#and henry drawing when the lights are flickering

[wibble-wobbegong]

alice wtf is this

[ellethespaceunicorn]

Nothing More Than An Animal

Title: Nothing More Than An Animal

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Henry!Wolverine (Cavillrine) x Female!Reader

Word Count: 2.6K

Summary: After entering a dangerous biker bar alone, you’re almost assaulted. You are saved by a mutant with metal claws who might be more animal than man.

Warnings: alcohol use, swearing, unwanted attention, bar fight, Wolvie being Wolvie, unprotected p-in-v sex, creampie, mention of bodily fluids, claw kink

Beta: @peyton-warren

A/N: The title is taken from this quote from Savage Wolverine #13: “Most people think I'm nothing more than an animal!” Thank you to my amazing beta, Peyton, for giving me this idea in the first place.

Dividers by me

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

My Masterlist

You couldn’t help yourself. You stand across the street from the biker bar, a flickering streetlamp above you casting an off-white haze. The only thing keeping you from entering the establishment is your sense of self-preservation. This place, Torque Tavern, screams danger. But that only draws you in further.

You’re dressed in your usual style: your favorite Joan Jett shirt with the sleeves cut off, a denim jacket, a pair of figure-hugging black jeans, and a pair of Doc Martens boots. While normally you walk around with a sense of power, tonight was different.

A chill in the air makes you wrap your arms around yourself. You step off the curb into a dirty puddle, crossing the street after looking both ways. With your hand on the bar door, you pull it open and step inside.

The smell of stale beer and tobacco smoke hits your nostrils as the door closes behind you. A dozen heads turn to you, and your heart pounds. You look across the dimly lit room and notice one person who hasn’t paid you any attention, sitting on a stool at the L-shaped bar. You walk up and sit on a stool, a couple of seats away from the large man.

While you wait for the bartender to attend to you, you peek at the behemoth that sits near you. Wild, dark hair that comes to a point on each side, bushy sideburns, and a non-connecting beard outline his face. A white tank top stretches across his wide, thick frame. Bulbous, sweaty biceps glisten in the glow of the lights behind the bar. Hairy, veiny forearms lead down to strong hands: one grips around a lowball of amber liquid so tight that his knuckles are white, and the other balances a fat cigar between two fingers.

“Take a picture, bub, it’ll last longer,” the stranger says, letting out a plume of smoke from his chapped lips before turning his tidepool blue eyes on you.

After a few seconds that feel like minutes, you’re finally able to turn around and look away, mumbling an apology. You can still feel his eyes on you for a bit before he turns back to his drink and his solitude.

Your eyes shoot up once the bartender knocks on the bartop in front of you. “What’ll you have?”

“Uh, yeah. Moosehead and a shot of J.P. Wiser’s,” you reply, unsurprised when the bartender raises a brow at you. He then shrugs, cracks open a bottle of lager, and sets it in front of you. Grabbing a shot glass, he pours you a bit of the blended whiskey.

As soon as the light golden liquor is pushed toward you, you lift it and inhale the vanilla aroma. Tossing it back, the taste of licorice and cinnamon cascades over your tongue and down your throat. You exhale the burn and turn your attention to your lager.

You notice the murmurs behind you. A chair is pushed away from a table, and heavy boots are walking up behind you. A strong hand lands on your shoulder, and you freeze. “Hey, doll. Can I buy you a drink?”

You hold up your beer and decline, “I’m fine, honey.”

“Aw, come on. Just one drink. Promise I don’t bite, ‘less you want me to,” the source of the voice laughs, coming around to lean on the bar between you and the cigar-smoking stranger, his bald head glistening in the low light as he strokes his long, scraggly beard. His beer belly is barely contained in a Limp Bizkit shirt. This man is a walking red flag, and you roll your eyes and shake your head.

“Look, pal. Let me enjoy the drink I have, ok? This is my one fucking night off this week, and I’m not in the mood to let you ruin it with any of your shitty pick-up lines or the promise of hanging out with you and the rest of the rejects from Sons of Anarchy, got it?” You surprised yourself by bellowing these words to a stranger, one who could probably benchpress you with ease.

You flinch as his expression turns dark and he raises a hand. “You stuck-up little bitch, I ought to—”

The cigar-smoking stranger interrupts, seizing him by the throat and lifting him effortlessly off the ground as if he were a mere feather. While holding him aloft with one hand, the other hand balls into a fist while sharp blades appear from his knuckles.

He’s a mutant! You’d never seen anyone use their abilities up close, but now a man with incredible strength and metal claws is gallantly defending your honor.

“I think the lady has everything she needs, so why don’t you and your little friends scurry along before I get really angry and carve you up in front of everyone, eh?”

The sound of a pump-action shotgun being cocked has every head whipping to the bartender. “Get out of my bar, freak!”

The mutant simply turns and deposits the asshole on the ground in a crumpled mess. Blowing another puff of smoke into the ceiling, he throws back the rest of his drink before grabbing a bottle of whiskey from behind the bar and walking out. Halfway to the door, he turns to you and asks, “You coming or what, bub?”

You couldn’t scramble off your stool quick enough after he challenged you to follow him. Stepping over the man left on the floor, you scurry after your mutant savior. Once back in the night air, you look over as he stuffs the bottle into the storage of his Harley-Davidson. As he swings his leg over the bike and settles into the seat, you can't help but notice the bike sagging under his weight, as if he weighs a ton.

He turns back to his storage, taking out a helmet and holding it out to you. You’ve seen enough movies to know that riding with a stranger is a dumb idea. However, if that mysterious stranger happens to be attractive and cruising on a Harley, who could resist the allure of a thrilling adventure?

Taking the helmet, you pull it down over your head and lift a leg to get onto the bike behind him. As he turns the key, you clench your thighs at the vibration and wrap your arms around his waist.

“You don’t have to hold me so tight,” he informs.

“Oh, this isn’t tight," you remark, suddenly realizing that you don't know what to call this man. You offer your name, and he repeats it before giving his own.

“The name’s Logan.” He drops his cigar butt on the asphalt and stubs it out with his boot before putting up the kickstand and backing out of the parking spot. He revs the engine, and you are off on your way to wherever Logan wants to take you.

The drive is smooth, the city whizzing past you as Logan speeds down the highway. You end up at a garage that houses a few more Harleys in various states of repair. Logan puts the kickstand down and lets you get off the bike first. He watches as you take off the helmet and look around at where he’s taken you.

Exiting the bike, he takes the helmet when you hold it out to him. You don’t miss the way his fingers lingered on yours for a beat. He takes the bottle out of his bike pack and takes a hefty swig, then hands it to you.

You read the label, ‘Forty Creek Confederation Oak’, and put the bottle to your lips. Tipping it, you are delighted to taste the honey flavor. Handing him the bottle, you hold the liquor in your mouth until it starts to burn, and then you swallow and exhale the nutty finish.

He appears to be quite taken aback that you managed to drink without gagging, and his intrigue deepens as you begin to move closer into his personal space. The warmth in your chest from the alcohol has you feeling full and content. The heat coming off of his body as you stand close enough to breathe in his air has you feeling something completely overwhelming: pheromone-induced arousal.

Your libido is making itself known as you watch him watch you. Unable to stop your hands, they find themselves smoothing up his tank-covered torso until you tug at the collar. He gets the hint and sets the bottle down before removing his shirt.

You encounter a soft, furry chest that invites you to sink your fingers into its warmth. Tightening your digits in the hair on his pretty pecs, you revel in the growl he makes. He then levels the playing field, grabbing you by the nape of the neck with one large paw and bringing your face to his.

As you part your lips, a soft whimper slips out, unable to be contained, while he teasingly brushes his tongue against your lower lip. Growling again, he dips further to slot your mouth with his. He devours the moans that come out of you as he grabs a handful of your ass, chuckling into the kiss as you let him take the lead. His tongue licks into your mouth, and you feel drunk on his whiskey-laden kiss.

Breaking the kiss, he pushes down on your shoulders until you are kneeling at his feet. You start to unfasten his tight-fitting jeans, but he swats your hands away.

“Not yet, bub,” he warns. “I wanna try something.”

With that, he has you pass him the bottle. He takes a drink and then holds your cheek against his denim-covered cock. You can sense that he’s packing quite a surprise down there, and you’re eagerly anticipating the moment it’s unleashed.

“Eyes on me,” he commands.

You watch as he takes the bottle and pours about a shot’s worth of liquor over his chest. Watching as the liquid washes over him, you are more than eager to taste it directly from his skin. After you’ve cleaned his chest of all traces, he takes another drink. This time, he holds your face by the jaw and leans down, spitting the whiskey directly into your mouth.

You gulp it down eagerly, on the verge of pleading for another sip, when he scoops you up from the ground and twirls you around, positioning you over the bike you arrived on. He yanks down your jeans, your panties going with them. He lands a slap on each cheek before you hear him unzip his pants and feel his heavy dick teasing your clit.

He kicks your legs open further, pulls your denim jacket off, and lines himself up with your soaked entrance. Sliding in, he hisses at the heat of your tightness. You whine at his girth, stretching you more than any other cock you’ve ever taken. Once he bottoms out, the tip kisses your cervix, and his hairy ball sac rests against your puffy pussy. He pauses to let you get used to his size, but as he continues to take his time, it seems he is just tormenting you.

“Logan, please. Need you to move,” you plead, wiggling your hips to get any kind of friction.

You don’t see the toothy grin that covers his face, but you know by the way he tightens his grip on your hips that he is about to fuck you ten ways from Sunday.

