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dragimalsdaydreams · 3 years

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ok soooo... I’ve never played Pokemon or watched the show or anything, but my dear friend @cobwebbing got into SWSH a while back and infodumped a lot of interesting trivia onto me, including the thing about fossil combinations. we were both horrified by the implications, to the point that she wrote a fun fic exploring the concept (HIGHLY recommend it), and I got invested in speculating the ACTUAL original Pokemon (also, these designs are technically ‘canon’ to her fic)

I tried to mimic some of the official art in lining/shading, but I don’t think I stuck fully to the ‘cartoony’ vibe of Pokemon. ah well, good experience either way

for ease of reading, I’ll be slotting both the image descriptions AND the extra “Pokedex” info about these guys under the cut-- I thought a LOT about their behaviors lmao. for the image descriptions, please assume that the style of all pieces is a mix of ‘cartoony’ and realistic in form, with solid lines and base colors

+bonus! to see the belly <3

[IMAGE ID: text above the Pokemon reads “Zoomzolt” with a yellow button underneath reading “Electric”. the background is a dull yellow with some areas of shade.

this Pokemon is shaped like a prehistoric raptor, with a small/round horizontal torso, a thin neck curved upright, small arm-wings, lithe digitigrade hind legs, and a thin tail held stiffly out at an upward angle from the body. most of the body is bright yellow with small areas of purple, as will be described. the Pokemon is standing cheerily, facing to the left.

the head has a long snout with a prominent bump emphasizing the tip, where a small purple nostril sits on the visible side. the mouth is held open in a happy gape, showing a purple tongue. the front half of the upper and lower jaws have serrated edges resembling sharp teeth, which seem to interlock. the eyes are closed, the lines of the eyelashes turned up with the smile. a small doodle to the left of the head shows the head with jaw closed and eyes open, showing off glossy black-button eyes with tiny eyelashes, and sparkles floating around the eyes. the head is framed by a crown of large, decorative feathers, all of which are a lighter yellow than the body and sport a couple spots of purple. each cheek also has a single purple spot.

a pair of small arms are held loosely to the sides of the body, each with three bare-skin purple talons with long claws, peeking out from under the fluffy yellow feathers of the arm. each arm sports a set of primary feathers resembling a simple wing, ending at around the elbow. these primaries are a lighter yellow than the main body, with a couple spots of purple near the edges. the overall outline at the trailing edge of the primaries forms a lightning bolt shape. there’s a long decorative feather on each of the wings, close to the body, which extends out into a simple zig-zag, before ending in a rounded tip which resembles a peacock feather with a small wisp and a couple purple spots.

the bonus image removes the closest wing primaries, better showing the lighter-yellow underbelly, and the hind legs. the hind legs are long and lithe, covered in yellow feathers up until the ankle, below which the skin is bare and purple. each foot has three toes, two of which are based flat on the ground with mid-length claws. the third toe closest to the body is raised high, sporting a large, sickle-shaped claw, curved sharply compared to the other claws.

a fan of long, light-yellow feathers spans out from the tip of the tail, resembling both the wing feathers and the crown of feathers on the head, adorned with purple spots. the overall outline resembles a diamond, with a vague zig-zag formed by a few feathers on the sides. two long decorative feathers resembling those found on the wings sprout from the sides of the fan as well.

END ID]

Name: Zoomzolt

Type: Electric

Animal Inspirations: road-runners, cockatoos, microraptors in general

Extra design notes: since the spots on the cheeks canonically match the other fossil in the pair, that gave me free-rein to choose whatever color I felt like, and I eventually landed on purple. I also redesigned the arms/wings b/c the shape was just kinda awkward and dull? I think the new wing shape adds more flair to the design, especially in combination with the tail. btw I only thought of the partly-arboreal lifestyle halfway through the piece, and I didn’t feel like changing the claws to fit it better. just know I’m aware that the wing claws should be curvier, and the toe claws (sans sickle) shorter, lmao

Pokedex entry:

Zoomzolts are a highly social species, roaming the moors and forests in groups of 20 or more. while individuals aren’t particularly strong, their tight social bonds more than make up for the lack-- several Zoomzolts can combine their electric powers and deliver devastating blows to even the fiercest opponents. if this isn’t enough, Zoomzolts are a quick and agile species-- they can race away across the plains or climb up nearby trees before their opponent can recover. their unique feet provide an advantage here-- a marriage between an arboreal lifestyle with the curved sickle-claw for climbing, and a grounded lifestyle with the rest of the flat toes for stable running.

besides scaring off predators, Zoomzolts mainly use their electricity to attract and capture prey. at night, packs of Zoomzolts will gather in the upper foliage of tall trees, settle down, and allow small sparks of electricity to arc across their purple spots-- from one part of the body to another, and from one individual to another. this creates a dazzling light show that many nocturnal Bug Pokemon simply can’t resist. when these bugs venture close, the nearest Zoomzolt will quickly snatch them up before returning to formation.

Zoomzolts are friendly and curious to a fault, known for snooping among human belongings if left alone for too long. they’re very easy to train and bond well with humans, but a Zoomzolt will always need more of their own kind to truly thrive. at least 3 or 4 other Zoomzolts are needed for an individual Zoomzolt’s social/mental health, but not all trainers are committed to keeping that many of one species.

~~~

[IMAGE ID: text to the right of the Pokemon reads “Dunkovish” with a tan button and blue button underneath reading “Rock” and “Water”, respectively. the background is a light blue with some areas of shade.

pictured is a fish-like Pokemon, with a typical torpedo-shaped body and a stocky, blunt head. most of the body is blue, with areas of orange and pale yellow, as will be described. the body is positioned in a downward curve, as if the Pokemon is poised to strike at something off-screen.

the head is heavily armored, with most of the main skull forming one large oblong-dish shape. much of this armor is dark blue, while other sections are a bronze-orange color. the jaws are formed out of large, jagged plates, creating massive interlocking orange teeth. the jaw is gaping slightly open, showing a pale blue inner mouth. the visible jaw hinge is rounded and prominent on the cheek. two small, round, bulging eyes sit just above the jaws, on either side of the head near the hinges. the eyes are pale yellow with black, vertical, rectangular pupils.

a few other large plates of armor (some dark blue, some bronze orange) extend out past the main head piece onto the body, arranged like overlapping scales. these plates all have lines at the trailing edges, implying a simple texture. the main body beyond these scales is pale blue, with splotches of dark blue and smaller spots of orange splattered across the body, arranged in a pattern to imply small scales.

there are two sets “limb fins”, one directly behind the lower jaw, and the other near the tail. both sets are built on prominent lobes extending from the main body and matching the main body colors, before the spines of the fin extend out from the ends, flaring out in a pale yellow. the front set of fins is medium-size, smaller than the head, while the back set is much smaller.

the tail fin starts on the back, in the middle of the spine, and extends down to the tip of the tail, then underneath into an extra lobe of spines. visually, this means the main fleshy part of the tail extends into the upper lobe of longer spines, while the lower, shorter lobe of spines flares out underneath, unsupported. this tail fin is pale yellow.

END ID]

Name: Dunkovish

Type: Rock, Water

Animal Inspirations: dunkleosteus, coelacanth

Extra design notes: added in a rock type b/c of the whole “armored fish” thing, and some orange to complement that

Pokedex entry:

this Pokemon roams the open ocean, traveling dozens of miles every day in search of large prey to attack. once spotted, Dunkovish will swim off an appropriate distance, then charge the prey at full speed, ramming their rock-hard skulls into their prey. these charging attacks can easily shatter bone and internal organs, leaving their prey weak and defenseless as Dunkovish feasts.

Dunkovish aren’t typically a danger to humans, as they usually steer clear of shorelines. small shipping vessels are more at risk, as Dunkovish can mistake the ships for prey and ram into them, causing shipwrecks and major losses.

while their power makes them dangerous for the inexperienced, Dunkovish are shockingly easy to train. they’re very food-motivated Pokemon, so all a prospective trainer needs is a lot of tasty chum and a bit of patience.

~~~

[IMAGE ID: text to the upper left of the Pokemon reads “Arctoise” with a light blue button underneath reading “Ice”. the background is light blue with some areas of shade.

this Pokemon looks to be a cross between a tortoise and a plesiosaur, with a large, rounded shell, two sets of long fins, and a paddle-like tail. the shell is mostly snow-white, while the rest of the body is mostly blue with areas of white, as will be described. the body is floating at rest, fins spread-eagle from the body for balance.

the shell is fairly tall and dome-shaped, with the lower half wrapping underneath the torso, between the front and hind legs. the shell has some ridges at the back implying “layers” of snow, which smooth out as they reach the front of the shell. the base color is snow-white, while the lower two “layers” get progressively darker, into a blue-ish light grey. this grey peters out into spots as it reaches the front of the shell.

the head is long, thin, and sharply pointed, making for a thin spear shape. the snout resembles a dolphin beak-- long and rounded at the tip. the eyes are sharp and triangular, with visible white sclera, light blue irises, and round black pupils. the nostrils are based at the center of the beak, raised up along with a small ridge of bone at the center-line of the beak, meeting the forehead. the nostrils are merged together into a small heart shape. a set of small spiral shapes frames either side of the cranium, implying some kind of auditory system. the neck is tucked into the body in the main art, but a small doodle to the side shows the neck fully extended-- long and serpentine like a heron. while the main body (outside the shell) is an aqua blue, the head itself is mostly dark blue, with a few stripes of aqua blue at the tip of the beak.

there are two sets of long, pointed fins, the front set slightly larger than the back set. the front set of fins sit to either side of the neck, settled into the open body cavity of the shell. the back set extend from the shell as well, just in front of the tail. each fin’s base color is dark blue, with white tips and white spots that vaguely follow the inner bone structure of the fins.

the tail is thick and somewhat short, smoothly transitioning from the wide main body-shell down into a pointed tip. lobes of short cartilaginous fins sprout from the top and bottom of the tail tip, the top lobe taller but not as long, and the bottom lobe shorter height-wise but longer. the main tail is aqua blue, while the fins are dark blue.

END ID]

Name: Arctoise

Type: Ice

Animal Inspirations: sea turtles, tortoises, plesiosaur, herons, anhingas

Extra design notes: in retrospect, the ‘shell’ is prolly meant to be a mane of fur, but I like my shell idea too much to change it (if I were to redo it tho, I might’ve gone for like... seal inspiration? selkie lore?? hm). also certain restorations of plesiosaurs shaped the ‘paddle’ on the tail like I’ve shown, which makes more sense to me.

Pokedex entry:

this Pokemon is closely related to the modern Lapras, as seen in their many shared structural features. many researchers even believe Arctoise to be a direct ancestor to Lapras due to genetic similarities, but this question hasn’t been fully resolved.

Arctoise are very successful predators of the frigid southern pole, utilizing a unique hunting technique. they float patiently out near glaciers, necks tucked into their shells and staying perfectly still for hours on end. when other Pokemon see the Arctoise’s shiny white shell, they’re fooled into thinking it’s a snow-covered glacier, safe to rest on. when the Pokemon settles comfortably on the shell, Arctoise snaps into action, quickly flipping over so their prey is thrown into the water. sometimes this is enough to drown the prey (often true for Flying Pokemon that dropped down to rest), but usually this only stuns the prey. this gives Arctoise the chance to snap out their long neck and capture the prey in their powerful jaws. once subdued, Arctoise will right their body in the water and enjoy their meal.

despite the ponderous size/shape of this species, Arctoise are still able to float quite easily due to air sacs located near their spine (thus, near the top of their shell). these sacs allow Arctoise to carefully control how they float, and help hold the large dome of their shell above the water.

communities of small Water Pokemon often form around Arctoise. the large shell and quiet demeanor makes for a stable underwater haven, and a steady source of food from the scraps that Arctoise leaves behind. they’re usually safe from Arctoise’s appetite, as they’re too small to be considered a proper meal. additionally, these small Pokemon often attract larger prey to the area, providing Arctoise more hunting opportunities.

