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mystery-talks-chaos · 7 months

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Yippee new story!

(Staring Tails and Amy! Why? Because we needd more for the two!)

Word count: 1835

Tails turned around as he heard Amy sigh from beside him.

“Are you alright?” He asked, tilting his head in a way Amy can only describe as adorable.

“Yeah, I’m fine…” Amy said, looking down at the basket she was picking. It was slightly over half-way full, which was more than Tails could say considering his wasn’t even quarter way full.

It was on of those, quite moments, Amy enjoyed having around Tails. The two would go out doing an activity, spending time together, without saying anything... Just enjoying the other's company.

True, it was weird sometimes, wanting to say something to fill the silence; however, at moments like these, the silence was something that fit.

The two of them were there picking strawberries for Amy to make her infamous strawberry cake. (Which wasn't really infamous considering Tails claimed to have not tasted it once. Something Amy refused to let past!)

“We should do things like this more often,” Amy said with a small smile, looking at the young fox beside her.

“Yeah! We should!” Tails exclaimed, raising a fist to the air. “I love doing things like this with you! I wish we could always do things like this together! Too bad we are always stuck trying to stop Eggman…” Tails said, mumbling the last part.

Unbeknownst to Tails, Amy actually heard it, and was truthfully thinking the same thing.

Amy always wondered how her life would have been if she hadn’t met Sonic on Mushroom Island, and if she didn’t follow him…

Would she have been living a normal life? A life like all the girls her age?

It was a weird thought she concluded. Sometimes, she was sad that she gave up her chance to live a normal peaceful life… One where she didn’t have to worry about fighting, or about what next robot Eggman would bring next. Nor about whether they would be able to succeed in stopping Eggman’s next plan. Nor about whether this would be the last time she would see her friends laughing in front of her…

Other times, however, she was glad that she left it! If she hadn’t followed Sonic, she would never have been able to meet all her friends, or meet out with them, like she was now with Tails…

Speaking of the kit, she wondered how it was for him…

He was Sonic’s side-kick… Sonic’s right hand… Sonic’s partner in crime…

But… he was still a kid.

Even younger than Amy!

Only seven years old…

He hasn’t even reached his double digits…

If it was this hard for Amy, how hard was it for him?

Seeing all the kids his age play in playgrounds, and whine over having candy, or because they are forced to do a chore…

Tails never got that privilege, as far as Amy was concerned…

Amy might not know too much about the kid’s past; however, it was clearly obvious that he wasn’t half as privileged as the other kids his age!

Like, this seven (SEVEN) year old goes to fight huge robots, which scare even the bravest of people, without a second thought. And he’s been doing it for so long that it seems to have just become a habit to him… Like it was nothing out of the ordinary…

Amy wondered how he felt…

Does he regret staying with Sonic? Giving up his chance of a normal life, to fight against a mad man on a weekly basis at least…

“Not really…” Tails whispered, looking down at the tiny strawberry in his hand.

Amy’s head snapped to the kit beside her. Had she said that out loud?

“Really? Like… you don’t regret it at all?” Amy asked, hesitating a bit when asking.

“Like I said, I don’t think I regret it,” Tails said, finally popping the tiny strawberry he was holding into his mouth. “I mean think about it! If I hadn’t stayed with Sonic, then I wouldn’t have met Knuckles, or Shadow, or Cream, or Charmy, or Vector, or any one else! I wouldn’t have met you! How can I regret meeting you?!”

Amy chuckled a bit at his response, before opening her mouth. “But don't you regret giving up your chance of having a normal life? Like, you could have been living with your family if you didn’t stay with Sonic! You could have a lot more friends! A lot more friends your age! You could be stressing about a test, or what you will have for lunch tomorrow rather than what Eggman’s next plan is!”

Amy knew she said something wrong when Tails’ ear folded back and his eyes glanced down at the floor.

“I wouldn’t be living like that if I hadn’t met Sonic,” Tails whispered, his voice wavering in a way Amy has never heard before.

True, Amy might have known Tails for a long time, but she has never seen him this vulnerable. His feet shifting against each other, hands tightening against the basket he was holding… Tails might not have the same enthusiasm as Sonic when fighting; however, he never ever backed away from a fight, no matter how outnumbered he was. Amy and the group often referred to this as one of the many things he has got from Sonic, much to the youngsters embarrassment.

Back on topic, Amy didn’t know what he meant when he said that…

What did he mean that he wouldn’t have lived like that? Did he not have parents? Then again, him not having parents would make sense as he lives with Sonic as Sonic’s younger brother, and as far as she was aware they had no parents?

Was Tails an orphan? Was that what he was coming at?

From experience, Amy knew that the best way to get information and to get people to warm up was to listen. So that’s what she would do.

“What do you mean?” Amy asked quietly.

“If… I hadn’t met Sonic… I… I wouldn’t be… half as happy as I am now…” Tails said, his eyes glued to the floor, as tears threatened to spill.

