#vic mcqueen x charlie manx

[peculiarparasol]

The Wraith's Choice : Chapter 22

[ha-ha-problemtic-shit-go-brrr]

Hi! Could I ask for a Vic McQueen/Charlie Manx moodboard, from "NOS4A2"? Thank you so much! 😊

Thanks for requesting and introducing me to NOS4A2!

(REQUESTS OPEN)

[cherry-moonlight]

Life Could Be A Dream - Chapter Five

{NOS4A2 - Charlie Manx x Reader}

{A/N} Sorry this one took a little longer, mid-chapter my wrists started acting up. Carpal tunnel is a monster. D: Anyways, I hope you enjoy and that I’m doing our beloved Charlie some justice at least so far. <3 Warnings: None.

Chapter Five - This Isn’t Real

My voice had returned and my mind was racing even more than I expected it could’ve when Vic stopped talking. She picked up a pen from the table we sat at in the kitchen and fidgeted with it, clicking the top a few times as she looked me in the eye. It was clear she was waiting for any kind of response to the boatload of information she’d dumped on me.

“So I’m a… strong creative,” I made air quotes around the words that sounded more like a question than a statement.

She looked at me and nodded. “You don’t need to lose your voice every time you use it, though. I have a friend who’s just like us. Her name’s Maggie.. She figured out how to keep herself from dealing with the cost of using her gift.”

“What’s her gift?” I interrupted, curious.

“Her tiles,” she rasped. “She has a purple bag with scrabble tiles in them. They’ll tell you anything you want or need to know as long as you ask them. But, we have gotten the tiles mixed up before.”

All of this sounded like some magical bologna that I could’ve found in a novel somewhere, and had I not used my gift myself and seen the outcome with my own eyes, I would’ve laughed and told her she was losing her mind.

“Anyway, Maggie told me you either have to hurt yourself… or someone else.”

It sounded as though she was reluctant to tell me the latter of the two options.

“What’s the cost of your gift?” I asked again.

She hesitated, setting the pen down and looking me in the eye. “My eye,” was all she said, and I put it together.

I had seen her come back countless times that week with a bloodied eye, but the last time it seemed to have gotten worse. When we left Christmasland, it was bleeding. It all clicked then.

“But Maggie burns herself with a cigarette every time she uses her tiles,” she continued. “I’m sure you can find something to keep you from losing your voice. You have to focus on the pain in order to make it work. But don’t hurt people, {Y/N}.”

I nodded, taking mental notes of her advice. I’d never been told to hurt myself for any reason before but I guessed there were a lot of things that were new to me when it came to this seemingly supernatural situation. My lungs filled with air as I absentmindedly sighed. It felt as though I was thrust into a film and forced to figure out the plot. I was more thankful for Vic than I could’ve ever expressed.

The clock on the wall felt as though it ticked slower than usual as I realized how late it was. Time had gotten away from all of us once we’d started looking for Wayne together. After Vic extracted me from Christmasland on her dirt bike through the tunnel I saw in the forest, she instructed me not to say a word to anyone about what had happened. Wanting to gain her trust enough to figure out what all of this meant, I complied. Once we arrived back at their place and Lou went to bed, she stayed up to elucidate what was going on. But before she got into my gift, she explained that hers was not what I thought was a tunnel, but the bridge.

She called it an inscape. Her “shorter way.”  

But after all of our efforts, it came to be that Wayne hadn’t actually been missing. He’d simply run off to play and threw Vic and Lou -and me- into a spiral of worry. Or at least, that was his story and he was sticking to it.

“Your knife is your voice,” she began again. “And your inscape…” Her brow furrowed as she looked around, picking up the pen again. “Well, I’m not sure. What were you doing when you found Christmasland?”

“Singing,” I said immediately. “I was looking for Wayne and singing.”

She clicked the pen on the table a few times, looking as though she were completely uneasy.

“Maybe you have a shorter way, too,” she swallowed hard, as though that wasn’t the first thing to come to mind.

“But Wayne was never at Christmasland,” I added.

“No.. No he wasn’t. But that bastard Charlie Manx is trying to change that.”

Ah. Charlie Manx.

The man of the evening that I wanted desperately to know so much more about. Vic had abruptly taken me from Christmasland without so much as an explanation, and at least now I knew why she was there. Still, curiosity had gotten the better of me to say the least. He was all I could think about during our search for Wayne and I was slightly bitter that I didn’t get to figure out what I was doing at the winter wonderland in the past through questioning him. He seemed to know far more about me than I knew about myself.

“What about him, anyway?” I questioned, trying not to sound as though I were too excited to get into the subject. “Who is he? What is Christmasland? Where is Christmasland?”

She leaned back in the chair, slipping out of her motorcycle jacket and hanging it on the backrest as her eyes seemed to grow dark.

“Christmasland is Charlie Manx’s inscape. It’s just a big, intricate figment of his sick imagination. His knife is a classic Rolls Royce Wraith, and he picks up innocent kids and he kidnaps them with it, and then brings them to Christmasland.”

Her voice became rushed and shaky.

“Once they’re there.. Well, I don’t know if they ever get out. They turn into something else.. Something inhuman. They attack people and they think he’s their father.”

She spit the words out like venom on the tongue. I wasn’t sure why, but I almost felt offended that she was speaking of him that way. My thoughts drifted back to when he called me by his last name.

“He thinks he’s doing them a service, these kids, by taking them from what he calls “neglectful parents” and giving them the home they never had,” her expression twisted into a cringe. “It’s somethin’ out of a horror movie. Probably why the plate on the Wraith says Nosferatu…” she finished, the statement sounding like a solemn attempt at a joke.

I had a voice now but I still sat in silence, mulling over everything she’d said. It was easy to remain quiet, especially when I had no idea how to handle what was going on when none of it seemed real. It was a lot to grasp, but the more information I had, the better. I must’ve looked as though I were deep in thoughts I shouldn’t have been having, because she reached over and grabbed my wrist then, her slender fingers squeezing it tightly.

“You can’t go back to Christmasland, {Y/N}. No matter what you do or what you think you need. It’s not safe. He’ll kill you. He’s tried to kill me, and Maggie, and..” she trailed off, clearly remembering something else. “Just don’t go, okay? Promise me.”

Somewhere deep in my chest, I felt a pang of hurt again. That kind of sensation where your heart breaks and you know the tears are next. Holding it in, I looked her in the eye, and against what I knew I wanted, I nodded.

“I promise.”

-x-x-x-

This was all more information than I could process in a day. My eyes were heavy as I layed on the couch and pulled the fuzzy blanket they’d given me over my shoulders. The house creaked and groaned occasionally as it settled for the night and it was warm and cozy inside despite the chill outside.

My day had been long and confusing, from the funeral, to visiting my house to grab my things, to finding myself at Christmasland. While I knew I promised Vic I’d never go back, I couldn’t shake the thought of it. The way the snow glistened under the lights; the way the maze of ice seemed to go for miles; the way the houses looked like gingerbread creations and— the way he smiled. His dark, deep set eyes narrowing at the corners just a bit as his lips pulled upwards with them. As though he had a million secrets and he was about to let you in on every single one of them.

I rolled over on the couch, and tried to think of something else as I dozed off, but I couldn’t help that my thoughts were too adamant for my own good. I didn’t understand how I could’ve been so captivated by him, especially after Vic’s rendition of Charlie as she knew him. Something deep inside told me I knew another version, and I just had to figure out which. But I’d made a promise to her, and learning about him personally was no longer an option. No matter how hard I tried to think of anything else, the last fragments of imagination that materialized behind my eyelids were of him.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the road to what I thought before was nowhere. The snow topped trees lined either side, but the moon in the sky was brighter than usual— in fact, so were the stars and everything else that surrounded me. The entire Milky Way could be seen above me, and everything I set eyes on was awe inspiring. Studying myself, I noticed I wore a deep crimson rockabilly halter dress with a big black bow tied in the back. I felt like a present wrapped under a tree, and while dresses weren’t my norm, I felt just as pretty as the atmosphere around me.

Oh, it was my usual dream, but it seemed every time I dreamt it, the more it changed. This time, it was gorgeous.

Snowflakes fell like glitter as I made my way forward, admiring the beauty of the surreal world that surrounded me. It was as though everything was suddenly clearer; as though my place in this icy dreamscape was solidified. My ears caught vague hints of the song that brought me to Christmasland, and I quickly realized that I was facing the wrong way. The twinkling lights weren’t ahead of me anymore, but a spectrum of colorful lights caught my attention as they reflected against the snow from behind me. With a deep breath I tried to conceal my smile. If I couldn’t visit it in real life anymore, my dreams did me the honor.

Upon turning around, I was met with the sight of Christmasland’s gates just up ahead. I’d finally reached my destination, and I knew exactly what my dream was all about. The entire time my subconscious was trying to remind me of a memory; a memory I’d soon revisit.

Seemed a little dramatic to me to have the dream so often, especially after how short my time there was, but at least I knew. I knew that there was more to me than just being the girl with a rough past and an unstable future.

When I took a step forward, I heard his voice.

“It is wonderful, isn’t it?” He said somewhat wistfully.

Charlie had appeared next to me at some point and I hadn’t even noticed in my mystified state. Still, just as he had in person, he stood a small distance away from me. I hoped my voice worked this time as I opened my mouth to speak.

“It’s beautiful,” I smiled.

Thank goodness I still had my voice. However, I had to remind myself this was only a dream. Even if it was lucid, it mattered not what I said or how I said it. But it was still the only chance I’d get to immerse myself in whatever fantasy this was anymore. It was the only place I could let my desires run freely without the repercussions of losing my only friend, and really, my only hope as survival. I rolled with my audience of Charlie Manx. Maybe my subconscious could answer a few of my burning questions about the situation, but he spoke before I could again.

“I must say, I was surprised to see you so quickly after your mother’s passing. My condolences..” He ended his sentence with a hint of joy, as though he were glad the death of my mother brought me to Christmasland, accident or not.

“It wasn’t my intention, but I guess it was meant to happen.”

I held my hands in front of me, letting our eyes meet. The electricity I felt buzzed through the air. I didn’t know what to make of it, but I didn’t want to lose myself so soon in the illusion. Fidgeting with the ends of my hair, I stood taller and began my small line of questioning.

“What is this place? Why do you know me?”

There was a glint in his eye as I spoke to him, as though he were absorbing my voice, some kind of odd pride becoming him. With a wave of his hand to gesture me to follow, he began a stroll towards the gates. I did as he suggested, wanting to hear what he was going to say.

“What do you remember?” He countered instead.

Damn it.

I tried my best to pull any memory I could from the darkest parts of my mind, sighing with a faint shrug.

“Not much.. I remember riding the carousel.. And playing the carnival games. Running between the flashing lights and laughing with other children,” I tried to rattle off, hoping a new memory would suddenly appear. “I remember how to get out of the maze, but I can’t remember ever being there..”

I peeked over at him.

“You did love the carousel,” was all he said, like he was waiting for me to make a breakthrough on my own. Until he spoke again.

“You were a model child at Christmasland, my dear. You played well with the others, made sure no one was left out. In fact, you enjoyed Millie’s company very much.”

Millie…

The name rang a bell, but before I had time to ask, he continued.

“You came to us one day quite on your own, which hadn’t happened before, and hasn’t happened again. I’m sure you’ve realized by now that that voice of yours brings you to Christmasland. Of course, you didn’t know that the night your father laid hands on your mother. But you left your cruel home to soothe yourself with song. The next thing we all knew, there you were. Tearful, and quite pitiful-looking outside of the Candy Cane Gates.”  

“I came here on my own..” I reworded out loud, attempting to piece together any thoughts from that night.

It happened in my house more often than not, more often than anyone should’ve endured or any child should’ve seen. I remembered the night I left, the only night I left. For the life of me, I could not remember singing my way to Christmasland. At the same time, it was nice to hear that my scrambled memories weren’t just things I’d made up or imagined. They were real. I was there. Then again, no matter how vivid the entire dream was, I had to remind myself it was just that. A dream. This was all coming from my own mind.

“From then on we took you in,” he finished. “I knew there was something special about you.. That you were a strong creative, just as myself. That, and you wouldn’t have dreamed of putting yourself in a predicament that would place you on the naughty list.”

