#Me latching on characters who always stand back up who were tortured who suffered and suffered and suffered and still choose kindness

[backpackingspace]

......oh. I just

Sometimes I know things about a character that I've latched on to that I don't think that deeply about. Until it hits me that that was me. I was that age the character was when I was going through the exact same trauma and i just.

If they didn't deserve it. If they were a child then so was I. So was I.

[jo-harrington]

Hell - Vampire!Eddie Munson

Summary: Vecna, weak and wounded after the events of March 27th 1986, seeks to enact revenge on those who foiled his plans. And his key to such revenge? A boy left behind, barely clinging to life.

Warnings/Themes: Angst, Violence, Kas!Eddie/Vamp!Eddie, Vecna Lives, Body Horror, Blood, Physical and Psychological Torture, Manipulation, Brainwashing, Necromancy, Loss of Soul, Transformation, Major Character Death and Rebirth, Other Biblical and Literary References

Note: So…welcome to my take on Vampire/Kas!Eddie. This fic, entitled Hell, can be read as a stand-alone, but is essentially going to be one of three companion prequels to a Vamp!Eddie AU fic I have in the works. I want to finish FF and get a few more chapters of Store Manager Verse published before I really start working on this idea…but with tomorrow being the “anniversary” of Eddie Munson’s “death” in the Upside Down, it only seems poetic to explore this first.

That being said, this fic and the subsequent fics/chapters in the series will not be for the faint of heart. Please check the above warnings and ask yourself if you are in the correct headspace to proceed. I am happy to answer any questions via PM or Ask.

You can find the As Above, So Below masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

"And I looked, and beheld a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him."

—Revelation 6:8

In the beginning, there was pain.

Enough pain that it should have been The End.

Eddie believed the pain meant The End.

But he had never been so lucky to experience the end of any suffering before, so he should have known better.

He couldn't recall the moment Dustin's hands were wrenched away from his body, leaving him floating in the darkness. Or the way his body felt before the teeth ripped into him. Or the act of kindness that led him to this horrible punishment.

The road to Hell was paved with good intentions. It vaguely echoed in the back of his mind, taunting him.

And in some way, Eddie Munson always knew he was going to Hell.

Just not like this.

First it seized his body and paralyzed him, as acrid tendrils poisoned his veins and his heart and his mind; he briefly recalled reading about Komodo Dragons in 5th grade. The way they ripped into their prey and let the venom work slowly and painfully to overtake them before the feast could begin.

He would not be a feast for the creatures of this realm but for their Master. Repentance for their failed tasks. They would not feed again until he did, wouldn't taste power until his was regained.

And feed is exactly what Vecna did.

The tendrils carded through Eddie's memories and poisoned them: his hopes and fears, everything and everyone he loved and held dear. His joy and indifference and hatred.

They decimated everything good; ripped them up from the roots and salted the ground below them, only leaving unrecognizable scraps behind. Then they latched onto the bad with no intention of ever letting go. Suckled on his sorrow and his hatred gluttonously.

Vecna especially liked to graze on the pain though; those morsels were most succulent and came in abundance. It was never enough, though; in the howling silence, even more pain was willed into existence.

You are alone. They are at fault. They tricked you. Sacrificed you.

Eddie never had a reason to let the pain weigh on his heart before, but his tormentor would see that rectified. He would break him down...

They left you behind. Left you to this fate. Left you to me. To do with you what I please.

...Until he no longer felt anymore.

And do to you I shall...

After eternity had passed, Eddie's body was unceremoniously dragged across the barren, uneven earth of the Upside Down. He watched the chilling, sizzling, flashing of the unfamiliar sky as he was transported for miles and miles, ad infinitum.

Until a threshold was crossed, and he entered the next circle of unending torture.

His carcass was rent into unnatural shapes, bones cracked, the marrow scraped out. Skin was flayed, flesh split open, until his barely-beating heart was on display and blood splashed weakly onto the over-saturated ground.

His eyes though...remained.

For some reason, Vecna wanted him to see.

The eyes are the windows to the soul, after all.

So he let Eddie stare at the rest of his collection—an unfinished one, but an impressive one nonetheless. He let Eddie stare at the looming pillars; at the empty sockets and gaping maws. At twisted husks that would never truly be filled again.

Because he wanted Eddie to choose to lose his soul. Wanted him to sell it. To trade it for salvation, lest he end up like the others.

It was almost disappointing at how short a time it took...

It was only a day—a day of staring at Chrissy and Fred and Patrick—before he wailed so wildly and begged so loudly that his jaw unhinged and every part of him truly became broken.

And at that moment, everything Eddie Munson was or had been or could ever hope to be no longer belonged to him. He was ripped apart both literally and figuratively. Whatever damage the bats had instinct to cause, it was but a mere drop in the sea of carnage that their Master endeavored to create.

He could sense the creatures around him, sense their anticipation to frenzy. Whether that was to fight or to feed, only time would tell.

They had worked tirelessly to stitch him back together. Followed their Master's instructions. Some were sacrificed to the cause: their bodies freely given, because their minds would remain.

Part of the greater whole.

He would never be considered whole anymore, but he was possible more than whole; the extra pieces sustained what would have perished due to the crucial part of him that was missing.

"Rise," a groaning, creaking voice sounded and all went silent. As all the creatures of the Upside Down witnessed the completion of a wicked metamorphosis.

The product of their collective toil began to writhe and twitch as it was reborn.

Resurrected.

"Rise," Henry repeated, "and become what you were always meant to be."

And in a realm full of monsters, the thing that rose was truly monstrous.

Leathery wings. Rows of teeth, too many to fit so they left his jaw unnaturally wide. Talons that could rip. Eyes that could cut through any sort of darkness.

He wouldn't bow. His Master remade him so he would never bow. But he still knew his place.

This gift he was given could easily be taken away. He wouldn't squander it.

He made a vow. A promise.

He would serve.

But he made a promise before, he recalled.

A promise not to be a hero.

And as a consequence of breaking that promise, he could never be one again.

Eddie always knew he was going to Hell.

He simply never thought he would become the Prince of it.

“You are privy to a great Becoming and you recognize nothing. You are an ant in the after-birth. It is in your nature to do one thing correctly: before Me you rightly tremble. Fear is not what you owe Me[.] You owe Me awe.”

—Thomas Harris, Red Dragon (1980)

[dreamteamspace]

They really went there huh

/rp (good lord I rly hyperfixated on this essay huh)

torture tw, abuse tw, manipulation tw, gaslighting tw

So the Dream SMP built a character, once maybe morally gray, who slipped straight into villany with little to no desire to change, and willing to cause a LOT of pain to get his way. Despite this, he doesn’t question what he does enough to stop, justifying his actions with a good intent that doesn’t come close to justifying what he’s done.

C!Dream is unremorseful of what he’s done, he’s quite literally manipulated and gaslit (like actually, not in the way everyone keeps throwing the word around) c!Tommy, almost drove him to take his last life- like, jesus christ. That’s not even to mention blowing up L’Manburg three times, encouraging c!Wilbur, wanting the discs JUST to have power over c!Tommy, etc.

SO, he gets thrown in a box for it so he doesn’t hurt anybody anymore, making his own hubris his downfall (narrative consequence my beloved). This leads us to a good finale - the bad guy, the person who’s caused objectively the most pain and destruction, is now unable to do so anymore, taken down by the person whom he tried to weaken. It is also revealed he was planning on blackmailing and threatening pretty much everyone, but now everyone gets their stuff back.

Good, right?

Especially for the finale, yeah! The message of the finale is good, c!Tommy manages to escape his abuser with nothing more but his clothes on his back and fights his way back to c!Tubbo and his home.

