#* ✶ 𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 // r victoria & charlie .

[amazingdvils]

which 𝚠𝚘𝚕𝚏 wins? i guess it really depends just gotta wait and see which one's 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘵𝘦'𝘴 the biggest turns out i'm living in a horror film where i'm both the 𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑 and the 𝗙𝗜𝗡𝗔𝗟 𝗚𝗜𝗥𝗟 so who, who are 𝙮𝙤𝙪?

feat. @wraith-of-christmas-future

[amazingdvils]

oh no, he's hot.

mutuals can interact / rb. non-mutuals cannot interact.

[amazingdvils]

what a big heart i have the better to 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 with little red riding hood even bad wolves can be 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥

vic & charlie - fairy tale edition feat. @wraith-of-christmas-future

[amazingdvils]

@wraith-of-christmas-future asked:

An obdurate air conceived the thought aloud, ".. abandon  thought  and  let  the  dream  descend . " Lips once taught with restraint now bloomed with smug accretion, tipping the prospect with razor teeth quite suggestive of their intended nature. Obsidian hues pinning to extract her utmost attention. [ I think you already know for who. Couldn't pass up the Phantom memes. No matter how hard I tried to resist. ]

The last seventy two hours had been fraught with one bad thing after another, leaving Vic McQueen beyond anxious and without any impending sign of sleep. She was at the point where she felt like clawing her own skin off while screaming angrily at the heavens just to free herself from it all. Although she chose to refrain from actually doing it, the thought was becoming more and more tempting with each passing hour. Her clothes felt like agony against her flesh and every sound felt magnified to an unbelievable degree. She supposed that her therapist would call this being ‘overstimulated,’ but she just preferred to call it her own living hell.

Charlie’s sudden voice pulled a groan from her lips, her fingers reflexively tightening around the handle of the knife that she’d been using to cut up the tomato for her lunch. Wayne had called a few moments previously to remind her to eat, something that had escaped her mind until he said something. “I really hope that you’re not referring to yourself as a dream, Manx. You’re a goddamn nightmare that I can’t fuckin’ escape.” Her voice was sharp, harsh to even her own ears. 

The tonality of it caused her to visibly grimace and she took a deep breath, carefully laying the knife down and putting both palms flat on the countertop. She hung her head, her limp curls forming a curtain around her slightly too pale face. “That was…Look, you’ve just…you’ve chosen a really, really bad time to show up. I haven’t slept in over forty eight hours, Lou’s in the hospital because of a pretty bad car crash, and most of my meds have run out. I have to run up to the pharmacy in Boulder to pick ��em up and that’s impossible because Maggie’s out of town and Wayne’s staying with Lou. I’m just…I’m really on edge right now.” That was as close to an apology as she was willing or able to give at that moment.

The Brat lifted her hands to press the bridge of her nose and it was only then that she realized that she was trembling. She took a deep breath and ran her hands through her hair, pushing it out of her face and trying to hide how close to falling apart she was. “If you’ve just come here to fuck, you’ve chosen a horrible time. Sorry to disappoint.” The edge was gone from her voice, leaving behind something that sounded hollow and exhausted.

She hated it. She hated how vulnerable she felt and she hated how Manx had chosen right now to show up and be a menace. She hated showing him, of all people, how close she was to absolutely shattering. Vic was barely holding it together and he was the last person that she wanted to witness what would happen when her strength gave out.

[amazingdvils]

starter for @wraith-of-christmas-future It was a quiet, peaceful night for Vic McQueen, something that had become a little rarer over the last few months. She sipped her tea as lightning danced across the inky black sky, a low hum of content sounding from the back of her throat as thunder rumbled in the distance. She cherished nights like these, especially when her pain levels were low and her mind was calm. She enjoyed the sense of solitude that had settled over her, knowing that the few people in her life that she cared for were safe in their own pursuits. Even Charlie was out of town and out of her hair for some errand or another, although she wasn’t sure where or what. She found it better for her own peace of mind to just not ask.

She was dozing off when the click of the back door opening jerked her awake. Eyebrows furrowed as she listened, muscles knotting in sudden fear. Had she forgotten to lock the back door again? Her mind quickly went over the logical people that it could be. Maggie was off with her girlfriend on a date night. Wayne and Lou were out of town for a much needed guys trip. And she knew that it wasn’t Charlie because she would have heard the hum of the Wraith’s engine pulling into her driveway, a sound that she’d become intimately familiar with over the last few months.

