#something something that one hammer from monster hunter

[lambmotifz]

am i the only one who doesn’t like normal/regular wincest au

because all the supernatural storylines are the main factor that makes their dynamic so special. wincest without horror elements just. isn’t wincest

[kaces-graham-crackers]

To Die For - Halloween Special

Monster Hunter Wednesday Addams x Werewolf Reader

Summary: Y/N, a lone werewolf, finds themself hunted by none other than Wednesday Addams of the infamous Addams Family—but this isn’t a typical chase. Wednesday wants to understand them. As they set a trap for a darker creature lurking in the woods, alliances blur, and both hunter and hunted face more than they bargained for.

Word count: 5.5k

The air was thick with the scent of pine and rain as you moved through the dense forest, your breath coming in sharp bursts. The moon was high, hidden behind clouds, but you didn't need its light. Every instinct and nerve in your body was attuned to the woods around you, heightened by the curse coursing through your veins.

You stopped, catching a scent—something unfamiliar, cold. It wasn't the usual wildlife or the damp earth. It was different. And it was close. You knew what it meant. They'd sent someone after you. And that someone was closer than you expected.

A figure stood on the edge of the clearing, watching with an intensity that made the hair on the back of your neck rise. Dressed in all black, she was still as stone, her pale skin almost ghostly in the shadowed forest. Her eyes, dark and calculating, were locked on you. She wasn't afraid, and she wasn't here to run. She was here for you.

Wednesday Addams.

You'd heard the name whispered through the underground networks of the supernatural. A hunter—someone who sought out the monsters that lurked in the shadows, just like you. Most avoided her, too afraid of her family's infamous reputation, but not you. You had faced far worse than a cold-hearted girl with a knack for finding trouble. And yet, something about her unnerved you. Without taking your eyes off her, you moved back a step, your pulse quickening. But Wednesday made no move to follow. She just stood there, her hands clasped neatly behind her back, as if she had all the time in the world to watch you squirm. "Running won't help you," she said, her voice low, almost a whisper. "I'll find you either way." You swallowed hard, your heart hammering in your chest. You'd outrun hunters before. But something told you Wednesday wasn't like the others. This wasn't just a hunt. It was a game to her. "I'm not in the mood for games," you growled, your voice low and rough as you fought against the pull of the full moon's power creeping under your skin. Wednesday's expression remained unchanged, her gaze gleaming in the dark. "Who said anything about games?" You weren't sure what it was about her—her calm, almost detached demeanor or how she watched you with that piercing gaze—but it made you uneasy. And yet, there was something else, too. Something that made your chest tighten in a way you didn't want to acknowledge.

But before you could say anything more, Wednesday took a step forward, closing the distance between you in one swift motion. "I'm not here to kill you," she said softly, her voice cutting through the tension like a knife. "Not yet." The unspoken implication hung in the air, thick and heavy. You clenched your fists, fighting the instincts rising within you—the urge to run, fight, and protect yourself. "Then what do you want?" you demanded, your voice sharper than you intended. Wednesday tilted her head slightly, her dark eyes fixed on yours with a calculating gleam. "I'm here to observe you." Her words stopped you cold. You'd expected a fight, a chase, something far more dangerous. But curiosity? Curiosity from someone like her? That was something you hadn't prepared for. You narrowed your eyes, trying to gauge her intention. "Observe me?" you repeated, disbelief lacing your voice. "What am I? A science experiment to you?" Wednesday's gaze remained unwavering, unreadable. "Something like that."

The forest seemed to still be around you, the air thick with tension. You felt the full moon's pull lurking just beneath your skin, a dangerous reminder of what you were. But Wednesday stood there, completely unphased, her calm presence unsettling. "And what happens when you've finished your little study?" you asked, your voice low, challenging. Wednesday's eyes flickered, but her expression remained controlled. "That depends on what I find." You let out a slow breath, realizing you wouldn't get a straightforward answer from her. Not yet, anyway. She was too clever, too controlled. The mystery of her intentions hung in the air, thick and unspoken, but it was clear this wasn't the usual hunt. Why me?" you asked, trying to keep your voice steady despite the gnawing unease crawling up your spine. Wednesday took another step forward, her gaze sharp and unwavering. "You're different. I don't hunt monsters just because they exist. I hunt them because they interest me. And you, well… you're fascinating." The word "fascinating" sent a shiver down your spine. It wasn't exactly comforting to know you were the subject of her twisted intrigue. But there was something else in how she said it as if she saw something far beneath your surface. "Different, how?" you asked, narrowing your eyes.

Her gaze never wavered, studying you like she could dissect your essence with a glance. "You don't embrace what you are. Most werewolves lose themselves to their instincts, run wild and reckless." Her voice was calm and calculated. "You maintain control—calm, aware, even rational." You bristled at her words, unsure whether to feel insulted or complimented. She was correct; you didn't give in to the hunt as others did. While your instincts were just as strong, you managed to channel them, a level of restraint that had taken you years to develop. "I've observed creatures like you before. But none who... moderate themselves," Wednesday continued, her tone clinical. "A werewolf who seems determined to remain civil." She tilted her head slightly, eyes narrowing. "I wonder… just how far that control extends." Her words hit something deep within you, stirring a mix of pride and resentment. You knew what she meant. To a hunter, a monster was expected to behave predictably, to follow their instincts blindly. But you were neither fully human nor beast—which seemed to disturb her. "Curiosity can get you killed, Wednesday," you replied, your voice steady despite the underlying challenge. You should leave me alone. Wednesday's eyes darkened slightly, yet her expression remained as controlled as ever. "You don't really have a choice. I'm not leaving until I figure you out."

You clenched your fists at your sides, feeling the familiar heat rising in your chest as the moon's pull grew stronger. But despite the anger building inside you, there was something else—a strange pull toward her, like a dangerous curiosity of your own. She wasn't like the others who had come after you. She wasn't here to kill or capture. She was here to… understand. And somehow, that made her more dangerous. You took a step back, unsure of how to proceed. But Wednesday, ever the enigma, took the choice out of your hands.

"I'll be around," she said, her voice soft but with an edge. Turning on her heel, she disappeared into the forest's shadows, leaving you alone, heart racing, mind spinning. Watching. She'd be watching you.

Later that night, you prowled through the dense forest, your mind consumed by the routine of your werewolf form. Your senses were heightened—each sound crisp and clear—the rustling of leaves, the distant howl of a predator, the wind shifting through the trees. You moved fluidly, focused on tracking a small rabbit. Tonight was supposed to be like any other—no drama, no interruptions.

But something felt off.

You paused mid-step, your ears twitching as a strange scent drifted. It was sharp, unfamiliar, and sent a cold shiver down your spine. Instinctively, you crouched low, muscles tense, as you scanned your surroundings for the source. The forest had gone deathly silent. The wind shifted, carrying a low, guttural growl—deep and menacing. It wasn't coming from you. Your heart pounded as your eyes darted through the shadows. Just beyond the trees, something was moving. It was larger than anything you had encountered in these woods before. Its shape was indistinct, obscured by the darkness, but its eyes—glowing faint red—pierced through the black, locking onto you. You froze, every instinct screaming at you to back away. Whatever this was, it wasn't human. And it wasn't friendly. Before you could react, the creature lunged, crashing through the trees with feral speed that caught you off guard. You barely leaped aside in time, claws digging into the ground as you dodged its massive form. It landed heavily, the earth trembling beneath its weight. This thing—whatever it was—wasn't like you. It was something else entirely.

The creature turned to face you, its eyes gleaming a deep, unnatural crimson pulsing with intelligence you hadn't expected—cold, calculating, and predatory. It was far larger than any werewolf, its shape unnervingly twisted, with sinewy muscles and long, limbs that moved in an oddly graceful yet erratic manner. Completely furless, looking like it had mange. Under the dim moonlight, you could make out a distorted, warped form—a creature that seemed barely contained, as though it might burst from its own skin at any moment. And then it let out a low, rumbling growl that reverberated through the forest, vibrating through the ground beneath your feet. The sound wasn't just menacing; it was unearthly, like a warning echoing from another realm entirely. This was no ordinary beast. It felt ancient, primal, as though it had been born from something dark and forbidden, something meant to stay hidden in the forgotten parts of the world. And tonight, for reasons unknown, it had surfaced. You backed away slowly, your eyes locked onto the creature as it prowled closer, each step deliberate, its eyes tracking your every movement with an unsettling focus. But it didn't attack—at least, not yet.

Instead, it watched you, its gaze almost… knowing.

You backed away slowly, your eyes locked onto the creature as it prowled closer, each step deliberate, its eyes tracking your every movement with an unsettling focus. But it didn't attack—at least, not yet. Instead, it watched you, its gaze almost… knowing. Before you could react, the creature let out a guttural, almost amused growl, the kind that felt too close to a chuckle for comfort. The sound sent a shiver down your spine, and you braced yourself, baring your teeth, ready to lunge if it came any closer. But the creature merely tilted its head, those burning red eyes narrowing as if it were studying you. Then, to your shock, it spoke. "Don't listen to her," it snarled, the voice low, jagged, and disturbingly clear. "She's told that to the others." You stiffened, the words echoing in your mind as confusion and unease collided within you. Others? Who else had Wednesday hunted like this, and what did this beast know? Your pulse raced, the forest around you feeling darker, smaller, as if the creature's very presence warped reality. You fought to keep your voice steady, masking your unease with a low growl. "What are you?" The creature's grin widened, revealing rows of jagged teeth that gleamed in the faint moonlight. It moved closer, each step slow and deliberate, as if savoring the tension. "I'm what she can't control," it rasped, a sick enjoyment dripping from every word. "You think you're special, different—but she only tells you that to draw you in. To make you weak." It leaned forward, and you caught a faint, metallic scent that was sickeningly familiar.

The creature's breath was warm and rancid, tinged with something that made your stomach turn. Yet it was those eyes—those ancient, intelligent eyes—that held you captive, radiating a dark amusement. "Don't you see?" it continued, its voice now a mocking whisper. "When the time comes, I'll be there to help you. To tear her apart once and for all." A chill ran down your spine, the forest suddenly feeling claustrophobic as the creature's words echoed in your mind. It seemed to drink in your reaction, reveling in the tension between you. It knew something—something about Wednesday, about you—and it enjoyed every second of the torment it was sowing. You swallowed hard, fighting the urge to back away, your instincts warring with the questions churning in your mind. "Why are you telling me this?" The creature let out another rumbling chuckle, stepping back into the shadows, its shape beginning to blur as if it were part of the darkness itself. "You'll understand… soon." And just like that, it melted into the night, leaving you standing alone, heart pounding, and mind spinning with questions. What had just happened? And what did it mean?

Upon stumbling back to your cabin, you stopped in your tracks when you saw her—Wednesday—sitting at the small table, a notepad open in front of her filled with intricate notes and sketches. An entire observation kit was laid out beside her: crossbows, silver-tipped arrows, vials filled with strange liquids, tools crafted with a precision too deliberate for casual use.

Your heart raced, the shock of seeing her in your space sending your senses into overdrive. "How did you get in here?"you snapped, barely able to keep the irritation from your voice. "You need to leave."

Wednesday's gaze lifted, her expression impassive, unphased by your outburst. "I don't leave until I get what I came for."

Your mind reeled, the creature's words still fresh. "That thing out there—it mentioned you," you said, your voice harsher than intended.

Wednesday's eyes sharpened, her mouth setting into a line. "What did it say?"

You hesitated, those chilling words echoing in your mind. "It said… it said you'd told others the same thing. That I wasn't the only one." The knot in your stomach tightened. "Whatever you're doing here, it's not just about me."

For the briefest moment, a shadow of something crossed her face, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared. She closed her notepad and stood, her focus now entirely on you.

"That thing you encountered—it's a Hyde," she said, her voice cold yet steady. "A monster driven by pure chaos and destruction. It's been following me since Nevermore."

"A Hyde?" you repeated, confusion and intrigue mingling in your tone. 

Wednesday gestured to her open kit, pulling out a crossbow and a vial of poison with practiced ease.

You stared at the crossbow in her hand, your mind reeling as you absorbed everything she was saying. "Why didn't you tell me this before?"

"Because you didn't need to know," she replied matter-of-factly, loading the crossbow with a silver-tipped arrow. "Not until now."

Your chest tightened as you processed her words. She had known this whole time—about the creature, about the danger—and hadn't said a word.

Without missing a beat, Wednesday tossed you a small vial, and you caught it just in time. “Poison,” she said calmly, her gaze unflinching. “If the Hyde comes for you again, don’t hesitate. Use it.”

You stared at the vial, unease prickling your skin. “And what if I don’t get the chance?”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she took a step closer, her gaze intense. “That’s why I’m here.”

The weight of her words settled over you, your heart pounding as you tried to make sense of her sudden closeness, her cold commitment to a plan she hadn’t even shared with you. You stared at the vial in your hand, its weight feeling heavier than it should.

 The reality of what was happening settled over you like a thick fog. You didn't know if you could trust Wednesday, but her words rang with an unsettling truth. The creature—the Hyde—wasn't just some random beast. It was hunting Wednesday, and now you had inserted yourself into the middle of it.

