#prophet wip

[tracle0]

Hi I promise I do still write!!! Prophet story for you, introducing - the Hero(TM)!!!

[roostercrowned]

right arm is under a Curse where it can only produce trash right now, but left-handed Fat Suffices scene? ok???

[shripscapi]

the frogeaters 🌿

[sleepless-in-starbucks]

(guy who still has studying and a writing final to do voice) finally. i can write fanfiction again

[knizuu]

Prophet AU fans im coming back IM GOING HOME TO PROPHET AU GUYS-

[shadowhaert]

once i took your medication to know what it’s like

and now i have to act like i can’t read your mind

[thedeafprophet]

(wip) Maymie sketch because two different people sent me this pose so i had to do it lmao

[officialpropheticnightmares]

OWNER - WIP 2 (Lyrical Version)

It's coming along, to say the least!

Suffocation, Hesitation Get down on your knees in my basement

Break your legs for the sweet sensation Take advantage of your oral fixation

(Rest of the lyrics in the desc on the link)

[avoicebehindthestars]

(I don't normally share WIPs because I'm notoriously afraid of the pressure of people's expectations. This time I was tempted by how ironically fitting this excerpt became. I wrote it tonight, but I had plotted it months ago and this was always how it was meant to play out. But shit, I could never have expected for it to hit so close to home ><

Please don't ask me when this fic is going to be complete and/or posted. I'm committed to finishing it but I can promise nothing, especially as things are right now.)

Kokabiel sighed, looking with chagrin at his final creation. It was tiny on the cosmic scale, merely a dwarf, its light red and dim. They could hardly feel the heat emitted by its idle release of energy. Aziraphale held the Starmaker’s palms a little more firmly, their star absorbing one final spot of closeness to its two celestial fathers before they allowed it to float away, the merciless forces of interstellar gravity settling it into the physical realm, somewhere in the direction of what was going to become the Solar system. Kokabiel let out a barely audible sob as he watched. ‘I know it’s not even close to what you imagined,’ Aziraphale whispered. ‘It’s the smallest of all and its light is so faint compared to the others. But it is there. Despite it all, despite the Metatron himself. You still managed to put it there.’ ‘We managed to put it there,’ Kokabiel corrected, looking back at the Cherub and granting him a sincere, though pained smile.

an excerpt from I Watched You Hang the Stars ch4 (WIP, unpublished) by AVoiceBehindTheStars

[ninawolv3rina]

Not to be dramatic but I’m obsessed with her

OC: Rowena (she/her)

[tracle0]

look upon ye mighty and despair

hey did you know I've never done a comic sans intro for any version of this story? That's insane

[voxofthevoid]

Vore Wednesday#2—revamped 🦷

Tumblr ate my original post for this, which I found out last week while looking up that snippet for an ask response. Since it'll be July or something before your resistance, prophetic self-destruction goes up on Ao3, I figured I might as well reinstate the post.

For folks who haven't seen this before, here's the fic I started the WIP Wednesday snippets for. It's kinda wild remembering how quiet the JJK side of my blog was back then. For folks who have already read this, there's still new material since I've doubled the length of the excerpt.

(Links for Snippet 1 and Snippet 3)

Have some chosoita ft. Gojou and goyuu:

He mouths at a bruise, too much teeth for it to be soothing, but Chōsō pushes his chest into it anyway, his fingers curling into a fist in Yuuji’s hair.

Yuuji digs his teeth in harder before letting go, dragging his lips up to Chōsō’s shoulder. The skin there is pulled taut over straining muscles, and they flex under his mouth, almost a flinch. Yuuji can understand why, given what he did the last few times he set his teeth to Chōsō’s shoulder. But he also knows it’s not dread that’s trembling in Chōsō’s muscles but anticipation.

He sucks lightly, and Chōsō shudders against him, around him.

Yuuji’s mouth waters.

It’s fucked up. He shouldn’t like this. He doesn’t even know if he actually does. He sure as hell isn’t hungry. And he said he’d eat anything, but not like this—this isn’t power, it’s just pleasure. And it shouldn’t be.

Monster, purrs a voice in his head, infuriatingly familiar because despite ripping free of Yuuji’s body, that bastard is still here haunting his mind. 

But fine. Yuuji will be the monster.

He clamps his teeth around Chōsō’s flesh, tearing out a bloody chunk.

Chōsō jerks against him, crying out hoarsely. His dick’s leaking where it’s pressed between their bellies, making a mess of what’s left of their clothes. Yuuji swallows, mouth still pressed to the hotly bleeding wound at Chōsō’s shoulder. He’s keenly aware of Chōsō’s cursed energy mingling with his own, and it’s not the revitalizing rush it was back in Shibuya when Chōsō was making a concerted attempt to transfer it to Yuuji, but even in this passive state, his power is potent and it burns inside Yuuji—blood and rot, life and decay.

Under his lips, Chōsō’s flesh is starting to knit back together. Yuuji licks at it, blood wetting his tongue, and Chōsō squirms on his cock, scrabbling at Yuuji’s shoulders as if that will give him any leverage. Yuuji bites deep into the healing flesh.