He offered a charming smirk at his quirky bit of information about me and I looked away, fighting the pull towards him I felt when he did. I assumed that my need to be good was out of fear after what Vic told me about him. But what he said next surprised me.

“You must bring Bruce Wayne McQueen to me, {Y/N}.”

My brows pinched together almost immediately. Victoria was right.. Or was this just my subconscious making Victoria right?

“Why?” was all I said.

“Because he wants to be here, with me, my dear. He’s told me so himself. I was well on my way to helping him, and then you made an appearance at Christmasland.. I’m man enough to admit that your surprise arrival distracted me enough to let the boy slip away. You must help me get him back now. Do not listen to Victoria. She doesn’t understand how unhappy her son is. He longs to join me and the other children. To finally be safe from her derelict ways of alcoholism and neglect.”

For being my dream, the request was odd.

“I— I would never bring Wayne here.. Vic told me all about you. All about how you think you’re doing right by these children but you’re not. I would never betray her like that. She’s given me a home when she didn’t...“  I cut myself off and regrouped, not wanting to get personal, whether it was real or not.

Despite my rattling off, he didn’t make a sound. He simply let me, as though he knew something I didn’t. As though it didn’t matter what I said, because he would find his way anyway.

“This isn’t even real.” I continued, stopping in my tracks, not moving any further towards the gates. “You’re not here. I don’t know why my thoughts are panning out this way, but I’m not bringing Wayne to Christmasland. I don’t know why I chose to stay here when I was a kid but I have a feeling I didn’t have a choice.”

He stopped several ahead and turned to face me. Shaking my head, I ran my hand back through my hair and dared to let my eyes rest on his again. There was a hint of sorrow in his eyes, like I’d disappointed him— but only for a second. I immediately began to speak again.

“This isn’t real,” I repeated, though I wasn’t sure who I was trying to convince anymore.  

“Not real?” The expression on his handsome features changed into something near mischievousness as he arched a single thick brow and approached me. It was the closest he’d gotten to me since we’d met again.

My heart pounded in my chest as I wondered what was going to happen. Each step he took was slow and calculated. It felt as though he didn’t want to get so close, but had a point to prove in doing so. My dress began to feel tight around my chest as I tried to steady my breathing.

Can you die from a dream?

He towered over me once we were opposite each other, and I allowed myself to look up, holding his gaze. Swallowing hard, I inhaled deeply and waited for whatever fate was to become me, mustering the strength to endure whatever was going to happen should I not wake up. It crossed my mind to pinch myself; to wake up before anything traumatic happened. But something within me wanted to stay. It was a strange sensation to stare what might’ve been my brightest dream or darkest nightmare in the face and not know which way the chips were going to fall.

Confusion was all I could sift through when his large hand reached for my neck, placing his thumb and index finger on either side of it as his palm rested lightly against my clavicle. I watched his features, noticing his jaw clench just enough for me to wonder if I had imagined it.

My {E/C} eyes were full of fear that I knew he had to see, but I stood still, waiting for his grip to tighten or his careful movements to turn into some kind of gruesome act. But as the seconds passed, I instead felt how cold his hand was despite not feeling the chill in the air around us; how gentle his touch was against my warm flesh. He treated me as though I were a porcelain doll, set to break at any moment if he made the wrong move. The faintest of smiles placed itself on his lips then, and my heart kicked up for a different reason that I hoped he couldn’t detect in my pulse.

“Wake up,” he instructed, showing off the velvet in his voice.

I gasped awake. Blinking my eyes rapidly through the blackness that was the dark room to gain any kind of clarity about my surroundings. I haphazardly reached over to the coffee table in front of the couch, tapping my phone’s screen for the time before looking around the room through the small amount of light. It was the middle of the night and I was still at Vic’s. Of course the dream wasn’t real. A quiet laugh passed through my nose as I shook my head and settled back into the couch, listening to the quietness around me. Almost hoping deep down that I would hear his voice again. But it all was silent.

What a strange dream it had been this time.

Charlie Manx had certainly made an impression on me, and I wasn’t sure yet in what kind of way. I didn’t want to think I was infatuated by his charm and devilish good looks, but it seemed more and more that I couldn’t deny the feeling. At least the only place I’d ever see him anymore was in my dreams. I couldn’t break my promise to Vic.

As I laid back down and stared up into the darkness of the ceiling, I let my hand linger up to my neck where his hand had been in my dream.

I bolted upright again when I felt a necklace that wasn’t there before.

My fingers swiftly felt around for a pendant or any sort of indication of what the piece of jewelry contained, and when I found it, I lost my breath altogether. Remaining deathly still, I held it.

It was the locket I’d hidden in my little cedar chest for years.

[allyvampirelass29]

The Lost Boy

A NOS4A2 Fanfiction By: Allyssa J. Watkins

"Vicki? Where are you!? Vicki, come here!"

"You're scarin' her, Linda, all your damn screechin'! Brat? Baby, come back here."

"Yeah, sure, Chris, you're the one drinkin' and throwin' whiskey bottles, and actin' like a freakin' lunatic, but my voice is scarin' our daughter! GOD, Mister Hero, and I'm always the BAD GUY!!! Damn it, Vicki, I SAID come here!!!"

Eight year old Vic McQueen hugged her denim jacket with the pink sparkly stars on the shoulders, tighter around her, rolling her dark eyes, as her parents fought in the open doorway. Biting her lip, she snuck her way around the side of the house, climbing on her red bike, pedaling away, shooting a quick glance over her shoulder, to make sure she wasn't being followed.

"Do they always engage in so unsightly a row?"

Vic squeezed the brakes on her handlebars with a gasp, her unruly brown curls falling in her eyes, as she stopped short, swerving, just narrowly missing the older boy, standing in the street.

"Geeze, Pal, ain't your mother never told you not to play in the street? What? D'you want to get hit by a car or somethin'? What's that mean anyway, row?"

"Feisty for a girl, aren't you?" The older boy, about twelve chuckled, adjusting his red silk kerchief, and dusting off his black vest. Vic was sure she'd never seen him before, dark wavy hair, and them thick eyebrows, he sure didn't sound like he come from Haverhill.

"Yeah, what of it?" She shot back, raising her chin defiantly, balancing on her bike. "Girls can be just a tough as boys, y'know? Ask Danny Merckle, I popped him one good. And if row means raise the dead with a lot of damn noise, then yeah, they sure row a lot."

The dark, mysterious boy shook his head with a smirk. "Girls shouldn't curse, nor should they engage in fisticuffs."

"That mean scrappin'?" She asked, screwing up her little face. Geeze what an oddball, this guy.

"More or less," The boy shrugged his shoulders.

"Yeah, well, I ain't exactly the type to play with dolls," She shot back, and he smiled again, his head tilted.

"So I see...... Well, Feisty, to answer your earlier question, no. My mother practically told me to go play in the street, nor would she have batted an eyelash if I'd gotten run over like a stray."

"Man ALIVE, your Old Lady is worse than mine!!!" Vic gasped, and she couldn't help but notice how sad the boys eyes looked. Real damn sad.

"You have NO idea, he said with a sigh," And they both jumped as the front door to Vic's house slammed shut.

"That's my cue," She whispered, leaning forward to pedal away again, when the older boy, grabbed one of the handlebars. "Hey, watch it guy, cant'cha see I'm tryin' to make a break for it?"

"I'm sorry." He said softly, his eyes going all sad again. "I'm sorry, you have to listen to them fight, and throw things, but you don't have to be scared."

"I ain't- I ain't scared," Vic's shoulders bristled, and the boy watched unconvinced as her lip quivered, and the autumn light caught in her pink sequins.

"It's okay..... to be scared. I am, sometimes."

"Pshhh are you kidding me?" Vic scoffed, resting her arms on the handlebars. "What's a tall guy like you got to be scared of, huh? Yeah, your old lady sounds like a witch, but, c'mon she's still your ma. She might carry on, but they love us. They gotta, right?"

The boy smiled again, but it was very sad. "One can only hope, Feisty. May I....... accompany you, on your daring getaway?"

"If that's fancy talk for tag along, then yeah sure." Vic shrugged her shoulders. "Damn, you're sure different, most boys older 'an me just want to push me around, you know, pick on me."

Vic pedaled down the sidewalk, away from her house, the sun hanging low in the sky, as the boy in the red kerchief walked alongside her, fighting his smile.

"I can't imagine anyone pushing you around. You're quite the novelty to me too."

"Thanks....... I think," Vic looked at him, scrunching up her brow. "So you got a rough home life too huh?"

"Horrendously so...... Your father may take to the drink, but I have the great misfortune of living in a bar, surrounded constantly by drunkards, and my mother, let's just say....... has a lot of boyfriends."

"No foolin'? GOD, that's gotta be some kind of awful! Folks get bonkers when they're drunk, at least mine come home...... most of the time, anyways. Boyfriends huh? What about your old man? Mine's a drinker, yeah, but he ain't all bad. He makes me laugh, y'know?"

"I don't have one...... I mean, I do, of course, but....... his identity could never in probability be ascertained. Whomever he is, he sure did not want me."

"God....... That's real rough. Everybody needs a dad......."

Vic's front tire hit a rock, and she swerved, accidently slamming into the boy, and he groaned as he fell back hard.

"Yikes! Holy sh- Are you okay?" She yelled, leapfrogging off her bike, kneeling down beside him, reaching to help him up, when she saw them....... "Hold on, guy, there's something on your neck there......"

"I'm perfectly sound, just a little jostled, hey, stop that, what are doing?"

Vic pulled off his silk handkerchief, and his hands flew to his neck, nervously. "Give it back."

"Hey........" Vic frowned, pursing her lip, and the boy shuddered, as she leaned over him, and pulled down his shirt collar. "You're bruised somethin' awful....... Did I-?"

"No-" He snapped quickly, leaping to his feet, one hand still hovering over his neck, the other held out impatiently, wiggling his fingers. "That's mine, thank you very much."

"No." She shook her rebellious curls stubbornly, clutching the kerchief tight. "You're not getting it back until you tell me....... Who did that to you, huh? You get in one of them rows with somebody?"

"Something like that...... Now give it, before I take it from you......." He scowled, knitting his dark brow.

"Like to see you try it, Buddy," She snarked back, holding it behind her back. "Who whaled on you, tell me....... It couldn't have been your old lady, c'mon."

The boy tried to look angry, tried to hide the guilt, and shame in his eyes, but they pierced through the dark shine, and he sighed, hanging his head. It was then Vic noticed the cuff on his sleeve had inched up, revealing the dark circles of even more bruises.

She gasped, her little hand flying to her mouth, slowly handing him the kerchief, which he snatched back, and carefully re-tied.

"I take it back...... Your mother's a witch with a "b."

The older boy couldn't stifle his smirk, hastily pulling down his long, starch white sleeve, fiddling with it. "Quite so."

"My ma used to get mad, and slap me around sometimes when I was talking back, but....... she ain't never left bruises like that....... You got to get yourself the hell out of there.

"I will....... Someday." He shrugged, hands in his pockets, and Vic walked her red bike alongside him, the sun casting long shadows behind them. "Someday, I'll drive away, in a fancy car, somewhere no one will ever hurt me again.

"Sounds real good, guy. You ever need a friend, you got one in Vic McQueen."

"Who's Vic McQueen?"

"Me, Stupid!" Vic laughed, elbowing him in the ribs. "You got a name, Kerchief?"

The dark-eyed boy smirked, bowing graciously, with a flourish of his hand. "Charlie Manx, at your service."

"God, you are so freaking weird. Well, put 'er there, Charlie!" Vic beamed, holding out her little hand with a smug grin, and hesitantly, Charlie took it, with a firm shake.

"A pleasure, Victoria."

Charlie Manx awoke with a jolt, bolting upright in bed, his hands flying instinctively to his neck, and he shivered, the sweat cooling on his skin.

"What on GOD'S green earth was that......!?"

His palm slid slowly down his neck, and he felt the pale brunette slumbering beside him stir, but she didn't fully wake. He stroked her face, breathing heavy, envying her expression of heavenly peace. How perfectly dreadful....... How dare you, Victoria....... Damn you, invading my sacred dreams, unearthing my- my secrets and shames. He rubbed his neck again, finding it still bare, and free of bruises, his skin, of course, flawless.

