#I hope this was good hehe

[another-clive-blog]

Waiwaitwait what if Clive got killed in his own fake shootout at the casino?

You got Clive thinking about how he didn’t plan on dying, Luke seeing “himself” die, Dimitri wondering where his accomplice is when they show up at the pagoda, and the mobile fortress… uh. I don’t know what happens to it since Clive is dead.

Claire could come in as their guide where Clive would have been.

technically i used this for a story about claire in a time loop where clive keeps dying despite her trying to stop it but it’s fun as a standalone idea

!!! Oooh this is the good good stuff. I know you're here for Clive dying so I focused on that, but I am definitely doing a Dimitri part in the future 👀 Thank you for the idea !! (Also I'm keeping this fic rec hehe)

List of TW : Gunshots, gun wound, mention of death, blood. No graphic injury description besides the blood, no medical stuff (this takes place in a casino after all). Also I've never died before so this may not be accurate, my apologies

(On a very related note and contrary to what these past few days may indicate, I am not stopping the silly meme redraws and regular fanarts. I'm back from work so I can start working on these again !!)

Layton hid behind a slot machine, clenching his teeth as bullets wheezed all around him. He hated the very thought of leaving Luke alone in the middle of this battlefield, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.

The other Luke should have been close by. He had taken a late start because of that punch, yes, but he should have been able to catch up : and yet, Hershel couldn't see him anywhere.

He had a feeling the solution to this puzzle wouldn't be a pleasant one.

Seeing an opening, Layton left his hiding spot to run across the casino, his focus split between the bullets flying by and the person he was looking for. A blue silhouette, probably hiding behind another slot machine, most definitely near the entrance of the casino-

There.

He almost missed him because he wasn't wearing his blue hat -it must have fallen at some point when he ran for cover-, but once he had spotted him, Hershel didn't waste any time. Stepping next to Future Luke, the professor immediately pressed his back against the slot machine to occupy less space, to make himself harder to spot too. This hiding spot was- well, not quite good, to put it that way. Bullets were flying dangerously close. Machines were falling apart, revealing their presence to their enemies. They had to move fast or they would soon be cornered.

A swear caught his attention, and Hershel turned to his apprentice with a frown.

When he saw the state he was in though, it seemed to him that the bullets were so far away all of a sudden, even though they had suddenly gotten far too close at the same time.

Future Luke sat on the ground next to him, shaking and sweating and swearing under his breath. His clumsy hands were trying and failing to compress a specific spot on his chest, one that was turning more and more crimson each passing second.

The professor stopped thinking.

"When did you get hit ?" he asked quickly while taking the younger man's jacket off, making sure not to add to his tremors.

Future Luke watched as Layton pressed the blue fabric against his stomach. "A- I-," he struggled to mutter, which was both ridiculous and humiliating, "Few minutes- I think"

The professor only nodded, brows furrowed in silence.

Clive could see the math the professor was doing, the way he was recalling knowledge about biology and firearms and fatal injuries- although this injury was hardly fatal, really, not with the professor here.

"Professor-" he wheezed, "You have- to save me"

Layton's eyes went up, watching his face for a second, then down again, to the blue fabric that wasn't blue anymore. "I am trying to, my boy."

Oh, funny. Did he call Luke his boy ? Did he see Luke as some sort of son, or was it more of a mentor-apprentice kind of thing ? Had this been a slip-up, or was he too his boy, despite not being this professor's apprentice ?

Wait. He wasn't anyone's apprentice. He wasn't Luke, he meant nothing to them, the professor didn't even remember him. He could die here and no one would mourn him- the actual him. "You- you have to," he muttered in panic because it was finally kicking in, the realization that all of this was play pretend but the bullet wasn't, he was going to die, he was going to actually die here in this stupid and meaningless place- "Professor you have to- you have to save me again-"

Layton put a hand on his shoulder, trying to calm the boy. "Not so loud, they could hear you."

Oh right, because the shooting was still going on, the plan was still going on, it didn't matter if Clive died in the middle of it now did it ? Dimitri didn't need him, right ? None of them had bothered to spare him, to give him enough time to stand up after that first punch because it was so much easier to shoot him while he was down.

"I- I can't die. It can't end like- like this," Layton heard the young man say- but it didn't sound like denial this time.