Chōsō gasps his name like a curse and a prayer.

“Well,” says a voice that is distinctly not Chōsō’s, “this isn’t what I was expecting.”

Yuuji freezes, but so does Chōsō, and that’s a bad idea given the position they’re in. His dick doesn’t care that Yuuji’s veins just iced over; the blood fattening it up is as hot as anything, as the blood still slicking his mouth.

He lifts his face from Chōsō’s mangled shoulder, staring over it at the dark room. The only illumination is the faint moonlight from the open window, but Yuuji’s eyes adjusted to the darkness long back. He can see all too well the figure slouching in the darkness by the door—the still-locked door, which sure as hell didn’t open and close without either Yuuji or Chōsō noticing it.

But when has a paltry door ever stopped Gojou Satoru? How many times did Yuuji wake in his dorm room to find a body looming over him, a mouth stifling his shout before it could rend the air and probably bring Fushiguro running?

“Gojou-sensei,” Yuuji chokes out. “What are you doing? Why are you here?”

Gojou shifts, pushing away from the wall he was leaning against. He’s still not wearing his blindfold, and his eyes are eerily bright in the dark, as if they’re generating their own light. It leaves the rest of his face discomfitingly shadowed.

It’s perverse how the sight makes Yuuji’s dick twitch where it’s buried inside a frozen Chōsō.

And it’s Chōsō Gojou is staring at, appraising his half-dressed body with a hot, heavy regard that doesn’t feel sexual so much as predatory, and Yuuji feels his heart lurch to his throat when those gleaming eyes linger on Chōsō’s shoulder and slide slowly, inexorably to Yuuji’s gore-stained mouth.

“Six Eyes,” Chōsō hisses, voice low and furious; he’s turned his head, probably glaring at Gojou. “Get out.”  

A curse, maybe a warning, dies in Yuuji’s throat, his thundering heart still plugging it up. He stares at the taut line of Chōsō’s throat, then at Gojou’s dangerously bland smile. Back and forth, over and over.

“No, I don’t think I will,” says Gojou, and Yuuji knows the particular edge of that serrated amusement on his tongue, and he can’t help how his fingers sink into Chōsō’s hips, gripping hard enough to make Chōsō’s legs twitch around him. And it hits him then, more of a shock than it should be: Chōsō’s still on his cock, Yuuji’s still— “To answer your question, Yuuji, I came here—ran here, really, because I’m a good teacher like that—because I sensed your cursed energy doing some freaky shit. And him, of course. This isn’t what I thought I’d see, but you definitely don’t look like you’re in need of a rescue.”

His eyes drop pointedly to where Chōsō is seated on Yuuji’s cock.

The traitorous thing throbs.

Chōsō makes a soft, shuddering noise.

“I…” Yuuji tails off. What the fuck can he say?

I can explain? He can’t.

I’m sorry? He’s not.

And he can’t do that to Chōsō, especially not when Yuuji’s the one who dragged him into this.

“Yuuji’s brother, was it?” Gojou asks mildly, not a question at all. “Now, I don’t know how it is for curses, but among us lowly humans, this kind of thing is pretty pathological.”

“Sensei!” Yuuji snaps before he can help himself.

The full, furious force of Gojou’s attention descends on him, freezing him twice over.

Gojou takes a step forward, then another.

Chōsō grows impossibly tenser, warm marble in Yuuji’s arms and a molten constriction around his cock. But Yuuji can only watch Gojou’s slow, stalking approach with a strange sort of exhilarated horror.

Gojou comes to a stop right behind Chōsō, whose discomfort writhes in the air. Yuuji meets his eyes for a fleeting moment, helpless need crashing into helpless fury. There’s nothing Chōsō can do, impaled on Yuuji’s cock with Yuuji’s hands holding him down.

I’m sorry, Yuuji wants to say, but he already knows, doesn’t he, that Chōsō will forgive him anything?

Above Chōsō’s head, Gojou’s eyes blaze blue.

Yuuji runs into them headfirst.

An arm reaches over Chōsō’s shoulder, carefully not brushing skin. Chōsō tenses anyway, pulling a throaty whine out of Yuuji that’s crushed the next instant by the fingers curling around his jaw, too tender to be anything but cruel.

Gojou’s thumb wipes the blood off Yuuji’s lips.

For a moment, they all seem to stare at it.

“Six Eyes,” Chōsō growls, and it’s angry, almost as angry as he was the one and only time he tried to kill Yuuji, but underneath that, there’s something Yuuji can only label fear.

“Yuuji’s brother,” Gojou returns, calm and deadly. “Hush now. My business isn’t with you.”

Chōsō jolts, furious, but maybe he forgets he’s still sitting on Yuuji’s cock because the motion makes them both groan—Chōsō obviously failing to stifle it, Yuuji too far gone to even try.

Gojou’s pupils grow cavernous.

Motion, a blinding blur.

