Tumgik
#continuation
gu1destuck · 27 days
Text
GUIDESTUCK IS BACK!
Yep! You read that right! guidestuck is OFFICIALLY OFF HIATUS AND UNDER A NEW TEAM!!!
welcome to guidestuck^3!
Thanks to our director, @gewbz we can finally continue the beloved series! we have the first few panels up and we now have an ost in the making! please come join us in this journey as we continue to work our best for you guys in guidestuck^3!
Thank you, Goodbye! - Harvey
Tumblr media
342 notes · View notes
tzitzimitl-eztli · 6 months
Note
Add on to my last ask: Maybe Freddy is cold too, and they warm each other up!
andd the next part the continue of the lost child - warm
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
1K notes · View notes
villain-enthusiast · 15 days
Note
Hi Hello!! Would you please continue the snippet of villain finding hero dying? A lot of whump and caretaking would be great! (By the way.. just wanted to say this...I love your work!!)
so glad u enjoyed! hope this is also to your liking ☺️
part one
.
The hero came to with a start.
They shifted, groaning as their stiff muscles and joints ached. But they noticed that their body was comfortable, sinking into a soft mattress and swaddled in thick blankets—
Wait, what?
They blinked several times as fragmented memories flashed through their head, The blinding pain of the stab wound. Their broken comms. Blood, too much blood. They were going to die without help…
The villain. The villain finding them in the alleyway, gathering them up in their arms—
“You’re awake.”
The hero jolted, head whipping to the bedside, where the villain had apparently stood up from the chair behind them.
How long had they been waiting there?
They moved to prop themselves up, but the villain’s hands were immediately on their shoulders, gently urging them back down onto the stupidly comfortable bed.
“Don’t move too much. You’ll break the stitches,” the villain warned. They pulled the blanket covering the hero’s torso away to examine the bandages wrapped around their side.
It was then the hero realized that they had been scrubbed clean and given a new pair of sweatpants, every cut and scratch from their recent altercation carefully dressed.
Their eyes met the villain’s in silent questioning.
You did all this for me?
“I swear I didn’t look,” the villain blurted suddenly. “When I was bathing and changing you. I didn’t—.” They cut themselves off awkwardly, cheeks a little pink.
Oh, that’s not… Despite themselves, the hero smiled, or what they could attempt as a smile. Their jaw was incredibly sore from being socked twice in one day.
They opened their mouth to speak, to tell the villain that it was fine and that what they really meant was thank you—
The villain shushed them. “You have some bruising on your neck. It’ll hurt to talk. You should just rest.”
The hero scowled at them. “I—,” they attempted, and immediately regretted their choice as their swollen throat flared up.
The villain gave them a "told you so" look, and the hero leveled another glare at them.
It suddenly occurred to the hero how helpless they were. Can't move, can't speak. If the villain wanted to kill them, now would be the chance. Luring them into a false sense of security, giving them one last taste of comfort before—
“I just saved your fucking life. Stop looking at me like that.”
The hero frowned. Like what? they mouthed.
“Like you think I’m gonna kill you or something. I can be a half-decent person sometimes, y’know," the villain said. Their expression softened. “I’m not a monster.”
The villain's gaze flickered with something the hero couldn't quite place as they watched each other in comfortable silence. It was an understanding, in that moment, that the villain was not going to kill them, and that they had meant everything they said and more.
I couldn’t just leave you to die in that alleyway.
The villain sighed and turned to leave the room. Panic shot through the hero—they needed to say something to the villain, damn their throat—and before they could think twice about it, they reached out and took the villain’s hand in their own. Rough calluses from what was likely decades of training scraped against their palm.
The villain stared at them, but they didn’t pull away. Their fingers wrapped gently around the hero’s, cautious. Expectant.
“Thank you,” the hero croaked, “for saving me.”
The villain was silent for several heartbeats, watching the hero with those dark—so beautifully dark—eyes.
They took a breath, as if readying themselves for whatever they were going to say. “You mean too much to me," they finally said, voice low. "I'm not ready to let you go." Their hand lingered on the hero's, as if to seal their statement, to make a promise and keep it.
Then they released their hold, and the hero wished they could tell them to stay—that they wanted them to stay—but the villain was already closing the door behind them, and fatigue overtook them before they could process anything else.