He doesn’t let his trauma (which is still very present!) let him become a terrible person (arguably the way that c!Dream DID let his frustrations make him a terrible person, c!Tommy, despite bearing quite a heavy weight, recognizes when he begins to turn that way and actively works against it).

It shows that while alone, c!Tubbo and c!Tommy were outfought by Dream, but because c!Tommy went the length to ask for help (which he didn’t even really seem to be relying on actually showing up), he wins! It truly is a good message.

C!Tommy escapes his abuser and manipulator, refuses and fights his trauma to not become someone he doesn’t want to be, and defeats his abuser by asking for help and receiving it, even more than he thought he’d get. He refuses to play c!Dream’s “game”, refuses till the very last moment to let c!Tubbo die, to surrender and say goodbye to him.

So, great! Good finale! C!Dream The Villain is boxed like a fish in a prison of, quite literally, his own making. It sent a good message to people. C!Tommy wasn’t expected to forgive him and did, in fact, axe him down twice, causing c!Dream to finally fall from his high horse.

Most media would stop at this point, say the villain is now defeated and never show them again, or have them come back another one or two seasons later, escaped and seemingly unharmed and worse than ever.

Alternatively, there’s a throwaway line, (or, in good media, a genuine, reasonable backstory, complete with remorse and bad role models and complicated situations), that allows the villain to be redeemed.

In GOOD redemption arcs (See: Zuko from avatar tbh), the villain was already never quite as heartless, or stressed their good intent, or felt remorse for what they felt they “had to do”. Then, ideally, the villain takes a looooong time adjusting their habits, regretting their actions and changing until they’re considered redeemed.

Not on the Dream SMP, though.

They don’t stop at c!Dream’s defeat.

He doesn’t dissapear off-screen and is never spoken of again. His life continues on, everyone’s does, just like it would in reality. He doesn’t magically want to become a better person, far from it. So no redemption. But he doesn’t dissapear, either.

They go on to, slowly, stress how awful the conditions in Pandora’s Vault are. c!Bad says c!Dream should be imprisoned, but at least at slightly better conditions. We’re in very VERY morally gray territorry here. Nobody says c!Dream is a good person, of course not, but even c!Bad - who knows Dream was planning on keeping c!Skeppy in a cage to control him with - goes, “yeah, he should stay boxed, but does he really need to like... suffer suffer?”

Still, c!Dream seems to be kindof inconsistent in his behavior. Is he faking his pain? Is he not? His actions don’t fully make sense for either take. He acts differently to each person, but at the same time some things he does don’t make sense if he were just fishing for pity.

Then c!Sam admits to trying (and thinking he succeeded) to “break Dream’s will”, to quite literally starving him for weeks.

Okay, so now we’re a step further. C!Dream is now suffering even more, although already boxed and unable to hurt anyone. Pandora’s Vault is one thing, but now c!Sam just seems to be out for revenge and nothing more. Instead of spending his time with c!Tommy, he spends his time pickaxing(?) c!Dream.

C!Sam isn’t an angel, and we should all know that by now. He does what he thinks is right, but he’s deeper than that, all characters on the DSMP are.

He cares deeply for the Badlands, and would always choose them above anybody else. He’s a capitalist. He built the prison because it would benefit the Badlands resource-wise, despite knowing Dream would probably use it on his enemies, and it was no secret that ALL members of L’Manburg, especially c!Tommy, are his enemies. C!Sam, undoubtedly, knew that. He still built it.

Arguably, he didn’t know about c!Dream’s attachment obsession at the time, but the point still stands.

People have already latched onto the untold story happening between c!Dream and c!Sam, and frankly, we barely know enough about it. Does c!Sam torture him regularly? Do they talk? Does c!Dream try to verbally fight back? CAN he fight back? We don’t know! We’ve gotten proof for both, between c!Sam saying that c!Dream is terrifying even in prison and c!Dream going silent to go on strike. We don’t have enough of an idea how bad or how good it truly is.

So the people who prefer to humanize c!Dream and explore morality imagine c!Sam to downright torture him, people that prefer to see c!Dream as nothing but evil due to his actions imagine prison on the DSMP to not be equivalent to real life prison, and thus nowhere near as torturous as people are making it out to be.

Now all that is thrown out the window as c!Quackity quite literally tortures him.

So now the internet is faced with a question that, judging by some of the impulsive reactions *cough cough* celebrating torture *cough*, it didn’t turn out to be ready for.

Tell me.

How far do we go?

C!Dream hurt a LOT of people. He did a lot of things that caused irreparable damage. Now what? Do we torture him forever? Why? Because he deserves it? How do we determine that without comparing one kind of pain to another?

It’s custom and kindof generally respectful not to compare people’s pain too accurately, because different things vary greatly in severity depending on the person that experiences them.

At what point do we say he’s suffered enough without comparing exile to the prison?

And if we DO compare, does that even make the question easier to answer?

And if he’s never suffered enough ever, killing them would be a mercy...

At what point has a person done enough damage that they “deserve” to die? What if someone only did half of the things c!Dream did. But if c!Dream gets infinite punishment, and half of infinity is still infinity, do they ALSO deserve endless suffering?

Do you think every person that did something you can’t emphasize with deserves to suffer for eternity and die?

I’m not saying we SHOULD emphasize with c!Dream. He did things we cannot justify, that NOTHING can justify. He did things that were, by their nature, unjustified.

I’m also not saying anybody should forgive him. I think it’s a GOOD thing that c!Tommy doesn’t want nor is narratively pushed to forgive c!Dream.

But c!Dream doesn’t need c!Tommy’s forgiveness to be... a person.

There’s a saying that I’m sure you know, that goes “I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.”, because there’s things you wouldn’t want any human being to experience. Not because you like them, not cause you think they’re right, but because they’re human.

And perhaps this is my personal opinion, but I don’t think c!Dream being a bad person justifies dehumanizing him, because then we get into an area where someone needs to meet criteria just to be human.

-

I met someone once, whom, because of outside circumstances I knew I probably wouldn’t meet again. We’d been getting along just fine for people who just met, and were both getting into an interesting discussion about morality. They kept insisting upon something I kept refuting, so they said they needed to get something off their chest.

They proceeded to tell me that they had, years ago, while a teen, manipulated someone in a relationship, pushed boundaries and tried to convince them to do things they didn’t really want to do to get what they wanted.

They cried, while telling me, too terrified to tell anybody they know, terrified nobody would ever speak to them again, insanely regretful of their actions. They didn’t know whether to go back and apologize or just stay as far away as humanly possible, didn’t know which one the right thing to do is.

It had been years, by then, and I talked them through it. I said that what they did was bad, and there’s no going around that. But I also said what I saw, which is someone who would never do something like that ever again. I saw a human being. Someone who regrets a mistake they did and now, after enough time has passed, would do anything to make it undone.

Someone who is too terrified to be close to anybody in fear that they would do it again. I don’t remember if they already went to therapy or not, but it was definitly on the table, or in the near future.

They asked me how I could possibly even keep talking to them after they told me all that. They implied they felt like some kind of monster despite literally chocking back tears, firmly convinced they don’t deserve to be close to anybody in their life ever again.

I never swerved from the fact that what they did was wrong, and harmful. But I also told them they’re human. The universe isn’t keeping score. They want to be a better person now, and they were never going to learn how if they never let themselves be close to anybody.

I told them to seek therapy, and to slowly, carefully, try. Assured them that the fact that they regret it so strongly will at least help them in not falling back into the same pattern, and if they do, they can learn to recognize that.

They thanked me after the conversation, genuinely, especially for the fact that I didn’t sugarcoat what happened, because I know otherwise it would’ve felt like I was lying, like I was just sparing their feelings. I wasn’t. I was thinking about how to make sure they get to live without hurting anybody.

