#free plot idea

[fanfic-stories-and-plots]

***Spoilers for Deadpool and Wolverine****

The other day, I was thinking of Deadpool and Wolverine movie. Specifically, the part where Deadpool was hopping timelines to find the right Logan to take back to his timeline.

I had a thought and I didn’t see any fanfics on it, but what if he actually stayed and helped down the Logan that was being crucified on the X before leaving? What if that Logan tagged along with the Deadpool and the Logan we see throughout the movie? How would that change things? Would it change things?

I don’t know if that makes sense, but it was a random plot idea that I had. If anyone wants to write it, please do.

[shepscapades]

Thanks to artfight, I’ve finally finished a detailed, official dbhc cub reference! :D

(I’ve put his Artifight description below the cut, which has a more detailed explanation of his timeline, lore, and aesthetics! >:3)

-ˋˏ ༻ ❁  OVERVIEW ❁ ༺ ˎˊ-

Name: C.B.F.N.4000 (Cub) Pronouns: He/Him Species: Android Height: 5’9’’ Associated Visual Themes: vex, ghosts, explosions, mischief, scientist aesthetic, potions, potionmaking, sleepy/tired aesthetic, conspiracies

-ˋˏ ༻ ❁  ABOUT ❁ ༺ ˎˊ-

CBFN4000 is an au version of MCYT Hermitcraft’s Cubfan, set in my DBHC (or Detroit Become Hermitcraft) AU! This au is inspired by the 2018 game Detroit Become Human, but not because it really has anything to do with DBH—I simply yoinked the android mechanics and incorporated them into the world of Hermitcraft. It began as a S8 au, and has roughly followed the hermitcraft timeline up to the present! 

Cub was the last android made during Season 8. While many of the hermit androids were made at the beginning of season 8 and a few were made for season 9, Cub was finished and activated mid-late Season 8, around the time when Hermits started noticing the Big Moon. Cub’s model ended up being a sloppy experiment in deviation, as Doc suggested they try to transfer deviancy to an android upon activation to try and avoid traumatic situations that might cause an android to deviate violently or upsettingly, such as Etho’s, Tango’s, or Mumbo’s experiences. While this went relatively well initially, it clearly wasn’t very thoroughly thought out, as Xisuma (who is normally so adamant and detail-oriented when it comes to assuring the androids’ safety with experiments like this) wasn’t truly himself due to external manipulation and mostly left a relatively young-deviant Doc to carry out the project himself. 

Cub, though adjusting to sentience rather well at first, very quickly became wrapped up in the Big Moon happenings on the server, new personality and inexperience to emotions like fear and ignorance completely overwhelming his young system. He became obsessive over the implications and consequences of the Season 8 Moon Apocalypse, joining the Mooners and spreading his conspiracy theories religiously throughout the server as he descended into madness. The insanity was like a virus to his programming, pervasive and all-engulfing, and Cub’s final attempt to free himself from the Moon’s impact with the Earth—to launch himself on a llama into space via potion-powered TNT(insane btw)— left his hands and feet singed and cracked to ruin.

The experiment, considered a horrific failure by a deeply shameful—and more awake—S9 Xisuma, left Doc and Xisuma with the decision to reset him for the new season, and they ended up pairing him with a hermit like they had done with the other androids until they had found deviancy enough to pursue their own projects. So, at the start of season 9 and fresh after a reset, Cub was paired with Scar. Naturally, because Scar is… Scar, Cub deviated almost instantly after being given to him, and very quickly adopted the iconic lazy, stoic, amused attributes normally associated with Cubfan. Scar’s tendency towards mischief and general shenanigans grew instantly on Cub, and the two were an immediate inseparable pair. So much so that when Scar began rambling one day about his Season 5 Hermitcraft Shenanigans (where deals with the Vex may or may not have been involved), Cub immediately stated he was interested in being in on it. Whatever “it” means. It’s unclear if Cub also made a deal with the vex or became connected to them in some other way, but… well, he got Doc’s help to trick out his eyes, hair, and back to best fit the part. Scar is very jealous that he can't magically make himself have the same features to match.

Cub is closest with Scar, but he gets along just as well with any of the other hermits! He’s close with Jevin and many of the other redstoners like Etho and Doc, who are the other two androids I’ve put on artfight!

-ˋˏ ༻ ❁  EXTRAS ❁ ༺ ˎˊ-

Cub's eyes can light up in the dark, and he’s the only android who has edited his programming so that the default state of his LED is white, not blue. It still will go yellow and red if his processors are working particularly hard, but he’s replaced the blue setting on his LED with white to better match the Vex vibe. Cub has all of the vibes of a fae. If that’s anything <3

[cubbihue]

Did Peri tell Timmy that he was planning to become a Fairy Godparent/that he was assigned a godkid? When we first see the fam reunite in the series, Cosmo and Wanda didn't seem to know.

Timmy had known Peri might pursue becoming a godparent, because Peri had consulted with him about career tracks!! And like. Being the only one invited to Peri's college graduation tends to give Timmy more insight than his parents. Special older brother privileges.

As for being assigned a Godkid, Timmy sorta... Stumbled into it. He found out long before Peri was told he had been given an assignment!

Bitties Series: [Start] > [Previous] > [Next]

Peri's Assignment: [Next]

[lunarmoves]

Your grandmother used to tell you stories of the gods. 

How the world came to be with the snap of their fingers; the wind that came from their breath and the water from their tears. She told you of the ones who lived in the trees, giving life to all the flora and fauna that graced the Earth. The ones who sparked hope in the darkness of places, or supplied warmth at the hearth of people’s homes. 

She told you of Suj’asti, the Sun god, who gave life in the form of light that brightened the sky into a gorgeous blue. Who watched over the Earth as he guided the sun over your heads and shaped the way your days were made. He was the being of prosperity; he was the being of energy.

She told you of D’armil, the Moon god, who decorated the night sky with stars and kept an eye on those who slumbered. Who rotated the moon every night and controlled the push and pulls of the tide by the shore. He was the being of protection; he was the being of dreams. 