When the hero awoke the next morning, the villain was nowhere to be found. But in the chair by their bedside, they found a fresh set of clothes, a cup of water, and a note:
Be back soon. - Villain
And though their jaw still ached, the hero smiled, fully and wholly.
181 notes · View notes
steph-speaks · 13 days
Note
I would absolutely die to see more of Paul x wife!reader from a Tiny Miracle 🫶🏼 it was so lovely, thank you!
Tumblr media
Author's Note: Glad you liked it! 🥰 I plan on writing more little blurbs like this that go along with A Tiny Miracle. 🫶🏻
Warnings: Not entirely canon-centric, mostly fluff, mentions of breastfeeding an infant
After the duel, the Fremen look after their Lisan al Gaib, treating his wounds and plying his torso with bandages. He wolfs down food and water, his appetite ravenous.
You had been on the verge of losing the contents of your own stomach when Feyd-Rautha had stabbed Paul. But while there there had pain in your husband's eyes, there was no fear. He stood at the ready.
He never looked more powerful to you than in that moment. Even the image of thousands of Fremen shouting his name in unison as he called them to war didn't compare.
Muad'Dib! Muad'Dib! Muad'Dib!
"Hey."
You murmur a noise of acknowledgment at your husband as he trails his fingers absently along your leg, covered by your slip and a thin muslin bedsheet. You're sitting up in bed, in the castle of Arrakeen, feeding your daughter. He lays on his side, peering up at the two of you with nothing but adoration in his face.
"I'm here," He says softly. "Not out there."
You sigh and nod, reaching to grasp his fingers. "I know. It's just been...a lot."
"There's more to come," He warns, eyes becoming unfocused. "Not today, but soon. And you can handle it, I know you can."
The prospect of him being able to forsee the future is still slightly unnerving but while you don't know all the details of it, you trust his judgment.
"Promise?" You ask softly.
He smiles and sits up, kissing your temple and looking at the baby. He stretches his pinky out and she grasps it with her tiny hand in a death grip. "I swear."
You nuzzle your face against his like a great big cat, feeling protective since his duel.
"She's so beautiful, isn't she?" You coo as the baby detaches from your nipple, her belly full and her eyes drooping. You adjust the strap of your slip back in place as you burp her, firm but gentle pats putting her to sleep.
"She gets it from her mother," Paul murmurs, eyes gleaming as you shoot him a look, making him snicker.
"The day you learn to take a compliment should be marked as a holy day."
"Oh, stop it." You chide half-heartedly, though you feel your heart squeeze with affection. "I've decided on a name."
"Tell me." His voice is laced with amusement as he watches you get up. He told you earlier he'd get you whatever you or the baby needed and he'd help you with caring for her, but clearly that was a losing battle.
"Yianna." You place her in the bassinet close by, easing back into bed. "I asked Jessica if she recalled any names from Leto's—well, your family tree. We thought the name of your great-grandmother seemed lovely."
All the documents and holophotography in the castle pertaining to House Atreides had been destroyed in the castle, so anything Paul and Jessica remembered about their house would have to suffice until he could access the Bene-Geserit's library.
It didn't matter, really. Everything he needed now was here, with him. His wife, his daughter. He had no need or desire to look through his family's past.
"It is lovely." He kisses your bare shoulder once you settle back under the sheets. "My father used to talk about her. He said she was always sneaking him sweets when his mother wasn't looking. She died when he was young."
The smile you grace him with is sad. "I would've loved to have met Leto."
"He would've adored you." Paul notes, pulling you closer. "He loved the arts. Could talk for hours about it."
You think about the man you've only seen from a half-charred portrait and wonder what it would have been like, seated at a table across from your father and mother-in-law, your hand clasped by their son and womb heavy with their grandchild.
Your own paradise. You dream of it as you curl up next to Paul, careful to not put much weight on his side wound. The sound of his steady heartbeat and the random gurgle of Yianna puts you to sleep.
Tumblr media
369 notes · View notes
mensfactory · 9 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
1930 Bentley Speed Six Continuation Series prototype
416 notes · View notes
Text
Tumblr media
183 notes · View notes
suzylind · 7 months
Text
Tumblr media
👀 Hmm, what may this be?
334 notes · View notes
lilybug-02 · 9 months
Text
Deltarune… But Sesame Street… Again!