"I still don't trust you," you muttered, eyes narrowing as you pocketed the vial.

Wednesday didn't flinch at your words. In fact, she seemed almost amused, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at her lips. "You don't have to trust me," she replied, her voice cold and precise. "You just have to survive."

Then, to your surprise, Wednesday's hand lifted, fingers cool as she brushed them along your cheek. Her gaze remained detached, yet you saw the faintest flicker of something in her eyes—an intensity just beneath the surface.

"I wouldn't want my experiment to get hurt," she murmured, her voice steady and emotionless, though her touch lingered a moment longer than it should have. 

You blinked, stepping back to regain some distance, your heart racing as the weight of her words sank in. "This isn't just an experiment," you muttered, voice strained.

Wednesday's gaze remained locked on you, unwavering, assessing. She pocketed her crossbow, securing the kit with quick, calculated movements before returning to you. "Think what you want," she said coolly, her expression unreadable. "But if you hesitate, even once, it won't end well."

Wednesday glanced away, her focus shifting to the open path between the trees as though reading an invisible trail.

"We set a trap," she said, a note of finality in her tone. "Tonight, while it's still hunting. The Hyde will come."

You swallowed, feeling the weight of her plan settle over you, the reality of the danger clearer than before. "And what's the bait?" you asked, your voice low.

Wednesday's eyes flicked back to yours, her gaze calculating. "Us."

Hours later, Wednesday moved ahead, leading you through the dense trees until you reached a small clearing, moonlight spilling down to illuminate the space. The air felt still, a heavy quiet settling over the forest as you both stopped, sizing up the open area.

"This should do," Wednesday murmured, her voice low as she took in the surroundings, her hand brushing over the crossbow at her side. She moved with a calm intensity, arranging her equipment with a precision that left no room for doubt.

You followed her lead, every nerve tingling with anticipation. The clearing felt both vulnerable and strategic, a perfect place to draw out the creature—and for a moment, the gravity of the night settled over you.

Wednesday glanced back, her expression unreadable but her eyes glinting in the pale light. "Remember, it's watching. We need to make this look real."

You nodded, heart pounding as the scene took shape around you, the forest stretching out in every direction. Here, exposed under the open sky, there was nowhere to hide. Just you, Wednesday, and the beast that hunted you both.

Your pulse quickened, but you met her gaze, unwavering. "So, we just… wait for it?"

Wednesday's expression remained steady, almost clinical. "Not quite." She walked to the other end of the clearing, placing her kit down, spreading out items with meticulous precision—a few vials, silver-tipped bolts, and herbs that gave off a faint, sharp scent. Every tool seemed perfectly positioned, each a calculated step in her plan.

"We'll make it look real," she said, a faint chill in her voice. "A fight. The Hyde craves chaos, discord. It will be drawn to the scene."

The idea of faking a battle with Wednesday unnerved you, but as you nodded, your instincts braced for what was to come. The forest grew quieter around you, the night holding its breath.

"Ready?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Wednesday's eyes narrowed. "Always."

Without another word, you lunged at her, your hand outstretched to grab her arm. Wednesday moved like a shadow, sidestepping your attack with practiced ease, her expression unreadable. You gritted your teeth and spun around, aiming a low swipe toward her legs. She leapt back, her movements fluid, almost like a dance.

"You think this is all my fault, don't you?" Wednesday spat, her voice cold as ice. "You were always too weak to handle it."

The words hit you harder than you expected, and for a moment, they felt real. You growled, pushing aside the sting of her remark as you charged again, this time with more force. "Weak? You're the one who kept this from me!" you snapped, grabbing her by the collar and shoving her backward.

Wednesday stumbled slightly, but she recovered quickly, her eyes flashing with something dark. "I didn't owe you anything," she hissed, her hand shooting up to grab your wrist and twist it painfully. "You were always just a liability."

The pain in your wrist was sharp, but it only fueled your rage. You shoved her again, harder this time, and Wednesday retaliated by slamming her elbow into your side, knocking the wind out of you. The force of her blow sent you staggering, but you caught yourself, eyes blazing with anger.

"This is all on you!" you shouted, your voice carrying through the trees. You lunged forward, tackling her again, but this time, you grabbed her crossbow from her side and tossed it to the ground. You pinned her beneath you, your heart racing as you stared down at her. For a moment, it almost felt real. The anger, the hurt—it all bubbled to the surface.

Wednesday didn't flinch. Instead, she glared up at you, her cold eyes unyielding.

 "Pathetic. You're a pitiful excuse for a beast—frail, lacking the resilience of those I’ve effortlessly dispatched. Survival? It was never in your nature,” she spat, brandishing a blade from her belt as she swiped at you.

"Fight me," you growled, your voice thick with emotion. "Or are you too afraid?"

Wednesday's eyes gleamed with a dangerous light, and for a moment, you saw something almost like pride flash across her face. She gave a small, cruel smile. "Afraid?" she whispered, her voice low and venomous. "Not of you."

That was the cue.

Without warning, Wednesday kicked you off of her, sending you sprawling to the ground. In one fluid motion, she snatched the crossbow from the dirt, her fingers moving with deadly precision as she loaded it. She raised it and aimed—right at you.

Your thumping, and for a split second, you wondered if she might actually fire. But then, just as she pulled the trigger, the bolt flew past you, into the darkness behind. A loud, guttural roar echoed through the trees.

Out of the shadows, 

the Hyde arrived, 

larger and more menacing than before, its red eyes locked onto her with a predatory gleam.

Wednesday's gaze flicked to you, her voice steady. "Now."

She fired her crossbow, the bolt finding its mark in the creature's shoulder. The Hyde let out another furious roar, lunging forward, claws raking the ground as it charged. You jumped at the beast, claws tearing into its thick hide as you dodged its ferocious strikes, its movements wild and aggressive.

. But it was stronger than anything you'd thought. Wednesday fired bolt after bolt, her shots precise, but the creature was relentless, absorbing each hit with raw, unyielding power.

As you circled the Hyde, its focus split between you and Wednesday, you caught a glimpse of her expression—a fierce determination, her eyes never leaving the target. She reloaded quickly, her movements fluid, calculated, the faintest sheen of sweat on her brow betraying the effort.

The Hyde lunged at you again, its claws slicing through the air, and this time, you couldn't move fast enough. The impact threw you backward, pain flaring as you hit the ground hard, your vision swimming. You forced yourself to rise, catching Wednesday's eye as she aimed again, this time with something stronger—a vial of poison.

In a final act of defiance, you charged the creature, gripping its shoulder and ripping a chunk of flesh away. The Hyde let out a guttural scream, stumbling back before it retreated into the darkness, leaving a trail of blood in its wake.

You dropped to the ground, exhaustion crashing over you as your vision blurred. Blood seeped from a deep wound in your side, soaking into the forest floor. Your limbs felt heavy, and the pain was radiating with each beat of your heart.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Wednesday raise her crossbow, her gaze locked on the retreating figure of the Hyde. She was ready to give chase, her cold determination unwavering. But then, she glanced back, her eyes landing on you, crumpled and bleeding on the forest floor.

In an instant, her stoic demeanor shifted. Without a word, she abandoned her pursuit of the Hyde and hurried to your side, kneeling beside you with surprising urgency. Her hands moved quickly, searching through the small pouch at her side as she pulled out a bundle of gauze and a small vial.

"Stop…" you muttered, trying to push her away with the last bit of strength you had. "The Hyde… you need to go after it."

But Wednesday ignored you, her focus entirely on your wound as she uncorked the vial and poured its contents onto the gauze. The sharp, herbal scent filled the air, and she pressed the soaked gauze firmly against your side, stemming the bleeding with practiced hands.

"Don't be an idiot," she muttered, her voice cold but edged with something you hadn't heard before—something almost like concern. "I'm not letting you bleed out on my watch."

You winced at the pressure, biting back a groan. "But the Hyde… it'll get away."

Wednesday's dark eyes flicked to yours, her expression unreadable but firm. "It's not going to get far. I'll deal with it soon enough. But I'm not letting you die here."

You tried to protest, to urge her to chase down the creature, but she held you in place, her grip unyielding. "If anyone is going to end you, it's me. Not some mindless monster," she said, her tone cold and detached, yet with a hint of something almost… protective.

Despite the pain, a faint smile tugged at the corners of your mouth.

 "That's sweet…coming from you."

Wednesday's eyes narrowed, though you caught a flicker of something that almost looked like amusement. "Save your sarcasm," she said, pressing down harder to stop the bleeding. "If you can joke, you're not dead yet."

You let out a shaky laugh, though it quickly turned into a grimace as another wave of pain surged through you. Wednesday didn't flinch, her attention unwavering as she continued to tend to your wound with surprising gentleness.

After a few tense moments, the bleeding began to slow, and the edges of the pain dulled slightly under her careful treatment. You felt your breathing steady, the worst of the pain fading, though exhaustion weighed heavily on you.

"Thank you," you murmured, barely able to keep your eyes open.

Wednesday glanced at you, her expression still cool but softened.”Don't make me regret it," she replied quietly.

You felt a warmth spread through you, despite the cold forest air and the sting of your injuries. She may not have said much, but her actions spoke louder than words. She could have left you there, but she didn't.

As you drifted in and out of consciousness, you felt her shift beside you, her hand resting lightly on your shoulder in a steadying gesture, as if anchoring you to the present. The last thing you saw before darkness claimed you was her face, framed by the shadows, a silent promise lingering in her gaze.

Back in the cabin, you and Wednesday tended to each other's wounds, the silence between you comfortable, though heavy with the exhaustion of the fight. The small flickering fire cast dancing shadows on the walls, its warm glow a sharp contrast to the cold forest outside. You could still feel the adrenaline thrumming through your veins, but a sense of relief had settled over you, knowing the Hyde was gone for now.

Without warning, there was a deafening crash as the cabin's window shattered. The Hyde barreled through, its massive, bloodied form illuminated by the firelight. You barely had time to react before it lunged, claws outstretched, its eyes fixed on you with a vengeful fury.

But in an instant, Wednesday moved, her body positioning itself between you and the beast. The Hyde's claws slashed across her side as she shielded you.

"Wednesday!" you shouted, horror flooding through you as she flew into the wall, with a sickening thud.

The sight of her blood, of her hurt, ignited something primal within you—a fierce, overwhelming rage. The Hyde barely had time to react as you felt yourself transform, the beast within you rising to the surface with a force you'd never felt before. Claws extended, senses sharpened, you lunged at the creature, every muscle fueled by your bottled instinct.

With a savage growl, you attacked, tearing into the Hyde with everything you had. Its roars echoed through the cabin, but you didn't relent, every strike more brutal than the last as your claws ripped through its thick hide. It tried to fight back, but your rage gave you strength beyond anything you'd ever known.

In a final, explosive burst, you brought your claws down one last time. The Hyde collapsed to the floor, its lifeless form finally defeated. You stood over it, chest heaving, the adrenaline fading as the weight of your actions sank in.

Turning back, you felt yourself return to your human form, exhaustion crashing over you as your gaze found Wednesday. She miraculously managed to slump herself against the wall, her hand pressed to her bleeding side, her face pale but her expression calm.

You rushed to her side, dropping to your knees as you frantically checked her wound. "Wednesday, I… I'm so sorry."

She rolled her eyes. “You're insufferably slow," she muttered, her tone sharp as she stifled a wince. "Did you somehow miss me saying it would return?”

Ignoring her words, you fumbled through her kit, searching for the vial she'd used on you before. Your hands trembled as you unscrewed the cap, but Wednesday's hand reached out, stopping you. She took the vial from you, her fingers stained with blood, and poured the medicine over her wound with practiced ease.

You watched her, still frantic, your mind racing. "You shouldn't have taken that hit… I should've protected you."

Wednesday let out a soft scoff, her gaze unwavering as she stared back at you. Then, with a surprising gentleness, she leaned forward and pressed a kiss on your lips, her touch as fleeting as it was reassuring.

"You're too dramatic," she said, her voice soft but steady. "I'd die for you any day, and besides,"—her smirk returned, edged with a warmth that softened her usual cool exterior—"I'd rather go down saving you than by any creature's hand."

The sincerity in her words caught you off guard, and you felt your heart skip a beat. You held her gaze, the intensity of the moment settling over you both like a silent promise.

For the first time in a long time, there was no danger, no threat. Just you and Wednesday, the faint light of the fire casting a soft glow over her face. You swallowed, still reeling from everything that had happened, but her words—her confession—anchored you, grounding you in a way you hadn't expected.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Wednesday gave a small, approving nod, her hand lingering on your arm for just a moment longer. "Now, can you finally help me with this wound?" she deadpanned, though the glint in her eyes betrayed her amusement.

You smiled, your relief flooding through you, and you set to work, carefully tending to her injuries. And as you worked, her steady gaze stayed on you, her words—I'd die for you any day—echoing in your mind, a reminder that, whatever came next, you would face it together.

[fullofwoe5321]

It's impressive how people continue insisting in label Tyler as a cold manipulative guy who never cared for Wednesday.