A shaking hand reached for her cane as she slowly got to her feet, heart pounding. “Who’s there?” she called out, hand tightening around the head of the cane. She could dimly hear low voices, male sounding, but couldn’t make out the words. 

With a sickening jolt, she realized that she was outnumbered. If she was younger, if she wasn’t so damaged from her showdowns with Manx, she would have been more willing to stand her ground and fight. But she knew that if she tried, she would be overpowered quickly. It was no secret to those in town that her leg barely worked, that she was half blind, that she was a lot weaker than most. She was an easier target than she used to be. Fuck.

The Brat tried to ignore the panic that was attempting to well up, quietly turning to try to leave her house from the front door. She could hear Lou’s voice in the back of her mind reminding her that objects were replaceable, but she wasn’t. There was no reason to try and fight back if escape was an option. Besides, she was absolutely sick of hospitals at this point. 

She’d only gotten a few feet of the front door before it burst open and two men dressed in all black with their faces concealed came bursting in, causing her to skitter back. Apparently, Vic had forgotten to lock that door as well. Motherfucker. She screamed, turning to run down the hall. If she could reach her bedroom, she could bar the door long enough to climb out of the window and hide outside long enough for them to leave. 

Her cane was suddenly kicked out from beneath her as she tried to run, causing her to shriek in surprise as she stumbled forward. Vic fell, face slamming into the corner of the wall at the entrance of the hallway. Pain filled her skull and her vision exploded into sparks and stars. The taste of blood and terror filled her mouth as she felt a hand grab her hair and yank it up, pulling a yelp from her. 

“Poor little Victoria McQueen,” sneered a male voice in her ear. “Children’s author, kidnap survivor, crazier than a shit house rat. But hey, even crazy fucks have valuables. Now tell me, where’s yours?”

Despite her terror, the Brat gritted her teeth in defiance. “Go fuck yourself,” she spat. Her heart was pounding so hard in her chest that it hurt. All she could think of was Wayne and that she would never get to see him graduate high school. She’d never get to see him go to college or, eventually, have a family. She’d never get to have another summer barbecue at the lake with Wayne and Lou and Maggie. Hell, she even felt absolutely heartbroken over the fact that she would never again get to hear Charlie’s voice purring her name in her ear or feel herself get lulled to sleep with her head on his shoulder.

Charlie. Instantly, an idea occurred to her. Some sort of mental bond had been forged between the two of them due to the time that he spent haunting her. The bastard used it to his advantage all the time, often figuring out things that she’d much rather he didn’t have the power to know. But could she use it to her advantage now? Could she somehow reach out to him via this link? Would it work? Hell, even if it did work, was he in a place where he could reach her in time?

Excruciating pain suddenly exploded through her bad leg as a knee was pressed into her, interrupting her line of thought. She screamed and felt another person slap her so hard that she saw stars once again. “I’m not here to play games, bitch. If you want to get out of this alive, tell me where you hide your fuckin’ valuables.”

“I don’t have anything valuable, you dumb fuck,” she snarled. Inwardly, she reached out for whatever tether that tied her and Charlie together and tried to yank on it. Hard. Help! Help! Goddamn it, Manx! HELP ME!

Her face was slammed into the wooden floor before more pressure was put on her bad leg. The pain was so bad that she couldn’t think or even scream. She just groaned, eyes closing as the tears fell, silently screaming for the one figure who even had a chance at helping her. Please, please work. Please, Charlie.

[amazingdvils]

@wraith-of-christmas-future asked:

11) for sender to bite the inside of receiver’s thigh and then lick the mark left behind.

[ I was torn on a lot of those, mind you. I may or may not send you one more later on down the road. ;) ]

During the times that Charles Manx was absent from her life and home, Vic McQueen told herself that it was for the best. He was dangerous and annoying and she should put her foot down, cast him from her life for good. He’d tried to kill her on several occasions, had taken her son from her, had piloted her body for his own resurrection. Not to mention, whatever the hell that had sprung up between them was incredibly unstable at times. Dangerous in itself. She knew that she should pull herself together and end all of this in case she loses the life that she’d built up since the night that she’d thrown him deep within her inscape.

She would make her mind up during those times and even go over what she would say to him in her mind, trying to puzzle out the options that would make him the least likely to murder her with his bare hands. The Brat would then memorize her chosen words and phrasing, even practice them out loud to make sure that they sounded right. She would build up the confidence that she would need to be able to confront him.