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Part 1
I think "DeltaStreet" would have a big cast of actual kids. Much like Sesame Street, to have the children be more comfortable. Valuable life lessons and fun adventures ensue!
Cursed Early CGI Queen
Tumblr media
214 notes · View notes
ashrodisiac · 7 months
Text
"How many likes do you think this will get you?"
(⁠つ⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)⁠つ ...
Ashs note:
my health teacher screamed at the whole class after we told her we didnt get enough sleep and we werent mentally stable😨
BTW: THIS IS NOT PART 2. JS A LITTLE THING I DID WHILE IN CLASS.
Tumblr media
"Obviously my account would get banned, the fuck do you think this is? Pornhub? This is fucking youtube!"
"Well shit. Wouldn't it have gone the same way if you posted me full-on naked?"
"I wasn't obviously gonna do it, dumbass."
"Then why did you call me on discord and come to my house to take the picture?"
"..."
"That's what I thought."
123 notes · View notes
mugloversonly · 2 months
Text
@steddieas-shegoes I loved your ficlets about the boys after a mutual ending. But as much as I love sad boy hours...I can't stand my boys staying sad. So I wrote a happy ending that I hope you enjoy.
rating: G
if you see a typo I probably saw it and didn't fix it. Enjoy!
Steve groaned as the ringing phone woke him up. He glanced out his window and saw it was barely sunrise.
He ignored the phone for a minute until he heard the machine pick up. The voice he has been longing for for six months came through. "Hey Steve, it's Eddie." Steve shot off the bed and ran towards the phone his heart racing. "I know it's a little out of the blue for me to be calling, but I" Steve yanked the phone off the hook, interrupting whatever he was going to say.
"Eddie, hi" Steve exclaimed breathlessly. Eddie gasped and went silent. "Sorry, the phone woke me up". Steve glanced at the clock and was relieved to see that it was still early.
"Oh, shit. Sorry I forgot about the time difference."
"Don't worry about it. I'm glad to hear from you." Steve said suddenly feeling shy.
"Yeah?" Eddie asked. Steve recognized that tone. He can perfectly imagine Eddie pulling a chunk of hair in front of his mouth.
"Yeah, I was actually going to call you today. Looks like you beat me to it." Steve smiled as Eddie let out a small chuckle.
"Great minds and all that. So I was wondering" Eddie began before pausing to take a deep breath. "You can totally say no and I would understand…I mean I get it after everything…I just…well I wanted to know if you'd want to maybe…" he trailed off. Steve blinked tears from his eyes and took a leap.
"Would it be alright if I came to a show?" Steve blurted. Eddie was quiet on the other end. IF it wasn't for his breathing, Steve would have thought he hung up.
"You want to?" He breathed.
"Of course. What are the dates and times of all your upcoming shows?" Steve asks. Eddie rattles off a few places. He has a show tomorrow in Miami. Would it be weird for Steve to go all the way to Miami last minute? Probably. Fuck it. He's waited for long enough.
"There's the show in a month in Chicago. We can meet up then. But, I'll have a ticket waiting for you at all the shows just in case". Just then someone called Eddie in the background. "One sec!" He shouted back. "I have to go" he sounded reluctant. Like if they hung up, he would never see Steve again.
"I get it. I'll see you soon okay, Eds?" Steve whispered the nickname. Eddie's breath hitched.
"Yeah, soon" his voice was thick like he was trying to keep from crying. Steve smiled fondly. His Eddie was always quick to tears. "Bye, Stevie. I…I'll see you soon." He promised. Steve heard another shout and then all he heard was the dial tone. He took a moment to collect himself before making his way to the stairs. He had a concert to get to.Steve smiled fondly.
~~~
Eddie paced the floor of the green room. Steve wanted to come to a show. In fact he asked Eddie! He wasn't sure if Steve would even want to talk to him, let alone see him again. He knew they both agreed to this separation, but he worried Steve would grow to hate him. He's never been more glad to be wrong. At least, he hopes he's wrong. Someone wouldn't fly last minute just to say they hated someone. Right? And someone wouldn't fly half way across the country for someone he could see in a month. Either way, he expected to see Steve in Chicago. A PA knocked on the door to give him a 5 minute warning.
