#is wip wednesday a thing??

[mudandmire]

WIP Wednesday - Ghost

Azriel made a deal with the Mother thirty years ago: his service in return for Eris's life. Azriel leaves no impression on the world anymore, no footprints or sounds. The only thing he leaves behind are rivers - endless erosions of blood through the stone he bore the day Eris died. His obedience, in return for Eris's survival. There is no other way.

...

There are no footprints in the snow. This close to the border Autumn has with Winter, the clouds hang low to the tops of the conifers. Thick, grey blankets heavy with the flurry of flakes that fall fast to the Autumn floor. Everything is dusted with it, the shells of leaves, the shrubs and weeds that carpet the ground—every burrow is sealed away. Somewhere high in the mountains, the jaws that cut the line of the territories, he waits.

Azriel stands unmoving in a clearing. His feet make no imprint, his breath no steam. The watery, pale light frosts over the scene before him, where even the vivid jewel patterns of autumn fade to grey tones. His chest rises and falls, the only movement apart from the dry bones rustle of barren boughs against each other in the canopies.

Every sense is at attention. The hunter, the executioner—both have been called to this ceremony. He just happened to get here early.

His wings twitch when he hears boots in the snow. The crunching of new frost, hurried footsteps and the scuffling sound of a struggle. All that greets him when he inhales deeply is the crisp scent of cold. A familiar smell from his youth in Windhaven. It burns through his nose all the same.

"Fuck—stop struggling." There, a voice through the trees. Gruff, like it was spoken into the collar of a jacket. He can sense the strain in the words—they're dragging something.

Azriel's head tilts just so. The movement is eerie under his hood, predatory. A wolf cocking its ears. His hands remain behind his back under the fold of his wings. Patience, after all, is part of the fun.

Again, a voice reaches out to him, brought on the hissing tendrils of his accompanying darkness—his shadows.

"I thought you said the faebane would be enough!" It's a normal voice. The rounded vowels of the Autumn Court, and a slight rasp in the throat like he'd been strangled one too many times.

"I—shit, I did. That's what she told me."

The other males scoff is ugly, locked up from the chill this far up the mountain slope.

"That's the last time I let you be in charge of the sedative."

Azriel's tongue swipes out, wetting his chapped bottom lip. He can taste the tang of their stress in the wind; bitter like ripened sweat. He feels the pound of their pulse through the breadth of the snow covered ground if he shifts his feet just so. His eyes close. He won't look, won't cheat. Not yet. Besides, he knows all he needs to know about these males: their heads, the nervous trembling to their blue-tinged fingers, the darting of their eyes to every spare corner of the forest. Cornered, disturbed, unafraid to lash out.

He knows that whatever it is they have, has no right being sedated. Hauled like a sack of rice to a little, forgotten corner of this Court and disposed of to no one's eyes under the unsympathetic grey blanket of sky.

No one's eyes, except Azriel's.

He shifts, finding the thread of the males pulses through the ground. Beneath him, the coating of snowfall lays pristine.

The shuffling grows closer, as does the grunts of exertion. Azriel can smell them now, the acrid tang of their sweat and the fetid scent of their breath. Day old alcohol, still lingering on their lips, high in the rosiness of their cheeks.

"Here, we'll do it here." The one with the rasp says. Azriel keeps his back turned at the hollow thump of a body against the earth.

It's pulse is there; weak, but still thumping. The antsy rabbiting of a heart that knows it needs to fight.

His shadows still. Unnatural in its right; the shadows are constantly moving, shaping, bouncing where the light grows and shrinks its domain. Now, they go preternaturally quiet, the buzzing in his head fades as they slink around his shoulders.

This, this, they whisper. We do not know what to make of this.

Azriel nearly rolls his eyes at them. It is not the first time they've had an assignment like this. In now thirty years it certainly won't be the last.

He figures now is as good as any time. The males seem distracted, their muscles loosened with ease, warm with adrenaline and the thrill of getting away undetected.

