with his other hand carefully eased his already-loose fibula off of his leg. The bottom half of the tibia, no longer connected to anything, came loose, and Héctor set it to his other side, wincing when he placed it on the bed. Next came the upper half, which he gently tugged away and set next to its mate, before reassembling the rest of his leg.

With his femur and kneecap connected to the fibula, which was connected to his foot, that should give him… some support, right?

“Wh… what is he doing,” the younger guard whispered, not quite quiet enough for Héctor to miss it.

“What I can,” Héctor replied simply, pressing his hands into either side of his cot as he eased himself to his feet. He kept most of his weight on his good leg and braced one hand against the wall. Even then, his bad leg was already wobbling. The fibula was definitely not made to bear weight by itself, but maybe it would last him until he got to Shantytown. He pulled his hand away from the wall, and, when he didn’t immediately fall, forced a smile. “See? You can learn to make due when—”

Pop.

Héctor flailed as he tried to lean toward the wall again a second too late, and quickly loosened his joints as his body tipped over on its left side. A few bones were knocked out of place at the impact, but were otherwise unharmed, and he grumbled as he willed himself back together, careful to keep the tibia away. Right, he’d forgotten that fibula didn’t like to stay in place anymore.

“Enough of this,” Juan growled, grabbing Héctor by the arm and hoisting him up. “Yolanda, you take his other side.”

The female guard—Yolanda, evidently—shot Héctor an apologetic look as she took his other arm, lifting it around her shoulders. Hesitantly she glanced over at the broken tibia sitting on the cot, and reached down to pick up one of the pieces, looking like someone who had to pick up a particularly filthy piece of trash.

Héctor immediately shuddered, clenching his teeth. “Ay, be careful with that—!” he whined, and Yolanda responded by tucking the broken bone under her free arm, and doing the same with the other half, thankfully keeping the broken ends away from each other.

So here he was, being hoisted by two guards out of the holding cell early, with his tibia being carried by one of the guards and rubbing against itself.

It was going to be one of those days.

Keeping his head down and his hat shading his face, Héctor let himself be dragged out of the building, biting his metaphorical tongue against the “friendly” jeers a few of the workers there threw at him: “Ah, there he is!” “Ey, gotta keep yourself together.” “That was some show on Dia de Muertos! Could’a used more fireworks, though.” “Tough luck, huh? Maybe next year, amigo!”

Yes, maybe next year he would cross so he didn’t have to stick around to hear their estúpido unfunny jokes. But finally he was out of the building and out onto the streets, and Juan shrugged him off of his shoulders. “All right. You can head on home, now.”

“What?” Héctor blurted, snapping his head up to give the guard an incredulous look. “You’re just gonna leave me here like this?”

“This is the Department of Family Reunions, not a transportation service. The gondola station’s two blocks away, trolley is three.”

“Ah, sí, let me just walk over there on my one leg!” he snarled, but the guard had already turned away and was walking up the steps. Heaving a frustrated sigh, he turned to the other officer, who was looking away. “What? Aren’t you gonna leave, too?”

“Uh, well.” Yolanda re-adjusted her grip on his broken tibia, causing him to hiss at the mild pain. “My shift ends in…”—she glanced at her watch—“six minutes anyway. I… I can help you get to the station, if… if you…”

“So you don’t have leaving a pobre soul like me to fend for himself on your conscience?” he muttered, and immediately winced when he realized he’d said it aloud. “I… lo siento. Yes. I would… like that.”

Seeming to ignore his earlier comment, she gave him a look over, her gaze lingering on his bad leg (the fibula barely clinging to his femur and kneecap) before she pulled him a little closer. “Be careful,” she said, and began walking. “Where is it you need to get to?”

Rattling off the tower address and the station that would take him the closest to his section of Shantytown (and it was never close), Héctor put the rest of his focus on keeping his bad leg from falling apart again. That fibula did not want to stay connected, and if he moved his leg just wrong, it was going to come apart again.

“You’re sure I can’t take you to a doctor, señor?” Yolanda asked, drawing him out of his thoughts.

“No,” he said quickly, staring down at the cobblestone beneath his bare feet. “I don’t have the money, and anyway, they don’t…” Realization struck him, and and he shut his eyes as a numbness filled the void where his stomach once was. “They don’t… treat people who can’t heal.”