And to tell him that Steve picked up his ticket. Eddie froze. He hadn't expected Steve to come all the way to Miami. Eddie shook his head and directed the PA to have Steve escorted to the green room after the show. He also made sure to tell her to bring Steve a cup of his favorite mint tea and to tell him that Eddie would be there as soon as the meet and greets are over. She nodded and went on her way.
He made his way to take his place with the band. Before they could go on he blurted "Steve's here." The rest of Corroded Coffin stared at him in silence. They couldn't say anything before they got their cue to begin. All four boys made their way to the stage. Eddie in the center.
"Hello, freaks of Miami!" Eddie shouted into the mic. "You ready for this shit?" There was a roar in the crowd as he hit his first chord. His eyes scanned the crowd until he spotted Steve. His beautiful Stevie looking just as out of place as usual with his polo and light wash jeans. He tried his best to keep his gaze away but his eyes were always drawn back to him.
He felt like he spent the whole concert looking right at Steve. Maybe he had.
All in all, the show was great. They got a huge round of applause and gave two encores. By the end, Eddie was jittery. He wanted to get this meet and greet over with. Ever loyal to his fans, he didn't let on to anyone that he was in a rush. The only people who saw how off he was was the band. And they didn't comment.
Finally, after what felt like hours, he made his way to the green room. He took a deep breath before he knocked twice. Then he opened the door.
Standing on the other side was a sight from his dreams. "Stevie" he whispered, breathless.
"Hey, Eds." Steve replied with a shy smile. Tears filled Eddie's eyes and before he could think, he launched himself into Steve's arms. Steve caught him with barely a stumble, his jock reflexes coming in handy. He couldn't say anything as the tears poured down his face. He felt his shirt getting damp and knew Steve was crying too.
"I'm sorry, baby. I'm so sorry." Eddie cried. "I shouldn't have left, I should have waited." Steve gently pulled back and cupped Eddie's face.
"No love" he whispered as he wiped Eddie's cheeks. "I should have come with you. I was scared. I thought it would be less scary to stay then to leave. But I was wrong." He pulled Eddie back into the hug. "I missed you and I have never felt fear like I did while we were apart. I'm ready to follow you anywhere." He promised.
It was Eddie's turn to pull back. "Are you sure?" He asked. Steve smirked and pointed to the corner. Eddie looked over and saw two huge suitcases and a large dufflebag. He met Steve's eyes and smiled.
He couldn't hold back another second. Eddie caressed Steve's cheeks before pulling him in for a sweet kiss. Steve's lips were soft against his and as they moved with each other, Eddie finally felt at home. It was a chaste kiss, until Steve licked the seam of his mouth. Eddie opened to grant Steve access and he didn't waste his opportunity to kiss Eddie breathless. After a few minutes Eddie reluctantly pulled back and rested their foreheads together.
"Come back to my hotel?" Eddie asked. They had a lot to talk about, and the venue's green room was not the place.
Steve nodded and they took a cab to Eddie's hotel. Once there, Steve asked to use the shower and Eddie pointed him in that direction. As he waited he sat on the bed, his chest felt lighter than it had in months.
When Steve stepped out of the bathroom, Eddie took his turn. As he got in the shower, he saw Steve's shampoo on the shelf next to his. He let out a wet laugh and reached for it. Somehow he knew that Steve had used his shampoo too. As he washed his hair, Eddie knew. Things would be alright. His dream was finally a reality.
Fin
62 notes · View notes
abrokenherocomplex · 4 months
Text
(prequel) before the dawn
prequel to in the dark
The villain stirred awake, blinking to adjust their eyes to the darkness before they clicked on their bedside lamp. Illuminated opposite them, the hero thrashed in their bedsheets crying out wordlessly. The villain shook their head as if to be sure it was not a dream. When was the last time they’d seen their roommate in their own bed?
The villain had assumed the hero had been sleeping somewhere else. Chez some paramour or other – the hero certainly wasn’t lacking in that department. This was different. And certainly not a dream.
Their feet hit the cold floor before their brain could keep up. They approached the hero’s side of the room as the hero thrashed again with a wordless cry.
Wincing, the villain shook the hero’s shoulder. At the touch, the hero gasped awake, sitting up with such force that the villain stumbled back a step. The hero looked around wildly, trying to take in their surroundings.