Arctoise is an aloof species, and won’t respond well to “overly-affectionate” bond-based training. but as long as their space and solitude is respected, an Arctoise is willing to cooperate with a trainer towards mutual goals.

~~~

[IMAGE ID: text to the upper left reads “Dracoleon” with a purple button and magenta button underneath reading “Dragon” and “Poison”, respectively. the background is a light purple with some areas of shade.

there are two Pokemon in this image, one to the left with a “female” ♀ symbol, and one to the right with a “male” ♂ symbol. both Pokemon resemble stocky, low-set herbivorous dinosaurs, with short/thick legs, and round/heavy torsos. the female is far larger than the male, and sports two rows of large spikes along her back. the base color of both is a dark green, with large swathes of magenta patterns, as will be described. both are poised with their heads low to the ground, and the female’s tail raised in a defensive position.

the heads of both sexes are wide and triangular, with sharp points at either side of the skull, and a pointed beak at the tip. their round eyes rest underneath the flat top of the skull, facing outwards to either side. the female’s eyelids are pointed down in an angry expression, while the male’s eyelids are pointed up in a worried expression. their visible sclera are white, and their irises are dark magenta. their nostrils sit on either side at the point of the beak. there are prominent bumps on either side of the skull, just behind the eyes, implying an auditory system. the flat top of the skull is bright magenta, while the rest of the head is dark green.

the small head transitions into the larger body via a thick, short neck, held low to the ground. the torsos are both round, heavy, and somewhat horizontally flat like a lizard. the base color is dark green with a light green underbelly, while the magenta pattern on the head extends all the way down to the tail, covering the full back. several pointed spikes of color stick out from the pattern, trailing down the sides of the torso and legs.

the female has two rows of light magenta spikes sticking out from the upper-sides of her torso, 7 pairs in total. the front-most spikes are the largest, with a horn-like shape that curves out in a wave of out-up-out into a sharp tip. the shape of the spikes gradually transitions from round horns to triangular plates at the end of the tail. the sizes transition from the largest at the front, smaller on the torso, larger at the center of the tail, then small at the tip again. all the spikes point at an angle out/up from the body, except for the very last pair on the tip of the tail, which stick out flatly from the sides of the tail.

the legs of both sexes are short and stocky, with thick underlying muscles. the feet are all digitigrade, but the foot/”hand” sections are very short. the feet all have 3 main toes set flat on the ground, while the front feet have a dew claw set higher on the hand, above the ground. all claws are short/thick and hoof-like, though the female’s are slightly longer and sharper. the hind legs are longer than the front legs, pushing the hips higher than the shoulders. the legs are all dark green with light magenta claws. the female has extra magenta stripes running horizontal across the legs.

the tails are both thick, transitioning smoothly from the thick body down to a pointed tip. the male’s tail is short and stubby, while the female’s is longer, sporting the spikes.

END ID]

Name: Dracoleon

Type: Dragon, Poison

Animal Inspirations: stegosaurus, ankylosaurus. (also.... Kaim from Devilman......)

Extra design notes: I mostly color-picked for the other Pokes, but I shifted Dracoleon’s color a lot from the canon colors. the og colors were just a bit too much for me-- hurt a lil bit to look at. so I shifted the red more magenta, and the green to a duller, more subdued saturation. I’m hoping the purple-shifted red conveys the Poison type better. also added a couple more spikes to the tail for flair.

Pokedex Entry:

due to their heavy sexual dimorphism, researchers originally identified male Dracoleon remains as juveniles of the species. it wasn’t until this Pokemon was fully restored in the flesh that this misconception was corrected.

female Dracoleon are highly territorial, aggressively defending their territory against anything they perceive to be a threat. thus, females are generally solitary, only tolerating the presence of male Dracoleon. this aggression only increases during breeding season, when females compete for male attention, and then nesting season when defending their hatchlings.

male Dracoleon are much smaller and more docile than their female counterparts. while females will actively protect males when the males are still within their territory, males usually find protection in numbers by banding together into small groups. males are as attentive to nesting needs as the females, but since they end up mating with several females a year, they roam in small groups across several territories. they’ll visit one female’s nest to help with food and nest protection for a while, before heading off to the next territory for another round of nest-duty. these transition periods from one territory to another are where males are most vulnerable to predation, so they try to travel quickly.

females’ spikes are covered in a toxic oil which is mostly an irritant to fellow Dracoleon and Poison-types, but can easily kill other species if it penetrates the skin. their magenta patterns build an association between their bright coloring and toxicity, which helps protect the males from predation by association, despite the males not having toxic spikes.

while Dracoleon are herbivorous generalists of thick forest regions, they seem to prefer roots and tubers over foliage. Dracoleon territory is easily identified by scattered areas of dug-up soil and holes.

while male Dracoleon are generally easy to befriend and train, females are very stubborn and aggressive towards most training attempts. however, if an experienced trainer is determined enough to prove their worth to their Pokemon, Dracoleon can become one of the most loyal and trustworthy companions a trainer could hope for.

#pokemon swsh #arctozolt #arctovish #dracozolt #dracovish #pokemon #pokemon sword and shield #WHEW... that was a task

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remmushound · 3 years

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Curse of the clan, Part 18! @scentedcandlecryptid

Content warning: Swearing, Violence, fighting, mentions of skinning, impalement, death

It looked like a lion, but smelled like a rabbit? Leonardo immediately felt a chill go up his spine, and if he had hair it would have been standing up straight like Usagi’s was. Usagi looked like he had been hit with an electric current, his fur sticking up at all ends and his chest heaving with every strained, slow breath. Nuriyuki took one last, big sniff and then whined, cowering against Usagi.

“I don’t like him… he doesn’t smell right…” Nuriyuki sniffled.

Genisuki moved to place himself between the badger cub and the stranger that had yet to turn his face. The wind changed, but it seemed no one cared about that except for the stranger, who took a moment to smell the shift in the air before turning to face the quad. Leonardo’s heart dropped into his stomach and then rebounded to pound heavy inside his head. That wasn’t a lion. That wasn’t a lion at all! It was a rabbit. A rabbit wearing a lion’s skin.

It cloaked over the entire length of the rabbit’s large build; it only seemed to belong to the upper half of the lion, the skin that used to belong on the arms now acting as a ribbon tied around the rabbit’s chest. The perfectly skinned lions head folded over the rabbit's head acting as a hood. The rabbit’s hand slowly reached behind his back to pull out a longsword, and that seemed to be the breaking point for Usagi.

Usagi gave a vicious roar, spurred on burning hate and grief in his heart that spilled out of his eyes. Leonardo grabbed his odaci, ready to back the rabbit no matter what, but he was quickly intercepted by the powerful grip of Genisuki. Leonardo growled and tried to pull himself free, fighting spirit quickly replaced by panic and trapped frustration.

“Gen—let me go!” Leonardo snarled; struggle as he might, Genisuki’s grip was strong and unfaltering.

“No.” Genisuki bellowed. He looked to the rabbits. “This isn’t your fight, little turtle.”

Genisuki dropped Leonardo to the ground hard. Leonardo whimpered and scrambled back to his feet. He had already missed the start of the fight, and now both rabbits were locked in a duel of swords, more dancing than fighting. It was so formal and straightforward that Leonardo couldn’t imagine it was anything more than a friendly spar. They were circling each other, longsword and katana joining in a steady beat.

“That is so… anticlimactic…” Leonardo breathed a weak laugh. “Are— are they gonna fight any time soon or?”

“You ain’t never seen a samurai fight, have you?” Genisuki laughed. “But just you wait. Usagi hasn’t forsaken the advantage of espionage. His master taught him well.”

Usagi ducked into a roll to escape a particularly lucky swing from the enemy rabbit. The white rabbit with the single black finger stared, eyes wide, and then fell to a chuckle.

“You fight dishonorably. Just like your master. If you can call him that.” He smirked, but was quickly knocked from his feet by a strong strike from Usagi’s hind legs.

“Kenichi…” Usagi snarled as he got back to his feet. “How dare you wear my master’s skin like one of your trophies!?”

Kenichi laughed, locking on to Usagi’s heartbreak and teasing it further. “But this is a trophy. Just like this longsword~” He twisted the sword to admire the beautiful metalwork.

“That’s not yours!” Usagi snarled.

“Oh, I assure you he won’t be needing it anymore. Honestly, the old man hardly put up a fight.”

Usagi lashed out with several more blind strikes that Kenichi thwarted with a laugh.

“Why…?” Was all Usagi managed to gasp out.

“Why?” Kenichi snarled, “Why?! Twenty-four years, Usagi! That’s how long you left me! A yokai can change in that time. You left me, you left the school, to go train with him! And I waited for you to come back, but you never did!”

Usagi’s gaze almost softened, then hardened again. “You killed my master over jealously?! We were kits, Ken!”

“Do you have any idea what I went through when you were gone?” Kenichi snapped, “You were the only friend I had!”

“We were seven, Kenichi! You could have made new friends!”

“Like you did?” Kenichi snarled, “The rhino, the fox— that guy?!” He pointed his sword at Leonardo, then shook his head, “Your master was very old, Usagi. Very old and very confident. Too confident. Someone would have taken the glory sooner or later, it was only a matter of time!”

Usagi pulled away to take a breath, wiping foam and slobber from his mouth as he tried to find an entrance for an attack. “You’re insane…”

“But you should feel honored, Usagi.” Kenichi grinned and waved his long sword around, the skin of the slain lion master dancing along with him. “You were his first and only student! And now, his teachings will die with you!”

Kenichi dove forward. Leonardo could stand it no longer and, like the shadow he was trained to be, Leonardo was there to intercept the long sword with his odachi. Kenichi was startled at the sudden intervention, giving a gasp and a hesitance that left him open for attack. Leonardo kicked the rabbit in the stomach and knocked him back.

“This is my fight!” Usagi snarled almost immediately, flashing teeth in Leonardo’s direction.

It seemed neither of them had a choice anymore, for Kenichi’s broad feet quickly touched base on Leonardo’s chest and sent him flying. Kenichi quickly pursued him. Leonardo was back on his feet before Kenichi had got to him, and when the rabbit samurai noticed this, he stopped his charge in favor of circling. Leonardo kept his odachi pointed at Kenichi as they circled each other, each looking for a weakness in the other.

“It is certainly dishonerable to fight two against one..."

Leonardo tried to ignore Kenichi’s taunting and continued to search for a potential attack.

“You must be a dishonorable ronin.” Kenichi grinned, “Like Usagi here! Trained by a ronin, and following in those same footsteps. A ronin’s ronin! Imagine that!”

Leonardo’s eyes went wide and he sucked in a sharp breath at the words and their implication. His eyes dashed between Kenichi and Usagi; Usagi was started to sneak up on them, he could see now. He just had to keep this rabbit distracted. That was what he was best at!

“If I didn't know any better, I’d say you were ninja.”

“I am a ninja.” Leonardo stated proudly.

“Ah…” Kenichi sucked in a breath. “I would have never expected Usagi to stoop so low. The only good ninja is a dead ninja. Tell me. Are you ronin too?”

“No, I’m not ronin.” Leonardo answered, “My master is alive and well.”

“Oh?” Kenichi tilted his head. “I’ll have to change that.”

Kenichi charged forward, not caring to search for an opening anymore as he simply brought his sword down on Leonardo. Leonardo hadn’t been expecting such a straightforward attack, and he had only a few seconds to brace himself for it. When their blades were locked, Leonardo used the curve of his odachi to hook into Kenichi’s longsword and pry it from his hand, sending the sword flying off somewhere into the darkness. Leonardo’s eyes naturally followed the disarmed sword, and when he came back to look at Kenichi, it was with just enough time to witness the rabbit slash at him with a dagger. His knife cut across Leonardo’s shell, leaving a sharp lesion in it. Enough to hurt, enough to bleed. The shell did its job to protect Leonardo as he fell back and felt the hilt of his odachi leave his hand.

There was no time to go back for it. Leonardo had to scramble away backward to preserve his life as Kenichi jumped at him, flashing the small weapon. Eventually the samurai jumped on top of Leonardo, pinning the turtle under his knees as he brought the dagger forth, ready to slice Leonardo’s throat.

Before the slash could be made, Kenichi took a sudden, gasping intake. He was still for a moment and Leonardo didn't know what had happened. He brought his gaze down lower and witnessed the blade of his odachi slammed through the rabbit's stomach, slightly to the left side.

“Hold shit.” Leonardo stared.

Kenichi sucked in a choking breath. His hand went down to grip the wound, then came back out to look at the crimson staining his paw. He coughed, and blood started to pool from his mouth. It was spat over Leonardo in the seconds before the rabbit collapsed dead on top of him.

#fight!!

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ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa · 4 years

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Footprints in the Sand

Part 6: Conquest

Summary/Author's Note: This...this was a hard one to write. That's probably why it is about 1k words shorter than what I normally like. A lot of internal despair and heartache. this👏 chapter👏 is👏 painful 👏I'm👏 not 👏fucking👏 around.👏 I will fix it I promise. Rest assured, Oberyn gets to speak with Jaime in part 7...

Pairing: Oberyn x Ellaria x Reader Word Count: 2.6k Rating/Warnings: (R/18+) Mentions of: rape, murder, physical/mental abuse, children abuse/murder. Jaime Lannister is a bastard man.

(Parts) (1)(2)(3)(4)(5)

The ride back to the castle was just as awful as you knew it would be. You didn't have to be facing him to feel the arrogant smirk that Jaime wore as the two of you rode back to the red keep. Your humiliation was his joy, your suffering was his job well done. He may have acted upon the orders of Tywin Lannister but he did so with a joyful willingness that fueled his sadistic nature.

He reached up and took your hand as he helped you off of the horse. With shaking fingers, you haphazardly laced your bodice to try and look less disheveled as the two of you walked into the castle side by side.

"Is my Uncle really worried?" You asked, your voice sounding echoed in the stone hallways filled only by the heavy footfalls of the King's guard.

"He's worried because my father tells him to be." Jaime said flatly, his hand balanced on the pommel of his sword.

"So, Oberyn was right," you glanced at him, your mouth set into a hard frown. "This is Tywin's doing. Why does he care?"

Jaime grinned and looked at you. A small amount of surprise filled his soft blue eyes and it made your stomach queasy. "You don't know?"

"Know what?"

Jaime shook his head, letting his long blonde hair move side to side as he chuckled deep within his chest. "Oh, (y/n). You are still very much the ignorant child that I knew on the rock."

You glared at him and his words caused a wave of anger to rise up in your chest. It made you feel braver, more solid, and you held on to it tightly because it was better than the heartache you carried thinking about Oberyn and Ellaria.

"As fun as it is to stand here and be insulted," you gathered your skirts in your hands and met his gaze. "I'll retire to my room. Tell my Uncle I'm safe, just like he wanted."