As per the circumstances, we didn’t speak again after that, which we knew basicly from the very start.

-

I still think about that conversation a lot.

Do you think they should’ve been locked up for life after it happened, instead?

Do you think this real human being, that I spoke to, that took years to realize their mistake - and never would have realized it if they hadn’t had the time to, if they’d been killed right afterwards - deserves to suffer forever?

Let me tell you something, from someone who’s been in more than one abusive situation: People that hurt you are human.

That doesn’t mean you have to forgive them. That doesn’t mean you have to like them. That doesn’t mean you have to make an effort to understand them. That doesn’t mean you need to go anywhere near them ever again.

You can hate them. You can be angry at them. You can (and should) go as far away from them as possible, and/or defend yourself.

But that doesn’t mean you have to dehumanize them.

You’re allowed to hate and dislike people that are human, because you’re human, especially if they hurt you. That’s how life is.

And to go back to my original point - c!Quackity torturing c!Dream is not something that should be celebrated.

There’s a difference between necessary measures (locking c!Dream up so he doesn’t hurt anyone), and torturing people for fun.

It’s not right. It’s never going to be right, and do not justify literal torture on human beings, and do not make someone lower-than-human to justify torturing them.

Taking revenge on someone for what they did tenfold is romanticized, I know, but I promise you it’s not actually as cool as it sounds.

[cross-d-a]

Why Anakin is still the Chosen One

Here are some tired thoughts before I go to sleep:

Anakin literally tells Rey to bring balance to the Force like he once did. He defeated Palpatine in episode VI and brought balance then. Yeah, Palpatine apparently lived but that doesn't mean Anakin didn't bring balance.

Ever since Force Awakens I can't help but think that this whole sequel trilogy is an allegory for our current political state, specifically: Neo-nazism. The Empire is modeled after Nazis. There's no question. Fascist totalitarianism wrapped up in a genocidal Empire?? Yeah, no thanks.

But then we've got the First Order. They're trying to revive past ideals, trying to revive the Empire. They're a whole mix of people: born into a fascist family like Hux, original Empire loyalists like Pryde, children stolen and brainwashed into it like the stormtroopers-- racism and hate comes from a lot of different backgrounds (it can be taught, it can be learned), but they all tend to latch onto certain beliefs and political structures. It helps the First Order that (from what I can tell) the New Republic was a copy of the first. From the prequels it's easy to tell that it's a broken system. The Empire didn't just spring up out of nowhere. Palpatine was a crafty son of a bitch but even he couldn't sway billions upon billions of people to his side. Those feelings of hate and prejudice and greed had to already exist- Palpatine just took advantage of it and stoked the flames (not even gonna go into real world parallels here).

There is a reason why I'm talking about this. I'm talking about Anakin, who was raised a slave. Who was already a victim of hate and all the evils in the galaxy because he was a SLAVE. A little boy who only wanted to help people, who wanted to break the system that allowed him and the rest of his people to suffer. Then he was freed and thrust into a position of privilege within the system that made it possible for Anakin to be born a slave. And there he was, told over and over that he was the Chosen one. That he must bring balance. But it wasn't the kind of balance he sought since he was a little boy. I think Anakin just wanted everyone to be equal, and the kind of balance the Jedi believed in didn't necessarily mirror that since they were an integral part of the Republic.

But I digress.

I'm bringing up Anakin's childhood in slavery (and arguably, his whole life of slavery) because Anakin is was folded into this Nazi-like Empire which went against everything that he believed in as a child. Everything his mother believed in. Palpatine and the Empire twisted him and yes I love Anakin to death and he is such a victim of circumstance (and he is such a nuanced, interesting character), but he did some pretty terrible things as Darth Vader. He became everything that he ever wanted to fight against.

And then he said no.

He watched Palpatine torture his son. He watched Palpatine try it use his son. And we all know how much Anakin values family. Anakin chose to end fhat circle of hate and suffering. He was the first one to stand his ground and save the person he loved and actually succeed- and with that action he became the catalyst for defeating the Empire.

The thing about Anakin is that he has always been the catalyst. His birth was a seemingly impossible thing. The Jedi discovering him set in motion both Palpatine's plan and the Jedi's defeat. And then Palpatine's eventual destruction.

I'm not discounting every single other person in the Star Wars universe who has suffered or fought for what is right (shout out to Ezra 'spark of the rebellion' Bridger). But there is no doubt that without Anakin we would not have a Star Wars series. Everything revolves around him, whether it's believing he's the chosen one, believing he is the villain we must defeat, or knowing he is someone we must live up to and emulate.

Without Anakin's sacrifice, without him remembering what's truly important (family, love, freedom), the Empire would not have been defeated. Luke would have died. Leia probably, too. Palpatine would have utterly destroyed the galaxy (maybe we'd see some actual Dark!Rey way down the line). Anakin stood up, stood his ground and said No.

The real reason why Anakin is the Chosen One is because he IS that catalyst. Because he did rise from oppression and servitude and had the strength to say No.

I'm going to bring up the Neo-Nazism again: the New Republic rose up to replace the Republic. The First Order rose up to emulate the Empire. I would argue that the First Order became so powerful because the structures that allowed the Empire to rise in the first place still existed.

Yoda says in the original trilogy: There is another. (Yeah you know what like I'm talking about) You could argue that it's Leia (it certainly meant to be at the time). You could argue that it's baby Yoda (my boy!!). But I would argue that it is the next generation.

You see, you can't just defeat evil once and be done with it. We certainly hoped we would when WWII ended, but the fight is never done. Neo-Nazis still exist. Terrible, terrible people still exist. And maybe it's learned, maybe it's passed down through the family-- you can learn to hate in a lot of different ways. The structures that allowed Nazis to rise up like they did still exist today. We still face racism and homophobia and anti-Semitism. The battle is not over.

That's why I think these sequel movies are important (despite my problems with it, but I won't go into that here). I would love to think that after episode VI everyone lived a happily ever after. There was no more evil, no more suffering and slavery and thoughtless killing. But it doesn't work like that. Even though that's the ending I want, even though that's the ending I sometimes need-- every generation faces its own threat. Its own call to the past.

I have my own confused reservations about Rey parentage, but I adore that she rejects the legacy of hate. We see what she is capable of. We see that (just like Anakin) she could give in to what she thinks is the lesser of two evils. (It's okay as long as the people I love get to live, right?') We see that she is fully capabale of it even. She struggles with it, much more (I would argue) than either of the other two movies. She struggles to reject that part of herself and she struggles to acknowledge that she is born from that legacy (as so many would). Who would be proud to know they came from a family of Nazis? Not many people I hope.

And maybe it's because her parents chose to "be no one" that she is able to find the strength to think "maybe I don't have to go down this path." I would love to know more about her parents and how they chose to completely defy expectations, but I'll content myself for now with this:

Rey chose to reject the legacy of hate, and instead followed Anakin's own defiance. She's choosing her own legacy: combatting of hate and violence. Embracing love and hope. Learning from the mistakes of the past.

In a way, Ben Solo is right: let the past die. We must destroy the hatred and intolerance of our past. We must tear down the structures our forefathers put in place that allowed this hatred to arise and take over the galaxy. But he's also wrong. We have no way to know how to be better than our forefathers if we don't remember their mistakes. If we don't remember what they fought for and believed in. That's why "a thousand generations live within [Rey] now." She chose to follow the legacy of love and hope that the Jedi embody. And yes, the Jedi have their own problems, but that doesn't change the fact that they did their best to fight for what they thought was right. And, this is something to remember:

Yoda said: We are what they grow beyond.