Then he would actually show up and everything would go out the window somehow. He would look tired and she’d postpone it to a time where he wouldn’t look so tired, only to find that she’d forgotten by the time that he left again. Or she’d be dealing with something with her editor or with Wayne or something else vexing that life had a tendency to toss at people and she’d be too irritable or distracted to say anything.

Or it would be like today where he would show up while she was in the shower during one of her bad pain days, hoping that the hot water would help with the misery. Vic was at the point where she didn’t even have to begrudgingly ask him for help anymore. Charlie seemed to just instinctively know. He would start using those hands of his, now knowing exactly where the worst of the pain was and she would completely melt like the weakling she was. The fearsome Brat was putty in the hands of Charles Talent Manx and she hated herself so much for it. 

The feel of his teeth on her flesh pulled a whining moan from her throat, her back pressing against the tile as she shifted on the shower bench for him. She then shuddered pleasurably as his tongue moved over the sensitive spot, her fingers tangling in his dark hair. Vic was already slick with need, wanting nothing more than to feel him deep within her despite the fact that she’d been practicing on how to end things just the night before. “Charlie!” His name escaped her lips in a high pitched whine as her hips bucked upwards slightly, her body aching for more. “Higher please, Charlie. Please.” Her whimpers echoed off of the tile around them, making her request inescapable. 

God, there was something so delicious about that man on his knees, looking up at her with those beautiful dark eyes that drove her even more insane than she already was. It was times like these where he had the ability to completely stop any hope of logical thought and she would become a whiny and needy shell of herself, desiring nothing more than to feel his skin against hers. And those times that he uttered her name in a little whine? It drove her absolutely up the wall in ways that she didn’t have the words for.

“I’ve missed you.” The confession that fell from her lips was unexpected and jolted her back to reality just ever so slightly. Vic groaned inwardly, knowing that she wouldn’t hear the end of it. Great, just great. Her stupid mouth had run away from her again, giving Charlie yet another unneeded boost to his goddamned ego.

[amazingdvils]

@wraith-of-christmas-future asked:

[ UNBUTTON ] : due to heat or stress or other reasons, sender unbuttons the top of their shirt to reveal their neckline.

[ My mind went to our discussion --- I couldn't resist. I have no self control. ]

The Brat ran her fingers through her messy hair, pushing loose strands off of her sticky forehead. Normally, she enjoyed the summer heat, especially considering how her chronic pain tended to not flare as badly during the warmer months. However, there was definitely a thing ‘as too hot,’ even for her. And when the heat was so high that the air conditioner wasn’t working as efficiently, even with fans? Yeah, it was too hot even for her at that point.

She sighed, putting her pencil back in its case and stood up, stretching with a groan. Vic knew that she needed to finish this book for her editor, but concentrating was absolutely impossible in this heat. Perhaps she’d try to get up earlier in the morning, before the sun was as high, and make the attempt again. Or maybe she should buy more fans and one of those air conditioning units for the window to put in the art room, which had become the hottest room in the house due to the amount of windows and lack of curtains.

Vic grabbed her cane, leaning heavily on it as she exited the room. A nice cold glass of ice water sounded amazing right now. Perhaps she’d get the water, take off her clothes, and just lay on the floor of the living room with all the fans pointed towards her. Maybe that would actually cool her once in this hell of a heatwave that they were having.

Feeling amused at herself, she entered the living room only to find that Manx had arrived. He must have just gotten there seeing as he hadn’t come to her art room to bother her. Either that or he was actually choosing to behave for once, which she honestly kind of doubted. Was he even capable of behaving?

“When did you get in?” She glanced at him on her way to the kitchen, then did a small double take. Her gaze had gotten caught on his throat, watching as he unbuttoned his shirt. For a second, she felt the urge her press her lips right there and trail kisses and small bites all the way - 

Nope. Vic shook her head, forcing herself to stop that line of thinking as she moved into the kitchen. The heat was clearly getting to her. “Want something to drink? I made sure to have a freezer full of ice since it’s hotter than hell.” She sighed in relief as she opened the freezer, needing a quick break from the heat, goose pimples rising along her sticky skin as the cool air danced across it. “I don’t see how you can wear so many layers when it’s so hot.” She’d chosen to wear a pair of pajama shorts made of thin, almost see through, material and a spaghetti strap tank top and still thought it was too much. 