The guard went silent after that, and Héctor resumed his focus on keeping his leg from falling apart, or trying to. Don’t think about it right now, he told himself as the numbness slowly began to morph into something more dangerous that would not help him right now. It may still be okay. They can probably still do something for you back home. There are people there worse than you, and they get through, right? You’ll be okay.

“Señor?”

Blinking, Héctor shook himself out of his thoughts and found himself staring down at his solitary foot.

…Wait…

“You… seem to have dropped something back there.”

Ay, this was going to be a long day.

It took a few tries to get his fibula reconnected with the rest of his leg, but they managed, and Yolanda continued to walk him down to the gondola station. They reached it without incident, and Héctor dug through his pouch to scrounge up the coins necessary to pay for the trip, relieved he had enough for that, at least.

“Gracias,” he murmured to the girl as she helped him onto the bench in the little car and handed him the two halves of his tibia. But when she turned around to head out, he blinked. “Are you not coming?”

“No, sorry, señor,” she said, not turning to face him. “I… I need to get home to my family.”

“Ah.” Wish I could say the same. “Adiós, then.”

Unsurprisingly, the other passengers in the gondola seemed to be keeping their distance from him, some of them practically sitting on top of each other to avoid getting too close. The ones across from him deliberately looked away, or stole glances at his leg or his disconnected bones when they thought he wouldn’t notice. It was something he should probably be used to by this point, after so many decades of bearing dusty, yellowed bones and tattered clothes, but some part of him still ached at the thought that he’d become someone that no one wanted to be around.

Not even his family.

Heaving a shaking sigh, he tipped his hat to shadow his face, so he could at least pretend to not notice their stares.

While it was nice to rest his bad leg for a while, at least, the break was short-lived, and the gondola came to its final stop. Héctor stayed put, letting everyone else shuffle out around him so there wouldn’t be any witnesses to the spectacle of him trying to get out on one leg. As he waited, he stared down at his fibula, wondering if he could coax it to stay in place somehow. He had no more tape on him, however (he’d only grabbed as much as he could from the correction officer’s desk before being incarcerated), and not a lot of time before the conductor threw him out. He wrung his hands for a moment before catching a glimpse of his right sleeve—the worn suit had been damaged during his crossing attempt, some of the fabric toward the end hanging in shreds. Having no better ideas, he quickly tore off a strip of the fabric and got to work tying it around the end of his femur and his loose fibula.

Hopefully it would hold, at least until he got to Shantytown. There was nothing else he could do.

With one hand clutching the two halves of his broken tibia close to his chest, he used his other hand to push himself up off his seat, his left leg wobbling. The movement immediately felt wrong—the fibula was not meant to bear weight without the aid of the tibia—but he kept as much weight on his other leg as he could, and began limping.

People waiting the board the gondola immediately backed away upon seeing him, and he ignored them, trying to act like it was the most normal thing for a half-lame skeleton to be limping around and carrying his own broken bones with him. It wasn’t an easy feat when his leg left like it would give out beneath him with every step, but he kept it up anyway, at least until he got past the crowds. It was still a long walk to get to Shantytown from here, and in this condition, it would take even longer.

Héctor found himself getting worn out quickly, and hobbled over to lean against the wall of a building with the intent of resting until he caught his breath. Unfortunately the shop owner had other ideas, and poked his head through the doorway to ask Héctor to not loiter. Héctor could only mumble an apology as he shuffled away, too tired to put up a fight this time.

For some distance he carried on like that, limping down the gradually sloping streets and stopping to rest where he could. Occasionally people would openly stare at him and whisper to each other, but he was beyond caring at this point. Even with his efforts to put most of his weight on his good leg, his left fibula was aching something terrible, and his energy was near-spent by the time he was halfway to Shantytown. He couldn’t very well sleep on the side of the street, in front of one of these buildings—not unless he wanted to get arrested again—or fall asleep in an alley and risk falling prey to petty thieves, so he had to force himself to keep moving.

At one point his foot caught against an uneven cobblestone, and with a wave of blinding panic he realized he was about to slam his already-broken tibia into the street. Twisting himself around on his spine, he managed to turn his front half around, clutching his tibia to his chest for dear life and falling hard on his shoulder. The fall still hurt a bit, dislodging a few bones, but he’d prevented himself from ruining his leg any more than it already was, so at least he had that.

Taking a moment to catch his breath as his panic ebbed away, he called his bones back. He made it to his knees, and, not thinking, tried to push himself up on his bad leg. The pressure sent a jolt of pain through his fibula, and for a terrifying moment he thought the thin bone would snap. But it held, and he eased his leg back down.