The angry tears stung his eyes, and he wiped them furiously away, his thumb circling his wrist over and over........ He had to admit this miniature McQueen wasn't quite so irksome....... Little Victoria was so far removed from her scathing, impulsive, teenage self, that there was something almost endearing about her, fussing over him and his boyhood inflictions. “How odd to think of us together, Victoria, as children, the bruised yield of broken homes. What might you have thought of him, The Lost Boy without his Neverland? We might even have been friends.......... How's that for a scary thought?”

He slowly fell back back onto the bed, his silky raven head sinking into the soft pillow, and he froze as his sleeping beauty whimpered, and eased her body against his, skin melting against skin, laying her crown of shiny curls on his bare chest.

"This one......." Charlie breathed, flaring his nostrils in a sigh, his claws caressing her luxurious curls, letting them sift, one by one, through his fingers. "She had a much different upbringing than the two of us........ An ideal childhood, and I envy her, Vic........ I envied her, her happiness, yes, I watched her grow up, loved, cared for, precious in her mother's eyes, and I ached to know what that was like....... To flourish in a tended garden, instead of left neglected in the thistle........ Ironic, isn't it......? She would have had no need of me to come, and spirit her away to Christmasland, and yet you....... who despise it most of all........ were exactly the kind of girl I would have saved.

He ran his hands through his mussed coif, his obsidian strands damp with sweat. "Imagine us, Vic, as childhood friends, the feisty girl, and the dapper dan, creating together, walking worlds that others can't even imagine....... Look at us now, scrapping, as you so eloquently phrased it, for a chance to kill each other, and I feel the swelter of your hatred, but even you can't deny that we....... are not so different."

I'm going to have to kill you, there's no way around that, not now. And I'm going to enjoy it, have fun, get...... creative with your meticulous undoing. He chuckled to himself, winding one of Ally's ringlets around and around his finger, with a menacing smirk. But that does not mean I won't miss this, our delicious conflict, the obscene pleasure that comes in hating you, hurting you....... In a perfect world, I would have you both, my conflicting passions, satisfied, her pleasure, your pain, my ultimate fantasy. But this one....... She was made too tender, Vic. Where your parents' endangerment hardened you an edge, this one feels too deeply through another's heart, even yours. She couldn't love a man that inflicts pain with such indecent pleasure, courting her tenderly with the same hand that harms you. In time, she will beg me to stop, fling herself at my feet, sobbing bitterly while you bleed, and being so affected by her, I will grant her wish. I will grant yours as well, and finally finish it, quell your flame, waste all of that Creative potential, killing you in secret. Then I'll tell her, Vic, I'll tell her I let you go.......

Charlie felt his heart quicken, imagining Victoria's aghast face, as though she were listening to his thoughts, racing by in a frenzy. That's right, My Feisty One, I'll make myself the hero of our doomed fable, and say I've decided to give up our fantastic feud, all for her, because she's changed my heart, absolved me of my sins, and she'll love me for it, Vic, praise me, reward me, even while you lay dead in the frozen wilderness. He closed his eyes, with a dark chuckle, a sinful breath escaping. You'd hate that, wouldn't you, Victoria? ANSWER ME!!! Tell me how much you'd hate that.......

You're messed up, Pal. You do that, and you're worse than your slap happy old lady.

Charlie's eyelashes fluttered open as he heard Little Vic's angry voice linger in his mind.

That's enough out of you, Young Lady. Only good girls get to go to Christmasland, and you've long outstayed your welcome.

You want me to scram? Make me.

Oh, I intend to....... Consider yourself grounded.

He simpered, feeling blissful, pressed against his wife's womanly warmth, visions of battling Vic frolicking through his head, as he smelled Ally's hair. You make me so happy, the both of you........ In hating one, and loving the other, The Lost Boy became a found man. You might not be one to play with dolls, Vic, but I certainly am......... And I don't intend to share.

[rosevanhelsing]

Wendigo

Chapter 10

Henry installed his guests in the drawing room and said:

- Make yourself comfortable. Now I will explain my research, although your collaboration would be great for me…. Do you want something to drink?

-First of all,- Charlie cut him off, -I want to know how you found out about the existence of creative souls.

- Ah, that… well, it's very simple. I had a girlfriend when I was 16 who was. One day I discovered her making use of her power. And she was forced to explain it to me

-What power did she have? -Asked Vic intrigued

-I could see things of all kinds in her mirror. She said that she allowed him to cut the veil between the real world and the thought world and she could see things of the past, of the present and of possible futures. But that power had a very high cost for her….

-What happened to her?

-When she was 20 years old she became blind and could no longer use her power. She was so depressed that she smashed her mirror and cut her veins on the pieces of glass.

-Christ! - Vic said- poor thing.

-And you? Does it also have a cost for you? Which?

Vic opened her mouth to reply but Charlie gently covered it with his hand and said:

- For each creative soul it is different. And do not be offended but we just met you, so for now we will be discreet with our "personal" matters .- Charlie said quite curtly.

 - You're right, excuse me. - Said Henry.- Well, she told me that there were more like her and after her death I wanted to investigate everything about you. And I have to say that it is extremely difficult to discover you ... but as a Historian I looked in the past to find your origins.

-And did you get something clear? - Vic said

- I found things here and there. Articles from old newspapers with inexplicable events, chronicles, fragments of personal diaries ... I was also able to trace two families that came from Europe and that inexplicable things were happening around them, which made me suspect that one or more of their members could be creative souls.  The families I am referring to are the Locke * family who settled in Lovecraft (Massachusetts) and the McQueen family

- Sorry, did McQueen say?

- Yes, Miss. Is your last name like that?

She nodded. Henry continued with his speech

- Well. Then I'll focus on the McQueen family. He  rummaged through some papers that he had on the table - Many years ago, a member of this family was tried for ...

- Cannibalism? - Vic mused with a trembling voice

-Yes ... but how do you know?

- Remember that the powers of a creative soul carry a cost, right? - said Manx- but this cost can be compensated in two ways: you hurt someone or you inflict it on yourself. An acquaintance told us that he had heard that many years ago a creative soul had made up for the cost of its power by eating human flesh, but he did not know the name.

- Very interesting… - said Henry writing down the data in a notebook- well the subject we talked about was called James McQueen…. He had dealings with the Micmacs and lived in the Passamaquody Lake area...

Vic's blood ran cold, they were too coincidences... and she said:

- Is there any way to find out if that man and I were related? You see, there is a man chasing us, his name is James and his nickname is Wendigo.

- Well, well, very curious ... Henry wrote down more information in his notebook and added- I could try to find out by your family tree to see if you has any relationship with that person that I mentioned  but I would need some more information about your family. As for his pursuer, it would have to be with DNA ...

- And where do you get that DNA thing from? Asked Charlie

- From the blood or from the hair- Vic said

 Charlie went to the garage and came back with the autopsy hammer and placed it on the table, it had blood and Wendigo hair on it.

- Would that help to find that DNA?

- Yes of course. Wait,  a while ago I wanted to study if creative souls had some kind of genetic peculiarity, a mutant gene as it were ... so I bought some kits that some laboratories sell in which they analyze your DNA and tell you where you come from ... but I have a trusted source at the University. Do you consent to me, Miss McQueen?

-Yes

Henry took blood samples from the hammer, placed them in a bag and labeled it, then took Vic's saliva sample.

- Well, let's see what my friend finds, but it will take a few days. And you, Mr. Manx, would you please give me a little of his DNA?

- Leave me alone…

- I'd love a DNA sample from you. You see, one of my most plausible theories is that gift comes from some mutated gene and I'd like to see if that's true. It also occurred to me that it could be hereditary ...

- I don't think so-  Charlie said.- My mother was a common and ordinary woman, just like Vic McQueen's father. And our children so far have never given any indication of being so. But if you insist so much on knowing why we are special, I will do you the favor of giving you my saliva or my hair. But I think it  goes beyond blood… we have a magical gift.

Henry gave Charlie the sample stick and he got chills when he saw Charlie's pointed teeth as he took the sample. Charlie also gave him a small lock of hair.

- Great. That will help me a lot. Tomorrow I will take the samples. It's very late, why don't you spend the night at my house? I can leave you a bed or the sofa

- The truth is that it would be good for me to rest. - Vic said- I'm going to make a call and lie down a bit on the sofa

- I'm going to sleep in the car. - said Charlie

Vic called Lou and explained everything. Lou got excited about the doctor's theory.

- Wow, so you could be a mutant like in X -Men ...

-Maybe, but what scares me, Lou, is that maybe I’m related to this Wendigo.

- Vic, for the love of God, you've never hurt anyone to use your bridge, right?  Well then it is evident that you are not like him, nor like Manx.

- Good night, Lou. Tomorrow I will come home.

- I love you. By the way, I wanted to tell you something about Wayne's birthday present.

- Great, we'll talk about it tomorrow.

After a while, Charlie and Vic were peacefully asleep.

[bunnylouisegrimes]

Her Savior, Her Nosferatu (NOS4A2 Fanfiction)

Her Savior, Her Nosferatu

A NOS4A2 Fanfiction

By: Bunny Louise Grimes

A/N: This (very long) fanfic contains some disturbing things, so be ready. It involves a certain creepy character doing some very disgusting things, but I assure you, he will get his in the end, and near the end there will also be fluff. Avoid if that’s not your thing because this is a pretty dark fic with a hopeful ending, yes, but it is very dark. Some Trigger Warnings: Rape (both mentioned and part of the plot), gore, and mentions of Charlie’s child abuse and domestic violence (read Wraith Welcome to Christmasland comic to understand his backstory if you haven’t to get the full picture).

This is also a Charlie X Vic fic, but their relationship is extremely platonic and there is little to no romance at all.

Note that there are quite a few AU-ish elements in this story too.

It is set (generally speaking) roughly after episode 8 in the first season, although it is isn’t entirely canon-based.

Please, enjoy.

The blistering heat of a summer in July would’ve normally bothered Charles Talent Manx The Third, but with the windows down in his sleek and sable 1938 Rolls Royce Wraith antique, the breeze made him comfortable enough. Automobile air conditioning was not a luxury yet in the years this car was made, so having the windows rolled down was your only way of not baking in the humidity.

The ancient FM radio was cranked up. Instead of Christmas music, for once, Charlie was listening to a channel playing old music he enjoyed. Most of the music playing from this channel was from the 1970’s, but a few 1980’s songs came on, such as this one. Currently, Tears For Fears were singing joyfully about what a Mad World they were living in. The old vampire clacked his long nails against the steering wheel, humming along and gazing at the bright blue sky. The sun irritated his eyes, so he was forced to look away once it came out from behind some fluffy white clouds.

Currently, he was in Haverhill, Massachusetts. He was on his way to The House of Sleep, as he called Bing’s house. He called it that due to dead bodies of bad parents “sleeping” for all of eternity before being disposed of. Or, that is what Charlie thought...

He slowed his car down and halted outside the rickety house. The vocals to Tears For Fears died down just as Charlie released his keys and placed them in his coat pocket, leaving an awkward and almost unsettling silence. He was on his way to talk to Bing about a new child to save from a perverted uncle who was harming her, and she was in desperate need to be given a pure and happy life as a healthy and strong vampire such as himself and his other children.

He stepped outside the car and closed the door behind him. A collection of pinwheels blew in the wind, making a rapid noise that accompanied the trees rustling. He made sure the car was locked using his powers. The moment Charlie used his powers to lock his car, he froze.

His psychic senses were tingling at the moment of being activated. Something was wrong. He could taste something heinous on the tip of his tongue. His brain felt as though it was vibrating behind his eyes and within his skull. His heart rate picked up and his hands started to tremble. Yes, something was wrong, and he needed to figure out what exactly was the matter.

His instincts screamed at him, telling him to peak into one of the basement windows once his eyes happened to meet them. He slowly and carefully approached the house. His hands continued to quiver and his heart continued to thud as he walked over to the windows and got on his knees. He leaned into them to look carefully.

The dusty basement with colorful Christmas lights had some kind of noises coming from it. He squinted his sharp eyes and made sure to tilt his one ear to make sure his bat-like hearing could actually listen in. A young female voice in distress, crying out in pain.... a deep man’s voice chuckling and clearly being overjoyed... a rhythmic rocking sound was the beat behind their moans and whispers.