You listened to her tales with utmost devotion, intrigued by the way she wove her words to form these intricacies that—to your young mind—revealed all the mysteries of the universe and how it worked. You spent a lot of time in your village’s record collection, reading over scrolls and books alike that contained legends, myths, and theories. It was interesting—it was utterly fascinating. You learned as much as you could and still craved more. It sent you across the lands—this thirst for knowledge—and had you dappling in all manners of magic, folklore, and science. 

You enriched your life with the deep history of magic and mythicals—the powers they possessed that saturated the world over time. You taught yourself how to decipher the languages that connected different beings and that encompassed the words of magic. You wrote, in a little journal you bought in the capital, spells and incantations that you were able to recite—as well as those that you couldn’t. And you always made sure to return to your grandmother’s little cottage at the edge of the woods, recounting to her the things you’d learned. The things you’d seen and experienced. She always appreciated it, you knew.

Before she passed, your grandmother gave you her necklace that she told you had been blessed in the Rivers of Rosoi. The waters that ran through them were said to contain a powerful magic that came from the gods themselves. It will protect you, your grandmother told you as she clasped the fine, golden jewelry around your neck with trembling fingers. It was a gorgeous thing with a pendant made from a jewel that reminded you of smoldering coal. From anything that will bring you harm. It became something you wore more out of habit than necessity, tucked under the collar of your tunic. 

Eventually, once you’d had your fill of adventure and thaumaturgy, you settled down in your late grandmother’s cottage. You busied yourself with flora—documenting them in one of your journals—and the magic some of them contained that could be used for a variety of actions. And since the cottage was seated at the point where a wide, expansive field kissed the beginnings of the woods, you were able to stare out its windows at the open sky above you. Watching as the sun climbed lazily across it as its bright blue transitioned into a deep, deep navy and reminiscing about the tales your grandmother told you of so long ago.

It was peaceful. It was easy. You were content. 

And then… the sky went dark.

You woke up one day to the sight of void-like clouds stagnating over the sky. At first, you paid them no heed, believing that a thunderstorm had decided to descend upon this region of the world. But as days and nights went by without a drop of rain, nor a flash of lightning, you began to realize that something was… wrong.

You weren’t the only one who’d noticed either. A trip to one of the villages nearby showed that everyone was talking about it, worriedly looking up at the black clouds. It was everywhere, they said. From the high mountains of the north to the low beaches of the south. The sky had turned caliginous. And no one had a clue as to why. 

Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months, and there still was no break of sunlight or moonlight through the clouds. You were beginning to wonder if there ever would be. You overheard many talking in quiet whispers about the prayers they sent up to Suj’asti and D’armil—calling for them. Wondering where they had disappeared to and why they weren’t performing their duties. But the sky gods had gone silent. There was no one to answer. 

And as you sat in your little cottage—looking out at the open field before you that resided under that tenebrific sky—you decided that there was something that needed to be done. 

You packed a bag with necessities—food, money, water, your journals—and locked up your home. Then you were off, setting out on an adventure you hadn’t had the taste of in a long, long time. It made something spark in your bones—a feeling that brought you a nostalgia you found to be oh so dear. You were struck by the burning question of what happened? And you’d be damned if you returned empty-handed. 

You walked and walked and walked. You went to the capital to poke around and see if anyone knew anything. You explored villages in the forests and by the sea. You ventured into the lands of mythicals to ask if they had an inkling of what was going on—for surely as beings of legend, they would be more connected to the gods than simple mankind? But no, there was nothing. Not a peep, nor a shout. You searched on. 

You learned of the lost temple of the sky gods in a quaint village that rested at the foot of a red-tinted mountain. Where the people there were tuned to the earth and the air. They told you it was somewhere in the Forest of Isdu—a haunting place, where time seemed to stand still. Rarely did people venture into its looming trees, and rarely did they ever come back out. It was, in essence, the perfect place to hide secrets. The perfect place to go looking for something thought to have been lost. 

But that’s just it, the villagers reminded you, the temple was lost. Then they said no more. And you thought to yourself—well, you had nothing to lose. 

So you walked the long path to the Forest of Isdu and found yourself peering into the gloom that peeked out at you from between tree trunks and wild bushes. You clasped at the pendant that hung from the necklace around your neck in one hand and raised the other to allow a small light to dance around your fingers. Then you set one foot forward and disappeared beyond the treeline. 

The air was different here. It was settled in one place. And where the outside of the forest was teeming with the bumbling sounds of wildlife—chirping birds, rustling leaves, a whooshing breeze—the inside was quiet. Not dead, no. Just quiet. It unnerved you even more—made the soft hairs along your arms raise in unease. You dared not even breathe too loudly, for fear of what lurked around you.

But you pressed on, letting the golden light in your palm guide you around roots and low-hanging branches. Everything was darker here—a result of the thick canopies overhead and the dark sky beyond them. You whispered a spell into the still air to help lead you to the place you sought. You walked until your feet ached—until your shoulders pained you from bearing the weight of your bag. And just when you began to think that perhaps this was a fruitless endeavor, you spotted it—nestled deep between two leaf-ladened trees and covered in ivy. 

The lost temple of the sky gods was a mix of obsidian and swirling gold. Its architecture was noble yet ancient, with spiraling pillars on both sides of the dark, gaping entrance. There was no sign to tell you what it was or who it belonged to, precisely, but if you squinted, you could see the etchings of a crescent moon and the sun just above the entrance. You stared into it and had to suppress a shiver at the cool air that gently wafted out. Amid your unease, there was delight and relief at having found your destination. You internally thanked the magic you used to aid you. 

You let out a breath of air, squared your shoulders, and walked up the few steps of the temple. And before you could let your second thoughts sway you, you ventured forth into the temple and let your light shine brighter to illuminate its inside. It was even quieter in here, if that was even possible. 