Gradually withdrawing his hips, he eases out until only the tip of his shaft stays nestled within you, and then he thrusts back in with force. Doing it again, and then again, he pauses after each thrust to tease you. But on the third plunge, he doesn’t stop; he just keeps driving into you.

The rhythmic sounds of your sweat-soaked skin colliding form a captivating tune, harmonizing with the slick, squelching rhythm of his thrusts deep inside you. Coupled with Logan's deep, primal growls and your breathy moans, it creates an intoxicating symphony of desire.

You sense one of his hands sliding away from your hip, pushing your top up your back, and then a sharp SNIKT! pierces the air. You almost turn to inquire where the sound came from, but you soon feel something razor-sharp and hot to the touch sliding down your back. Once you realize that he’s touching you with his claws, you’re overcome with arousal, and your walls flutter around him. He fucks you through your orgasm and retracts his claws.

He slows his hips, pulling out and moving you both over to a nearby armchair. Sitting down first, he crooks a finger at you, and you remove your jeans and boots before straddling his hips. As you lower yourself onto him, you feel him fill you once more, the sensation overwhelming as you settle in.

You close your eyes and begin to ride him slower than before. Before you know it, you feel hot steel, or what you assume to be steel, at your neck and open your eyes to see his fist a few inches from your face. The claws, held within a millimeter of your jugular, glide across your skin.

“Hey, bub? You gonna keep pussyfooting around, or are you gonna ride this cock like the good little slut I know you are?” He asks, his pupils dilated until there is barely any blue left.

Your mouth opens and closes, but there is no sound coming out besides whimpers of fear that he might push those claws through your neck. Honestly, it added an extra little something to the experience, feeling that he might cut you at any moment.

The claws disappear back into the skin between his knuckles, and instead, he wraps a hand around your neck, guiding you to ride his length exactly as he wants. Your hands hold his thick wrist as you impale yourself over and over again.

“That’s it. Ride my cock just like that,” he praises, sticking two fingers in your mouth that you gluttonously suck. He locks his gaze on yours while you reach another peak of pleasure, your inner walls tightening around him as you release a wave of warmth that cascades down his length and between his legs.

When you threaten to slow down, he fucks into you, chasing his release. At this point, you are drooling over his fingers and looking like the fucked-out little doll that you are. You can tell that he is close as his hips stutter and his brows furrow as he removes his fingers from your mouth.

“Come inside me, Logan. Want it, need it so bad,” you beg, moving your hips as he drives into you with an intensity that leaves you breathless. He lets out a throaty growl and buries himself to the hilt inside of you. Feeling him twitch inside you, rope after rope of his cum painting your cervix, you reach back and play with his balls.

It’s minutes before his cock softens enough to slip out of you, and you rest your head on his chest as his jizz drips from your thoroughly used hole. To your astonishment, his hand rises to gently stroke your back while you find yourself gripping his chest hair.

Little did you know, this was only round one with the big lug. He’ll let you get some shut-eye for now, but later? He’d like to fuck you on every available surface in his garage. And what he wants, he always gets.

A/N: I intentionally used a line from the X-Men (2000), but then failed at “Chekov’s Gun” sort of. But this story only has two acts. So, fuck Chekov. I hope you all enjoyed my little fuckfest here, and please do let me know what you thought!! Writers are fed by comments!

**Tag List**

@littlefreya @mrs-solo-walker @viking-raider

Let me know if you want to be added (or removed). 😁

[willbyersabyss]

El's Quadruple Piggyback

El piggybacked into four minds in the finale. But who is the fourth?

This is the sign that created El's piggybacking plan. There are four people. The little girl represents El, the mom represents Max, and the little boy is Henry/Vecna. Who does the other person represent? Everyone else on this sign is facing forwards while the man is facing the back, but his face is scratched out. His identity is being omitted, yet he stands out from the others. He's important.

He's Will.

The man on the sign is in a striped shirt and brown pants. Every single outfit Will wore in s4 had some kind of striped shirt, whether it be normal stripes or plaid. His pants for the majority of the season were brown too! The physical features of the other people on the sign hint at their mind counterparts. The girl has a white dress with a pattern like El's finale shirt, the woman has red hair like Max, and the boy has blonde hair like older Henry. I don't think it would be crazy to say Will's stripes and pants hint at him being the fourth person.

When El first draws Max and Vecna, the mind bubble goes directly above Will. Worth noting that El is right-handed, so her hand would naturally draw the bubble on her right (our left), which would place the bubble above Argyle, but they had her draw it above Will. This was intentional!

As I said in the previous post about this drawing, this means that Max and Vecna were in Will's mind at some point during the finale, but El was there too. Will is the fourth person El piggybacked to, as the road sign hinted.

The sign says the scenic route is at the next right. In s2, Will senses Hopper with his hive mind powers and tells Joyce to turn right. In the other scenes where someone tells someone else to make an abrupt turn, they always say to turn left. Will’s is the only right turn.

Will is constantly on the right of the shot when El is piggybacking. Even after she finishes piggybacking, Will is still always on the right. He is the scenic route on the next right!

Well that's... interesting. El said the exact same thing to Max that she said to Will in s1. Max was already inside of her own mind thanks to Vecna here, so what if Will was too? After El says this to Will, his eyes shut and he moves his eyes under his eyelids just like he does when he's possessed by the Mind Flayer. Will is in his mind... but he's awake in the Upside Down? Almost as if the UD is his mind.

When El actually starts entering Max's skatepark memory and in turn entering her mind, we see the group as the lights flicker. Then they cut to Will. Will is the only one who gets an individual shot at this point. Why is he important? Why would he be the focus as El is entering Max's mind? Maybe because she's entering his too...

From this point on, Will generally starts acting a little weird. He's just quietly sitting there, but they keep focusing on him for no reason.

Will is the one to ask El if she sees anything weird in Max's memory. Funny because right after Will asks this, Max's Snow Ball memory starts to rot and spores from the UD come out of nowhere. Are you causing the weirdness Will? Hm?

By the way, the spores are NOT a characteristic of Vecna's mindscape. They aren't in his red mind world at all. They also aren’t from Dimension X (the yellow dimension). So that rules out the spores being a Vecna mind thing. It's 100% from the UD and it’s unique to the UD. Not a dimension thing, not a Mind Flayer thing, not a Vecna thing. An Upside Down thing.

This is Will's reaction right after Argyle says "A memory within a memory?" Why does Will start to look sad and contemplative after a double memory mention? Are Max's memories also within Will's memories? I think so. I've said this a million times before, but the Snow Ball decorations in the Upside Down are from Max's memory! Max's mind is combining with the UD. Why? The UD is the fourth piggyback person's mindscape.

What was the point of the freezer line? To be silly goosey funny? Maybe. Or maybe we are meant to feel... cold. Cold like the UD. El is in a freezer, she's technically in the UD. Because? The UD is Will's mindscape.

Right as Mike starts to say this line, they cut to Will. Yeah they're really hammering in Will's involvement with the whole piggyback thing. He's in there too!

But wouldn't Will feel everyone in his mind if this were the case? Nope! Max had no clue El was in her mind until she was flinging Vecna across the room. Safe to say Will didn’t feel them during the fight either. Or maybe he did and his quiet, off-putting behavior this entire episode is related to that...

And so El's fourth piggyback partner mystery is solved! El wasn't just in Max and Vecna's minds, she was in Will's too.

[tildeathiwillwrite]

Changing of the Guard, Part 2

WoW Birthday Whump Day 13: Natural disaster / Shock collar / "Shut up!"

Prompt List

first part

TW: imprisoned, electrocution, earthquake

Context: It has been several weeks since Henry has been appointed as Dragon Keeper. Arcturus has come to value their friendship. But the magic designed to keep Arcturus imprisoned might be stronger than Henry had anticipated.

-----

It wasn’t the distant rumbling that signaled to Arcturus that something was off. He was used to inexplicable phenomena in a world where wizards could conjure storms and create fire with nothing but a source to draw from. Earthquakes were uncommon in the valley, sure, but not unheard of.

It was when Henry arrived hours before he was supposed to.

During the weeks since his appointment as Dragon Keeper, Arcturus had gotten to know Henry quite well. More than he had any of his previous Keepers. And the boy had not raised his hand against Arcturus. Not once.

He had a good heart.

Surprising, given the upbringing Arcturus had come to expect of the Order. But such was the passage of time for humans. Death came knocking, and new generations replaced the old, removed from the reasons for their ideologies. And so cultures change. Such a thing was obvious to someone with a longer lifespan, such as Arcturus. But anyone who’s studied history can come to the same conclusion. 

From what Henry had told him during their visits, it was pure luck which resulted in his appointment. He was one of many apprenticed wizards, never even set his sights on Dragon Keeper. But when Lars fell ill, the Order drew lots among the apprentices. It was clear by their actions they did not understand what sort of person was expected to be a Dragon Keeper.

In a way, Arcturus pitied Henry as much as Henry seemed to pity Arcturus. The boy was a black swan among his predecessors. It was only a matter of time before one of the more rigid members noticed his milder disposition. 

So the first thing on Arcturus’ mind when Henry entered the cavern, long before the day had elapsed, was that the Order had discovered what was happening.

“What are you doing here?” Arcturus asked softly.

The boy hesitated, the golden light floating above his hand flickering briefly before stabilizing. He’d gotten better at keeping his magic from reacting to his emotions under Arcturus’ guidance, but he still had far to go. “An earthquake has struck the valley,” he said, “I was sent to make sure you haven’t caused it.”