You started to turn towards the stairs but Jaime reached out and grabbed your upper bicep, stopping you from leaving. He seemed to consider his next words carefully before looking to the guard at each of his sides and nodding them away. They bowed their heads slightly before taking their leave and walking in unison down the hall. Being alone with Jaime Lannister was not something you particularly wanted but you forced the rational side of your brain to take over. It wasn't like he could hurt you in a castle full of people. Was it? There was nothing he would stand to gain from that--and a Lannister rarely did anything if they didn't get something out of it.

"I want to show you something," he said, careful to keep his tone even and his smile pleasant.

"Jaime, I'm tired--"

"Oh, I bet you are."

You fought to keep the disgust out of your tone and failed miserably as you jerked your arm from his grasp. "You're disgusting."

"You can walk with me," he nodded down the hallway towards the throne room. "Or I can drag you." He looked back at you and shrugged under his armor. "The choice is yours but rest assured," he leaned in and lowered his voice with a smirk. "I'm happy either way."

You glared at him and knew out of the two options he would prefer the latter and you had already had your fill of being paraded around this morning. With a deep breath, you squared your shoulders and walked towards the archway that lead into the main hall of the red keep. His eyes lingered on your ass but you didn't give him the satisfaction of knowing that it gave you a chill down your spine.

The red keep was every bit as menacing and dark as its name suggested. The stone was dark, cold, unfeeling, softened only by the large, red banners that hung down from the rafters displaying the Lannister signet. A large stained glass window let in the overcast sunlight about every ten feet on the Eastern wall of the keep. Each window held a large lion in the middle, made of iron, standing up in its hind legs and roaring to the heavens. The Lannister's champion, a fierce, proud predator--a fearless leader. On the other side of the keep the pattern was repeated with a rearing stag, the symbol of Robert Baratheon, the current king of the seven kingdoms. The stag shared the keep with the lion because although he was king, it was no secret that Robert sat on the throne because of the Lannister's. They had given him everything--a wife in the form of Jaime's sister Cersei, an army, a kings guard, and in the end...a crown.

The room was empty and as Jaime shut the doors behind the two of you, the vast echo it created was unnerving.

"What is it you wanted to show me?" You asked, hugging yourself and rubbing your arms. It was freezing and, without your cloak or shawl, goosebumps covered your skin quickly.

"Forgive me, for this morning." Jaime started and the uneasy feeling in your gut started to grow. Jaime Lannister was not known for his willingness to apologize. "I only wish to protect you. Protect our family."

"I didn't need protection," you said bitterly.

"But you did," he said, looking at you with concern that you knew was fake. "You just didn't know it."

"What are you talking about?"

Jaime walked up the steps to the dais that held the iron throne. It was a menacing looking seat, covered in hundreds of swords and steel. Men had died for it, bled for it but Jaime touched it fondly like it was an old friend. "Do you know who sat on the iron throne before Robert?" Jaime asked without pretense and you looked at him skeptically.

"What does that have to do with an--"

"Do you know?" He pressed the question and you decided you would play his insufferable game.

"Aerys Targaryen. Why?"

"He had two sons. The oldest being Rhaegar Targaryen." Jamie said, turning around to you slowly as he continued to lean on the throne.

"Is there a point to this history lesson?" You asked bitterly but he ignored you for a question of his own.

"Do you know who he was married to?" Jaime asked.

"Lyanna Stark," you said flatly. "That's what started this war--."

"Wrong," Jaime shook his head and you looked at him perplexed.

"What?"

"Before Lyanna, who was he married to?"

"I don't know." You pinched the bridge of your nose in frustration. "I don't understand--"

"Elia Martell."

You felt your heart drop down through your rib cage like an iron weight. That couldn't have been right. If it was then surely you would have known, made some kind of connection, or Oberyn would have told you. Wouldn't he?

"What?" You whispered as a grin nearly split Jaime's face in two.

"So, you didn't know." He brushed his hair away from his face and looked at the iron throne. He nodded before continuing his lecture. "Elia Martell. Princess of Dorne and middle child between her two brothers, Prince Doran and," he paused to look at you making sure he didn't miss your reaction. "Prince Oberyn."

He walked back down the few steps and across the hall to stand close to you again. The smugness radiating off of him was suffocating. You tried to focus on breathing, collecting even amounts of air and not allowing your thoughts to run away from you. That's what he wanted. You kept your tone even and leveled your gaze with his.

"What does it matter?" You asked.

"It matters a great deal actually," Jaime chuckled. "She was next in line to be queen. She had two children, a boy and a girl."

"Why are you telling me this--"

"Silence." Jaime warned, putting his face right next to yours and grit his teeth. "When the fool Robert stormed King's Landing, my father's men took the castle. And do you want to know what they did to Elia and her children?"

You didn't. You didn't want to know but you couldn't pull yourself away. The intensity of his eyes told you he wouldn't let you leave until he was finished with you. Your stomach turned and you felt like you were going to be sick. Jaime grabbed you by the arms and started to walk you backwards.

"Knight Captain Amory Lorch found the little princess hiding under the bed. He dragged her out by her hair as she screamed for her mother and he stabbed her over fifty times."

You put your hands on his arms trying to push him away from you but he was so much stronger. You closed your eyes and shook your head. "Don't--"

"Ser Gregor Clegane found the young prince trying to protect his precious mother and the Mountain smashed his skull against the wall of this very room right in front of her eyes." He shoved you back against the stone wall and leaned in close to whisper in your ear. "Perhaps against these very stones."

"Stop!" You shoved him away from you and tried to run passed him but he was too fast. He grabbed you by the wrist and slammed you back against the wall. The action knocked the air from your lungs and caused you to gasp.

"Oh, but you haven't heard the best part!" He said with an excited lit to his voice that made you want to vomit. He laughed and it sent a chill through your gut as he reached up and grabbed you by the hair and started marching you back to the middle of the room. "Clegane took Elia Martell into this room." He tightened his fingers as you thrashed against him and whimpered as his grip on your hair became too much. "He tore off her clothes and he pinned her down and he raped her again, and again--"

"Jaime!" You yelled at him and kicked him in the shin, causing him to release his grip abruptly. You fell to the floor of the keep on your hands and knees with a grunt and he dropped to his knees to grip your upper arms. You fought him tooth and nail and he growled before giving in to his frustrations and slapping you hard across the face with the back of his hand.

You fell flat on the stone floor, your curls falling over your face as flashes of black filled your vision and pain blossomed on your cheekbone. You coughed quietly and curled up on your side, bringing a hand to your face and trying to wrap your mind around the fact that Jaime had just struck you. You knew he was angry at being sent to find you. You knew he was vile and full of himself and had a temper. But never in your life had someone hit you like he did now and the disbelief briefly held the pain at bay--but you knew it was waiting.

"Shh, Shh, come here," Jaime cooed and you felt terrified of him as he pulled you back into a sitting position and pushed your hair back from your face. You wanted to push him away, but you didn't want to risk more of his wrath.

"P-please, stop," you managed to whisper and he gripped the back of your neck, making you look at the patterned stone below.

"Elia Martell was murdered in this exact spot, (y/n). Clegane bashed her skull against these bricks once he had used up her body and he laughed as he did it." He whispered against your hair. "I should know, I was there. It took days to get her blood off of these stones."

He looked at you in a way that made you want to cover yourself with your own arms. Against your better judgement, you looked into his face and he grinned in response.

"Why do you think Oberyn didn't tell you?"

"I don't know," you tried but he wasn't having it.

"Don't be coy. The Lannisters are the reason his sister is in the ground. His niece and nephew died on the word of my father--your family. Our family did his a great injustice."

"He doesn't blame me--"

"Perhaps not. But I must hand it to him--what a slight to Tywin to fuck his niece in a whore house--"

You tried to push out of Jaime's grasp. He didn't know anything about what had happened between you and Oberyn in the last few days. How dare he try and taint what the three of you had had. Despite whatever happened in the coming days, they had been kind to you, they had opened their world to you--the thought alone caused tears to burn behind your eyes and Jaime saw it.

"Did you think he cared about you?" He asked with an open mouth smile. "Oh, dear cousin. You were nothing more than a conquest. A trophy for Oberyn Martell to put on his shelf until he can get the revenge against our house that he so desperately wants."

"You're wrong," you spat at him and he shook his head.

"You know that I'm not."

You wanted to stay on the floor of that keep forever. You wanted to be left alone to soothe the ache that had settled between your breasts and the throbbing of your cheek. A conquest. A trophy. A prize to be hung on a wall and left to collect dust. It wasn't necessarily something to be cherished--but forgotten about until something better came along. Is that what you were to Oberyn? To Ellaria? The thought made you want to sob because just this morning you had believed otherwise. You had let yourself believe their words, that they wanted your company, your thoughts, your presence. You let yourself believe that they had wanted you.

"Can I go?" You hated the way your voice sounded--so broken and small.

"Yes," he said simply, not bothering to help you as you got to your feet.

You finally allowed yourself to hug your own arms, to fold in on your own body for whatever little protection the action would offer. The only sound in the keep was your shoes clicking against the stone as you hurried for the door. You didn't even stop when you heard Jaime's voice call out to you.

"The feast tonight is the last of the week. You're expected to be there." He stood slowly and balanced his hand on his sword as he watched your retreating form. "Don't make me have to come and find you."

The door slammed behind you as you climbed the stairs to your bedchambers. Hot tears burned down their cheeks and once you were alone you let them fall freely. You wished you had never experienced the gentle kiss of Ellaria Sand. You wished you had never known the idea of going to Dorne, of a way out of this conventional life. You wished you had never met Oberyn Martell.

------

[Next Chapter]

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#prince oberyn #oberyn martell #oberyn x ellaria #oberyn x reader #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn x ellaria x reader #got #game of thrones #pedro pascal #pedro character fic #got fic

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f-nodragonart · 3 years

Text

Vertebrate Wings, PART 4: Positions

Return to main post + TOC >>HERE<<

Positions TOC

Folded Wings

I only just recently thought to add this section to the guide, after getting an ask about folded bat wings, so this is gonna be a bit brief until I figure out what I may need to expand on later.

For now, I’ll specifically focus on folded/tucked positions.

Folded Wings

All vertebrate wings follow the same basic principle when folded: LOWER arm on TOP of the upper arm. I would also argue that in most cases the ‘hand’ section will tuck underneath the arm, but this will also depend on body structure/position (as we’ll see with pterosaurs in a bit). Either way, that fact about the hand section at least holds true for bats and birds.

This is best visualized in simplified bird wings.

From the outside, a folded bird wing is practically just the lower arm, with the tips of the primary remiges sticking out behind.

The same can also be said for bat wings, with the lower arm being most visible. Here I’m using an example of bat-like wings folded up on a quadrupedal dragon.

But bat wings can also be tucked incredibly tight due to the flexibility of their bones/joints, particularly in the fingers.

So you may be able to tuck the fingers against the arm even tighter than I’ve drawn.

Also notice how the membrane ends up covering certain key sections of base anatomy in bat wings-- namely the ends of the fingers.

This makes it a bit confusing to keep track of how the membrane all connects together in different positions. While I describe membranes in more detail in the Membranes and Feathers section, I’ll at least point out one specific point of confusion for many artists.

This specific plagiopatagium section of the membrane attaches between the torso, back of the arm, AND the pinkie finger. Thus, when folded, this membrane will flow from the crease of the wrist, allll the way down to wherever the back edge ends on the body.

Also, since the fingers wouldn’t be obstructed by splayed hips like in real-life bats (for this particular body structure, at least), they don’t necessarily need to zig-zag scrunch like bat fingers. And I even think this particular quad body structure would allow the fingers to curl back up under the arms, like so.

However, I admit that the bend at the third joint may be too sharp, even for bat-like bones, so the full finger may still need to follow the line of the body.

But I do think either approach would work just fine for bat-like wings, so long as the fingers tuck under the membrane, and follow the overall line of the body.

Obviously this scrunching isn’t possible for bird feathers, so the tips of the primary remiges will always stick out a bit in folded bird wings

Also note that bat wrists have enough rotation to allow for different possible hand positions when folded

Bird wrists do NOT have any real ability for rotation, thus can only tuck sideways against the lower arm. I imagine that ptero wrists might also be stiff due to what I’m about to discuss, though I don’t know that for sure, so take it with a grain of salt.

Now the interesting thing about pterosaur wings is that they might have folded up in a way reminiscent of BOTH bat and bird wings. The exact structure of their membranes is discussed in more detail in the Membranes and Feathers section, but pterosaur membranes where embedded with cartilage fibers. This made their membranes stiffer and less flexible than bat membranes, but still obviously more flexible than bird feathers. So ptero fingers likely had far less joint flexibility than bat fingers, in order to hold that stiffer membrane steady.

Add in the fact that pteros walked upright on their wings, and we’ve got a creature whose hand section folds up OVER the main arm, with the single finger sticking out stiffly.

(via)

While the flexibility of certain joints is still a mystery to me, exdraghunt sent us some interesting info about ptero fingers, “The most flexible joint in a pterosaur’s wing was where the wing finger (Digit 4) met the ‘hand’ (Note that the other joints in digit 4 could not bend like the fingers of bat wings). I’m not entirely sure how flexible the wrist and elbow were in comparison. But the wing finger could fold almost completely against the ‘palm’, deflecting slightly to the outside”

I would argue that a creature with ptero-like wings but a different body structure that doesn’t use those wings for locomotion (like a quadrupedal hexapod), would likely fold their wings much more like a bird/bat-- with the hand section tucked underneath the arm, and the tip of the finger jutting out from underneath.

My final note about folded wings will be this: be mindful of comfortable, relaxed positioning. Note how I’ve drawn the bat-like wing in my examples-- elbow pulled up near the hips, but the wrist hanging down below the shoulder, closer to the front of the body. This keeps the wing elbows out of the way of the hind legs, but also allows the wing a comfortably loose position to rest in, pulled slightly down by gravity. There’s really no reason the wrist/lower arm should be pulled ABOVE the shoulder. Especially when the wings should naturally be based to the sides of the torso, to some degree, so holding the wings up on top of the back would put quite a lot of strain on the wings.

Even in birds, whose shoulders are based closer to the spine, tuck their wings in this loose, relaxed manner, NOT up above their shoulders.

-Mod Spiral

#wings #positions #mod spiral

