#muns writing

[not0a0mundane]

Current mood

[bluebloodbabe]

The lights flicker a dim before completely cutting off, bathing Rosary in darkness. The light from her laptop screen illuminates her expression. Where anyone around to see her, they could make our her perturbed expression but little else.

She messages the resident bodyguard. He is there in seconds.

'Stay close. This could be a set-up.'

She doesn't need to be told twice. She shadows him as they descend down into the basement, every child room of imagined horrors. Even Rosary's eyes which long since abandoned the innocence of youth twist the shadows in het periphery into demons that melt into nothingness when she turns to face them.

Her hand finds purchase around Ash's bicep, the touch bringing her some comfort as they brave the dark expanse between the stairs and the breaker box. She puts her blind faith in her guide as he uses supernatural senses to grant him perfect dark vision. Rosary is left in torment to the oppressive black. Even Ash us lost to her, but she feels his arm in her hand. Her only tether in this perfect darkness.

Blind as she is, she senses more than sees the intruder stepping out of the shadows behind them. She expects the touch, even so her reactions come too little too late. Her scream stalled by choking terror as ice-cold fingers drag her away from her saviour. Ash reaches for her, but only touches air.

She goes from black to darker than black, a place she first became acquainted with in her mortal life. Absolutely impenetrable darkness that has an oppressive aura to it that drains the strength from her. Cold she hasn't felt since her heart beat settles on her shoulders like a shawl.

Julian steps into her vision. She sees him with perfect vision. He hasn't changed a bit, his handsome visage ruined by the smug smirk on his face, and the black heart she knows rests beneath his $3000 suit. He could dress it up in all the beauty money could buy, but nothing could disguise the ugliness of his heart.

He says nothing, observing her with a look of amusement. Whatever anger she should feel is smothered by another emotion: terror.

'Long time no see,' he eventually speaks, sounding very pleased with himself. 'We do have some catching up to do, don't we.'

Rosary, already on her knees falls forward onto her hands as exhaustion crashes over her, almost as powerful as the fatigue accompanied by the approaching sun.

'My apologies. I forgot you can't survive in her. Let us find you more suitable accommodations, hm?' He offers a hand.

Rosary wants to smack it away with a belligerent cry. But her desires and actions differ. She silently accepts his hand, and allows him to ferry her out of the shadows into a resplendent bit macabre mansion. After all, what other choice does she have?

'I think you'll like it here. Or I hope you will. You'll never leave this place.

[thedemonicpunks]

Does kissing him rejuvenate your soul?

The way the sun turns his face into a halo; eclipsing his features.

Do you forget to breathe when he steals it from you? Trembling lips and knees, electric fingertips along your flesh.

Is he worth the nicks and tears at your hourglass? That vague threat of breaking the fragile container of your eternity?

Death would be kind yet his hands feel kinder. Ice cold to the bone he permeates to your very core. Can you feel the water filling up your lungs? Is that last scream worth wasting the last of your breath?

Plump lips, sharp teeth and nails that dig too deeply into your wrists. Leaving his mark upon you do you relish that mark? Do you flaunt it to your friends to prove that you’re loved?

Golden strands catch the light as the moon kisses his forehead. Blood and sweat kiss your own as you struggle to keep up. Flying was never something you’d been made to do and yet it’s expected to keep him close.

Can you feel the earth falling from under your feet? Does the fear of falling keep you grounded? Rise up and grasp his hand before he pulls it away.

Is this love? Does his kiss rejuvenate your soul? Inch by inch he consumes you. Inch by inch and drop by drop you make excuses to see him again. How much of you is left to give?

What will you do when you can no longer keep up? Knowing he can’t stop to let you grasp him close. What will you do when you see him call your name as you drown in your own sands?

When your body becomes stone will you relish in the knowledge that he’ll see you again? Will his whispers grant you salvation?

Will you take one more kiss or let him go?

[egregriousstaemen]

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

Chapter 41 of Mooktale is up. Brace yourselves.