The temple wasn’t too wide, but it was certainly tall, you noticed, as you gazed up and around. From what you could see, there was a rather large hole in the ceiling that let you see the inky sky. It was directly above a rather large, stone pedestal that had the remains of incense dusted atop it. You lowered your hand and looked to your left, where there was a gold-stoned statue of a tall, lithe being. It had its arms splayed up and out in a grandeur gesture. Triangular protrusions stuck out of its head, and its face was blank apart from a set of two eyes that were closed. You stepped closer to the base of the statue to peer down at the engraving upon it. 

Suj’asti, it read, E Kuz We-Suj. The god of sun. 

To the right was another statue, this one made of obsidian. It was also tall and lithe, with its arms splayed downwards at its sides and a long cap of sorts resting on its head. If you squinted, you could also see that its eyes were closed. The lack of a mouth was something you thought was strange, but not enough to greatly question it. You walked over to the statue to read its engraving as well. D’armil, E Kuz We-D’ar. The god of moon. 

Finally, you brought your hand forth to look at the last statue that rested directly beyond the pedestal—at the back of the temple. It was tall—taller than the two at its sides in a way that had your neck craned back to an uncomfortable degree. Unlike the gold and obsidian statues, this one was a deep burgundy that glinted in the light in your palm. It had four arms, two of which were crossed over its chest in an ‘x’, while the other two were clasped in front of it like it was saying a prayer. It too had its eyes closed and no mouth, along with many triangle protrusions around its head that varied in length. 

You looked at it curiously—it was not a deity you recognized. And in your curiosity, you rounded the pedestal to stand at its feet and look down. 

There was no name etched at its base. Instead, there was a sentence—one that you read quietly aloud. 

“E Suj kaamo, e D’ar muuso,” you murmured, your lips gently forming around the familiar words. “Taayta, e K’es.” The Sun rises, the Moon follows. Awaken, the Eclipse. 

The temple seemed to hum around you. 

It was a sudden thing that reverberated in your bones and sunk deeply into your heart. Your head snapped up and you spun around to dart your gaze about. From the still Sun statue to the Moon statue. And then you noticed a light was starting to appear from above—through the hole in the ceiling. You stepped closer to the pedestal so you could look up and through the hole in surprise and awe. The light started off as a faint pink, but as you watched the dark clouds above finally, finally part to make way for the sky, it suddenly deepened into a blood red that spanned across your face. 

Your wonder was replaced by a sinking feeling of horror in a heartbeat as the sun revealed itself, covered by the moon and turning the sky into a deep hue of orange. 

An eclipse. 

Cold washed over your figure. The temple hummed louder around you and shook minutely. You stumbled away from the pedestal, gripping at your pendant tight, tight, tighter as you felt this burning feeling land upon you. What was happening? You had no idea—there was only this sense of dread, so thick and potent that you were getting choked up. You looked at the two statues at your sides again before your gaze finally darted to the one standing in front of you, separated from you by the pedestal. 

Its eyes were wide open—burnt mandarin with tiny void-like pupils. 

And it was staring right at you. 

Your heart skipped a beat. 

In a surge of motion the statue stepped forward—only, it wasn’t a statue anymore. It was a living, breathing being of sorts, with vibrant eyes that lit up half the temple on their own in a hellish glow, and a face and body that was half black and half blood red. Darkness seemed to cling to it, draping along its torso and shoulders. Its arms unfolded from their positions, stretching out stiffly before they pulled up and around its body in a foreboding manner that made you step back. Claws—sharp and wicked—extended from its fingers. It loomed crookedly towards you over the pedestal and seemed to stop, head cocked to the side as it continued to stare at you. 

You froze immediately, the golden light in your hand trembling slightly before it shrunk and disappeared. Its absence made you feel cold, but you couldn’t find it in you to summon it again. You swallowed thickly and watched as the protrusions from the being’s head rippled around it like a wave. Its head rotated in a way that was inhuman. There was something heavy in the air—something that made you press your lips tightly together until you were sure they were nothing but a thin, straight line. 

You were locked in a staring contest with it. One that you weren’t certain how long would last. 

You weren’t sure what it was doing, frozen like that over the pedestal. Maybe it was assessing you like you were assessing it. Your eyes darted about at the slightest of twitches it made in its fingers and its head. Those small, black pupils did not once leave your form. You didn’t know what to do—didn’t know what to say. You had never heard of such a being before. Maybe it was a deity, maybe it wasn’t. Either way, you were dead if you didn’t do something soon. Your bag seemed to weigh heavily against your back. Your muscles tensed. 

And with all the strength you had in your body, you took a small step back. 

Immediately, the being’s pupils dilated until its entire eyes were a midnight hue, cutting off one of the sources of light illuminating the temple. It jerked and shuddered, then seemed to grow even bigger as you stepped back again—towards the temple’s entrance. Its voice cut through the air—deadly, swift—from a mouth that did not exist on its face.

“Käwshka, käwshka!” the being—K’esyo, Eclipse—hissed out in a deep, grating voice that made something drop in the pit of your stomach. He spoke in a language you did not recognize—something ancient that had been lost eons ago from your people. But you didn’t need to understand what he was saying to know that you were in terrible, terrible danger. You scrambled backwards with a yelp and he surged forward, stepping easily over the pedestal and covering the distance you’d made in a few, powerful steps. “J’a syo twe— k-käwshka! Onyi méfe! Shash jawt, shash jaaawt.” 

You wanted to scream, but your voice was caught up in your throat. And before you could spin yourself around on your heel to sprint out of the temple, Eclipse lunged at you. You threw your arms up over your head as though that could protect you and braced yourself for impact.

Only—nothing happened. And after a few seconds of standing there, cowering under your arms, you tentatively peeked through them, wondering if your death had been so swift that you hadn’t even noticed.

Eclipse’s sharp claws were inches before your face, glinting in the blood red light. The sight made your heart hammer in your chest, adrenaline shooting through your veins. You blinked at them, then lowered your arms as you realized he was straining to reach you. But he couldn’t touch you, even as you were before him, doused in his ominous shadow. You gaped up at him, then looked down at your hand clenching the ruby pendant atop your chest. It was slightly aglow. Your grandmother’s words whispered in your ears. 