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shippedwithmonsters · 3 years

Note

Okay, ready for Round 2?

*Sophie, gazing up at me with her head in my lap, yawning as I stroke her hair, points across the room to Rina, glowering in the doorway, looking hungrier for me than the actual vampire in the room. I smile warmly at her and pat the free space on the couch next to me and before I can blink, she's clinging to me, sharing my lap with Sophie. I bury my free hand in her hair and her eyes roll back...*

...okay so Rina's next.

Fond of not-necessarily-outright-villainous-but-still-100%-ready-to-kill-for-you F/O's?

Yup, that's her.

She's the closest I come to being into the yandere personality type, but she's not quite there.

She's devoted to the point of obsession, but not in the everyone-else-who-even-so-much-as-looks-at-you-has-to-die kinda way.

More like "I-love-you-more-than-the-whole-world-and-if-anyone-so-much-as-thinks-of-harming-you-they're-in-for-a-watery-grave"

Emphasis on "watery." She's a mermaid... ...in a black wedding dress... (I refer to her as a "Bride-maid") ...which she pretty much never takes off.

But for the real fun part of her design, I have to turn the lights out...

*Pulls on the tail of a third, yet to be gushed about F/O; it clicks like a light switch and her incandescence goes out like a light*

...her hair and bones glow in the dark, in a pretty neon turquoise/aquamarine color 😳

So all-in-all, she's a black-light-fluorescent/neon/glow-in-the-dark calavera-esque memaid bride in a black wedding dress (it's one of those mermaid-tail dresses, because of course, with slits for her flippers. I'll get to those.)

...She came to me, nearly fully formed, in a dream. So I call her my dream girl 😳

...but her actual name is "Marina Catrina Undine," or "Rina" for short. ("Rina-bina" when I'm feeling particularly lovey-dovey, which is often...)

In-universe, she's the construct that refuses to be dismissed, preferring to swim about in slipspace just beneath my S/I's feet, just waiting for someone to try to touch him.

In the soft domestic setting she enjoys the following:

-Bathing with me of course, but also breathing for me while cuddling with me underwater. (One of these days I'll finish an unbelievably-self-indulgent imagine involving this and some of the other activities in this list...)

-More massages, only this F/O's got a whole moderately-long and incredibly-sensitive mermaid tail for me to get my hands on. (It's an extension of her spine, so it's like starting at her shoulders and working my way down a lower back that doesn't end for several feet, and she moans all the way down to the tip, at which point she collapses, overwhelmed with pleasure...)

-Wrapping said mermaid tail around me several times, and squeezing gently (bonus points when there's already another F/O involved and she presses our bodies together and snuggles us off to sleep together...)

-Bridal carry. Of course.

-Spending the whole day locked in my bedroom with me, being held in her wedding dress as I whisper our wedding vows in her ear (fun fact: this was one of the first imagines I wrote)

-And her personal favorite, wrapping those flippers I mentioned around my waist as we bury our hands in each other's hair. Anatomically they're like whale flippers, except they're hind legs. They're flippers rather than fins because they're actually her legs, with fully formed leg/foot bones inside. I'm way too much of a (literal, unemployed, marine) biologist to go with the traditional depiction of mermaid-tails-as-legs, and her skeleton is very pertinent to her concept.

Like I said earlier, her tail extends from her spine, so her flippers stick out from her pelvis at 45-degree angles, and she balances on her tail... 😳 ...to emphasize this aspect of her design, she actually wears little thigh-high stockings on her flippers she's so adorable I can't

...also I'm currently writing a song about her 😳

Hey, I love not-necessarily-outright-villainous-but-still-100%-ready-to-kill-for-you F/Os! Honestly, what could be better?

And uh... A glow in the dark mermaid? My goodness... Amazing. Perfection.

I really need to write more something about my mermaid F/O...

She sounds so cool! Thank you for sharing!

#shipped with monsters

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changing-constantly · 3 years

Text

Telmarine Warrior Pt. 4

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Ship: (eventual) Peter Pevensie x reader

Warnings: animal death at very end

A/N: It only took me 4 chapters to realize I was spelling Telmarine wrong this entire time O_O well anyways I hope you enjoy and another chapter is in the works!

ALL CREDIT FOR NARNIA TO C.S LEWIS AND DIALOGUE (except from my OC) TO DISNEY

End of Previous Chapter:

“Beards and Bedsteads” the dwarf exclaimed to her right “maybe that horn worked after all…”

All eyes turned to him.

“What horn?” Susan asked

“Prince Caspian used it right before me and…” Y/n trailed off, looking awkwardly to the dwarf at her side.

“Trumpkin” he grunted

“…right before me and Trumpkin were taken by the Telmerains” she continued, looking between the siblings.

“I must have lost it on the hunt” Susan stated “when we…went back to England”

“How on Earth did it get in the hands of Telmarines?” Peter wondered, blue eyes flicking to Y/n. She raised her eyebrows, the suspicion in his voice not lost on her. While she couldn’t blame him for hating Telmarines, she did not appreciate being questioned after clearly almost being executed by her “kin”.

“All I know is our professor gave it to Prince Caspian before we ran away. How he got it, I don’t have a clue”

“And why did you run away?” Edmund asked suddenly. Y/n looked at him a moment before answering, considering how well she could trust the Kings and Queens of Old.

“Long story short, the Prince was in danger. He needed to get out of the city and since it’s my job to protect him with my life, I came too. We were separated when I got recaptured by the Telmarines and now I really need to get back to him”

“Can’t take care of himself?” Peter commented, prompting Y/n to glare at him. She didn’t think he was particularly magnificent so far.

“Well, we might as well get moving” Trumpkin said, gesturing to the boat “We have to tell the others about all this”

*** Silence filled the boat. The only sounds that could be heard were the steady swishing of Peters rowing and distant bird song. Occasionally a breeze would push through the forest, causing the leaves to rustle and sway above their heads. Y/n sat near the front of the boat with Lucy and Trumpkin while Susan and Edmund sat near the back. She looked around at the high cliffs surrounding the river, taking in the lush green canopy and misty waterfalls, astounded by its beauty. She had never gone farther than the fields surrounding Miraz’s Castle, where she had often practiced combat on her horse. Memories of riding with Caspian as a child filled her mind and she felt a prickle of anxiety from not knowing where or how he was. Suddenly, Lucy broke the silence,

“They’re so still.” She was gazing intently at the trees above. Trumpkin turned to look at her and then followed her gaze.

“They’re trees. What’d you expect.” He mumbled. Y/n noticed Edmund grimace sadly from the back of the boat.

“They used to dance.�� Lucy replied

“Wasn’t long after you left that the Telmarines invaded.” Trumpkin continued, “Those who survived retreated to the woods. And the trees, they retreated so deep into themselves that they haven’t been heard from since.”

Y/n felt a wave of shame wash over her. Shame for the damage her ancestors had caused. Shame for the thousands of lives they had taken. Shame for the blood that ran through her veins and armor she wore on her back. A large lump appeared in her throat.

“I don’t understand. How could Aslan let this happen?” Lucy furrowed her brows. Y/n vaguely remembered hearing stories of Aslan. Something about a great lion…

“Aslan? Thought he abandoned us when you lot did.” The four siblings turned their heads to look at the dwarf who quickly averted his gaze to the rippling water below.

“We didn’t mean to leave you know.” Peter said, and for the first time Y/n sensed humiliation in his tone. Trumpkin turned back around.

“Makes no difference now, does it?” He shrugged, defeated

“Get us to the Narnians… and it will.” Peter set his jaw determinately and began rowing a little faster.

*** Eventually, they reached a gravely beach. Rowing up to the bank, Trumpkin hopped out of the boat and started pulling it ashore with the rope. Lucy stood and followed, continuing down the beach. As Peter clambered out of the boat, he offered his hand to Y/n to help her get out. She stared at him for a moment, baffled, before climbing out herself

“I’m fine, thank you” she snapped, still annoyed at his previous statements about Caspian. They began to help Trumpkin with pulling the boat onto the rocky shore. Him, Peter and Susan using the rope while Edmund and Y/n pushed from either side.

“Hello, there!” Lucy exclaimed from behind them, causing all five to turn their heads. Immediately, Y/n’s blood went cold and her eyes widened. Lucy appeared to be speaking to a massive black bear while slowly making her way towards it. The bear grunted and stood up on two feet, eyeing the small girl.

“It’s alright. We’re friends!” She continued, moving even closer. Y/n looked, alarmed, at the three siblings next to her. None of them seemed very concerned by the situation

“What’s the matter with you three?!” She hissed suddenly

“Don’t move, your majesty” Trumpkin shouted, raising both hands in agitation. Lucy turned to look at him, her face etched with confusion. The bear roared and started to charge towards the tiny brunette, who whipped her head back around and began to run. Immediately the older siblings and Y/n rushed towards the boat to grab their weapons. Susan turned towards the bear with her bow drawn and shouted

“Stay away from her!” but didn’t release her arrow. Lucy tripped on the end of her dress and fell to the ground, mere feet away from the huge creature.

“Shoot, Susan, Shoot!” Edmund cried

The bear raised on its hind legs over Lucy as she shrieked in terror-

Thunk

An arrow found its way into the bear’s chest. It groaned in pain and collapsed next to Lucy. Y/n stood next to the boat; her crossbow, stolen from the Telmarine guards, drawn. Susan turned to look at her, an arrow still lodged in the string of her bow. Y/n lowered the weapon and started towards the small girls still sitting on the ground.

“Why wouldn’t he stop?” Susan questioned, lowering her bow as well

“I suspect he was hungry” Trumpkin huffed, also moving towards Lucy and the bears limp body. Peter and Edmund followed, Peter quickly picking their younger sister up and holding her close to his chest. She looked at Y/n and smiled briefly

“Thanks”

“No problem” Y/n nodded in response, smiling softly back.

Trumpkin made his way towards the body, examining it closely and prodding parts of it with his knife

“He was wild.” Edmund puzzled, looking to his brother

“I don’t think he could talk at all” murmured Peter

“Get treated like a dumb animal long enough, that’s what you become” Trumpkin declared matter-of-factly, “You may find Narnia a more savage place than you remember.”

He moved to slit his knife into the bears body, making Lucy turn into her brothers chest with a sob.

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howtowhumpyourhiccup · 4 years

Photo

CAUGHT IN A SNARE

Summary: Hiccup whump. A rumor causes Hiccup and Toothless to investigate an old Dragon Hunter base. An old, simple dragon trap gets the best of Hiccup.

Rating: Teen and up

Characters: Hiccup, Toothless

Pairing: None

Words: 2 550

Fandom: How to Train Your Dragon

Prompt: Caught In A Snare

Author’s Notes: Bad Things Happen Bingo Prompt: "Caught in a snare"

Whump server prompt: "Left in the heat".

Written for a prompt from @badthingshappenbingo. Really didn't know how to end this one.

Constructive criticism is appreciated!

Enjoy!

Ao3

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The problem with living in a part of the world that used to be on bad terms with dragons is that, sometimes, you can't help but come across some remains of that past.

During a particularly warm month, Hiccup finds himself taking some time away from Berk. Rumors have reached his ears that a small group of Dragon Hunters are trying to assemble again on the island that used to be Viggo's main base. It's been years since the man's death, but still some of them will try to revive a long dead empire.

But when he and Toothless land on the island in question, they find... nothing. The abandoned ruins of a camp some cages, even a wrecked ship, and nothing more. No sign that any humans have recently been here either. It looks like they'd come here for nothing.

Well, maybe it isn't entirely a loss. Any excuse to go flying is a good one.

But no matter how dead a camp may initially seem, sometimes the remains of it can be just as troublesome. Convinced that no one else is here, Hiccup isn't too worried when he sends Toothless to investigate on one side of the island while he takes the other, fully believing that they are both safe.

No one tell Snotlout, but he's been wrong before.

Wandering aimlessly into a forest, it's not that Hiccup suddenly runs into some Dragon Hunters, it's just that he finds a dragon trap leftover from when this place used to be occupied.

Covered in time by the passing seasons, Hiccup doesn't see the abandoned trap lying in wait for him as he descends down from a shallow drop with the aid of some rocks.

His gaze is drawn by some birds, feeling certain enough that nothing will be happening to him at this moment and that is when the fantasy of safety ends.

He steps in something and a tiny click is heard. Before he can even question it, a snare catches him around his ankle and quickly pulls the limb right out from under him. With a surprised yelp he falls backwards and conks the back of his head right on the rocks he'd used to get down in this little area. Pain explodes where he's been hit.

A second later he's at least a meter up from the ground, his body swinging while his brain pounds painfully inside his skull. He holds it, hands clasped together on the back as he hopes the movement stops soon.

"Oh, noo..." cringing, he feels his stomach churning while the world spins around him. He already feels like throwing up. Not one of his finest moments, that is for sure.

The swinging comes to a gradual halt. He waits for it to happen, fo rit to end, while he tries to breathe through the sudden migraine burning like fire in the back of his head.

He believes his hair to be wet, that something is seeping out from between his fingers and that something can only be blood. It won't be surprising after the hit he took.

Once he finally stops swinging, he holds his hands out in front of him to take a look and he sees them stained in his blood. That isn't immediately troubling as headwounds are known to bleed a lot. What he should really be looking out for is passing out from the wound and then proceeding to stay out for hours on end. That will be concerning.

Feeling the blood quickly rushing to his head, Hiccup looks at his ankle to see what he can do now that he is somewhat steady. Though the tree he's hanging from really shouldn't be spinning like this.

Unfortuantely for him, it's his right that is trapped. So fixing this situation isn't as simple as reaching out and removing his prosthetic.

Maybe that is a little bit of a blessing. That way he at least avoids a second hit to his head on his way down.

So he pulls his knife out of his left armbrace to see if he can cut through the rope. Years of abandonment has not weakened it much and as it's intended purpose was to catch dragons, it might be a bit time consuming to cut through it. It needed to be sturdy, after all.

But his hands are wet and sticky with drying blood and before he can even try to go for the rope, his knife slips out of his hands.

"What?! No!" He shouts as he tries to grab it as it falls. But his efforts are in vain, before long it's on the ground. All he manages to accomplish is a small cut on his thumb that is bound to be an annoyance as it heals.

"Oh, come on." He moans irritably. Gazing at the knife so tauntingly close and yet so far away, he can only come to the conclusion that there is no way he will ever be able to reach for it on his own.

"Toothless? Toothless!" He calls out to his dragon, hoping that the Night Fury is close enough and won't have to come running all the way from the other side of the island.

But he has good hearing and Hiccup knows this. So he can be certain that he's heard, at least.

"Toothless! Your Rider got himself in trouble! Again..." If Toothless ever wonders whether Hiccup tires of getting into situations such as these, he can rest assured knowing that, yes, Hiccup is just as annoyed with himself.

Oh boy, he feels himself becoming lightheaded, like he's about to pass out. A bad idea considering his current situation. Toothless may be too far away to reach him in time and that could potentially lead to worsening his situation.

It's hot, too, for the time of the year and the sky is nearly cloudless for once. There aren't many trees here for cover either and the sun's warmth is beating down on him.