It sounded like anger.

It was odd, Layton realized, how different he was. So commanding and self-righteous. Without the blue hat and the blue vest, now entirely red, he almost looked like someone else entirely- like he had never been Luke in the first place.

Layton was glad that Luke wasn't here.

Of course, that was the moment the boy chose to arrive.

"Professor !!" Luke was breathless, panicked tears in his eyes : he was looking back in fear because the bullets had not stopped, how long could they keep going for ? "Professor, you-"

Luke's eyes fell upon his dying future self.

Layton loosened his grip on the vest as he tried to divert his apprentice's attention instead.

Clive did not look at either of them, too busy bleeding out on the ground.

He felt very weak suddenly, which was definitely because the professor wasn't compressing his wound anymore. He tried to do it himself, but his arms remained still on the ground.

"Professor-" He needed him to compress the wound. Why was he talking to the kid ? Clive was right there, bleeding out, and he needed the professor to save him- why wasn't the professor saving him ?? Layton was supposed to do something, to make him all better and maybe things would finally go well then !

"You can't die !!" The kid was at his side now, and yep, he was crying. Marvelous. "You are me, and therefore you can't die !!"

That didn't make any sense, but he couldn't even tell him that much. He felt weak- no actually, he wasn't even sure he felt weak anymore. He couldn't feel much of anything in his body and mind, even the pain seemed like a distant memory now.

"Luke, you shouldn't look-" The professor said, and was he trying to hold the kid back ? Why had he let go of the vest ? Why wasn't anything working ?

Dimitri would make fun of him- he could already hear him. He would say that he was always trying to be dramatic, and that maybe this would teach him a lesson. And Clive would answer that Dimitri was wrong because well, Clive was right, had been right all along, the professor had saved him and Dimitri really couldn't say the same, now could he ? The professor had always been there to fix Dimitri's mistakes. He had always made the world a better place. He had come here of all places to play his part, play his role, and stop them- save them. He would save Clive, just like he always had. And then Dimitri would feel stupid, like he deserved to, and he would apologize. And Layton-

"I am sorry," Clive heard somewhere next to him, and farther away there was crying. Turning his head with great pain, he managed to see the professor looking at him regretfully, holding back a devastated teenage boy in his arms. "I can't help you."

Clive watched the professor. His sorrow. His grip on the young boy who was fighting to try and do something, anything.

An image formed in his mind. He couldn't see it. It was already too dark.

The last words his brain registered were an apology.

[obsob]

bedtime story with my love !!

[sainz100]

2024 Brazilian GP | x

[wis-art]

fishing and proud

[turtletoria]

i love you weird girls . if anyone is mean to you destroy them

[lilybug-02]

Looks like the entire household is together! I wonder where Miss. Toriel is?

Part 25 || First || Previous || Next

--Full Series--

A fun continuation! Lots of crazy vibes. Due to school, I'll be taking another month/months hiatus. I should really stop making so many cliffhangers ;P

[unhappy-sometimes]

okay last one, good night

[nothingofpracticalgardening]

20 Versions of Sherlock Holmes Ranked from Most to Least Likely to Set a Building on Fire in a Fit of Rage

[somerandomdudelmao]

as a writer i gotta say I think you're pretty brave for reading and encouraging people to analyze your character! I personally would be reading all these submissions and be going 'oh no oh no they all have such high expectations and think its so deep but its not going to live up to what they're hoping for'

Well, even if the cake doesn't turn out to be as big as they expect, they'll still enjoy the taste of it ',:)

[q1ngqve]

idk if you take requests but like..........

dr ratio x bratty gf,,,, perhaps a bit of daddy/sir kink as well,,,,,,,, you're really good at writing him like i literally luv your work :3

(btw sorry if this isn't allowed)

ANON THIS IS SO (>/////<)♡

CW; fem! reader, implied relationship, bratty reader, sir kink, manhandling, murder, choking, knife play, fear play, biting?, vaginal penetration (with the knife & his dick), orgasm denial, slight degradation but he calls you pretty <3

do not, I repeat, do not act like a brat when you are with your boyfriend, unless you want to be completely and absolutely destroyed by him, verbally and physically. but where’s the fun in being good when you know how thrilling it is to rile him up?