He couldn’t hurt you. Not when you had your necklace on. 

The thought was oddly empowering. 

Eclipse snarled—a viscous thing that scratched at your ears—and reared back so that snarl could turn into a tumultuous roar. “Mbanpe, mbanpe! Onyi méfe! Shash jawt!” His voice seemed to switch between a rough, deep sound to one that was a bit higher pitched, though still as sharp as a blade’s edge. You backed away slowly as he appeared to fight with himself, bloodlust tinging his every movement. His upper arms grasped at the protrusions on his head while the lower two curled outwards like he was still trying to grab you. “Těmbiiiing. Mahù go mběl— těmbing! Käwshka syo twe p-p-ponkul.” 

He growled frustratedly after a moment, upper hands starting to claw viciously at his head. Perspiration rolled down the side of your face. Whatever was going on with Eclipse, it was certainly nothing you were prepared to deal with. You swallowed thickly and seized a chance where he was distracted with himself to look behind you. The temple’s entrance wasn’t too far away from you. Maybe you could make a run for it—use the shelter of the forest to hide yourself away. 

Resolute in your decision, you glanced back in front of you out of precaution and immediately let out a yelp as Eclipse lunged towards you once again. You ducked down, your arms shielding your head, and watched his shadow pass over your body. Then you lowered your arms and twisted your torso around to stare behind you—through the temple’s entrance that Eclipse had flown through. 

He had landed just outside and was staring up at the sky through the canopies that lay oddly still above him. The red lighting from the eclipse cast everything in a devilish glow, falling upon the leaves and ground in a way that made them look like they were drenched in blood. Your breaths bated, you watched Eclipse jerk and shudder, his arms moving sporadically before he suddenly stilled. His head snapped towards a direction—you could not see his face from your angle—and before you could even blink, he growled and bolted. 

You stared, dumbfounded, at the spot where he had just been. You’d been forgotten just like that, it seemed. But instead of relief, you only felt this mounting sense of horror—so strong that you scrambled to your feet and took off after him, following the sounds he made as he crashed through shrubs and trees alike. Your mind raced as you mapped out the surrounding land in your mind. The Forest of Isdu wasn’t too far from a small, sleepy village that was positioned to the East. The paths and trails that led to it tended to have the occasional passerby or traveler wandering about. Your jaw clenched as you realized the direction he was heading in.

Eclipse couldn’t hurt you, but he could certainly hurt others. 

And you couldn't let that happen.

[orangetintedglasses]

@forgivenpunishment // one taser might not do it, but what about...?

Holding off a wave of people was no small effort.

Keeping an army off the back of another person while throwing yourself in harm's way, regardless of your strength, was something noble. Something that deserved praise, recognition; the undertaker's efforts would not go unnoticed.

... unfortunately for him, though, it wasn't Vash that they wanted. It wasn't Vash that would be swarmed by fully-amped stun batons and tasers and more bodies trickling in, crowding the hall to prevent escape, or even basic movement that might've allowed him to get the upper hand as some old, croaking voice shrieked don't kill him! We need him alive, he's useless to us dead...!

That had been nearly an hour ago, now, though. Trivial. Shouts and crackles of electricity had been replaced by the din of machines; the hum of glaringly bright surgical lights; the slow, steady blip of a heart monitor keeping track of vitals as six men bustled around the surgical table that they'd strapped him to. They'd cut him out of his clothes to save time, as well; naked save for the various nodes and monitors they'd fastened to him, and a clean, white sheet over his hips that went down to mid-thigh.

Was that sparing his dignity, or theirs? It didn't really matter, did it. No, no, what mattered now was how the subject was feeling whenever he came to again--

[katabay]

some kind of. miscellaneous conversation sometime during ac3?? this was actually part of a much longer scene that went in a more serious direction than I originally planned once I started drawing it. I ended up starting over, but I couldnt bring myself to delete the pages I had already started (which is why the dialogue's a little janky bc I decided to redo it before I got to the lettering stage RIP) so I cleaned them up a bit to post :') get some sleep, desmond.

[xxplastic-cubexx]

Charles representation enjoyed here again! I’ve not read much of the comics bc I can’t afford them but I just rewatched FC and I was wondering if Charles being paralyzed is the same in the comics (Erik doing it)? Do they often include that part of his story?

hello my inquisitive friend :] !!!! im more than happy to give some more info bout the origins charles' disability in the comics- to the best of my abilities that is !

while they don't include an origin for his paralysis in EVERY story/run, as far as i know there are three major ways charles loses his mobility (though like yourself, i havent read many of the comics so far, so i could be missing a few. this is the part where i invite readers to submit additional info if im leaving any out)

the very first manner of charles losing his legs was relayed to us in the original X-Men run of the 60's in issue #20

(X-Men #20: "I, Lucifer!")

before magneto was regarded as charles' main adversary there was the extraterrestrial lucifer (who sported the same color scheme, ironically. it wasnt as though lucifer came before magneto so it was definitely A Choice..) who charles would have a semi-reoccurring feud with for a bit early on in the series. during their first encounter, charles would corner lucifer in his lair only to have a stone slab dropped on him, disabling his legs indefinitely

the second manner in which charles loses his mobility- and the time where erik is the most involved and is most deliberate- comes from. Our Favorite Universe in 2001: The Ultimate Universe

(Ultimate X-Men #1: "The Tomorrow People")

as is typically how charles x magneto team-up arcs go, while charles and erik worked together for some time it wasn't very long before erik wanted to pursue more Dramatic Measures for mutantkind. and As This Story Goes, amidst trying to escape the savage lands sanctuary he and erik built, erik drove a metal spike through charles' spine, leading to his disability in this verse

lastly, we have the House of M- or more specifically its prequel miniseries, Civil War: House of M- verse in 2008:

(Civil War: House of M #2: "Revolution")

(Civil War: House of M #3: "Reign")

similar to Ultimate and the movies, this is another timeline where charles and erik team up. this time however, charles is more willing to follow erik's ideas after seeing the horrors of genosha upon reading the mind of a mutant who escaped the island, and the two seek to liberate the other mutants left behind. unfortunately, during their mission, a sentinel collapses the building charles and co. are infiltrating, leading to the loss of his legs

hope you had fun reading- i had fun typing up everything and looking back at these issues :] !