Good for a nice day out, not so good when it is just hot enough to make your already bad headache even worse. If he doesn't do anything to get out of that rope now, he might be here a while, too.

Hiccup spots the Inferno strapped to his thigh. He sees it twice, as a matter of fact. All due to the blow to his head.

He reaches for it, core straining with his stomach threatening to spill his lunch, and misses the first time. Double-vision doesn't make this easy for him.

The second time he manages to grab hold of it, he succeeds and yanks it free. Falling back down causes the throbbing to become even more terrible and he squeezes his eyes shut for a moment and holds his head.

Oh, that hurt. Better not do that a second time.

But he has the Inferno now. And in spite of being a tool to communicate with dragons, it is still sharp enough to cut through the rope.

However, it's becoming black before his eyes and he has a hard time seeing what he's doing.

Is it because the blow to his head is finally catching up to him? Or because he's been upsidedown for much too long? Either way, he needs to get out of this before he passes out.

Unfolding the Inferno, he turns his attention to his ankle again, and it, too, slips from his grasp.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He's not aware that he passed out until it's much later when he wakes up to the same throbbing still going on in the back of his skull.

And something... nudging him?

Blearily opening his eyes, Hiccup comes to see a familiar black, scaly nose up close and sniffing his face. A smile spreads in recognition even when a slimy tongue licks his cheek.

That doesn't feel too comfortable. What is up with his cheek?

"Toothless?" He asks and his dragon purrs in relief upon having his Rider wake up.

"You found me, Bud!" Hiccup shares his relief. He feels hot and the sun is significantly lower in the sky than it was earlier. How long ago did he fall unconscious?

After making sure his Rider isn't about to pass out again, Toothless stands up on his hind legs. He is tall enough to reach the human's bound ankle. But the rope that ties him is pretty sturdy and Night Fury teeth are stronger than they are sharp. They simply weren't meant for things like this.

He comes back down on all fours and croons his apologies to his Rider.

"That's fine, Bud." Hiccup breathes and looks up at himself. He hadn't expected Toothless to be able to bite through those ropes. But maybe, if he weren't so dizzy and tired from the concussion that is without a doubt brewing inside his skull, he could simply pull himself up and reach it to get himself free.

What doesn't help is that all the blood has rushed to his head and that his knife if still on the ground, where his Dragonblade now also lies. Both lying in a big blotch of dried red in the dirt and on the grass.

Unless Toothless can pick it up for him.

Glancing back down below him, he spots his knife exactly where it has fallen earlier. And the blood on his hands has dried, so it won't slip out of his grasp again.

"Bud, the... can you grab the knife for me?" For a moment he needs to blink, teetering on the edge of passing out again. His eyes close and Toothless nudges his face to urge him to stay with him. Perhaps, he isn't as awake as he would like to be.

Hiccup points at the knife and the dragon grabs it with his left forepaw to hand to Hiccup.

Many dragons technically have two posable thumbs, Toothless included. After some practicing, he can grab things without the need to cover them in unwashable dragon saliva. The way he grabs the knife and gives it to him is still awkward, but that training has been fruitful.

"Thanks, Bud." He tells him and turns his attention back to the rope binding his ankle. He tries to pull himself up, but the move he pulled on Nepenthe to reach the cuffs on his wrists with his pegleg, he can't do here simply because he's too tired to.

Catching on, Toothless steps beneath him and sits up straight, supporting his Rider with his neck and back. When the dragon stands, Hiccup can finally reach his ankle and cut through the rope. His leg drops and he holds onto the saddle so Toothless can gently lower him.

Once low enough, Hiccup lets himself slide off the saddle and comes to sit on the ground.

His head's pounding combined with too much movement makes it even worse. So when he finally feels a solid surface beneath him after having been upsidedown for who knows how long, he allows himself to lie down. The world is still spinning dizzyingly fast all around him and makes him want to throw up.

Toothless rumbles and sniffs his headwound in worry. It has stopped bleeding all on its own and doesn't appear to be too bad with his shallow knowledge on human medicine. But Hiccup is certain, however, that he is suffering from a concussion. The terrible throbbing of his head, the dizziness, nausea, feeling too tired, that can only be a concussion. It's severity is yet to be decided.

"Give me a moment, Bud. If I don't pass out again, we can leave for home." He decides and Toothless croons understandingly. Lying on his side, blocking out the sun, he tries to take a moment.

There is something else wrong with him, too.

In a place as far North as the Barbaric Archipelago, that the sun can be a big threat may be overlooked sometimes, but Hicup is certain that he's feeling some of the consequences of being out of the shade for so long.

The shadows may have turned in his favor by now, but his face feels much too warm and so do his hands. Is he sunburned? He's certainly sweating inside his leather getup, that'll be fun when he has to change out of his clothes later, and the back of his hands certainly have a redder tint to them that isn't caused by blood.

"Am I sunburned, Bud?" He asks and swallows his dry throat. He could really do with some water.

Toothless responds in a way that Hiccup understands as a yes and he sighs before closing his eyes.

Great a sunburn on top of his concussion. Hopefully he hasn't managed to get a case of heat exhaustion from being out in the sun for hours. The sun can be such a deceptive element in such a cold place.

The dragon positions himself in a way to keeps the sun off him for however long his Rider will be lying there. Hiccup appreciates it, lowering his hand.

Though usually such a restless person, Hiccup just wants to stay down now. Doesn't matter that the ground is much too hard to lie on for longer than an hour, he doesn't want to stand or even sit. For once, he doesn't want to fly either. He feels like he might throw up if he does either of those things.

But he's made a decision and he going to stick to it. If he doesn't pass out again, they are flying back to Berk. There are plenty of islands and seastacks to stop on, on the way home. Besides, Sharpshot is enjoying a day off, so he's not here to help and Hiccup doesn't feel up for finding a new Terrible Terror willing to travel so far away from home just to help out a human.

No use staying here either.

Although, on second thought, his Dragon Riders are bound to get worried at some point and they know where he's headed. Maybe staying wouldn't be such a bad idea, after all.

In the end it's not his choice to make. He doesn't pass out again, but he does fall right asleep while trying to decide on what his next move should be. Toothless, noticing his Rider's even breathing and his relaxed face, comes to that conclusion and lies down next to him. His larger body still providing shade for Hiccup's.

He doesn't attempt to wake him up. Rest is good for a concussion, after all. It's good for any injury or illness. He would've liked to have gotten home sooner, but he knows that the Dragon Riders are bound to come for them eventually. In the meantime, Hiccup can rest.

They do come and much sooner than the leading Dragon Rider duo could've predicted. After all the times of Hiccup getting into all sorts of trouble, they know to hurry.

By then Hiccup has had some time to rest and is able to quieten his nausea enough to fly. And once back on Berk, Gothi confirms his suspicions and diagnoses him with a concussion. After some lectures from Astrid about going off on his own without Toothless with his kind of history, he is send to bed to sleep some more and he dozes off almost immediately.

#bad things bingo #httyd #httyd fics #hiccup #toothless #httyd movies #rtte #race to the edge #hiccup haddock #hictooth #dragon bros #whump fic #whump #hiccup whump #caught in a snare #head injury #head wound #sunburn #my fanfics

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drlahlahroo · 4 years

Text

A Rare Case

( SNK / Rivetra / Veterinarian AU )

Chapter 2

(read Chapter 1 here)

/////////////////

He knew she looked familiar.

She was that same ginger-haired girl he saw in a class in the university auditorium more than a year ago. Back then her hair was longer, neatly tied in a low ponytail, the color a stark contrast against the mandated forest green scrub-uniform that all the senior veterinary students wore. It had caught his eye from his place at the far back of the room, where he sat low in the corner most seat to avoid the attention of anyone, especially from the students below.

The large auditorium was one of the few places Levi would normally hideaway when he wanted to take a break from a busy hospital setting (much to the dismay of the dean) as it was mostly unused and empty, only ever reserved for large gatherings and conferences, so it was a surprise to him that a class was held in it when he arrived. It wasn’t even a large class; they had only occupied the first 5 rows. Because they were so few and too far for them to have noticed his presence, he had decided to stay and eavesdrop on their lesson. It was a clinical pathology class, he recalled. They were doing a case analysis.

She had stood in response to her name being called. Levi hadn’t been able to pick it up, not like he would remember it anyway.

“Based on the clinical signs and laboratory findings, what do you think is the probable cause of the canine patient’s sudden hindlimb paralysis?” He had heard their professor ask. Doctor Mike Zacharias voice was too deep and monotonous that Levi had to strain his ears just to listen from his distance.

The ginger student did not respond immediately, but Levi could see from his spot how her brows furrowed in deep thought. Aortic thromboembolism had been his answer, and that had just been from reading the notes in the PowerPoint presentation. The girl was taking her time, and he had started to think that she was probably a slow one.

Then a hand had landed heavily on his shoulder, and in his shock, he turned to find a grinning face. “Found you, Levi.”

“Fuck off, shitty glasses.” He had to say it in a hushed grumble to avoid the class from overhearing. “How long have you been sneaking behind my back?”

“Maybe a few minutes,” Doctor Hanji Zoe’s grin had only widened, which he always found annoying. The veterinary pathologist always did seem unaffected by his crudeness. “Erwin sent me to fetch you. Said he needs you back in the hospital pronto.”

He was about to go into a tirade, something about how Erwin would just have to suck it up and find some another doctor to deal with whatever boring routine procedure he had in mind, when a feminine voice had echoed through the auditorium walls from the rows below.

“I believe it’s due to an aortic thromboembolism, doctor.” The ginger-haired girl had finally responded.

“And can you explain what made you come up with that?”

“There are irregularities in the dog’s electrocardiogram, and its femoral pulse rate is not equal to the heart rate. It’s fifty percent weaker. Meaning blood flow to the posterior-most part of the body is weak. Something is disrupting blood flow to the hind legs, so it’s most likely a clot since the patient is negative for heartworm.”

Levi had turned his attention back to the girl and ignored his colleague, although he did notice that she also seemed to be drawn to the ginger’s explanation.

“Plasma D-dimer test is also highly elevated, which means the body is trying to break down a large clot somewhere. And to add to that, the patient’s history also states that he has Cushing’s disease or hyperadrenocorticism, which is known to increase clotting factors in the blood, as well as the likelihood of forming thromboembuli.”

Levi had raised an eyebrow at that. It was a particularly difficult case to analyze even for a student, but she was able to catch the necessary markers to pinpoint the disease condition.

Her thorough explanation had rendered everyone in her class to silence. All eyes were on her.

“Excellent, Miss Ral. You may please take your seat.” He heard the proud undertones in Mike’s voice. There was a short burst of clapping and praises from the other students as she sat back down, rubbing the back of her neck, embarrassed from all the attention.

From behind him, Hanji had whistled, impressed. “Oh, it’s her. The interns back in the lab said she’s the top of her class. They weren’t kidding. Damn, that was a great response! She’s a smart kid.”

Ral. Levi repeated the surname in his head as he watched her from his corner. The lecture had continued and her attention was back to the topic, but he had noticed that, despite her previous display of bashfulness, she still wore a wide, proud smile on her face.

And that same wide, proud smile was displayed before him right now as she stood at the entryway of his office.

“ALT is elevated.” Petra declared, waving the lab results before him.

The leather of his chair creaked as he straightened from his previously lax position, then he reached for the paper presented before him.

“All other values are within normal range, except for the liver function test, so it’s a hepatic issue.” She continued, watching as he scanned the lab results with a rather bored expression.

“Platelet count is high.” He said, dropping the paper on his desk before turning to her.

Petra shrugged a shoulder. “Platelet count that's higher than normal isn't exactly significant.”

“Anything that’s not normal is abnormal, Ral.” He stood from his chair and turned towards a whiteboard that hung from the wall across the desk.

Petra watched as he retrieved a black marker and started writing “High ALT” and “Thrombocytosis” on the whiteboard. Above the 2 new additions, he had already written down “Right-side abdominal enlargement” and “Weight loss with appetite”.

“You didn’t include hepatomegaly,” Petra said as she approached the board.

“Not until I see the x-ray.” Levi lowered the marker and turned to her, eyes narrowing slightly. “Don’t assume something without completing the evidences first. A right-sided abdominal enlargement can easily be any abdominal organ other than the liver and a high ALT can be caused by other stressors to the liver.”

She crossed her arms and once again rolled her eyes at him. She’s stubborn, he can tell. She oddly reminds him of himself.

A sigh escaped his lips. Levi leaned back on the edge of his desk and crossed his arms. He stared up at those amber eyes, deciding to humor her with her suspected diagnosis.

"All right then. Assuming there is hepatomegaly, then what would you do next? An enlarged liver isn’t exactly a definitive diagnosis. Nothing in the dog’s signs and lab results would explain how the liver got big.”

This caught Petra off guard, and she uncrossed her arms and furrowed her eyebrows in deep thought. It was the same look she had on as she contemplated the answer to that case question back in the auditorium.

Just like before, she took quite a while to respond.

“We’ll check for possible causes of hepatic inflammation.” She began.

“Inflammation means infection. There’s no elevation in white blood count.” He stated matter-of-factly.

“It doesn’t have to be an infection. Certain toxins could also cause the liver to be inflamed.”

“With that much toxin to swell up a liver then his kidneys should be failing. Creatinine is within normal range. Besides that, there’s no indication of pain. It’s not inflammation," He raised his chin at her. "If all you’re going to do is list down the differentials then you’re wasting your time.”

Petra’s lips tightened and the crease between her eyebrows deepened. She turned away from his scrutinizing gaze and focused her eyes on the words written on his whiteboard.

All the while, Levi continued to watch her mental struggle. Of course, he already had an answer to his question. Even if he didn’t think this was truly a case of hepatomegaly, there was still something that would at least support her diagnosis. If she was as smart as Hanji and Erwin had claimed, she would have seen it as well. Maybe not as quick as he did, but she should be able to see it.

And when she did saw it, Levi saw that unmistakable determined fire that seemed to lightened her amber orbs.

“It’s a tumor,” she finally responded, “Elevated platelet count is a strong indicator of cancer.”

A sudden silence fell between them. Petra waited for a response from him, one that would try to rebuff her findings, but as none came, the corner of her lips tugged up slightly in a small smile.

Eventually, Levi stood straighter, slipping his hands in his coat pockets. He didn’t keep his eyes off her. “Tell the brats to hurry up with the patient’s x-ray. If it’s the liver, do a biopsy.”