Arcturus snorted, wisps of smoke puffing from his nostrils. “These chains greatly hamper my magic. I might be able to shake my cavern, but not the entire valley to such magnitude. You know this. Why are you really here?”

Henry was silent for a long time. Far away, deep in the valley, the earthquake continued. The vibrations reaching Arcturus’ prison were pitiful, but it must truly be devastating if he could sense it even at this distance.

“I’ve decided,” the boy finally said, his light brightening, “that we are leaving.”

Arcturus blinked in surprise. “Leaving? We?!” It had been a long, long time since he’d been rendered nearly speechless from shock.

“Yes,” was Henry's response before he crossed the cavern, purpose in his stride. Arcturus watched him carefully. Was this some sort of trick? As the thought crossed his mind, Henry reached Arcturus and put his hands on the chains. He murmured the words to a disintegration spell, one Arcturus hadn’t heard in many, many years.

As the chain crumbled into dust, it glowed with electricity, a last-ditch effort in case of escape. The pain that followed was like a thousand sharp needles digging underneath Arcturus’ scales, burning across his body like wildfire. His muscles spasmed, and he could only watch as Henry crumpled to the floor, shaking and thrashing, the scent of burning flesh heavy in the air.

The shock passed as soon as it had begun, and Arcturus lay limp, focusing on his breathing and trying to remember the spells for healing. The chains were designed specifically for him, they would have released enough electricity to incapacitate him.

The boy had taken most of the bolt upon himself. He wouldn’t survive without intervention. 

And Arcturus would rather spend an eternity imprisoned than do nothing for the first human he ever considered a friend. The words of a healing spell fell from his lips as he struggled to get off the ground. The magic flowed around Henry, mending the damaged skin of his hands and sinking into his body. His muscles relaxed, and his breathing eased as the magic put him into a healing sleep. When he awoke, his memory would be the only thing remaining of the injury.

Arcturus didn’t dare do the same for himself. With Henry now incapacitated, it was up to him to get them both out. He gently picked up the boy in one of his claws and, for the first time in decades, walked along the tunnel to the outside world.

It was snowing, the tiny frozen droplets cold against his scales. Far below, the grove in the valley shook, still affected by the earthquake. Arcturus breathed the freezing air in for several moments before setting his sights south and spreading his wings to their full span.

How good it felt to finally stretch them out after all these years! He doubted he would get very far on them, weak as they were, but it would be far enough. The Order would never find them again.

“Don’t worry, Henry,” he said softly to the sleeping boy, “we’re going home.”

@fourwingedsnake @whumperofworlds

[erikiara80]

A beautiful Byler-Polivia parallel, Will's truesight and other parallels with Fringe

I said I could make 50 posts after my rewatch of S4. I'm gonna start with the parallels with one of my favorite shows. Let's go! @lilitblaukatz

Olivia Dunham is Subject 13, and she has the ability to see and travel to the parallel world. In ST there are many mentions of number 13, and imo that's a hint that there are different timelines (not actual parallel worlds) and we've been seen them since the very first episode. In fact, Will mentions the number 13 in the first scene of the show.

Will-Olivia parallels

It was a seven. I read many theories about this moment and Mike's strange reaction. That maybe Will is in a Vecna vision, and that's why the lights flicker and "Mike" doesn't know what he is talking about.

Well, I think Vecna is spying Will; those eyes on the skis behing Mike! I think this detail proves that Will's abduction wasn't a coincidence.

But if this Mike is actually Vecna, shouldn't he know about the game and the Demogorgon? He can read minds, wouldn't he at least try to smile?

Then I remembered why this scene seemed familiar. It reminds me of a scene of Fringe, ep 3x15, when Olivia, who can't control her powers yet, travels to the parallel world and for a moment sees the other Dr Bishop, who is quite surprised by what she says.

(in 3x15 Olivia also meets Peter for the first time)

So, I don't know, maybe Will does have a Vecna vision later, at home. But when he talks to Mike, I think he's seeing a Mike from another timeline/or he ended up in another timeline (because the gate just opened?) I don't know. Maybe a timeline where Karen interrupted the campaign earlier, or Will rolled the dice and won. That would explain Mike's confusion, and the flickering lights.

And now I'm thinking about other parallels

The zeppelin and the Rainbowship

The first time Olivia sees the parallel world, she draws this

What if Will didn't just imagine the Rainbowship, but drew what he SAW, like he drew the vines?

Nina kinda looks like a little spaceship, so, maybe... I don't believe what Owens said. I think they were already using the silos before El lost her powers.

(EDIT: Spoilers of The First Shadow- Now we know that in 1943, the ship of Brenner's father wound up in Dimension X, during the Philadelphia Experiment, which was connected to the Rainbow Project. So, maybe Will's Rainbowship is a reference to that and a hint at different timelines)

But back to Olivia and Will. Here she's drawing while the adults are talking about her, and Will is drawing while Joyce and Hopper are talking with Owens, who gives major Walter Bishop vibes, and even has a son named Peter.

Byler and Polivia, the parallel of their first meeting

The Rainbowship is mentioned in the shed scene, the same scene in which Mike reminds Will of the first time they met.

In 3x15 Olivia draws the zeppeling, and in the same episode Peter finds her sketchbook and sees her drawing of the field of white tulips. Her drawings, that are connected to her powers and visions, help him to find her. And this is a beautiful parallel with Will and Mike, because Peter's life changes when she meets Olivia. They talk about her abusive father (in the shed scene Jon mentions Lonnie) and it's after they talk in that field that Peter decides to accept his new family and his new life.

Asking Will to be his friend is the best thing Mike has ever done, and their lives changed too, when they met.

I don't think there are parallel worlds in ST, just different timelines, because for some reason they're stuck in a loop. They mention time loops a few times, and Max even mentions it when they are in Henry's house.

In S2 Nancy tells Murray that his timeline is wrong, and in his letter Hopper says that you can't turn back the clock... But then Henry does it in the flashback. There's also this Back to the future line: The appropriate question is 'When the hell are they?'

And if there's really a time loop, I think Will and Henry can see other timelines or maybe the timelines are merging? There are so many hints.

From Will's Marty Mcfly outfit in S1, to Henry seeing the Mind Flayer when he was a kid. The crystal ball in the Will the Wise drawing, used by clairvoyants, the Forever Clock that Dustin gives to Will, Will's name engraved on the grandfather clock and him saying, in his Will the Wise outfit, that he's seen into the future. If they're stuck in a time loop, then the future is actually the past, since the story has repeated itself many times. Steve and Robin even mention the whole going back to future/present thing.

In 4x01 El says that they're all time travellers, so yeah, if Olivia can see and travel to a parallel world, maybe in ST people can see (or travel to) different timelines of the timeloop.

Eleven, Twelve and Thirteen

In the Nina scenes I noticed that Thirteen is often in the frame with El or Twelve (who I think represents Will). At first I didn't understand why. She never speaks or interacts with El. And I didn't know why they cast a girl that looks like young Millie. The actress said that the crew kept telling her that she looked like Millie, and before S4 many fans speculated that she would play El. Everything means something in this show, and the casting is always on point, so I thought maybe they want us to notice something? Then I remembered that Olivia was Subject 13.

So that kid could be a subtle hint that we're seeing different timelines in Nina. From the beginning, when El wakes up and see the rooms of Four and Nine. 4+9=13

Twelve and Thirteen

Twelve and Thirteen in the Rainbow Room. It's interesting that in both these scenes they focus on 12, "Will", and 13, who looks like little El, after they show the twins. Willel, twins, and different timelines...

Brenner and Thirteen's room

Thirteen and Eleven (and Twelve)

I really think that Thirteen is a reference to Olivia, and since Olivia can see parallel worlds, maybe this is a hint at the ability to see/travel to other timelines. I already thought that El was seeing different timelines, and that she was actually there, with her mind, but this is a nice detail.

*Another interesting 13 mention. The 13th birthday of a kid named Georgie. George, like George Smith in the play? We know that Will's birthday is important, and since this scene is about his parents, I think this mention is connected to both Will and Henry/Edward

Hm, a bit lost, because of other timelines/a time loop?

Anyway, I love Fringe and I love that ST has so many parallels with such a beautiful story.

[rebelspykatie]

that green light, i want it

Part 7

There’s a sickening silence that follows his declaration. It takes a beat too long for Steve to respond, and the satisfied grin on Henry’s face says that confession hit home, effectively shocking Steve into silence, as though he has to be the smartest person in the room. Eddie hates him. 

But Steve shakes his head, like he’s trying to clear the air, and says, “It doesn’t matter what I am. Where is Nancy?”

“Oh, I haven’t harmed your girlfriend, Steven.” He tilts his head again. A sickening feeling settles in his gut that Henry is somehow ten steps ahead of them. “She’s not what I want, she’s just an easy target. All you humans are so simple in your desires. So foolish how you go about things, when you should just take. You think what you are isn’t important, but it’s the only thing that matters.” 

Steve’s hands flare up green again, tightly balled up fists at his sides, as if he’s holding back from unleashing his fury. But for the first time, Eddie notices how the ground around them is alive, too. It’s so subtle he wouldn’t have seen it unless he was really looking, but the grass within the forcefield is standing at attention, like the hairs on the back of your neck when you’re frightened. They wilt back down when Steve gets control and his hands flicker out. Huh.

One glance at Henry tells him he’s just as intrigued, a glimmer of hunger in the depths of his unwavering stare. He’ll do anything to keep this man away from Steve. Conceivably, it’s idiotic. To throw himself into danger for someone he just met, but while Henry confirmed Steve is more powerful than even he knew, Steve is also vulnerable. A sheep in the lion’s den. And Eddie’s always protected defenseless sheep.  