You guys really have to force this narrative! But with me, this is not gonna happen!

We have SCENES where he genuinely smiles alone after talking to her or something like that.

Oh but he said he liked killing... Have you ever watched the show? Have you ever realized he was possessed by the Hyde when he said that? Have you ever realized he was on the verge of crying after the revelation? We don't know the dimension of his corruption or his Hyde, but on the show it's said that the Hyde  becomes the willing instrument of whatever nefarious agenda this new master might propose.

OH let me save you some time, Wednesday was not furious because he killed some people (AND PLEASE, he didn't kill Eugene on purpose because he was Wednesday's friend) or he was the monster. She was furious because she was outsmarted and betrayed by Tyler. The only person she opened her black little heart and he was the one who stomped it. He was the monster under her nose and she underestimated him. That's why he humiliated her with that monologue in the police station. He knew she was very competitive and the only way to hurt her was bringing that fact in to her face. By the way, ABSOLUTE CINEMA! Praises to Hunter.

At the end, Wednesday understood very well what happened during the monologue about how Laurel manipulated and enslaved Tyler. And then we found out he was tortured, drugged, abused, groomed and corrupted in order to unlock the Hyde. So I fail to see him as the real villain.

Oh but he hated Wednesday and wanted to kill her! Excuse-me but Wednesday is not an angel: she almost killed 2 normies tossing piranhas in the pool, she said she would go further in the pranking against Xavier LOL she was about to hammer Tyler's knee if his father didn't interrupt her! And he possibly was ordered to kill any outcast before see her in the woods after Goody healed her.

Did Tyler hate her? You guys make me laugh! He hated her so much he wanted to kiss his nemesis! He hated so much he learned how to prepare that happy birthday coffee in one week! He hated her really bad that he prepared a date he knew she would like. What kind of hate is this? He saved at least 2 times as the monster and the first time was his free decision. He didn't know about her being an important key (!) to laurel´s plan.

I'm not saying here that he didn't manipulate her or lied to her. I know what he did. But he was forced to do those things! Do you really want to believe he wanted to lie for her? They really liked each other's company. It's not difficult to find the hints about how they are comfortable with each other. He loves her personality and she loves he likes her despite her personality! Isn't that obvious? They are not toxic as people keeping saying, but they were envolved in a toxic situation.

I'm really tired of people wishing Tyler's death on Twitter because they believe he is threat for Enid and the Wenclair ship. But let me save you more time because I'm genererous today: it's not gonna happen! Tyler is a main character. He is not gonna die. Wednesday has some sort of connection with him and we will find out what it is on S2. Besides that, the Hydes lore begins now. We have so much to learn and see! Let's wait.

That's it. Regards.

P.S.: I'm thinking about translating this text and transform into a thread on Twitter to bring more hate to my life from anti Tylers.

[alternate-universe-archivist]

Medieval AU where Viktor is secretly a witch that helps people through providing medicine.

Jayce is a traveling monster hunter (massive hammer included lol) following rumors about a sinister witch.

⬇️

When Jayce arrives at the supposed witch’s village the people there are mysteriously protective, barely giving him any information but plenty of nasty looks.

“Aren’t you afraid?” Jayce ask one of the older farmers. “Magic is dangerous, it has destroyed civilizations.” The woman then explains to him how the witch had treated her daughter’s illness, saving her from an untimely death. Something in Jayce starts to feels conflicted.

Even with people trying to block his path at every turn, the witch can only hide for so long. Eventually Jayce finds their home at the border of the woods.

Instead of the fabled old and hideous looking hag the cottage is lived in by a young—temptingly attractive—man. Jayce tries to convince himself that their appearance is only an illusion, still he swings his hammer less determined, misses, and a cheap hex moves the floor beneath his feet—taking him down and leaving him unconscious.

Jayce expects it to be his grave but strangely he wakes up in a bed and not a coffin. The witch has chained him to the bed (lest he cause more trouble) and is kindly treating his wounds.

Instead of brawl Jayce starts asking him questions then: why the witch does all this, how he learned the art of witchcraft, why he didn’t kill him, what his name is…

His name is Viktor.

Viktor promises to let him go if he does one thing: slay the creature guarding fertile soil in the forrest: the residents need the land for agriculture, but a sly placed golem has been guarding the land for years and Viktor is not as mobile between overgrown plants so he can’t do it himself.

Jayce agrees and hesitantly lets Viktor enchant his hammer when he offers. It’s not a simple battle and Jayce injures his leg but through determination they succeed.

Viktor tends to his wounds once again—now the recovery time is months instead of days. He cooks for Jayce, sows new clothes, and entertains him with the stories of the old world.

As time passes Jayce grows fond of him. Viktor is kind, attentive, charming. The best of ‘humanity’. But… guilt also stirs within him. How many secretly kind magical creatures had he killed before? How many of his good intentions have only spread more suffering?

On a particularly bad day Jayce can’t take it anymore. When the reality of his sins consumes him Jayce downs Viktor’s lethal potions.

Instead of dying he wakes once again in Viktor’s bed.

Viktor’s furious, saddened, regretful, but still filled with empathy and affection as always. He begs Jayce to stay. That he loves him for who he is, with or without the blood on his hands.

In the end the village gains a new forge, one that specializes in magical tools at that. With time Jayce slowly learns to have compassion for himself. Instead of the village he was the one in need of salvation. Jayce found the witch, the love of his life and beyond.

[holylulusworld]

Love by heart

Summary: Can you and Dean work things out? What about Sam?

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x Omega!Reader

Warnings: angst, language, a/b/o, arguing, insured Sam

Catch up here: Omega by nature

“Sammy?” you whisper as the tall hunter is still out cold. The shifter got him good. “I’m so sorry I didn’t realize it wasn’t Dean. It’s just, that we got so comfortable at the bunker that I never thought an enemy would be able to enter it.”

“Y/N,” Dean sighs deeply. He gently places his hand on your shoulder, making you flinch. “Sorry, I didn’t want to scare you. I know it’s a little too much to bear. I cleaned the bunker and got rid of the shifter.”

“It’s all my fault.” You hide your face in the palms of your hands. “I should’ve known better. I’m a hunter, an experienced one. How could the monster trick me into believing it was you? You want to mate me. Hilarious!”

You start to laugh uncontrollably. “Y/N,” his features soften, and he softly whispers your name. “It’s not your fault but mine. Shapeshifters are sneaky bastards. They tricked me and Sammy years ago too.”

“Maybe I wanted to believe him, Dean. If I can’t have the real Dean, I want to have the second-best thing. An exact clone,” you sniffle. “At least this one didn’t hunt me with a hammer.” You chuckle this time. “Demon Dean on the loose was something else.”

“We’ve been through a lot together,” he runs his hand over your back. “You’re the strongest woman I ever met. No one can compare to you. Not my mother, not one of my friends, or any lover I had.”

“You only try to make me feel better,” you wipe your wet eyes. “It’s fine. Really. Please stop pitying me. I know that a woman like Cassie is more your taste. Finding the right mate is hard and maybe, I only wanted you because you were always around.”

“Sammy was always around too,” Dean argues. “Stop pretending that you didn’t hide your presentation from me to keep me from claiming you.”

“I did not! I hid my presentation since I presented,” you snap at Dean. “This had nothing to do with you, but my father and brother. I was born and raised in a clan of hunters. They had no use for an omega. A beta was fine. But an omega got abandoned and left behind.”

“Y/N, sweetheart,” he regrets his harsh words when you choke out a sob. “All these years  I made you believe that I don’t want you because I was scared of hurting. Loving a Winchester is a death sentence. Look at my mother, Jess, Lisa, and Sarah. They got killed or hurt because of us. I didn’t want the same to happen to you.”

“Liar!”

“I’m not lying! I tried to protect you.” Dean yells back. “Stop accusing me of being a liar. I’m anything but a liar!”

“You only rejected me because of my presentation. If not you would’ve crawled between my legs years ago! I simply didn’t do it for you!” You jump up from your seat to glare at Dean. “Admit it! Say it out loud. You’re nothing but a knothead.”

“Watch your tongue, Y/N!” Dean breathes in your face. “You should remember your place in the food chain.” He backpaddles when you backhand him.

“I dare you to say shit like that to me ever again DEAN WINCHESTER!” You growl in his direction. “No man talks like that to me and walks away with intact balls!”

“You want to hurt my balls?” His hands shoot toward his crotch to protect whatever he’s hiding in his pants. “Sweetheart that’s not nice of you to say.”

“Oh, when it comes to your balls you want me to be nice?” You snarl at the alpha. “You started this by changing the way you see me only because I’m an omega.”

“I did not! I-“ He huffs. “It’s just…you are an omega, and we could’ve been together all this time. I went through the worst ruts because you were around, but I couldn’t touch you. I was so scared of hurting you with my knot!”

“Liar, liar your pants are on fire,” you sing-song, and stick your tongue out. “Whatever kept you from being with me wasn’t fear. It was your knot!”

“Exactly!” He says. His eyes widen and he shakes his head. “That’s not what I meant.”  Dean curses loudly and grips the backrest of the chair you were sitting on earlier. “Fuck. You make me lose my damn mind one day, omega.”

You shudder as Dean addresses you with your presentation for the first time. “You are one to talk!”

“Do you know why the shapeshifter came here?”

“I guess he wanted to kill Sam and me. We are most wanted, on top of the list of every monster,” you shrug.

“No,” Dean shakes his head. “He only came here to get you. That monster couldn’t fight his instinct because he stole my identity. He remembered every single thought I had of you. And he felt what I felt. Need. Want. Lust. Possessiveness. Lust…”

“You said lust twice,” you grumble and cross your arms over your chest.  “This doesn’t count!”

“Well, lust is important,” he smirks. “He wanted you because I want you. Luckily I came here just in time before that sonofabitch got the chance to touch you.”

“I could’ve defended myself.”

“I never once doubted that you’d defended yourself just fine.” He growls. “Can you stop arguing about everything I say? I tried to tell you that I love being there for you and to protect you. I still have nightmares of my time as a demon.”

“The hammer?” You challenge. “At least the demon had a thing for me too. Even if bringing a hammer for a date is a bit too much.”

“You hit me pretty hard with that baseball bat if I recall right,” Dean snaps back. “It felt like you tried to kill me!”

“I had to defend myself against a knight of hell!” You and Dean snarl and growl at each other.

“Guys, I appreciate you are trying to talk things out, but can you do this outside of my room,” Sam says. “I got attacked by a shifter and still got a terrible headache.”

“Sammy!” Dean and you gasp. “Sorry, Sam. We were about to…” you trial off. “Uh-you know. Dean and I will talk things out later.”

“Good.” Sam slowly sits up. “I only had to get myself almost killed to make you talk.” The hunter looks at you and his brother. “Please for the love of fuck. Go out there and do something against this tension going on between the two of you…”

Part 4

[teecupangel]

So, got another idea. XD What if we take the Monster Hunter asks and the giant snake asks and combine them? XD Dalamandur!Desmond's here to fuck up Templars and save lives!

And since Dalamandur is so huge and his roar summons meteors, Desmond speaks telephaticly to his ancestor/dream shares with them?

Idk if there's stories of giant snakes or snakes in general in 11th century Syria, so idk how Altaïr would react to having dreams of a mountain sized snake talking to him. XD And the snake is weirdly encouraging and tries to tell him to befriend Kadar and Malik more.

Ezio would probably take these dreams as a symbol of the Devil tempting him or something bad, considering the snake tempting Eve to sin is in the Bible. Especially since the snakes tells him he needs to follow it's advice, otherwise his family will die. XD Desmond just worried, because he slept really long and Ezio looks to be 17 and he has no idea what month it is.

Idk about Ratonhnhaké:ton, this is just a quick idea. XD

Here’s Dalamunder (all images from monsterhunter.fandom.com) for those unfamiliar with how the monster look like.

Okay, first of all.

Dalamunder is so big calling it huge is an understatement XD

So I propose Desmond starts off as a baby snakie during Altaïr’s time. And by baby, we all mean he’s already as big as the average size of an adult healthy snake. He also starts learning how to speak telepathically with Altaïr during this time and it all started when the supposed Ark broke apart during the scuffle (with Altaïr distracted by a voice in his head calling his name) and pops the snake.

… that immediately ate whatever was inside the treasure they were ordered to retrieve (steal).

From there, Desmond begins to grow sorta kinda slowly while sticking close to Altaïr because they tried to keep him in Masyaf and he always just slips away. (Al Mualim tried to touch him and Desmond almost bit him. Al Mualim was lucky Desmond wasn’t that used to his new body yet).

By the time Ezio’s time rolls around, Desmond is now the same size as an adult Dalamunder and has been chilling in the expansive underground ‘city’ of Monteriggioni. Assassins have learned to build their headquarters underground with Desmond paving the way through. He starts telepathically talking to Ezio when Ezio is around 16~17 so we can hammer in Ezio’s Catholic upbringing for as long as we like XD

Ezio lived with the fear that the Devil was tempting him with power and knowledge as well as the fact that he believes he can’t tell anyone about this because they might think of him as a devil spawn. If he had told Giovanni Auditore, he would have learned about how Desmond is considered as an old god or a divine beast. The Templars made the whole ‘the devil is a snake’ thing a bigger impact than in the original timeline because of Desmond.