[psychotic-nonsense]

NOW WITH A PART 2 !!!!

Not sure if this is anything, and feel free to critique or add on or clarify and all that, but...

A few weeks post-Starcourt Steve, absolutely wrecked by the Russians and Billy. He's healing, little by little, but he knows he needs to put his pain aside to help out The Party. Especially Robin, who has not been coping with the trauma well. She's taken to spending the night at Steve's most of the time, and they help each other manage. She's not the best with physical comfort, nor is Steve with verbal comfort, but they're managing.

Yet despite the constant offers of help, Steve always refuses to "ask for too much" and often downplays his pain, forcing a smile to keep anyone from worrying. He's bottling up everything - probably handling it worse than Robin, even though he insists he's used to it and knows how to fix himself. Every day he gets a little worse, and every night he brushes off help.

It's during one of these late nights that disaster finds them again. It's Steve and Robin in his living room, and they're just about falling asleep on the couch when the ground begins rumbling, hard. An earthquake, shaking Hawkins and getting the entire Party in a frenzy. The radios are blaring with the kids' voices and Steve's trying to get Robin to stop screaming into the walkie, when suddenly there's a hole opening up in Steve's living room, and the earthquake stops. Steve and Robin go quiet, and the kids are urging for a response as they all rush to meet up at Steve's.

But he and Robin can't speak, too busy staring at the hole. One that looks way too similar to the Gates... but it glows blue instead of the usual red. Steve, ever the protector, is carefully stepping around the hole to grab a fire poker for defense. The second he does, the Party bursts in, just in time to watch the hole suddenly crack open further, sucking Steve in and closing itself behind him-

As Steve Harrington lands in the bedroom of Post-ST3-release 2019 Eddie Munson.

Eddie's living rough, bunking in his childhood friend Ronnie's basement. An orphan, can't hold a job, in his second senior year of high school purely because he knows he has nothing else to do after it. His only source of comfort so far has been DnD - either the DM hosting he does at the local library for the other poor lost suckers, or the one Netflix show with its elements that has captured his heart.

Eddie's a pretty big Stranger Things fan - it has its faults but is otherwise a really fun and interesting show - but ever since ST2, he's especially been a Steve Harrington fan. He feels like he goes mad just thinking about the implications of what that man has gone through, what all those kids have been through, and how Steve has put aside himself to focus on the kids. How much Steve has changed, and how under appreciated he is.

Since binging all of ST3 the day it released, Eddie's had a field day on breaking down this newest reformation of Steve. He adores Robin - clocked her as a lesbian from episode 1 - and loves that Dustin and Erica have been bringing out his bitchy side, while still keeping him in check. The Russian torture and strange parallels with Billy have made him cry on more than one occasion, and Steve's half-high speech in the bathroom legitimately felt like Steve finally acknowledging his change, even if for but a moment.

Ronnie's teased Eddie way too much about his "obvious crush on Joe Keery" but this feels way too personal for him to just be crushing on an actor. This is Eddie falling for the Fallen King of Hawkins himself, and it's much more embarrassing. Steve Harrington becomes his muse in every form of art; drawing, writing, character inspiration and improvisation. The Duffer brothers aren't the greatest at the rest of the show, but they've damn well got this guy down.

Hell, Eddie was halfway to crossing the last personal barrier to outright obsession (x Reader fanfiction) when the earthquake hit. In hindsight it wasn't the worst thing in the world, but Eddie had never experienced one before. He immediately dove right under his bed, covering his ears and curling up in a ball like a coward ("Nancy Wheeler would be ashamed," his weird ass brain supplies). He hears rumbling, things falling over, wood splintering and the world seemingly cracking apart all around him-

When a body suddenly lands hard on his bed with a loud scream of fear, cutting off as the whatever it is rolls straight off to the floor, and the world gives one final strain before going completely silent.

Terrified, Eddie's eyes are shut tight, cowering as the body on the floor just a foot away from him groans and gasps for air. It takes a sudden hiss of pain for Eddie to finally, carefully, crack one eye open.

Only to come eye to eye, through the gaps of his bedsheets, with the very muse he'd just been thinking of. Steve Harrington.

There's an immediate scramble of panic; Eddie bashing his skull into his bed frame trying to get out and away from the obvious hallucination, while Steve wobbles on his feet to defend himself against this strange humanoid Upside Down monster.

"What are you?! Where am I?!"

"What am- Are- You- No, you're not real- JESUS H. CHRIST MAN, GET THAT AWAY FROM ME!"

"I don't know what you're talking about, but you're gonna see how real this is if you don't tell me what's going on!"

"You think I know?! You fell into my room!!"

"Yeah, from your Gate!!"

"WHAT FUCKING GATE- WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT!?"

"I DON'T FUCKING KNOW!!"

That gets them both to shut up, just staring at each other. Eddie pressed up against the wall in fear with his hands up and out wide, Steve with the fire poker pointed straight at his neck and his hand held up cautiously. Eddie sees it, smells blood in the air, and ignoring everything, reaches out for it. Steve jabs at the air with the poker, but it's halfhearted, his energy clearly draining, too exhausted with the whole situation to try much further. Finally his arm drops, but Eddie doesn't move, watching Steve's face crumple in a way that aches everything inside his heart.

"Where am I...?" Steve pleas, tone just as desperate as the one from the Russian bunker, even when lacking its power.

Eddie fumbles for the words, but eventually just sighs. "Somewhere you wouldn't believe, my friend."