She closed the freezer and grabbed a glass, one of the few that wasn’t decorated with some comic book character, and set about filling it up. Vic then grabbed a piece of ice, slowly rubbing it on her neck and collarbone, shivering slightly at the coldness. She glanced back at him, eyes once more catching on that loosened collar. God, why did that appeal to her so much? Like a lot of things that Manx did to drive her crazy, it just wasn’t fair.

[amazingdvils]

@wraith-of-christmas-future asked:

It was with irritation that which fueled the vulgarity of his pursuit, " I made you cum, don’t ignore me. " Venom caressed every vowel deliberately punctilious, reckoning under the malice spawning it.

Animosity darkened his gaze that had displayed various shades of endearment prior. Pressing her back against the wall , with open palm clasping harshly about her throat. Pressurizing the pin whilst the rest of his body crashed atop her. Within the merits of his love corrupted violence, fickle deposits that can quash all tender affection, suddenly ruptured.

[ With love for the Brat. ]

Vic had woken up only a couple of hours prior, sickened from the realization of her bad decision the night before. At first, she had hoped that it was some very vivid dream that Manx had somehow pushed onto her. But the bite marks that colored her flesh, the light ache of her muscles, and the evidence that had been left between her legs had very quickly made her realize that it had actually happened. He had somehow broken her down with just the feel of his teeth on her earlobe, his touch stoking a flame that had brought her to peaks of ecstasy that she’d never really experienced before. 

Not that she was ready to admit that part, however. 

She’d chosen to roll out of bed then, ignoring the fact that Manx was still present in her bed, and had limped to her bathroom. After locking the door behind her, Vic had half stumbled into her shower, body shaking as her mind caught up to the reality of her situation. She’d turned the shower to be as scalding as possible, grimacing as she stepped in. She had then proceeded to spend the next hour beneath the stream, working on trying to scrub away as much evidence as possible. 

The bite marks that littered her skin wouldn’t budge, no matter how much she’d scrubbed at them. However, what was left between her legs had been easily wiped. She shuddered as she realized that she would need to go to the store soon for some Plan B. Like hell was she going to let this bad decision lead to an innocent life being brought into this mess. She had then taken the time to wash her hair slowly, using the familiar motions as a way to soothe her mind. At some point, she’d heard him calling through the door, but had elected to ignore it. Vic really, really didn’t want to face reality at that moment.

By the time that she exited the bathroom, the stream had run ice cold and she was shivering again. She carefully wrapped her hair in a towel before wrapping another around her frame. Still studiously ignoring him, hoping beyond hope that he would give up and leave or wait until she chose to face him, she’d limped over to her closet and pulled out a t-shirt to toss on.

She’d no sooner pulled on the shirt and stepped out of the closet than she’d heard his vulgar statement. Before the Brat could react or fully register what was going on, her back was pressed against the wall. Her left shoulder painfully banged into the doorframe of the closet as his hand grasped her throat, squeezing tight enough for her to see stars. Her green eyes widened in fear as she struggled to gasp for air, her hands moving to scratch at his hand and wrist in an attempt to get him to let her go.

Vic wiggled beneath him, a part of her mind marveling at how quickly things had turned. The same hands that had brought her so much pleasure a few hours prior now intended to harm her once more. His body pressed against her’s, the pressure on her bad leg beyond painful. She gasped and struggled, the edges of her vision already clouding. Tears filled her eyes as a broken whimper escaped the back of her throat.

“Manx! Let…let me go!” The world tilted around them as she struggled, her heart beating in her chest like a hummingbird. It was getting harder and harder to focus. “Charles…Charlie, please! I-I’ll talk to you just…let…me…go! Can’t…can’t talk if…if dead…”

[amazingdvils]

@wraith-of-christmas-future asked:

35) for sender to bite receiver’s lip while kissing 33) for sender to randomly grab receiver’s arm and bite like a love nip.

This was a situation that, only a year ago, Vi/ctoria McQueen never would have thought that she ended up in. She would have never thought that Charles Manx would be alive again, let alone that she would be the one to ( unintentionally on her end ) bring him back. She never would have thought that she would willingly welcome this man into her home, not after everything that had happened between them. And yet here he was, not only in her home welcomed and unscathed, but with his hands on her body as she straddled him on her living room couch. 

Vic had tried to ignore their bond, now strengthened from the time that he’d spent in her mind. She’d tried so hard to ignore the heat that would flare beneath her skin every time that he touched her. She’d even tried to explain away the first time that he’d ended up in her bed, trying to tell herself that it was a bad lapse in judgment and it would never happen again. But then it happened again. And again. And again.