veritas ratio’s eyes narrow as you prance around the room, giggling at something this random guy said, slapping him lightly on his arm. he’s not exactly one for jealousy, but when you’re so oblivious to the way other men are looking at you in your short skirt has his head going fuzzy with irritation.

truth is, you know exactly what you are doing. your boyfriend has been so caught up in his research the past few days he hasn’t had much time for you, and your fingers just aren’t enough to satisfy yourself. so consider this as punishment for not giving you the attention you needed.

the man’s lips graze your earlobe as he leans in, whispering something flirty that makes you sick in the stomach. you hide your face in his chest, acting as if you’re embarrassed, and wrap your arms around his waist.

before the man could slide his hands down your back, you were pulled away harshly by someone from behind, a small yelp leaves your lips as you’re dragged away and out the bar, tripping over yourself with almost every step from how fast he was walking.

your head whips up when the two of you finally stop, only to find your boyfriend glaring down at you, his hair tousled and brows furrowed, clearly displeased with your actions. you lock eyes with him, and a shot of electricity runs up your spine — ah, there it is, that delicious feeling of being hunted.

“get in the car.” and he’s gone.

you watch from your seat as he walks out of the bar ten minutes later, hair slightly wet, blood splattered on his jaw, his strides long and angry, and you feel yourself sink a little deeper into the leather seat.

silence fills the air as he drives, the tension so thick you could barely breathe. why is there blood on his face? did he just murder someone? oh god, it better not be that guy from before…did you just accidentally help in ending an innocent person’s life? you feel your body shake as you watch him from your peripheral, his jaw and shoulders relaxed, which is worse than when he’s mad and showing it.

you’re immediately dragged out of your seat when he stops, carrying and dropping you onto the hood of the car. his touch is gentle as he runs his fingers up to your chin, gripping at it harshly and forcing your head to tilt up uncomfortably to look at him.

your eyes adjust to the dimly lighted empty car park, legs closed shut as he towers over you, his shadows ungulfing your own on the hood. “what is that?” you break the silence with a stutter, your eyes flitting between his other hand and his face, body tensing at the sight of a bloody knife in his grip.

the man before you smiles softly, something he rarely does, so you know this is gonna be bad. “you like making me angry?” your lips part slightly at his question, knowing the answer is yes, but his aura is so terrifying that nothing leaves you other than heavy breathing.

his other hand grabs the underside of your knee, pushing your legs apart as he steps between your legs before leaning down even further, chuckling when your breath hitches at the intensity of his stare.

he flips your skirt up as he runs a finger up your already drenched underwear, the slick sticking to the pad of his finger. you squirm backwards when he lifts the knife, twirling it in his hand like a toy. “no— what’re you going to do with that?” the bloodied knife glistens under the dim white lights, and you swear his eyes turned a shade darker as he runs the tip down your neck, reveling at the sight of you trembling beneath him in fear.

“teaching you a lesson.”

your legs twitch involuntarily when the sharp blade reach between your legs, whines escape your lips as you feel it press softly against your entrace. tears sting your eyes, every inch of your body is telling you to run the moment he presses in harder, the thin fabric of your lace panties tearing immediately.

“‘m scared…”

veritas ratio laughs, the sound cruel and deep, straight from his chest. “this is punishment,” smirk returning to his face, making him look like a devil in disguise, “for acting like a brat.” a strangled gasp leaves you when he plunges the knife handle into your pussy, your walls tightening around the rubber like a vice.

oh god, there’s a knife in me, was all you could think of before he fucks it into you again and again, the rough textures rubbing deliciously against your gummy walls. the adrenaline heightening your senses, making this feel better than it should.

“you wanna act like a brat? wanna be a little slut and flirt with every guy you see? go ahead, be my guest. your boyfriend’s jaw finally clenches, allowing his anger and jealousy to take over as he bites at your collarbone, the stinging pain has you scratching at his biceps. “‘m sorry!” a flurry of apologies fly from your puffy lips as you cry from the pleasure and humiliation of having a knife making you feel like you’re in heaven.

“sorry, what?”