“It’s okay, you’re alright,” the villain’s first instinct was to sooth, approaching softly. “Uh, you’re in the dorm,” they tried.
Sweat slicked the hero’s brow. They trembled, though the rise and fall of their chest slowly evened out after a moment.
“I-” they managed. “I was dreaming, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry,” the villain replied cautiously. “Are you… alright?”
“I’m fine,” the hero replied, rubbing a hand over their tired eyes. “Really, you can go back to bed.” They pointedly didn’t make eye contact.
The villain raised their eyebrows. “So, you can wake me up with another nightmare?”
“I don’t need you to sooth my nightmares.”
“Fine. I take it you’ve been sleeping well, then?” The villain pushed.
“Oh, shove off.”
“I’m just asking. Since I never see you, you know, actually sleep.”
The hero was silent.
“Do you want to talk about it?” The villain asked against their better judgement.  
The hero gave them a half-hearted glare.
“No soothing nightmares, I got it.” The villain replied, their hands up in surrender.
“You’re mocking me.”
“I’d never.”
The pillow hit the villain’s face before they could react. Even at – they glanced at the clock – 4 in the morning the hero had impeccable aim.
“Fine,” the villain said, shoving the pillow back towards the hero. “Good night.”
The hero turned over, grumbling something about roommates and minding their own business.
It wasn’t ten minutes after the villain had switched off the bedside lamp that the hero was awake again, jolting up in bed and gasping for air like it was their lifeline.
“What the fuck,” the villain said, switching the light back on and sitting up in their own bed. “What is going on?”
The hero pointedly ignored the villain’s stare as they forced breaths in and out.
“Fine, don’t tell me. Just interrupt my REM cycle why don't you - ” the villain deadpanned before they caught the hero’s gaze slide to the bedside lamp. “… Do you want me to keep this on?”
“That-” the hero caught their breath, nodding. “That would be good.”
The villain laid back down, studying their roommate. “Huh. You know everyone’s afraid of something. Nothing to be ashamed of.”
The hero squeezed their eyes shut, as if willing themselves to be anywhere but here. “Ah yes, the dark. Terrifying.” They attempted a light joke. It fell flat. “What are you afraid of, then?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
If anything, that seemed to snap the hero out of their semi panic. They glared at the villain; a challenge posed. “I would, actually.”
“I’m sure you’ll find out.” The villain turned over. “Go to sleep.”
Surprisingly, the hero did.
~
@excessive-vampires kind of what you wanted?
@written-by-jayy a tag for you <3
76 notes · View notes
the-apology-dance · 7 months
Text
Crowley Can See Stars (Part 2)
I am furthering the idea of Crowley’s vision and have a headcanon I am in LOVE WITH and that he is partially colorblind due to his snake eyes, and has deuteranopia. He has two cones in his eyes that are able to define primary colors. This would be unlike a human, who has three functioning cones in their eyes allowing them to see THREE. Red, Green, and Blue.
Crowley’s color-blindness would make his vision sensitive to the colors Blue and Yellow. He would possess an insensitivity to green light, therefore making it very difficult for Crowley to differentiate greens, reds, and yellows.
Example:
Tumblr media
The top would be what Crowley would see as an Angel. The bottom would be what Crowley sees in the present with his snake eyes. Browns, yellows, and blues would be his spectrum when it comes to colors.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
He would pretty much see Aziraphale in full color, as he dresses in beige clothes, has very light hair, and blue eyes. Crowley would in fact, see WHITE in the rainbow. I personally love how nebulae look in Crowley’s eyes as a snake. The stars are still visible to him, and even being colorblind, the stars are quite beautiful.
This couples in with my headcanon of Azi having star shaped pupils.
I would honestly LOVE to see fanart of Crowley with his color blindness. Him believing he has curly brown hair, and yellowish eyes which are around the same shade. Aziraphale having the prettiest periwinkle eyes to him and almost blinding white hair. (Pls credit me for the idea if you do decide to draw this❤️✨)
(I plan on writing a fanfic about this very topic so if any of you do write fanfiction and would be interested in this, let me know. Crowley would see the stars as a pretty periwinkle shade and believe that they are just slightly purple-ish. Which I think is precious.🐍💫)
125 notes · View notes
fan-dweeb · 5 months
Text
Hawks: Hey hey what’s your name
Dabi: Colonel Sanders
Hawks: Idk whether to be disappointed in you not trusting me or impressed that you know the founder of KFC off the top of your head
Hawks: Either way, you are a deeply mistrusting person
Hawks: And I respect that
116 notes · View notes
the-darkest-carnival · 5 months
Text
( @aileaxthevoidien ) *he shrugs* I dont remember what people eat normally, so uhhhh... you'll have to wait for food.