Petra turned away and started walking out of his office, still wearing that proud smile on her lips. Levi trailed slowly behind her, stopping just by the door frame to watch her walk towards the lobby.

He stood there for a minute, playing back the previous debate in his head. He’d have to admit, Petra truly was a smart one, but not quick enough to gather her thoughts. That would be rather disadvantageous in emergencies, but he supposed he could let it slide for now. She’s young. She’s new. She’ll get better.

His musings were disrupted by the sound of loud barking. Normally, he was used to the various animal noises that were normal in a veterinary hospital, but for some reason, his attention had peaked at the particular sound. The barking was deep, as if coming from a large dog, but it was rough and aggressive. He turned to the noise, suddenly realizing that it was coming from the same direction Petra had walked into.

He pulled himself away from the doorframe and walked to the source of the barking, and as he got closer to the lobby, he could hear a few voices in between growls. Curiosity and uneasiness settled in the pit of his stomach.

When he reached the lobby, he saw the familiar pet owner from Exam Room 8 trying to pull back on the leather leash of the same Golden Retriever Petra had attended a few hours ago. However, the previously affectionate dog was now baring his teeth at another client, who held on to a small poodle in her arms, trying to back away at the larger canine. Petra stood in between the confrontation, while Eren and the few other interns tried to move the other owner away to a safer distance.

“I-I’m so sorry! I don’t know what’s wrong with him!” The retriever’s owner cried out, struggling to keep hold of the leash.

“Spark, calm down, boy,” Petra said in a soothing tone, getting down on one knee and lowering her arms in a way as if she was inviting the dog into her arms. But her attempt at calming down the animal was overpowered by its hostile snarls. “Is he normally this aggressive when seeing other dogs?” she addressed towards the owner a little louder.

“N-no! He has never harmed anyone or another –”

At that moment, the dog had pulled hard enough that the leash slipped from the older woman’s grasps, and it began to charge. But instead of rushing to leap up at the smaller dog that was pulled away to the far corner, it turned its eyes to the female vet crouching on the floor.

She tried to pull back quickly, but the dog was quicker. It gave one more snarl before rushing to her with jaws wide. Petra braced herself, closing her eyes and raising her right arm to protect her face, just in time to feel a pull on her sleeve.

Then she heard a tumble, a yelp followed by suppressed growls. Petra opened one eye nervously.

Doctor Levi was crouching on the floor. One of his arms was around the Retriever’s neck in almost a chokehold, while the other arm held down its torso in a manner that pinned its hind legs on the floor. It was the classic method of restraint used to steady a large dog, though Levi seemed to be adding more strength than usual. Petra noticed that despite that rather forceful embrace he had on the animal, he still avoided adding pressure to the right side of the body, where the bloating was defined.

“Get a muzzle!” the dark-haired vet cried out like an order, and suddenly the interns, who were previously dumbstruck at the situation, scrambled about, grabbing a muzzle from the nearest exam room. All the while, Levi stared down at the dog’s dilated pupils. His intimidating stare had somehow slowed down the dog’s manic state, and its growls slowly lowered in volume, until all it could muster were anxious yelps.

Eventually, one of the interns managed to fix the muzzle over its snout. When Levi deemed it safe and that the patient’s aggression had died down, he slowly slipped his arms off its body, but kept one hand over the dog’s nape, keeping its body low on the ground.

He then started shouting instructions to each intern, but it all sounded incoherent in Petra’s ears because the quick beating of her heart was too loud. The hand which was previously raised to protect her face lowered to her chest. She could feel the rapid thumping beneath her palm as she slowly stood up from the floor.

Then she felt a strong grip on her elbow. It took her a minute to realize that it was Levi’s hand, and before she could turn to him, he had pulled her away from the lobby and dragged her into the hallway. Then it took her another minute to realize that he had pinned her to the wall next to his office door.

Levi glared at her. The same glare he used that rendered that dog to silence, and Petra stilled.

“What the fuck was that?” He almost snarled. “You’re an idiot to go down face level with an aggressive animal.”

She swallowed thickly. “I… I was trying to calm it down…”

“By offering it a hug? You should know it doesn’t work like that. Just because an animal was friendly to you doesn’t eliminate the fact that it can still bite your face off if it wanted.”

Petra bit her lower lip and lowered her head. In embarrassing situations, she would normally clutch her wrist nervously, but the action caused a painful sting to run up her arm. Levi had noticed her sudden reaction, even when she tried to hide it. Reaching down, he took hold of her right arm, raising it to eye level, where the sleeve lowered down to reveal a bite mark just below her wrist.

He clicked his tongue, irritated. Petra was once again pulled away from the hall and back into his office.

“Sit.” He told her, or rather ordered her, as he shut his office door close.

Petra stood for a while, watching as he shuffled behind his desk, pulling something out from one of the drawers. Not wanting to get into his bad side again, Petra hesitantly sat on the adjacent seat in front of his desk. It was then that she noticed the box he had pulled out was a first aid kit.

He then sat across from her, sighing in exasperation. He took a moment to himself, massaging the space between his eyebrows, before offering a hand, indirectly telling her to show him her wounded wrist.

Petra did so after rolling back her sleeve. Levi’s fingers encircled her wrist in an oddly gentle manner, very different from when he grabbed her by the elbow a while ago, as he inspected the wound.

“It’s a shallow bite. Managed to nick you enough to bleed but it’s not a big deal.” He said, showing her the four indents on her skin, clearly from the dog’s canines. “Guess I managed to pull him back before he chomped down hard enough. Still, expect some bruising.” He said as he began to wipe her skin with an alcohol swab. Petra tried not to hiss.

A silence ensued as his nursing of her bite wound continued. Petra tried to hide the severe flushing of her face by turning to face the whiteboard instead. She was deeply ashamed of her naïve attempt in handling the previous situation, but was also embarrassed at her proximity with the dark-haired vet and his gentle ministrations with a wound that she could probably tend to on her own.

“I’m sorry.” She apologized with a sigh, “I shouldn’t have crouch down like that, it probably provoked him some more. No wonder he decided to come for me.”

Levi was in the middle of applying an antibiotic cream over her wound when he responded. “Yeah, you were an idiot. But your stupidity did reveal another symptom.”

Petra looked up at him suddenly, eyebrows furrowed. “What?”

“The dog’s vaccinated against Rabies, right?”

Levi heard her gasp and felt her hand stiffen and shake in his hold.

“You think the sudden aggression is due to Rabies? Are you trying to scare me? Because Rabies isn’t a joke!” She replied with a hint of fear in her tone.

“Stop fidgeting and just answer the damn question, woman.”

“The patient’s vaccinated! There’s no way its Rabies.”

“Then there you have it. You ruled out Rabies then.” Levi grumbled as he pulled her wrist back so he could start bandaging it up. “What else causes sudden aggressive behavior in dogs?”

“You think it’s a symptom?”

“Owner said the mutt was never aggressive towards other animals and humans before. Which means it’s a new symptom.”

Petra once again furrowed her brows in thought, looking up at the ceiling. “High testosterone levels.” She concluded. However, he heard the doubt in her tone, and he looked up at her with a raised brow, because she never sounded so doubtful from their previous exchange. He watched her rubbed her chin with a finger as she continued to think. “But… the patient’s neutered.”

Levi lets go of her now bandaged wrist. “When was he neutered?”

“The owner has no idea. She adopted Spark from the local shelter 3 years ago. Their previous vet noticed that the dog didn’t have testicles, so he was probably neutered before he ended up in the shelter.”

“And you confirmed he’s neutered?”

“Of course. I checked him.”

Levi hummed to himself as he leaned back on his chair. He stared up at the list of clinical signs written on the whiteboard, deep in thought. Petra watched him and could almost see the gears turning in his head. Meanwhile, she was too stumped at the new information to think of any more differential diagnoses to add on the list.

“Maybe… the aggression isn’t significant at all. Maybe the dog was just stressed out.” Petra said softly but doubtfully, “Besides, it doesn’t add up with everything else. It doesn’t explain the abdominal enlargement, or the elevated ALT, or the platelet – ”

Both of them turned to the sound of knocking. Eren slowly opened the door, peeking into the office. At the sight of the ginger vet, the boy’s green eyes widened in concern. “Doctor Ral, are you alright? We saw the dog bit you.”

Petra beamed him a reassuring smile. “I’m fine, Eren. It was just a nip. Nothing to worry about.”

There was a look of relief in his face, which quickly morphed into fear when he finally noticed the other person in the room.

“What do you want, Yeager?” Levi chimed in with an annoyed scowl, standing up and walking towards the door.

The intern ducked his head a bit, as if trying to hide away from the intimidating glare. “I-I’m sorry for intruding, Doctor Ackerman. But radiology wanted me to hand this to Doctor Ral.” He raised a large manila envelope, which the dark-haired vet quickly snatched away.

“About fucking time,” Levi mumbled, stepping aside to check inside the folder, confirming that the x-ray films belonged to their patient.

“Thank you, Eren.” Petra once again smiled at the male intern before he left in a hurry, shutting the door close. She then turned to the other person in the room, scowling at him. “You should stop scaring him like that. He’s a sweet kid.”

He ignored her, opting to pull out the films from the envelope. He approached an X-ray view box installed next to the whiteboard, flipping a switch to light up the box. Petra squints her eyes at the sudden flash of white light in front of her.

One by one, Levi clipped the films over the white surface, so that it highlighted the more translucent areas of the radiograph. Once he was done, he stepped back to get a full view of the mystery of the case.

Petra’s gaped slightly at what she saw. Just below the ribs cage was a large opaque mass that extended to most of the right of the body. It was large enough to push aside the other organs. “Is that the entire liver?”

Levi hummed, walking closer to the view box. “No. The edges are too smooth.” He raised a finger, and used it to trace the outline of an almost triangular organ in the large middle portion of the mass. “See the angular edges? This part is the liver.”

Petra had stood and drew closer to the view box, standing by the right of the male vet as she followed the movement of his finger. “Why is it… smaller?”

“It’s not. It’s the normal size. Just very compressed.”

She watched as his finger moved away from the angular shaped part and to the smoother shaped right half of the mass. “This part over here is causing the right abdominal enlargement.” He traced what appeared to be two large ovoid masses right beside the liver.

“Is that…” she paused, gaping at the images before here. Levi watched the shocked expression on her face, and he wasn’t sure if the spark in her eyes was from the light reflecting from the view box, or the sudden realization as the puzzle pieces finally started to fit together.

“You were right about one thing,” He said softly, still observing the amber glow of her eyes. “It’s a tumor… Just not on the liver.”

End of Chapter 2

Medical Terminologies:

Aortic Thromboembolism: a disease process wherein a thrombus (a large clot) is formed in the heart and later breaks off to travel through the aorta, which is a large artery that supplies blood to the abdomen and the organs there, as well as the legs, until it reaches an artery with a diameter too small for it to pass through, causing a blockage in blood flow.

Electrocardiogram (ECG): a test which measures the electrical activity of the heart, indicated by a pattern of waves printed on paper or displayed on a screen.

Heartworm: a parasitic worm which inhabits the heart and the blood vessels of dogs. It is transmitted by mosquitos.

Plasma D-dimer test: a blood test which detects of the amount of a protein called D-dimer, which increases when a clot is being broken down.

Cushing’s Disease (Hyperadrenocorticism): a serious condition wherein the adrenal glands produce too much of the steroid hormone cortisol.

Thrombocytosis: a high platelet count.

Rabies: a highly fatal viral disease in that causes brain inflammation in humans and other mammals. Dogs with the virus show sudden neurological symptoms like disorientation, seizures, and aggression. The virus is passed through the saliva and causes death as quickly as 10 days. There is no cure, but is 100% preventable through vaccination.

A/N: Ok, so I thought I could fit this entire story within 2 chapters, but it appears to be much longer than I originally planned. Which is great, I suppose. Everyone’s always happy with an extra chapter hahaha! Chapter 3 would hopefully conclude this story, but you never know. Wink wink.

And as usual, no actual due date for the next update, but let’s see if I can get it up by next week. Until then, always vaccinate your pets!

#rivetra #levi ackerman #petra ral #veterinarian AU #veterinarian #veterinary au #fanfic #attack on titan #snk #aot

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pengychan · 4 years

Text

[Coco] Mind the Gap, Pt. 19

Title: Mind the Gap Summary: Modern Day AU. Tired of Ernesto’s snide remarks, Imelda decides to put him in his place and her husband is more than happy to help. It was supposed to be a one-night deal. Things quickly get out of hand. [OT3, mostly porn and humor. Plenty of instances of Ernesto being Dramatic, Imelda getting Sick Of His Shit, and Héctor trying to be the peacekeeper. Don’t expect anything serious.] Pairings: Ernesto/Héctor/Imelda Rating: Explicit.

Art by @swanpit.

[All chapters are tagged as ‘mind the gap’ on my blog.]

A/N: Kind of sucks when your brain tells you one thing and your heart another entirely, doesn't it.

***

“... And they chewed through all the cables!”

“They never do that at ho--”

“Say that one more time, and I’ll strangle you. With the cables.”

“Didn’t they chew--”

“I bought new ones. Which you’re going to pay for. Immediately.”

Ernesto opens his mouth to protest, but before he can get in another word Sofía slaps something against his chest - a full list of expenses that he supposes he will have to pay back. Dog food, of course, cables, some toys to keep them from destroying the cables, new leashes when they chewed through the leashes, a new cover for her couch when they destroyed it, a new pillow, dog shampoo, pet-safe nail polish-- wait a moment.

“Did you give them spa treatment or what?” Ernesto asks, glancing down at the chihuahuas. They're all on their hind legs, pawing at him and yapping for attention. Come to think of it, Clara looks particularly fluffy and the others have really shiny fur, and… she’s actually painted their nails. He blinks, and looks back at Sofía.

A shrug. “They’re good boys and girls. They deserved it.”

Well, Ernesto can agree with that assessment, of course, but he didn’t expect it to come after a long list of their supposed misdeeds. “Didn’t they wreak havoc--”

“Not their fault if their stupid master didn’t bother to train them properly.”

“They never did that before,” he protests despite the very real threat of strangulation. “They missed me!”

Sofía rolls her eyes. “Clearly,” she mutters, but smiles a bit. “So now take them back and don’t drop them on me like that ever again.”

“I won’t,” Ernesto promises, crouching down to let his dogs lick his hands and face. There is a chuckle above him.

“... Well, did it help, being off for a bit?”

Ernesto nods, still petting his dogs. “Yes. Guess it did.” He doesn’t feel like going over his visit to Santa Cecilia again - or explain yet again that yes, his father was indeed stone sober - so he keeps it vague. “I needed some time away.”

“And, the situation with…?”

“We sorted it out.” Ernesto stands with an armful of dogs. “We’re okay. It’s over, but we’re okay.”

He ignores the dull ache in his chest as he says it’s over aloud. Of course it stings, and will keep stinging, but it will get better, eventually. They are the closest to okay they can be. It will get easier.

“That’s good.” Sofía looks relieved. “Back on the market, then?”