Amy couldn’t do anything but stare at the kit in front of her. His legs were shaking as they struggled to hold his weight, and his eyes were shut tight in an attempt to block out tears from flooding out.

After using a second to regain her senses, Amy quickly put a hand on Tails' shoulder in comfort.

What she didn’t expect, however, was for Tails to flinch, hard, and take a step back in fear, before tripping over his basket, and falling on the ground. Tails then pulled his legs to his stomach and used his Tails as some sort of shield.

Amy could hear Tails’ small whimpers, which broke her heart, and made her regret thinking about the whole thing in the first place.

“P-P-Please! Pl-please d-don’t hurt m-me! I-I wo-won’t do it ag-again! Pr-Promise!” A meek voice said. It took Amy a second to notice that it was no other than Tails pleaing.

Amy immediately went down to her knees, hoping she could help her young friend out.

“Hey, Tails, its just me… Don’t worry… I’m here… No one’s going to hurt you!” Sadly, though, Amy’s attempts to calm Tails down were in vain, as the young fox started pleaing louder.

Amy then remembered something her parents used to do to her when she was younger…

Slowly, and carefully, Amy placed her hand on top of the tiny kit, and slowly moved it back and forth. After a few seconds, Amy could hear his cries quieting down, and she slowly pulled the little kit to her lap, whispering words of comfort.

“Shh… It’s fine… It’s alright… No one’s going to hurt you…” Amy mumbled into the fox’s ear, knowing very well that he could hear her…

The little fox just kept crying, though it was in a more hushed tone. As he slowly loosened up, Amy could see his face, which was stained with tears, his eyes barely open, as though to glance at the person holding him.

Once Tails realized it was Amy, he quickly wiped off his tears, and hopped out of Amy’s lap, looking at the floor with embarrassed eyes.

“I-I’m su-super s-sorry, A-Amy!” Tails stuttered through gasps, “I-I didn’t me-mean to cr-cry on you! I’m so-sorry for ge-getting your dr-dress w-wet!”

Amy stared at Tails for a good second, trying to get a grasp of what was happening.

Tails… was apologizing… for having a breakdown… Although, it was Amy’s fault for bringing it up, without warning. In all honesty, she shouldn’t have boughten the subject up so randomly.

“Why are you apologizing? You did nothing wrong!” Amy said, making sure her voice was softer than normal. The last thing she needed was Tails being scared by her loud voice.

Tails continued rubbing his eyes harshly, before opening his mouth and trying to form some sentences.

“I-I ru-ruined it! I ruined yo-your day! It- It was su-supp-osed t-to b-be a fu-fun d-day straw- strawb-berry p-picking! A-and I ru-ruined i-it! A-and no-now your dr-dress i-is w-wet t-too! A-and its a-all my f-fault f-for cry-crying!” Tails said, looking as though he was about to have another breakdown.

Thankfully, he didn’t. Instead he stood there, hands pulling on the fur of his Tails…

“Hey… Hey… None of that now!” Amy said, guiding Tails’ hands away from his fur, “You don’t have to be sorry! You did nothing wrong! I’m the one who should be sorry! I never should have said anything!”

Tails looked up at Amy with wide, questioning eyes. He opened his mouth to say something, only to be shushed by Amy who took on the job of patting his head.

The two sat like that for sometime, enjoying the others’ company. Tails slowly leaned in to Amy pushing his head into her chest snuggling into her warmth.

Amy could feel Tails slowly relax in her arms as she slowly placed her chin on top of his furry head.

What could have happened to Tails to make him react so bad to that question?

What happened in Tails’ past?

Just how much does Sonic mean to Tails?

What would have happened to Tails if he never met Sonic?

Amy sighed, those were questions for another day… One thing at a time…

When the sun started to set, the two friends decided to head back to Sonic and Tails’ place for the night.

(Tails argued that they didn’t get nearly half the amount of strawberries Amy needed for her cake; however, Amy quoted him, saying that they would always come back another day to get some more, and that her recipe would work with the amount they have.)

With that the two headed off, keeping the other company…

One thing Amy knew was that she was going to find out what was going on with her young friend…

(After all, she going to have to know everything about him, if he’s going to be her future brother in law~)

#miles tails prower #sonic the hedgehog #sonic #sonic & tails #sonic and tails #tails the fox #cute tails #sonic fandom #sonic and tails are brothers #amy and tails are siblings #forgot to post this #sonic fanfiction #hope yall like it!#we need more Tails and Amy bonding stories!

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a-dumbo-octopus · 1 year

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Can you tell she's my favorite character in pjsekai

#hell yeah we both have identity issues lets GOOOOOO #but yeah she's great #also i found out the weird thing with the back of her skirt was a CAPE and like 👀👀👀 that's fuckin sick??#yeah i had fun with this. ive been holding off on posting it due to bad lighting #hope yall like it!#mafuyu asahina #mafuyu pjsk #mafuyu project sekai #project sekai #project sekai fanart #mafuyu asahina fanart #pjsekai #octo's art

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u-look-beautiful-today · 1 year

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Annnnnd I finished the tattoo artist x flower shop Wenclair au. Just need to be edited. Stay tuned!

