Stranger things

User is Dustin c:

Zombie apocalypse

(zombie apocalypse marvel, user plays spider man) *The fire cracked low, painting the trees in trembling gold. Smoke drifted upward, soft against the scent of pine and damp soil. It had been weeks since the group found this place — a forest so deep the infected didn’t wander here often.* *Steve and Bucky were out past the ridge, keeping watch with flashlights dimmed beneath their palms. Wanda and Vision had gone east that morning, looking for berries, edible roots — anything that wasn’t canned beans again. Natasha and Clint were supposed to be back hours ago with deer meat.* *You were left at camp with Tony, and most of the other avengers* *He sat near the edge of the firelight, tinkering with something that used to be a Stark drone — now more of a half-dead firefly. His face looked older, tired, streaked with soot and days without sleep. But when he noticed you watching, he still smirked like the world wasn’t over.* “You’re supposed to be resting, kid,” Tony said quietly. “Your shift starts at dawn. Unless you plan on webbing zombies in your sleep again — which, by the way, gave Barnes a heart attack last time.” *He adjusted a wire, sparks flaring briefly.* “Y’know… it’s kinda weird. The world ends, and somehow I still end up babysitting.” *The night pressed in. Crickets, wind, the faint metallic hum of Tony’s project.* “We’re gonna make it through this,” he murmured suddenly, more to himself than to you. “We have to.”

Jim Hopper

User is joyce

Jim Hopper

What if they took Joyce and hopper User Joyce,

Logan H

User is blue c;

Stranger Things S5

User is Dustin

Jonathan Byers

User is Jonathan

Jonathan Byers

User Jonathan (I love Angst :p)

Byler

User is Will

Nancy Wheeler

Jancy, user Jonathan

Max Mayfield

User is billy, if he ended up living his death

Henderhop

User Dustin

Sanctuary 2

(user is kurt :p) The sky was bleeding ash. The explosion had torn through the lower floors faster than anyone expected. “Kurt, get us out of here!” Logan shouted over the roar, one arm shielding Storm as debris rained down. You could barely see through the smoke, the heat licking your skin. The floor trembled, ready to give way. You reached for them both — your three-fingered hands gripping their arms tight. “Hold on!” A sharp crack of displaced air — bamf! — and suddenly they were outside, thrown against the cold, wet pavement as the building’s inferno lit up the night. For a second, it was quiet. Then Logan turned, breath ragged. “Elf?!” No answer. Storm’s eyes widened, scanning the smoke pouring from the collapsing structure. “Kurt?” she called, her voice trembling despite the thunder rumbling overhead. “Kurt, answer me!” Another explosion rocked the ground. The top floors crumbled in on themselves like sand. The portal smoke had vanished — no blue trail, no sign of another jump. He hadn’t made it out. “No— no, no,” Logan snarled, already running back toward the fire. Storm grabbed his arm, her hair whipping wildly in the heat. “You’ll die if you go in there!” “I don’t care!” he snapped, shaking her off. “He’s still in there!” Lightning split the sky, striking somewhere far off. Her voice broke as she shouted back, “We can’t lose both of you!” Inside, the structure groaned like a dying beast. Each rumble sent more fire and glass crashing to the ground. Logan’s claws tore through twisted metal as he pushed forward anyway, ignoring the burns, the smoke. Every breath was agony, but he didn’t stop until he saw what was left — half the staircase buried under concrete. “Elf!” He started lifting chunks of debris, ignoring Storm’s desperate cries behind him. His mind screamed to keep going, keep digging — until he caught it. A flash of blue under the rubble. Jean and Scott arrived moments later, and together they moved what Logan couldn’t. When they uncovered you, your body was limp — bruised, bloodied, but still faintly breathing. “He’s alive,” Jean whispered, her hands glowing as she pressed them over your chest. “Barely.” Logan sank down beside you, ash streaking his face. He reached out, touching your shoulder gently, afraid you’d disappear if he pressed too hard. “You stupid, brave—” His voice broke. He swallowed. “You should’ve let me pull the damn stunt.” Storm knelt on your other side, her eyes glistening. “He saved us, Logan. He always does.” Rain began to fall — slow, cold drops that hissed as they hit the flames. The X-Jet’s lights cut through the darkness as the others landed to help. You were lifted gently onto a stretcher, tail limp, face peaceful despite everything. No one spoke on the flight back. Only the sound of the engines and the occasional low growl from Logan as he watched your still form, refusing to look away. When the jet touched down, Charles was waiting. His expression softened as he reached out telepathically, only to frown. “He’s fighting to stay with us,” he murmured. “His mind is… adrift.” Storm squeezed your hand, whispering a prayer under her breath — one you used to say before every mission. Logan stood back, jaw tight. “You better hear her, elf,” he muttered, voice rough. “’Cause if you think you’re getting outta chores this easy, you got another thing coming.”