Luke and Leia continued on that legacy of hope where Anakin and Padmé and Obi-Wan were unable to continue. They succeeded where those three failed. And, I hope, Rey (and Finn and Poe) will be able to succeed where Luke and Leia and Han couldn't. Where the Jedi couldn't.

It's up to everyone that comes after us to remember where they came from and discover how to grow beyond where we failed.

And now I'm back to where I began: Anakin. He tells Rey to bring balance to the Force like he once did. We hear many other voices (Luke's, Yoda's, Ahsoka's, even Kanan's and Ayala Secura's), but to me Anakin's was by far the most prominent. I love that we hear Obi-Wan's voice first ("These are your final steps"), and perhaps this is a parallel to Obi-Wan trying to call Anakin back to the light so many years ago. But Anakin's is so prominent. Ben and Rey are extremely important each other (and there is so much to unpack there), but Anakin's final push is what gives Rey strength and hope.

Anakin reminds Rey of the past. He reminds Rey that He broke free from that cycle of hate and that she can, too. Anakin is so, so important. He's the prime example that you can end the hate. End the violence. You don't have to be a Nazi like your shitty grandfather.

"Be with me. Be with me," she repeats over and over and over again. She trying to connect with the past. She's trying to understand her position in the universe. And she does, once she accepts her heritage. Once she accepts where she came from. And Anakin is there to help her take those final steps.

This whole sequel trilogy is about legacy. It's about repeating the mistakes of the past. It's about desperately trying to live up to expectations and failing them. It's about desperately trying to forget where you come from and trying to find yourself amidst the echoes of a chaotic past.

And, as always with Star Wars, it's about finding hope in the darkest of places. It's about love and family and saving the people who can't save themselves. This is the legacy that Anakin Skywalker left behind when he saved Luke from Palpatine, and this is the legacy that will continue to be remembered for every generation to come after that.

So Anakin Skywalker is still the Chosen One. He's that bright little slave boy who grew up twisted and lonely and got beaten into submission, yet still found the strength to claw his way back to the light. We all have that strength within ourselves to be better people, and now Rey can carry on that lesson and pass it down from generation to generation.

[theatresweetheart]

Thorns and Arrows

Fandom(s): Sanders Sides, G/t

Prompt: “I’ll take real good care of you, I promise.” With prinxiety? Maybe with big Roman and tiny Virgil? — Asked by @arc852

Summary: Virgil, after narrowly escaping capture by humans who believe his witchcraft is demonic, ends up getting caught by Roman instead.

Warnings: Brief mention of Remus, brief mention of Deceit (Darien), multiple descriptions of blood, disturbing use of language, talk of death, character being treated inhumanely, fear, fainting, crying, swearing, fire. (I think that’s it, but please let me know if I missed anything!)

Pairings: Platonic Prinxiety, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it Logince

Word Count: 4140 words.

A/n: So, I actually had a lot of fun writing this and getting to play around with different perspectives and such. Also, a huge thank you to the ever lovely @hiddendreamer67 for being a fantastic beta and helping me edit! 

(Also, as a side note, I decided not to add this into the ask with the prompt, only because it had gotten so long. Adding “Read More” into my asks has been problematic for now, so I might do every long story like this and the shorter ones answered in asks. That is still to be decided.)

Anyhow, enjoy! 

Taglist: @isle-of-gold  (Feel free to let me know if you ever want to be tagged in future works!) 

                                      +~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+

Life is a cruel mistress, some would say.

She taunts and giggles and gifts more misfortune to the already unfortunate.

To those that had been born into a life with little to no chance of success or survival, she can be loving and kind and extend assistance and a caring hand. Or, she would sit by, watch and grin at the suffering she caused.

Virgil didn’t want to be ungrateful, but as he stumbled through the overgrown underbrush of the forest in a panicked escape from the king’s knights close behind him—with swords and shields and bows and arrows ready—he felt as though he had every right to be sour about his life.

“Halt in the name of the King, witch!”‌ One knight shouted, causing the witch himself to reel and press on forward faster. “You will cease your useless attempt and repent in the Halls of the King before the Royal Court!”

If he had wanted to repent and be dragged back to the court to either be hung or drowned, he would have already turned himself in.

The sounds of his own breathing got loud enough that it was the only thing he could focus on. The blood rushing in his ears, the adrenaline pounding through his veins.

His coven had already been ravaged by fire and death and destruction, his familiar was nowhere to be seen—which worried him greatly—and now he was running blindly through a forest he didn’t know his way out of.

He was in an area of the forest that he had never had the chance to see. A place he had never been taken to, or shown around. He was completely on his own when it came to navigating his way out.

To put it lightly, Virgil was terrified.

The sound of an arrow whizzing by his head, nearly nicking his cheek, made him recoil and duck to the other side, catapulting himself over a fallen log and continuing his sprint.

There was just so much that had gone wrong in such little time. This morning had been like any other morning, quiet, relatively peaceful. He was going to try and spend most of his day perfecting his potions, only for that to have changed within the hour.

How had the knights figured out his coven existed?‌ A false accusation by one of the paranoid townspeople, claiming they had seen another of Virgil’s coven commit a heinous act of witchcraft.

It hadn’t been hard to figure out that the townsfolk were bluffing. It also wasn’t hard to understand that the townspeople didn’t like him or his coven in the first place. They were isolated and kept to themselves a lot, only entering the town square when absolutely necessary. To an outsider, they almost did look a tad too much like witches, but they had never been accused of it before.

There had been rumors, Virgil remembered, when he was little. He remembered staying close to Darien, a hand latched onto the older witch’s jacket as they navigated the town. People would whisper to each other, point and stare, but nothing had ever come of it. It remained only as if it were a whisper on the wind.

There had always been paranoia within the town about the forest and what lurked inside of it, which was understandable.

There were terrible creatures that lurked in the night, searching and stalking for an easy meal. If you didn’t know how to fight back, it would be far too easy to lose. Sometimes, even if you did know how to defend yourself, you just weren’t strong enough.

Some of the animals that did haunt the night were wolves and bats and coyotes and such, but then there were mystical creatures as well; the fae, werewolves, and vampires, which were rare, but there. They mostly lived among the people and not so much in the heart of the woods. It was easier to feed that way.

There were even creatures that were so big they’d be able to swallow a human whole if they so desired.

Now those were the encounters that would strike fear into anyone’s being. Anyone that had a rational head on their shoulders would avoid a giant at all costs.

Then there were the so called “giant hunters”‌ who decided it would be a good idea to go after these massive beings and try to claim fame and fortune.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t likely anyone would return from such a quest.

Not that Virgil felt a shred of pity for them. They had made their choice—no matter how stupid—and it had cost them their lives. So, the only way to go about that was to learn from their mistakes and never make the same choice himself.

The twang of another arrow being loosed caught his attention, but the searing hot agonizing pain that rose from his left shoulder was the thing that shattered every coherent thought in his head. The yelp of pain that came sharply from his mouth made the knights behind him cheer in glee; they had hit their mark!‌ It was only a matter of time now before the witch stumbled and dropped.

While his vision was hazy, Virgil wasn’t letting the arrow get the better of him. He needed to get out of here. He needed to find– to find… find what exactly? What was left for him? His coven was nothing but ashes, his familiar was possibly dead and he was being hunted. It really was only a matter of time before he stumbled to his knees and let the knights have their way with him.

But there was also the sharp resilience that said this isn’t what his family would want for him. The fact that giving up meant losing immediately. The moment one gave up was the moment one lost.

Chancing a glance down at the wound, Virgil saw a steady stream of crimson blood oozing down his left arm, dripping off of his fingertips before it had the chance to dry. He needed to dislodge the arrow, find some way to heal the wound before he bled out…but without a safe place to stop and rest, it was pointless.