High and complacent on adrenaline and shock, Steve and Eddie just move in silence. Eddie grabs a wet cloth to clean the blood, Steve cutting off a bit of his sweatpants to use as gauze. It's just a gash from falling with the fire poker, nothing drastic, but the two stare at the cut in Steve's palm, easier to see than the one who's hand is on theirs.

Introductions are exchanged when they can finally stop shaking, and Eddie somehow drops the bomb on where and when Steve is, and what his entire existence is to this reality. Steve has a very brief existential panic attack about it, but is strangely comforted by Eddie's confidence about it all - "Even without El's powers, those kids are smart as hell. They'll figure out a way to make their own Gate and get you back home."

Then Steve just spends the next week or two in a reality almost 40 years in the future, where he and his entire existence is a sci-fi TV show. Some funny exchanges I've been thinking of:

Steve: Wait, so we're characters in a show, right? That means we have actors.

Eddie: Oh, uh, yeah, you do...

Steve: ...Think I could see them?

Eddie: Uh- Sure, I guess? Not sure what you're expecting, it's a live action thing, they look just like you.

Steve: Never getting used to your future phone... Huh, Joe Keery? Looks like a cool guy- woah, is that what my hair looks like short??

Eddie: Yup, again, literally just you.

Steve: Funny how we both have the most basic names too. Steve and Joe? Like, look at Dustin's actor, what kind of name is Gaten?

Eddie: Rude, the guy plays your little brother.

Steve: Quit bringing your fake show theories into my actual life.

Eddie: It's true though.

Steve: ...Yeah.

----------------

(Steve goes crazy after a few days of being locked in, and begs Eddie to take him out to "see the future." While they're walking around town, a group of girls suddenly freak out and rush them)

"It's Joe Keery! Guys, look it's Steve Harrington, from Stranger Things!!"

(Eddie's halfway to panicking, but Steve immediately handles the situation)

Steve: Sorry to disappoint, ladies, not him. Don't worry though, I've been getting that a lot since the show came out.

"Oh God, I'm so sorry! Hope we didn't make you uncomfortable, mister..."

Steve: Mark, and not at all! I get asked this a lot too, but do you girls want a picture? For bragging rights, getting to meet "The Steve Harrington?"

(They agree, Eddie takes it for them, the girls go on their way)

Eddie whispering: That's gonna be everywhere in 5 seconds, I hope you know.

Steve whispering: Eh, it's a crowd my actor didn't have to deal with. Besides, felt pretty good.

Eddie: Familiar experience?

Steve: For a better reason.

-------------

Steve, showing Eddie's laptop screen open to the FunkoPop website and the Scoops Duo, halfway to tears: They make figurines of me and Robin?

Eddie: Yeah, of all you guys. I've got a little Dustin on my desk.

Steve, beginning to cry from how adorable he finds it: YOU DO?

---------------

(Ronnie comes back from work early while Steve and Eddie are talking in the living room. Eddie freezes as Steve makes eye contact, and Ronnie just stares)

Ronnie: Um, hi?

Steve: Oh, hey! You must be Eddie's roommate, nice to finally meet you! I'm Mark.

(That allows a breath to finally enter and escape Eddie's throat in a bit of a laugh. Steve's really leaning into this Mark persona)

Ronnie: Ronnie, and likewise... Sorry if I'm acting weird, you're just a really good cosplayer. Thought you were actually Steve for a second.

Steve hesitantly: Nah, just a doppleganger.

Ronnie, shrugging and walking away: Well okay then, I'm way too tired to talk much more. Eds, just keep your nerd shit out of the sink-

Eddie: And stay quiet, yeah yeah, go rest, breadwinner.

(Ronnie goes upstairs, out of earshot)

Steve whispering: What's a cosplayer?

Eddie, suddenly also very tired: Tell you later.

I'm thinking that Eddie had sketchbooks, notebooks, and Word Docs absolutely stuffed full of ST character evaluation, which he immediately hid upon Steve's arrival. Maybe Steve gets bored when Eddie's out for whatever reason, and snoops around. That's when he finds it all crammed at the back of Eddie's closet. The kids, Nancy, Jonathan, Robin, Joyce, Hopper, hell Billy and Murray are in the pile. Drawings of them in their adventures, active and mundane alike. Pages upon pages of character description, Eddie's handwriting gushing about the parts of the show and characters he loves, hates, wishes was fixed, all of it.

But the part that gets Steve is one specific sketchbook and notebook, both dubbed the Steven Soliloquy. It's the same type of information as before, but only about him, and it's filled to the brim. Eddie talking about his development, his change of heart, the complete shift that Nancy and the Upside Down and the kids allowed him to have. The affects of his trauma, and how much he stuffed it down in favor of everyone else. Talked about his relationships, ones he cherishes, loathes, never thought of or never got the chance to make. Talked about "AUs," alternative realities where he got everything he ever wanted. Eddie's words, his sketches, devolve into adoration-fueled envy, wishing he could be near such an amazing man, that he was strong enough to be such an amazing man. How much his heart aches for Steve.

And if this were a normal situation, Steve would be uncomfortable, creeped out. But knowing the context of it all, Steve can't help but be enamored. That his family's journey, his entire story of survival - even when fictional to Eddie - is so valued makes it all feel a little more worth it. That there was someone out there during all of their terror, rooting for their victory, crying with their pain, screaming with their fears, understanding them because he lived through it all right beside them.

Eddie finds Steve in his room later that day, surrounded by those books. Staring at what Eddie considers his WIP magnum opus; a half-finished colored pencil recreation of the Last Supper with the entire Party, including all of the people they lost, happy and healthy. Eddie's two seconds from apologizing for how creepy it all must be - seeing how many of those books are open - but then he sees the tears in Steve's eyes. Gratitude and adoration and care, all bundled up and very suddenly staring right at him with the widest smile he's seen.

They talk about it. Eddie finally admits his minor obsession with the show, and how much they've helped him come to terms with being a self-dubbed loser. He honestly gushes way too much about what he owes to them about his life, but Steve listens to it all with complete adoration. At the end of it, Steve asks Eddie about the possibility that they've been adamantly ignoring for Steve's entire stay: actually watching Stranger Things.

