#mun writing

[lovingthewildlife]

Yautja x Werewolf reader part two.

Part one is here as I resist the urge to make an Electric Boogaloo joke.

The night had veered from unusual to strange and then swiftly into a shift of highly strung emotions within the pace of half an hour. The ooman he had a habit of watching had turned the tables on him. How long had she known that he was watching her? How much of what he had seen was an act to throw him off?

He could feel hot breath on his heels as he ran and his eyes widened as he found himself having to rely on what he could recall of the park as he'd come in earlier. The light was fading to nothing and his biomask provided a heat signature of creatures in the area but not a topographical mapping. So he relied on his wits and reflexes as he ran and leapt over roots. Cursing when his ooman herded him deeper into the forest from her position chasing him at ground level.

He could easily turn around and fight her, but then what would happen? His days and nights had been filled with her before this. He did his bare minimum in hunting when he wasn't bound up in his thoughts of her. He had been treading the line of becoming a Bad Blood, so was this the goddess laughing at him for coming so close? Was this a test?

He didn't want that. As much as he should relish a chance to challenge himself, he didn't want his hunt to be focused on her. He wanted his heart to beat for her in a new way.

And the fact that she was chasing him now, sharp fangs barely getting close enough to nick his heels had his head spinning. His heart reeling even as he wasn’t given a moment to consider what would happen next. She was driving him before her, forcing them both to act on instinct. He didn’t think that any of the oomans on earth could be like this and he wanted to get himself to a vantage point and trap her so he could question her. He needed to catch his breath, steady himself as he ran and start to honesty pay attention.

Because really, he had been behaving like a juvenile almost the entire time he had been preying on her in the way he did. He had come close to the line of being a bad blood and the only thing that saved him was the fact that he didn’t draw blood at any point. He had let his lust lead him and didn’t consider the fact that oomans could be dangerous simply because he hadn’t witnessed her behaving aggressively at any point.

He felt hot breath against his thigh and sped up, snarling as he move around a tree and jumped to the side in an effort to get better distance while getting higher into the trees. Sharp claws dug into the tree that he landed on and when they raked downward it shook the trunk so hard that it nearly dislodged him. His mandibles clenched down as he leapt through the trees, aware that there was a bit of rustling coming from the sides now and he dared a look down to see what had happened.

For a split second he had worried that some human had come upon their chase and they would interrupt the glory of the run. But as his eyes adjusted to the shapes that were coming in from the sides, his heart squeezed when he saw that they were more that were shaped like his ooman. Canine and too large to be feral dogs, they fell into line alongside his ooman and made him pause as he watched the subtle body language before one of them leapt on the trunk of the tree he was up in, snarling at him.

It wasn’t just his ooman that could see him up here, it was the others with her that shared this canine form. One was dark as night and when he took his eyes off her, he swore that she disappeared. The other was a dark brown, while his ooman had a furred form that was a dark grey. All adaptable to the environment, able to blend with the scenery or even just with the night itself.

Tilting his head curiously, he looked at them before pushing off from the branch and continuing onwards, this time making sure that he was heading back into the woods. He didn’t know the area that well, but all he had to do was take a brief look at the pack that had formed to chase him and he saw the way that they were attempting to get him to go. Subtly, he followed their lead, slowly going to lower branches and thrilling in the fact that their howls and barks got louder and faster the closer they got to him. A time or two they leapt up as he jumped and he just barely managed to be missed being bitten. Or were they just taunting him with how close they could get?

He wanted to know. He didn’t want to fight, but he wanted to know how they hunted and how they fought. Jumping down from the lowest branch, he hit the ground and rolled with the momentum. There was a skid of paws to his left and right and a soft flurry of leaves around them but the canine oomans were not coming close enough even though he gave a brief pause.

Emboldened, he turned around and braced himself. His transformed ooman was still racing towards him and he lifted his chin when he saw that she had no intention of stopping. He could practically feel the fangs at his throat, but the two at his side were only barking, as if cheering him or her onward. He barely had time to consider that before the large paws were slamming into his chest, making him hit the ground.