As for Ratonhnhaké:ton, it really depends on whether we’ll let Edward live or not. If Edward lives, that means that Desmond is a swimming snake that everyone thought was the Leviathan and, Ratonhnhaké:ton learned of him because Desmond starts to whisper to him when he was a kid. It’s the least stressful meeting of the three because Edward is there to tell Ratonhnhaké:ton who Desmond is. If we’re keeping it close to canon as possible, Desmond hibernates in the Grand Temple after eating whatever device was keeping Juno’s data and he awakens because he hears Lee and his men. He eats Lee and telepathically tells Ratonhnhaké:ton that they need to go and save the village because the other squads are on their way. From there, the village believes Desmond is one of the ‘beasts’ that sleeps in the land, having awakened because of the atrocities of the colonists.

[gelu-the-babosa-multiversal]

What do the Avengers think of Cody after discovering that he has Thor's hammer?

Thor: He is going to be very confused as to why a human child was able to lift Mjolnir and why the kid has a monstrous appearance when he transforms. At first, Thor's goal would be to get back his hammer at any cost, thinking before meeting Cody that he would fight to get Mjolnir back, but got shocked when Cody accepted to return the hammer at the first request… thought, the hammer would not obey that request.

Wasp: she would love him! Wasp would just see Cody as the cutest thing in the world. Since the appearance of the boy is of a fluffy griffin it would be very hard for Wasp to resist petting him. Thought, she wonders why Cody doesn't have wins when he is a griffin. Still, Wasp is willing to help Cody and protect him from any villain who wants to harm him (Morocco is shaking in the background).

Ant Man: ¨kid, where are your parents?¨ Probably the most worried of the team because of the fact that the one who wields a weapon from the gods is a 10-year-old kid. Thought, he is surprised at the level of empathy and stubbornness the kid has when facing problems. But gets very worried when he learns that there's an immortal English man looking to kill the kid, an extravagant hunter who wants the kid as a trophy, a rich lady (that might not be human) in the position of some dangerous tech that also wants to kill the kid… and a crazy girl whos hair looks like bacon that wants to trap the kid and sell him to whoever pays the better… also some Gods and Monsters, but in this situation the humans are scarier…

Iron Man: well, the kid did say he would return the hammer, so mission accomplished! Well, nop! The hammer doesn't want to cooperate and is having a tantrum. This also mostly involves ¨magic¨ so Tony would have a harder time understanding what is happening 70% of the time… well, at least with the Greene family Tony can have a space to share his ideas and be as creative as he never could! It is kinda nice, and the daughter of the main scientist is really smart and shares a lot of Tony's style… but who is the little girl dressed in purple who has been following him!??

Captain America: totally vives with the kid and sees a bright future for him with and without the hammer! Thought, Steve does agree with Hank in the fact that a child so young should not be involved in dangerous situations, and should not be wanted dead by villains! But sees too how the boy's tenacity has helped so many on the island.

Hawkeye: ¨Man, what a disappointment, I thought that we were going to fight Loki or a giant…¨ Clint says before Wasp punches him in the face…

Hulk: ¨too small to fight…¨ it means that Cody is still too small to punch. Hulk needs an opponent as big as Wasp to punch! Well, it actually means that Cody is too nice and offered Hulk food so the kid is safe…

Bruce Banner: ¨… what Hulk said¨

Black Panther: [starts a secret investigation on the whole Griffin Rock island and takes a deep look at the Burns family] Quickly Cody catches him doing that because the kid has the eyes of a falcon and 100 cameras working full time! Actually, very impressive. T'challa was really caught in surprise when Cody caught up in his tricks to access security and was more surprised when the child was not mad at him, and much much surprised when Cody asked him if he wanted to check something in particular on the main lab computer…

Did I forget someone???

[supernaturalscribe67]

Breathe

Words: 5,466

POV: 3rd Person

Pairing: Team Free Will x Male!Reader [Platonic]

Warning(s): Language, Character Death, Extreme Gore, Description of Death, Angst with absolutely no comfort, Description of a corpse

Summary: A hunt gone wrong leaves the reader in a situation that often plagued hunters' nightmares. In his final moments, his mind goes to the people in his life he cared about the most, and he realized that he had one final call to make...

Request:

Hello! I hope you're having a good day :)

I was wondering if you could do TFW where Reader(gn, fem, masc, you choose) is on a hunt alone. (Idk what supernatural creature you can choose) Reader is caught off guard because there were more monsters than expected ana got hurt really bad. They manage to get away, but their wound is too severe to get to their car.

Luckily, they have their phone, and they call Dean's phone and say their goodbyes to them and stuff (yknow, Dean puts it on speaker so Sam and Castiel can hear and speak) I can imagine TFW tracks their phone and finds them, but it's too late.

Sorry if this is a bit specific! l'm just a sucker for angst, and love your writing. ♡♡

@abducted-cowz

A/N: Happy Sunday! I wrote this (with love) to make you guys suffer. I hope the level of angst is to your liking <3 - As always, feedback is greatly appreciated! Let me know what you guys think!

~Much Love!

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

It was supposed to be a simple hunt. A get-in get-out kind of scenario, something (Y/N) had been through more times than he could count. The vampires had set up shop at the edge of a small Kansas town, about twenty miles from Witchita, in a farmhouse that had depleted with age. After his initial scope of the location, he had determined there were close to five vampires on the premises. He had enough confidence to know he could take them on easily. So, when night fell on the next night, he parked his truck a quarter mile up the dirt road and used the natural foliage to make his way to the farmhouse undetected. The situation was perfect, every hunter’s dream of an easily obtainable celebration at the nearby bar, almost as if it was too good to be true.

He needed to learn to trust his gut more often.

Double the number of vampires were present, well over what was initially inspected. (Y/N) didn’t take into account the presence of a cellar. He should have known better. The house was most likely built in the sixties or seventies when it was more than common to include a shelter to fend off natural disasters. Why it never crossed his mind that a house in the middle of a large, abandoned farmland would have that sort of accommodation, he wasn’t too sure. It had been a lapse of judgment. Perhaps he was too overzealous. Zeal had claimed the lives of young hunters more than any monster.

The fight was long and agonizing - as tedious would be too lighthearted of a word to describe it. Some were skilled, others were followers. It was easy to take out some, but a good amount knew how to fight, which made it even more challenging than it had already become. A part of him wanted to retreat and return to his motel room to call for backup, but the continuous wave of enemies made it nearly impossible. He didn’t have a moment to catch his breath, let alone leave safely. He had to fight on. It was the only way.

In the end, the corpses of the vampires lay scattered around the wooden and stone flooring in the house and cellar. Heads were strewn about, blood splattered on the once-magnificent wallpaper. (Y/N) stood at the top of the stairs that led to the cellar, his lips slightly parted as pants fell past them. His chest heaved, sweat trickling down his forehead and neck, coating the collar of his t-shirt. The way his heart hammered in his chest, he swore it would break out past his rips. His arms and legs felt like jelly.

The adrenaline rush that once plagued his mind began to falter, and the aches and pains surfaced. A groan rumbled in his chest as he took a moment to look down at himself. Much like the walls and floors, he was covered in vampire blood. If he had any injuries, it was hard to tell which blood spots were his. He looked back at the carnage at the bottom of the steps. The bodies needed to be disposed of, but (Y/N) could feel the strength drain from his body. He would not be able to carry a dozen bodies to the middle of the field. Not that night. He made a mental note to come back the next day.

After some time had passed, he was able to catch his breath enough to turn and make his way out of the house, careful as he stepped over his fallen enemies. The front screen door was slightly ajar from when he came in. The closer and the hinges were rusted, so it was no surprise that they couldn’t work with the force of his previous entry. He was surprised it hadn’t broken off at that point. They didn’t make things like they used to.

The summer air was crisp and warm, with high humidity that made (Y/N) feel disgusting. Despite that, it was the best air he could ask for. His nose was cleansed from the stench of death, and, for that, he was grateful. Any smell was better than the smell of death.

(Y/N) began the quarter-mile trek back to his truck. His lips were parted, his breathing slightly labored with each step he took. It felt as if his chest rattled like a pair of dice were being tossed around inside. Something was wrong, he knew that much, but he couldn’t assess himself until he had his medical supplies on his person. The risk of infection was high when out in the open like that, especially with the ticks that were undoubtedly lying somewhere in the grass that brushed against his ass, and the last thing he wanted was the contract Lyme disease.

Every ten paces or so, (Y/N) had to stop to catch his breath. It got increasingly difficult to dull the ache as if smoke harassed the soft, pink tissue. He knew he had to continue. Had to get to his car. Had to leave.

In the distance, the roof of his ‘91 Dodge Truck glimmered in the pale moonlight. A sense of relief washed over him, and his steps quickened. The weak smile he had was prominent on his lips, despite the pain that resonated through the muscles in his legs. A way out. His escape. A light at the end of the deep, dark tunnel.

The cold metal of the door handle caused a shiver to run down his spine. As he tried to open the door, the handle caught. Locked. A curse fell from his lips as he reached into his blood-soaked pant pocket and pulled out his car key. He fumbled with them, his grip weak and fingers shaky. Just as he was about to place the key into the door, they slipped out of his grip, hit the dirt ground, and settled under the truck, barely out of sight. He closed his eyes tightly and leaned his forehead against the glass of his window. More obscenities.

He had to be strategic. Every part of his body hurt. Which was the best way to get on the ground that would result in the least amount of pain? He was sure there was a way, but his brain wasn’t working as it should. Any critical thinking had gone out the window. The only option, at the moment, was the simplest.

Using whatever strength he had left, he held onto the door handle for support and lowered his right knee to the ground. His movements were slow like his entire body was covered in molasses. For a moment, all that appeared were slight aches in his thighs, and he had high hopes that he would be able to make it. However, as he reached the halfway point, a sharp, needle-like pain washed over his stomach, striking his entire nervous system.

(Y/N) let out a cry of pain as his body collapsed onto the ground, which sent even more agony through his limbs. He turned and landed on his ass, his back pressed against the truck’s chipped frame. In an instant, he could feel any energy he had vanish, immediately replaced by exhaustion. His eyelids were heavy, and the urge to sleep overpowered any other desire. He knew he couldn’t, though. The possibility of him having a concussion from the hunt was great, and he wouldn’t risk the damage it would do to him if he did slumber. 

Then again, the injury he was sure to have under the blood-stained clothes was even more of a risk.

With great struggle, (Y/N) removed his flannel. As he moved, he took note that the pain came from his right side. He grunted as he lifted the side of his shirt, the blood acting as a glue to hold it in place against his chest as his hands came to rest at his side. That was when he saw it.

An eight-inch gash was present, starting from his side and ending right above his naval. It wasn’t a simple surface scratch, either. Layers of muscle and skin tissue were visible. If it had gone any deeper, (Y/N) was certain his organs would lay in his lap. Blood spilled like a waterfall out of the wound, slowly, but aggressively. Most of the blood he had lost was no doubt already soaked into his shirt. It was the biggest injury that he had gotten in his whole hunting career. It was one that he knew he couldn’t fix with the simple sewing kit in his first-aid bag, but one that needed to be medically attended. He didn’t have the willpower to stand up and drive himself, though, let alone get the keys that rested under the car, merely a foot from his hand. Regardless, the nearest hospital was over forty minutes away. An ambulance, even when a hospital was around the corner, could take over an hour to get to the location of an accident. He couldn’t imagine how long it would take to get to him, let alone the legal trouble he would be in when law enforcement discovered the house. 

It was then that the realization struck him;

He was going to die.

He tried to convince himself that he was fine. That he could get up. He was just in a negative mindset. He would be fine.

In reality, any movement he tried to make only made his muscles tense and seize. He had to face the truth. He was going to die. But, damn, if he didn’t go down fighting.

It wasn’t obvious to him how long he had left, but he knew, just the same as anyone else, that he had to make his final moments last. So, with his last bit of might, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. The screen was stained red but, thankfully, the device was intact. He opened it, went to his contacts, and clicked on the one at the very top.

Dean Winchester

He had met the Winchesters over ten years ago through Bobby Singer. Fate had decided that they would all meet at the Singer residence after their respective hunts. They were introduced, and it was as if they clicked instantly. He got along well with both brothers and connected with many of their friends throughout the years. He considered them family. Sam and Dean offered him a bed in the Men of Letters bunker, which he had turned down, as he had become too accustomed to motel hopping to accept.

God, he wished he would have.

At first, he opted to place the phone next to his ear, but a couple of seconds in that position proved too long as his side cried out. Instead, he placed the call on speaker and sat it in his lap. The ring was dull and echoed slightly through the trees. A part of him was nervous that no one would pick up, that it was too early. He was conflicted, though. Did he even want them to answer? If he knew anything about the Winchesters, they were naturals at taking the blame for any deaths around them, even if they did nothing to warrant fault. He didn’t want to add to that burden.