“Why is it always a game with you? Why don’t you ever just say what you mean?” Steve huffs out, clearly frustrated. Eddie is too, even if there’s this dreadful part of his brain that’s delighted to witness a true villain monologue happening like he’s been dropped straight into his own horrifically crafted dnd campaign. 

“Haven’t you been listening?” Henry’s ghoulish smile reappears. “Your power is the only thing that matters. Killing that girl was a fool’s errand. That ritual is child’s play in comparison to draining a druid. Isn’t it wonderful how the universe provides?” Every word out of his mouth increasingly more erratic, “I thought I had it all figured out. Sacrifice the girl and get the power. But, no. It didn’t work, I thought perhaps I had miscalculated, but really the universe was trying to give me something better. Something more than a useless child and useless witch. You.”

And before Eddie can stop himself, the words come tumbling out of his mouth. “But you did miscalculate.” His heart is both thumping in his chest and altogether trying to stop. Why would he say that? Why would he draw attention to himself like that in front of someone who’s clearly unhinged?

Steve’s head turns infinitesimally to the side, barely noticeable, when Henry's attention snaps to Eddie, like they both forgot he was there. 

“Seems your friend is just as foolish as you are, Steven.”

“I’m a fucking idiot, but so are you, you pale asshole.” Steve tenses under his hands in warning. May as well go all in. “You did miscalculate. Barb wasn’t a virgin, that’s why your sacrifice didn’t work.” He waves one hand in the air, scoffing, “Not because the universe is trying to reward your shitty behavior.” 

“I don’t even know who you are,” Henry growls, moving forward as if to step off the porch towards them, “I could snap your neck wi-”

A few things happen all at once, and Eddie will never get to hear the end of that sentence. Henry is frozen in place, body jerking unnaturally, throat convulsing and eyes frantic, looking lost as he sees Steve’s hands their natural color, no green to be seen. No, purple is the shade surrounding Henry, snaking up like vines around his wrists, chaining him down. 

Eddie’s confused too, until two people step out from behind Henry and come into focus. One is a woman Eddie’s never seen before, but Steve lets out a cry of Nance that gives her away, with purple ebbing and flowing from her hands, eyes gleaming in the starlight like little galaxies as she holds Henry in place. 

The other Eddie knows, a little too well, from his days dealing before he could get a better job. Hopper is holding out a gun, pointing it directly at Henry’s head and scanning their surroundings for any other threats. He’s never been happier to see a cop. 

“Hopper?” Eddie asks incredulously, wondering how he got involved in all of this. 

“Munson,” Hopper gives him one of his deadpan stares for a beat, before nodding at Steve. “Harrington. Thanks for the tip.” 

“Did you get what you needed?” Steve asks. Hopper nods again and Steve’s shoulders finally relax, letting out a long exhale. His attention switches to Nancy. “Nance, you okay?” 

“I’m fine, but I can’t hold him for much longer.” She’s visibly trembling, the magic coursing through her entire body, weakening her. Even Eddie can see the dark circles under her eyes and the gaunt appearance of her skin illuminated by her magic.

The forcefield around them winks out of existence as Steve rushes to help, but it’s too late. Nancy’s magic flickers.

It happens in less than a second but to Eddie, time slows down. A ring of purple flares like the sun reflecting in a pond, blinding for just a moment, and Nancy’s gone, collapsing in a pile of limbs. A rag doll that a little girl casually tossed aside when she was done playing. Fitting for them being pawns in whatever game Henry was playing. 

Steve lunges and Eddie’s not sure if it’s towards Henry or Nancy, but he’s too far away to make a difference, not thinking clearly enough to use the magic at his fingertips, even though they’re lit up like sparklers. 

But it doesn’t matter, because Hopper’s gun goes off. Two rapid resounding shots, echoing in the calm night The only sound besides an answering howl from a distant dog. 

It doesn’t happen exactly like the movies. Henry doesn’t ricochet back and collapse dramatically. His head only jerks back a few inches before he falls to his knees, two bullets lodged in his skull. He doesn’t have any last fleeting words he can depart. One moment he’s alive, the next, dead. No remorse there.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight | Part Nine | Epilogue | AO3

[aemiron-main]

Making Kids Kill Cats: Digging Into Brenner vs the Shadow

So, I already talked about the shadow voice vs Brenner’s voice and how similar they are.

As well as the the Mindflayer/shadow drawing being held in front of Brenner’s face:

But I also find it very interesting that the shadow made Henry kill a cat (Claudia’s cat, Prancer):

Versus Brenner trying to make El kill a cat:

There’s also these other weird parallels between Brenner and the shadow- when “the shadow”/whatever or whoever’s speaking to Henry during his visions talks to Henry during his bathroom vision of Patty, it says “we want the same thing”:

Versus Brenner saying “you want to do it, you want to kill” to Henry:

Especially again with how Brenner wants Henry to kill during TFS but says he cant force him to kill:

Versus the shadow making Henry kill Prancer, but Henry doesn’t want to kill Prancer- not only does it very much seem like the shadow “takes over,” and Henry’s trying to warn/help Prancer at first to “not be afraid” (which is a warning/helpful because as Henry says to Patty later, you cant let the shadow know you’re afraid):

but Henry ALSO says later that he can give the shadow “more animals” instead of the shadow killing Patty- so it’s still not really a choice/something Henry wants, because he’s still being forced into that position by the threat of the shadow killing people if he doesn’t give it enough animals:

Versus Brenner trying to force El to kill the cat and El refusing- and then El killing the guards when she wants to, but she wouldn’t want to if she wasn’t forced into that situation (being hauled off to the isolation room), just like how Henry didn’t want to kill Prancer/wouldnt have wanted to kill the animals if he wasnt forced to choose between killing animals vs killing people.

Anyway, point is, the way that Brenner operates with El in S1 is not only super similar to Brenner in TFS with Henry, but specifically, is extremely similar to how the shadow operates in TFS with Henry (ie putting him in a position where he ‘wants’ to kill, but he’s only in that position in the first place because he’s been forced into it, just like El with the guards.)

It’s also interesting to me that Henry does kill the cat/Prancer because he “wants” to, in the sense that he’d rather an animal die that a person, but DOESNT kill Patty when Brenner tells him on the catwalk to vs El, who DOESN’T kill the cat but DOES choose to kill the orderlies.

Especially with how Henry also chooses not to kill the lab scientist, and refused to kill the prisoner at first (and later only killed the prisoner in what seems like an accidental way/the prisoner’s fear seems to have triggered the shadow, which was caused by BRENNER because BRENNER was specifically flickering the lights in the prisoner’s room to scare him)

So, point is, even when Henry (and El) “choose” to kill in these situations, it’s still only a choice that was made because of the situations they were forced into- situations that Brenner tends to force them into/manipulate them into like pieces on a chess board, doing things like flickering the lights to scare the prisoner & putting El in the isolation room knowing that it scares her.

Anyway! TLDR there’s a definite connection between Brenner and the shadow.

[ohtobealady]

hi! I just watched the new DA movie and so ofc I went back to binge the series again lol and one moment I consider one of my favorite Corbet moments is in S6:E7 when Robert is about to go see if Henry is alright after the crash and Cora goes “you’re not going anywhere”. I love how it showed how protective she was of him and he listened to her too lol. Anyway I was wondering if you could possibly write a fic about a conversation they have later. Anyway I love your work and feel not obligation to write this!

Yesss. I love this scene, too. She's so tiny pulling him back to her. I tried to sort of imagine the spiral of Robert's feelings in this one; he was so irritable in the dining room and my headcanon is that he is usually at the mercy of his feelings, letting them sort of get out of control a bit. Of course, Cora is just the opposite, IMO. Thank you for trusting this one to me! I hope you like something about it :)

=======================================

The fact was, he wasn’t really tired. Lying in this bed, staring up at the ceiling of his sister’s home, he had tried to slow his breathing enough to shift into slumber, to close his eyes until they stopped roving beneath the lids and making them flicker open. But alas, he could not. 

For he was not tired. 

He was, however … was that anger? He wasn’t sure. It was certainly upset. Uncomfortable. Too aware of the way his wife laid awake beside him, her face angled up to his own, her fingers glancing for a moment against the sleeve of his shoulder before drawing them beneath her own head, crushed in a fold of her pillow.

Irritable, too. It was as if the metallic noise he sometimes heard over the telephone had crept into his head and crackled there. She’d said no more about it; Cora had only let her maid undress her in the corner of the bedroom before folding herself into the bed, Robert rolling in beside her. She’d not said another two words strung together about what they’d witnessed, what the day had brought. What their daughter must be feeling. 

No. Perhaps he was angry. 

Angry that the last five weeks had produced more lessons in mortality than he, nor any other man, could ever ask for. 

Angry, too, that he’d been so excited to see the motor race. Angry that the day had ended in tragedy. 

Angry that he had to stay back as younger men, stronger men, had rushed with his own daughters, to help. 

And angry that his wife—this woman whose soft fingers touched again at his shoulder—was capable of separating herself from her emotions in a way he never could understand. Angry that she could be so unfeeling when he could do nothing but feel.

He heard a small change in Cora’s breath and peered down at her beside him, but could sense she was still not asleep. He knew too well the rhythm of her sleeping body’s rise-and-fall; she was too still. 

She, too, was thinking. 

He could sense that as he peered at her. He could sense the way she tried to push away this day and draw in the next; but her sleeveless shoulder gave her away, the stillness of it catching whatever light came from the curtained window, and glowing. 

He shifted further down into the bed. “I should have stayed down with Mary.”