The wind knocked out of him, he opened his eyes to see his ooman sitting on him. She had a feral look on her face. Eyes a dark gold and teeth more like fangs than not. Her hair wild and long, shaggy in a way that almost hid the fact that her ears were pointed now. Her hands weren’t quite human, the fingers longer and something more animalistic in them. Her nails long and black, looking more like claws than anything. And her body had more muscle than he remembered ever seeing on her when he peeked through her window. Her mass kept him pinned and his cock twitched as she moved her weight so her hands were at his shoulders now, making sure he couldn’t get up without a fight.

Sharp teeth snapped at him and he let his mandibles spread wide, did his best to angle his head to show his throat to her. She sneak attacked him, more or less. He would yield for the night.

[yunalai]

MULTIPLE TWs for child harm, gun violence, descriptive violence, gore, murder, blood, emetophobia

Ixtal wasn’t alone.

It was not alone, not ever alone.

Her entire life was made up of lies .

The Nasiana, the World Beyond, the Dead Realm. It was just as alive as any of them were.

Qiyana ran until her feet ached and her arms bled from the pricks of thorned plants and the odd claw in the dark. She didn’t know in which directions she had turned ever since she left the palace, only that she was trying to gain distance between her heart and the celebration of lies.

The youngest Yun Tal. How is a child supposed to handle her whole reality crumbling in front of her? To realize that her fantasies about exploring the other realms, to find remnants of the dead world, that it was all for naught?

Ixtal wasn’t alone, or unique, or the last survivor.

It simply hid cowardly from anything that could bring it harm.

How could her ancestors have allowed this? They were supposed to be a powerful nation, and yet they thrived in knowing that nobody else knew of their existence?

They should be at the top of the food chain, shepherding the magic that ran free in the world around them. Qiyana recalled the beast the Vidalion had shown her, a wild winged thing clawing toward the skies with a roar that shook her whole core, and it had felt wrong. To not experience it face to face, to not know how the threads of that magic felt in her hands.

Wheezing and heaving, her sprint died into a shaky walk. The humidity of the jungle made her more self-aware of the sweat coating her skin and how gross it felt, all that hot water singing in her ears, attracting predators toward her, ringing a dinner bell that she had forgotten about. Especially so late.

Finally quiet, she searched the canopies for an answer. They were so dense and stood so tall that her eyes could only find the odd star here and there, and light was a privilege underneath their trunks and leaves. She was used to the dark, able to see more clearly in it faster than most due to her scavenges, but that night was a particularly vicious shade of void. She wondered if the jungle was changing to mimic the state of her heart. If that was why she did not recognize these barks and plants and stones.

Ixtal would not have let her get lost. She was a daughter of Ixaocan and one of the few who had the privilege to hear Her voice. It was the cloudiness of her heart and head, the anger and confusion, that had made her run without destiny. Qiyana took a deep breath and sought out the voice that lulled her at night, something so familiar and yet so ethereally strange. It did not take long to reply to her at the corners of her mind, guiding her through the suffocating greenery. She did not need her eyes. All she needed were the threads traced on the back of her eyelids and the echo dancing from tree to tree.

A little calmer, she reached the edge of a familiar lake. It was a miracle that nothing had smelled her sweat and blood yet. Perhaps, the creatures of Ixtal knew that she was not an easy meal. Perhaps their hunger had already been sated, she thought as she saw hints of blood in the water on the other side of the lake. A quick splash cleaned her wounds and face and stained the surface further. She knew the way home from there.

Yet, her curiosity was tugged and prickled at. Qiyana rose her eyes toward the cloud of crimson at the far edge of the water and searched through the nightly symphony of Ixtal, through the chirps and hisses and buzzings, to find whimpering.

Lured in, the princess rose from her kneeling position to circle the water, past a muddy bank and into a denser line of trees and vines. Through them, she met a strange sight.

A man wearing odd garments, his lips bloody from teeth biting into them in a useless attempt to quiet himself, and hands desperately tying torn fabric around his thigh. Her gaze lowered toward the trail of blood and noticed the stranger’s mangled leg, flesh and bone crushed into a gory mess it could never be recovered from, twisted beyond recognition by either teeth or vine. Red and pink and beige made for a gnarly picture, turning her stomach around and forcing her to reel back, only for the mud that coated her path to trip her and drop her in front of the man clinging to his useless leg.