Foolish, foolish souls. They are not worth the blood on Azriel's blade.

This, this. His shadows hiss again, a rising chorus of confusion and spite that sparks embers in his blood.

Azriel turns, silent as the flakes fall, and freezes.

Bright, copper hair spills out onto the snowdrift. A streak of an auburn ribbon in the ever-white world, this in between space of bejeweled autumn and pale winter. His face is turned, right half buried in the swell of the drift. A bruise, like a roiling thundercloud, blooms along the left side of his cheekbone up to his temple where it disappears into his hair. He's pale, skin nearly translucent where it's pressed to the cold snow, blue at the lips. The only color that remains, not leached from his body or under his twitching eyelids, is the copper shock of his hair and the purpling, violet-green contusion on his face.

This. The shadows round his shoulders, his wrists, legs, the tips of his wings and hum.

The first male, the one who seemingly botched the sedative, stretches his back.

"Mother's tits," he curses, blowing hot air into his cupped hands. "Let's get this over with so we can get somewhere warm." His dark, brown hair escapes from behind a pointed ear.

Azriel hasn't moved, hasn't drawn a single breath. The entirety of him is motionless, even his shadows don't dare to make sudden movements. His gaze, under the shade of his hood, is locked on the spill of copper hair. They map upwards from there, tracing it like the curves of a river until they land on familiar, but unknown territory.

There's a hollow in him. A space once filled but now not. It echoes when he brushes against it, that old, familiar pain rising up with a gasp and a bite to his heart. Tripping, tumbling, till it knocks against the bones of his rib cage and continues to beat against them. He can faintly feel the bond. This close it's drawing him in: two ends of a book closed together, and he craves it desperately.

Azriel sucks in a breath, harsh and cold, shocking him enough to blink his frozen stare away. Burned cinnamon, and the delectable smell of that nutty, slightly earthy scent greets him.

This, this, this. It's grown into a chant, his shadows moving in the strange, halting way they do when there's an end—a goal.

Eris Vanserra has been brought here to die.

Azriel of the Mother has been ordered here to kill.