And that's how they spend their last week. Starting from season 1, they sit in the living room and binge the entire thing. Steve learns an entirely new perspective about his family's adventures, not only from the show's canon, but from Eddie's theories and rants in between monumental moments. Eddie holds his hand during the scenes that focus on his worst nightmares; the Demogorgan in the Byler home, the breakup, his fight with Billy, the Russians. Steve provides his perspective on how he felt during it all, finally admitting to the pain he's gone through instead of just focusing on the others hoping it'll all go away.

Not sure where exactly it goes from here. Maybe some codependency grows between them. Maybe Steve falls a little in love. Maybe they just stay friends, the only ones who understand each other aside from their Platonic Soulmates.

Maybe, when another earthquake finally hits, opening up a Gate in Ronnie's backyard, Steve and Eddie finally must go their separate ways. Eddie promising to keep watching over them from across the realm, Steve promising to make a happy ending for their story.

Or maybe, Steve can't help but see what little Eddie has, how special Eddie actually is, and offer to bring him along. Into the very show he loves so much. Maybe Eddie convinces Ronnie that he'll be okay, swearing to be entertaining should he join the show in an important way, and making her swear that if he doesn't survive to bring him back in as much fanfiction as she can write. Maybe Eddie enters Hawkins, Indiana, and becomes a bit self aware about being in a TV show. It takes a while for everyone to warm up to the future man - and for Eddie to get used to Midwestern US in the 80s - but he becomes a close member of the Party quite easily. Maybe his involvement in season 4, his death, is avoided, and maybe it's not.

But his adoration for Steve Harrington never goes away. Not in canon, or in fiction.

[naehja]

Ok I'm for the Angst today.

For a little (very) angsty idea.

One day Airplane is very tired and frustrated. His work didn't become like he wanted. He had a lot of lore ideas, of relationships ideas…but people wanter porn. People wanted SQQ to suffer (looks to a certain cumcumber). He ended killing or not using characters he loved (without being able to use his ideas about them). People enjoyed Luo Binghe becoming violent, sadistic, pervert (becoming a r*pist). It's not what he wanted. He wanted to write something else with his characters. He wanted another story. Not THAT. But he needed money and people wanted THAT. But he's so frustrated. His story became something he hates….he hates what it became.

At a point, he listen a potcast about Conan Doyle and how he killed his main character to (try to) end the stories about him. Even if he failed since people wanted so much the character's return that he forced himself to find a way to make him survive and return.

And this famous day, he's so frustrated and disillusioned that he wrote about Luo Binghe's death. Like his demon blood, at a point, start to poison the human parts of his body because he's too powerful with his demon powers and he damage his body without realizing it. He writes how Luo Binghe becomes more and more tired, starts to cough blood, etc. How nothing can help him (no plants, meats, or even s*x).

He even writes lore about half demons to justify what happened. So it would no look like if he just invented it recently but had planned it. And so his book…his story, who became something he hated and was frustrated with, ended with Luo Binghe's death.

Half demons doesn't live long. Being 50/50 is dangerous.

Half Demon Body can't bear the fight between the two egal parts of his being: It's like if his own body was destroying half of his adn.

It's only happen with the Heavenly Demons. So the most powerful ones. Airplane even writes that Binghe's father never thought of the possibilty to have a child with a human so never spoke about those problems with his lover (Binghe's bio mum)

To avoid any reincarnation plot, he evens say that Binghe can't reincarne because demon reincarnation and human reincarnation are differents. And since he's 50/50, he can't use any of them.

Airplane, maybe a little drunk: Ha! fuck you! That's for have forced me to do stupid harem plot rather that all the serious and lore things that i wanted to write! You forced me torture and kill SQQ!! Well i kill Luo Binghe!

Airplane: I wish i could see Cumcumber's face when i'll publish that! In your face Hater =)

He has never the possibility to publish it (like for Shen Jiu's backstory) because he dies and is reincarnated as SQH.

He feels bad about a lot of things. Because SQQ's horrible backstory for exemple.

Everything Airplane wrote about this universe happens, right? The backstory of the characters, the deaths of certains characters…except after Shen Yuan being sent there, things seems to change: SQQ's change of behaviour, LQG is saved, etc…

But the change are not because the story is different but because Shen Yuan takes over SQQ's body. So yeah, some things become more and more differents. But others things stay the same.

And SQH realizes that nothing can change Luo Binghe's fate because he 100% wrote that NOTHING could save him and even wrote LORE to justify that nothing could save him. And that seen how everything happens sooner in this universe....

SQH: Well Fuuuuuck

SQH: …Should i tell Cumcumber bro?

*later*

SQQ: What do you mean, the inevitable death of Luo Binghe is coming in the future? OoO

System: Ask the author :/

[s0ckh3adstudios]

THE PREQUEL FOR THE PREQUEL! The cast of Undertale Blue, and 3 minor characters Flo also encounters at the end who are just as wonderful as everyone else ok. Love them forever

We've got Flo, the grumpy dancer just trying to get home. Ernest, the paranoid conspiracy theorist. Iris, the local doctor with.... definitely helpful solutions. Alexander, an "underground-renowned" thespian who loves to put on a good show. And Marth, an old French moth musician hermit-ing in the deeper cavverns of the underground.

There's also Phil, a beaver who hopes to become the "president" of the underground, and his assistant Tim! And Uisce, a young artist.

Oh, what about Dalv and Kanako? Nahhhh, you don't need to know anything about them <3

Ernest and Alexander were designed by @capt-summer

Iris and Uisce were designed by @silviaflowers

Tim was designed by @atlasdotpng

[fanfic-stories-and-plots]

I do not know if this has been written or not, but if it has please let me know. If it has not, anyone can feel free to write this.