The vampire turned his head to the right, the direction the sounds were coming from. At first, he didn’t believe what he was seeing and thought his eyes were playing tricks on him. Perhaps his mind dirtied an innocent action due to the dust-coated windows making things hard to see and interpret, even to eyes as keen as his. But when it dawned on him that this was no optical illusion, and his initial thoughts were indeed correct, horror swelled in his heart. His stomach sank, and one of his hands went to his mouth in pure instinct. He gasped, his mouth left hanging agape. His eyes widened in pure terror. A scream begged to be let out of his vocal cords, but the stone in his throat died before ever leaving it. He jumped back, dumbfounded and overcome with panic and shock. His heartbeat now raced in his ears, and his body shook to its very core. His eyes never left what disgusting act lie just beneath his feet.

Bing Partridge, that gargantuan lump of a man, was on top of thin and average statured Victoria McQueen. He could recognize her soft, pale face, now with tears streaming down her cheeks. Her dark eyes looked to be even darker thanks to her dilated pupils. Drool was pooling out of her mouth, and pain filled sobs croaked out of her. There was no doubt she was drugged up. Was she drugged... with the gas? Something inside Charlie told him that fat bastard used his gingerbread gas, only to be used to knock bad parents out before killing them, to make her weaker and unable to fight back. Her white, long sleeved shirt and blue jeans were thrown to the side, and she was left in her black bra, unhooked and near her thin stomach, and matching panties around her legs. The hairy and large monster was still within his regular clothes, the only exception being his pants also pulled down, exposing his bare ass facing Charlie from where he was looking.

The vampire could tell this was no consensual act. Not only due to her being drugged up, and not only due to her looking and sounding to be in distress, but he could feel her fear in his bones and head. He could smell the dreadful sweat pouring from every crevice on her body, and the petrified tears streaming from her foggy eyes. Something stirred inside of him at this sight, something that had been dormant for years. He remembered, more vividly than he had in an extremely long time, when something very similar happened to him.

He was a young boy, barely 13 years old, when one of his mother’s clients was thrown out after abusing her in bed. He wasn’t fully satisfied with her actions for him, he had said, and he was bitter. His mother accused him of being a homosexual, perhaps, and a woman didn’t do the trick. Oh, if only she knew how right she was, and that young boys were this man’s type. The man had followed young Charlie as the boy went to play with his sled, as was typical when his mother got done yelling at him, slapping him, or ignoring him to engage in her sexual acts with great glee. The pain Charlie felt throughout his body and mind that day was unfathomable, and no matter how much he cried out for help, no one came to his rescue. Men like his attacker had a very special place in Hell, Charlie was sure of it. It wasn’t like his mother, Fanny Manx, cared if such a thing happened to her son. In fact, she would’ve probably said, had Charlie not stood up for himself in an incredible way he barely remembered, that he deserved to be used, and it gave him a purpose in this world, something he lacked. Looking back at his abusive whore of a mother, it was quite the surprise to Charlie that his mother never tricked him out to get extra money, when she very easily could’ve and would’ve if she thought of it.

He had managed to escape after all was done and the man was satisfied with using the young boy’s body. He slid down a hill, not noticing a tree, and once his head hit the tree, something unlocked inside of him. The world around him had changed slightly, and he gained a newfound strength to murder his attacker with one of the sharp blades of his now broken sled. He stormed back into town and did the same to his mother and one of the men who owned the inn and mortuary he lived in with his mother. He had little to no memory of this event, and it seemed to him a horrible nightmare almost entirely lost to time.

But the emotions and events of Charlie’s assault became fresh and open in his mind. The despair and suffering he felt during that moment of his life came flooding back to his heart, tugging at the faucets behind his eyes to release water. Wounds healed after an adolescence filled with nightmares, panic attacks, internal confusion and trauma with no guidance, and shame from so long ago were opened once more, with deep red blood seeping out of the near non-existant stitches. His shock and horror melted into equally crimson fury as that blood dripped from his wounds.

They had begun to heal once he was in his 20’s thanks to time and maturity, and meeting his first wife and starting a family with her during the prosperous Roaring 20’s certainly made him feel happy. Of course, once she began to abuse him during the Depression when they lost everything, this brought back similar feelings of inadequacy and worthlessness, an inner conflict that made him come crawling back to his abuser because a part of him still loved her. Becoming a vampire and starting a happy family of children similar to his case had certainly rehealed his wounds for a very long time. He hadn’t meant to become a vampire with his daughters thanks to his powers unlocking after his second mental snap that was even larger than the first, but he had to make due with what was given to him in life, and he had. There was a part of him that didn’t like that he was a vampire and that his babies were vampires, but he knew that there were benefits, and he simply had to focus on the positives, as they most likely outweighed the negatives, no matter what anyone else said.

But no amount of comforting childhood innocence and Christmas joy could stop his wounds from reopening while seeing this revolting act play out in front of him. The agony of this poor teenage girl full of purity... and that small part of innocence left inside of her (despite a scrappy home life) being ripped away...yes, that home life allowed her to discover her psychic talent of finding lost objects, and led her to him, but it had caused her lots of pain that he understood. She was gothy and rebellious, and very modern, but none of that mattered. Charlie had fell for her, he cared about her, even if she didn’t see it. It was more than just the fact she was a Creative like him, although that was part of it. He understood her and wanted to be with her. He wanted her to be with him and to give her happiness, to give his children happiness in having a mother, and to give him happiness in having a wife once again.

He would need her virginity to help her transform into a vampire like him one day. He would be the one to take it through sex, and then fuse it back inside of her by biting her neck and focusing his energy on her. But now, none of that could happen. Not only because her purity was destroyed, but because she would have scars just as he did all those years ago that would make it extremely hard for her to trust or want to be with any man, to even get through life. It was somewhat hard for him at first to have sex with Cassie for the first time, but it was easier than expected, most likely because she was a harmless woman, and his trauma was not as fresh. For Vic, any man would bring back these feelings until her trauma would heal, if she was lucky to have it heal enough or at all. And even then, what if she wanted children with a man? Would she be too old to have them by then? Her life, much like Charlie’s life, was destroyed by a sexual impulse from a disgusting waste of a man.

But Charlie’s hopeful romantic plans with Victoria being ruined were not the larger reason why he was so disgusted, although they were a part of why, and he acknowledged there was a strong possibility she wouldn’t have wanted to be with him no matter what in the end. It was the fact that someone else, and especially someone else that reminded him of himself, was going through the horrific event that he exactly went through. He hated it when adults would harm children and especially sexually. When it was an adult doing it to another adult, regardless of virginity being involved or not, it was still filthy. Some men, unfortunately, never understood the importance of defending the honor of a woman, and this insult to a pig violating and destroying this girl’s honor, chastity, and identity sickened Charlie. Even if he hadn’t loved her, his rage would still be just as fire hot.

The vampire got up off the ground, his claw-like nails almost digging into his palms as he held his hands in sweaty fists. His dark brown eyes could burn holes into anything. He shook even more violently now. He was going to kill Bing Partridge. He didn’t know how just yet, but he knew it was going to be long and torturous, and it would be quite the spectacle to anyone who enjoyed a good gore session.

Charlie walked back to his car to grab a weapon from the trunk, his hostile resent clearly evident from the way he stormed over to his antique. He unlocked his trunk and pulled it out: his autopsy mallet he stole from the morgue during an event where he had to play dead in his crippled, old form due to one of his previous assistants being a fool and allowing them to be caught by the police. He wasn’t believed by a soul and locked in the looney bin, but Charlie had managed to escape. This event seemed to be forgotten by all police involved, and the general consensus was a necrophiliac of sorts stole his corpse.

The silver metal of the mallet shimmered and reflected the sunlight in an almost beautiful way. He tapped it in his palms, his thick eyebrows furrowed and lips tightly together in a frown. His mind was swimming in fire and ways to rip apart the man who ripped apart this poor girl, both physically and mentally. He quietly closed his trunk and walked back over to the house. He knew he had to sneak down to the basement to avoid being caught and noticed, as surprise was his ally in this moment. To take the monsters of this world by surprise and revel in their pain while justice was served was a euphoria Charlie could only describe as heavenly.

He thought about how he was going to break in. He tried the door, just to be sure, and it was locked. Charlie thought back to when he first came to this house if there was any kind of simple lock he could pull or turn with his telekineses. He remembered there was a key from the inside still within the keyhole you had to turn, and a top lock you had to pull. He focused his mind on these two things. When the key turned and the top lock pulled back on the other side, Charlie tried the door again and it opened. As quiet as he could, the old vampire walked on the floor as though it were made of the most fragile glass. Using his telekinesis, he closed the door behind him with equal gentleness and locked it once again so that if the fat bastard did manage to get away, it would slow him down.

He tiptoed down the hallway, the sounds of Vic’s crying, Bing’s grunts and laughter, and the rocking even louder than behind the muffled glass. His grip tightened on his mallet, as his anger was getting stronger every moment. He winced at every small creak his black Oxford dress shoes made across the wooden floor, but the monster seemed far too invested in destroying the poor teenage girl’s life to notice little noises. The sweat beaded Charlie’s forehead, and he was sure he looked red due to the resentful, lava-like blood flooding his cheeks. Interestingly, the vampire’s body temperature, with the exception of his face usually, would drop significantly when he was very upset, angry, and so on. His hands had gone cold as they clutched the metal of the mallet. If he so wanted, he could’ve froze it using his abilities, but that was not on his mind at the moment.

He managed to reach the basement door. It was wide open, and the despicable act was right in front of his face. He couldn’t move for a few moments, paralyzed from shock and rage, but he managed to creep down the steps with little to no noise. As he got closer, he could finally hear Bing’s terrible words.

“Mr. Manx will be so proud when I’m done with you... yes, he will be... God, you’re so soft! You remind me of my mommy... so delicate and fresh... with such big tits too!”

Vic continued to choke out cries and screams, her head lopped back on the chair. Her messy black hair looked greasy and as though it was pulled on. Helpless and frightened, she couldn’t do anything as this bear-like man continued to ruin her. Her glassy eyes just so happened to roll over and see Charlie creeping down the steps. She noticed he had some kind of weapon in his hands, looking as though he was about to attack... her assailant? Oh, Dear Lord, please kill this... thing. Her vision was blurry, and her conscious was in and out, but it was quite obvious he was angry and upset. The monster was too oblivious and too lost in his own sexual ecstasy to notice where Vic’s eyes were or what was just behind him.

Charlie’s eyes met Vic’s for a few seconds, and they glimmered with pity and empathy. When his gaze shifted back to the evil monster, fire filled them once again. He bared his sharp teeth and growled lowly, sounding like an animal. A group of fangs came jutting out behind his teeth, turning his low growl into a vampiric hiss. His nails grew longer, and a stream of dragon smoke came out of his nose and mouth. His primal vampire instincts were kicking in, and this included his body temperature becoming ice cold to the point it burned, as well as the ability for him to see his breath. It was almost as if his lungs froze over from within, and steam-like air was the only thing that could come out. He looked more akin to a beast-like bat or wolf than a man. His pale skin looked like ice, and his dark eyes turned pitch black and shiny, with hints of blood red around the enlarged, onyx irises. He finally reached the bottom of the steps, edging closer to the large creature...

Bing grabbed Vic by her chin and forced her to look at him. He smiled and chuckled, saying, “Why can’t you look me in the eyes just like mommy did for me?”

Vic finally managed to let out a blood curdling scream as clear as the day outside. A sharp WHACK interrupted her scream. The gluttonous cretin fell to the ground, yelling out in pain. The sickening popping of the bone and brain matter within Bing’s skull was Charlie’s definition of satisfaction. Vic could now see the vampire clearly. Tall and thin, he already looked a bit frighting when he held his normal appearance, but in this form, he looked like a walking corpse, frozen in time, but also in some kind of rotting stage which made aspects of him look like a feral animal with rabies.

Bing continued to roll on the ground in pain, groaning, but was interrupted by Charlie hissing and grabbing him by his shirt collar. His sharp nails tore at the fabric as he slammed the autopsy mallet across his skull. Blood went flying in multiple different directions. The large creep yelled out as his skull and brain were being bashed in and apart by the mallet. Nauseating and cringe worthy pops and snaps filled the basement, elevating Charlie’s euphoria. Vic sat in the chair, trying to process everything happening at that moment and everything that had happened to her in the past hours. She couldn’t give a time or even an estimate to how long she had been down there. All she had known was the amount of fear and pain she felt.