77 notes · View notes
radioactivepeasant · 1 month
Text
Free Day Friday: Viper continuation
Picking up from Here
Thrax scarcely recognized the city anymore. In the five years since his banishment for questioning the research into dark eco, he'd sort of assumed nothing would change, not really. But the Haven he crept through now was barely half of what he'd left behind. The slums were gone, replaced by gleaming modern architecture and locked behind force fields. He'd thought it was to keep the displaced rabble out until he saw the first metalhead lounging on a filthy street corner. Until he saw the crushed remains of the Stadium, the Grand Hotel, the museum-! The Palace District of Main Town was destroyed.
How far Praxis must have fallen before the end! Thrax found himself, to his surprise, hoping the old fool had met a hideous death at the hands of Damas’s pet demon. The count was right, he was an abomination, but that was more Praxis's fault than the monster's, to his mind. Praxis made it out of some kid who didn't get a say in the matter. In his own way, Thrax felt sorry for Jak. But sympathy for demons didn't get you far in life.
Bitterly cursing the cold, Thrax pulled his scarf higher and found himself turning down an alley in search of things to burn. He should have been home by now. Well, not home, his old penthouse from his days in the Guard had a support beam impaling the top three floors now. Somewhere better, perhaps, in New Haven. He'd even have accepted military barracks if it came with the proper pay and respect! That had been the promise, that was to be his reward: all that Praxis had stripped from him restored. And all he'd had to do was kill that weakling Damas.
Only, Damas wasn't a weakling anymore. He was as harshly pragmatic as Praxis had ever been. Ruler of a land of barbarians! It was madness! Honestly, Thrax would have been relieved to have Haven destabilize and assume control of the city. But now...now, he doubted Haven had anything close to the manpower that would require. No wonder assassination had been suggested instead!
And he'd failed, pure and simple.
Thrax was no fool, he knew his glorious homecoming was contingent on him holding up his end of the bargain. Still, he couldn't help a sullen thought that he might have succeeded if Veger hadn't sent the monster straight to Damas’s doorstep like a housewarming present.
There were two other people huddled around a barrel at the end of the alley, burning garbage for warmth. They didn't acknowledge him at first, until the light flickered off his tattoos. One of them swore and kicked at him.
"Get out of here!" The kick unbalanced him and his friend caught his elbow. "KG scum! Metal-lover! Go back to hell!"
Something grated high above their heads. The sound of a boot on a slate shingle. Even with the heat of the fire in his face, Thrax suddenly felt cold. What forgotten instinct warned him not to look up? That he had no time to look?
The shingles cracked.
Thrax ran.
For once, he was grateful for the grueling, brutal training Damas forced candidates to endure before he allowed them to enter the desert alone. A Havenite -- gods, when had he stopped thinking of himself as a Havenite? -- would never have been able to clear the fallen masonry, or the burnt-out husks of hellcats that littered the streets. A mantis-head took a swipe at him from the shadows of a fallen archway, and Thrax lost his footing as he dodged.
He landed hard, skidding down a short drop that had once been part of the road. In the two seconds required to pick himself up, Thrax saw what his instincts had been warning him about.
The monster. The child-soldier. Jak.
He leapt from the awning of what used to be a racing memorabilia shop, landing with a predatory grace that momentarily froze Thrax. His creepy talking Teacup Mine-rat hunched on his shoulder -- everyone said there was no such thing as Mine-rats having a teacup breed, but they were the only animal he'd ever seen with those proportions and that nauseating shade of orange -- watching him with those beady little eyes. In an almost careless move, the rat pointed out the mantis-head that had knocked Thrax down. The monster shot it in the head after only glancing in its direction.
The spell was broken. Thrax ran down the cracked and sunken crater that the road had become, desperately scanning the horizon for a place to hide. He was too far from New Haven -- not that the elite would have any compunction to help him when he'd failed his mission -- and he could see metalheads and those Krimzon robots blocking many of the avenues he could have used for escape. Stopping to shoot them would give the monster time to catch up.