“Hey, (Y/N)!” Dean’s voice greeted him.

(Y/N)’s lips curled upward into a weak smile as he let out a rattled sigh.

“Hey, Dean,” he replied. It was the first time in a couple of hours that he truly heard his voice. He sounded faint, hoarse, weak. He wondered if he looked nearly half as bad as he sounded. 

“Man, I haven’t heard from you in a couple of weeks. What’s been going on?”

“Oh, you know,” he trailed and leaned his head back against the truck. “Same old, same old. What about you guys?”

“Well, we just got back from - hold on, Sam wants me to put the phone on speaker.”

Pause.

“Hey, (Y/N)!” Sam’s voice came through the speaker.

“Hey, Sammy,” (Y/N) felt his smile become weaker.

“So, anyway, as I was saying,” Dean continued. “We just got back from a week-long hunt in Baltimore. Nasty ghost business. The news articles about this guy seemed like it came right out of Law and Order. I was so happy to pump some rock salt into that son of a bitch.”

“Since when do you watch Law and Order?” He asked.

“Law and Order: SVU to be exact,” Sam said.

“All I’m going to say is Detective Olivia Benson can arrest me any day.” There was an obvious smirk on Dean’s face.

(Y/N) let out a chuckle, which instantly progressed into a coughing fit. His fist was balled up in front of his lips as he tried to will his lungs to have mercy in his final moments. What seemed like an eternity later, his lungs listened, and he pulled his hand back. His thumb, index finger, and part of his palm were covered in blood. He brought his hand back up to his face and wiped his lips. More blood.

“Shit,” (Y/N) mumbled.

“You okay?” Dean asked.

“Yeah,”

“You feeling sick?” Sam added.

(Y/N) hesitated. “Sort of.”

“That sucks, man. Have you gone on that vampire hunt yet?”

“Wait, what vampire hunt?” Dean inquired.

“The one near Wichita? I told you about it a couple of days ago.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Yes, I did! You were watching The A-Team.”

“Oh yeah…I remember that. Hey, why do you get told about his hunts but not me?”

“Because, unlike you, I actually talk to him on an almost daily basis.”

Tears appeared in the corners of (Y/N)’s eyes, but he had little stamina to cry. He was going to miss this, the bickering. The brotherly back and forth between Sam and Dean. The late-night talks they would have over the phone. The week-long trips he would take to the bunker after recovering from a hunt. The prank wars. The diners. The bars. The terrible karaoke. The movie nights. The long hugs as they bid farewell. Oh, how he wished he could hug them one last time.

“(Y/N)?” Sam’s voice sounded more distant than before.

“Uh, yeah, sorry, I’m here.” He weakly cleared his throat and brought the phone closer to his ear, ignoring the throbbing in his stomach.

“Everything go okay with the hunt?”

“Well…going into it, I figured it would be about half a dozen vamps or so? Not much activity when I scouted. Turns out, there’s about a dozen or more.” He explained.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean mumbled.

“Do you want us to come down and help you? It won’t take us that long to get there. Maybe two hours or so.” Sam added.

(Y/N) shook his head. “No, no. I took care of them…but it seems like they took care of me, too.”

“What do you mean?” Dean asked, his voice low and on edge.

A lump appeared in his throat and threatened to cut off the next couple of words. He tried to push through it as he spoke.

“I’m not gonna make it.”

As soon as the words fell from his lips, shuffling could be heard on the other end of the line. No one said anything for a couple of seconds. The next person to speak was Dean.

“Listen, (Y/N), tell us where you are.” Dean’s voice was louder and more frantic, indicating that he had been taken off speaker. “We can come get you, patch you up, and you’ll be good as new, alright?”

“No, no, Dean-”

“Sam! Where are my keys!?”

“Dean-”

“You’re going to make it, okay, (Y/N)? Then, we can come back to the bunker and watch that stupid horror movie you’ve been begging us to watch.”

“Dean, I-”

That time, (Y/N) was interrupted by another coughing fit. Blood and spittle dribbled down his lips and chin. He could feel just how weak his lungs were, so it took some time for him to recover. Once the coughs died down, he was able to hear the familiar rumble of the Impala’s engine over the phone. What a beautiful sound. He was going to miss it.

“Did you get ahold of Cas?” Dean mumbled.

“I’m here, Dean,” Castiel’s voice came through.

“Great! (Y/N), tell us where you are, come on, buddy.”

“Cas,” (Y/N) croaked. “It’s so good to hear your voice. How are you?” His words were slow.

“(Y/N) you need to tell me where you are. I can come heal you.” Castiel’s voice was laced with seriousness and worry.

“No,” he said simply. “It’s too late.”

“It’s not too late!” Dean shouted.

“It is,”

“No, it’s not! You’re still talking to us, you’re still awake. Cas can come over and heal you.”

“Got it!” Sam exclaimed. “Make a left.”

“Guys, it feels like half of my blood is outside of my body. If I move, I think my stomach will fall out. I don’t want you to see me like this. You don’t deserve that.”

“(Y/N), please,” Castiel said. “I can help.”

(Y/N) huffed and would have smirked if he could. “You Winchesters with your stubborn attitude…” he took a few shaky breaths. “No matter what I say, you just never listen.”

“We never listen!?” Dean yelled.

“Dean-” Castiel began.

“No, Cas, this is bullshit. (Y/N), we are family, and family is supposed to be there for each other. They’re supposed to help each other when things get back. Why the Hell won’t you let us help you?”

“Because I’m already dead, Dean. I put this on myself. I-” he stopped to catch his breath. “I blindly went into the house without backup. This is on me. I’m meant to have-” breathe. “-a hunter’s death. To die fighting, and I can proudly say that I killed every last one of those slimy bastards.”

“(Y/N)-”

“Dean, let me finish. Please. I don’t want our last call to be remembered like this.”

Dean stayed silent. (Y/N) waited a moment. The corners of his vision had gone blurry, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep his eyes open. He didn’t have much time left.

“I love you guys, all of you. My life wouldn’t have been nearly as exciting as it was without you. Sam, I’m going to miss our little nerd talks. Miss seeing Dean’s face when we talk about Lord of the Rings. Dean-” his voice trailed as he felt his head lull to the side.

“(Y/N)! Hey, (Y/N), stay with us,” Sam said.

(Y/N) lifted his head. “Dean, I’m going to miss trying to out-drink you at the bar.”

Dean gave a sad, dry chuckle. “You never even got close.”

“And, Cas, God, I’m going to miss our late-night talks. I can’t even count on one hand the amount of times our calls lasted longer than four hours.”

“I do enjoy talking with you,” Castiel confirmed. 

“(Y/N), please,” Sam begged.

“I love you all. I love you, Dean. I love you, Sam. I love you, Castiel.” (Y/N)’s voice was barely above a whisper.

“I love you, (Y/N),” Dean answered. 

“Love you, (Y/N),” Sam followed.

“I love you, too, (Y/N).” Castiel finished.

Their voices were quiet, filled with sadness and defeat. He hated that that was the last he would hear from them.

“Goodbye,” he breathed.

“No, (Y/N), please,” Sam tried to plead.

The call ended.

(Y/N) took one last look at the phone before he gave into gravity and let his arm drop to his side. 

By then, his breathing had slowed substantially. His chest barely rose and fell with the efforts his lungs put in. And that rattle, the death rattle. He knew it all too well. Years of witnessing death firsthand made a man knowledgeable on the topic.

On the horizon, past the field and toward the distant treeline, the sun began to rise. Speckled layers of early morning sunlight coated his skin, but he felt no warmth. On the contrary, he felt cold. Slow. He didn’t know that a human’s body could get so cold. With it, though, there was numbness. No more pain, no more aches. Just peace.

He never knew what it would be like to die - it didn’t occur to him to ask Sam and Dean about their countless encounters with death - but if he knew it would be so calm and, dare he say, tranquil, he might not have spent so long fighting for his life as he had in the past. It was an experience unlike any other. Perhaps that wasn’t his true feelings on the subject. Perhaps it was because he knew that was his fate, that he had no chance. Acceptance. He was ready.

The last thing he saw before his vision faded to black was the sun, uncovered by the foliage, in its bright glory. It felt like an old friend who wanted to greet him one last time, and he appreciated the sentiment. The welcoming of a new dawn was short-lived. Once his vision faded, his eyelids closed, his muscles relaxed, his head lulled to the side;

And he died.

*~*

Dean didn’t drive nearly as fast as he had wanted to. The foolish part of him still had hope. Hope that they would find their friend unconscious, but alive. That (Y/N) had been exaggerating his wound. That he would be fine. 

He has to be fine.

But the logical side of him, his brother, told him that he knew better. He had seen more than his fair share of friends die in his life, and it seemed to develop into a pattern. He met someone, promised himself he wouldn’t get close, got close, and then they died. An endless cycle. Wash, rinse, repeat.

And now, he was back on repeat.

It was nine in the morning by the time they spotted (Y/N)’s truck. Dean had to turn the car around, as they had passed it before. The treeline that sat on the edge of the road was thick, leaving visibility to be quite reduced. When they pulled onto the dirt path, they stopped a good twenty feet from the white pickup and sat there. None of them spoke. Instead, they sat in a heavy, dead, grief-filled silence, as if a fog had descended upon them. Time moved leisurely, at least from their perspective. In all actuality, it passed by them at the speed of light. By the time any of them moved into their seats, it was closer to ten.

They got out of the car and slowly made their way over to the truck. They walked steadily, as if on autopilot like their limbs were being held back by chains. They had to continue, for (Y/N)’s sake.

When they turned the corner of the front of the truck, they saw him. (Y/N)’s lifeless body lay against the side of the car, shoulders drooped, and mouth hung open. The gravel surrounding him was caked in uneven layers of dried blood, along with his shirt and jeans. Any color had drained from his skin. Bugs buzzed around the open gash still visible on his stomach, which had stopped bleeding at some point.

Sam choked back on a sob that tried to escape his throat, but he would not allow it. He covered his mouth with his hand and turned his back. He could feel the cry of pain threaten to claw its way out, threaten to break him down. He had to stay strong, though. He couldn’t possibly let Dean and Castiel deal with it all. (Y/N) was his friend, his brother, and he had to take responsibility for his body, as well. He couldn’t just let his brother and best friend handle it. That wouldn’t be fair to them. Wouldn’t be fair to (Y/N).

Dean stopped as soon as he saw his body. The visual of it made realization hit him like a truck. (Y/N) was dead. He was gone. All those times together watching movies, drinking at bars, or bickering with each other were a thing of the past, never to be repeated. The moments they shared would never get spread through a jovial reunion after retirement, nor would they get to grow old together. They would never get the opportunity to call each other ‘old bastard’ before they sat in their lawn chairs and talked for hours. Dean never even got the chance to teach him how to fish. The potential ‘what ifs’ turned into ‘what could have beens’, and the fact that he tricked himself into thinking it was possible made him feel like an idiot.

Castiel lagged when it came to turning the corner, for he knew what awaited on the other side. He had seen his fair share of death in regards to people he cared about, but he and (Y/N) had gotten rather close in the years they had known one another. He was the one who introduced Castiel to a larger variety of music, television shows, and films that Dean would have otherwise not done. He had opened his eyes to a world far beyond anything he could ever imagine. For that, Castiel would be forever grateful. When he saw (Y/N)’s body, he felt his chest ache. It wasn’t heartbreak, as Castiel knew he was unable to feel such emotion. Rather, he felt empty, as if a part of him had been ripped away and burned. One of his dearest friends had been taken. His family had been taken. True, he would get a chance to visit (Y/N) in Heaven, but it was not the same. 

Castiel was the first one to move over to his body. The cut on his stomach made him realize that, perhaps, (Y/N) wasn’t lying. It was deep, ghastly. Most likely, the time between the call ending and his time of death was minimal. Minutes if not seconds. There was truly nothing Castiel could have done. Even if he had the grace of an archangel, there was not enough power to heal him. His body was too far gone. 

With one look over at Sam and Dean, Castiel could see that any strength had vanished from their bodies. Their shoulders were slumped, and any light had left their eyes. He knew they would not be able to carry him, not while he was like that. He took the initiative and wrapped an arm around (Y/N)’s back and legs. It took little effort to lift him, despite the dead weight. Castiel was cautious when moving his body, knowing that the wound was still fresh. (Y/N)’s head shifted to the side, cheek pressed against his chest. Castiel walked over to Sam and Dean. Their eyes never left his body.

“I believe someone should take his car,” Castiel’s voice broke the silence that had hovered over them for hours. His voice was uncharacteristically soft and quiet. “I saw the keys under the driver’s side.”

Tears were flowing freely down Sam’s cheeks, his eyes red and burning. “I’ll-” he cleared his throat to steady his voice. “I’ll drive it.”

“No,” Dean’s broken speech interrupted. “Um…I’ll take him. Do you mind driving the truck, Cas?”

“I do not mind.” Castiel shook his head.