The mallet was soaked in blood by the time Charlie grew tired of hitting this monster with it. Bing’s face was caked in crimson. Parts of his skull and brain were mushy and exposed. And yet... by some chance, he was alive. While all of his cognitive function was most likely destroyed, he certainly could still react to pain. Good, makes him easier prey...

Charlie, in his adrenaline and satisfaction, gave a deep chuckle.

“Now you’re going to know what it’s like to be helpless and torn apart, with the only knowledge going through your mind being your pain.”

An idea came to Charlie when he saw the curved edge of his mallet. He forced the sharp end through Bing’s right eye and popped it out like a cork. He continued to cry out as Charlie did the same to his other eye. The vampire grabbed the eyeballs and chewed on them like they were gumballs.

Despite now being blind, and with skull and brain outside of his head, Bing managed to attempt to push Charlie off of his large stomach. The vampire tossed aside his ruby red mallet, growled, and slammed him down with his hands wrapped around his neck, his nails digging into his flesh, causing streaks of blood to come dripping out of his throat.

“Still have some fight?! How in the hell are you still alive?! Why can’t you just die?!” His angry roars suddenly molded into dark snickers. “No matter; that just means for fun for me. Not to mention, you’ll know what it’s like to fight back and perish for having the strength and audacity to dare defy the one hurting you.”

He let out a hiss sounding like a snake’s before grabbing Bing’s hands. With his teeth, he managed to tear out all five fingers on his right hand, followed by his left hand. Gobbling them down with incredible greed, the sick imbecile continued to scream out. While his mouth was wide open, Charlie reached into Bing’s mouth and tore out his tongue using his sharp nails. He shoved his own tongue back into his mouth for him to swallow and choke on.

While the dumpy half-wit gagged down his own tounge, Charlie decided the best should’ve been saved for last. He stood up and grabbed his mallet again, the blood dripping down it like red wine. He threw it down with great force onto Bing’s penis multiple times, making the rotund monster yell and squirm in agony. Charlie flipped the mallet around and, using the sharp curved end, peeled the flesh off of his penis like a banana. Piss and blood came flooding out of it, but the vampire could care less. After the penis was peeled entirely, Charlie ripped it off using the curved end of the mallet, and did the same to his balls. He grabbed the elephantine man’s penis and shoved it up his nose, which had blood pouring out of it. His balls went into his ears, which also had blood pouring out of them.

After his castration, the Falstaffian rapist sharing the same name as a search engine was barely alive. His breathing was labored and rattling in his chest.

“Still alive, are we, Mr. Partridge?” Charlie asked with a tone dripping with venom, yet smothered with innocence. “Well, I’m here to tell you that your services are no longer required. You have let me down and failed me. Perhaps you’ll have a better job with Satan in Hell, when you awake in his arms to be his personal torture toy. Maybe your mommy will be there to join in on the fun, just as you had your fun with her! There is just one unfortunate thing, I’m afraid...”

He leaned into his face. “The fires of Hell are not hot enough for the lowest common denominators of shit like you.”

The vampire brought his fangs back out and bit into Bing’s jugular. Frost bite broke the skin around his neck and rotted it. Blood squirted into Charlie’s mouth as he guzzled it down like fruit punch. He consumed the last of Bing’s energy to gain some lost strength from the amount he had to put towards torturing him. When he had his fill of energy and blood, he clawed the literal motherfucker’s hairy face with his nails and tore away at the flesh with his teeth to have a snack.

All the while, Vic was staring in horror at Charlie’s transformation from the polite gentleman she first met at the bus station, offering for her to become his children’s mother... to a primal, animalistic vampire, a true Nosferatu. She didn’t know how to react in the first few moments of watching, but near the end, she was relieved that her rapist was finally dead. She didn’t want to admit it, but part of her was enjoying Charlie torturing him and making a grisly spectacle of him. She was humiliated and degraded by him, and now he was being humiliated and degraded by being a vampire’s play thing and meal. Her mind’s focus would dip back and forth between what was going on around her and her own pain. She pressed her knees to her body and held herself to feel safer.

When Charlie was done, he lifted himself off of the creature’s corpse. Blood dribbled down his chin. It was also splattered on his face and clothes. His hands and nails were soaked, and his teeth and fangs matched. He grabbed his handkerchief and wiped his face and hands off. When they were clean, he looked at the handkerchief and pressed it to one of his fangs. He drained the blood from it and sighed when it was all clean. He placed it back in his front vest pocket and drained any blood splatter on his clothes with his fangs. He lastly licked his teeth and fangs with his tongue, the faint yellow color returning to them. He retracted his fangs and his nails (though, his nails could only retract until a certain point), turning to Vic. She looked up at him with large eyes and a pale face. His gaze softened as he approached her.

“Victoria,” he hushed. “What happened? How did he find you? Why did he do this to you?”

She was silent for a few moments before saying, in a very shaky voice, “He... he must’ve followed me home, found out where I live. He must’ve broke into my house because I noticed my box of condoms and weed was sitting on my bed when I had them in my closet. My mom and I went to a party, and she came home before I did, so she found them. He knew I had them, he told me when I woke up down here, so it had to have been him to place them there and break into my house. My mom got mad at me, but I tried to tell her I was being safe and careful. We got into a fight, and I went off to where my bridge was. I thought I could just get away for a bit and cool off in the woods, but he must’ve followed me then too. He knocked me out and kidnapped me. I woke up here and...” Her voice broke, and tears flooded her eyes.

Charlie nodded, knowing what she meant to say next. Normally, it would’ve bothered him that a younger person, especially a young girl, would be interested in drugs, but he understood weed was a weaker drug, and as long as she was careful and not careless, he supposed he could make do with such behavior. Had this disgusting event not happened, but he still knew she had such belongings somehow, he would’ve been concerned that she had condoms, as that meant she might’ve been interested in losing her virginity to someone else without giving him a chance and therefore couldn’t be with him forever, but he would’ve been fine with it, at the very least, if she had given him a chance and still wasn’t interested in him (as long as she didn’t want to destroy everything he had built), and especially because it meant she truly cared about her life and safety to the point she didn’t want to get knocked up while so young or get a disease. None of that mattered now, of course. In fact, all he cared about was her safety and helping her.

Charlie rested a hand on her shoulder. “When did this happen?”

“I... I can’t remember,” she choked out. “I want to say last night, but I lost track of time.”

He hushed her softly and leaned down to caress her cheek. “Did he ever give a reason why he did this to you?”

“He said it was to make you happy... if that’s true, why would you save me?”

While most of the angry flames in Charlie’s heart had died down after blazing so intensely, this comment made them spark back to a low flicker.

“I would’ve never wanted this. Victoria, I love you. I know you don’t love me, but that doesn’t matter. Even if I hated you, I would never wish or want this upon you. I had an experience very similar to this when I was a young boy, barely a teenager. Why would I want such pain to happen to you or anyone else? Even if I never had that experience, I still wouldn’t want it to happen to you or anyone else.”

“He told me he did it to Hailey’s mom, Sharon,” she whimpered.

Charlie’s eyebrow went up. “Did... this to her?”

Vic nodded. “Is that what you wanted him to do?”

Charlie shook his head firmly. “No! I never asked him to do that. His job was very clear and strict: kill the parents and dispose of them. I never asked him to... for God’s sakes, why would he...” He stopped and rubbed his hand on his temple. “I would never trust a man like that around my children. I would never ask a man to do that... I trusted him, and he failed me. I’m...” He stopped and covered his eyes in shame. “This is all my fault. I’m the reason he did this to you. My God, Victoria, I’m so sorry... I never should’ve hired him. Using my abilities, I knew what he did to his mother, but I thought I could use him for my benefit and the children’s benefits based on his ability to seemingly get away with murdering his parents. I thought he wouldn’t do what he did to his mother again because I was very clear in my directions and I thought he wouldn’t ever want to go against my wishes, but as it turns out...” He paused again, choking on his regret. “I was going to have my babies eat him if he ever made it to Christmasland, anyways. I couldn’t trust him around my children, not after what he did to his own mother! But the fact he did this to you and Sharon, despite me telling him to just kill the parents and dispose of them, and despite me never telling him to lay a finger on you, I... good God, please understand me, Victoria. I don’t expect you to forgive me at all-“

“Charlie,” she interrupted. “This isn’t your fault. Please don’t feel guilty.”

He looked at her, almost confused. He couldn’t believe she was saying these things to him. He expected her to be furious with him, but instead she was... understanding his point of view.

“You were only doing what you think is right, and in some ways, what you’re doing is right. I can see that now more than ever. You didn’t force him to do any of this, I understand that now too. You couldn’t control him doing any of this.”

“If I hadn’t come into your lives, he wouldn’t have-“

Her voice continued to tremble and tears ran down her cheeks. “Charlie, I trusted him before we met you, but I’ll be honest: now that I’ve seen what a monster he was, he was a ticking time bomb. He could’ve turned on me even if you hadn’t shown up in our lives. I could’ve been ‘too nice’ to him, and he could’ve interpreted that as a signal and done things to me. Maybe... it was just some fucked up thing meant to be...” A few sobs squeaked out of her, but she managed to regain some strength to finish what she needed to say. “All I can say is... do not blame yourself, and thank you for saving me. I’m sorry I didn’t understand you before.”

“You don’t feel sorry for anything,” the vampire told her, rubbing her back. “I don’t blame people for being afraid of what I do. In addition, vampires are misunderstood beings. We look frightening, aspects of us are frightening, and we can’t help it. People only look at our covers and don’t read the words in between. It’s an easy thing to do.” He stopped and looked down at his feet. “I still feel guilty and believe it to be my fault this happened to you, and I can’t even express how sorry I am it did...” He changed the topic. “...And I’m glad we’ve made up in a way, but now we need to get going. We need to get you out of here and to a hospital.”

He gingerly lifted Vic up off the chair. Blood dripped down her legs and she began to cry again. Charlie gently hushed her and held her close to him.

“Do you need my help to put back on your bra and panties?”

She shook her head and pulled everything back on, trying to fight her tears. She grabbed her other articles of clothing and slipped them back on as well. Her biker jacket was tossed near the staircase. She grabbed it, but pain from within her body caused her to cry out and hesitate. He came to her aid and grabbed her jacket for her. She thanked him and pulled it close around her body.

“Do you have everything?” He asked her.

Vic checked her pockets and nodded.

“Good.” The vampire grabbed his mallet, lapped at the blood on it like a popsicle, flipped it, and stuck the sharp, curved end through Bing’s forehead.

“I’m taking this to Christmasland. I promised my children a delicious dinner full of fat, and I’m not letting them down. Plus, without a body, it will make things harder for police to trace things back to me or you. There’s no need for a case, as justice has been served. We will tell the hospital and any police that it was a large man, neither of us could get any physical details, I found you in the woods near your bridge because I heard screaming while I was driving, and I saved you because I scared him and he ran away. Is that okay?”

Vic nodded again. “What if my school or Bing’s other job notices he’s missing?”

Charlie pointed towards the gas, huddled in a corner of the basement.

“We’ll burn this place down, and make it seem as though he lost his house and he’s now gone homeless. Either that, or his remains were destroyed entirely. Nobody will know.”

“Okay, that’s perfect.” She grunted at another pain near her stomach. “These feel like period cramps, but so much worse...”

“I know, dear, I know...” Charlie held her close to his body with one arm and dragged Bing’s corpse with his other as they walked back upstairs. “You’re safe now. You’re going to sit in my front seat, we’re going to take you to a hospital, they’ll treat your injuries, give you Plan B, give you some anti-viral drugs to prevent HIV, any antibiotics as well, you can call your parents, and you’ll return home with them. You’re going to be alright. I know it doesn’t seem like it, believe me, I know very well. But I will be by your side and I will help you as much as I can.”

She clung to him, the two of them going down the narrow hallway. Using his telekinesis, Charlie unlocked the door and threw it open. They walked all the way back to the car. The passenger door creaked open. Charlie led Vic to it. She crawled into the car and sat down on the cushiony leather seat.

“Wait here,” he told her. “I’ll be right back.”