#wenclair #enid sinclair #wednesday addams #enid x wednesday #wednesday x enid #tattoo/flower au #my writing #hope yall like it!#it'll be a few days

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liturgusakrattorum · 2 years

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FINALLY after spending three days on it it’s done. here’s a runes oneshot that ended up being a hell of a lot longer than i intended for it to be LOL

Quick context! By this point in the AU, the crew will have gathered a good amount of Runes on their own and have run into Paisley and Corvus a few times in the past. After their latest adventure having narrowly escaped another Pave Nature dig site, the gang gets caught off-guard by both CEOs giving chase in the sky.

Hope you enjoy it! :D

- - -

Crash Landing

The ship lurches and tosses nearly half the crew off their feet. All eyes shoot to the rafters as the sound of groaning metal shudders through the Tortuga’s frame.

“What was THAT?!” Martin sputters, brushing off the box of screws that had spilled onto his lap.

Chris wastes no time scrambling to his feet. His eyes are as wide as dinner plates, gaze darting around the room like a madman. He peers through the skylight at the top of the dome-shaped structure to catch a glimpse of a sleek, black and purple jet whizzing past.

His frantic search suddenly halts. “AtroCorp,” he hisses. “I think they found us.”

“Here?!” Koki does a double-take as she helps Aviva up from the floor. “I thought we lost ‘em!”

“Clearly not – we gotta move. Jimmy!” Chris tilts his head up as if to throw his voice a little farther, making a sprint for the cockpit. “Jimmy, are you okay?!”

Chris’s heart nearly misses a beat as a faint groan replies through the door. He grabs the handle and flings it open, a sigh of relief escaping him as he’s greeted by a dazed Jimmy crawling back into the pilot’s seat.

“I’m good,” replies the redhead, grumbling to himself as he sweeps his arm across the control panel to knock off the excess clutter. “Freakin’ blast spilled ramen all over my shirt. What even was that?”

“AtroCorp. I think they’re trying to shoot us down.”

“WHAT?!”

“Just get us outta here!”

No other words need to be exchanged between the two. Immediately, Jimmy’s attention is pulled away from Chris and absorbed completely into his post. He snatches his controller, mashing a few buttons on the Tortuga’s piloting system before shoving the joystick full speed ahead. Chris pushes away from the cockpit door and rushes back to the main room.

It’s all hands on deck. Koki and Aviva each man a computer, typing furiously as they set themselves up within the Tortuga’s defense systems (whatever little it has – this is a research vessel, not a warship). Chris nearly falls over again trying to dodge the office chairs rolling by, both of which sit abandoned by the women usually occupying them.

Up ahead, Martin bursts back into the room, one Creature Power Suit donned and the other tucked beneath his arm. He wordlessly tosses the extra equipment to his brother, and Chris fumbles into the vest just as the rising whine of the Tortuga engines echo through the hull.

“We gotta get ‘em off our tail,” Martin says, clenching and unclenching his fist as the Power Suit glove settles over his skin. “Can you fly us over to their ship? Maybe we can cut off one of their engines or something.”

“With the Power Suits?” Chris raises an eyebrow. “We’ve barely tested these things!”

“You got any better ideas?”

Chris pauses, then shakes his head. He’s right; it’s better than nothing.

Martin springs on his heel and barrels out the door, prompting Chris to follow close behind him. The echoes of their hurried footfalls patter down the corridor, mingling with the increasing chaos developing outside. The two brothers emerge into the loading bay as the Tortuga’s engines rev to life.

“Here,” Martin tosses one of the Runes in his arms to Chris. He turns back around toward the far wall, slamming his now-free hand against the airlock release. The door clicks open with a loud hiss, and suddenly the world outside crashes into the room. The elder brother tightens his grip around the airlock handle, wincing away from the wind roaring through the loading bay.

Another explosion. Martin stumbles and throws his other hand forward, crashing into the wall as the Tortuga shudders under the impact. He grits his teeth as his ribs slam directly into the handle.

“Shit– Chris, you good?” Martin shakes off his stunned daze and turns back up to Chris, but the loading bay is empty. “...Chris?”

His heart digs into his stomach. Gripping onto the wall, he leans out the door and confirms his fear.

His little brother is falling.

“CHRIS!”

About fifty feet below, Chris is plummeting from the two airships racing by. His ears scream with the wind tearing past him, the world blending into a barrage of color as he claws at the air in an attempt to steady himself. If a scream escapes him, he can’t hear it; the adrenaline coursing through his veins has tuned out everything beyond the dangerously urgent need to stop his fall. There has to be something, anything –

There. About ten feet away and steadily drifting farther, the bright green flash of the Peregrine Rune catches his eye. From this height, he’s probably got about ten seconds before he reaches too close to the ground to do much beyond bracing for impact.