“sir— sorry sir!”

calling him ‘sir’ seems to bring out his animalistic side because the knife clatters on the concrete floor instantly, before being replaced by his dick. the air is knocked out of your lungs the moment he slides in, so long and thick, stretching you out nice and wide under him like a toy.

another whimper leaves you when he wraps his hand around your throat, squeezing tightly at the sides, successfully controlling the amount of air leaving and entering your lungs. panic fills you as you claw at this hand, tears streaming down your face like a waterfall.

“take it,” his other hand reaching down to circle your clit, “like the pretty little slut you are.” black dots fill your vision as you clench around him, getting off of everything that is happening to you.

your boyfriend groans above you as he cums, warmth engulfs you while he continues to pound into you, riding himself down from his high. “sir, ‘m close— please!” you manage to say breathily, your hips bucking into his on its own accord, chasing your high.

veritas ratio steps away in an instant and your eyes fly open at the empty feeling of your core, seconds away from your orgasm. “wait, no!” he flips your skirt down before kissing you roughly on your lips.

“only good girls get to cum.”

⭒ A/N — not proofread yet!

[omentu5]

[beaulesbian]

One Piece ep. 260 || "Even a monster like him isn't the leader of the group?"

+ bonus

[naffeclipse]

Argentate Bullet

Cryptid Hunter!Reader x Cryptid!Eclipse

Commission Info

I'm so excited to share this wonderful fic commissioned by @rosescarletful involving the cryptid hunter, cryptid Eclipse, and a night under the full moon. A monster lurks somewhere close! This is teeming with angst but such things make the hurt/comfort all the sweeter, I promise <3

Content Warning for angst, blood, body horror, and death.

———

In the dense woods outside of a small, rural town, you and your dear friend begin a hunt. A howl echoes and twigs crack. The silver light of the full moon mottles the forest floor as you follow Moon. His pale eyes flash red—he senses another human. The moment you step foot into a sparse clearing of half-dead meadow grass, your heart sinks.

A young man lies groaning in the darkness, curled up and cradling his chewed arm. Blood drips freely from mangled flesh and bitten sinew.

You should have been here sooner. The cryptid sighting suggested the violent nature of the monster as insatiable, senseless. A ceaseless need for bloodshed only spells ruin and grief for anyone caught in its path. You’ve handled werewolves before. They are perfect killers under the lustrous light of night. But they fall to silver.

Together, you and Moon help the young man to his feet. He babbles about a beast with fangs and yellow eyes. A horrible hunger growled within it. The monster snatched him from the road while he was peddling his bike at the late hour, and dragged him into the woods. Before it could finish him with a snap of its maw, it fled. He doesn’t know why. A sob escapes the young man.

You have no doubt the werewolf sensed the demonic cryptid using the animatronic as a vessel. Your dear friend has scared worse monsters.

You’re lucky you two arrived when you did, but you reassure him that he’s safe now. You set your gun loaded with an argentate bullet into the map pocket of your truck door. Leaning him against the driver’s seat, you quickly rummage for a basic first-aid kit—you curse yourself for not bringing more, but rarely do you find victims of cryptids alive after an encounter and you always endure long enough to reach your airstream.

“It’s going to be okay,” you promise. You hold yourself steady, hiding your fear at the blood seeping from the young man’s arm. He cradles it close to himself. “Can you tell me your name?”

Moon looms beside you, his eyes pale and flashing. He twitches. The end of his nightcap jerks slightly with the spasm of his faceplate.

“W-warren.” The young man swallows. His eyes shine wetly. The blood coating his ravaged arm gleams dark under the moonlight. “My wallet. I lost it by my bike. Please, I have pictures of my mom and dad in it. I need it.”

“Okay,” you soothe as you finally rip open a plastic red container. Bandages immediately roll to one side in your anxious search. “I’ll get it for you after we take you to the hospital. You’re bleeding badly.”

“Please, I need it now,” he gives a ragged gasp. He looks at you, desperation filling his shining gaze as his hands tremble, slick with blood.

Your heart squeezes within you at the familiarity of needing comfort in the height of terror. 

“Moon,” you say.

“It’s still out there,” Moon warns, his hand falling to your shoulder. His long silver and blue digits press into your collarbone. “It’s not safe.”