He closed the door and dragged Bing’s bludgeoned carcass to his trunk. He opened it up, raised the body (with the extra help of the mallet), and half threw it into the back of his car. After pulling the end of the mallet out of his head and setting it to the side of his body, he closed the trunk with great force. He walked over to the driver’s side of the car and opened his door. Vic was a bit startled at this, as she had been lost in time for a moment.

“Don’t fret, darling,” he hushed. “I’m just grabbing my lighter.”

He popped open the compartment near her knees and rustled through his candy canes, pine tree air fresheners, and map of The United Inscapes of America until he found his red lighter.

“I’ve got a few more at home, I can easily replace it.” He turned his keys and the Wraith purred to life. He smiled at Vic warmly and said, “I’m starting the car for an easy and safe getaway. There is going to be a big explosion, and I want you to enjoy that beast’s den going out with a big bang.”

He closed the door behind him and trotted back to the house. He went back down to the basement, organizing the sevoflurane canisters in a particular order he felt fit. He turned them all on. He went into Bing’s garage and gathered up a bunch of gas cans. He emptied all of the oil out all throughout the house. This not only ensured the house would burn, but it would throw authorities off and they would struggle to figure out which was the exact cause for the fire, if they could even find one or the other. Making things as confusing as possible for the police was key, because the more confusing, the colder the case.

When Charlie was done with the oil, he walked downstairs for the last time. He opened his lighter, flicked it on, and threw it at the containers. The second it hit them, he took off running out of the house. Heat picked up behind him as he jumped out of the doorway and fell onto the ground. The Wraith in front of him lurched backwards on its own from his control. It screeched to a halt when it was far back enough.

The initial explosion of gingerbread smoke in the basement caused the whole bottom half of the house to blow to smithereens. The fire spread from the basement to the rest of the house thanks to the oil and the fact the house was wooden in a matter of seconds. Fireballs exploded the windows just as Charlie threw himself down, causing glass to rain all over him. Heat as warm as the sun made his face drip with sweat instantly. The light was blindingly bright, strong enough to make one want to cover their eyes.

That is what Vic did the moment the house burst into flames. She gasped at the intensity and hid her eyes from the light comparable to that of a nuclear blast. When things seemed to die down, she looked up like a timid child from their blankets.

Charlie stood up and brushed himself off. He was completely unscathed, just had some dirt and dust on his clothing. He brushed his hands off as he approached his car. The door opened for him and he slid into the driver’s seat. Before he pulled the door shut again, he sniffed, and Vic got a whiff of what he was smelling.

“Gingerbread, oil, and burning wood,” he observed outloud. He closed his door and turned to Vic. “Certainly an interesting scent. Perhaps they should make a candle out of it. They can call it, ‘Dead Rapist’s Burning House.’ They could make a cause out of it: buy a candle, and you’ll be putting money towards torching a just-murdered rapist’s house down. Think of all the money that company would make, and think of all the sinister creatures of this world they’d be dealing with. Quite frankly, they should really make that a business. I know I’d donate.”

“I’d donate too,” she said softly. “Kill them all and burn all their houses to the ground.”

Charlie backed up his car, and as they were about to leave the burning house, Vic said one thing:

“It doesn’t matter that we didn’t leave his body in the house, because he’s already experiencing the heat and scent of his own poisonous gingerbread in Hell as we speak.”

Charlie nodded. “Yes he is, Victoria. Yes he is.”

Father Christmas took off on his sleek and black horse, the Brat by his side. His car served as a hearse as the dead monster in the back rolled around limply at every bump in the road.

They arrived at the local hospital. Vic was silent for the rest of the ride. She was too lost in her muddy thoughts, and Charlie didn’t force her into conversation. He didn’t expect her to speak, he understood that very well. Plus, there wasn’t much else to say at the time. They had made up loosely (for the time being), misunderstandings were clarified, their plans for the police were clear, and they had dealt with the creature behind it all.

Vic’s mind wandered throughout her torment in various directions. Charlie’s mind wandered throughout his guilt. A part of his mind told him that he was not at fault. He was clear in his instruction to Bing, it was that creature’s doing and fault. But a part of him felt it was his fault. Had he not entered either of their lives...

No, stop, his brain said. It could’ve happened anyways. You didn’t know the full story behind his end of his relationship with Vic. Maybe he was to do things to her regardless. If you had known him to desire to do this to her or anyone else earlier, you would’ve killed him then and there, but you didn’t because you didn’t know. But if you approached things differently... no, again, you would’ve had to know. You knew what he did to his mother, but you also knew he hated to disappoint and loved to please a fatherly figure. He was perfect for following orders. He went completely against them by hurting Vic and Sharon the way he did, that’s his doing, not yours.

But it doesn’t matter, it’s still my fault, isn’t it? It wasn’t intentional, but it’s still my fault.

Charlie pushed his mental conflict to the back of his mind for a moment as he pulled into a spot in the parking garage. He helped Vic into the hospital. They talked to a few nurses, who took her in. They gave her Plan B to prevent a pregnancy, collected evidence through a rape kit, and catered to her injuries. Police entered her room a few minutes later. She told them everything that Charlie and her agreed to say, and the vampire corroborated the story. They wrote everything down and said they’d do the best they could to catch the assailant. Once everyone left the room, Charlie and Vic looked at each other, their eyes knowing that the assailant was already dealt with.

He looked down, feeling disappointed in himself and painfully sorry for Vic. “Sorry doesn’t change anything,” said he, “but I want you to know from the bottom of my heart that I am. I will never forgive myself for this.” He covered his face. “What kind of man am I?”

“Charlie, please don’t,” She croaked. “I told you it was him, not you. If what you’re saying is true and you never told him to do these things...”

“Yes, I never told him to do these things.”

She sighed through her nose, looking down at her wringing hands. “You only do what you think is right, and in some ways, what you do is right. He went above and beyond all of what is questionably good and did a lot worse. He disobeyed you. He’s the monster, not you. You’re not perfect, and your actions aren’t entirely saintly, but I think I understand you more. Watching you murder him like that... I understand you have a moral code. He didn’t. I also now know you don’t harm the children, based on your protectiveness of them. Yes, they’re all vampires like you, but they’re safe from harm and can hurt those who would want to harm them, people like him. Plus, you’re preventing them from having dark futures, ones that you and I had coming for us when we were kids. Again, you’re not perfect, but you’re certainly not that sack of shit in your trunk. You’re better than him. This isn’t your fault. Don’t live in guilt for something you never did.”

“I’m psychic, I should’ve known-“

“Psychics aren’t perfect or know to use their powers to read everything in the future. That’s exhausting and unrealistic.”

“I had the power in my hands-“

“People have the power to do a lot of things. Does that mean things go perfect and they’re fully able to do or stop something or see something? Of course not. Charlie, please stop putting the blame on yourself.”

Their wounded eyes met each other.

“You really think all of this?”

“Of course. Why else am I saying it?”

He rested a hand on her shoulder. “Thank you, Victoria. I’m just... relieved he’s dead and dealt with.”

“I am too, and I have you to thank for that. Nothing can change what happened to me, but... who could know or control a rapist’s actions...” She wiped tears from her eyes and pointed towards her jacket set on the chair next to Charlie. “Could you give me my phone so I can call my parents? I told the cops I’d let them know what’s happening so that they wouldn’t have to, and I’m sure they don’t want to wait around any longer.”

Charlie nodded and gave her the phone. She opened it up and saw a bunch of texts from both parents. She called her mother first and foremost.

On the first ring, her mother picked up. She was clearly worried sick and her father’s voice was heard too, just as worried. Vic explained to them both what happened to her in a shaky voice. She told them the hospital she was at, and they agreed to come to her. The entire time, Charlie felt a sick pain in his heart.

Within twenty minutes, her parents came through the door. They hugged her and held her tightly as she wept in their arms. After a few minutes of talking to her, her father turned to Charlie.

“This must be the man that saved you,” he said. He hugged Charlie tightly, which made him awkwardly hug him back.

“Thank you for saving my little Brat,” he whispered. “You’re a life saver.”

Shame and guilt still swelling his heart, Charlie whispered back, “There is no need to thank me, sir.”

“No need?” Her mother asked. “You saved our Vicki from that man. I hope to God justice is served and he gets what he deserves.”

“I’m sure he will, mom,” Vic hushed. “Even if they don’t find him, he’s gonna get what he deserves. Who knows, he might be getting it already as we speak.”

“I’d like to think that...” She walked over to Charlie and hugged him. “Thank you so much, Mr...”

“Charles, madam, you may call me Charles,” Charlie told her, hugging her back. It was still awkward, and guilt still clawed at his heart, but he continued, out of courtesy and comfort. They ended their hug and he gave a glance at Vic, who looked up at him with equal sadness in her eyes.

“Alas, I must be going. I shall leave you all amongst yourselves to heal during this time. If you need me for whatever reason there may be, here is my number. I will be more than willing to help in anyway I can.”

He pulled out his wallet from one of the inside pockets of his coat, took out a small piece of paper from it, and wrote down a set of numbers. When he was done, he gave it to Vic, who nodded.

“Thank you again,” her father said. “We can’t thank you enough.”

“You are most certainly welcome,” Charlie replied, shaking hands with him. He shook hands with her mother and replied similarly upon her thanking him. He gave one last eye-to-eye exchange with Vic. They both had relief in their eyes, but there was also a deep, empathetic sadness.

“Farewell, Victoria. If you need me, please do not hesitate to call me. I will help you to the best of my ability.”

“Goodbye, Charlie. I will. Thank you for everything.”

He half smiled and nodded at her. “No need to thank me, my dear.”

He closed the door behind him, remorse still egging at him. He left the hospital and stepped inside his car, off to go back to Colorado and to Christmasland to provide his children with dinner.

He drove with his emotions still drowning his mind and heart. His car, almost seeming to know his feelings, turned on the radio by itself to play music fitting his mood. The Animals serenaded about the House Of The Rising Sun as he left Haverhill, all the shame and pity clinging to him.

When he reached Christmasland and provided warmth and smiles to his children, joy came back to him for a while as he watched them enjoy their fat meal. But that night, after tucking the children to bed and retiring for the night, the shame and pity came back to him through his sleepy thoughts.

Before slipping into a very bad and vivid dream about the day’s events, a few tears shed from his eyes, and he mumbled, “Victoria... I’m so sorry...”

Months had passed. Within that time, Charlie had found a better assistant, one that had no intent on doing disturbing things to the parents, only ending them intelligently and saving the children. He was a former hitman, and he quickly became friends with Charlie. The girl being harmed by her uncle was the first to be saved, and the hitman proved his worth from the beginning. The girl was brought to Christmasland completely safe and fine, now a strong and forever young vampire, and the uncle was dealt with in a proper manner. The hitman, named Crosby, was definitely a keeper, and he would be on his way to spending an eternity in Christmasland, only leaving to save more children. The kids would know he was a good man based on their father knowing he was a good man, so he was to not end up like the previous assistant.

Vic had not contacted Charlie at all, and he had not contacted her. He thought about her often, and hoped she was recovering and healing. He decided to visit her one day. He bid his children good bye and told them he’d be back later that evening. He arrived in Haverhill a few hours later and searched the local neighborhoods, trying to sense Vic. When he sensed her at one house in particular, he knew it was her mother’s house. She was not home at the time, and Vic was by herself in her room.

The vampire parked in her small drive way, stepped out of his car, and knocked on her door. She answered, a bit surprised to see him.

“Hello, Victoria. I do hate to be rude and arrive unannounced, but I had to check on you. It’s been so long, and I admit, I’ve been concerned about you.”

“Oh, hey... yeah, I’ve been doing better. I’m still... rough, as you can imagine, but at least things are starting to look a bit better.”

“That’s splendid,” he said warmly.

“You, uh... wanna come in?”

“Certainly.”

He came inside and she led him to her bedroom. Various gothy, horror memorabilia was scattered throughout it. A pack of Little Debby cookies sat on her bed, next to her sketchbook opened up to a detailed drawing of the woods. She was in the middle of playing a game on her Xbox, as her Mortal Kombat fight was paused. Through the menu options, you could see Queen Sindel letting out a banshee scream, knocking over Emperor Shao Kahn. Her purple lava lamp and the sunlight from the windows were the only source of light for her, so she turned on her ceiling light.