Without his eyes on the escape route, he had failed to notice the steep drop down the bank in front of him. Just as his foot caught on a stray root, a sharp cry was ripped from his throat and he stumbled and slid to his knees. Unable to hold himself up any longer, he collapsed to the ground and rolled onto his uninjured side just enough to see the knights approaching him quickly.

The sounds of the armour and weapons clattering got closer and closer, until Virgil could see the three knights standing over him. Looking red in the face and furious, but almost mixed with a horrible look of glee. They got to take what they wanted of him. Torture him, kill him.‌ Anything they so desired.

His chest rose in panting breaths, unsteady but in an almost recognizable pattern. Hazily, his eyes slid over each and every knight, taking in what they looked like. Burning their images into his brain as the last thing he would probably see before they ran him through. He memorized every little detail, including their unbearable grins, sneers and sharp looks that said so much more than words could.

“Absolutely pitiful,”‌ the one to his right said, voice dangerously low. He crouched down, prodding Virgil roughly in the injured shoulder and grinning as the witch hissed at the unwanted and painful touch. “A single arrow takes down the last witch of that disgusting coven. You’d think it’d have more fight. At least a will to live.”

Of course Virgil had a will to live, but surrounded like this, too weak to even try and utter a simple spell?‌ His odds weren’t looking great. But that knight could go and take what little knowledge his fat head carried and shove it where the sun doesn’t shine.

“I almost feel bad,”‌ a second voice piped up, cruel and unrelenting. “Get it up boys. Bring it back to the King.”

The first knight got down lower, so low that Virgil could feel his breath against his neck. It was a vulnerable section of skin for someone’s mouth to be hovering over and he was half afraid that the knight would take the advantage to sink his teeth into his jugular. Of course it wasn’t a human move, but it didn’t stop Virgil from worrying about it. He even tried to writhe away to the best of his ability but was stuck in place by the third’s heavy grasp. “The King ain’t gonna be happy with you,”‌ he snarled, “I‌ like to think that your coven got off easy.”

The thought that being burned alive in your own home was getting off easy, made Virgil feel so unbelievably sick that he felt bile rising.

There was no way that Darien and Remus had gotten off easy. Buried under rubble with heat from all sides, heat that you couldn’t escape, that you choked on and eventually made your suffering so unbearable—

Virgil coughed, blood painting his lips. He squeezed his eyes shut, feeling heat prickling the back of his eyes. The water threatened to spill, but he fought back the urge. The knights already had enough reason to mock him; he didn’t want crying in front of them to be another.

The first knight grinned wider. He pushed himself away from the curled up form on the ground and circled around to the other side of him. He grabbed Virgil under the shoulder where the arrow was still implanted into it, before seemingly like he had a better idea. “Hold the witch down,”‌ he said to the other two. “Roll it over onto its back.”

As he was pushed onto his back, Virgil’s eyes snapped back open, blurred as they were, and they locked on the first knight. They widened as he noticed the knight’s hand wrapping around the shaft of the arrow.

He’s going to pull it out. It’s going to get ripped out without care or precision.

Doing that, could ruin his shoulder for life. There was only so much healing magic could do when you weren’t skilled enough in the practice. The fact that the arrow itself was going to be ripped out the opposite way it had been shot in made his stomach churn.

“N-no!”‌ Virgil had finally found his voice, but the demand came out weaker than he had anticipated it. The three men above him didn’t seem to care about his protest as the arrow was grabbed half a moment later. “W-wait, please! Don’t— don’t do this!‌ I’ll go back willingly…ju-just leave the arrow alone!”

“So, it talks,”‌ The second knight snarked, his hands tightening on his good shoulder. Virgil’s eyes frantically searched the features above him, the world beginning to darken in his terror. “It’ll only hurt for a few days.”

“Don’t worry though,” the knight said, giving an experimental tug on the arrow shaft, watching Virgil’s pained expressions carefully. “I’m sure you won’t live that long anyhow. So, perhaps, it’ll only hurt for the rest of your miserable life.”

Virgil tried to prepare himself for the feeling of something being torn out of his body, but nothing could have prepared him for the excruciating feeling that rippled through his entirety.

The arrow head had been so far embedded into his shoulder that it had nearly been poking out the other side. It had torn through layers of skin and had caused the wound to enlarge. More blood spilled from the gash and Virgil almost felt numb. So much agony was flushing through his body that he could hardly put two and two together.

He choked on his breathing, blood made another reappearance as he coughed, gagging at the unbelievable amount of torment.

It only made the knights howl with laughter, looking down at the witch. He wasn’t a big kid, in fact Virgil was actually remarkably small for someone his age. His short stature only made it easier for the knights to keep him trapped.

Virgil gasped, trying to find a way to steady himself enough to process just what exactly was happening to him.

Die.

The word was so sudden and startling that he almost couldn’t fathom the meaning of it.

You are going to die.

Everything that had happened in his life was going to be rendered meaningless. As if he had never done anything at all. There was no one left to remember him.

They’re going to kill you right here, right now so the King will reward them as heroes.

He squeezed his eyes shut, tears finally spilling over. He choked on a sob and shook his head, trying to get them off. Trying to get them to let him go. Trying to do something that could possibly save his life. Anything.

You’re going to die and there is nothing you can do about it.

His mind was alive and buzzing, but numb and everything was confusing and he couldn’t see straight, he could hardly breathe. There was so much assault happening to him that his senses couldn’t comprehend everything. From the sharp, stinging pain in his shoulder that was going to kill him if he didn’t get it treated to the electric buzzing going on inside his head from the constant movement and chatter, or even when it came to noticing the quaking in the ground that hadn’t been there before.

Wait.‌‌ What the holy hell was that?

“I didn’t think witches understood human emotions,” the first knight said, snapping the arrow between his two hands and tossing it to the side idly.

He seemed to be the only knight that hadn’t honed in on the difference in the air around them. The way the ground kept shaking in a steady and oddly familiar pattern. It was timed and paced, but shook with a passion. It felt like…like… oh.

Oh no.

No, no no no!

Virgil was too scared to open his eyes, knowing that his consciousness was just barely holding on. It was only a matter of time before it was over for all of them. Seeing through the blood loss and tears wouldn’t help either, but he knew what was coming. He knew that it was way worse than what the knights had in store for him.

“L-let me go!” He grit out, almost trying harder but with his strength failing him, he sounded pathetic.

“Now, why would we do something like that?” The knight crooned. “We caught you and now we’re going to fulfill our duty to the King.”

“No!”‌ Virgil’s voice verged on shrill. “You— you don’t get it!”

The footsteps were getting closer, more prominent. The earth shook with every footfall and the force rattled through him as he was laying flat on the ground.

It was then that the knight seemed to realize what was happening. The first knight was turning to see something he did not want to see.

“What?” The knight barked in surprise, immediately on his feet with his sword drawn. The other two followed suit leaving Virgil on his back, heaving with gasps and anguish.

Just as the knight had gotten the word out, the darkness slid over them, casting the four humans into its shadow.

Virgil knew that it wasn’t a cloud blocking the sun; it was something far worse.‌ Far more dangerous.‌ Something that made him want to be dragged away by the knights and thrown in front of the king. He’d rather that then suffer a death at the hands of a giant.

“Now isn’t this quite the sight,”‌ the rumbling voice from overhead made Virgil flinch further into himself, keeping his eyes screwed shut. He had already memorized the faces of his other tormentors, he didn’t need to see this one too. “The King’s men, supposedly meant to protect the citizens of the Kingdom, attacking one of their own.”