Now, any resistance that she’d once had was completely gone. Her hands were tangled in his thick black hair, moaning softly against his mouth as her hips slowly moved against him. A shiver ran down her spine as his teeth sank into her bottom lip, her fingers tightening in his hair and nails scraping gently against his scalp. She was supposed to have started dinner ten minutes ago when the usual alarm on her phone had gone off, but had found it nearly impossible to pull away when she’d leaned over to give him a quick peck. 

“I-I really should…should start dinner,” she murmured against his mouth, reluctant to pull away from his touch. She wanted nothing more than to stay tangled up in him and allow him to do what he wished with her, but she knew that she had to at least try and stay on her usual schedule. She usually forgot something important, like her meds, if she deviated too much. 

Vic tried to pull away again, only to feel his grasp on her arm. It was shortly followed by the feel of his teeth against her flesh, pulling a moan from her. “Goddamn it, Charlie.” She tried to sound annoyed and firm with him, but it only sounded amused, even to her own ears. One of her hands moved to his face, fingertips running along his jawline. “I really, really need to start dinner and you’re over here, making it impossible for me to even get up. You need to stop.” Despite her words, a small smile appeared on her lips.

[amazingdvils]

@wraith-of-christmas-future asked:

[ BEG ] ; the sender begs the receiver to touch them. ( I added the plus to this for free range if ya want it being during their fights and he just wants to feel her, be it a touch of intent injury or affection. Cause he craves both. Juuuuus' giving ya more options. It's entirely up to you. )

The original intent had been to hit him, to make him hurt, to rip him apart with her bare hands. Vic McQueen had been so sure that she hated Charlie Manx more than she’d ever hated anyone or anything in this world. He’d brought so much destruction into her life, had so very nearly taken her son from her, had so very nearly claimed her life and her sanity. And yet, hadn’t she done the same to him? She’d destroyed his precious Christmasland, had caused him to lose his own daughter, had taken his other children from him. He’d haunted her mind for years afterward, eventually making her a puppet in his resurrection.

The front of his shirt was in her grasp, her free hand curled into a fist. Vic was going to do it, was going to pound at his face until it was nothing but blood and bone. His sudden words felt like a bucket of ice water being dumped over her, causing her to stop abruptly in her movements. Her eyes widened as she realized that he was begging for her touch, not seeming to care whether her intent was to inflict pain or tenderness. Her head tilted to the side, her fist half lifted to strike, as she really studied him.

Vic’s mind suddenly flashed back to the earlobe incident a short time before, how she’d melted against him despite everything. How she’d become so malleable under his touch, how she’d whimpered and writhed for him. He’d fully claimed her that night, leaving marks on her skin that she couldn’t ignore or wish away no matter how much she’d wanted to. And god, had she wanted to. She’d tried so hard to scrub the evidence, but it wouldn’t budge. 

She had told herself that it was a one time thing, a mistake never to be repeated. That fire would never be allowed to rise within her again. She would stop it if it tried. Yet, here she was, feeling the flames twist and stoke in her belly at the sound of his begging. Vic knew that she should release his shirt, ignore his begging, and step away. Put some distance between them and allow herself to cool off, maybe limp right on out the door and take a walk in the cool night air. A walk would cool the flames that threatened to rise again to burn her from the inside out.

“What have you done to me?” Vic hadn’t intended on saying anything, the words tumbling from her lips in a wondering whisper before she could stop them. He had to have done something to her brain during the time that he’d been in there. Perhaps he’d found some sort of generator thing that he’d taken the time to rewire, sort of like in that horror game that Wayne had been obsessed with over the past couple of years. That had to be the only explanation, right? She really couldn’t be drawn to anyone like this, let alone Manx. Not after everything that had happened between them.

The fist loosened, her hand moving forward once again. This time, however, the intent wasn’t to harm. Her fingers tenderly traced along his jawline, her mind remembering how his lips and teeth had felt against her yearning flesh. The fire rose from her belly, burning in her chest and just beneath her skin. The hand that was curled in the fabric of his shirt tugged at him, trying to bring him closer to her. Her lips pressed against his, her hunger rising as she tasted him. Her teeth lightly caught his bottom lip, holding it captive for a moment. 