She lifted her chin along the pillow in response. 

“I can’t seem to sleep as it is, and I’m certain she won’t sleep at all either. Not with how horrific everything’s been.”

Still, his wife did not respond, and the little knot of anger tangled there between his ribs tightened. 

“After what she’s been through. God only knows what she saw at the scene of the crash. What bloody awful memories she’s reliving now.” He let one of his hands gesticulate to the dark ceiling. “I shouldn’t have come up without speaking with her—“

“I’m sure Tom—“

But Robert didn’t let his wife finish. “—as I should have gone to her at the track. Instead I just stood there. Useless.”

And so she did not. 

Instead she turned silently to lie on her back. And then, after a few moments more, and with a deep breath, she left the mattress. 

No. “Cora,” he tried, for he hadn’t meant this. He hadn’t meant he wanted to argue with her. He hadn’t meant it at all.

He tried to make out in the shadows what she did there on the other side of the room. “Cora, I hadn’t meant to raise my voice.” He heard a small clink of a glass and water from the pitcher that Baxter had brought up some time before. She still was silent. “But surely you understand how I must feel. To stand there as other men rushed past to help. That young, brave man gone in what seemed an instant.”

“Here.” He looked at her as she returned to the bed, her small body shaking the mattress gently as she climbed back in beside him. “Take this,” she offered, and Robert found she held a water glass. 

He sat up and, exhaling, took it.

“And,” he looked again to her hand, the glow that had been on her shoulder catching at her narrow wrist. “Take a powder.”

“I don’t want a powder,” he pouted but took it all the same.

“Do you need me to open it?”

“No.” And putting his much recent practice to use, he managed with one thumb to separate the wax paper; he tilted the medicine into his mouth, the sharp bitterness making his tongue smart. 

He took a drink of water, smacking away the taste, before handing the glass back to his wife who, twisting at her waist, placed the glass on the table beside her. 

Sighing, he laid back against the pillow. Sighing, he closed his eyes and tried to settle the irritation he still felt alive in his joints. But then, to his small surprise, Cora laid down as well, her body quickly flushing against his own, her arm draping across his breast … her nose burrowing into the space beneath his jaw. 

He blinked. The irritation he had felt, that telephone crackling that lived in his bones, it was gone.

“The phenacetin should help you sleep,” he felt her words against his throat, her little puffs of air. “If your tummy is uncomfortable.”

He nodded, and then felt himself ask her, “What about you?”. It was a reflexive response, and one he meant. He shifted his head and let his lips touch at her forehead, her hairline. “You couldn’t sleep either.”

“No, but…” 

He felt her fingers grasp tightly at his shoulder, and without thinking, his hand went to her own, taking it, and he brought her long fingers to his lips. 

“…you’re here.”

He kissed her fingers again. He nodded. The tangle of anger had loosened considerably there beneath the length of her arm, and Robert drew in a slow breath, bringing in the scent of her lavender hand cream, and he pressed his lips to her fingertips again. 

“I apologize for before.”

He felt her shake her head, but he went on.

“I didn’t mean I was angry with you. Only the day. And then Rosamund was so–” “--You’re here.” She repeated, stopping him. Her voice was low against his skin, and Robert lifted his chin against her forehead. “I think that for tonight, let’s just be grateful.”

His body felt heavier at that. His chest and arms and legs and head all tripled in weight as her words coursed through him, his heart aching a little at the sincerity in her words. 

Again, he kissed her forehead. And again he kissed her hair. And when she lifted her face to his, he found her lips and rested his head to her own. 

He nodded. “You’re right,” he conceded. “I’m here."

His heart quicked when he felt her lips move against his. “Please. Don't go anywhere.” 

[ricky-tiki-tah]

Glamrock Freddy Through The Ball Pit Part 3

Evan pushed a hand to his mouth in hopes of stifling his sobs when he heard his doorknob jiggle. The other hand held his flashlight, the flickering beam pointed at the the door the noise had come from. If he was lucky, and very, very quiet, maybe the nightmarish animatronic would go away.

He barely managed to stifle another sob and turn off his light in hopes of staying hidden, when the door creaked open. This was it, he was going to die. Evan hugged Fredbear to his chest and squeezed his eyes shut. He didn’t want to see himself eaten.

“Ev?”

That was definitely not an animatronic. Evan’s eyes shot open and he was already pulling Michael towards his bed before his brain had the time to process that his brother was there.

“Hey, hey Evan, w-w-what’s wrong?” Mike asked, bumping onto the bed with the speed the younger boy pulled him over to it before he sat at the foot of the bed.

“Be quiet!” Evan’s voice was barely audible, but definitely terrified. “They’ll hear you!”

Mike blinked in confusion, getting nothing but question marks from Freddy. “Who’ll hear m-me?”

“Bonnie, and Chica!” Evan was sobbing almost silently now. He jumped up, flashed the light in the closet before closing the doors a moment, flashed the light again, then returned to the floor at the foot of the bed. “And Foxy.”

Mike was confused. Chica and Foxy were still only drawings, Father and Uncle Henry had only just gotten started on the blueprints a couple weeks before. “How?

Evan shrugged. “I dunno. But they’re even worse that your drawings. Like… like metal monsters!”

Seeing how terrified Evan was, Mike decided to investigate. Evan may be a scaredy cat, but if there’s one thing Mike knew, it was that Evan was not a liar. He stood up, against Freddy’s advice, and stepped over to the closed door.

“I do not think potentially fighting off a nightmarish animatronic is a very good idea.” Freddy said, his wary tone blaring through Mike’s head.

“Don’t worry, we’ll b-be fine. He’s just dreaming.” Mike mumbled back as quietly as possible. He opened the door a bit only to recoil in shock when the distinct sound of breathing echoed near his ear. He slammed the door shut in shock, his eyes going wide. “W-w-what was that-t?!”

“I told you! It’s the animatronics!” Evan was wiping his eyes, joining them at the door. He put his ear up against it before opening it and shining his light out a moment. “You can’t keep the door closed, they’ll come in if you close it for no reason.”

Now that sounded terrifying. Mike wondered how he made it to Evan’s bedroom at the rate he was watching the newly seven year old run around his room, shining his light and closing his door.

“I am not sensing any animatronics on the premises.” Freddy noted after a few minutes of silence.

“Wait, w-what?” Mike asked, frowning in confusion and completely forgetting to whisper.

Evan glanced back at him, holding the closet door closed. “What’s ‘what’ Mikey?” He hissed.

“No I-I wasn’t— Freddy what are y-you talking about?” Mike ignored the horrified squeak from Evan in favor of trying to figure out what Freddy meant.

“I am still able to… sense other animatronics.” Freddy explained. “And I am not sensing any in this house.”

“Then what a-a-are those things?!”

“I do not know…”

Now Evan was looking at them in confusion. “Mikey, who are you talking to?”

“Uh…”

“He is t-talking to me.” Freddy pushed forward, waving to Evan who only looked confused and slightly scared.

“Yourself?” He asked, shining the light at the bed to scare of the small animatronics there. “And why are you talking funny?”

“I am Freddy, n-not your brother Michael. I am not t-talking funny, this is my voice.” Freddy explain, and Mike facepalmed from the passenger seat.

“What?” Evan’s eyes widened in fear now. “What do you mean you’re Freddy?!”

“I am Freddy F-F-Fazbear, however, I am n-not the one you are thinking of. I am a-a different version.”

“And you’re in Mike’s head?! Where’s Mikey??”

“W-we are sharing it. He is still here and c-can hear everything.”

“Don’t worry E-Ev, I’m f-f-fine.” Mike pushed forward to reassure him.

Evan narrowed his eyes. “Your eyes changed.”

“Huh?”

“Your eyes, they were—“ he paused, flashing the light down one hall and closing the door before continuing. “They kinda glowed a little. Or… Freddy’s eyes glowed? And they were bluer than they usually are.”

Mike blinked in surprise. “Huh, cool.” They didn’t exactly have the time to get into that new detail now, footsteps were coming down both hallways.

“Close your door!” Evan ordered, closing the one he was closest to.

Mike did so, holding onto the handle for dear life, probably literally.

“They’re not going away!” Evan sobbed quietly, not able to wipe his tears away as he held onto both the door and his flashlight.

“We cannot stay in here, it is not safe.” Freddy pointed out. “There is something… strange in this room. I do not know what it could be, but we should not stay here.”

“Evan, listen.” Mike spoke up, leaning back against the door to keep it closed. “We c-c-can’t stay in here, you’ve g-got too many doors. W-We gotta hole up somewhere else. Maybe my room, it’s only got one d-d-door, and mine’s got a lock.” He was very much disliking the stutter he seemed to have developed overnight.

“But how will we get there? Bonnie’s that way!” Evan asked, flashing his light towards the closet in hopes of keeping Foxy at bay.

“We’ll w-wait until he leaves, then you g-grab your pillow and we m-m-make a break for it.” Mike laid out his plan.

Evan looked hesitant, but nodded after thinking it over. He stepped flashed his light down the hall, Chica was gone.

Quickly, Evan grabbed his pillow and his Fredbear plush before he joined Mike at the door.

Mike threw the door open once Bonnie’s breathing disappeared. He grabbed Evan’s arm and they ran for it, barely remembering not to slam his door when he closed and locked it so he didn’t wake his father or Lizzie. How they had slept through the sounds of Chica in the kitchen, he doesn’t know.

They stood in apprehensive silence, waiting for the sound of mechanical breathing, but it didn’t come.

Five minutes passed before Mike crossed to his closet, pulling down another blanket for Evan to use. “Here.”

