#[ lbrh i just wanted to write the iconic jessica alba nosebleed & those cool spooky dark fingers ]

[vuulpecula]

✖ @mistrdctr inquired: 55

spotify wrapped | always accepting ↳ 55. night channels - foxing

Her fault. Her fault. Her fault. He was going to die, and it was all her fault. Hands pressed desperately over his middle, trying to staunch the bleeding that flowed endlessly, Fox tried to save the life that was already slipping away between her fingers. Shredded muscle and sinew twisted with the tattered remains of his robes, weaving together around her incapable digits like a grotesque mockery of a cat’s cradle. Maybe with medical equipment, earthly objects from that life left behind, his life would be spared—but there was nothing. Nothing she could reach for or grab, no one to call, there was nothing she could do. The great Doctor Strange was dying and the world would be lesser for it.

“Please, please,” her arms were shaking as she begged for that tiny spark of something to appear. Concentrating, digging as deep as she could for any shred of healing power or magic or whatever it was. The shaking became worse. The edges around him, laying prone beneath her unlit hands, began to fade. Melting into a darkness she fought to keep back. Blood dripped from her nostrils, a splitting headache brought forth a spasm of pain, and still she tried. Frantic for anything and lacking in everything. There was no fighting the dizziness that sent the world around them spinning, meshing every color together until all she could see was black.

A deep red glow filled the space and from it walked a woman. Spine straight, moving unhurried to kneel beside the dying Strange. “We clung to our warp weighted loom,” she began softly. “By the time we were done, we were woven in. Such constriction from a self-made trap.” It was Fox and it wasn’t. She was different. Perhaps a little older, confident, oozing with the darkness of power, and looking down upon him with the softness of seeing an old friend. A hand, fingers sooty with darkness, rested over his wound. Again, a glow began, pulsing a deep orange where it had once been gold. The pieces of him that had fallen apart began to weave back together once more. Cells healing in a way that seemed wholly impossible.

With her other hand, she pushed the hair back from his brow. “And on these antlers, dry-rot cracks through.” As if he was crowned or meant to be. This Fox, she glanced to the other beside him. Unconscious and incapable. “I left myself too open for you,” she reflected before turning her attention back to him. “So, by now I know what decay is.” There was a sadness in the way she said it, as if all three had been connected in some mysterious way that had led her down the darker path. The corrupted path. Wanda Maximoff was not the only witch tempted by that which she could not have.

“I’ll lay on waves until the night channels end,” Fox stated, as if telling him where she would be. Where he could find the beginning to the end that would not come for him. Not now, at least. She leaned close to him, his body nearly healed completely beneath her hand. “Future love,” she whispered against the shell of his ear. “Don’t fall apart.” As quickly as she had come, she was gone. Disappearing into the fading glow like a figment of a twisted imagination.

#x | burning the letters ( ANSWERED. ) #mistrdctr #[ listen ] #[ LISTEN ] #[ idk what happened idk how anything works but what if alternate universe fox somehow got the darkhold???? ] #[ villain arc for literally no reason ??? ] #[ maybe even killed her universes strange omg ] #[ lbrh i just wanted to write the iconic jessica alba nosebleed & those cool spooky dark fingers ] #[ AND PLS IGNORE HOW LONG IT GOT OK FOXING IS SO INSPIRING TO ME IM SORRY ] #x | v. undetermined. #blood tw #light gore tw #death tw