...

~~~ This is just a fun lil something I thought I'd share. I've been pondering it for a while, but honestly I just got so caught up in all the logistics and if it would match the lore that I lost interest and passion completely. It's only been recently that I've come back around to it because I said screw it - I like this concept, I want to explore it. If it doesn't match the lore or timelines - to hell with both of them! Fanfiction is for fun! I know SJM lore is important and whatnot, but I'm a little kid playing in a sandbox with my bucket and shovels - there is nothing but limitless potential here :D ~~~

[inflomora-art]

wip wednesday steddie 🖤

[inklessletter]

We're trusting the process again here.

[disjointed-art]

Steddie and their emotional support snacks

Sometimes safe food is the only option when faced with the interdemensional bullshit that is Hawkins and the upside down.

[fuctacles]

can i have some more wereshifter please?? 🥺 I love that AU so much 🥺

Absolutely! And tysm! You're gonna like this one. I hope I think.

<< 7 | 0 | 9 >>

Steve starts jotting things down and the tension from his body quickly melts away, and he leans more comfortably into Eddie's side. Now that he's not worried that any movement might startle his friend, Eddie reaches for the coffee with his free hand. Soon, Steve does the same, and when he sits back, he shimmies his shoulder back under Eddie's arm, and tucks his legs up onto the couch. 

It's really hard not to chuckle into his coffee, but Steve doesn't seem to either notice or care about his own movements and Eddie's reaction. Feeling emboldened, he points out that paper towels will be better than napkins, while sliding his hand down Steve's shoulder.

It's not dissimilar from how he'd pet the dog while watching TV. Up and down, with a gentle drag of his nails.

If he thought Steve was relaxed before, now he might be turning into goop. With a quiet, huffed out sigh, he liquifies against his side. Eddie presses his lips together, but can't stop the amused puffs of air that come out of his nose.

"Shut up," Steve murmurs while crossing out 'straws' from his list. "It's nice."

"Good," Eddie smiles, gently squeezing his shoulder. He feels warm inside knowing Steve's being honest. With his friend and himself, most importantly. He resumes his scratching with more purpose.

Steve twitches under his arm.

He looks down, but the man is laser-focused on the list, now on the snack section. But the tips of his ears are crimson red. Not averting his gaze, Eddie scratches down his arm the same way he'd do along a dog's spine. Steve's foot moves. Once, twice, and while he keeps scratching with more purpose, it starts tapping against the couch. Steve stops writing.

"No way," Eddie grins in delight at his discovery. 

"Eddie, come on..." The embarrassment is squeezing his throat, so Eddie presses him closer, hoping to provide some comfort.

"Uh, no," he protests. "This is golden. Is this what you were so scared of when you ran away? When you told me about the dog allergy?" He doesn't let go, scratching with ferocity like he would an overjoyed dog. Which, in a way, Steve is. 

"Stevie, man. Sweetheart," he coos. "Just let go."

So Steve does. 

The pen falls out of his grip and he leans against Eddie with a sigh, almost cuddled against his chest. His leg spasms while Eddie scratches him along his arm and the side of his back that Steve turned up to him. Eventually, whatever itch he had that needed relief gets scratched enough to satisfy him. Eddie flattens his palm against his arm and Steve sighs into his chest. He's now fully sprawled in his lap and breathing deeply. Eddie cradles him close. 

"See? It's all fine. Is it weird? Probably, but we fought interdimensional monsters, so. Just embrace it okay?"

Steve chuckles against his skin. 

"Okay," he agrees softly. Eddie scratches his head for good behaviour. 

"Great. Now up, I gotta pee."

Tags: @noodle-shenaniganery @jaytriesstrangerthings @imaginary-maggie-waggie @samsoble @croatoan-like-its-hot

@dragonmama76 @storyranger @scoops-aboy86 (if i missed anyone lmk)

[ekingston]

DONT post morgana w/o warning!!! i will go FERAL

apologies anon but i’m not usually in charge of these things. case in point my current WIP:

clearly my brain is not done with her yet

[campbyler]

one thing about will is he is going to be propositioning fr

[waveoftheocean]

long time no wip wednesday 🙈 (been thinking abt atsumu's demon design ever since it dropped holy moly)

[blairbeau]

Sexed up abusive lesbians 😔💖😝

[sabbathbloodysabbeth]

AHHHH I’ve been rereading some of my past posts (they were created for me and god am I happy I created them) but they have also put this thought into my head.