Evan took it, finally smiling a little bit. “Thanks Mikey.”

Mike shrugged, climbing under his covers. “Yeah, whatever. J-just get in bed.”

Evan smiled brightly now, climbing under the covers and curling to the older. “Night Mikey. …Night Freddy.”

“Night.” Mike muttered.

“Goodnight, Superstar!” Freddy added.

The brothers were asleep within the minute.

[misericorsalvator]

“I loved him...” A quiet, shaking admission of shame and guilt. ”I would’ve gone to the ends of the earth for him and back, fought angels and devils to give him a respite at least in what afterlife exists.” From within the shadows, a voice echoes. “I know, my son.”

In the dim flicker of scattered candles whose wicks approach their end, the shears catch the light of the dying flames, reflecting it back onto itself in the cracked mirror of the vanity and onto the dark outline of a figure behind him. Long, thin fingers comb through Henry’s damp hair, pulling at the tangled knots until they give and drape over his neck. The gesture almost feels…warm. Comforting a scared child shaken by its nightmares.

“But you do not need him. His lies have tainted your soul enough. Now, it is time to heal.” The shears slowly snip away at his hair, cutting the long locks til they barely reach the nape of his neck. It reminds Henry of the old days when he would chop his hair with a similar pair of shears; an uneven mess, but practical, without the risk of getting in the way. Except this time, it is done with more care, like shedding shackles Henry had not even realized he had been wearing. “You have a new purpose. One that will guide you back onto the path of light in service of His will. And you will lead your brothers and sisters back onto it as well.”

Those sharp, bony fingers run through his shortened hair once more, flattening it on the back of his head. All the while, Henry stays silent. “It may be too late for some, but it is never too late for you, my son. Now, you see the truth again.” The shears go for the braid, still attached, woven with such care and love that it threatens to break through his resolve— “Let me do it.” And finally, Henry breaks his silence with a desperate urgency.

The room falls quiet, its grandiose walls painted with the pictures of angels and the pious faithful echoing only a weak breeze under which the candles flicker, only barely holding onto their light. After that moment passes, the shears are handed to him, and Henry can clearly see their sharpness, honed to a point where the slightest touch of the blade could cut someone’s hand and draw blood. With slow care, almost as much as the figure had shown thus far, Henry takes the brain in one hand. His fingers feel the woven knots, the small decorative blue bead over the thin elastic band which holds it all together… And with a sharp, quick cut, he chops it off. He lets it drop onto the floor and feels his heart drop with it. Even though a weight has been shed, Henry feels no lighter.

The figure, however, seems pleased, a wrinkled smile showing through the shadows with the barest glimpse of sharp, jagged teeth. “I am proud of you, my son.” The voice echoes until Henry can hear it in his mind, feel its overwhelming power burn away any hesitation into ashes, and suddenly his heart doesn’t feel as heavy anymore. “Welcome home.”

[firstsprinces]

Thank you @anincompletelist for not only tagging me but for also creating this tag game! It's a brilliant and fun way to share an introduction to ourselves and our works that mean so much to us. I can't wait to fully dive and immerse myself into the worlds you've created and shared, and what others will be sharing because of this as well!

I also can’t wait to do this properly in 2024 when I’ll finally have some of these fics published!

I’ve chosen to share three of my WIPs that I’ve briefly shared since creating this account at the end of September this year. All three snippets of these haven’t been shared in either a WIP Wednesday or a Six/Seven Sentence Sunday yet, so they’re all a little treat for you all as you have very, very, very, patiently been waiting for me to light a fire under myself to get these published!

Unfortunately, this means I don't have links to these to share yet, but once I do this post will be updated!

At Another Place in Time (You Were Infinitely Mine) [WIP]

His eyes glance up to the ceiling above the bed first, and a sharp pang begins to flicker in his chest at the sight as the memories of staring upwards for hours rush back to him. He can see himself as a child pointing and drawing invisible lines to make connections between a galaxy he had created himself. This had been the one part of the cabin that Alex had thought had been his safe space. He can see the younger version of himself gradually becoming a teenager who still believed there had been magic just above his head. Now, if the sun creeps through the window at just the right angle, all Alex can see are the remnants of those damn glow-in-the-dark stars that had betrayed him all those years ago. This had been the one part of the cabin that Alex had thought had been his safe space, but then the two most important wishes he’s ever made in his life hadn’t been fulfilled and had seemingly been thrown back in his face in the ugliest ways. The stars may have fallen or had been torn off the ceiling in an angered teen-aged rage because of their deceit, but the glue remains and gives those once plastic shapes of promise a permanent haunting of everything Alex has ever yearned for. As the piercing pain continues to take over the rhythmic beats of his heart, Alex’s jaw clenches because even after all the time and devastation these stars have caused for him, he can’t help but want to stand underneath all of those and trace his fingers over the sticky smudge from the star he had claimed to be his favorite. That star had also been the one he lost first and the moment he had realized it had been missing from his self-made constellation, he had placed all the blame of the pieces of his life that have fallen apart onto it. Its neon glow had been a disguise in the form of an entrancing invitation to the blackhole of despair it truly is.

The WIP I'm Promising to Start Posting in January (It has a title, but I'm keeping it a secret)

Months after his father’s funeral, his mother had told him the opposite. It had actually been Henry who’d given his father the enlightenment to embrace all new discoveries and to always keep chasing them because they’re remarkably never-ending. Always live as though the world keeps creating things to stumble upon on purpose. Accidents may happen along the way, but those are also little surprises that will lead to something far grander. As a child Henry had been more animated and curious than his two siblings, but he’d also been overly cautious and kept to himself when necessary. It had been his father who would tell Henry that he shouldn’t be afraid of unknown things, so why would his mother tell him otherwise? What would Henry have given someone with more life experiences than he had? Their relationship had always been different than his ones with Phillip and Beatrice. Though Arthur always made sure to give each of his children their own moments just between the two of them, Catherine had let the secret out to Henry that his favorite discovery had been witnessing Henry experience the world around him. After the confession, Henry made the promise to his father after his passing that he’d take his father on every new adventure with him to make sure he’d never miss out, and in those adventures, he’d find out who he truly is and embrace himself as the wonderment his father believes he is. He places the last and only photograph he has of him and his father back down on his desk, his pointer finger skimming his greyed blurry face that doesn’t resemble the fact his father’s memory will never become dull or unclear.

Start Again with Steady Hands [the Stable Boy! Alex AU WIP]

This time Alex doesn’t turn on the lamp in front of the window because he’s sure Henry won’t be sneaking out from the palace tonight to come and see him. He won’t be opening the cottage door and see either bravery or vulnerability in his eyes. Neither of them will be reaching with hands that don’t have to recoil and reject the one thing that’s the most certain to them. A touch from Henry may burn him, but the invisible branding on his skin from his fingertips is electric – an igniter that reminds Alex that he’s alive. It’s the first night alone where Alex notices how cold the bedroom is and knows for certain that being surrounded by warmth is just an extension of being in Henry’s presence. The light may not be calling out to Henry tonight, but Alex is still looking out the window into the dark and wondering if Henry’s staring out one of the palace’s windows back at him. He wants to know if the tension he’s feeling is because Henry’s back to forcing himself to push away the pull Alex has on him. He’s calling with his heart in hopes Henry’s can hear it and that there will be a response that’s not going to say that this is the end.

If you made it this far, thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed this little insight into the works that I'm in the process of that I'm also really proud of!

I can't wait to go through this tag and read everyone else's!

Tagging: @priincebutt

[computerpeople]

Vanessa and the Fruity Maze Girl

Recently I've been watching a play through of FNAF Pizza Sim, and I came to a realization that I had taken a lot of inspiration from Fruity Maze Girl(FMG) for a lot of my drawings with Vanessa. The big doe eyes and the creepy bunny right behind her, encouraging her to do something, and it made me realize that FMG and Vanessa actually have some extremely similar color coding, they're both blonde girls, who are color coded pink and white with rainbow highlights. FNAF tends to be pretty nuts about color associations, if a character is a certain color, that's typically what they use to associate the character with another. IE: "Purple" guy, and Michael turning literally purple. Or Henry being represented as a grey silhouette, or Charlie always consistently being black and red. It felt like an interesting connection, that the one other girl we see William interact with, but not murder, is another cutsie pink-dressed blonde haired girl that he encourages to follow him.

And then I really thought about it. FMG is never confirmed to be one of the missing kids Will got, in fact, that doesn't make any sense at all. Fruity Maze is a videogame Michael has in his fake, death trap restaurant. We clearly see FMG playing the version of the game Michael has in his MODERN restaurant, NOT any video game William had in his restaurant back in the 80s. We know that William, at one point, is IN the building that Michael is building to trap him in, and actively running around with all the other haunted animatronics as the restaurant is up and running. So it would make sense that FMG is not interacting with William pre death, pre spring trapped, back in the 80s, but is actually a modern little girl interacting with scraptrap. But how does that relate back to Vanessa?

Flowers for your grave. Now that could easily be a coincidence, flowers and grave sites aren't exactly the most unique imagery, but it's one that is cemented into Vanessa's character. She is described as pink, and feminine, and bubbly. She has a massive draw to the outdoors, loves flowers and bees and gardening, which is brought up both in the AR emails AND in her therapy tapes. She, so far, is also the only human character to be associated with the color pink. While this is also a stretch, Vanessa is also mentioned to interact with sweets multiple times, she is a baker, and more importantly, there is a focus on her eating disorder in the therapy tapes. She both accepts, and refuses candy. (Which brings me back to the fruity maze game imagery.)