As Héctor fought to stand up again, part of him wished someone would see his struggle and help him. But fewer people came down this low on the tower, and those who did walked in a wide arc around him, sparing him a glance, if anything. At the same time, he almost wished no one were here at all, so they wouldn’t have to see him in such a ridiculous predicament. Those who saw him were probably wondering what on earth he’d done to land himself in such a terrible position, and that was a question he didn’t want to explain the answer to.

It took him far longer than it should have to right himself, but he managed, and with a more pronounced limp he resumed his trek down to the shanties. Under his breath he nearly cursed the guard who had simply dumped him on the street when his screams had gotten too grating to listen to. It’s better than staying in there, though, he reminded himself, and the anger reluctantly ebbed away. They could have just made you stay there with your broken leg. And aside from that… they weren’t the ones at fault in the first place.

That would be the idiota who thought that attempting to rocket himself over the bridge via fireworks was a viable plan.

Ay, that would be something to explain to his Shantytown family. People didn’t usually ask questions there, but they might this time given the state he was coming home in. Ah, yeah, the fireworks. Turns out they don’t make good transportation. But they do have a tendency to blow off your limbs if you stand too close. Who knew, right?

A chuckle escaped his throat, only to be cut off by a gasp as his left leg gave out beneath him, sending him crashing to the ground. He wasn’t able to twist himself around this time, and his tibia was caught between his body and the hard cobblestone ground.

All that existed was pain. If Héctor were capable of thinking beyond the current agony, he would have found the pain comparable to what he’d felt the moment he’d realized his tibia was not in one piece.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been lying there before he gradually became aware of a strange barking noise accompanied by an insectoid buzzing and distant footfalls, which he could just barely make out over what sounded like a hoarse scream nearby.

…Oh. That last part was him, wasn’t it?

Choking, he pushed himself up on his arm, wearily raising his head to see a sky-blue and neon-orange alebrije flying toward him—one that looked like a fox with ears as big as its body, and buzzing dragonfly wings carrying it through the air. It was strangely familiar, and suddenly he recalled that one of his primos back in Shantytown had an alebrije like that. But that would mean—!

“Héctor? Cousin Héctor?!”

Héctor wheezed out a laugh and let his head drop, facing the cobblestone below him. “Hola, Primo Lorenzo,” he said, lifting his head again and cocking a brow bone as the man got closer. The alebrije, meanwhile, landed next to him and began sniffing him over, its breath almost ticklish against him. “Good to see you out and about.”

“Where have you been, cousin?!” Lorenzo cried, hurrying closer. His sombrero, tied around his neck, was flailing behind him. “Did you get yourself arrested again? Why are you—Dios mio.” He stumbled, drawing back with an alarmed hiss.

“Ah, it’s, uh… not as bad as it looks.” Héctor gave a sheepish grin, but it must not’ve been enough to convince his primo, who was looking him over in horror.

Quickly Lorenzo’s widened eyes narrowed into a glare as he clenched his fists. “Who did this to you? Who do I gotta send Lola after, huh?”

Héctor looked askance at the little fox alebrije that was now nosing his cheekbone, tickling his face with her whiskers. “Looks like you’ve already sent her after the one responsible, primo.”

Lorenzo looked him over again before heaving a deep sigh, frame wilting. “Come on, let’s get you home.” Stooping down, he grasped Héctor’s hand and eased him to his feet.

Biting back a moan as the pain flared in all parts of his broken leg, Héctor shut his eyes, leaning to his right side. “Gracias,” he breathed, clutching the two halves of his tibia to his chest. He waited, expecting his primo to wrap his arm around his shoulders to help him limp back to Shantytown.

Instead, there was a moment of silence before Lorenzo spoke: “Uh-uh.” And suddenly Héctor was lifted off his feet and scooped up into the man’s arms.

“¡¿Que?!” Héctor blurted, opening his eyes to find himself being carried in the direction of the shanties. “Oye, what are you doing?!”

“You’re not walking like that,” Lorenzo said with a firm shake of his head. “Wouldn’t make it down two steps.”

…Ah. Right. The stairs. He’d forgotten about those. “Fair enough,” he muttered, settling himself in his primo’s arms. Meanwhile, Lola buzzed around him, whimpering in concern. He wondered if Lorenzo would ever ask him what happened, but the man remained quiet, at least until they got to the stairs (in a shockingly short length of time, he thought—at the rate Héctor had been going, it might have taken him another hour or so).