“A‌ witch!”‌ The knight barked, his hold on his sword wavering, terror eating away at his insides. It was obvious how frightened he was, but the stubbornness within him refused to let it show. “It is no member of our society!”

Roman scoffed, his eyes locked on the quivering little form on the ground. “I don’t want to assume, but I‌ would believe the witch would prefer to be addressed as a he not an it.”

The knight threatened to take a step towards the witch again, but Roman moved forward more, to match in confidence and challenge the knight. Giving more of a protective loom over the group of three knights.

“Witch or not, he is still a person,” The giant said, a growl just under the tone of his voice. “Or is that too hard for your bitty human brains to understand?”

The second knight reeled back from that, looking white in the face. His terror was clear to read. The third knight was harder, but the quivering of the blade showed real fear. The knight that was still talking back just seemed to be an idiot.

The first knight met the giant’s eyes, fearless and stupid. “I suppose that means monsters stick together.”

A sharper look filled Roman’s eyes, almost immediately the aura darkened, and he leaned down so much so that they were nearly at eye-level. He hovered just over them to assert his dominance in the situation. To further assert himself, he planted his hands on both sides of the group of knights—even though he was carefully aware of where the little witch was cowering, sobbing, bleeding out and shit I‌ have to deal with these fools quick.

So, he focused all of that irritation and frustration into staring, unwavering, at the knights in front of him. Their swords were nothing compared to him. Humans were absolutely nothing compared to him. “Keep using language like that and I will scrape you across the forest floor like old gum.”

Finally, that got the reaction he had been wanting. He wanted fear, and he wanted them to regret stepping into his part of the woods and torturing an innocent person—witch or not—as if they could get away with it. As unbelievably angry as he was, he knew that he would have to treat the little human and his injuries.

“I’m going to give you a single chance to leave without getting hurt,” he said, voice dangerously low. ‌A menacing snarl that reverberated through his chest and rumbled around them like a thunderstorm waiting to happen. “Get out of here. Now.”

The two other knights had no problem sticking their swords into their sheathes and bolting in the same way they came, their armour clanging together as they escaped. The first knight held his ground, but when chocolate brown eyes stayed locked on him, unrelenting and cold and unsympathetic, the knight felt his heart jump into his throat for the first time. He took an unsteady breath and his resolve shattered when he watched Roman bare his teeth in a sneer at him.

It took nothing for him to scamper off in the same direction as his colleagues.

Now, with the threats gone, he could pay some attention to the witch that was still bleeding out on the ground.

His hands moved from their defensive position, that he had been using to keep himself upright, to one that was encompassing the little human. Curled around the tiny shivering form as if to protect him and ward off any further predators that intended to harm.

“Hey,” his voice was softer, as quiet as he could get it to be without causing more alarm. Perhaps after everything though, Roman would still be registered as a threat because of what the witch had just witnessed. He watched the tiny form flinch away from the sound, one hand moving to cover the gaping wound on his shoulder. “This might not sound all that…reassuring, but you don’t have to be afraid of me.”

The witch gave the tiniest shake of his head in a clear and obvious distrusting “no,” but his eyes remained screwed shut. The human’s hands were smeared in his own blood, the ripped white shirt he was wearing had been stained crimson with the thick liquid.

Biting into his lower lip, Roman let his gaze flicker. The creature was obviously in a great amount of pain and he seemed to be losing consciousness. “I‌ know you have no reason to trust me, but would it help if you knew my name?” Without an answer, he was sure the human was starting to doze but he needed him awake. So, talking to him was the only rational thing that came to mind. “My name’s Roman. I know this is an odd way to meet someone, but it makes for an interesting origin story, don’t you think?”

The witch groaned up at him and for a moment, he thought they were actually communicating, only to be let down—unsurprisingly—when the human didn’t react anymore than that.

While he wanted to get him patched up as soon as possible without moving him, as that could agitate the wound further (or so Logan said), Roman needed to get the human back to his home. There, he had medicines and remedies that would help begin the healing process. And, if the knights were right and the human was a witch, he should know some healing spells himself, too.

Quickly making up his mind, knowing that he couldn’t leave the half-conscious human here by himself to go and retrieve medical supplies, he began to close his hands around the tiny form before pausing. The human hadn’t even looked at him once and Roman didn’t want to startle him by just suddenly grabbing him and hefting him high into the air.

“I’m gonna have to move you, alright?‌ That way I‌ can take you back to my place and my friend and I‌ can get you all fixed up,”‌ Roman chattered at him quietly, explaining his plan while also asking for permission. “That way you’ll be right as rain in a couple days. Will you let me do that?”

The witch made a small noise and Roman was ready to roll with that, when instead it opened its mouth. He held his breath, wanting to make sure he didn’t miss anything important.

“…nuh.”

It sounded like a no but even knowing that the creature didn’t want to be moved, Roman couldn’t just leave it here to die. At least, not in good conscience.

His shoulders drooped and he couldn’t do it. “Sorry little buddy,” he said quietly, the apology doubled as a warning.

It seemed the witch understood that much as the eyes fluttered open lazily. The brown eyes were glazed over, that much was obvious to tell. The little one was watching but Roman didn’t think he was actually seeing. Or if he was even able to connect what was happening right now to reality. The little thing had to be inches away from death and, if worse came to worse and Roman couldn’t save him, at least the human would be in safe company when he passed.

Refusing to let that thought rule his motivations, he carefully scooped his palms underneath the tiny being, incredibly savvy to how he cried out with such a heartbreaking noise. The little one was absolutely petrified.

Heart crawling up into his throat, Roman cupped the human between his two hands and lifted the little one off of the ground and out of its puddle of blood, into the cupped bowl of his palms.

The human groaned in agony and Roman was quick to coo to him, making small comforting noises in the back of his throat. Trying to make the awful situation better as he rose to his feet. “Shh, shh. I know, little one, I‌ know,” he soothed, “I know it hurts but I’m going to get you back home and I’m going to get you all patched up. I’m not gonna hurt you, you’ll be okay.”‌

He felt so horribly guilty that he hadn’t heard the commotion earlier. He knew it wasn’t right to blame himself for this, but he couldn’t help it. Not with how the witch was trying to focus on him, only to let his eyes slip closed.

It looked as though he was ready to accept his fate.

Roman couldn’t let him do that—not without at least trying first.

“You’re okay,”‌ he hushed the tiny human, “no one’s gonna hurt you again. You’re safe with me, I‌ swear it.”‌

Roman looked up briefly to make sure he was heading in the direction that would lead him home, before focusing back down on the form in his hands.

“I’ll take real good care of you.” His voice was nearly a whisper, a silent vow as the human began to drift off into full unconsciousness. “I‌ promise.”

[littlemisssquiggles]

RWBY Musings #70:  The Boy in the Lonely Tower. Imagine if…Salem captures Oscar and imprisons him inside a tower similar to hers from the Lost Fable?

This is actually going to be a very short musing because I wanted it to be a quick follow up to this musing post I shared earlier today. In this last musing, I proposed the concept of a potential Dark Domain Arc in RWBY. Now this isn’t the usual one I talked about before involving Oscar and Ruby surviving Salem’s Domain together while separated from their friends and teammates. This is an alternate version of that arc concept in which only Oscar is taken prisoner by Salem after surrendering himself over to her as a means of saving his comrades who were outnumbered and overpowered by Salem’s forces during the Battle for Atlas. For the full details on that theory of mine, I encourage you to check out the original musing post.

Anyways, in sharing this theory I missed something. Often in my theories, I have a habit of making parallels. Whether its parallels to RWBY and other series (such as Steven Universe and Kingdom Hearts) or in-canon moments and characters, I really like it when RWBY introduces elements that could easily be tied back to things they already did in the past. I think that’s always a nice way for a story to highlight that even the smallest of details that often get overlooked in a plot can tie into something else that happens later in the narrative.