[the-hunting-hawk]

Breakthrough

//ooc: Short and sweet. I’m so tired so yeah. No editing wooooo. Also so understimulated I had to do something and this was planned anyway sooooooooooooooooooo..... yup! also I’m just procrasinating all my other projections lmfao including my big one... anyway!

-

Victor took off his sunglasses briefly, rubbing at his eyes with his right hand and scribbling down some more combinations down onto a notebook with the other. He tapped his pen idly as he conjured up more combinations to use - to try.

He reviewed every single word he’d tried - half of them typed onto his phone and half of them written by hand. God, he was so useless sitting here while both his dad and Bartholomew actually did something useful. He was gonna be useless in trying to get her back and he knew it…

Though he supposed he could bring in feathery or furry enforcements to help - that wasn’t something his dad could do….. Just for distractions and a smoke screen…. Though if the stalker had been watching them they might know there was Gangrel after them and -

Ellie pecked at his shoulder, enough to hurt but not do any actual damage.

‘Bad,’ She said - through his passive use of Feral Whispers. Simple but elegant communication. It would probably be funny to anyone who could hear her. She sort of had an accent, but it was hard to say what it was exactly.

She jumped down from his shoulder and got onto his wrist - his bracer than was practically attached to his skin at this point - and sort of paced up and down and spun.

‘Work,’ She said, wings flaring outwards.

He sighed softly, raised his arm up to put her back on his shoulder where she got comfortable as he settled in to keep attempting to break open the password. He put on his sunglasses - the ones he used to conceal the colour of his eyes. They were dark enough to easy the headache that had been steadily building over the nights as he sat at the brightly lit laptop. A setting he would love to turn down - were it only so he could dim the fucking lighting before he was crippled by the headache.

But also because he needed access to Rosary’s trustworthy contacts…

He spent several hours on it - combing through every possible combination he could think of and go over the notes of research on the internet and go through all his combinations.

The hours dragged on - Ellie fluttering around the library and pacing on the chair - on his arm and around the library and across the perch his dad had brought over for her. Victor was basically stock still except his hands and the occasion he would glance down at his phone or his notebook.

The fact his gaze was almost solely focused on a screen probably wasn’t helping the headache. But he didn’t care, with a focus so tight on the computer he only really registered the pain right when he woke up and right before he went to sleep though it was a nagging sensation that he was purposefully ignoring. It would go away when they found Rosary.

A combination just right after hours and hours and days of trying - he watched the laptop accept the password and if he hadn’t been so exhausted he might have made some sort of cry of victory…

He immediately scooped up his phone, texting Bartholomew about his success.

[lapisdragon01]

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

Chapters: 2/2 Fandom: Undertale (Video Game) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: W. D. Gaster/Grillby, W. D. Gaster & Grillby Characters: W. D. Gaster, Grillby (Undertale), Wartime!Gaster, Wartime!Grillby - Character Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Angst and Feels, War, Wartime Fic, Blood and Injury, Aftermath of Torture Summary:

Gaster had disappeared after a rather nasty battle against a group of humans. This terrified Grillby. Gaster was his best friend- his everything. So, he searches for Gaster any time he gets the chance.

The day he finally finds his best friend, he is both relieved and horrified.

In other words, a fic about Grillby finding Gaster after the Skeleton had been tortured for weeks by humans.

[geminisyndrom]

Falling. 

He’s falling, watching the sky and heaven’s gate getting further and further away from him. Long arms reached out, tears forming in his eyes. Heaven had been infiltrated by a demon. Natsuki found out and tried to warn God. Yet he was caught by said demon. They broke his wings and shoved him from Heaven, probably watching him plummet to the earth. Natsuki’s heart was broken. It wasn’t long before he went through a tree, branches breaking underneath him. Cutting up porcelain skin. Whipping out and cutting his face. 