It also got me thinking that this is the first time we see springbon represented like this, with massive googly eyes. Before hand he's typically depicted with pixel eyes, much like all the other animatronics. The googly eyes make me think of one thing.

Malhare. A representation of springbon/Will we haven't seen before, and we still aren't sure if it's actually him. Do you see the resemblance? The massive eyes, the smile, the thin long ears. It's interesting that the representation of Will we see that's been fictionalized and coded into the VR game by Vanessa herself resembles this videogame-version of Spring Bon (aka "FunBun" according to the game files) we only see once in MICHAELS modern restaurant. In the Fruity Maze game, when Will shows up, he also is only visible when the game lights are ON. The game begins to flicker, and each time the game is a blank black screen, William vanishes. Only visible when the game is ACTUALLY playable. Sounds a lot like Malhare, doesn't it.

What if this wasn't about some dog, what if it was about William himself. He isn't dead. Come find him. Follow me, I will lead you. Doesn't that sound familiar? Vanessa has been lead down a horrible path in hopes to find Will. And much like Vanessa's path that Will leads her down, FMG's path is filled with more, and more murder. More dead dogs, her world becomes replaced with them. She is no longer able to collect "Fruits", which reminds me of how Vanessa has been barred out of gardening, baking, eating, anything that isn't related to Will. Eventually, anything that isn't child murder. The dogs get progressively more mutilated the further FMG gets in the game, much like how Vanessa becomes more sadistic, more cruel, more like William herself the more she kills, the further she loses herself following his footsteps.

But what would this mean for Vanessa? It would mean she's been here the entire time. It would mean that due to Michael's own mistakes, Michael's death trap of a restaurant, he has inadvertently introduced this young, blonde girl to the evil that is his father, and likely many others. FMG could easily be Vanessa, before she grew up and began to work for silver parasol games. Introduced to Will at a young age, she could've been lead down a path that primed her for who she grew up to be. It could be why her backstory is so confusing, what the Therapists meant when they said that she had made up all of her backstory, about her father "Bill" and who he was, and how he forced her to lie in court which lead to her mothers suicide. Bill? Her dads name is Bill? That's awfully coincidental. Especially when the therapist directly confronts her about the story being a lie. There was no suicide, no Bill. So who the fuck was she talking about?

It would also continue the themes of FNAF into SB. The theme of beating a dead horse, cyclical abuse, repeating the mistakes of the people before you. Michael made a restaurant to end it forever, to catch and kill his dad, and inadvertently he horrifically traumatized and repeated the cycle without even knowing it, allowing a young girl to be taken advantage of and warped, continuing to be a mirror image of his father and continue the pain his fathers caused, all while Vanessa continues the cycle of child murder, copying his behaviors, learning his methods, attempting to become him. It could explain why Vanessa is already privy to everything in the story, Vanessas connection to William and how she found him, why she's so obsessed with him if he had haunted her as a young girl before the Simulator location was burnt down. It would explain her interest in coding him into a video game, its how she remembers him! It would explain why Malhare doesn't act like William, she doesn't remember him well, or at least didn't when she first started trying to find him. It would explain her obsession.

While all of this could absolutely be a coincidence, it fills in all the gaps I've been confused about, and I'm kind of obsessed with the idea that Michael, inadvertently, ended AND restarted Williams reign.

[tilyv343]

I gotta theory. You know how Henry/One/Vecna had his powers before he even met Brenner? Well, I’ve been reading about flickergate and Will having powers like Eleven’s and Henry’s, and I thought that maybe Will always has had powers and might’ve accidentally created the upside down.

Hear me out! (some of these bullets were thought up by other ppl)

1. Will is pretty creative and imaginative and he draws and paints a lot of pictures, so maybe some of those ideas seeped into the upside down.

2. The monsters in Stranger Things are almost all from D&D, and we all know that all Will wants to do is play D&D.

3. This could just be a plot whole, but, when Will is in the upside down in season 1, he can access the telephone, turn on the stereo, and flicker the lights. In season 4, all Robin, Eddie, Nancy, and Steve did/could do was flicker the lights.

In conclusion, Will might have powers, he might’ve created the upside down, or, I’m reading into this too much and he’s just a normal human teen with feelings for his bestie.

[muutosarchive]

"What's wrong, Henry?" William drags out his name, eyes half-lidded as he picks a piece of imaginary lint off of Henry's collar. He's close, invading Henry's space like he always does when he wants attention. "What, I'm not allowed to see anyone else? Fuck anyone else?" He had mentioned someone, a flirtation, an invitation. It was the truth, although his claim that he planned on pursuing it was. . . well, it would likely remain a lie. "I thought this was just a little fun." His fingers are against bare skin now, feather light touch against Henry's neck, his throat. "Right? You fuck me, then go home and fuck your wife. You're not mine, I'm not yours." Oh, but he wanted to be. "So, what's the problem, darling?" ( I'M. HELP. HELP ME. / @spring-lxcked )

☽𖤐☾ @spring-lxcked

𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭. shit... if will let him he'd turn tail, & blast out of there right now. he doesn't like facing it. he'd swallow the bitterness of knowing a divorced afton left with someone else, leaving him with a warm bed but a swarmed mind. something which makes henry distant. more silent, & teeth gritting. beer drinking, sleepless. he gets that way when anyone even so much as flirts with will, which is sickening in his own opinion. he's falling too far into the quicksand to deal with it now. or, so he thinks. as long as he hides it - but, this time he hadn't been so lucky.

he feels closed in. knew william zeroed in the moment he sensed it in the air. pupils shrinking & then widening. 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲.

henry's stomach twists. open mouthed, as bile threatens his handsome face. that which is frozen in a furrowed, open mouthed state of anxiety. thick arms plant themselves on a shelf that digs into his back. hyper aware of his hair overlapping forehead, or sleeves cutting into thick, & freckled upper arms. "it is, goddammit. will -- i'm serious. knock it off." eyes flicker, warning.

he tries to lay down the law with william, truly. rolling his eyes before trying to look somewhat casual, when taking to resting more adjacently against the wall. but he doesn't knock it off. he never does. & henry is getting angry. thick chest inflating faster. neck flexing under, & shrugging off the engineer's touch. albeit weakly. he didn't like when william mentioned his wife. a hand moving up to swat at him, like a fly. a pest.

straightening again, the engineer sticks a finger in william's chest. taking steps closer to try & draw the other backward. "don't you fucking dare bring her up to me." he speaks. "you beg so damn much to be mine -- all mine. this sure is a funny way of showing it." he shoves at him, arms raising in question on either side. "is this what you want, from me?" his voice was scary calm, as was his careful expression. lips pressed like teeth, with brows softly furrowed. he grabs william's collar & tugs him closer. "& what if i told you that you damn well are. huh?" he sticks his nose against will's.

"bring up my wife again & i'll throw you out. don't think i won't."

he seals their lips together, at that. rough hand curling into the waist of his shirt.

[harringrovsonsworld]

Its Alright, its ok

Yo i finally finished my vampire Eddie thing!

Its Alright Its Ok (1680 words) by Harringrovesonsworld

Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: Stranger Things (TV 2016)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Characters: Eddie Munson, Henry Creel | One | Vecna, Victor Creel, Nancy Wheeler, Martin Brenner

Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Alternate Universe, henry and vecna as two different people, Vampire Eddie Munson, Post Season 4, Pre Season 5, Blood and Injury, Blood Drinking, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Past Abuse, Starvation, Canon-Typical Violence

Summary:

so i have this au thing were vecna pulls an alessa from silent hill, splits himself into two parts. one is vecna as we know him and the other is henry, more akin to the person he was pretending to be as peter in hawkins lab. Vecna consideres 'henry' his weakness, the parts that have caused him to fail in the past. "why not just get rid of him then" i hear you ask. well SOMEONE has to feed vecnas new pet vampire.

platonic Eddie/henry, brief mentions of violence and referenced child abuse.

Long post under the cut

“Its ok” 

His voice is pitched, measured and calm. Tone flat but light . Practised over decades. Back then, someone had to keep the kids calm during experiments and it was never going to be Brenner. You could only talk so much to kids who had never seen real grass before it stopped making sense. When that failed: placate, resonate, soothe. The calmer they were, the quicker it was over and they could all get on with their miserable lives. He breathes out slowly “ take all the time you need.” He grits his teeth. Placid voice hides the fear. His breath hitches in his chest as the other swallows thickly. Its agony, simply put . Like two hot sewing needles worked through the thick of his neck. Fledgling fangs, that a week ago could hardly pierced the foil of a yoghurt top. “I'm sorry.” The other sobs, tears mixing with spilled blood “I'm so sorry” Brown eyes grow darker and more empty every day, but the tears that flow from them are still painfully human. He wants to move, run his hand down the others back, if for no other reason than to stop the hideous noise that rattles from Eddie's chest when he weeps. But fleshy vines have wrapped themselves around his limbs, pinned him to the pipework deep under the creel house. Writhing and moving of their own accord they pulse with the beat of his heart, itching under his skin. There's a little wiggle room, but Eddie’s weight in his lap is enough to keep him pinned.

Hands ball up the back of his dirty white shirt, tiny claws scratching along his ribs are not yet hard enough to draw blood. “I'm sorry…i cant..i cant stop…i need more” Eddie breathes along his neck, moving to the other side before sinking his teeth back in and pulling another gulp. He hisses; the wounds from last week haven't fully healed , still raw and tender as Eddie suckles on the sensitive flesh.  He’s getting dizzy at this point, unsure if he should be grateful or concerned. He can't blame Eddie for his lack of control. He too knows the pain of starvation . Back before the soteria, it was one of Brenners favourite punishments “Dinner is a privilege” he would mutter, locking his cell door tight. “Not a right.” Henry winces, ripped from memory  as Eddie's fangs burrow deeper than before. It's been days since last Eddie fed, maybe weeks since he had real food and not just a few mouthfuls of malnourished blood. The other creature in the room watches them unblinking, fascinated. 