“I know, sweetie,” you face him. Though he stands much taller, you hold his wide, glowing gaze. “His bike can’t be far. Please, will you get it?”

He stares at you. A cool breeze blows before he releases your shoulder. 

“Be careful,” he warns, then slips around the truck and back onto the faded blacktop, disappearing around a bend following the forest’s edge.

You’ll thank him when he returns. Breathing a stabilizing sigh, you face Warren and ask for his arm. His eyes don’t meet yours for a moment. His attention follows the animatronic slipping into the darkness.

“It’s alright,” you say in a low, gentle voice. “Let me get you bandaged, and as soon as Moon returns, we’ll take you to get help.”

“W-who is that,” Warren asks shakily. His fingers writhe as you support his arm. 

“My friend,” you answer softly. “Don’t be afraid. I’ll take care of the scary thing. It won’t hurt you again.”

“Something isn’t right,” he whispers, terrified.

You lift your head. You fear he might pass out from the blood loss but you find his face turned towards the night sky. The moon hangs clearly in the black cosmos, big and looming like an omen.

“It’s okay, it’s going to be okay.” You hurry to tie up the bandage already soaking in crimson.

“No. It hurts.” Warren pushes you away and doubles over, clutching his face and shouting, “It hurts! Stop!”

You step back, hands up, stunned. What did you do? Why is he—

A sickening crack of bone echoes within Warren. You start, horrified, then your mind races.

No, it’s pop culture to believe a werewolf bite transforms another. There has been nothing legitimate within your research to conclude that a bite would be infectious, nor that it would trigger a transformation on the very same night. A human can’t become a cryptid.

He can’t.

Warren groans until his agonized sound slips into a high keen. A vicious growl overtakes him and rattles through your chest despite the distance. Your eyes dart to the Winchester gun stowed away in the map pocket of your truck door.

“Warren,” you say, holding out a hand and stepping closer, “It’s going to be okay—”

“Get away!” he snarls inhumanly. He swipes at you with his hand, now elongated. It bursts with a coat of fur and bears long, wicked claws. You leap out of his reach but stand weaponless.

No. It can’t be.

Warren crumples to the dirt ground. On his hands and knees, his cries of agony lift into a feral howl while the rest of his body bends and breaks. You watch, rooted in horror, as his clothes rip under the bulking strain of his new form while black fur overruns his flesh. Thick, rugged sinew cords his body. His face snaps as his jaw elongates into a muzzle. A flash of yellow eyes pierces you through the darkness. 

“Warren,” you utter. You start slowly stepping towards the bed of your truck, seeking cover—anything to put between you and the newborn werewolf. Your hands are held out. You glance again at your gun but the young man stops howling. 

He slowly lifts his head, sharp ears pinned back against his skull. Lips pull over fangs. A horrid growl stops your heart.

The werewolf hunches low and slowly pads forward. A glinting maw spills saliva. You stare at the poor young man, your pulse racing in your ears. He straightens, towering upon you with hunger glowing within inhuman eyes upon hound-like legs. The moonlight covers him in pale gray.

He lunges. You dive, throwing yourself behind your truck only to catch a wicked snap of teeth inches from your feet. A sharp inhale. Your veins burn with adrenaline. You twist back to find the werewolf rounding back, widening his jaw. He reaches a long limb forward and hooks his claws on the bummer of your truck. Vicious talons rip down the edge of it. You scramble, kicking your legs and crawling backward in your shock.

Swift footsteps cut through the darkness. The werewolf’s ears swivel before he turns a second too late. A flash of limbs, metallic and dripping black and red, knocks into the creature, sending it careening back towards the road until he rolls to a stop in a heap of furry limbs. 

You gasp in a flood of relief. Moon straightens. A wallet drops into the dirt. From out of his slim animatronic chassis, two arms, inky and clawed, spread out defensively over you.

“Moon,” you push yourself off the ground and onto your feet, “It’s Warren.”

“Get your gun.” Moon spares you a glance of bright red optics. “We shouldn’t have left you.”

There’s nothing you can say now. You breathlessly slip back behind your friend, rushing down the length of your truck. Moon’s many limbs writhe as he stares down the monster rising back to his paws with vicious growls.