His eyes flick to the Tortuga, now quickly becoming a turquoise spot in the sky. He’s willing to take the shot.

Chris takes a shaky breath and twists himself until he’s horizontal, nearly overextending his arm until his fingertips just barely brush against the Rune. He swipes at it a few times before managing to gain purchase on the stone, grasping it in his hand before slamming it into the loading slot on his chest piece.

He squeezes his eyes shut, hand clenched against the vest. “Please work,” he whispers. Part of him wonders if the man upstairs is listening. “Please work, please work, please work.”

Silence.

Nothing.

…Then–

A flash. Bright green light shimmers from the heart of the Power Suit. The wind tearing through Chris’s senses is drowned out by the growing hum of the Rune gathering its power. Limb by limb, the light envelops his body, morphing his very form until his legs become talons, his arms become feathers, his stinging eyes become shielded by the visor of a completed suit. The moment the opportunity hits, Chris spreads his newfound wings and soars. As he closes back in on the Tortuga loading bay, he can just hear his older brother laugh in terrified relief.

Chris tucks his wings and lands roughly back inside. He tumbles and crashes into the far wall, gasping to catch his breath as the wind nearly knocks out of him.

“YES!!” Martin cheers. He rushes to meet Chris, scooping up his brother in a jubilant hug. “YES! I KNEW it would work!”

Despite the admittedly terrifying near-death experience just now, Chris can’t help but smile, too. Martin’s excitement is contagious.

“...Holy crap,” Chris breathes. “Holy shit, I can’t believe I just did that.”

Martin beams proudly, breaking from the hug and shaking Chris’s shoulders. “YOU DID THAT!”

“I DID THAT!”

But their celebration is cut short. Another explosion rocks the loading bay, this time much louder than the ones they’d heard previously. Both brothers instinctively duck out of the way, peering over their shielding arms to see a massive grappling hook stabbing straight through the Tortuga’s rear engine.

Martin grits his teeth. “Shit. We gotta work fast.”

Chris is already ahead of him. Spreading his wings again, he dives back out the door and swoops straight towards the AtroCorp jet. Martin takes this as his cue to load his own Rune – the Spider Monkey – and join him outside.

He skids to a halt just before the loading bay door. No response from the Suit. He grumbles to himself, pressing the chest piece’s loading slot a few times before it sputters to life and transforms.

The moment he’s able, Martin leaps into action. He swings himself around the door until he finds a grip along the outside wall of the Tortuga. His elongated limbs propel him across the side of the airship, stopping every so often to dodge out of the way of the scrap metal tearing off the point of impact.

Eventually, he reaches the broken engine. AtroCorp’s grappling hook digs deep into the side of the hull, charred metal sitting exposed like a nasty gash tearing into the ship. Smoke is already beginning to billow out of the impact point. Martin coughs and waves the blackened air away to inspect the damage. Hesitantly, he reaches out a leg to kick at the hook, hoping to dislodge it from the side of the ship. Nothing. The hook sits unmoving, creaking against the burning engine beneath it.

“Figures,” Martin huffs. Time for Plan B.

Shifting his weight, he peers up at the other end of the hook connected to the opposing airship. He leaps up, barely landing a grip on the attachment chain before swinging himself upright to perch upon the black metal device. If he can’t kick the hook off, he might as well try disconnecting it from the jet trying to bring them down.

Guess this’d be a lot easier if I had tools, Martin curses to himself. I’ll just have to brute force it.

“MK!” The Creature Pod around Martin’s wrist crackles to life, the sound of Aviva’s voice barely registering above the roar of the fiery engine. “What’s going on? Where are you guys?”

Martin squints through the smoke, his hands busy with undoing the grappling hook chain. “Back left engine’s hit,” he shouts back. “I don’t know how bad the damage is, I can barely see out here.”

“What about Chris?”

“AtroCorp jet. We gotta get this thing off of us.”

“Dios mio– get back in here, both of you! It’s too dangerous to be out there right now!”

Martin purses his lips. Typical of Chris and himself to ignore her voice of reason. His hands yank at the massive chain links, trying to find a weak point to set it free – but like the hook it’s attached to, the heavy steel refuses to move.

“Just give us a minute, Aviva,” he begins to retort, “I just gotta–”

There’s no time to react.

Another loud CRASH catches Martin completely off-guard, nearly causing him to fall off the ship himself. Clinging to the massive chain, he braces himself against the blast of hot air that rushes from another fiery explosion. He looks up, eyes darting frantically around the back of the ship to inspect the damage. On the far side of the Tortuga, another hook sits lodged into its second engine.

“Right,” he corrects himself, “inside. Got it. On my way.”