Dean nodded. Wordlessly, he dug into his pocket and pulled out the keys to the Impala. He held them out to Sam, who looked at his brother to silently confirm his actions. When nothing was said, Sam took the keys. Dean dropped his hand to his side as if the keys had been the only thing capable of keeping them up before he turned back to Castiel, arms held out.

Castiel began to carefully transfer (Y/N)’s body from his arms to Dean’s. It was almost ceremonial, and when Dean felt the heavy weight of the body in his arms, he held him close, as if he were made of glass, that he would shatter into a million pieces if Dean moved the wrong way.

But he was already broken.

They spoke nothing more before they dispersed. Castiel turned back to the truck to fetch the keys, Dean made his way to the Impala, and Sam followed. Sam opened the back passenger door and took a step back. Dean got in, his movements deliberate and guarded, the lifeless body still held tight to his chest. It took a moment for him to finally get settled in the backseat. Once he was, Sam shut the door and made his way over to the driver’s side.

Dean’s eyes never left (Y/N)’s face, determined to take in every last detail. He looked so peaceful, as if only in a deep sleep. There had been a handful of times Dean had carried (Y/N) to one of the many spare bedrooms after he fell asleep watching a movie, but he had never felt so heavy. Maybe it wasn’t him, but, rather, the weight Dean could feel on his heart. Dean held countless regrets. He wished he would have talked to him more. Wished he would have remembered being told about the hunt. He would have suggested that they stop to help on the way back from their previous hunt. If only he had listened better, maybe (Y/N) would still be alive. 

If only…

Dean didn’t even notice when Sam started the car, backed out onto the dirt road, and began to make the silent journey back to the bunker. As Sam drove, he would periodically sneak a peak in the rearview mirror at his brother and best friend. Each time, he had to swallow the lump that had threatened to make an appearance, but he let the tears flow. When he wasn’t looking at them, his mind wandered to the day ahead. The preparation for a hunter’s funeral didn’t take that long, as they were used to the process by then, but it didn’t make it any less painful. Everything had to be perfect. It was what (Y/N) deserved, and they would make sure to give him the best send-off they could. 

*~*

They gave themselves time to grieve - a day and some odd hours - while they collected the necessary materials for the funeral. While (Y/N)’s body lay in the spare bedroom he always claimed as his, they took turns alone with him. They shared memories, regrets, jokes, and emotions that would have otherwise been kept under lock and key. Then, when the pyre, just northwest of the bunker, was ready, they had Sam carry him out to his final resting place, giving them each an opportunity to hold him one last time.

With his body wrapped up tightly, he was placed on top of the pile of wood underneath the stars. Dean, Sam, and Castiel stood back and silently stared for a couple of minutes. As the late-night song of crickets came, Dean reached into his pocket and pulled out three lighters. He handed Castiel and Sam each one before he returned to the spot next to his brother. In unison, they clicked their lighters to life and tossed them to the pyre, one after another.

It took a moment for the wood to catch, but, in an instant, the faint crackling from the burning wood roared to life, engulfing (Y/N)’s body in its warmth. It was poetic, to die a hunter. To die protecting others, even when they didn’t know. They would never get their names in history books or their own documentary. No recognition is to be found. Only stories spread through fellow hunters and close friends kept their memory alive. They were true heroes of their time. Martyrs for a cause unknown.

That night, Sam, Dean, and Castiel vowed to never let his story die. In every way they could, they would spread (Y/N)’s story to everyone who would listen. They would light fires with their words and watch the world burn if it meant everyone knew of the person he was. For as long as they lived, (Y/N) would never truly die.

“Please, don’t worry so much, because in the end none of us have very long on this Earth - life is fleeting. And if you’re ever distressed, cast your eyes to the summer sky when the stars are strung across the velvety night, and when a shooting star streaks through the blackness turning night into day, make a wish and think of me. Make your life spectacular. I know I did.”

~ Robin Williams

[obsessivelyloved]

Day 1: Monster

The prompt is from this list. Hope you guys enjoy!

__________________________________________________

There were scratch marks on your porch this morning—big, deep ones. You called out of work. You called animal control. There was nothing they could do.

A set of large footprints circled your house. They wrapped around it over and over, as if something was pacing. They stopped, deep, in front of your bedroom window. There were claw marks on your windowsill.

You had slept with your curtains open.

“Sorry,” The man from animal control had apologized, wringing his hands. “More than likely, it was a curious bear smelling food from your house. It’s long gone into the woods. But if you hear anything at night, hide up in your attic and give us a call.”

You numbly nodded your head. “Will do, thanks for- thanks for your time.”

The man left and all you could do was stare down at your porch, at the large footprints, with fear stuck in your throat. It wasn’t a bear. Bears didn’t have such large claws or feet like a coyote. Or the kind of feet bunnies have, whatever it was.

You didn’t want to stay home but you had nowhere else to go. You had recently moved to this dreary part of England, a little away from the city. It was in your grandmother’s will for you to inherit the house; you couldn’t turn it down. It was completely paid off, all you had to pay was the normal stuff like electricity and water. But now, well, maybe you should have waited until you your friend's lease was up. You would have been dealing with this stress better with someone.

Trees lined the back side of the house, but your grandmother had never been worried about animals. She didn’t even have a backyard fence, not having too many neighbors out here.

“I should go see if the hardware store sells cameras,” you say to yourself.

With a shaky breath, heart still hammering inside your chest, you gather what you need and head out. Thankfully, there’s a couple of stores ten minutes away. They’re mostly the necessities, anything but the basics and a few variety items, you have to drive to the city for. It’s a tad annoying but it’s nice to be able to own a house. Something you thought was going to be impossible in this day and age to do.

You feel as if you're in a fog, entering the small parking lot. Watching through a camera as you enter the hardware store.

Fuck you were so scared that the thing was going to come back. What if it turned out to be the Rake? That thing had haunted you for years. Stuff like that has always scared you even though you know it’s not real. Or, hope it’s not real.

“Hi! Need any help today?”

The cashier snaps you out of the fog a little, but you’re still freaked out.

“Hi,” you say, your voice cracking a little. “Do you guys sell cameras here? Like, the ones for outside?”

The lady, Jess, her name tag helpfully supplies, hums a little. She looks off to the side as she thinks.

“I um, have an animal problem,” you add. “The animal control services think it’s a bear, but I’m not sure.”

Jess lit up. “We should still have some trail cams leftover from hunting season. They’ll be right this way.”

She led you through the small store, the small aisles feeling suffocating. The cameras were on an almost completely bare shelf, the words 50% in bold hung on a banner above the shelf.

“Now that hunting season is over, we can’t really sell these. This-“ she grabs a black camera off of the shelf, “-model is the last we have. I’m not going to lie, it kind of sucks but it’s better than nothing if you really need it.”

You take a deep breath. The panic sinks in a little harder. “How does it suck? I actually really need something. I-I want to be prepared to call animal control if the bear comes back tonight.”

She gives you a sympathetic smile.

“It has a three minute delay. Most hunters hate these since their prey tends to scatter by the time they’re caught on the feeds, but this should work for you since bears aren’t too fast when they have nothing to do. I’d recommend trying to set at least one up further from your property, so you can catch the bear quicker.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you.”

“Of course! Let me know if you need help with anything.”

Jess sets the box back onto the shelf, leaving you to your thoughts. Even at fifty percent off these were expensive…..

In the end, you could only afford three. Jess rang you up and wished you well with your bear problem.

You didn’t want to go home. Somehow, you did. One moment you were sitting in your car, staring blankly at the woods, then the next, you were setting up the cameras as best you could.

One was set as high up as you could get it onto the trees behind your house. Another went next to your porch light. And the last, you put above your back door.

After you set them up, connecting them to your laptop, you waited. You waited and waited. Restless, pacing the house with your laptop plugged in and open. Night falls and you distantly think you’re going to be sick. You don’t make dinner. You hardly drink. All you can do is wait.

Eventually, you move your things up to the attic. You turned all the lights off in the house before moving some blankets and pillows upstairs. You’re so thankful there were plugins in the attic. Your laptop dying would have stressed you out more.

By 12 a.m., you start to relax a little. Nothing has triggered your cameras. Whatever it was probably won’t come back. Nothing of worth laid outside your house.

You blink and 1 am glares at you from the corner of your screen. You curl into your blankets and drift off to sleep……

Your laptop beeps.

You bolt awake, scrambling to pull your laptop close. The furthest camera caught movement. Something big was making its way past the tree line. Next, your back door caught it. The night vision didn’t help you at all in trying to figure out what the hell was out there.

If it didn’t have horns above its head you’d thought it was a bear.

Fear crawled up your chest as it sniffed the back door, pawing at the wooden steps. As it moves towards the side of the house, your brain starts to work again.

You scramble around for your phone, desperate to call animal control. But…. you left it downstairs.

Tears prickle your eyes as your laptop beeps again. The porch camera caught it.

You press your hands tight against your mouth. Tears and whimpers escape as you can only stare at the screen.

Sharp purple horns jutted out from its head, dark purple scales lined it’s body. And it’s face….. It had sharp teeth and one black eye.

.

.

.

.

.

It was inside the house.

[necros-writing-stuff]

Eden's EOCK is too huge and monstrous to pc to handle and having seggs only cause pain but no pleasure so pc doesn't want to have any intercourse but shows their love in platonic ways instead. Would Eden stifle their instinct or still force to having seggs even pc really dislike that painful things(I know pc can satisfy Eden with oral, hands, feet etc but Eden wants babies anyways🥴)

SORRY NECRO but I can't stop thinking Eden with monster pp and it makes me insane 🥴🥴🥴 I LOVE YOU AND YOUR WRITINGS<3

Your horniness for Eden is understood and encouraged, never be afraid to come to my inbox with it.

I cannot hammer home enough how little your consent means to Eden. I mean, it gives him an ego boost and confirmation of the relationship when you agree to the sex - but at no point will it stop him from just taking what he wants anyway unless there's something like a medical reason.

If you ask Eden to use lube to help I do think he would do it though. When he remembers. If you're out of the cabin then he'll likely shove it in regardless.

As much as I adore my hunter, I have to be for real and say I don't think he does much foreplay. The patience for it isn't there, nor is the consideration for your comfort. This is one of the reasons that, even though all of the characters have no set gender, I have a hard time seeing Eden as female. The dynamic between Eden and PC is incredibly old school, misogynistic beaten trad wife and the insecure, toxically masculine husband coded.

Eden loves you. Eden wants to keep you safe. But Eden's warped view of himself as a saviour protecting you from the harms of life skews his ability to recognise the harm he causes. He's contradictory, which makes him human.

[chilled-to-the-bone]

Tech survived. He was one of the CXs. More precisely, he was the one that fought with Hunter. He was the one Hunter hit with a spear. And how did Hunter react?

When he finds out it was Tech, he's in utter shock. There was something about the CX that didn't seem right. There was something strange but familiar about him. He thought it was because it was a clone. He looked like the one Rex's team captured. Besides he knows clones' way of fighting. It's never the same. But there is always sort of a factor or a specific move they share. He assumed it to be the case. But the thought kept coming back to him. He decided to check it when he had a chance, if he got one. And then he got it. He took it. But nothing could have prepared him for what he'd find out.

The CX's helmet slipped off his head and fell to the floor. The first glimpse he got at the CX helmetless face was a suprise to say the least. His mind had trouble processing the image he saw. Deep down he knew what it is. Who it is. It was like his mind was fighting with itself. He didn't want to see what he was seeing. He wasn't able to comprehend what was before his eyes. The face under the helmet...it was almost unrecognizable. Scars, bruises and burns covered almost every inch of his skin. But he knew that face. He'd recognize it anywhere. It was his brother's face. It was Tech.

He froze. He expected some...things he might see in that moment. But not this. He wasn't ready for this. Truth be told, no amount of time could have prepared him for this. He would never be ready to see this. When his brain finally registered what was happening he questioned if it was even real. 'Maybe it's just some horrible, cruel nightmare?' But it was not. It was real. Panic started bubbling in his chest. Sound of blood rushing in his ears. His heart hammering stronger and stronger. Then it felt like something cracked deep inside of him. He just stood there not being able to move or do anything. He felt paralyzed. Like his mind somehow detached from his body. His head spun. He almost collapsed. Then he felt sick. Sick of himself. Disgusted by himself. 'What have I done? How could I have done it?'.

He sees Cosshair walking up to Tech for some reason. He touches his neck. He seems alarmed. Then he's trying to free the body. He's struggling. He sees more than hears Crosshair yelling something. He doesn't know what's happening. It feels like the whole world is behind some thick glass. Everything seems blurry. He just stands there. Then he notices Omega, Echo, Wrecker and some others running up to Crosshair. Their expressions full of confusion and unspoken questions. They are running to help Crosshair. Wrecker removes the spear from assassin's...Tech's body. 'It's pointless. He's already dead.' They carefully lay him on the ground. Then Hunter realizes something. 'There's still a chance. It's not too late. Tech's alive. He didn't kill him.'