Natsuki hit the ground with a loud thud. Dirt kicked up where he landed, a semi-deep hole forming in the Earth’s soil. Natsuki laid there, vision starting to get blurry. He silently hoped that humans wouldn’t find him. Who know’s what they’d do to a literal angel. They’re already killing the Earth. The home God created for them. He wished for another angel returning home found him. Rescued him. 

Natsuki couldn’t move. His entire body felt like lead. He gazed up at the sky, rain droplets starting to fall and landing on the cracked glasses residing on his face. He took shallow breaths, closing his eyes as more tears fell. 

Someone....

Anyone.....

Help! 

[desiderixm]

prt 2

Oh boy more of spuks shitty writing??? Hell yeah. 

It had been a few months since his first day in the fold, but Lucifer was starting to make plans. He slowly pulled himself off Abaddon, his sore legs and hips barely letting him get a foothold on the carpet. His legs shook as he made his way over to the bathroom to clean up when he heard the bodyguards voice, "You should rest little prince." Lucifer rolled his golden eyes, "I don't have time to rest, neither do you. I have plans to make and I'm going to need you to help me map out everything." He called back closing the door behind him. 

Abaddon was already up and dressed by the time the prince was done and only looked up at him as he entered the room. Lucifer let out a huff and snapped a map onto the table before he leaned over it, "I'm free to challenge the current council member right?" Abaddon tilted his skull. Where was this coming from all of a sudden? Sure he did mention conquering all of reality when they met, but why push it now of all times?

The ram angel approached the table pressing his body against his, "Yes of course little prince, but can you even win is what you should be asking yourself." He mumbled resting his large hands on Lucifer's small frame. The prince tapped his claws on the map impatiently, "What do you mean can I win? I've killed lesser gods before, what makes you think this cretin could even hurt me?" He growled looking back at his companion. "He ended my reign and killed my mate. You're underestimating him my dear. And to underestimate a death angel is a death sentence." Lucifer rolled his eyes, "You can stop treating me like a child. What's their name anyways?" 

The guard sunk his claws into the goat angel's behind causing him to squeak and his face flush, "Don't talk back to me dear." He sternly reminded. He waited for the stuttered 'yes sir'  before releasing him, " Good boy. Now then ...his names Michael. The patron saint of doctors, he's a reaper just like Azrael but not as strong." Abaddon explained picking up a quill and inkwell as he made notes on the map, "His central chambers here, ignore all the other wings, they're mainly servants and advisers quarters." He tapped them with his claw, "Just tell the guards you're there to challenge the council and they'll lead you to him." 

Abaddon knew Lucifer was going to have his ass handed to him, but he knew he wouldn't die. Whether it was true or not, everyone in the fold knew that if you killed Lucifer you'd piss off God and nobody wants to piss off God himself. Lucifer on the other hand was certain he could win, "Thank you love." He turned around and pulled himself up high enough to kiss the ram angel's skull, "I'll be off then." "You're going this second? You need rest, someone could blow on you and you'd fall over right now." The guard huffed, "Don't be reckless…" 

All Lucifer had to do was look at him to tell him he was displeased, "Yes, I'm going right this second. I'm fine and I will be fine. I'll drain one of my servants before I go." "Lucifer, you are-" "You know it's funny I usually like anal, but not when you're being so up the ass about something that's not your decision. I'm not a child or a fragile doll you have to protect." He growled, "So yes I'm going and nothing you can say or do will change my mind, so kindly fuck off and let the literal child of God do what they want." He stormed out slamming the door behind him. Was Abaddon right about needing rest? 

Of course, but Lucifer quickly cornered one of his servants pinning them to the wall as they thrashed and screamed for help. They knew what was coming, of course and their panic only grew as they felt claws entering their chest effortlessly. The screaming soon stopped as the prince wretched their soul from their chest studying it in his hand as he tossed the body to the side, "Not good enough...I'll tell Abaddon we need finer servants." He huffed and swallowed it absorbing everything it contained, memories, emotions, life times all snuffed out in an instant and melded to Lucifer's own patchwork soul. After washing his hands off in the sink he made his way to the gate that separated the first sphere from the council or heaven as some would like to call it.