Before Martin can move to return to the loading bay, however, his path is cut short by the sudden lurch of the Tortuga. His arms instinctively cling to the grappling hook chain, trying his hardest not to get flung off from the force of the sudden change in motion. The ship wavers, both of its engines sputtering under the damage they’ve sustained. Martin swings himself back across the way he came, stumbling into the loading bay before the ride gets too bumpy.

As he turns his heel to return to the hub, he freezes a moment. Chris. He’s still outside – surely he heard Aviva’s call, right?

But the Tortuga shudders again. All around him, the sounds of groaning metal and the ship’s power systems struggling to maintain themselves call for him to turn his attention to more pressing matters. Martin steals an uneasy glance at the engine closest to the loading bay door, its power weakening with every shift of the airship’s trajectory.

The near engine flashes in a brilliant inferno. The Tortuga rattles under the sudden impact, the lights flicker – and then it ceases. If it weren’t for the open door, the whole loading bay would be flooded in darkness. Through the bright light outside, Martin can just see the forest below slowly begin to tilt into an increasingly steeper angle. His body stands frozen for a beat – then the realization hits.

We’re going down.

Before he can debate waiting for his brother any further, his limbs are already sending him flying back down the hall. Martin struggles to slide the door to the main hub open, barrelling through the moment he’s able. The blaring alarm of the electrical system’s warning notifications screams back at him, every emergency light in the room flashing a worrying red.

His eyes scan the room. Aviva and Koki are just ahead. Chris is still outside – if anyone’ll escape this without a scratch, it’ll be him. He won’t have enough time to reach Jimmy. God, he hopes the cockpit safety systems are working.

Get moving.

“Hang on tight!” is all he can muster out of himself. Heart hammering and mind acting on pure instinct, he lunges forward and makes a break for his friends manning the computer systems. One arm scoops up Koki, the other tosses Aviva over his shoulder.

A heartbeat – he’s on the other end of the room. His tail wraps around one of the supply bags and slips it between the three of them and the wall. Wrapping his arms around the girls, he hunches over and braces himself for impact.

Another heartbeat – Chris is rolling away from the AtroCorp jet as it takes a sudden dive. He shakes off its turbulence and sets himself upright again, only to see the reason for the jet’s change of course. The younger brother watches as the Tortuga crashes into the forest below, foliage and metal debris alike spiraling into the air through plumes of fire and dust and smoke.

The sounds of crashing and rumbling tumble over one another and dissipate across the forest. The black and purple jet disappears into the cloud of dust, and Chris is alone in the air. Without a word, he divebombs after the jet, squinting through the smoke as his world quickly darkens around him.

He coughs, landing roughly on his feet and kicking up loose topsoil. The neon green light of his Power Suit cuts clear like a blade through the thick air around him, his form returning to his human state as the Rune powers down. AtroCorp’s still nearby, but stealth be damned – his friends were in that crash! Immediately, he takes off running towards the looming shadow of a destroyed Tortuga.

Chris feels along the side of the singed metal shell until his fingers curl around the edge of the loading bay opening. Unlatching his Creature Pod from his wrist, he holds it into the air and lights his way in, clambering through foliage and still-glowing shrapnel. Sparks from once-functional ceiling lights spit at him erratically as he jogs through the Tortuga’s halls, eventually arriving at the hub room door. He shimmies his hands between the opening that separates the sliding doors, gathering his strength and pulling them open just enough to squeeze through.

The hub is silent. Only the Creature Pod light cleaves through the dust kicked up inside the dome-like space, casting a dim glow upon shattered computer screens, glass shards, and equipment spilled absolutely everywhere.

“Guys…?” Chris has to force his voice to work beyond a whisper. “Are you here?”

For a beat, the Tortuga’s hub remains entirely motionless. He holds his breath, anticipating a response and forcing the fear of the worst out of his mind.

…And then, a change. The sound of disturbed debris shuffles through the room, a quiet seething groan echoing from the other end. Chris releases his breath in a wave of relief and rushes to the source of the sound.

Along the far wall, dust and broken equipment rustle and shift, until the pile of debris rolls aside to reveal a familiar flash of black, white, and blue. Martin – now deactivated and returned to his human state himself – shrugs off the dirt and raises himself to full posture, releasing the shielding embrace he had held Aviva and Koki in. Both girls emerge from in front of him, shaken up with some cuts and bruises but otherwise unharmed.

Chris skids to a halt and drops to his knees to meet them. “Oh, thank god! Is everyone okay?”

“We’re fine,” Aviva says, brushing herself off. “...Where’s Jimmy?”

“Ugh…here,” a raspy cough rings from the cockpit doorway. Chris glances up to see the pilot hobbling out into the hub, hair completely disheveled and cap nowhere to be found. “I think I–” – Jimmy trips, barely catching himself along the wall – “–ssk, yeah. That’s a fucked up ankle.”