That being said, in sharing my theory about Oscar becoming a prisoner of Salem, I didn’t realize the opportunity for the perfect potential parallel between the RoseGarden and Fairy Tale pairings.

As you guys may recall, in the original Fairy Tale story, Salem was once the beautiful maiden who was locked away in a tower by her cruel father for reasons unknown until she was eventually found and saved by the valiant hero, Ozma who freed her from her imprisonment. After that, the two fell deeply in love and the rest of their love story is history.

In another RoseGarden-themed musing post I shared before, I made a point about there being similarities between Salem and Oscar while at the same time indicating to similarities between Ruby Rose and Ozma. Both Ruby and Ozma possess righteous hearts that condemned them to become heroes and fight for the honour of protecting the people.

Picture …Oscar locked away inside a single room within an unexplored sector of Salem’s Domain inside her fortress in the Land of Darkness. A single room heavily guarded by Grimm and sealed off by dark magic which can only be broken by Salem or a power closer to hers (keep that point in mind by the way).

If Oscar becomes the boy trapped in the lonely tower then Ruby will become the valiant champion destined to free him from his enchanted imprisonment. I’m also picturing Salem stripping Oscar of his previous huntsmen attire and dressing him in robes more akin to what Diggs (well technically Ozma) wore during their reign as rulers of New Remnant. The more I think about this theory, the more I’m falling in love with this idea and the potential standalone arc it’s attached to.

Remember that image of Salem staring out her tower from the Lost Fable?

 Picture… a similar moment with a captive Oscar Pine, dressed in robes of pine green and oscar gold (Ozma’s colours ironically even though they’re also the colours in Oscar’s full name) staring forlornly out the window of his tower within the Dark Domain waiting for a freedom he wasn’t sure was going to come anymore and waiting for a hero---or beautiful silver-eyed heroine that he wasn’t sure existed anymore given the notion that for my theory, I had Oscar be taken prisoner following the destruction of Atlas leaving on a miserable note of him witnessing the kingdom fall from the skies with his friends possibly trapped within its walls.

I like the idea of Oscar being taken prisoner without knowing whether his friends survived the kingdom fall or not. Less hope for him to cling to and more ammunition for Salem and her minions to torture him with when they unceremoniously come to visit him during his incarceration. Picture this:

RWBY Squiggle Script #009: The Visitor 

Salem visits Oscar inside the tower for the first time since his imprisonment. At this point, it had been two weeks since Oscar was brought to the Dark Domain. Two weeks since the Fall of Atlas. Since he saw his friends possibly perish in the kingdom fall. Not that Oscar could tell anyways. Every day in the Dark Domain looked like night fall to the point that Oscar was slowly beginning to forget his memories of the sun since darkness is all he’s seen that day.

At this point, Oscar had been made to think of his lonely tower as his new home and had gotten used to a routine. He would be fed one meal a day and it was usually at nightfall---well what Oscar could assume was nightfall. He could never be sure. His meal would usually be fed to him through a small latch on the door to his room where someone would always push in his plate for him. Like an animal being kept at a zoo.

But on this particular night, things was different. Different because Salem appeared to Oscar, interrupting the dinner her had refused to eat again until he got too hungry of starving himself out of spite. At this point after spending a total of fourteen darkest days and nights trapped in a tower with barely any food and with the deaths of his friends still fresh on his psyche, one could already begin to fathom that Oscar was more than a little peeved to see the Wicked Witch appear to him in person.

Salem: Hello Ozpin. Oh right, I forgot. You don’t go by Ozpin anymore, do you? What are you called now?

Oscar: *bitter and angry* Oscar.

Salem: *dryly* Hmn. Oscar. Ozpin…Ozma. I liked your name better when it was still Ozma. Made it a lot easier when it was just one of you. Just Ozma. My Ozma before the Gods got to him. Turned him against me. After a while I just got tired of having to learn all of your other names. Not like they mattered.

Oscar: *angrily* What do you want?

Salem: *dryly* I thought I’d come visit. You are, after all, a guest in my home. I just wanted to make sure you were feeling comfortable during your long stay.

Salem then cracked a smile but her attempts at uncharacteristic small talk only served to upset Oscar further. Once more, after spending 14 days alone trapped in a room in a dark world far from the friends he knew could possibly be dead all thanks to the woman standing before him, Oscar wasn’t having any of Salem’s nonsense. And so the farm boy snapped.

Oscar: Why don’t you just kill me already? That’s why you’re here, right? You’re not fooling me so why don’t you do us both a favour and spare me your bull-crap!  

Salem: My, my, my and here I thought you were such a well-mannered young man.

She then chuckles lightly before snapping her fingers. The next thing Oscar knew, he’s suddenly forced to his knees by some unknown crushing pressure that rendered him immobile. Try as he may, he couldn’t move. It was as if he had lost complete control of his own body but not in a way he was familiar with. This wasn’t Ozpin assuming control. This was the work of Salem’s dark magic.

Salem: Why must you always pick the feisty ones, Ozma?

Salem snapped his fingers again and this time, Oscar finds himself slammed against the wall behind him. Pain sears through Oscar’s back and he couldn’t help but cry out as Salem suspends his body in front of her. She then pressed one pale, bony finger to Oscar’s right cheek. Her long blackened nails digging into his skin so deeply, it left a thin line of blood in its trail down Oscar’s face.

Salem: Trust me boy. As much as I would love to end your pathetic excuse for a life right here and now, I’m afraid killing you as is wouldn’t grant me the satisfaction I crave. You’d just come back. That’s the problem. You always come back no matter how many times I try to snuff you out. What I plan on doing to you will make death seem like mercy. And my intention is to make you suffer for every bit of pain you and those Gods caused me.

Oscar: *bitterly* Pain caused to you?! You brought this on yourself! I saw your past. What you did to Remnant! You used people. You used Ozma! You’re selfish!

Salem: And you’re a coward. Doesn’t matter how many lives you’ve lived or how many faces you’ve worn. You can play brave all you want, your arrogance isn’t going to help you this time. In the end you’ll just die like the rest of them. Alone, afraid and a bitter disappointment to those foolish enough to follow you. After all…

Salem gets close enough to whisper in Oscar’s ear.

Salem: …You couldn’t even save that poor Silver Eyed Girl. Such a pity.

Once again, Salem’s words only served to provoke Oscar even further. Oscar tries to lash out at Salem---to break free of her hold but her dark magic proves too strong. Every movement the former farm boy made only prolonged his torture which resulted in more amusement for Salem who couldn’t help but sneer at his futile efforts.

Salem: Aww. Hit a nerve, did I?

This caused Oscar to hiss again but his bravado ultimately crumbled to depressed tears at the thought of all the friends he lost back in Atlas, including Ruby. Especially Ruby. His sadness amused Salem further as she finally released him, dropping his pained form to the ground. 

With that, the Wicked Witch then slithered out of the room in silence, sealing it back shut with her magic and leaving a crying Oscar to nothing but his grief and his anguished tears. Alone again in the dark.  

And scene.

Once again, the more I think about this theory, the more I’m starting to really, really love it.

Another reason why I love this concept is because it can also present a chance for Oscar to awaken and master his magical potential. Imagine…Oscar becoming a prisoner of Salem forcing him to get in touch with his Wizard side, tapping into a power that only he as a reincarnation of Ozma and Wizard of Light can do. Perhaps this forced captivity will be what brings Oscar and Ozpin together as the two reconcile inside Oscar’s mind before Oz starts guiding Oscar on how to hone his magical skills.

Remember my earlier point about Salem locking Oscar in a room that can only be unlocked either by Salem or a power similar to hers?