After what seems like an eternity he finally moves. He needs to move. His family needs him. He has to help them. They have to leave before the empire's reinforcements arrive. They gather all the survivors and board the ship. The flight is quiet. No one is saying anything. Mostly because they don't know what to say and everyone is exhausted. Hunter glances at Tech. His breathing is barely noticable. His whole torso is wrapped in bandages and covered in blood. The blood he spilled. 'There is so much blood.' Hunter sits there just staring. His expression empty and his gaze lost somewhere far away. He's still in disbelief. He is hit by a wave of despair. 'I was supposed to protect him. I failed. I almost killed him. I almost killed my brother. I'm a monster.'

Someone sits next to him. It's Crosshair. He's not saying anything at first. After a while he says something Hunter knows is true. "You can blame yourself and sulk however much you want. It won't help him. It won't change anything." He needed to hear it but it still felt like a punch to the gut. There is a movement to his right. Omega sits next to him as well. He looks at her. Her eyes are red and swollen from crying. She grabs his hand. She is saying something. "It's not your fault. You couldn't possibly have known it was Tech. None of us could. You had to fight to survive." She is right. But he looks at Tech again and he thinks 'It IS my fault. I did this to him.'. Suddenly he can't think straight. He's overwhelmed by guilt. There is a bile rising in the back of his throat. He whispers "What have I done?". He hides his face in his hands. His breathing becomes uneven. His eyes start to burn and his vision goes blurry. He can't fight this anymore. Hot tears start rolling down his face. He just breaks down and quietly starts sobbing.

This is kind of a part 2 of this

[basilpaste]

so it’s been established you fucking predicted The Cage, but but but. i HAVE to ask. because it’s been rotating in my brain since I played them and I love asking questions…do you mayhap have any thoughts on the other two new chapters (princess and the dragon + happily ever after) in the context of slay the savior au? i just have to ask on the off chance!

I THINK ABOUT THEM. OFTEN. were it not for the fact that slay the savior tells the story i want it to, id think about them SO MUCH MORE. if princess and the dragon was out back when i was writing phantom, you better BELIEVE i wouldve gone down that route. i thought about making my own chapter three for phantom for a good minute, too!! because spectre is my favorite princess. it never got nearly as far into development as prop did, but i thought about it!!

i have notes for every savior though, not just the saviors in the fics. like..... the show must go on exists in the place where eye of the needle would have, but the working title for an eye of the needle savior was eye of the storm.

like. i had notes. for a LONG time.

im getting off topic, though. the princesses added in pristine cut:

obviously i basically clocked cage before we even got like... teaser stuff of cage. prop would have been very similar to cage, though probably less expansive.

if princess and the dragon was around... im not sure what id name it! chapter one for sts is already that same vibe. "the savior and the monster". the monster and the savior? OOO a fun direction could be The Hunter and the Prey. im sure i could make a case for using hunted over opportunist. keeps the +1 sharing a name with the base game, too! and i never got to put a lot of attention on hunted which is a shame because sts hunted is fun. for fun and drama, id give the fighter a little more control over the body while isas not in it!

as for happily ever after.... its a hard one for me to imagine rewriting because its a route thats difficult for me to get through. not because its bad, just because it hits a wee bit close to home, lmao.

the name would probably stay, though. happily ever after works well for the Themes. but something like Curtain Call might work, too. and as much as i hate to axe another opportunist appearance, itd be the version with paranoid, so restless could pop up again! restless is fun i like him. it would also really hammer home the monotony of being stuck in a timeloop. lots of allusions to bad touch, also. i think lovestruck could physically drape over siffrin in it, like a veil. hiding them from the truth.

[sonicasura]

In the middle of a Frozen Lake currently Ice Fishing

" Why Hello there. I'm back fishing up some Crossover ideas. I hope you enjoy what I caught today. Also as for this one is Anton Blast. Don't ask me why but I feel Anton would be a good father and Annie the chaotic Aunt anyway here we go!"

Anton Blast/ Monster Hunter

Rider was in quite the predicament. Alone in a unfamiliar place with only there trusted Long Sword and Kinship Stone. No Monsties, no friends, only the equipment they had on them. This was one Hell of a bind they found themselves in.

Thankfully a Kind-Hearted yet easily enraged man takes them under his care along with his chaotic work partner.

Anton Blast/ Kirby

Kirby's Star Ship crashed landed in Boiler City a far cry from what was the Star Ship's original destination. However a man who is just as Spirited as the Spirits he drinks finds the young dazed Star Warrior and decides too take the lovable Pink Puffball under his care.

Something that will definitely not lead too shenanigans or grand adventures at all

Anton Blast/ Mega Man

Anton didn't expect too find a young Kid who looked like he just fought the Devil Himself, but there he was lying on the ground beaten too high Hell. That just boiled Anton's blood. Who the Hell beats the stuffing out of some poor kid?! He was gonna take the Kid back too his apartment. Annie despite being a Master at demolition was actually fantastic with a first aid kit.

Though unknown too Anton he was gonna need some nuts and bolts for the Kid. Good thing Annie is also fantastic with machines

Back too the Frozen over lake

" Well I hope you enjoy what I got! I like all of them especially the Mega man one! Anyways thanks for sticking around. Now back too some more Ice fishing"

Hope your ice fishing goes super well!

I love all three because while Anton is chaotically blunt, he does have a good heart. Also he's canonically a single dad so the man has experience in the parenting department. Either option guarantees some craziness.

For the first scenario, I can see Rider's Kinship Stone acting as a detector for their missing Monsties. Each one has new equipment for them to use. Also Anton would be so giddy to see his new kid can also wield a hammer.

Hammer Kirby is definitely gonna be a favorite transformation between the two demolitionists. Also the pink puffball would be such a terror to the Ballbusters. The Pink Demon nickname continues to spread.

Annie and Anton would also be slightly surprised that they found a robot kid. Finding spare parts around Boiler City wouldn't be too difficult. Even if some might have to come from a blimp being piloted by the Bossbusters.

Also apparently Tony Grayson, one of the people behind Antonblast, says that the world is essentially post apocalyptic with only Florida(now the Backburner Peninsula), Brazil and Japan being left. Groudon would have a field day in making new land.

[gdinneroll]

spn au angel eddie and hunter steve

Steve and Max each hold up their guns to the barn doors as they slam open and a man enters. It can’t actually be a man, can it? He’s pretty as all hell, with dark curls and porcelain skin, and big brown doe eyes framed by dark lashes. Neither hunter hesitates to load bullets into the guy, who seems to be completely unaffected–he steps over salt lines, sigils, and devil’s traps like he’s en pointe in ballet. 

If he wasn’t supposed to kill it, Steve would fuck this thing in a heartbeat.

The ceiling lights explode over the creature as he passes them, and he seems to hardly blink. Max has given up on the gun and throws one of their demon knives, which lands in the creature’s chest. Not in the heart, but close enough. He doesn’t flinch, and Steve feels his heart drop for a moment, before hammering in his chest. The hair on his neck stands on end, he wipes the thin sheen of sweat from his forehead. Steve turns to look for something else, and when he glances back, the thing is already there. 

Shorter than anticipated, Steve’s got five, six inches on the guy, who is currently taking the knife from his own chest like it’s a particularly annoying string on his clothes. Leather jacket over a plain purple t-shirt, black ripped skinny jeans, and what kind of monster is immune to all this shit and still looks that fuckable? Steve’s not a massive fan, so he sneers at the thing and practically snarls at him.

“What are you?”

The man smiles softly, and speaks in a smooth, (gods, he’s fuckin’ pretty) perfect voice.

“I am the one who raised you from perdition.”

Steve absentmindedly raises his right hand towards his left bicep, where a thin-fingered handprint scar has laid ever since he arose from his grave. Max goes to sneak up on him with a baseball bat, which the man catches and presses two fingers to her forehead, and she starts to drop. The creature lets go of the bat and breaks Max’s fall before she hits the ground. He lays her gently down and turns to Steve.

“I have to speak with you, Stephen.”

“Like hell you do!”

Doe-eyes watches with vague confusion as Steve kneels next to Max and checks for her pulse, until she begins to snore and he gives a sigh of relief.

“Your friend is fine, Stephen.”

Steve grumbles, half-heartedly turning to the thing.

“She’s my sister. And don’t call me that. Who the hell are you?”

The creature holds out a hand and Steve slaps it away, standing up himself and glaring down pretty-boy.

“My name is Eridanus. I’m an angel of the Lord.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

“You don’t believe me.”

It isn’t a question.

Steve rolls his eyes, and snorts.

“No, I don’t. God’s not real and neither are angels.”

“That’s your problem, Stephen, you have no faith.”

Thunder cracks, and the shadow of wings appear against the wall of the barn. Steve scoffs.

“Some angel you are. You burned that woman’s eyes out.”

Eridanus bows their head solemnly.

“My mistake. I warned her not to gaze upon my true visage. Certain people can. I thought you were one of them.”

“What visage is this? Wannabe rockstar?”

The angel picks a piece of fluff off of their leather jacket.

“This is a vessel. She had already abandoned it and gave me permission to continue to use it.”

[timelessmulder]

31 Days of horror day 19: Hunter

i am very behind. i am playing catch up. anyway here is a little thing with my monster of the week hunter, russ, a hobo from the 1920s/30s (this takes place in uuuh 1925)

Workmen liked to talk.

They talked on breaks. On quiet nights between shifts, before they retired to bed or their families or boarded the next train out of town.

Russ listened more than he talked. Of course, inevitably the other workers would take notice, and they would needle him for a story or two, and he could regale with the best of them. The places he'd been, the people he'd met. Tall tales, if that's what the others were after. But in most cases he would sit, and he would listen.

The tracks had spat him out at a dime a dozen dusty little town with a few dozen residents and a handful of shops along a street not yet paved. It was the sort of place with eternal odd jobs, everyone needing help with this and that but no long term work; it was tucked in the forest, but a disaster had ground the lumber work to a halt. The folks there talked about needing some new building or another: a new town hall, a new church, a bigger school house that the residents couldn't afford their children attending. But those drifted from person to person like a rumor, never to manifest.

Russ, freshly seventeen, still a tangle of limbs yet to be filled out, sat with fellow laborers on break. They'd been hired to help repair the rundown post office whose decades old roof had finally went from sagging to fully broken. The work had proven more extensive than initially believed, one day stretching into two when it was discovered rot had extended into the walls.

"Y'all heard about that disaster?" one of the men, a wiry hobo who went by Snag said. He'd been in town for a few months by then, and running the tracks a full decade longer than Russ. His hair was neat and clothes recently darned; rumor was he'd been flirting with the local tailor's daughter, a few years widowed.

An older man, square framed and leathery faced with bristly gray beard streaked with brown, spat. Bill had wandered the country longer than either of them - had seen more years on the road than Russ had in his life - only bunkering down when the influenza hit; he'd been lucky enough to not catch it, but safer to get antsy than roll into a brand new town. The man eyed Snag, and said, "The disaster that every twenty-somethin' says was some act of god?"

"It's a fun story!"

"Superstitious folk in a superstitious town." Bill rolled a loose stone under the toe of his boot, kicking it toward a far tree where it collided with the gnarled trunk. "I don't know if you've noticed but most of this town is Irish." He glanced at Russ, with his pale skin and freckled face and russet brown hair that shone red when the light hit it just right. "No offense, Rusty."

Russ scoffed, a sound close enough to a laugh. "I'm not that Irish," he said. "My eyes are brown." He rocked on the stump he'd taken for a seat, grinding the heel of a boot that had seen better days into soft dirt. "I haven't heard the story though."

"That's right, you just rolled in a few days ago. Still trust a kid as green as you more than Snag when it comes to swinging a hammer." Russ bit back a retort that he'd been on his own for a few years now, thank you very much, but he bit down on it. Meanwhile, Snag scoffed in his indignation. Bill waved his hand at him, swatting away his annoyance. "Whatever, Snag, you can tell the kid."

***

There was a monster, that lurked in the woods around the town. Something ancient, older than the land itself, pulsing in the roots of the trees and stirring in the underbrush. The work of the lumbermen had disturbed it, churning the earth around its sleeping body until the world split beneath their boots. Healthy trees had shaken loose from their anchors, falling to crush the men too stunned to move out of the way. It had been a warning, the townsfolk said, and they were wise enough to heed the creaking voice of the forest.

When work had stopped for the day, and the sun had just kissed the horizon, Russ made his way to the woods. He had his pack slung over his shoulder and notebook in hand, old and tattered and carrying all he had learned about beings and items that most people ignored. His tread was light, much like a hunter tracking a deer, and his ears were sharp, searching for any snapping twig that whispered danger. Shadows reached their grasping fingers across the leaf littered ground, dappled by the dregs of sunlight permeating the leaves.

Russ watched his step, wary of any hidden root that may catch him. Perhaps any equipment had been left behind some decades before, retaken by the wilderness. The last thing he needed was a turned ankle, or worse.

The trees thickened. The world darkened, a deep black that swaddled the terrain and the trees and the creatures creeping within. Tucked between some old work clothes was a flashlight, and while it danced at the edge of his thoughts, Russ didn't want to stop and paw through his belongings. There was still enough light from the stars pricked in the blanket of night sky and waning moon to see. He pressed on, eyes narrowed.