“Sorry for it being so dark. My lava lamp is sort of... my nightlight. I’ve been having nightmares ever since... the incident. I keep the curtains open because it helps me to sleep when I look up at the moon and the stars. Although, I have to close it when I have one reoccurring nightmare. It’s where... he, comes back and breaks through my window to hurt me...” She paused to regain some strength. She turned to Charlie, who sat next to her on her bed. “Is that normal?”

“Of course,” he hushed. “Nightmares are a completely normal reaction to such a horrible event. I had lots of reoccurring nightmares throughout my teenage years after my incident. They stopped once I met my first wife, but I’d rather not talk about her. Let’s just say we had a great bond in the beginning, but she... changed into a venomous snake later on and made things worse for me and my daughters. Enough of me, please, let’s talk about you. I’d like to help you in anyway I can. I understand every ounce of your pain, and I am here for you.”

She looked up at him. “Thank you, Charlie. I really mean it. Have you been feeling any guilt, even after we talked about how you shouldn’t?”

“I admit it, I have. At least once every day.”

She shook her head. “Please don’t. That’s all I can tell you. I’ve told you why you shouldn’t, it’s just up to you now to not feel guilt.”

He nodded. “I brought you some gifts, one of which I bought on my way here.”

He fished through his one jacket pocket and pulled out a book. The book looked dusty, but well kept. It was a copy of “Little Women.”

“Forgive me if it isn’t your type of literature, as I am not familiar with all of your interests. I had this book among my vast collection and figured it would be a nice gift for a woman. Plus, one of the few things I know about you is that you like art, and it comes with very pretty illustrations here and there.”

Vic smiled when she flipped through it. “Charlie, this is very sweet of you. I’ll be sure to read it. I’ve already blown through all my comics, and I’ve never read this before, so this would be nice. Maggie gave me a few books to help me too, she’s been very supportive and helpful. She actually stopped by a few days ago to talk... I’m very glad I have her as a friend.”

Charlie nodded. He was weary of Margaret and her suspicions towards him, but at this point, he decided her safe, especially if she wasn’t after him now (well, at least to his knowledge). “I’m glad you two have each other. Friends are always good to have when times are tough. And I’m glad you like the book. There is another thing I have...”

He pulled out from the same jacket pocket a necklace. The necklace had a shimmering green Emerald in the middle of a silver lilly. Vic took it and analyzed it with sparkling eyes.

“Emerald is my birth stone,” she said. “And my birth flower is Lilly of the Valley... where did you get this?”

“It was one of my wife’s necklaces. She wasn’t even a May baby, she just liked it. You are far more deserving of it then she ever was. Do take good care of it, especially because it comes from... 19...24? 1925? I don’t remember. Either way, it comes from the 20’s, so it holds great value.”

“Charlie, that’s... beyond nice. Thank you.”

“You have one more. This is the one I got on my way here at a thrift store I saw.” He pulled out her final gift: a small My Little Pony figurine. The pony was pink with violet red, orange, and yellow in her mane, and greenish-blue and violet blue in her tail. Her eyes were aqua, and her cutie mark had an artist’s paint brush with a few squiggle lines. A tag around her neck read, “Toola Roola: My Little Pony 3rd Generation.” Vic took the toy horse and analyzed her.

“I thought of you when I saw her because of the connection to art she has. I don’t know how much you like them, if you even like them at all, but I thought she’d be a nice gift.”

Vic smiled even wider. “I’m not a fan of My Little Pony, but I certainly do like her. It’s perfectly fine, Charlie, you thought of me and got me something, and that means a lot to me.” She set the pony aside and gave Charlie a hug, which he happily gave back to her.

“Thank you so much for all you’ve done for me.”

He smiled even wider and said, “Of course. I know exactly what you’re going through. I know how hard it is. But you don’t have to fight this battle alone, even if I feel I’m the cause it had to begin-“

“No, Charlie, you’re not.” She patted his back. “Enough with that.” She separated from him, and that’s when he noticed a picture on her nightstand.

“Who is that boy, might I ask?”

“Oh, that’s Craig. He’s my boyfriend, and we’ve known each other since we were kids. He’s been helping me a lot too when he can. He’s a sweetheart.”

Had these horrible events not taken place, jealousy would’ve filled Charlie’s heart, and he knew he would’ve had to really show off to get Vic’s attention so that she could perhaps choose him over a mere boy. But the events had taken place, and Charlie was just happy that Vic had someone like a boyfriend to help her, especially when her trauma could’ve been to the point she wouldn’t have wanted a boyfriend at all. Part of him wanted to be her boyfriend... but he knew that he couldn’t be with her because he couldn’t be with her forever, just like his heart wanted. So, it was something to forget about and just hope for the best for the both of them.

“I wish the best for the both of you,” he smiled and said.

“Thanks.”

They were silent for a few moments before an idea occurred to the vampire.

“You know, I could help make your nightmares go away, and I can help ease your mind. I’m capable of hypnosis, and if you’re willing, I could hypnotize you to help you.”

“You’d do that for me?”

“Certainly.”

“Well, all right then. Do I look you in the eyes?”

“Yes. Just look me in the eyes and relax.”

Vic did just that as she laid back on her bed. Charlie’s eyes became rainbow filled, and he lulled her to sleep while singing Pure Imagination. Her own eyes mimicked his, and she fell into a deep and restful sleep, peaceful dreams coming to her at long last. Charlie gave her a few suggestions to help ease her pain, and when she was done agreeing to them in her trance-like state, he beamed proudly.

He decided he wanted to sleep too, so he laid back next to Vic. They didn’t snuggle or touch intimately, as they were simply lying next to each other as two tired friends. He closed his own eyes and fell into her dream with her, a dream about sugarplums dancing in their heads.

The Wraith and The Brat became unlikely good friends. They both helped each other through their pain, and ever since that cruel day, one good thing amongst all the horror came out of it: Father Christmas became her guardian vampire, her savior, and her Nosferatu, and that was how it was always going to be.

[weirdesplinder]

In libreria

Post dedicato alle uscite interessanti, a mio giudizio, che potete trovare in libreria. 

Partiamo con un romanzo storico ambientato in Australia. Non l’ho ancora letto, ma mi attira parecchio la trama perciò ho voluto sgnalarlo anche a voi:

La moglie del cacciatore di perle

di Dhand Roxane

Trama: Una terra lontana. Un marito pericoloso. Un amore proibito.

È il 1912 quando la diciannovenne Maisie Porter guarda l'Inghilterra svanire in lontananza dal parapetto dell'Oceanic. Si appresta a un lungo viaggio verso Buccaneer Bay, nello sperduto nord-ovest dell'Australia, e verso l'incerto destino che l'attende: ovvero il matrimonio con il lontano cugino Maitland Sinclair, che lei non ha mai visto e che gestisce la ricerca delle perle in quel tratto di costa. Quando Maisie arriva, si ritrova in una sonnolenta cittadina nel mezzo del nulla, dove l'ipocrisia vittoriana che credeva di essersi lasciata alle spalle è più soffocante che mai. Delusa dal comportamento odioso del marito, misogino e arrogante, si ritroverà con l'unico conforto dell'affascinante pescatore William Cooper, che lavora per Sinclair: è lui il vero «cacciatore di perle», nonostante Sinclair si spacci per tale. È lui che si tuffa in mare per compiere ogni volta l'incredibile impresa di arrivare nelle acque profonde col solo aiuto dei polmoni, e portare alla luce le meraviglie che l'oceano nasconde. Ma l'amore che sboccia fortissimo tra Maisie e William troverà molti ostacoli... soprattutto quando scopriranno insieme il segreto terribile che Sinclair nasconde nel proprio passato.

Poi vi segnalo anche un uscita paranormal, si tratta di un romanzo breve di Deborah Harkness ambientato nello stesso universo della sua acclamata Trilogia delle Anime, che approfondisdce un personagio secondario della stessa serie. Ve lo consiglio solo se avete amato quella serie alla follia, poichè in realtà il libro è piuttosto deludente non aggiunge molto e non approfondisce molto, al punto che quasi mi son chiesta cosa lo ha scritto a fare se poi non mostra secondo me punti cruciali della vita di quel personaggio... mah. Comunque meritava una menzione. Così come la serie televisiva inglese dedicata alla Trilogia della anime che ho visto in lingua originale e che mi ha deluso pure lei parecchio. Molto lenta e anche lei si sofferma su cose secondo me inutili. Boh.

Il figlio del tempo

Autore: Deborah Harkness

Trama: Si può, per amore, rinnegare la propria natura? Restare giovani per sempre, sfuggire alla tirannia del tempo: essere un vampiro vuol dire anche questo, e quando Matthew de Clermont fa la sua bizzarra e inquietante proposta al giovane Marcus - diventare, come lui, un non-morto - sta facendo molto più che salvargli la vita sul campo di battaglia. Gli sta offrendo l'opportunità di sconfiggere il tempo. È la fine del Settecento, e Matthew incontra il giovane chirurgo Marcus in piena Rivoluzione americana. Da quell'incontro provvidenziale comincia il suo viaggio nella storia e nell'eternità, sotto lo sguardo amorevole di Matthew e Diana, sua moglie e strega immortale, che lo considerano un figlio: è stato Matthew, in fondo, ad averlo fatto "rinascere". Ma diventare un vampiro vuol dire lasciarsi indietro una parte di sé, e liberarsi dalla mortalità significa rinunciare a ciò che, in fondo, ci rende umani. Due secoli dopo, a Parigi, sarà questo il tormento di Phoebe: umana, innamorata perdutamente di Marcus, dovrà decidere se accettare la meravigliosa e dolorosa transizione, e diventare vampira per seguire il suo cuore.

Altro libro paranormal che nomino e che ho appena scoperto, ma che è un paranormal horror è Nos4a2 che ho conosciuto grazie alla serie tv che ha ispirato e che va in onda su Amazon Prime video.

NOS4A2 Ritorno a Christmasland

Autore: Joe Hill

Trama: Victoria McQueen ha la stupefacente capacità di trovare le cose: un braccialetto smarrito, una foto persa, risposte a interrogativi che non hanno soluzione. Quando passa con la sua bicicletta sul vecchio e traballante ponte coperto nei boschi dietro casa sua, emerge sempre nel posto in cui deve andare. Vie tiene segreta questa sua insolita abilità, perché sa che nessuno le crederebbe. Anche Charles Talent Manx ha una dote tutta sua. Gli piace portare in giro i bambini sulla sua Rolls-Royce del 1938 con la targa personalizzata NOS4A2. A bordo della macchina, lui e i suoi innocenti passeggeri possono uscire dalla realtà e percorrere strade segrete che portano a uno straordinario parco dei divertimenti che lui chiama Christmasland. Chilometro dopo chilometro, il viaggio sull'autostrada dell'immaginazione distorta di Charlie trasforma i suoi preziosi passeggeri, rendendoli terrificanti e inarrestabili quanto il loro "benefattore". Poi viene il giorno in cui Vic esce per cercare guai... e inevitabilmente la sua strada incrocia quella di Charlie. Questo è stato molto tempo fa. Ora l'unica ragazzina che sia riuscita a sfuggire al male implacabile di Charlie è diventata una donna che cerca, disperata, di dimenticare. Ma Charlie Manx non ha mai smesso di pensare all'eccezionale Victoria McQueen e non si fermerà finché non avrà avuto la sua vendetta. Vuole dare la caccia a qualcosa di molto speciale, qualcosa che Vic non potrà mai sostituire. 

Io amo un genere di paranormal diverso più personale, con magia, o vampiri o licantropi...più vicino al fantasy. Qui invece siamo più vicini alle atmosfere di Stephen King. Perciò se amate quel genere direi che fa per voi.     