“Heh, thought I was going to go play for tips this evening,” Lorenzo said, shaking his head. “Guess there’s always tomorrow.”

“Do they still come near you?” Héctor glanced toward him; Lorenzo’s bones were only in slightly better condition than his own, though he had a crack through the bottom of his right eye socket.

“Sometimes,” he replied, glancing over Héctor’s ribs so he could see the steps beneath him. “If I can play good enough, sometimes they don’t notice just how yellow my bones are.” He glanced back at Héctor as he stepped down to the first landing. “You should try it sometime, cousin.”

Thinking about playing music again made a heavy weight settle in his chest cavity. “No gracias, primo.”

“Eh. Suit yourself.” With that, Lorenzo kept quiet as he continued carrying Héctor down the rickety staircase, concentrating on not falling off or through the rotten wood. But finally they reached the gates to Shantytown, and Héctor twitched his good leg.

“Set me down,” he whispered, “por favor. I…” I don’t want anyone seeing me like this. “…I think I can walk now.”

“You sure?”

“Sí. Please.”

Shrugging, Lorenzo eased Héctor down to his feet, but kept an arm around his shoulder. Héctor could accept that, throwing his own arm around his primo and grinning like they’d just been having a fun conversation. No need to worry the others, after all.

As they limped into town, immediately it came to life with the joyful cries of the nearly-forgotten. “Cousin Héctor!” a few souls shouted, waving enthusiastically, and he called out their names in return. “Where you been, cousin?” called another.

“Out and about?” He tried to shrug as best as he could. “You know, got to keep up with the plans, heh. Get ready for next year!” It wasn’t entirely a lie—when he’d been able to think around his pain, he had been contemplating potential new plans for next year. And he had been out and about. Primo Lorenzo was giving him a look, but he only grinned back, glancing pointedly in the direction of his shack.

“What’s that you’re carrying?” Tía Chelo asked, taking a few steps closer, and Héctor flinched, tugging it partially under his jacket.

“Nothing, nothing!” he said frantically, contemplating whether or not he should just scramble away from Lorenzo and bolt to his shack. “Just, uh…”

“Are you limping?” one tío asked, also stepping closer. “What’s—eEEEAGH!”

Héctor shut his eyes, gritting his teeth. Here we go.

“What happened to your leg?!”

“Pobrecito cousin! Are you carrying your—?”

“When did this happen?”

Dios, he didn’t want to answer any of this right now. But he held up his free hand, grinning as best as he could as he faced the growing crowd of souls. “Hey, estas bien! I can barely feel it. You don’t need to worry about me, eh, primos?”

“You’ve been gone for two days, Héctor!”

“It doesn’t hurt?! I broke my pinky toe last month and could hardly walk!”

“Is your fibula tied to your femur? ¿Estas loco?”

“¡Apártense!” a harsh voice cut through the crowd, and a few souls moved out of the way. “What’re you all gawking at?”

Héctor flinched, fighting the childish urge to duck behind Primo Lorenzo as a familiar figure hobbled to the front of the crowd. “Hola, Chicharrón,” he said, voice small.

Chicharrón looked him up and down, eying his mangled leg and shattered tibia. Quickly he made the connection, and his usual scowl deepened.

Héctor felt his non-existent guts sink. He knew what was going to happen next, and braced himself.

To his surprise, Chicharrón turned around, hobbling back toward his bungalow. “Well, bring him over,” he called over his shoulder.

…Okay, so he was probably saving it for later, then. Wouldn’t be the first time this had happened. Héctor looked cautiously at Lorenzo, who only shrugged and began to help Héctor across the boardwalk to Chicharrón’s house. A couple souls followed while the rest stared. Their looks may have been ones of sympathy, but Héctor would rather they not look at him at all.

As they entered the bungalow, Chicharrón immediately began digging through his shelves and piles. “Set him in the hammock,” he grumbled, tossing a shoebox full of socks behind him, “and make sure he stays there.”

Héctor frowned. “It’s all right, Cheech. I can get in myself,” he said, moving to get away from Lorenzo so he could prove it.

“No, you can’t.” The old man glanced over his shoulder, nodding at the two souls that had come with them—probably Estefan and Manuel, if he were to guess without looking.