Passing the claw marks carved into your bumper, you dart for your weapon. Behind you, a snarl rips across the road’s edge. Your heart leaps into your throat. You crash against the door and frantically pry out the Winchester from the map pocket.

The barrel gleams darkly in the moonlight. The smooth, carved handle holds intricate designs in the wood. You check with hands threatening to tremble that it’s still loaded. Hidden within is a shiny silver bullet.

You turn back to face the cryptid. In a powerful leap off his hind legs, the werewolf attacks. Moon lifts his four arms to catch the monster and hold it off, staggering back under the force. The snap of teeth nearly snags Moon’s nightcap and vicious claws swipe nearly slice through his chassis. You straighten, standing solid on your feet, and aim your gun. Your dear friend and the young man now cursed thrash together in a blend of demonic and lycanthropy. 

The werewolf towers over Moon who remains in his vessel, unable to spare a moment to escape the confines of it while fending off the vicious cryptid. You cry out a warning. 

In a heartbeat, the cryptid unbalances Moon, dropping him to the ground with a powerful blow of his large paw. The sharp clank of metal on the dirt freezes your blood. Red-dipped cryptid arms rake over the werewolf. Tufts of fur and flesh tear away but the monster gives no thought to the slashes as Moon unleashes an unearthly growl.

Your hands clench around the gun, pulse racing. The werewolf rears back under the moonlight, teeth exposed, jaws wide, and strikes for Moon’s spindly neck.

You squeeze the trigger. The echoing blast cuts through the night air, and a small hole within the werewolf bubbles blood, spilling down his chest. The werewolf slumps with a gurgle, then silence.

Moon grunts once before four limbs push the carcass off of him. With a meaty thump, the cryptid lies on the dirt, dead. 

You stare. Slowly lowering the gun, you stare unblinkingly. Tears brim your eyes. A haze of silver light and blood pooling underneath the furred cryptid overtakes you.

“Moon,” you say, your voice sounds strange, strained. “He wasn’t a cryptid. He was just bitten. He didn’t—He’s not—”

How can you shoot this monster when he’s just a person caught in very awful circumstances? All your other hunts were simple. They were only cryptids, not victims. 

You didn’t protect him.

You lower your hands. A hollowed coldness seeps into your chest cavity. The animatronic lies still as black ooze slips from crevices and cracks, accumulating into a lithe, towering figure with four limbs. Eclipse straightens slowly, watching you closely with red eyes glowing in the dark.

“Heart,” a deep rumble touches you, familiar and safe, but you shake. “You protected us.”

The demonic cryptid slips closer. His many hands reach for you, one trailing down your wrist before slipping the gun from your quaking grasp.

“He didn’t ask to become this,” your voice cracks.

“You didn’t know.” Two large, cool hands cup your face. Tilting your head up to meet their wide eyes, Eclipse softly growls, “It’s not your fault. If you didn’t stop him, he would have caused more harm. He would have joined the other monster in hurting people.”

Tears spill down your cheeks. You grasp his wrists, fingernails sinking into their dark red and deep blue being.

“I needed to—I should’ve—” you gasp a ragged sound, fighting a sob. “He didn’t deserve to die.”

“You did what was right, heart,” Eclipse’s wide jaw with razor-thin fangs lower to you. A crown of frills and horns tilt softly as they lightly flick a long, oily tongue to your cheek in comfort. “Please, don’t blame yourself. We shouldn’t have left your side. If we had stayed, we could have subdued him before he attacked.”

You cling tighter to their anchoring hold. A soft sound echoes as they set the gun on the truck seat before returning their lower arms to rest on your waist, gathering you close to cradle you against them. 

They bow over you. Four limbs, clawed and full of strength, keep you from falling. You press your cheek against their cool, slick chest. Weeping, you cave into their comfort while a young man lies dead in a form he never could have wanted for himself.

[crowlixcx]

There's an empty place in my heart It won't heal, it never fades away I'll go crazy, now you're gone

Now You're Gone by Basshunter - The Brainrot Series

(requested by @thesherrinfordfacility)

[ch1zzie]

The original in the bottom

Plus the picture I mainly drew but decided to draw the rest for funny

[gatoplaga]

"But beyond all my pain, there was you"

Narilamb designs: @runningwithscizzorz

here's an alt version of Narinder without the veil!! :D