Both jolted. Before Qiyana could attempt to get up or say anything, the man cursed in a language she did not understand and let go of his to-be stump, his hands shaking in a blur that left her without reaction before they grasped and lifted a barrel toward her.

She only had the chance to realize she had never seen a weapon like that before a burning pain and a wet sensation spread through her shoulder. Her ears were ringing, muffling the songs that she felt naked without. The wail that left her was distant, as if someone else was screaming her hurt for her, making the jungle ache in tandem with her. It was still hers, as the scratching of her throat told her.

The man paused, then dropped the strange thing. Maybe he had realized he had shot a child. Maybe his ugly sounds were attempts to apologize in a language that was foreign and dirty. He reached out, unable to drag himself closer than a few inches before the hand not clutching her wound found a heavy rock under her palm.

Her fingers grasped onto the rock like it was a lifeline, paying no mind to the rough edges cutting into her skin, and she pulled it behind her before swinging forth. The hit connected, giving way to a disgusting crunch of flesh and bone.

With her hearing clearing up, she was able to hear the man cry out and spit up broken teeth and bile, his hands raised toward her in a plea for mercy. A plea she couldn’t understand.

A plea she paid no mind to.

Her pain spurred her and the rock rose again, coming down onto skull with multiple ferocious hits, each quieter than the last as more of the bone came apart. His skull gave in at the same time his last howling breath came out, but Qiyana did not stop as she reached brain and it leaked down his neck and face, not even as it spilled onto her and his cranium was so caved in that teeth and scalp mixed together in a pulpy soup. Only when there was nothing left to crush did her hand grow still and her anger simmer down.

The stone dropped from her fingers at the same time Qiyana turned her eyes upon the man’s corpse, so destroyed, so disfigured, one could as well call it headless.

A mixture of feelings took over her body.

Joy.

Relief.

Despair.

Qiyana could not turn toward the lake in time. Vomit burned past her throat and spilled from her mouth, watery and as disgusting as the cranial fluid she had spilled. More kept coming, making her retch until her stomach was empty and there was nothing more to throw out. Reeking of blood and puke, her small body shook heavily as she dragged herself away from the man, always waiting for him to twitch and grasp her with his still intact hands. He did not move. And as growls and steps came to be attracted by the smell of the dead, Qiyana once again ran.

The trip back became a distant memory she grew unable to recall. Something should have attacked her in the dark, she should have gotten lost, or at least made to spend the night outside the safety of the palace. But she didn’t. The jungle, while guiding predators to the outsiders, kept her from harm. At least, that is what Qiyana chose to believe. Because thinking about that night only brought the taste of bitterness and the smell of carnage to her. Because it painted the picture of that mangled corpse dragging itself toward her in accusation.

What is there to accuse her of?

On her first night as Yun Tal, Qiyana Yunalai protected her land. Not by hiding it, but by taking action.

If blood was to be spilled to announce to the world the grandiosity of Ixaocan, to rip it from the shadow it hides in, so be it.

She will spill it as many times as necessary.

[needletongues]

bored so i wrote a thing

    It’s cold in your apartment, but not unbearably so. Your hands are spotted faintly purple and yellow, stiff at the edges, but you note it all with a certain detachment. The old dark floorboards creak under your weight on your way from the bedroom to the kitchen, and even though you expect the cold shock of the tile, it still almost draws a gasp out of you when you step on it. You start to boil a kettle of water on the stove, and go to freshen up after a night of heavy, dreamless sleep. It’s left you sore in several places, and you try to knead out the pain, but you know it won’t leave for a while, maybe even a day or two. The kettle screeches for you just as you replace your toothbrush on its stand. It’s a horrible sound, one of those that grates on you even when you know it’s coming, but you’re willing to endure it for your morning tea. The mug you choose is well-loved, one your husband bought as a joke at some rest stop on a meteor a few galaxies over years ago. He keeps forgetting to take it back. (You’re unaware that he has not, in fact, been forgetting, but that he bought it for you and was just too embarrassed to say so at the time. He’s changed so much since then. You feel the same as ever.)

    While waiting for your tea to steep, you set out food for your familiar. His living space is more of a glorified functional dollhouse than it is a cage, but you’ve never felt right keeping him locked up. Besides, Nietzche is well behaved and is a better roommate than plenty of humans could ever hope to be. He’s been awake for a while now, and runs out to eat his breakfast. You give him a little scratch on the head.