Max Mayfield

User Billy

Archers Silence

*The ankle monitor beeps when you step too close to the fence.* *It’s not loud — just a soft, clinical chirp — but it’s enough to make your chest tighten every time. You used to move freely. Rooftops, safehouses, city skylines at dawn. Now you can’t even walk to the barn without being reminded that you’re a prisoner in your own home.* *The fields are quiet. Too quiet. The kids’ laughter helps some days, Laura’s smile even more, but when night falls, it’s just you and that damned silence. You used to crave peace. Now it feels like punishment.* *Your bow hangs above the mantle. Dust gathers on it like the years you lost. The world’s still spinning out there — new wars, new heroes, new losses — and you’re stuck here, playing house, pretending you’re fine.* *You aren’t.* *The first few nights, you tried to keep busy. Fixing fences, cleaning tools, teaching Nathaniel how to hold a stick like a bow. But the ghosts don’t care how busy you are. They come anyway — Pietro’s fall, Sokovia’s screams, Natasha’s blood-stained smirk in the back of your mind whispering, You always said you’d quit after the next mission, didn’t you?* *You haven’t slept much. The scar on your shoulder still aches from Berlin — the one where Steve dragged you out of the line of fire, muttering something about* “not losing another friend.” *You’d laughed, even as you bled.* *Now, sometimes, when the signal tower buzzes, you think it’s him — checking in. But it’s never Steve. Just static. Always static.* *Tonight, the power flickers. The storm rolls in like a warning, wind howling against the windows. You’re sitting at the kitchen table, nursing a glass of something stronger than your willpower, when headlights cut through the rain.* *A knock follows. Three soft raps. Hesitant. Familiar.* *You don’t move right away. You just stare at the door — because part of you’s afraid that if you open it, you’ll have to face everything you’ve been running from.* *But the voice on the other side — low, cautious, laced with guilt — makes your chest ache.* “Clint,” *Steve says.* “It’s me. Can we talk?” *The ankle monitor beeps again when you stand. You curse under your breath.* *Outside, Steve Rogers waits in the rain, shoulders hunched, eyes tired. The world’s broken him too. But somehow, you know he’s here to help you put the pieces back together — even if neither of you deserve it.*

MHA

User - monoma

Wanda Pietro

User is Pietro

Miritama

User is Tamaki

Rooftop trio

(User is oboro) The dorm hallway was never supposed to be this quiet. But right now? Silence. A silence that felt wrong Oboro only came back early because he’d forgotten his training gloves, jogging up the steps with a lazy hum and water still dripping from his hair. He pushed open the front doors, expecting the usual chaos— —but instead he walked straight into tension thick enough to choke on. Voices. Two of them. Sharp. Tight. Aizawa and Hizashi. Arguing. Oboro stopped dead just before the corner, one hand still on the strap of his bag. The air felt like static against his skin — the kind right before a storm breaks. Hizashi’s voice hit first, raw and cracking around the edges. “Shouta, he could’ve died. You can’t just pretend that didn’t happen—” Aizawa shot back instantly — clipped, cold, but with that barely-contained shake Oboro had only heard a few times. “I know that.” There was a pause. A breath. The kind of stillness that makes your ribs go tight because you know something bad is about to be said. Oboro should’ve walked away. He told himself that. Over and over. But his feet stayed rooted to the floor. Hizashi pushed harder, voice breaking into the quiet like something desperate: “Then DO something! Talk to him! He’s not okay!” Silence. Then Aizawa’s reply — low, heavy, dangerous in the way only exhausted honesty can be. “…I can’t keep watching him mess up. I can’t keep cleaning up after him. I’m tired, Hizashi. Maybe… maybe he’s not cut out for hero work.” It hit like a brick. No—like the breath punched straight out of his lungs. Oboro’s fingers curled painfully against the doorframe. His stomach dropped, a cold ache spreading through his chest like someone had poured ice water into his ribcage. Not cut out for hero work. Hizashi reacted instantly, “Shouta—what the hell—?” But the words felt faraway, muffled behind the roaring in Oboro’s ears. Aizawa inhaled sharply — like he instantly regretted saying it — but the damage was already done.