Lips press to Yuuji’s, and they don’t belong to the body now crushed against his own. It’s the most aggressive kiss he’s ever had, even if it’s close-lipped and three seconds long. He gasps into it, but Gojou’s already pulling back, and Yuuji doesn’t think it has anything to do with the spikes of blood erupting from Chōsō’s torn shoulder to shatter uselessly against Infinity.

Gojou pays them—and Chōsō—no mind.

He says, “Come find me when you’re done playing with your…brother.”

And then he’s gone, an absence more sudden and absolute than his appearance earlier.

“Fuck,” Yuuji says, softy and with feeling; his whole mouth is burning, electric.

“Yuuji,” Chōsō says tightly, “you need to—”

Let go, is what he probably plans to say. Pull out, maybe.

Yuuji doesn’t do either, doesn’t even let him finish, standing in a violent rush that strangles Chōsō’s words and Yuuji’s common sense both, and it’s a few, harried strides to the door, Chōsō’s back impacting it with a loud thud that reverberates in the too-quiet room.  

Chōsō’s answering shudder bites into Yuuji’s cock.

“What are you doing?” he asks, a strained, barely audible whisper.

Yuuji kisses him because he doesn’t have an answer, fucks into him because he doesn’t want the questions, and Chōsō gasps into his mouth and tightens around his cock, and Yuuji’s body knows how to take it from there, even if his mind is a maelstrom of white and blue.

Are you there, are you listening, is this what you—

A particularly harsh thrust makes Chōsō rake his nails down Yuuji’s back, and Yuuji hoists him higher in response, fingers digging bruises into thick, taut thighs, and it’s better, the angle, Chōsō held at just the right height for Yuuji to plunge madly into, and he growls, the sound half lost in their wet, open mouths, but Chōsō still claws him open and squeezes him tighter, and there’s a cry thrust down Yuuji’s throat—a hurt little noise.

What am I doing, why am I punishing him—

Why is he angry?

[caughtinthefireagain]

Ron grinned. “You cheeky little–” He planted both palms firmly on the ground, then moved forward to close the gap between them. 

In an instant, he had pressed his lips to hers.

Pansy tasted like sweetness and cigarettes. As soon as their lips touched, all rational thought ceased. This was so much better than their kiss during the silly party game last year, or their stolen kiss in the broom closet. This was real. It was a new beginning.

Pansy’s whole body reacted, closing any remaining space between them by boldly pressing her chest into his. When she wrapped her arms around his neck, Ron thought he might die of happiness right then.

Never had he experienced a more perfect moment. Ron’s movements were tentative, at first; he moved his fingers gently through her soft raven hair while his tongue darted into her mouth, her full lips caressing his. The feel of her supple lips parting under his was enough to make his knees go weak. Ron groaned; he felt his cock harden when Pansy opened her mouth wider to welcome him, her tongue reaching out to meet his own.

She let out a soft sigh as he pulled her closer, his hands trailing down her body to lay his palms on her gorgeous bum; he squeezed her arse through her skirt, and she groaned into their kiss, wiggling her hips into him. 

Gods, her arse is perfect.

Ron gazed down in awe as his hands roamed over her soft skin, hardly believing that such a beauty could want him. 

Too fast, Ron thought, Does she want…?

He broke the kiss and shifted so that Pansy was sitting on his lap. When he looked down into her wide green eyes, he found himself searching them for any sign of regret. Ron saw a cocktail of emotions in her face - fear, desire, uncertainty - and suddenly he couldn’t speak. They stared at each other in silence, breathless and panting from the intensity of their kiss.

Pansy’s whole body was on fire; she could feel Ron’s erection through his robes, and she’d never felt more warm and safe than she did in the present moment, wrapped in his embrace. She could see his nervousness written all over his face, and felt a slight tremble in his hands. His beautiful, clear blue eyes searched hers, the question he was too afraid to voice so clear to her.

Do you want me?

In that moment, nothing else mattered. Pansy didn’t think about what her friends would say, or her hellish engagement, or even the years of bad history that she shared with the strong, handsome redhead who held her so tenderly. 

Fuck it, thought Pansy, feeling reckless. If this is the closest I can get to happiness, I’ll fucking take it.

The answer is yes.

Pansy placed her palms on either side of Ron’s face and pulled his head in towards her for a passionate kiss. 

When Ron’s tongue gently pressed its way into her mouth, she let out a small sigh, her soft thighs tensing in his lap. Ron held her, gentle but firm in his grasp. He didn’t want to let her go. He spoke everything he felt for her into his kiss, everything he couldn’t say out loud: how beautiful he thought she was, how smart and sexy. That he would give her anything she wanted. That he would give up everything he had to make her his.

.............................................................................................................................

Excerpt from Chapter 13 of Matched by Caughtinthefireagain on Ao3

[lieutgore]

[kat-xox]

FALSE PROPHETS?

FALSE PROPHETS.

[thedeafprophet]

before i can draft the design of Josie's skeleton and machinery necromancy bird i must consider how each individual piece fits together

[text reads: "Bones collected"

"Bones attached + tendon replaced with amber"

"To soar against the pull of gravity"

"metal wings"

"Bird is raven sized"]