Thrax knew what the abomination was capable of. He'd seen what happened to his co-conspirator. Dropped like a stone as they tried to flee, obsidian claws buried in the base of their skull while watched by the pitiless eyes of whatever evil spirit the boy had become. Would those same claws paralyze him, too? Drag him back to the desert to die or worse? Or would death be swift?
No, no he couldn't think like that. He had to escape. He had to hope for a way to kill the thing. Thrax charged into another alley, hoping against hope that a door would be open or unlocked. If he could get inside, his chances of survival would dramatically increase.
The Precursors, however, did not favor him that day.
The alley ended at a wall of twisted rebar and half melted plastics, fused together with foul acids secreted by the metalheads. A panicked whine escaped Thrax's throat as he whirled, already knowing what would be behind him.
But there was nothing.
That did not calm his nerves. Where was the creature? Thrax's eyes rolled back and forth, scanning every shadow. His breath came in shallow pants as he backed up, fumbling for his morph gun.
Then came the sound of boots on shingles again.
He had forgotten to look up.
Jak dropped silently, driving his knee into the fugitive's back. Thrax fell with a cry, gun clattering from his hand and onto the ruined cobblestones. He was under no obligation to bring Thrax back alive -- they'd gotten most of the information they needed out of the monk, Nadab. Damas had given him explicit permission to kill the would-be assassin if the situation warranted it. But at the same time, Jak had a suspicion. He was catching on to a greater trend of treachery within Haven, and he had a feeling Thrax knew who was behind it. All he needed was confirmation.
"Do your worst, abomination," Thrax gasped, clawing for any shred of courage he had left. "I do not fear death."
"Captain."
Thrax faltered. "What?"
Jak flipped him over so that their eyes met. His eyes were cold, and in the darkness, Thrax wondered in a daze how they could look so much like Damas’s.
"It's Captain Abomination. If you're going to insult me, do it properly."
The rat snickered and nudged his head encouragingly.
"Now you have a very small window of opportunity here," Jak growled. "You tell me who put Nadab in contact with you, and you get a chance to give up your beacon with a shred of honor intact. If you have a shred of honor left."
"This is a limited time offer," Daxter warned.
Trembling, Thrax repeated, "I do not fear death!"
Jak smiled, but there was no humor in it.
"Yes you do."
He was right.
31 notes · View notes
Note
I need to know the context of 40. I need to. 👀
ok so what i'm hearing is... more vague continuation with a slight sprinkle of exposition if i'm feeling nice?
Part 1
40 - Part 2
Henchman lay flat on their back, staring up at the ceiling. Beside them, Villain was breathing softly and evenly as they slept, their hand slung possessively yet carelessly over Henchman's body.
Henchman wanted to lean into their touch, to melt into them, so so badly. But they couldn't.
Tears sparked in their eyes. Villain's hand slipped off them and hit the mattress with a soft flump as they rolled onto their side, facing away from them. They would not let them see them cry. They could have everything else - everything, but Henchman would not cry.
They groaned, far too awake to try to sleep now. They swung their legs out of the side of the bed, ignoring the slippers left for them by Villain despite how soft and comfortable they looked. Of course they were helplessly, hopelessly, irreversibly Villain's, but they could at least pretend otherwise.
They crossed to the window, pulling the curtains open just enough for them to slip through onto the window seat. They sat there for a while, silently gazing up at the clouds covering the moon, dozing with their head against the wall. It was almost peaceful.
"Henchman?"
Henchman started, unsure if they'd fallen asleep or just zoned out. They blinked up at Villain sleepily. "Hi."
Villain paused for a moment, tilting their head to the side. "What are you doing?"
"Couldn't sleep?" Henchman offered. They turned to stand up, their head resting against Villain's chest so that they wouldn't have to meet their eyes.
Villain pressed their cheek against the side of Henchman's forehead. "I'm sorry." they said, so softly that Henchman almost thought they imagined it.
They let out a soft breath in response.
Villain pulled back, running their hands up and down Henchman's bare arms. They didn't know if the goosebumps had risen from their touch or from the cold. Unusually tender eyes gazed into Henchman's. "Come back to bed?"
145 notes · View notes