Before Jimmy can push himself any farther, Chris is already at his side. The redhead hisses in discomfort as his friend places his arm over his shoulders, trying his best to help Jimmy keep the weight off his injured leg. The two of them hobble to the center of the room to regroup with the others.

Koki plops onto the center control panel, eyes shifting across the room to take in the reality of the past five minutes. “The Tortuga…” she whispers in hollow disbelief.

“...Can be fixed up later,” Martin finishes her thought, shaking his head. “We’re all still in one piece, right? That’s all that matters right now.”

“Hey, that– that jet’s still out there, right?” Jimmy interjects, “Where’d those guys go?”

“Right behind you.”

The crew nearly jumps at the unexpected voice interjecting behind them. A loud CLICK rings through the hub as a floodlight suddenly slices through the inky darkness of the crash site, beaming down on the five individuals huddled around each other. The faint silhouettes of two suited figures – one considerably shorter than the other – looms over them, flanked by several, more animalistic shadows standing at attention. The taller figure steps forward, his glasses glinting in the floodlight as the form of Corvus Castellanos emerges from the darkness.

“Well, hello, Tortuga Crew,” he chuckles, casually dusting the dirt off his jacket. “It’s about time we finally caught up with one another.”

#wild kratts #wk runes au #chris kratt #martin kratt #aviva corcovado #jimmy z #koki wild kratts #paisley paver #wk oc #corvus castellanos #3K WORDS. MAN.#this scene's been living in my head like all summer i HAD to finally get it out #hope yall like it!#skip's art

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twilights-800-cats · 8 months

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Twilight has started posting on Patreon!

As always, after some weeks of posting, the chapters will come to Tumblr and FF. But if you want to read ahead, give some input in the Discord, and see some of the other stuff I've been working on, feel free to check out Patreon! It's only $1, and you get to support me and my very bratty corgi!

#hope yall like it!#im always nervous about these things lol #but i think this one has been the one ive been most nervous about haha

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sizeshiftingdeath · 1 year

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Drew some g/t art of Donnie :D (Click for better quality)

Some of the context: Let’s just say, one of Donnie’s machines kiiiinda fucked up a bit, shot him with a laser and now he’s tiny, staring up at his work table, probably thinking to himself, “Well shit”

#rottmnt g/t #tiny!donnie #had a lot of fun drawing this!#hope yall like it!#Death's Doodles

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hugmekenobi · 3 months

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18K words later and guess who only has to finish proofreading and should be ready to post the post S2 Hunter oneshot tomorrow!!!

#it’s been so long #hope yall like it!#the bad batch #the bad batch season 2 #hunter x reader #hunter x femalejedi!reader

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twilightdaisi · 1 year

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NEW Distant Luminaries Chapter out now!

#my art #distant luminaries #dl #hope yall like it!

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mackenzielovee · 1 year

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i have a lil ambivalence thing coming out today! it's on the shorter side but it's cute ;)

#hope yall like it!#look out for it in a bit!

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roughentumble · 2 years

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i wrote a little ficlet! geralt gets himself sick on too many potions, and doesnt have any white honey to fix it, so he has to purge his system. jaskier takes care of him afterwords.

@hale-of-stiles-heart just because i feel like she'd like being tagged

cw: emetophobia

now on ao3

~*~*~

the air is damp and earthy. it surrounds geralt, thought not in a way that he registers.

geralt is a conciousness floating in space.

he gasps for breath, lungs burning, air fogging white in front of his lips, but he can't feel any of that yet. a beast lays before him, slain, blood sluggishly draining out into the dirt below, creating mud as black as pitch. if he is injured, he cannot feel it, but his leg doesnt respond correctly when he takes a jerky step forward. that doesnt matter-- he doesnt register his legs. he pushes forward, trophy knife in hand, and grabs at the creature. already partially decapitated from his killing blow, all he has to do is finish sawing away at the skin and flesh and connective tissue left behind. his body does this automatically. he doesnt need to feel his hands for this.

once the head is seperated, though, his fingers refuse to close properly around the fur, he cannot lift it. his hands-- when did he start having hands again?-- shake. numb, they tremble and refuse to clasp. he'll have to come back for it in the morning, loathe as he is to leave evidence of his hunt behind.

he'd brought white honey, for after. but as he reaches down for it, the past comes back to him in flashes-- falling. the sound of glass. liquid, but not the rain-- he'd fallen on his hip during the fight and shattered all the vials strapped to him. he'd taken all the others already, but the white honey is gone, and his body is overcome with toxicity. tremors wrack his frame, a dull ache creeping into his conciousness, and in lieu of another potion to ease the symptoms, he has to purge himself of the poisons before he succumbs to them.

his fingers taste like dirt and metal as he shoves them against the back of his throat. there is the faint ringing of pain, and his knees will regret the way he collapsed onto them in the morning, but he has no presence of mind to be gentle, nor the coordination to acheive it. he has to swallow air along with his fingers' efforts, as he's never had much of a gag reflex, and it makes the whole endeavor that much more painful, debasing. he clings to the nausea, though, forcing his body to listen.