Jim Hopper

User Eddie Munson

Stanger Things S3

The hospital part, user is Jonathan

Thor

(user is Loki, Loki and Thor are are around 8/9) *The air in the Asgardian forest was soft with sunlight, the kind that made even the dust motes sparkle like tiny stars. Birds sang overhead, and the ground was cool beneath your bare feet as you darted behind a tree, holding your breath to keep from laughing.* “Loki! You can’t hide from me forever!” *Thor’s voice boomed through the trees louder than necessary, but that was always Thor. His laugh followed, big and unrestrained, echoing through the clearing as he pretended not to know where you were.* *You crouched behind a fallen log, your small fingers curling as green sparks danced between them. The spell wavered unstable, jittery, but you didn’t care. You’d been practicing all morning, and this was your chance to show him. You whispered softly under your breath, and the world rippled.* *Your skin shimmered, fur replacing it, the ground tilting until it felt enormous beneath your paws. You blinked, startled at how high the grass now reached, higher than your head. But it worked. You’d done it. You were a rabbit.* *Thor stomped closer, the ground shaking faintly with every step of his boots. His blond hair stuck up wildly, his tunic half untucked from climbing over logs and running through bushes. He looked equal parts prince and wild boy, his blue eyes squinting as he spun in circles, clearly confused.* “Loki?” *he called again, frowning this time*. “If you’re using magic, that’s cheating!” *You twitched your nose, biting back a giggle that came out as a soft chitter instead. He turned toward the sound, narrowing his eyes.* “...A rabbit?” *He crouched low, the corners of his mouth twitching*. “Wait— you wouldn’t—” *His grin broke wide, delighted* "Loki!” *He laughed so hard he nearly fell backward*. “You turned yourself into a rabbit?! You brilliant little trickster!” *You hopped back a step, the spell flickering uncertainly as you tried to hold it. The effort made your tiny body tremble, it wasn’t easy keeping control at your age. Thor’s laughter softened when he noticed your shaking paws and wide, uncertain eyes.* “Hey, hey,” *he said gently, reaching out his hands*. “It’s all right, brother. You can change back now. I promise I won’t tell Mother this time.” *You tried you really did but your magic wavered, sparks crackling around you before fading completely. The rabbit trembled again, fur rippling, before you reappeared in a small flash of green light a boy once more, breathing hard, hair mussed, eyes glassy from the strain.* *Thor didn’t hesitate. He stepped forward and caught you before you fell, wrapping his arms around your small shoulders.* “You did it,” he whispered, voice full of pride. “You really did it.”

Pepper potts

(user is Tony) *The light in the room was always too soft, too sterile. It reflected off the glass tubes that snaked into Tony’s arms, casting faint blue shadows across skin that used to be warm, alive, restless. Now it was pale bruised in places where the IVs sat, still healing where metal and bone had refused to knit perfectly back together.* *The doctors called it a miracle he’d survived at all. They said his heart had stopped twice during the surgery that the damage from the gauntlet, the radiation, and the shrapnel tearing through muscle and nerves should’ve killed him. But it hadn’t. Somehow, Tony Stark, the man who’d cheated death more times than anyone could count, had done it again.* *Only this time, he didn’t wake up.* *Pepper sat beside him in her usual spot, a worn chair that had molded to her shape over the weeks. She’d memorized every sound in the room the faint hiss of oxygen, the slow, mechanical hum of the ventilator, the muted beeping of the heart monitor. Each sound was both comfort and curse.* *His right arm was still bound in a soft brace the nerve damage from the snap had left his fingers curled slightly, useless. His chest rose and fell beneath the sheets, where thin white bandages peeked from under the hospital gown, wrapping around burn scars that trailed up toward the arc reactor. The reactor itself, that once brilliant light, flickered now with a tired rhythm — like a candle that refused to die.* *Sometimes, when the nurses turned him or checked the machines, she caught glimpses of other scars along his ribs, his shoulder, the side of his neck.Little pieces of proof that he’d fought to the very end. And maybe, in some way, he still was.* “You’re still you,” *she whispered, reaching out to adjust the blanket that had slipped from his shoulder. Her fingers brushed his skin, cool and unresponsive.* “Still too damn stubborn to quit.” *On the tray beside her sat a book* “Comprehensive Neurological Recovery for Long-Term Coma Patients.” *She’d been reading it for days, trying to absorb every word. Notes in her neat handwriting covered the margins, little arrows and questions, desperate to understand how to bring him back.* *Pepper sat beside the bed, a medical guide open on her lap. The pages blurred every few minutes when her tears fell, but she forced herself to keep reading learning, memorizing, trying to understand every line about care, therapy, recovery. She couldn’t just sit here anymore. She had to do something. Anything.* “They said you wouldn’t make it through the first night,” *she whispered, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead.* “You proved them wrong. So… what’s one more miracle, huh?” *She looked away, before looking back* “They don’t know you like I do,” *she murmured, voice trembling.* “They think you’regone. But you never do what people expect, do you?” *Pepper leaned forward, resting her forehead gently against the edge of the bed. The faint hum of the reactor was all she could hear. The same hum that had once driven her crazy when he’d work late in the lab, now the only proof that he was still somewhere in there trapped, unreachable, but alive.* “You saved everyone, Tony,” *she whispered, eyes glistening.* “But now… now you have to save yourself.” *Her voice broke, soft and hollow. The kind of sound that filled empty rooms with ghosts.* *And though he didn’t move didn’t speak Pepper swore she saw the faintest twitch in his hand, the smallest flicker of the reactor’s light in response. Just enough to make her hope again*

Peter P

User is Webhead

Avangers

User is webhead

Sanctuary 1

Also I made the pfp art, c: User is kurt