The rage that she’d felt earlier had fled, giving way to a desire that she both yearned for and loathed. “I hate you so much, Charles Manx,” she murmured. Her lips were still mostly pressed against his, the words muffled “I hate everything that you’ve done to me. I hate how you make me feel. I hate how this fire is going to fuckin’ burn me from the inside out.” 

She was suddenly kissing down his jawline, her body pressing against his. Her teeth nipped at his earlobe, an echo of what he’d done to her last time. “Most of all, I hate how badly I want you to fuck me senseless.” Her mind was in tangles, a part of her screaming that she needed to put a stop to this. But it was too late, wasn’t it? It had been too late the moment that he’d nipped at her earlobe last time and she’d succumbed instead of pulling away. “Please, Charles.” Now, she was the one begging. How quickly this had all turned around.

[amazingdvils]

@wraith-of-christmas-future asked:

[ EAR ] ; the sender bites the receiver’s earlobe.

She should have known that this would happen sooner or later, one way or another. If there was anything that Vic McQueen was good at in this life, it was making self destructive choices. Her drinking problem, her coke addiction, setting the old townhouse on fire, missing that court date all those years ago. She’d proven to herself and to those around her that her specialty was destroying her own life in interesting ways. Yet, she’d reigned in those impulses since that final showdown on the Shorter Way when she’d originally thought that Charlie Manx was gone for good.

But he wasn’t. He had found a way back and now he was here, his body against hers, his teeth pressing into the flesh of her earlobe. Her hands moved to his shoulders, fingers clutching at the fabric. The half formed thought in her mind was to push him away from her, to get him away from her. The feel of his teeth had set a fire burning beneath her skin and she needed it to stop. It was making it hard to think clearly. However, she felt dizzy when she realized that she was doing the opposite, pulling him closer, her body pressing against his even more. 

Vic’s lips parted, intending to tell him to stop. Instead, something between a sigh and a soft moan escaped her throat. She found her head tilting, allowing him better access to the sensitive skin of her neck and ear, inviting him to continue. “Please,” she finally managed to utter, the phrase a soft whimper. Please, what? Please stop? Please never stop? Please keep going? Even she couldn’t really fathom what she meant in that moment. The flames that danced beneath her skin were consuming her from the inside out, burning her alive, making it nearly impossible to think clearly.

One of her hands moved from his shoulder, sliding around the back of his neck. Nails scraped against the skin as her hand moved upward, tangling in his dark hair. “Charlie,” she whimpered. The utterance of his name was a white flag, a way of admitting her surrender to his touch. The fire that he had stoked within her was too much to fight. At this point, it was simply easier to just give in and deal with the weight of it all later. She was honestly surprised that she simply didn’t combust from the heat of it all as she tilted her head, lips pressing against the side of his neck.

[amazingdvils]

V.ictoria McQueen was by no means a hateful person, even after all that had happened. She found it to be a waste of energy, which was something that she’d had so little of since the semi-collapse of the Shorter Way. She got mildly annoyed at inconveniences, but often found that she didn’t even have the energy to keep that up. A side effect of the pills, she’d supposed. But Manx, Manx was always the exception. Her feelings for him came easily and provided its own sort of energy rather than drain her finite reserve. That frantic mixed energy had pumped  the adrenaline into her veins, and had quickly pushed her the short distance between the kitchen counter and where he stood, blade pressing into his flesh.

The way that he crooned her name sent a shiver down her spine, the hand that wasn’t holding the blade white knuckling the cane that she now had to use to help her move. Teeth gritted as his words washed over her, a denial sitting in the back of her throat. Yet, she was unable to utter the words. She was paralyzed by the fact that he was completely and utterly correct. His presence was like a strange sort of electricity to her, charging and pushing her into action. The blade pressed a little more against pale skin, but she knew it was useless. If he was really and truly standing there, if it wasn’t some twisted hallucination, then any damage inflicted wouldn’t be permanent. She’d have to damage the Wraith and she doubted that reaching the cursed car would be quite that easy.

“Fuck you,” she spat, as eloquent as ever. It was a statement caught somewhere between the yearn of denial and the acknowledgement of the truth. “What are you doing here?” There was a deceptive calmness to her words that hid the fearful fluttering of her heart. The hand holding the knife was steady enough, but her bad leg trembled as painful fire shot through her from the bottom of her foot all the way up to her hip. She hoped that, hallucination or not, she could be rid of him soon. She had no idea how long she would be able to remain standing and she was damned if she was going to show this man any form of weakness.

@wraith-of-christmas-future / response to x