Before he could check, they were both suddenly at either side of him, hooking their arms under his in a way that reminded him a little too much of the security guards back at the bridge. But they weren’t rough, at least, and glancing to either side of him (his guesses had been correct), he found them looking away, their expressions a mix of sympathy and unease. “Wh-what’s with all this, Cheech? You’re just gonna duct tape it back together, aren’t you?” He looked frantically around the house, clutching his tibia as close to his body as he could. “You… have duct tape, right?”

“Mmm, nope, not this time,” came Chicharrón’s grumble from the other side of the house. A cascade of items crashed down at his side as he continued his search, unperturbed. “Leather n’ glue will have to do, and a splint until it sets.”

“Uh… well, that… still sounds doable. If you give it over to me, I could… probably do it,” Héctor offered as his tíos gently lifted him into the hammock. Said hammock was full of junk, and he grimaced, pulling a violin bow out from beneath him as he tried to make himself comfortable. “I mean, not like last time, with my… arm.” His left hand reached over to rub said arm, over the tape and leather that held the fragmented end in place. “I-I’ve got both hands free this time!”

Finally Chicharrón turned to face him, straightening his back. “So set it.”

Héctor blanched, looking down from his tibia and back to Chicharrón. “What, right now?” When the old man’s expression didn’t change, Héctor attempted a smile, the corners of it strained. “What’s the rush? I was just going to head back home and take a nap, first—I mean, not like I’ve got anywhere to—”

Chicharrón marched up to the hammock, his cane stamping against the floor, and held out several strips of leather and a can of glue. “Set it.”

Stepping forward, Lorenzo held out a hand. “Cheech—”

Chicharrón shot a glare at Lorenzo, and waited until he backed off before looking back to Héctor.

Swallowing, Héctor reached out with a shaking hand to take the items, looking from the leather and back to his tibia. It’s… it shouldn’t be that hard, he thought, setting the leather and glue aside and taking one half of his bone in his left hand. Just putting two pieces back together. He bit his lip as he held out the two pieces of bone, trying to ignore that his tíos and primo were all turning away. I’ve done crazier stuff to try to cross the bridge. Trembling, he turned the two halves of the bone in what he guessed was the right angle, and—

The two broken fragments bumped against each other, and Héctor shrieked. Moments later, he could barely hear Chicharrón’s voice over his daze: “Now you see? Lorenzo, take those things over here. Estefan, bring me the rest of his leg. Manny, give him this, and hold him down.”

Before he could ask what was going on, a bottle was held out to him. He took it without question, tipping it back to pour some of its contents down his throat, some of it splashing against his face when his left leg was very suddenly tugged off below the femur. Shortly afterward the bottle was taken from him, and his two tíos stood slightly behind him and off to either side of the hammock, each with their hands over his shoulders.

“Idiota,” Chicharrón grumbled from the other side of the bungalow, and Héctor shut his eyes to keep himself from looking in the old man’s direction. “When we get broke, we don’t get fixed, and you go off with your estúpido plans and…”

“Cousin Héctor,” Lorenzo said over Cheech’s grumbling, hurrying to the hammock, “have you thought about your plan for next year?”

Héctor eyed him. “Why are you asking me n—”

Pain briefly shot through his absent leg, and his voice hiked up into a yelp, his entire body bucking as his tíos forced him back down. His femur swung around uselessly while his right leg kicked a jar of buttons and a very broken accordion out of the hammock.

“Sí, you were saying you were getting ready earlier,” Estefan said, his voice a little too loud.

Héctor shut his eyes, his hands clinging to either side of the hammock in a death grip. “I-I don’t know yet, the f-fireworks didn’t work this yeeEEAAAAGH—”

“Fireworks?!” Chicharrón growled, and Héctor could only give a pained moan in reply.

“Okay, but what else can you try?” Lorenzo prodded, then waited for a response. “Cousin?”

Feeling like he would throw up if he tried to answer, Héctor only turned his head away, facing the sound of the water lapping the docks outside the house. There was a sudden but light pressure against his chest, and he gasped, looking up into the face of a tiny, big-eared fox. Instinctively he reached out to pet her, and tried to make his mind formulate words. “A-al… alebrije?” he offered, and hissed as he felt something cold between the two halves of his tibia. Lola tipped her ears back at the sound, but didn’t move away, and he kept his focus on her. “C-could… dress as an alebrije, and… and they’d… let me… pass…?”