    Weak sunlight skims the edge of the clouds, and the gray morning starts to break. Technically, today is your day off, but still you check all your usual news sources just in case. Maybe you’ll be able to find your next big project.

    You don’t, and it seems your colleagues have everything handled, so you find yourself faced with the prospect of a day doing whatever you like. You can hear Nietzche rustling in his bedding, the cars on the street far below, the hum of the lights above your head. You take a drink. Breakfast, you decide, should be your first order of business, so you pour yourself the same cereal you always have and it’s gone before you know it. Tea, cereal, medication… What now?

    It’s times like these where the juxtaposition of your life against itself annoys you. Never in a million years would you give up your magic, or your ties to other worlds, but it can make things difficult in such mundane ways back at home. After your honeymoon with Adrik, you came back here, despite his offers to set you up on any other planet. Earth is what you know. Earth is what you can do on your own. When he left to visit another partner, you settled into your work as a journalist. Your routine. Don’t worry about me, you had reassured him, I’ll be fine here! I’m sure I’ll make plenty of friends, whether I want to or not! It had been only partially a joke at the time, but now you’re beginning to see a problem you hadn’t anticipated.

    Your home planet feels so small after traveling to places lightyears away. Connecting with others has always proved difficult for you, but now it’s even worse. How did you ever expect to feel truly close to someone while hiding so much of yourself? You had done it before, in different ways. Why did you think it would be any better with one more?

    So, you walk to the bookstore alone. A few titles stand out to you, so you buy them, but when you sit on a bench in the park a block over and try to read them, you can’t focus enough to get more than a few pages into a single one. And it’s only nine in the morning. Sinking into your coat, you decide to spend a while just people-watching. There are enough to choose from, hurrying along the paths in the park and the sidewalks beyond. Most of them move with a purpose, only out because they have somewhere to be. When the first snow of the year starts to fall, you decide it’s time to go home. These silent crystals gather in your flyaway hairs, your eyelashes, your shoulders, the rims of your glasses, and they all melt as soon as you’re inside. You shower, and then fill your bathtub with hot water, burn some incense, sink in. The way it makes you feel lighter bothers you. The whole day is both heavy and light at once, crushing in its quiet but at the same time giving you nothing to brace against. Eventually you just decide to sleep until it’s over, and you can go back to work.

[ask-blinkous-galadrigal]

Blinky let out what might have been his 20th sigh, he couldn’t focus on his books or research. He knew what was wrong with him but he didn’t want to let it affect his work or let others see. He sighed again and restarted the page he was reading. 

He head Aarrrgh move around but thought he was shifting in his sleep until warm stone pressed against his back and a head rested on the top of his. “What wrong?” came Aarrrgh’s sleepy voice. “Nothing dearest friend.” Blinky lied, he heard Aarrrgh snort “lier.”

Blinky started to speak to rebuttal the truth but Aarrrgh was quicker to speak up. “Been sighing and reading same page all day.” Blinky looked down and Aarrrgh hugged him. “Like Blinky say to Aarrrgh “it okay to have bad day, everyone need break sometime.’.”

Blinky chuckles “using my own words against me.” “Yep, so Blinky not hypo-crit.” Aarrrgh teases, this makes Blinky laugh. “For a troll of few words, you always know what to say.” Blinky can feel Aarrrgh’s nose press against the top of his head, “Blinky taught Aarrrgh. Blinky taught Aarrrgh lot, more than Aarrrgh ever thank Blinky for.”

Blinky felt his core warm “Aarrrgh..” he started then squeaked a little as Aarrrgh lifted him up from his chair. “Naptime!” Aarrrgh said cheerfully and carried him over to Aarrrgh’s nap spot. “Aarrrgh, i have many things to do.” “Blinky take break to nap, feel better when wake.” Aarrrgh says as he cuddles Blinky like a teddy bear.

Blinky sighs, knowing he’s not going to get out of this hold easily. “Okay, fine, but only 30 minutes.” he agrees “but after that I need to get back to work.” Aarrrgh nods “if say so.” And Blinky slowly drifts off as Aarrrgh rubs his back.