“Guess I am.” Ernesto smiles but ah, it feels fake to his own ears. He clears his throat and nods towards the table where he left his phone, still holding up his dogs. “Can you take a photo? For Instagram.” He smiles again and this time it comes easier. “My fans were getting worried.”

Sofía rolls her eyes. “Ay, all four of them?” she jokes, but picks up the phone. “All right, smile.”

Ernesto tries to smile, but the dogs do their best to lick his mouth and he has to pull back his head, laughing. The photo catches him mid-laugh and it’s… not bad. Not bad at all. He uploads it with a chuckle, pays Sofía for her trouble, and he’s off with his dogs in tow. It’s nice to have them back, to be back. Something still aches, but it was to be expected. It will get better, in time.

It must.

***

“Are you sure it won’t hurt you?”

“I’m sure.”

“What if it hurts the baby?”

“It won’t hurt the baby.”

“What if I hit her with my--”

Imelda groans, dropping her head on the pillow and shutting her eyes, with half a thought of biting it in frustration. Above her, Héctor is the very picture of parental anxiety. “Héctor,” she mutters, her voice tight. “We have been through this. Well-endowed as you are, you cannot hit the baby with your penis.”

“Ah. Right.” A nervous chuckle, a pause. “... So you think I’m well-endowed?” he asks, sounding just a touch coy now. Imelda looks up at him, unimpressed.

“You are, mi amor, and I would really appreciate you putting it to use,” she almost growls, pushing back against him. “Now would be a good time, considering it’s the last night we have the house all for ourselves,” she adds.

With her brothers coming over the next day to stay in the guest room, so that they can start learning how to make shoes and then help her set up the shop she has just rented, it may be… a good, it will be a while until they are able to enjoy a full night like this without any worry of being overheard. And Imelda has no intention whatsoever to let it go to waste.

“Right, right.” Héctor clears his throat. “And, uh, would love to-- I just--”

For fuck’s sake.

Imelda groans and sits up with more difficulty than she’d like, grasping his cheeks and bringing her face a scant inch away from her husband’s. “Héctor,” she spells out. “Do you want me or not?”

“What!” he sputters, like she just casually asked whether or not Earth is round. “Of course I want-- agh, this looks bad, I’m sorry, that’s not it at all! You look amazing-- even more amazing-- I just…” a pause, and he swallows. “Sorry. I know it can’t harm the baby. I just, well, I worry.” A sheepish grin. “You know.”

Imelda sighs. Of course she knows; Héctor is still half-expecting to mess up somehow, and Imelda supposes it is not a fear easy to look past. “Trust me,” he says, letting go of his jaw to cup his cheek. “There is no risk.”

A smile, and he turns his head to kiss her palm. “I trust you with my life,” he says, before leaning in to kiss her. “But let me try something else…”

“Something else?” Imelda tilts back her head when his lips trail lower, letting him kiss her throat. Her breathing grows a little faster, the aching need between her legs a little more urgent. Héctor’s mouth moves down her chest, over her breasts and oh, right, she’s more than willing to see where he’s going with this.

Plus, may as well let him enjoy her breasts until someone else claims them for the next few months.

His mouth trails down her stomach, over the bump - oh God please do not let him turn into mush at the thought of being a father again, it is very sweet and all but right now she is so horny - and then, thank God, lower down. With a long sigh, Imelda parts her legs, grasps the sheets, and lets Héctor go about it his way. She has no complaints, now.

Her husband has more good uses for his mouth and tongue than just singing.

It’s… not the most passionate of nights, but it is sweet. Imelda’s senses are still numbed by the ripples of her orgasm when she pulls Héctor down on her, kisses his mouth, reaches down blindly to grasp him and stroke, a thumb brushing the tip. She finds him hard, and he lasts little under her touch; he comes with a shudder and a soft moan he muffles against her lips before he sinks beside her, pulling her close.

Imelda chuckles, leaning into the warmth. “Feeling better now?” she asks, resting her head on his chest. She feels him smile into her hair.

“What color is the sky? Ay mi amor, ay mi amor…” he hums, and settles down with a content sigh, an arm around her. The hand rests on the bump and Imelda smiles, covering it with her own. It’s cozy, warm, just right. Everything as it should be: the two of them and their baby on the way, Héctor’s first album about to launch, the lease for the shop she’s looking to open to expand her business signed, her brothers coming over to help and start learning a viable trade.

Everything is moving in the right direction. Everything is in place.

Or almost. Something about their bed feels out of place - like it’s too large.

Don’t. Don’t go there, you know why it is, don’t.

It would be the wise thing to do, keep her eyes shut and avoid looking at the empty space beside them, but she doesn’t. She opens her eyes, and looks at the spot where Ernesto would usually rest, leaning close to them. And ah, it stings.

It could never work. We are friends again. It is for the best.

Imelda briefly wonders if Héctor ever looks at the gap beside them, too, thinking the same, but she doesn’t ask. Some things are best left unspoken.

Imelda closes her eyes not to look, shifts a little in her husband’s warm embrace, and focuses on nothing else.

Ernesto keeps staring at the ceiling for a good while after his dogs have fallen asleep.

He knows it’s not a good idea. He should be trying to sleep, shouldn’t be thinking about Héctor and Imelda a couple of floors up, sharing the bed he will never be welcomed in again. Except that of course, that is exactly what he’s thinking about.

His bed is not empty because his dogs all climbed on it, of course, not about to let him out of their sight a second after he went seemingly missing for days, but it is… definitely not the same thing.

He could go out and find someone to spend the night with, call some of the numbers he still has on his phone - he never had trouble getting someone in bed, after all. It was the norm, up to just about a year ago; find someone to have a good time for the night, part ways in the morning, possibly stay in touch to meet up again for another pleasant night.

A few people met that way he’d become friends with - Sofía was one - but in most cases, he barely remembered their names, and mostly only recalled their bodies with clarity. It had been a simpler time, uncomplicated. No string but those of his guitar, he said. He would go back to that.

Only the thought didn’t appeal to him at all, now.

What’s the point?

A sigh, and Ernesto closes his eyes. He needs time, that is all, to get used to this new normal. Eventually, it will be just like the old normal. And he did enjoy the old normal, he tells himself.

He just needs to remember how to.

***

“Why does your cat hate me?”

“Huh?” Héctor looks up from the string he’s tuning to follow Ernesto’s gaze. The damn cat in question is looking down at them from the top of a bookcase or, rather, staring straight at Ernesto. Her eyes are narrowed, to slits of pure malevolence, tail whipping the air.

As though he sees none of that, Héctor chuckles.

“She doesn't hate you.”

“She’s glaring at me.”

“No, she’s not.

“That is a glare. ”

“Believe me, if she hated you I’d be calling an ambulance for you right now.” Héctor laughs, focusing on tuning the guitar again. “You just think all pets should behave like dogs.”

Ernesto grumbles, still keeping an eye on the beast - who, from her part, seemingly decides she’s had enough of making him uncomfortable for the afternoon. She stretches, yawns, and jumps off the bookcase onto the windowsill to lay down. The window is open, to allow her to jump on the tree right by in case she wants to--

Wait a minute.

“Héctor-- Imelda’s pregnant. ”

That causes him to blink, looking up at him. “... Well, we’ve known that for a while.”

“And you’re still letting her go out?”

Héctor blinks again, at a loss. “She’s just checking on the twins putting together furniture in the new shop and getting some groceries, it won’t be long and it’s good for her to stretch her leg--”

“What-- not Imelda , idiota! The cat!” Ernesto gestures towards Pepita, who seems on the verge of falling asleep. “She could be catching and eating mice or rats, and what if she catches toxoplasmosis?”

“Toxo-- what?” Héctor clearly has no idea what that is, but the name and Ernesto’s tone worry him enough to pull out his phone and search. He reads on, his gaze going from perplexed to mildly concerned - markedly more concerned once he reads it can be passed on to humans - and Ernesto knows he’s reading what happens if it’s caught during pregnancy when all color drains from his face.

He’s not especially surprised when Héctor jumps to his feet. “We must take her to the vet to check,” he urges. “Now.”

“... Can’t we wait until Imelda gets ba--”

“Now!”

The struggle to get Pepita into the cat carrier is brief, but oh is it vicious, and Ernesto takes great care to hold the carrier as far as he can from his body while Héctor tries to coax Pepita in at first, then wrestles her. He had no idea a cat could make such a vast array of unpleasant noises. Ernesto suspects he’ll keep hearing a few of them in his nightmares; on the doorway, both his dogs and Dante are observing the scene in utter confusion.

By the time Pepita is in the carrier, which jumps and clatters as she throws herself against the bars, Héctor looks like he might need medical attention himself, scratched-up and with his shirt in tatters.

“You might want to disinfect--” Ernesto begins, putting down the carrier carefully and taking a step back for good measure, but is immediately silenced.

“Later, I’m calling the vet to let him know we’re coming,” Héctor cuts him off, waving his free hand as he searches for the vet’s number. Ernesto sighs, and glances down at the carrier. Pepita stares right back at him, and hisses.

You’re going to regret this, that furious hiss tells him, and Ernesto suddenly wishes he never mentioned toxoplasmosis in Héctor’s presence.

“All right, we can go in immediately!” Héctor declares, ending the call and picking up the carrier.

Like being told we can’t go in immediately would have changed your mind, Ernesto thinks, and follows him through the doorway, almost to the front door. Almost , because they’re still a few steps away when the door opens and Imelda steps in, holding up a grocery bag so that Dante - and Ernesto’s dogs, too, but mostly Dante - can’t get to it.

“Héctor, can you get this to the kitchen for me? I need to... sit down just a...” Imelda’s voice slows as she takez in the scene - Pepita screaming from the carrier in Héctor’s hands, her own husband looking like he’d just crawled back from battle, and Ernesto pretending to be very busy smoothing down his shirt. “... Moment?”

“Imelda!” Héctor cries out, and lets the cat carrier fall, getting a literal howl of fury out of Pepita. He grabs both of her hands, including the one still holding the groceries, before she has time to voice any objections. “Mi amor! Are you feeling all right?”

She blinks. “What’s gotten into--”

“Aches? Fatigue?”

“I’m pregnant, of course I am-- the cat, what--”

“Headaches?”

“Por Dios, you’re giving me a headache right now!” Imelda groans, and turns to Ernesto. “You. Explain.”

And for the love of God, her gaze tells him, give me an explanation that makes sense.

He shrugs. “Taking her to the vet,” he says, and Imelda’s expression suddenly becomes worried.

Well. More worried.

“Is she sick?” she asks, leaving the grocery bag to Héctor and picking up the carrier. She holds up before her face, and Pepita’s growls turn into pitiful meowing to be let out. “What’s wrong with her?”

“Nothing!” Héctor exclaims. “I mean, we hope nothing’s wrong. We’re taking her to the vet to check!”

“... You decided to wrestle her in the carrier and rush her to the vet for an impromptu check-up?”

“Well, Ernesto said--”

Oh no, this is Not Happening. He’s not taking the blame for something he is… probably to blame for. “I told you we should wait until Imelda came back! And I only asked because she keeps going out hunting rodents and if she catches it--”

“If she catches what?” Imelda cuts him off, opening the carrier. Pepita immediately jumps in her arms, tame as a kitten, although she does shoot Ernesto another look of pure evil. Like it was him to put her in there, anyway.

“Toxoplasmosis,” Héctor speaks, sounding like he’s naming the most horrifying thing in the world. “Ernesto told me that it would be-- really bad if you caught it.”

Imelda blinks and turns to Ernesto, honestly surprised. “Since when are you an expert on…?”

“Dogs get it too,” he points out, crossing his arms. “I did my research after I got mine.”

“I see,” Imelda mutters, sounding… mildly impressed before she turns to Héctor. “... Mi amor. Did you think I did not do all the research needed?”

Héctor blinks. “Well-- of course you would, but--”

“Remember how I asked you to take on the litter cleaning duty when I realized I was pregnant?”

“Yes, but--”

“Why, in God’s name, do you think I asked you to do that?”

Oh, Ernesto thinks, of course she’d already taken it into account. Well, that’s… a relief. Makes him feel kind of stupid, but it’s still a relief. Beside him Héctor opens his mouth, then closes it. He hesitates.

“So-- you’re safe?”

“I am perfectly safe and so is the baby.”

“Ah.” Héctor glances at Pepita, who returns his gaze with another hiss. He gives both cat and wife an embarrassed smile. “Heh. Lo siento?”

Imelda sighs, reaching to cup his face. “Let me look at that - you have to be on TV in less than a week,” she points out. “You shouldn’t show up on screen looking like you’ve been to battle.”

Ernesto nods. “She has a point. That nose is not doing you any favors as it is, best not to make it worse on camera,” he says, gaining himself an unimpressed look from Héctor.

“Pendejo,” he huffs, smacking the grocery bag against his chest, and he turns to Imelda with a dramatic hand over his heart. “I would go to battle for you, just for a dance,” he declares, causing her to roll her eyes.

“It would be less of a dance and more of a waddle,” Imelda points out, a hand on the baby bump, now remarkably close in size to a ripe watermelon. “Come, let me fix your face. Hope we still have peroxyde.”

“No! Anything but that!”

“What happened to being willing to march into battle for me?”

Ernesto has a chuckle at Héctor’s expenses as Imelda leads him to the bathroom, but it is short-lived; it fades almost as soon as they’re out of his sight, and he’s quiet as he takes the groceries to the kitchen, ignoring the pleading looks from his dog, the murderous glare from Pepita, and holding it well out of Dante’s reach.

It’s nice to be welcomed back, of course. It’s good to have his best friend back. It’s good to be on good terms with Imelda, to know they want him there, want him to be their child’s godfather. It’s been weeks, almost two months; he should be used to this new normal. He is, for the most part - but he’s still human and ah, sometimes it still hurts. Sometimes he wonders if they feel the same, too, but he may never know. It doesn’t matter, he tells himself.

It’s for the best.

***

“You know, we could invent a machine that--”

“No machines, Felipe.”

“Actually, I’m Óscar.” “I have never fallen for that, and I won’t start now. So, when it comes to working the leather--”

“It would be faster if we built a machine to do it for us.”

“If we used machines, it wouldn’t be traditionally handmade.”

“Yes, but--”

“And that is what our brand is about,” Imelda cuts him off, sitting back. Her brothers are sitting across her at the workbench, supposedly to watch her and learn, but they seem to be too busy running their mouths to retain much of what she's trying to teach them. “People buy these shoes because they want them traditionally handmade, or else they’d be buying from a chain store.”

“Not that they would know,” Óscar mutters, the next moment he barely ducks under a roll of masking tape.

“We are not using machines,” Imelda enounces. “And that is fin--”

Her phone beeps suddenly with a reminder, and both twins leap over the workbench to sit next to Imelda, looking over at her laptop, which at the moment is showing the latest orders received.

“It’s about to start, isn’t it?”

“Come on, get it on!”

“They’re streaming it, no?”

“Yes, yes, give me a moment…”

It is… odd, to see Héctor and Ernesto on screen, being interviewed about their upcoming album. She’s seen them playing before crowds, and they were interviewed by radio stations before - she can’t say their agent doesn’t know how to get them visibility - but a TV studio must be an entirely different experience. And Héctor looks… a little overwhelmed at first, although the smile is wide enough that no one who doesn’t know him as well as she does would be tricked into thinking otherwise.

“So, your debut album will be out tomorrow. Tell us how your career started…”