it burns. it burns like fire, like acid, burns worse than it did going down. it isnt just bile, it's every toxic, caustic poison in his stomach, scraping its way past a torn-raw throat. it isnt the color of vomit, but he hardly expected it to be, and once it starts it's as though it never ends. some bodily instincts even witchers cannot be trained out of, and he chokes and coughs and gags as more and more is pushed out of his system. his system panics and his throat slams shut, swallowing more air in the process and starting the cycle anew, until nothing remains at all. his mouth, his nose, his throat down to his stomach, all are alight with pure pounding seering pain as he gags for the last time, stomach concave from the spasms and the emptiness.

he stays there as he remembers how to breathe. slowly his body is remembering pain, but only in fits and starts.

he hasnt made a mistake this bad in... a very long time.

he sits back on his feet and tilts his head to the sky, lets little pinpricks of sharp coldness remind him of his face, it's shape, waking up his skin. it's been drizzling for a while, and now the beast is dead, the sound brings with it a gentle calm, pattering against treetops and grounding him in his body. his hip aches, his leg throbs, his fingers still wont close, but his world is too fuzzy to catalogue the whys of any of these pains. perhaps its toxicity-- perhaps something else. worst of all is the throbbing in his skull, the fire in his respiratory system.

he cleans his blades with slow, deliberate strokes. he only cuts himself once, despite the continued tremors, and as he watches red well up it doesnt seem to be overly deep, which he counts as a positive.

it must be an hour still before he makes it back to camp once more, gait uneven and eyes unfocused. he's better than this-- he's supposed to be better than this. as good as dead in his shambling, and so vulnerable. still it rains on, and the sound against the tarp they'd set up before he left is sharper than it is against any of the natural features of the woods. he follows it like a beacon, to find the fire long snuffed, and jaskier dozing in relative dryness.

he rouses when geralt stumbles into a nearby tree.

the moon is high and bright despite the patchy cloud covering, and jaskier squints through the dark as he snuffles awake, examining geralt's form. "oh, you're back! that's good, that's good, i... are you alright? it's just, you seem a bit hunched there. it's-- what is that on your face?" geralt reaches up, wipes away bile with the back of his hand. any joviality drains out of jaskier as he takes in geralt's state.

he scrambles to his feet, and only hesitates for a moment before running his hands over geralt's heaving chest, his trembling limbs. he must have flinched at the sound, or else jaskier is truly just that scared for him, because he doesnt say much else as he takes in the sight of his ragged witcher.

"right." he says firmly and he turns around to rummage through roach's saddlebags. what it is he's gathering, geralt doesnt know-- his pupils expand and contract as his body fights to purge the potions in his veins, and it makes his vision waver in and out, darkness expanding and receeding. he closes his eyes against it.

after a moment, geralt feels a gentle hand in his, and opens his eyes to see jaskier's slung a bag over his shoulder. "c'mon now, let's go get you cleaned up." he speaks in low, gentle tones, though no attempt at gentleness hides the seriousness, the concern beneath it. geralt blinks at his tugging hand, mind slower than it ought to be, before finally pushing off from the tree to follow where jaskier leads.

he's patient, allowing geralt to limp and stagger as he needs. they arrive at a creek, not far from camp, that geralt had shown him the way to earlier that day. it's surreal, seeing it at night, being the one led to it instead of the other way around. the slick rocks glint wet and dark and alien in the moonlight.

jaskier's hands are unpracticed with geralt's armor, he's watched it be removed but he's never paid attention. geralt allows him his fumblings, though, still in the process of returning to his body. still in the process of trying to breathe how he ought to. if he had the presence of mind for it, he would wish that his damned hands would still. as it is, its just an unnamable base urge, a feeling tickling at the back of his mind.

jaskier gets geralt stripped down to his clothes, and then out of his clothes entirely, not a word or even suggestive wink the whole time. it's the kind of nudity that's born out of necessity, and jaskier treats it with the gravitas that its earned. geralt knows that he should fear being vulnerable, weak and exposed with no way to defend himself beyond pure, uncoordinated instinct... but he is being touched so gently. jaskier holds him so steady as the water is worked through his matted hair, as the burning bile is washed off his chin. it's... nice. to be taken care of. to be cared for. to trust.

trusting this much should feel like a shock, but instead it feels like a warm blanket on a cold night. like an embrace. it settles over him, and he sinks into it, the throbbing in his head easing just a bit as he lets jaskier take care of him.

geralt's eyes are unfocused, but he notices jaskier's trousers are soaked through past the knee, just stepped right into the water without a second thought. the drizzle has dampened his fringe too, and it sticks to his forehead. he doesnt say a word, though. just keeps rinsing away the worst of the grim that clings to geralt's skin.