Star Wars plot idea:

Anakin/Obi-Wan pairing

Jedi are not supposed to have attachments. What if Lord Palpatine(Darth Sidious) had secretly ordered someone to spy on the Jedi order. He wants to see if the Jedi has upheld their codes, but finds out some did not. He even finds some in the Council that have not. He uses it to his advantage. He spins these stories in hopes that the public would turn against the Jedi. It works. It works so well, that some had defected. Most notably Qui-Gon and his Padawan, Obi-Wan.

Qui-Gon felt bad after promising Anakin that he would train him as a Jedi.

Starts off during the events of The Phantom Menace.

Up to Author if Qui-Gon lives or not.

Padme and Anakin never get together in this fic. They are just good friends.

[tiptoethewordsgo]

hello gravity falls tumblr, someone write a fanfic where the pines family have to break bill out of rehab to help defeat a greater evil and my life is yours

[avelera]

I definitely don't need more WIPs right not for Dreamling, but sometimes it is fun to brainstorm a total nonsense fanfic-y premise played totally straight, which is why I'm fondly remembering the Cinderella Dreamling AU I brainstormed on one of the servers.

(Canon Divergence AU, because that's how I roll)

2022 rolls around and Hob and Dream are friends. Just... friends. Hob would love there to be more. He sometimes suspects, more like wishes really hard, that Dream would like more but, as usual, the guy isn't talking if he does. And Hob is too chicken to ruin the friendship they finally achieved to do something so uncouth as proposition his oldest friend.

He comes to the sad and perhaps inevitable conclusion that Dream has had all the chances in the world to say something so the only conclusion is that Hob's just not that interesting to him in that way. Stands to reason. The more Hob learns about the Dreaming and Dream's fantastical realm and all his adventures, the more Hob's almost single-minded dedication to living a normal life despite his immortality seems a bit... dull.

Enter Desire. Or Death. Or both. This is fanfic-y nonsense, after all, the point is there is a device and the device is our fairy god-person who is also sick to death of watching Dream pine from afar but is also a huge fan of chaos.

They (let's go with Desire for now, even if the trope is a bit overplayed, because it seems like their sort of thing) offer Hob a proposal. The chance to go into the Dreaming each night to woo Dream. Best of all, it will be with Desire's protection of his identity and a small amount of magic to create a persona for wooing Dream that won't be immediately obvious.

Oh, also, Dream is throwing a big fuck-off bash for Faerie or some other Dreaming ally so there's gonna be a party for weeks up there. Perfect place to slip in a new stranger. (Hob is a little charmed by the idea that he gets to be the stranger for once.)

Enter: the Knight of Roses.

Basically, Hob creates a persona into which he pours all of charm, wit, and courtier's polish from 600s years of life. If nothing else, he's having the time of his life at what is essentially a fancy magical masquerade ball where he gets to try his damndest to sweep Dream off his feet.

And it seems to be working. Hard to tell with Dream. But each night, Dream seems excited to see the Knight of Roses again.

(It is working. It's working very very well. The Dreaming is awash in flowers. Dream spends every waking moment he's not at the ball pacing his quarters, interrogating his subjects as to how in the world he can't get to the bottom of who this is, and every person who could nominally be considered his friend including his siblings and subjects are tearing their hair out with how sick they are of hearing about the Knight of Roses.

Hob doesn't hear about it though in the waking because Dream is in love with him and doesn't want to ruin any chance they might have together someday by agonizing over a mysterious guest who is probably some trick sent by Desire or Lucifer or someone to mess with Dream. He has no idea how right he is and how wrong he is not to bring it up to Hob.)

Secret Identity shenanigans ensue, of course, until we hit a breaking point with drama, tears, etc etc the usual for the trope because of course (gasp!) Hob is the Knight of Roses and there never was any need to create a separate persona because Dream was also agonizing over whether Hob was interested and Hob was so chill around him he assumed he was misreading all the signs. (Hob was working so, so hard to appear that chill around Dream.) Identities are unmasked and everyone lives happily ever after.

(But Hob is keeping the outfit once they're officially together, because Dream really, really liked the romance of the whole Knight of Roses identity but he likes it even more now that he knows it's Hob and not an evil trap laid by one of his enemies.)

[yuureitheghost]

"I can save you." The spider told Martin.

The silver worms wiggled their way inside from every single crack and hole they could find. The ceiling, the vents, the cracks on the wall, the faucet...

There were even maggots coming out from the empty cans of peaches.

Though Martin couldn't tell if they were real or just the beginnings of a hallucination.

At this point, it felt like there was nothing else outside his apartment, just a black void full of worms slowly eating through the walls.

"I can save you." The spider repeated, cleaning its fangs. Its eyes were like big black dots of the cosmos, as if they promised a void with no worms, just a mesmerizing, peaceful quiet.

Martin had run out of food and water a long time ago. Even if the worms didn't reach him, he was sure to die before long.

"I can save you." The spider told Martin. "It will just cost you a small price."

Did he have a choice?

[teecupangel]

Just had a thought about Harpy!Desmond: Birds can't see glass, so would Desmond keep crashing into windows because he thinks they're open? 🤣

Desmond only has problems with clear glass. Most glass he could see because they weren’t that clear.

His favorite was stained glass.

The world beyond stained glass was beautiful in its own way.

Also Desmond could easily go “the world didn’t turn red, that’s stained glass”.

He didn’t even think he had a problem until the third time it happened.

The first time it happened, Desmond just assumed he wasn’t paying attention.

The second time it happened, he just assumed he was distracted.

The third time though?

Something was absolutely wrong at that point.

Desmond finally had to admit that this new body of his had a weakness.

“You can’t see glass?”

Desmond nodded, having went to his ancestor to admit his ‘defeat’.

If anyone could understand the woes of having such a, frankly, embarrassing weakness, it would be his ancestor.

But…

Desmond smacked the hand mirror that was offered to him, enjoying the sound of it breaking apart as it hit the ground as he said, “I said glass, not mirror, asshole.”

The grin on his face made Desmond’s feathers bristle.

He forgot his ancestor tended to be an asshole when he wanted to tease him.

[b4kuch1n]

making of a feathered thing