Per concludere non potevo non consigliarvi anche il mio nuovo romanzo come lettura estiva. Su tratta di un romanzo rosa contemporaneo con protagonisti due cantanti che partecipano a X Factor:

Piccola vipera

Autore: Mariachiara Cabrini       

Trama: Fin da piccola Roxanne ha avuto un unico sogno: diventare una cantante famosa. Ora è una giovane donna sicura di sé, impulsiva e temeraria che ha fondato persino una rock band per raggiungere lo scopo, ma tutto cambia quando incontra in un negozio di musica gli occhi verdi di Jessie. Di solo un anno più grande di lei, anche lui condivide il suo stesso sogno e lo insegue con altrettanta tenacia. I due sono così simili che finire per innamorarsi è inevitabile per entrambi. Quando cantano insieme creano una magia unica e sono convinti di essere inarrestabili. Ma la dura realtà li metterà davanti ad un bivio, Jessie compirà una scelta di cui si pentirà amaramente, e Roxanne ne pagherà le conseguenze. Una delusione d’amore a diciassette anni non dovrebbe fare così male, ma Roxy non è come tutte le altre ragazze della sua età. Quel dolore la plasmerà e la spronerà ancora di più a raggiungere i suoi obbiettivi, ma anche Jessie non è tipo da arrendersi e quando desidera qualcosa è disposto a tutto pur di ottenerla. Negli anni le loro strade si incroceranno più e più volte, ma sapranno finalmente mettere da parte orgoglio e ambizione per amore?

[tuseriesdetv]

Noticias de series de la semana: El futuro pinta regular para 'American Gods'

Habrá otro showrunner para American Gods

Fremantle, la productora de American Gods, le ha pedido a Jesse Alexander, nuevo showrunner tras la marcha de Bryan Fuller y Michael Green, que abandone la serie debido al descontento de los actores y a los retrasos y desavenencias con el guion -ya en su séptima versión- de la segunda season finale, que debería estar grabándose ya en lugar de los cambios que se están haciendo de episodios ya terminados. No se usa la palabra despido, pero se sabe que no participará en la edición, la producción o la postproducción. [Fuente]

Renovaciones

Netflix ha renovado Las chicas del cable por una cuarta temporada

BBC One ha renovado His Dark Materials por una segunda temporada

Netflix ha renovado Insatiable por una segunda temporada

Amazon ha renovado Absentia por una segunda temporada

Cancelaciones

La quinta temporada de Poldark (BBC One) será la última

Incorporaciones y fichajes

Aaron Paul (Breaking Bad, The Path) se une como regular a la tercera temporada de Westworld. Se desconocen detalles.

Katherine Langford (13 Reasons Why; Love, Simon) será Nimue, destinada a convertirse en la Dama del Lago, en Cursed, reinvención de la historia del rey Arturo.

Zachary Quinto (Heroes, American Horror Story) y Ashleigh Cummings (Hounds of Love) protagonizarán NOS4A2. Serán Charlie Manx, un villano aparentemente inmortal que se alimenta de almas de niños; y Vic McQueen, una artista de clase obrera con la habilidad de rastrearlo.

Chloë Sevigny (American Horror Story, Big Love) y AnnaSophia Robb (The Carrie Diaries, Mercy Street) se unen a The Act. Serán Mel y Lacy, madre e hija y vecinas de Dee Dee (Patricia Arquette) y Gypsy (Joey King).

Vincent D'Onofrio (Daredevil, Law & Order: Criminal Intent) será Vincent 'Chin' Gigante, un exboxeador que consigue convertirse en líder de la mafia genovesa, en Godfather of Harlem. Ilfenesh Hadera (She's Gotta Have It, Show Me a Hero) será Mayme, esposa de Bumpy Johnson (Forest Whitaker).

Eva Longoria (Desperate Housewives, Telenovela) participará como invitada en Grand Hotel interpretando a Beatriz, primera mujer de Santiago (Demian Bichir) y antigua dueña del hotel. Jencarlos Canela (Telenovela, Pecados ajenos) será recurrente como El Rey, un cantante conocido al que ofrecen actuar como habitual en el hotel.

Melanie Griffith (Working Girl, Lolita), Claudia O'Doherty (Love, Trainwreck), Sherie Rene Scott (P.S. I Love You) y Dan Aid serán recurrentes en SMILF como la madre y la hermana de Nelson (Samara Weaving); Jackie, tía de Bridgette (Frankie Shaw) y hermana de Tutu (Rosie O'Donnell); y Hank, compañero de clase de Bridgette.

James Marsden (Westworld, X-Men), Ed Asner (The Mary Tyler Moore Show, Studio 60), Max Jenkins (The Mysteries of Laura, Grey's Anatomy) y Luke Roessler (Legion, Bates Motel) se unen a Dead to Me. Marsden y Asner serán el nuevo interés amoroso de Judy (Linda Cardellini) y un anciano de la residencia en la que Judy trabaja.

Shane West (Nikita, Salem) será recurrente en la quinta y última temporada de Gotham como Eduardo Dorrance, un antiguo compañero del ejército de Jim Gordon (Ben McKenzie).

Barry Sloane (Revenge, Six) será recurrente en L.A.'s Finest como Dante, hermano de Ray Sherman (Zach McGowan).

Neal McDonough (Desperate Housewives, Arrow) será recurrente en la segunda temporada de Yellowstone como Malcolm Beck, un adinerado magnate que dirige un casino junto a su hermano.

Bob Saget (Fuller House, Entourage) será el padre D'Amico, un sacerdote con el que tendrán que hablar Kev (Steve Howey) y V (Shanola Hampton), en un episodio de la novena temporada de Shameless. Jess Gabor (Mormon for a Month) y Luis Guzmán (Code Black, Narcos) serán recurrentes como Kelly Keefe, hija de un oficial del ejército y alumna de West Point que entra en la vida de Carl (Ethan Cutkosky); y Mikey O'Shea, un contrincante de Frank (William H. Macy) en una campaña para encontrar la cara representante de un licor barato.

Elaine Hendrix (Sex & Drugs & Rock & Roll, The Parent Trap) será recurrente en Proven Innocent como Susan Andrews, una desvergonzada autoridad televisiva que lidera la opinión pública.

Shaun Toub (Homeland, Iron Man) será recurrente en Snowpiercer como Terence, un antiguo conserje convertido en un peligroso gangster.

Ben Miller (Johnny English, Death in Paradise), Alexandra Roach (Utopia, No Offence), Sean Sagar (Top Boy, Our Girl), Susannah Fielding (Black Mirror, The Great Indoors), Gwilym Lee (Jamestown, Bohemian Rhapsody), Phoebe Nicholls (Fortitude, The Elephant Man), Ritu Arya (Humans, Doctors), Michael Cochrane (Downton Abbey, The Iron Lady) y Debbie Chazen (Holby City) acompañarán a Ken Nwosu en The Man.

Ted Levine (The Alienist, Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom), Mel Rodriguez (Getting On, The Last Man on Earth) y Beth Ditto (Don't Worry, He Won't Get Far on Foot) se unen como regulares a On Becoming A God In Central Florida. Usman Ally (Veep, A Series of Unfortunate Events) se une como recurrente.

Xander Berkeley (The Walking Dead, Nikita) será el padre de Ben (Sam Witwer) en la cuarta temporada de Supergirl.

Noah Emmerich (The Americans, The Truman Show), Topher Grace (That '70s Show, War Machine), Robert Sean Leonard (House, Dead Poets Society), James D'Arcy (Agent Carter, Broadchurch), Nick Searcy (Justified, 11.22.63), Liam Cunningham (Game of Thrones, Clash of the Titans), Paul James (The Path, The Last Ship) y Robert Wisdom (The Wire, The Alienist) protagonizarán The Hot Zone junto a Julianna Margulies.

Lily Dodsworth-Evans (Genius), Kerri McLean (Electric Dreams), Sofia Oxenham (Grantchester), Vincent Regan (The Royals, 300), Peter Sullivan (Marcella, Entebbe) y Freddie Wise (Maleficent 2) se unen a la quinta y última temporada de Poldark. Se desconocen detalles.

Elizabeth Tulloch (Grimm, The Artist) será Lois Lane en el crossover del Arrowverse.

Craig Parker (Reign, Spartacus: Blood and Sand) será Alastair Caine, CEO de Morningstar Biotech y benefactor de la universidad en la que trabaja Macy (Madeleine Mantock), en Charmed.

Jason Dirden (Greenleaf, House of Payne), Iantha Richardson (This Is Us), Christopher Jefferson (5th Ward), Katlyn Nichol y Jelani Winston se unen a American Soul.

Mykelti Williamson (Forrest Gump, Justified) será recurrente en la tercera temporada de Lethal Weapon como Tom Barnes, quien recluta a Cole (Seann William Scott) en la CIA.

Adan Rocha (Brockmire) se une como regular a Murphy Brown. Será Miguel, inmigrante mexicano y estudiante universitario que trabaja con Phyllis (Tyne Daly).

Clementine Nicholson (Underworld: Blood Wars) será recurrente en la segunda temporada de Knightfall como Margaret, princesa de Borgoña y esposa de Louis (Tom Forbes).

Matthew Le Nevez (Offspring, The Kettering Incident) y Natasha Little (The Night Manager, Thirteen) se unen a la segunda temporada de Absentia. Serán Cal Isaac, un ex Navy SEAL que entiende muy bien a Emily (Stana Katic); Julianne Gunnarsen, agente especial del FBI que viaja a Boston tras un ataque terrorista.

Nikki Amuka-Bird (Quarry, Luther), Alex Jennings (Unforgotten, The Crown), Julia McKenzie (The Casual Vacancy, Notes on a Scandal), Sebastian Armesto (Poldark, Broadchurch), Jemima Rooper (Atlantis, Trauma) y Archie Renaux se unen a Gold Digger. Serán Marsha, antigua mejor amiga de Julia (Julia Ormond); Ted, exmarido de Julia; Hazel, madre de Ted; y Patrick, Della y Leo, los tres hijos de Julia.

Terrence J (Burlesque, Battle of the Year) y Lyndie Greenwood (Nikita, Sleepy Hollow) serán recurrentes en la tercera temporada de Star como Ryan French, un presentador con muchos seguidores; y Megan Jetter, abogada que acaba de abrir su propia firma.

Jay Reeves será recurrente en All American como Shawn Scott, antiguo amigo de la niñez de Spencer (Daniel Ezra).

Maya Lynne Robinson sustituye a Xosha Roquemore en el papel de Geena, esposa de DJ (Michael Fishman) y madre de Mary (Jayden Rey), en The Conners.

Pósters

         Nuevas series

Peter Calloway (Cloak & Dagger, Legion) escribe la adaptación televisiva del videojuego Alan Wake, sobre un novelista de éxito que viaja a un pequeño pueblo del estado de Washington para acabar con su bloqueo de escritor y allí descubre que el argumento de su último libro, que no recuerda haber escrito, ha cobrado vida. Sam Lake, creador del videojuego, producirá la serie.

Starz ha dado luz verde directa a P-Town, drama que trata la actual crisis de muertes por sobredosis de opiáceos en Estados Unidos y que se centra en Jackie (Monica Raymund; Chicago Fire, Lie to Me), una chica lesbiana de Provincetown, Massachusetts que trabaja como agente federal en el servicio nacional de pesca marina y, al encontrar un cadáver en la costa, se enfrenta a su adicción mientras se obsesiona cada vez más con resolver el asesinato. Escrita y producida por Rebecca Cutter (Gotham, The Mentalist) y producida por Jerry Bruckheimer.

ABC ha adquirido la secuela de Designing Women (1986-1993). No hay encargo de piloto aún.

Fechas

Queen America llega a Facebook Watch el 21 de noviembre

Otras imágenes

Titans

Tráilers

Queen America

Élite

Outlander - Temporada 4

The Romanoffs

Homecoming

Chilling Adventures of Sabrina

Into The Dark

Grey's Anatomy - Temporada 15

How to Get Away with Murder - Temporada 5

9-1-1 - Temporada 2

The Cry

Supergirl - Temporada 4

Lethal Weapon - Temporada 3

The Gifted - Temporada 2

South Park - Temporada 22

Daredevil - Temporada 3

[peculiarparasol]

The Wraith’s Choice Chapter 16

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29604183/chapters/73867860

[peculiarparasol]

The Wraith’s Choice Chapter 20

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29604183/chapters/74493411

[peculiarparasol]

The Wraith’s Choice Chapter 19

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29604183/chapters/74120859

[peculiarparasol]

The Wraith’s Choice Chapter 18

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29604183/chapters/73985868

[peculiarparasol]

The Wraith’s Choice Chapter 11

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29604183/chapters/73448985#workskin

[peculiarparasol]

The Wraith’s Choice Chapter 9

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29604183/chapters/73328520

[peculiarparasol]

The Wraith’s Choice Chapter 21

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29604183/chapters/74544414

[peculiarparasol]

The Wraith’s Choice Chapter 7

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29604183/chapters/73199535