What if Omega Steve is the only one able to carry Eddie out because he has been doing everything in his power to not be seen as “just another weak omega” on his free time. Working out, purposely preparing for this moment. He needs to be useful. He needs to be needed. And these needs all stem back from his lack of physical and emotional intimacy. He does have some with Robin, and Robin only but Robin is a beta and doesn’t know how to handle an omega so Steve just doesn’t act like one of those Omegas even though it’s in his nature.

Now he can’t deny all of his nature, he does tend to act “motherly” and protective of those he loves and does other smaller things that aren’t that noticeable. In summary, Steve has and most likely will always be in control. (Which is fine but it’s a rare trait in omegas)

But what if in this universe you don’t find out your second gender until you were closer to eighteen. The youngest being sixteen but that was more rare than anything. Which means in season one neither Nancy, Steve or Jonathan are presenting. Along with this, it’s a well known fact that chaotic situations before presenting is a bad thing as it can affect how your omega/beta/alpha is for the rest of your life. (Basically if they are going to be feral, protective, closed of, or any other traits but to a higher extreme that can lead to complications)

So the younger kids are safe as they are no where near presenting but Steve, Jonathan and Nancy are all in the danger zone. All of them are being actively watched at all times by doctors that were assigned to them. (They each get their own) and when the time comes they all start presenting.

First Nancy, she presents as an Alpha (which was effected by the stressful situation, the doctors did the probability check and testing and she was supposed to be a beta) but other than that she is completely fine and an average alpha considering the circumstances.

Then there is Jonathan. It doesn’t take him long but he presents as a beta. And he’s also completely fine considering the circumstances. Besides having a bad anxiety disorder he’s good.

And finally Steve. Steve who is extremely late with presenting. He doesn’t present until after the events of season three. The doctors think it may have had to do with the unknown drugs that were forced into his system.

Steve’s omega is definetly fucked up, and similarly to that of Nancy Steve was supposed to be an alpha. But in the chaos and trauma his secondary gender switched completely but still holds some “alpha traits”. And he is now always on watch just in case. Along with this he can’t have any heats, which means he’s essentially unable to have children.

Time skip back to him struggling in the upside down. Robin can’t carry Eddie, she’s so tiny and can barely hold herself up. Nancy possibly could but she looked just as exhausted, her own Alpha overwhelmed with how much charge she had to take. And poor Dustin is sobbing, Steve doesn’t think he has much choice. And before any of them can stop him he lifts Eddie (who is an alpha) up and carry’s him out. All of them are shocked, and slightly alarmed as something triggers and Steve’s omega has finally done what the doctors said it would. It goes feral.

It takes a couple of doctors but he’s safely detained while he heals and his omega pretty much takes over completely. The doctors describe it as a form of coma, where the main person (Steve) has been forced to go to “sleep” for a while by his omega as a form of protecting him from anymore trauma. And with the amount of trauma he’s gone through they predict he won’t ever wake up.

But thanks to Steve, Eddie is still alive. Sacrificing himself in the process. Both him and Eddie are in comas and after a year when Eddie wakes up time starts to move again.

Eddie gets taken care of and the doctors come to him after a month of being awake (without telling anyone else) to see if he could test something for them. And by test they mean they want them to go into the same room as Steve’s omega and see if that helps trigger him back awake.

The first session (this goes on for numerous sessions) they see a flicker of Steve return to himself but bla bla bla summary of what I’m trying to come back to is that Eddie and Steve have numerous sessions together where Eddie’s alpha helps Steve’s omega out.

Teaches him how to nest, gives him more physical intimacy that an omega needs (except a heat of course) and starts to bond with Steve who is slowly coming back to each day Eddie comes. It gets to the point where Eddie has to move from his room to Steve’s to stay with him full time while they both heal because his Alpha has bonded with Steve’s omega.

I feel as if I’ve rambled enough but this was an idea I had!

[steddieasitgoes]

When The Buzzer Sounds | A Steddie Big Bang Fic | Coming Soon

Written by: Steddieasitgoes | Art by: @hellfiredemon