Behind him came a few soft, but genuine, laughs. “How do you plan to do that, cousin?”

“I… I think Ceci was using some glowy paint—nnngh!” He gritted his teeth, kicking out with his good leg as he felt his bad one get twisted slightly. “Use the—glowy paint, and—”

Chicharrón gave a frustrated cry. “Lorenzo, get over here!”

Héctor could feel them holding his tibia together while something was wrapped around it, binding to it with cold, sticky glue that made him shudder. “C-could rearrange my bones, a-and look like… an alebrije… M-maybe some other costume work…” He shifted, trying to turn to grin up at his tíos. “You think it might work?”

Manuel cocked a brow bone. “Estas loco, cousin. Maybe, though.”

“Heh, un poco,” he mumbled, settling back into the hammock. Whatever they were doing to his leg didn’t seem to hurt quite so much now, and he felt like he could ignore it, maybe if he just shut his eyes again for a little while…

It didn’t feel like long, however, before his leg was suddenly shoved back against his femur. Yelping, he sat bolt upright, the hammock swaying beneath him, and looked around. Lola was sleeping off to his side, and on the other side of the bungalow, he could see his primo and two tíos talking quietly. But then where was—

He glanced back to the left and nearly leapt out of the hammock in surprise to see Chicharrón standing there, scowling at him. “Normally I’d ask you to get outta here, but unless you want your leg to snap like a twig again, lie down. Gotta let the glue set for twenty-four hours.”

“...Gracias, Cheech,” he muttered, lying back into the hammock.

Chicharrón grunted, hobbling back over to a spot that Héctor couldn’t see. Meanwhile, Héctor looked down at his leg, inspecting it: a few long strips of leather had been wrapped around it and held with glue, which he could still see faint glimmers of. But over all that, a splint had been tied to his leg with a few more strips of leather and what appeared to be several strips of a charred fabric. It looked... blue? Purple? Something like that. Sort of like his—

Blinking, he looked to his right arm, only to find the sleeve had been cut off. “Wha—hey!” he cried, turning his head to look for Chicharrón and finding him off to the right behind his hammock. “You wrecked my suit!”

“That sleeve was in shreds anyway,” Chicharrón said with a shrug. “Don’t think you’re missing much.”

“Quite the fashion statement!” Manuel called from the other side of the shack. Héctor was almost offended, but his tío gave him a good-natured grin—a real one, not like the ones the people in the Department of Family Reunions gave him. “Maybe you’ll set a new trend.”

Héctor snorted, settling himself back into his hammock and shaking his head. “Ah, yes. The just-recently-blown-yourself-up look. Sure it’ll be... explosively popular, eh?”

The others broke into laughter, while he was pretty sure he could hear Cheech rolling his eyes before shouting: “I’ll dump that hammock out into the water for the next one, Héctor!”

Lorenzo stepped up closer to Chicharrón, smiling. “Why’s that, Cheech? You don’t think it’ll take off?”

An empty bottle crashed at Lorenzo’s feet, and Lola’s head shot up from where she lay at Héctor’s side. But Lorenzo only laughed, and she settled back down, tucking her face against Héctor’s ribcage. Héctor smiled, resting his hand on her head as he glanced back down at his broken leg.

It still hurt a lot, and he wasn’t sure how well he was going to walk after this. On top of that, he had another failed Dia de Muertos behind him, but...

Glass clinked nearby, and Héctor craned his neck to see Chicharrón taking a swig from a new bottle before passing it over to the others. The bottle was passed around until Lorenzo handed it off to Héctor, who took it with no small amount of gratitude, tipping it back. He probably drank more than Cheech would’ve liked, but it was enough to make him too drowsy to care.

He leaned back in the hammock as conversation resumed around him, still warm and friendly in spite of Chicharrón’s occasional grumbles—so different from the harsh voice of the security officer, the mocking voices from the Department of Family Reunions, or the suspicious whispers of the people in the upper parts of the city. It didn’t sound much different from any other day in the shanties, but it was comforting in the way only Shantytown could be.

The sloshing of the water outside and the sound of the voices around him faded and blurred into a pleasant murmur as Héctor shut his eyes.

He didn’t have much else going for him, but right now, his Shantytown family was enough.

#hector rivera #chicharron #coco #pixar coco #coco spoilers #fanfic #my writing #GOSH this one took forever to write #next up... time to work on the next chapter of Neither Can You!

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