The guard stopped him as soon as he reached it, "Child of God, Michael did not send for you. State your business." Lucifer smiled elegantly folding his hands below his chest, "I'm here to challenge Michael." The guard stopped. Tilted his head. And then sighed, "Of course your highness, right this way." The prince admired the palace as he was led through it and to think all of this would be his? Well he could hardly wait. Eventually the guards led him to a set of massive doors, "Enter when you're ready, Michael's already been informed of your challenge."

Lucifer shed his jewelry and extra clothing before entering the large empty room. He studied it, the pillars would make a good place to hide if things go south, when suddenly he heard Michael's voice and with that he lost control of his body, "I wasn't expecting you to come challenge me so soon Lucifer." That smooth beak studied him up and down while the angel panicked, unable to move much less defend himself his gaze was fixed on the death angel as he approached holding up his arm. The angels heart sunk as he saw it was his own name written in his skin, "But do tell me prince what are you? I can see your soul. The seams are too large to hold together the quilt you've made."

He felt his hold relax enough to let him talk, "Like I'd tell you. Oh and the name thing? It would be intimidating if anyone could actually fucking read your hand writi-" he felt the tip of a blade pierce his pale skin and the crushing hold Michael had over his soul return, "Don't disrespect me half breed. You came into my home and challenged me when you were very much ill prepared. I've seen children fight better than you." He plunged the blade through his chest and pulled it out letting Lucifer fall to the floor, "Guard, take him back home. How disappointing the oh so mighty child of God can't even fight." The death angels words started to muddle together as his vision faded and he slowly drifted into unconsciousness.

The angel woke up a few days later laying in bed a large bandage covering his chest and an extreme pain coursing through him. He panted touching his wound and wincing before Abaddon slowly pushed him back down, "You need rest little prince." "...How long was I out?" "Two days, but I expected that when Azrael told me what the damage was. He cut free one of your souls, it tried to claw its way out of your wound. You're fine now. Just rest please…" Lucifer sat up again gripping his blankets, "Why didn't you tell me he could snare souls?" "All death angels can snare souls, you… didn't know?" "You absolute fucking whore of course not." Lucifer immediately sat up and swung his hooves off the bed only to feel Abaddon pull him back into it, "Let me go! I have someone I need to visit you cu-"

Azrael slowly opened the door holding a bowl of water, bandages, and a rag, "I'm sorry, am I interrupting something?" He stopped in his tracks tilting his head. Abaddon let out a long sigh, "No, you're fine reaper." Lucifer sat there staring, "Tell Abaddon I'm okay to go and don't need rest." Azrael opened his mouth to speak before he was interrupted by the ram angel, "Lucifer I'm not going to let you go on a suicide mission, you need to rest and train before you even attempt to fight Michael again." His voice was more like a father disciplining his child than a worried lover, Lucifer almost found it cute, "I'm not going to go back there. I'm going back to Dealer. It's not that hard to understand. I'm free to go right Azrael?" The death angel sighed, "I suppose so. Let me change your bandages first, I'd hate for you to get an infection."

Abaddon glared at the reaper, "You're letting him go in this condition?" The death angel sighed cutting away the bandages, "Abaddon. You're worried, I know, but it's better if he returns home." His voice was soft, albeit a bit slow, "I can treat him better there and his body is more in touch with the magic there. Please just trust me." He removed the bandages looking at the way the blackened flesh dripped with Lucifer's volcanic blood. He knew Lucifer wasn't a normal angel...but this...this was something he didn't know how to treat. He cleaned the wound wiping away what blood he could, "...He's burned through the stitches again." He mumbled before sighing. No amount of normal stitching would keep this closed, so he simply bandaged him back up and helped Lucifer out of bed.

"We'll be back as soon as possible Abaddon." Azrael hummed. Lucifer only glared. He needed to learn how to fight and God was the best person who could.