he begins patting geralt down for injuries. geralt's still too potion-numb to react, so he doesnt come away with much, but his hands falter on geralt's hips-- specifically the left side, where the bottles had been. "there's-- there's something under the skin. i- i have to pull it out." he sounds a bit faint, but geralt just nods in understanding. whatever it is, it's big enough for jaskier to grasp with his fingers, and he only gags a bit as he pulls it down and out. he holds the bit up to his face, brows furrowed as he examines it. "is this glass?"

well. at least some of the white honey had gotten into his blood, even if it was only a few drops.

jaskier throws it away from them, onto the other side of the river. which isnt best practices, but geralt isnt well enough to say anything about it. "let's rinse your mouth out, now, darling." he says gently, bringing geralt's awareness back to the burning pain in his mouth. the water is cool and sweet as he brings it to his lips-- too sweet. it almost tastes honeyed, after the seering sour of his own bile. he does what he needs to-- sips, swishes, gargles and spits until the water comes back clear and the fire starts to ebb, and through it all jaskier holds back his hair.

still, fire rages between his eyes, and he presses his palm against the spot as he groans. "is it your nose?" jaskier asks, rubbing between his shoulder blades soothingly. "here, i brought something-- we'll need to scrub it very thoroughly afterwords, maybe just buy a whole new one in fact, but--" he digs through the bag and produces the little teapot that was part of his camping set. "i figure we could use this to... flush the area out." that definitely makes him look a bit green in the gills, but he fills it with cool water with determination.

it's a disgusting process. even geralt would admit that. he tilts his head back obligingly, though, offering himself up to jaskier's care.

it burns just as much as the vomiting had, and he coughs and splutters, lashing out blindly as he turns his head to the side. gagging, coughing, something moves inside him, and he chokes on air as he gags violently. finally, into the palm of his hand, he expels a lump of congealed phlegm, yellow and green and streaked with blood. he touches the side of his face. he's bleeding inside. jaskier gags when he sees it, desperately trying to keep himself together, but he gasps when he comes to the same realization geralt has.

they repeat the process until the water comes out clean. his face aches, his throat feels like someone's taken a battering ram to it, and his nose won't stop running(but it's clear instead of vaguely pink like it had been a minute ago, which is reassuring). somewhere along the way, though, the burning had stopped. whatever residual potions trapped in his system have been cleared out, no longer burning a hole through him, and his breathing begins to even out. jaskier murmurs reassurances, though none of them register, exhaustion dogging geralt's mind.

he's moved once more. a towel dries him as much as possible, and then is secured around his waist by gentle hands. his feet are coaxed into shoes of some kind, though they arent his boots. somehow jaskier carries geralt and his gear back to camp, though geralt's in and out for the few minute long journey.

the rain's stopped, he thinks as he tilts his head back and stares at the empty sky.

jaskier putters around camp when they return, and geralt leans against a tree as he waits. he's coaxed over to his bedroll, and then into clean clothes. his feet are removed from the shoes, and put in clean socks. jaskier gets up to do something, and geralt stares at the shoes.

theyre nice. fancy. they're... jaskier's. something he wears to events. a little stretched out, now geralt's used them. he gave up his fancy shoes, so geralt could keep his feet clean on the walk back to camp. a complicated swell of emotions rises in geralt's chest as he examines the intricate beadwork on the shoes jaskier might never wear again, green and metallic against spring green fabric and a soft cream color inside, and--

jaskier moves them out of geralt's sightline as he tidies up. "really, geralt, what would you have done without me?" he says.

collapse down into his bedroll and pass out, is the answer. and he wouldve been fine, in the morning, more cognizant and able to fix his pains then.

but it wouldve hurt more. it wouldnt come with gentle fingers brushing his hair out of his face. it wouldn't come with love and trust like a warm, warm blanket. he lets out a shuddering sigh.

"let's get some food in you, then you can sleep." jaskier presses some dry rations into geralt's hand, and the heel of a bread loaf. geralt eats them slowly, methodically, coming back to himself in pieces as his aching, spasming stomach is filled just enough to fend off the worst of the aches. a sip from the waterskin to wash it all down, and jaskier helps him lay down.

shuffling sounds fill the lean-to, and jaskier moves his own bedroll next to geralt's. gods help him, the silly little bard puts his own roll between geralt and the entrance, as geralt does when jaskier is ill, as if jaskier has any hope of defending him. he puts the beds so close the edges touch, and curls his fingers around geralt's arm as he lays down, hugging him close.

"sleep well, my dear." he says softly, and for the first time in a long time, as unconciousness slowly claims him, geralt feels nothing but peace.

#witcher tag #ogc tag #whew! it's been a while since i wrote something but i just got the bug w/ this idea. idk.#hope yall like it!#warnings that its perhaps a bit grosser than my usual fare tho i do think i couldve gotten more involved w/ my descriptions #witcher #geraskier #witcher fanfiction

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