Steve's so engrossed in his conversation with Eddie he doesn’t notice the change in music or the enthusiastic cheers of the people around him as they shift their gaze from the court up to the giant Jumbotron above. In fact, it isn’t until Robin is jabbing her own boney elbow into his ribs does he stop talking to asses what the hell is going on. A move he immediately regrets when he realizes what has nearly 20,000 eyes focused on the oversized screens.  The Kiss Cam.  The cameraman stands a few yards away from them, feet solidly on the court with no urgency to move on until he gets what he wants. This isn’t the first time this has happened to them. And it certainly won’t be the last. Whenever they’re in public they’re always SteveandRobin so inseparable they must be dating.  He’s prepared to see his and Robin’s freckled face projected up on the Jumbotron. To give into the routine they have down pact — Robin’s playful retching, Steve’s bewildered shake of his head, the two of them both mouthing “we’re siblings” because it works better than trying to explain their platonic soulmate-ism to a stadium that can’t hear them. Though, maybe this time Robin will go off script and announce that she’s a lesbian — if only because a familiar blonde has returned to the court.  But it’s not their freckled faces that grace him when he looks up. It’s his face, yes. Perfectly combed and styled hair, a smattering of moles, and hazel eyes a little wider than usual staring back at him. But it’s the face to his left that shocks him. Unruly curls frame a pale face. Big, wild, brown eyes stare at him in bewilderment like a deer in headlights.  Shit.  “Um, Steve?” Tearing his eyes away from the Jumbotron is an arduous (another win for Robin’s word of the day calendar) battle Steve almost loses. Not because he’s not strong enough, but because the thought of meeting Eddie’s bewildered eyes head-on is enough to send him running. Still, he does just that, schooling his face in something that, he hopes, resembles a neutral expression.  “Don’t worry, they’ll move on,” Steve says, only half believing the words himself. His first-hand experience with the kiss cam says the exact opposite, but he’s not about to tell Eddie that especially when his words have him nodding in relief and sinking back into the black leather seat. The camera is still pointed at them when he looks away from Eddie. Their faces are still projected onto the massive screens and the stadium of onlookers starts a mix of chants and boos — encouragement and disappointment that they’re not participating in the time-honored, tradition. At least everyone in his row is silent, not even Dustin makes a move to join the onslaught of harassment from strangers which is further proof of what a colossal mess they’ve found themselves in. 

Or:

The year is 1998 and Lucas is set to make his NBA debut. Nothing is going to keep Steve from being there to witness this monumental moment. Eddie apparently shares the same sentiment and the two find themselves in the same place at the same time for the first time since they blurred the lines of their once-solid friendship four years ago at Dustin's wedding.

Surprisingly, Steve and Eddie manage to fall back into their friendship easily. That is until their playful conversation at half-time gets interpreted as flirting and the two find themselves the latest victims in the dreaded Kiss Cam tradition. With a stadium watching and his own desire taking over, Steve must decide if kissing Eddie "for the bit" is worth jeopardizing their rekindled friendship.

Who knows, maybe a peer-pressured kiss will be the spark to get them to talk about that night four years ago when everything changed.

Project #009 for @steddiebang2024 | 15K Expected Word Count | Mature

[lizhly-writes]

@auburnlaughter you got it!!!!

Bai Zhan disciples courted An Ding disciples; An Ding disciples courted Bai Zhan disciples. Over the years, this had somehow become the natural way of things.

Without any context or any particular guidance from their peak lord on why their head disciple was no longer following the natural way of things, the Bai Zhan disciples had a 50/50 split in opinion. Either 1) Yue Qingyuan had stolen Shang Qinghua from Liu Qingge or 2) Shang Qinghua needed to punch Shen Qingqiu in the face.

"It's okay!" said a particularly enthusiastic Bai Zhan disciple who had actively sought Shang Qinghua out to tell him this. "You can win your man back with trial-by-combat!"

"No," Shang Qinghua said.

The Bai Zhan disciple pouted. "But it'd be so romantic!"

Shang Qinghua would die a really romantic death in that case, because haha, he would not survive trial-by-combat with Shen Qingqiu.

[fluffyfangirl]

cuddly boys. sleepy boys.

[welcometololaland]

WIP WEDNESDAY! (can you believe it?! carlos can't! this is from the 10 things i hate about you au i hope to start posting on sunday <3)

“So, are you going to answer my question?” Carlos asks, prodding TK in the side. They’re getting more tactile as the weeks go on, and he’s decided to lean into it. It’s too easy to convince himself that it’s a good idea.