Ernesto, of course, looks perfectly at ease and does the lion’s share of the talking, smile bright and voice smooth, a natural in front of the camera - even inspiring, if you fall for his ‘seize your moment’ spiel. He has the interviewer and just about everybody else in the studio absolutely charmed, and soon enough Imelda sees Héctor’s body language relax, too. His smiles are more sincere, he laughs when Ernesto brings up a particularly disastrous trip over a cable during their first day recording, playfully punches his shoulder when he brings up the time he forgot to pick him up from the airport years ago because he got caught up writing a new song.

“It was one time!”

“It happened at least three times.” A laugh, and Ernesto shoves him back. “But we got three good songs out of it, so who am I to complain?”

More chuckles, and the interviewer turns to Héctor, who looks perfectly at ease by now.

“I understand you’re the songwriter - I listened to a preview of your album and loved Un Poco Loco especially. Who is the song about?”

Héctor’s smile grows wider, and so does Imelda’s. “Oh, it’s about my wife.”

“Awwww,” her brothers exclaim, bringing a hand to each other’s heart. Imelda lightly smacks the arm closest to her, eyes on the screen, still smiling.

“She’s amazing - she couldn’t be here today, but she’s… my muse,” Héctor is going on. “She’s in the album, too! In our cover of La Llorona, the female singing voice? That’s her! She and Ernesto did the video, too, and it won't be out until--”

He goes on talking about the song, gushing about her, and the smile remains on Imelda’s lips - only a tad more melancholic. She remembers the day they recorded the song, of course. She remembers the day she and Ernesto filmed the video, too, dancing in front of a green screen. There had been attempts at upstaging each other, bickering, and oh they were so tired by the end of it - but they had given their absolute best, and it had been fun, looking back. Not that she’d have admitted it in front of Ernesto, then.

A good time.

She keeps listening, keeps her gaze on the screen as they stand and grab their guitars to play for the public - and if her brothers notice a change in her expression, they say nothing of it.

***

To their credit, Héctor would think later, he and Ernesto managed to wait until they were alone in a changing room backstage before they erupted in gritos, laughter and more gritos while hugging each other and dancing around like idiots, almost knocking down a clothes rack.

But what the hell, they just talked about their album on TV, played for the audience, and were loudly asked for an encore; they have every reason to celebrate and be as loud about it as they damn please. To think of how they’d started out from Santa Cecilia… well, this was beyond anything Héctor ever thought they would achieve.

And clearly, Ernesto’s dreams go even further.

“And this is just the start!” Ernesto exclaims, an arm tight around Héctor’s shoulders and the other hand gesturing at empty air, like he’s addressing a crowd of fans. “It’s going to be a success, I’m telling you, and so will be the albums that follow! Our names will be everywhere - Ernesto y Héctor!”

“You mean, Héctor y Ernesto,” Héctor points out, grinning a little and elbowing him in the chest. “That’s what it says on the album. Armando agreed it sounds better.”

Ernesto rolls his eyes. “Details, details.” He waves a hand dismissively, like he didn’t pout for the entire day after the decision to place Héctor’s name first was taken. “What matters is, we’re on the right track! We should go out and celebrate!”

“Ah, I…” Héctor shifts a little, feeling mildly guilty. “I should go back home. You know, with Imelda… her brothers are there, sure, but… you know.” He shrugs, rubbing the back of his neck. Ernesto is not very happy to hear that, he can tell. “How about you come over and have dinner with us?”

“No,” Ernesto says a little too quickly. He clears his throat. “I mean-- no, thanks. I will probably go out, have some drinks… networking, you know?”

Héctor nods. “Of course. You were always the best at this kind of thing. Just, uh… you’re alway welcome. You know that, no?”

Ernesto pauses at the door to look back at him. His expression is somewhat blank for a moment, then the easy smile is back, familiar, reassuring. And, Héctor fears, not entirely sincere. “Of course. Thanks, amigo. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you,” Héctor says, and sighs when the door closes again. Part of him wants to throw the door open, call out for his best friend, tell him they really want him to join them, but in the end he cannot bring himself to do so. They are no longer an item, so he can… do his own thing, party, maybe get some company - meet someone else. If he wants to, then he should get to do so.

It would be the normal thing to do. Things are back to normal, and all is going well. But ah, sometimes… no, often, Héctor misses the way things were. He misses what they had.

And he wonders if Imelda does, too.

***

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#pixar coco #ernesto de la cruz #imelda rivera #hector rivera #coco #mind the gap

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monstersandmaw · 4 years

Text

Twelve Days of Exomas - 70+k words of exclusive exophilia stories!

So, they’re all up now.

*wheezes and passes out*

For a long excerpt from Day Six (male were-yeti x reader) see below!

Twelve Days of Exomas (Christmas Special stories) 2019

Day One (male mummy x female reader - v. light nsfw)

Day Two (male djinn x male reader - NSFW)

Day Three (female were-hyena x female reader - NSFW)

Day Four (male sharkmer x reader - v. light NSFW/kiss)

Day Five (female orc x male reader - NSFW)

Day Six (male were-yeti x reader, Part One - SFW)

Day Seven (male were-yeti x reader, Part Two - v. light NSFW/kiss)

Day Eight (non-binary demon x reader - light NSFW)

Day Nine (male werewolf x male vampire x female character, Part One - NSFW)

Day Ten (male werewolf x male vampire x female character, Part Two - NSFW)

Day Eleven (female naga x reader - NSFW)

Day Twelve (male haunted mirror/Fae (x reader - NSFW)

Day Six - Male were-yeti x reader long excerpt (sfw)

“Come to Snowy Starfall Springs, they said. Live out the fairytale Winter Wonderland dream, they said,” you spat as you waded through knee-deep snow, way off the trail, lost, freezing your backside off, and with the daylight hours slowly burning out. “Fuck.”

The eerie stillness of the woods didn’t help either.

Short, stocky, slow-growing pines, their branches laden with snow, stood sentry against the approaching night, and the old, softened tracks of either a cervitaur or an actual deer were the only sign that anything else aside from you was even alive out here. You might not be for much longer unless you found that trail and headed back, but you couldn’t be that far from where you’d gone wrong. You had driven three hours out of Starfall Springs into the Starfall Mountains, parked up at the trail head, donned your awkward snow-shoes, and plunged eagerly into the wilderness that morning. You’d only intended for this to be a four hour hike, but instead you’d missed a turning somewhere, and had ended up somewhere off the usual trails, in the arse end of Winter Wonderland. “Happy Solstice, eh?” you chided yourself.

You’d just stopped and resigned yourself to digging around in your pack for your phone and compass - having been assured that the trail would be easy enough to follow in a nice loop from the car park - when up ahead, the stillness broke as something shifted between the trees, and you froze. These parts weren’t known for harbouring particularly dangerous wildlife, but there were packs of wolves, and even feral werewolves if the stories were true, and you were easy picking like this. Tiredness seeped into your muscles along with the cold, and you flexed your fingers, frozen on the point of sloughing off your backpack.

To your utter astonishment, a young child appeared between the snowy pines. Unlike you, he was not really dressed for the cold, wearing only a sweater and scruffy jeans. He stopped, stared straight at you, and then laughed. It wasn’t a particularly kind laugh either.

“Shit,” you hissed, watching your breath fog across your vision for a moment. Your eyelashes were frozen, creating a thick border of white around your vision because you’d neglected to bring your goggles too.

The child bent and swept their hand through the snow in a rapid arc, sending a wide spray of powder glittering through the air, and amid the flurry, they turned and ran.

“Wait!” you yelled after them. “Wait! Is there a shelter around here?” As if you had no more sense than a jackrabbit, you plunged through the trees after him, immediately tripping on the toe of your snow shoe and pitching into a deep bank of snow, face first.

His hair had been a white blond, and his skin a warm, rosy brown, and somehow he looked like he belonged here among the sleeping pines and wild, endless skies. You, meanwhile, were making more noise than a bear in a city trashcan.

Around your fresh mouthful of snow, you cursed and rolled upright. It wasn’t easy to do, but you’d fallen over enough times on your way out from the trail head to learn how to pick yourself up. Faceplant, roll onto your front, rock up onto your knees, windmill your arms a bit, stand up. Rinse and repeat.

As you straightened again, you heard the boy’s laughter and froze. “Hello?”

It seemed to come from one direction and then, a moment later, from another.

“Fuck’s sake,” you muttered bitterly to yourself. “Listen, I got turned around and I could use your help. I’m going to freeze my butt off if I stay out here tonight. Can you help me or not?”

Empty childish laughter was your only response.

Sucking in a deeper breath - cautiously because if you breathed too deeply and too quickly you’d start coughing with the cold - you headed in the direction you’d last seen the boy prancing through the snow like a Solstice reindeer. How did he move like that? Could he be a fae? At that point you were almost ready to sell your left kidney for a safe place to spend the night, but as the thought crossed your mind you realised that maybe you were more desperate than you should be. You still had perhaps an hour left of daylight, and you had a compass and a detailed map in your bag.

Out of nowhere, a deep, bellowing roar split the silence, crystalline fragments of winter peace shattering as your ears rang and you stumbled, catching the front of your snow-shoe again. You went down hard with a grunted ‘oof’ and felt your ankle go. It didn’t snap, thank all the gods, but you’d sprained it before and remembered the shock and the sudden rush of heat. You couldn’t have helped the yell that left your lips as you went down even if your soul (or your left kidney) had depended on it.

Defeated, frustrated, and in a fair bit of pain, you just lay there, face down in the snow for a minute. Perhaps the bear - if it had indeed been a bear - wouldn’t notice you if you just lay there.

Heavy footfalls reached you not long after, the snow squeaking slightly as it was compressed beneath large feet.

Shit.

Summoning the strength to turn your head, you looked and found two enormous, fluffy white hind paws, tipped with thick, four-inch long, jet black claws standing right beside you. You didn’t think that polar bears lived in these parts, but by this point, your exhaustion ran bone-deep, your muscles were shaky and cramping with the creeping cold, and your reserves of courage had just run completely dry. And with that, you went limp.

The creature knelt beside you and turned you over, chuffing softly like a tiger and gripping your backpack as if it were the scruff of your neck. Your stomach swooped, and when you opened your eyes, you saw that you were five feet off the ground, in the claws of a creature you’d thought only existed in ancient fairy tales.

A yeti had you in its claws.

Stars danced in your vision and you went limp before you could process much more than the dull, deep growl that reverberated around pronounced canines and black lips.

Warmth washed through you and you wriggled gently before a flash of sharp pain shot up your leg and you stopped moving immediately. At the sound of your shuffling, something sat up straight beside you and you blinked again, trying to clear your vision a bit.

Covered by a soft, woollen rug, you were lying on a sofa in a wooden cabin, with an iron, wood-burning stove blazing away at one end of the modest space, and with vibrantly coloured rugs and throws decorating the floor and couch. Everything had a handmade look to it, including the house itself right down to the cement used to seal the gaps between the rounded logs of the cabin walls and the rustic wooden handles on the doors.

In a chair near you sat possibly the most handsome man you had ever seen in your whole life, and the first words out of your mouth when you spotted him were, embarrassingly, “Am I dead?”

He laughed joyously, his ice-blue eyes crinkling at the corners. His skin was a warm, rich tanned brown, his eyebrows steel grey, and his long, thick, wiry white hair tied back off his ruggedly chiselled face in a half-ponytail. He looked to be at some intangible age between thirty and forty, with laughter lines around his eyes and one or two between his brows. His lips were full and looked infinitely kissable, slightly chapped, and he had a thick, pale scar on his chin that stretched up his neck, over his jawline to his lower lip that just invited you to press your fingers to it and draw him closer for a kiss. Naturally, you did none of that, and just stared at him like a thunderstruck imbecile.

“You’re not dead,” he chuckled, and you immediately felt hot all over, under your skin. He had a beautiful, rich, deep, lyrical voice with a lilting, thick accent. “But you did twist your ankle pretty good. How do you feel?”

As you blinked again, you realised that it was dark outside and that the curtains had been drawn against the night. You shifted again, trying to sit upright, and you realised that your foot was cold. Staring down at it, you discovered that he’d strapped a plastic ice block to it, wrapped in a tea-towel. “Where am I?” you asked groggily. “What happened?” and then you added, “That kid… there was a boy out there…?”

“You mean that one?” the man asked gruffly, scowling and jutting his chin over his shoulder at a wild-looking boy standing at the other end of the cabin. He was resting his lean, wiry frame against the doorway to what looked like a kitchen area, though it was hard to see in the low lamplight. The kid, perhaps nine or ten, flashed you a wickedly sharp smile and disappeared into the other room.

“Yeah,” you said lamely. “He’s yours?”

“Yup,” he said, standing up and looming over you for a moment before backing off, mostly so you didn't have to crick your neck to look at him.

He was wearing a creamy, cable-knit jumper with an intricate pattern on, and pale scruffy jeans with a rip in the knee. Where he was tall he was also broad-shouldered, though there was a softness to his torso that spoke of a different kind of strength from movie stars and body builders. He was the kind of man who could lift a tree trunk without much difficulty, but probably couldn’t sprint for long without getting winded.

“Who are you?” you asked as he turned away and reached for a mug on a nearby table. It looked unusual and you realised a second later that it was carved from wood. Something in the back of your head said, with the voice of your late grandmother, that it was called a ‘kuksa’ by folks in these parts.

“Oh,” he said, pausing and glancing back at you over his shoulder. His hair was thick and coarse looking, hanging just down to his shoulder blades but you still felt the inexplicable urge to run your fingers through it. You frowned, wondering whether he’d slipped you something while you’d been unconscious. “I’m Arttu,” he said, drawing out the consonants in a way that made your mouth go a bit dry. His eyes were so blue that they were almost beyond comprehension. You’d never seen anyone with eyes that colour. “Here,” he added, moving back to you and holding out the kuksa.

You made no move to take it from him, no matter how rough and big and inviting his hands looked. “What is it?” you asked.

“Water,” he grinned. “You’re safe here, I promise.”

“You can’t blame me for being wary,” you grumbled, sitting up awkwardly and reaching for the cup. “Passing out in the claws of a yeti and waking up in the cabin of some supernaturally handsome guy…”

Arttu nearly dropped the kuksa as he handed it to you, but he laughed almost shyly at your words. “Well,” he said, oddly flustered and with his cheeks slightly flushed. From the other room, the boy yelled something in a language you didn’t speak or recognise, and Arttu replied more softly in the same.

You tried not to make an indecent noise at the sound of his voice, and looked away. You took in the way your foot was propped up on a cushion and, for the first time, noticed that your very unflattering snow-suit was nowhere to be seen.

When you looked back up at him, Arttu was licking his lips nervously and had stepped back even further. You drank and then set the kuksa on a nearby hand-made, pine coffee table. “I mean it,” he said in a soft, earnest voice. “You’re safe here. Are you hungry?”

For you? “Uh, yeah?” you said, suddenly realising how long it had been since breakfast as your stomach clenched almost painfully.

His lips twitched and he nodded. “I’ll be right back.”

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