Their eyes meet and flicker apart just as quickly. It's like looking in a mirror, he supposes. If the mirror was covered in offel and left in the rain to rust for a few years. His other self looks decrepit, for want of a better word. He could just as easily be describing roadkill, as the thing in front of him. The girl, Nancy, he thinks she's called, she and her friends did a real number on him. He remembers the anger, the fear, disgust at weakness as he lay bleeding on the ground in front of the place he once called home. 

But it all seems so detached, like watching his life through someone else's eyes, a recording on tv or something, a voice over the radio. The next he knows, there are two of them; staring side by side on dirty ground at his own face, distorted in anger. Except it isn't him, not entirely. After the assault ‘Henry’, the one eddie called ‘vecna’ cut a swath of destruction through the upside down, in what can only be described as a childish tantrum. If you could make God bleed, people would cease to believe in him. So he decided to change it, he would make them believe again. 

All his pain, all his rage, every negative emotion he’d used to sustain himself over the years, Vecna concentrated until it had a mind of its own, struck out and left the rest behind. All that was left was Henry. Henry the outcast, the orderly, the lab rat, the discarded remains of a greater being. The one tied to the wall with a nestling vampire using him as a human juice pouch. Vecna’s Humanity, the shreds he had left collected up and bundled into not-quite-a-person .He supposes then this basement must be the proverbial junk drawer of Vecna's mind and him the funny plug that doesn't fit anywhere. He's someone to hang onto  in case those trifling human feelings ever become useful again. No rage, no hate, no lust for destruction or even the weakest of Vecna’s powers . Just a sense of emptiness and feelings that don't belong to him.  Henry struggles to make sense of these memories; they're his and he knows it but…it’s less like a movie of one's life and more like a photo album that has been dropped on the floor and it's his job to put everything back in its place. Henry feels nothing for Nancy, except maybe a twinge of pity knowing what his other self has planned. 

He realises he's been holding his breath. A sharp nip from eddie brings him back to reality. Henry’s eyes flutter as Eddie takes another gulp, the world growing a little dark at the edge of his vision. “That's enough.” Vecna's coarse voice sets his nerves on edge. Eddie gasps as he's snatched away, hands plucking Henry's shirt  as he goes, a feeble whimper on his lips. The young undead is tossed to the ground, groaning in pain and curling in on himself as  he skids across the concrete floor. Barely a second passes before cold replaces eddies close warmth. Henry nearly sobs in relief and shudders at the loss of heat. 

Eddie coughs wetly, pathetically weak. The blood running down his chin matches the rivulets that spill free from Henry's puncture wounds , soaking into his stained shirt collar. Eddie wheezes, coughs and rasps on blood. Choking, his healing lungs still struggling with the toxic air of the upside down. Henry watches with morbid fascination as exposed muscle contracts and spasms around Eddie's lean frame. Vecna rises from his spot by the door, languid and measured, “Are you satisfied?” The deep tremor of his voice rattles the pipework, floorboards groaning under the vibrations. Eddie flinches as Vecna comes to a rest by his side, murmuring inaudibly into the crook of his arm.

“Answer me” Eddie’s still coughing. If it weren't for all the red, Henry swore the metal head  was starting to turn blue. Vecna kicks out, landing a hit right to Eddie's tender side. The sound Eddie makes isn't entirely human. But then again, nothing down here is anymore. He sobs quietly into the sleeve of his jacket, determined not to let anyone see how scared he is.   

Something about this scene is making Henry's heart race and his mind reel. Victor standing over him, why can't you just be normal? Henry never cried, perhaps that was the problem. Next it's Brenner, why can't you just behave, do as I ask ? ‘I'm trying papa.’ he responds, blood dripping from his nose but it was never enough.  “He just needs a second,” Henry protests as much to Vecna as the memory. The snap of the vine across his hollow cheek echoes all around them. Henry tastes copper and briefly wonders what about it Eddie suddenly finds so appealing. For the first time since they were separated , he felt anger swell in his chest.

But Henry is weak, exhausted from blood loss. Wants to fight but knows it's a waste of effort. He withers under Vecna’s glare, turning so he doesn't have to face the fact that time after time, there's nothing he can do. Vecna grunts, turning his attention back to eddie. “Are.you.satisfied?” Every word is punctuated with a tightening of tendrils, eddie slowly lifting from the floor like a stage marionette. The flesh strings raise him to eye level, brown almost black meets blue almost white. Vecan uses his good hand to examine the brunette, turning his head left and right by his jaw, using his talon to push back his lip and study Eddie's fangs. Half lidded, the young vampire muttered something, too quiet for even the dead silence of the basement “ Speak boy.” Vecna croaks “ have you had your fill? Finally Ready to serve at my side? Never be hungry again?” He curses himself for not watching. The look on Vecna’s face when Eddie spits what must be a massive mouthful of blood and mucus across his cheek is something he’d have paid good money to see.

He feels the force of the throw, the movement of the air wafting his blond fringe aside before he really registers what's happened. The entire building rattles when Eddie hits the basement wall. Vecna is gone before he’s even fallen to the floor, a fleshy mass grown over the door sealing them inside. Eddie is laughing between groans and it's quite possibly the best sound he’s ever heard. It fades far too fast, back to coughing and breathlessness and then to silence. It takes him a few minutes to rouse. Short bursts of movement, using his nails for purchase to drag himself along the ground, until the other is resting his head on Henry’s thigh. He feels the sticky warmth of blood soak into his pant leg, the bloom of red though white like ink on a wet page. A quick glance up at the plumbing tells him he must have cracked his head open on a pipe. Not like it could kill him, but still that's gotta hurt. Outside something howls and Eddie curls tighter towards him “Tell me again about your little dungeons and wagons game?” he tries “...dragons.” Eddie hums wiping blood from his mouth “hmm?” “It's dragons. Dungeons and dragons.” he repeats “so what's your favourite thing about it then?” Henry asks, looking to the ceiling to count the webs again. 

“You get to kill monsters.” 

[xasha777]

In the distant future, on the lush planet of Verdantia, where the flora radiates with bioluminescent hues and the air is perpetually filled with the fragrance of blooming exotic flowers, there exists a mysterious figure known as Elysia Montmorency. Her striking appearance, with flowing orange hair and a greenish complexion, is as enchanting as the verdant forests that surround her home.

Elysia is the last descendant of the ancient House of Montmorency, a lineage that has long been revered for its connection to the planet's unique ecosystem. The Montmorencys have always been caretakers of Verdantia's delicate balance, possessing an innate ability to communicate with the planet's flora and fauna. Elysia, with her ethereal beauty and profound connection to nature, embodies the essence of her ancestors' legacy.

One evening, as the twin moons of Verdantia cast a surreal glow over the landscape, Elysia sensed a disturbance in the natural harmony of her world. The radiant flowers dimmed, and the vibrant leaves began to wither. Guided by an instinct passed down through generations, she ventured deep into the heart of the forest, where ancient secrets lay hidden.

There, she discovered an ancient radio telescope, a relic from an era when Verdantia was part of a grand interstellar network. The device had been dormant for centuries, but now it pulsed with an eerie, otherworldly energy. As Elysia approached, the telescope activated, projecting a holographic image of her ancestor, Henri Montmorency.

"Greetings, Elysia," the hologram intoned. "Our time is short, and our mission is critical. The House of Montmorency has always been the guardian of Verdantia, but now our world faces a threat from beyond the stars."

Elysia listened intently as Henri explained the existence of a rogue celestial body, a fragment of a long-destroyed planet, hurtling towards Verdantia. Its trajectory was erratic, driven by a stochastic process influenced by the gravitational pull of nearby celestial bodies. If it collided with Verdantia, it would bring catastrophic destruction.

To avert this disaster, Elysia would need to harness the full potential of her connection to Verdantia. Using the knowledge encoded in the telescope, she began to manipulate the planet's natural energy fields, creating a protective barrier. This task required immense concentration and strength, drawing upon the wisdom of Henri Poincaré's work in celestial mechanics and the mathematical insights of Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz.

As the rogue fragment drew closer, Elysia's efforts intensified. She could feel the planet responding to her commands, its energy resonating with her own. The protective barrier shimmered into existence, a translucent shield that enveloped Verdantia. The collision was imminent, and every ounce of Elysia's being was focused on maintaining the barrier.

At the crucial moment, the fragment collided with the barrier, and a blinding light engulfed the forest. Elysia felt the impact reverberate through her body, but the barrier held. The rogue fragment disintegrated, its destructive energy dissipated harmlessly into space.

Exhausted but triumphant, Elysia collapsed to the forest floor. The natural balance of Verdantia slowly restored itself, the flowers blooming once more and the leaves regaining their vibrant color. The holographic image of Henri Montmorency flickered one last time.

"You have done well, Elysia. The House of Montmorency's legacy endures. Verdantia is safe, thanks to your courage and our ancient knowledge."

With these words, the hologram faded, and Elysia knew that her journey was just beginning. As the guardian of Verdantia, she would continue to protect her world, drawing strength from her lineage and the profound bond she shared with the planet. The House of Montmorency would live on through her, its legacy etched into the very fabric of Verdantia's existence.