TK snorts. “The prickly thing? That was a statement, not a question.”

“Let me rephrase,” Carlos says. “Why are people under the impression that TK Strand is prickly?”

“You don’t think I’m prickly?”

The deflection is so obvious it makes Carlos rolls his eyes, even though TK can’t see him do so. “You’re the biggest marshmallow I’ve ever met in my life, TK. You followed me around like a lost puppy for weeks trying to be my friend.”

“I did not,” TK protests darkly, sounding highly offended. It loses its effect by virtue of the fact that he’s still got his head resting on Carlos’ shoulder.

“Are you gonna tell me why you’re threatening to beat up freshmen?”

“No one said that…did they?”

“No,” Carlos admits. “But someone told me you started a bar fight.”

TK groans. “That was one time,” he insists. “I’m a changed man.”

tagging: @bonheur-cafe @rmd-writes @liminalmemories21 @strandnreyes @emsprovisions

@alrightbuckaroo @ironheartwriter @lemonlyman-dotcom @corsage @freneticfloetry

@butchreyes @reyesstrand @heartstringsduet @carlos-in-glasses @irispurpurea

@whatsintheboxmh @three-drink-amy @littlemissmarianna @orchidscript @dumbpeachjuice

@kiwiana-writes @lightningboltreader @eclectic-sassycoweyes @birdclowns @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut

@nancys-braids @captain-gillian @st-elle-ar @anactualcaseofthetruth @basilsunrise and anyone else who wants to play! sorry im super out of the loop so if you want to be tagged in these or DON'T want to be tagged, please reach out 💜

[disjointed-art]

Wip Wednesday

“The kiss” but make it vampire au steddie

This may or may not go with the new Lexi fic that I had a hand in suggesting👀

Also if you missed it my shop went live on Saturday and lots of stickers, keychains & 32 different print options are there! Found here

[fuctacles]

Congrats on starting T!!!! It was a hard choice between cat lady Stevie and wereshifter BC I love them both but I'd love a WIP Wednesday snippet of the wereshifter AU plz and thx and again congratulations 🎉

thank you thank you thank you! Here's a 500 of the wereshifter au:

<< 6 | 7 | 8 >>

Something is wrong with Steve Harrington.

And not in the Upside Down trauma and multiple concussions way. No. He has his chin on Eddie's table, his big literal puppy dog eyes staring up at him as he writes down everyone's favorite foods, drinks, and snacks. And it wouldn't be that weird, hell, Eddie wouldn't even notice it, if there wasn't something wrong with him as well.

Because his instinct reaction to Steve's position is to start scratching at his head. It's almost muscle memory now because Dog-Steve would do that a lot; put his head on the table and observe what Eddie was doing. Steve seemed to slip into that mindset without even shifting, his eyes closing in contentment at the scratch.

Eddie can only stare, both fascinated and horrified, at Steve's tiny smile. His hand stills, bringing Steve back from wherever he was, his eyes widening before he jolts up.

"Shit, sorry!" His ears instantly turn red. "I wasn't— Sorry."

Eddie rolls his eyes. He's hit by the memory of that night when Steve told him he's allergic to dogs. Poor guy must have been terrified by his own needs and body reactions.

"Don't be sorry, dude." He stands up so they don't have to look at each other when he asks the next question. "When was the last time someone like, hugged you?" And then, to weaken the blow, he adds: "Do you want more coffee?"

"Uh. Yes, please." Eddie pours the remainder of the coffee between their two mugs and starts cleaning up the coffee maker to make another pot for Wayne later.

"Robin hugs me." He says while Eddie's back is still turned. "Joyce too, whenever she sees me."

Eddie hums, choosing not to point out that he said who hugs him and not when they last did. And he might be no hug expert, but two people he doesn't see that often does not sound like a lot. Wayne gives him a side hug every now and then when catch each other before leaving for school or work. He gives him a gentle kick before each performance fro a good luck. His band hugs a lot when they're riding the high of playing, both music and DnD. And the weed high, of course. Gareth gets cuddly every time.

He grabs their mugs and motions for Steve to take the notebook they've been planning the shopping list in.

"Let's go to the couch."

They barely settle down, their coffees put on the tiny table in front of them, when Eddie's shifting closer to where Steve's trying to keep his distance. He spreads his arm over his shoulders and pulls him in, and Steve is too surprised to resist, almost stumbling into his chest.

"There you go. Get comfortable, okay?" Steve is tense against him, so Eddie reaches fo the notebook and pen to give him a distraction.

"Now you write," he decides. "How much soda do you think we need? Oh, and we'll need solo cups."