The further he got from the town, and the more sure he became that he should turn back, a profound silence took hold of the air. The night time band of owls and crickets grew more hushed, trickling into nothing, as if they were holding their breath. It was not an oppressive silence, he thought, now keenly aware of the thump of his boots and swish of his jeans. A church with its holy reverence, pulling at the air with its grand weight.

Something in that inky black was watching him. He could feel it, prickling along his back, and he faltered. He slowed. And he stopped. A soft breeze shook the canopy of leaves, a soft sigh of a noise. Russ clutched his backpack to himself, clumsy fingers finding the compartment where he kept his knife. He turned on his heel in a slow and steady arc, alert and searching in the deep and empty dark.

A set of eyes peered at him from a tangle of roots. They were large, but not impossibly so. Large in the way of a watching cat, slits staring out from the amber glow of its irises. It watched Russ, unmoving, unblinking, and there was something intelligent about its gaze. Something ancient, with a question more than a challenge what will you do now? Russ' fingers curled around the worn canvas of his bag, swallowing against the knot tying itself in his throat.

The air around him shifted. It rippled with an unseen mass that made Russ take a step back. "'M sorry," he said to the creature still watching him. His voice cracked in the way all boys' voices do at that age, but there was no room for its accompanying embarrassment, too consumed was he by the sense he had stepped somewhere he didn't belong. "I'll uhm. I'll be going."

He made a slow and careful way back to the town. He did not pause to search for his flashlight until he heard the first chirping of crickets, though he was sure those curious eyes had followed after him. Just to make sure he left this place, whatever it was. He swept its beam in a steady arc and did little more than startle a barred owl perched in a nearby tree, revealing nothing of the thing that stalked behind him.

The town still hummed with life, when he crossed the barrier between forest and civilization. It was like the piercing of a veil, the woods almost reluctant to relinquish its hold on him. He scrambled out of the shadows and into the flickering glow of the town's handful of streetlamps and the houses that were still awake. Switching off his flashlight, fear melted away into feeling foolish. It was just an animal, he told himself, letting the flashlight cool down before being put away as he made his way to the small inn where he was staying (not in exchange for work, for once, the innkeeper's daughter had batted her eyes at him and gave a tilted smile when she gave him a place to board. He still wasn't sure what she wanted in turn). He'd wandered into the woods on the heels of a tale. He knew things existed, had seen enough for himself to know that.

Maybe the woods of the town had nothing to show for it. Maybe it didn't want to give up its secrets.

Russ did not return to the woods to investigate. Not in moonlight nor sunlight. He didn't speak to the others about going in and what he felt, what he saw. He finished the work and took the meager pay, and he hopped the next train he could.

[duhragonball]

Chainsaw Man ch. 5-12

Ha ha! Look at this adorable li'l guy! Hell yeah!

All right, so last time, Denji merged with Pochita (see above), and became Chainsaw Man. Well, his monster form with the chainsaws isn't actually named anything, at least not yet, but the comic is titled Chainsaw Man, so that's what I'm calling his chainsaw form.

Anyway, Denji was coerced into joining the Public Safety Devil Hunter Squad Directorate Organization Agency Conglomeration whatever. He's mainly in it for the food, shelter, and a possible chance of intimate relations with women. His boss, Makima orders him to go on a patrol with another teammate, Power.

Power is a fiend, which is a devil who has inhabited a human corpse. This is somehow different from the Pochita/Denji merger, but I'm not clear on the distinction yet. Power would seem to be on the supply side of devil hunting, but Makima seems to think she can make use of her, and Power is willing to play along, probably because Makima will kill her if she doesn't.

At first, the two of them have trouble finding any devils in town, but then Power spots one and immediately destroys it with a big magic hammer. This was a bad call, because there was already a civilian devil hunter handling this devil, and apparently it's against the rules for devil hunters to jump each other's claims. Power tries to weasel out of the blame by telling Makima that Denji ordered her to do it, but Makima doesn't care. She just wants the two of them to get results. The "or else" is mostly implied at this point, but it's there.

Fundamentally, these two just don't get along, and Power trying to throw Denji under the bus earlier just makes things work. But then Power explains that she can't get along with humans, and the only other creatures she likes are cats, like her pet Meowy. She says Meowy was captured by a devil and Power was recruited by Makima before she could recover the cat. But if Denji were willing to help get Meowy back, she would be willing to repay him by letting him touch her boobs.

Currently, that's Denji's main goal. Yeah, that's it. Second base. That's pathetic and all, but until recently his main goal was to have enough money to afford jam for his bread, so I'm pretty sure this is going somewhere.

Meanwhile, Makima meets with her superiors, and vaguely reports that she's found two new recruits, one promising and one interesting. Aki disputes her assessment, as he finds Denji neither promising nor interesting, but Makima explains that his devil powers are based on chainsaws. Generally, devils have a power based on the scariness of their theme. There was a tomato devil back in chapter 1, and it probably wasn't all that dangerous. There's no scary mental image of tomatoes. I mean, there was the movie Attack of the Killer Tomatoes, but that was a comedy, and no one ever remembers that.

But chainsaws, well, they made an actual horror movie with that in the title, and everyone remembers Leatherface. Oh, actually, this is the 50th anniversary of the Texas Chainsaw Massacre. See, that's staying power, and that's the kind of power Makima is interested in.

Also, Power, the fiend literally named after power. I have to assume Makima's interested in her as well, for one reason or another.

Back to Denji and Power, she leads him to some spooky barn or something where the Bat Devil is holding her cat hostage. She had a plan on the way over, but then she forgets it as they head for the door, and so she knocks out Denji with a hammer. Power's supposed to be a Blood Devil, so I don't understand the hammer thing. She seems to be able to make them out of thin air, so maybe she's making them out of blood? I dunno.

Power was mostly telling the truth, except she never intended to fight the Bat Devil. She just wanted to lure Denji here so she could feed him to the Bat Devil. In return, the Bat Devil said he would give her back her cat. Why doesn't this guy just hunt down his own victims? Well, one of his arms got lopped off at some point, so he needs human blood to regenerate it, and he probably doesn't want to risk hunting a human while he's injured. Instead, he captured Power's cat and used it as a hostage to force her to do his dirty work. So here we are.

Why did Power get attached to a cat in the first place? Well, she found one in the woods and decided she should fatten it up before eating it, but while she was doing that, she wound up becoming fond for the li'l guy.

But the Bat Demon won't honor his bargain, because even though drinking Denji's blood regenerates his wing, it tastes bad because of Denji's part-devil nature. So he swallows the cage with Meowy in it, and then eats Power too? Okay...

Bat Devil decides to go hunting some tastier victims to cleanse his palate, and now that his wing his restored, he's all set... except he forgot one thing.

Boobs. No wait, I meant chainsaws. No... hold on. "Boobs" was right? In spite of Power's betrayal, Denji still thinks he can save the cat and get the reward she promised him. He grabs onto the Bat Devil and sucks his blood, which I guess heals him up enough to continue this fight. Bat Devil's like "What the hell do you want, anyway," and Denji's like...

So yeah, there's a certain touch to this that I really enjoy. The monsters in this story seem to be a lot more rational than Chainsaw Man, and when he goes apeshit on them, they start to wonder just what the hell they've gotten themselves into.

I've had to hear about Lovecraftian horrors for much of my life, how Cthulhu and his ilk are so impossibly powerful and scary, and if you even looked at them too long you'd go mad from the dread or whatever. I'm a bigger fan of Robert E. Howard stories, where Conan will run into some eldritch horror and just attack it like he would a wolf or a bear. It's like the man said: If it bleeds, we can kill it.

On the other hand, I like the notion of a creature so alien and with motives so incomprehensible that it cannot be perceived by the rational mind. That's a fun idea, but it's wasted on Yog-Sothoth. No, it's a lot more fun when the hero is the one who's beyond understanding, and the monsters he slays are left utterly baffled.

Bat Devil's like "What the fuck, dude? I'm just a despicable creature trying to drink blood to sustain my unholy existence. Why won't you leave me alone?"

And Denji's just like "booOoOoooObS" and there's no answer for that. Bat Devil can't give him boobs, he can't take another hostage. If he kills Power, Denji would just kill Bat Devil anyway for revenge. There's no way out of this because Denji's motives make no fucking sense. To him anyway. Boobs are pretty awesome.

Also, Denji's not exactly thinking straight. Bat Devil tries to throw a car at him as a distraction, but Denji catches it and chucks it back at him. I'm pretty sure he knows better, but he's too upset to care, and that must surely send a chill down Bat Devil's spine. I dig this sort of thing.

So Denji finally disembowels the Bat Devil and rescues Power and Meowy. She's like "What could possibly have made you go so far to rescue me after I betrayed you?" And he just points at her chest. And since Meowy survived, Power says she's hold up her end of the deal.

Well, except this thing suddenly showed up and cut off one of Denji's arms. Good luck touching boobs now, idiot.

This is a Leech Devil, and she says Bat Devil was her boyfriend. I don't know how she happened to be in the area when this fight happened, or how she snuck up on these two, so I'm going to assume that she was inside the Bat Devil's rectum the whole time. It's some freaky-deaky sex act, just get all crammed up inside your partner's rectum. Anyway, Denji tries to transform again, but he's worn out, and he only changes part way. The Leech Devil offers to let him go, but she intends to kill Power and the cat, so Denji's like "Let's dance, bitch."

Denji gets a few hits in, but he can't last long, and just as the Leech Devil is about to eat him...

Aki shows up and does the Too-Sweet gesture. Has he joined Bullet Club? Probably, because Bullet Club sucks these days and so does Aki. Well, actually, this is how he summons his demon familiar or whatever it is. It eats the leech devil and saves Denji.

Later, Denji's arm grows back when he gets a blood transfusion, and Aki explains to him that he's not friends with this Fox Devil thing. He borrows its power in exchange for feeding it parts of his body. It's a contract, similar to the contract Denji and Pochita made in chapter 1.

Aki loathes devils, and resents Denji for not hating them just as much, and for having shallow motives for being a devil hunter, but he believes he can accept this if Denji agrees to follow his orders. Also, Aki covers up all the civilians Denji put in harm's way during that battle.

Denji agrees, and one of the other Devil Hunters asks Aki if this is wise. He seems to be going to great lengths to protect Denji and Power, and if they screw up, it'll be his ass. But Aki insists that he's simply using Power and Denji to achieve their primary goal: hunting devils. He has no intention of befriending either of them.

But he does have to live with them, because Makima orders them to live with Aki. Aki asks why and she says she trusts Aki more than anyone, and he accepts this pretty readily.

Later, Power finally gives Denji his payment for saving Meowy. She agrees to give him three squeezes.

On the first one, Denji winds up causing her breast pads to fall out. I'm not against her wearing the things, but I feel like that first squeeze shouldn't count if all he got was padding. He could buy one of those himself and go to town if that's all he was after.

Two and three go pretty uneventfully, and Power seems pretty pleased with the transaction. She has her cat, so she has no reason to continue hunting devils, but she can't escape Makima, so she'll just carry on and help Denji from here on out. Well that's nice.

But for Denji, the whole thing seems kind of anticlimactic... because... it was.

Later, while Makima walks him through paperwork, Denji confides in her that he achieved a dream he'd had for a while, only to discover the fulfillment of the dream felt empty. Like the Vulcan once said: "[H]aving is not so pleasing a thing as wanting. It is not logical, but it is often true."

The hollow feeling of touching Power's boobs isn't such a bad thing in itself, but Denji is now worried that this will be how it goes every time. What if every dream he chases turns out like this?

He finally admits to Makima that this is about touching boobs, and she explains that physical intimacy kind of depends on... well, intimacy. You have to get to know your partner, at least physically, and take your time, or otherwise there's no enjoyment.

I'm not sure if Makima knows Denji touched Power's boobs, or how that went down, but it's probably not hard to guess that it was a cold, sterile experience. Power's not even human, so it's unclear if she even cared about doing it. And she just sat on a toilet and let him do his thing. Come to think of it, that's probably why the pads were in that scene. I said that first squeeze shouldn't count, but the second and third kind of don't count either, because Denji didn't enjoy the flesh any more than the padding.

By contrast, this panel of Makima putting Denji's hand on her ear is a lot more thrilling. It's pretty dumb on paper, and it's kind of creepy when it's Makima doing it, but she also makes it seem like a truly romantic gesture. I wish some lady would let me fondle her left ear.

So when all of that is set up, Makima then puts his hand on her boob, and that actually excites Denji, because she built up to it. I'm pretty sure this isn't appropriate for one reason or another, but I'm not here to consider the morality of Makima's actions in this scene. Her observation on the nature of intimacy, is spot on, even if she really shouldn't be demonstrating it like this in the workplace.

And after all of this, Makima asks Denji for a favor: defeat the Gun Devil. It's a really powerful devil that's worth a lot of money or something, and Makima thinks Denji can take him. All she needs is to get him properly motivated, which is probably what this scene was all about.

And if he succeeds, Makima offers to grant him any one wish. I kind of don't believe they can do Third Base in a manga like this. Maybe he'll wish for his own desk instead.