[seven-septic-sins-arg]

Time ticks back, back, back. Back to before the doors locked. Before an angel found her love again. To before the Sins got lonely.

It would seem, this is a reset. A fresh start, another chance to do things right. But will you take it? 

[omalahsocs]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Trollhunters - Daniel Kraus & Guillermo del Toro, Darkest Dungeon (Video Game) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Characters: Barbara Lake, Walter Strickler | Stricklander, Otto Scaarbach, Jim Lake Jr. (Tales of Arcadia) Summary:

Lady Barbara Dulac has inherited a great deal from an old relative, and it's a good chance for her and her son to begin anew. What she doesn't realize is that the gift that's being given might actually be a curse.

[askthejoycreator]

KA had dealt with most of the monsters in the fortress by killing them with their sword she got from a chest. As Kind Anon walked around the corner and into a room with a chest, KA felt a sharp pain in her left arm and fell to the ground. She turns to head to see that most of her arm was gone, leaving a bloodied stub and a ton of pain in it’s wake. Her breath quicken and KA looks up to the mysterious figure covered by shadows as the figure smiles widely. The figure uses the same sword that they used on KA’s now stubbed arm and stabs them directly into the chest which causes Kind Anon to scream.

The scream that caused Kind Anon to wake up from the nightmare as sweat drips from KA’s face and she looked at her stub which isn’t covered with blood at all. She sighs in relief and picks up their glasses plus their robotic arm from the nightstand before getting up and heads to their bathroom to calm down from that nightmare.

(Kind Anon can enter games if she has it on her computer and her body can suffer in pain in the game plus loose something like an arm which happens to her. She tries to hide her pain and trauma from others plus she sacrifices herself to save others from death.)

[celegiri-celesgiri]

Stalker and Prey, chapter 8

Fandom: Dangan Ronpa (duh) Pairing: Kyouko Kirigiri x Celestia Ludenberg - Celegiri Rating: T Summary: Kyouko’s assignment was to trail her. However, with her suspicions confirmed, Kyouko now has to juggle her job, her school life and her new relationship with one Celestia Ludenberg, Gambling Princess of Kibougamine. At least her friends have stopped asking about her hickies. Additional: Supernatural creatures  Notes: Sorry for such a long wait everyone (I don’t even remember how long it’s been). However, as a special Valentine’s treat, I figured I would post the next chapter and announce the fic’s return!

Kyouko groaned as she walked through the hall. Instead of heading out to eat her lunch with the others, she instead opted to wander the school. She refused to be bombarded with questions during the only time during the day that she got to relax. No, it was better this way. She would eat her lunch somewhere more private.

As she happened upon one of the empty classrooms, Kyouko thought about what her classmates must have been asking Celes at that moment. Likely grilling her on her relationship with me, the detective thought with a snort. She sat at a vacant desk and opened her lunchbox. They can be so persistent. I almost feel sorry for her.

Kyouko ate her lunch in silence, listening to students occasionally walk passed the room. She didn’t mind this, but she tended to feel more at ease eating with others around. Having all of the background noise made it easier to ignore her paranoia. With nothing but silence, she had nothing to distract her from all of the different intrusive thoughts plaguing her mind.

With a sigh, Kyouko finished her lunch quickly and made her way back to the classroom. She would have gone out to the eating area, but her friends had another ten minutes before they needed to return and that was ten more minutes of questions. Hard pass.

“Well, this certainly won’t do.”

Kyouko spun around at the voice in the doorway. She blinked in mild surprise, watching Celes stroll in and shut the door behind her. “Celestia,” she murmured. “Aren’t you supposed to be at lunch with the others?”

Celes hummed as she made her way closer to Kyouko’s desk. Her fingertips scratched along some of the desktops, her eyes not lifting from her hand. “I was under the impression, Kyouko, that you were to be my meal as I see fit.” She stopped in front of Kyouko’s desk and slowly lifted her eyes. They were a deeper red than usual. “However, color me surprised when, not only do I arrive outside ready to eat, but I am left waiting for my food to arrive. How rude.”

Oh dear, Kyouko thought. “In all fairness, Celestia, feeding you out in the open would likely blow your cover-.”

“Something you could have told me before lunch, Kyouko,” Celes interrupted. “You made me wait for my favorite treat. How will you repay me?”

Violet eyes rolled ever so slightly before Kyouko stood from her desk. Unbuttoning the top few buttons on her shirt, she loosened her tie and presented her neck to the thirsty vampire. “The only way I am able. Care to eat?”

Celes’ eyes darkened further and her lips stretched into a pleased smile, her fangs just barely poking over her bottom lip. She stepped around the desk between them and hooked a finger in Kyouko’s loosened tie. Bringing the detective closer, Celes purred, “I would love to.”

With those words, she leaned forward and sank her teeth into Kyouko’s neck, greedily drinking up the blood that flowed from the wound. The sweet taste on her tongue calmed her anger considerably. She hadn’t truly been mad at Kyouko, but the thought that the detective might be hiding from her put her on edge. Now that she could feel Kyouko’s blood trickling down her throat, she felt her worries melt away.

Kyouko barely even cringed when Celes’ fangs pierce her skin. In fact, a small bit of warmth ignited in her stomach. She knew this was potentially dangerous if not properly managed, but she couldn’t find it in her to care at present. The immediate danger had passed as soon as Celes’ lips touched her skin. The thought caused a very slight shudder through Kyouko, but she quelled it and idly played with one of Celes’ drills.

A throat cleared at the door and Kyouko looked over in confusion. One of the upperclassmen, Sonia Nevermind, stood in the doorway, politely avoiding looking directly at them. “I was wondering if I could borrow Miss Celes for a moment?”

A soft growl emanated from where Celes still drank, but this did not deter Sonia. “Don’t be like that, Miss Celes. I promise it will only be a moment. I have a… private matter I wish to discuss. You can return to your… activities once we’re finished.”

Celes pulled back from Kyouko’s throat with a reluctant sigh. She licked over the wounds she’d created and straightened up. Kyouko nodded to her and buttoned her shirt back up, fixing her jacket and tie. Celes turned to Sonia and followed the upperclassman out of the room.

Before Kyouko could dwell on what one of their upperclassmen would want with Celes, the bell signaling the end of lunch rang and her classmates filed in. Aoi and Sayaka practically gravitated toward Kyouko, their eyes shining with questions. Kyouko knew it would be a few moments before the teacher came in. With no escape, she resigned herself to her fate.

Meanwhile, upstairs, Sonia stepped into an empty classroom and motioned for Celes to follow. Personally, the Lolita would rather return downstairs and finish her meal, but if the Ultimate Princess wanted a word with her, even she couldn’t refuse. Sometimes, I envy her talent, Celes thought. Not many can resist it.

“What did you need to speak with me about?” she inquired, checking her nails nonchalantly.

Sonia leaned against a desk and smiled. “Nothing much,” she responded. “I simply heard you were joining the school and wished to make sure you were settling in alright.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Celes asked with her usual smile.

“No particular reason,” Sonia shrugged. “We simply haven’t seen one another in a few decades. I had no way of knowing how you had changed in that time, if you have.” Her eyes narrow just slightly. “Are you settling in well?”

Celes sighed and dropped her mask a little. “Yes, I am fine. It is only my first day, Sonia. Give me some credit; I haven’t even burned the school down this time.”

“Yet,” Sonia giggled. “However, I will give you the benefit of the doubt for now.” She straightens up with a smile in place. “That girl down there, was she one of your new marks? She seemed familiar with the process.”

“Kyouko?” Celes glanced to the door. “I suppose you could call her that. We’ve struck up a deal of sorts with one another. I’m simply keeping her around until I grow bored of her.”

“You always were like that,” Sonia laughed. “One of these days, one of your marks will surprise you.” She moved toward the door and called, “You should get to class. Don’t want to miss the rest of your first day.” With that, she strode out the door, as elegant as ever.

Celes smiled after her. As jealous of her talent she might be, Celes really did like Sonia. She was always welcoming whenever Celes traveled. Lifting a finger to her lips, Celes brushed away a stray drop of Kyouko’s blood, licking it from her finger. The sweet lavender taste ignited on her tongue and she couldn’t help the giddy grin that momentarily spread across her lips.

One of my marks might surprise me, huh? she thought. Yes… they just might…