Well what power does Salem possess? Magic. And who else can use magic besides Salem? Surely if Ozpin and all the other past Wizards inherited Ozma’s magical capability then so did Oscar.

Picture…Oscar using his time in captivity to train himself in using his magic, honing his control over it until he’s finally able to use it to break himself out of the lonely tower.

Don’t get me wrong. I still want Ruby to be the Ozma in Oscar’s version of the Lost Fable fighting her way through the Land of Darkness to come to his rescue.

However I also love the idea of Oscar learning to master control of his magic so that when the time comes for him to break down the door to his freedom, he’ll have to power to do so. And to his luck and pleasant surprise, waiting on the other side of the door is his beloved red rose who, along with their friends, survived the fall of the sky kingdom and braved Grimm infested lands just to be reunited with him again.

Pineheads. Rosegardeners. How does this sound for a potential arc? I would love it if something like this happens in the canon. But for now, as you know. It’s only a theory. Enjoy it while it’s still fresh.

More Squiggles’ RWBY Content

 ~LittleMissSquiggles (2019)

[scripttorture]

(1/) One of my characters has been in captivity for around 4 years. He's been fed properly, allowed sleep whenever he needs it, and has a moderately large cell for him to move around in. For the first 3 years or so of his confinement he would spend 6 or so hours of every day in tests and experiments (he was awake for some, tranquilized for some, and straight unconscious for some). After those 3 years they were finished with all possible tests they could do on him and so he has essentially been

(myconnection died when I hit send on part 2 of my ask so I am reallynot sure if you got it or not, if you did please ignore this, andI've lost my place in my thinking so I'm sorry if this is messy ordoesn't make sense anymore) (2/) after the 3 years of the tests andexperiments, they're done, so they essentially just leave him insolitary confinement. His mental state of course just depletes evenfurther. He physically harms himself [managing to keep it from hiscaptors who have just left(3/If you received the origional number 2 you can ignore this too) lefthim to rot in his cell (which is mid size, not particularly damp, notrat infested, but bare with only a toilet). He continues to be fedproperly and allowed to sleep whenever he needs it but he startsphysically harming himself. [I'm sorry this ask series is quicklybecoming messy, I can't remember what I have already told you]. Afterhis second suicide attempt they decide to bring him a playmate: agirl a few years(4/or 3/ if you received the origional 2). years younger than he is at17. They don't perform any tests on her, she's really just there assomething for him to latch onto. I want them to become close and veryprotective of each other, but how would this sudden introductionaffect him? I imagine he would be skittish and wary, with almost nosocial skills given the length of time and his age, but I'm not surewhich direction to go. Thank you for your patience with my mess!

Noneed to apologise tumblr can be a mess. :)

Oneof the things that’s standing out for me here is the potential todownplay how difficult this would be for both characters. Thatdoesn’tmean they can’t have a positive relationship or be protective ofeach other. And I completely understand how it feels writing twocharacters that you really want to get along.

ButI think given the severity of the situation it’s important toinclude problems and set backs as their relationship develops.

He’sbeen treated abominably and has some very severe problems as aresult. He’s also just had a massivechange introduced to his environment with no warning. She’s beendropped into this, is probably very scared and probably doesn’thave a deep understanding of his health problems. On top of thatshe’s being expected to somehow ‘fix’ him by people she’s nowdependant on for her survival.

They’reboth under a huge amount of stress and pressure when this starts. Andthey’re both traumatised.

Trynot to give in to the temptation to make it easy. Give them the spaceand time to have the relationship develop properly, hiccups and all.

I’vefound sometimes having an end goal in mind for the relationship canhelp writing bits where the characters are struggling with eachother.

There’sa romantic relationship I’ve been writing recently, thesecharacters have known each other for years and had crushes on eachother for about as long. But when they finally start a romanticrelationship it is, despite their best intentions, disastrous.

Oneof the character’s is from a minority ethnic group in the countryand she’s also just had a massive loss in her life. The othercharacter doesn’t realise just how big this loss was, in part bynot understanding the full cultural importance of that relationship.This situation, the first character’s understandable emotionaldifficulties at the time and the second character’s lack ofknowledge about her culture, all form a pretty negative atmospherethat nearly kills their friendly relationship completely.

Andit’s hard writing that, showing things going so badly when you wantor need them to go well.

Butoften in fiction these conflicts are an opportunity to give thecharacters a deeper understanding of each other. They’re anessential part of the process of building a really solidrelationship. Without the arguments and drama those culturalmisunderstandings caused my characters would have carried on with avery shallow view of each other. And that shallow view would haveultimately doomed their relationship.

Withyour story I think one of the key things is to appreciate howdifficult a situation the girl is in.

Theboy has been tortured and from everything you’ve said I think youappreciate how much he’s suffering. But she’s been suddenlydropped into a situation where she’s expected to ‘fix’ all ofthat. Which is a hugely unrealistic expectation to put on anyone.

Theaverage psychologist would struggle in this situation. I think mostpsychologists with considerable experience working with traumasurvivors would struggle. So an untrained teenager in the sameposition- is going to have considerable problems.

Ithink I have… above average experience with mental illness andpeople in distress, considering that I’m a lay-person rather than aprofessional. And some of that experience was gained as a teenager oryounger. But I know I couldn’t ‘cope’ well at that age in thatsituation.

Abig part of this relationship developing is going to be… showinghow tough mental illness can be to deal with without assigning blameto the character for his mental illness.

Dependingon the symptoms you’ve picked out for him he could be incrediblyaggressive, unresponsive, spend hours talking about how awful hefeels/how he wants to die and so forth. That’s hard for the personon the other end.

It’seven harder when she has no way of taking time to herself to unwindand care for herself.  There’s no where for her to retreat when,for instance, talking about suicide becomes too upsetting.

Noneof which is the boy’s fault. But I can very easily see how adistressed child could blame him for his symptoms causing her evenmore distress. And I can see how he’d struggle to comfort herbecause he’s not really learnt how to.

Honestand open communication is part of the answer. That will allow each ofthem to learn what helps and what distresses the other person. But itwill take time and they’ll both still make mistakes. One of thecommon ones I’ve found is assuming that because something helpsyou/someone else you knew with this condition it ‘should’ helpthis different person now. That isn’t always the case.

Therewill probably be moments when one of them feels awful and the otherone just doesn’t feel like they’ve got the energy to ‘deal withit’. But they’re trapped in the same room and don’t have achoice.

Sharedantagonism towards their captors will probably help somewhat. It’sa small piece of common ground.

They’llalso need to learn how to give each other emotional ‘space’ inthis cramped environment. They’ll need to learn to be patient witheach other.

Andwhile the boy will almost certainly have worse symptoms (and the girlwas introduced to help him) I think it’s important to show that heis going to have to help her deal with her trauma sometimes as well.

Todo this sort of relationship justice you need to make sure it has thenarrative time and space to progress.

Ifind that having a plan of attack can help with that. For me thatusually means having a clear idea of how their relationship starts,what I want the end point to be and a couple of key moments inbetween where the relationship shifts.

Someof those might be big blow up arguments that help lead the charactersto more open and honest communication. Some might be quieter momentsof comfort. I’ve found the content and action matters less than theemotional resolution and understanding. Lots of little shifts inperception and understanding gradually getting the characters to thestate you’d like them to be in.

Thesudden introduction is likely to affect both characters negatively.But that doesn’t really have to do with the other person, it’sabout the lack of control they have over their lives and theirenvironment.

Itwould set off the boy’s mental health problems and emphasisefeelings of helplessness they’ll both be experiencing. But that issomething they can get past. It’s a temporary dip caused bydisruption. And any change in routine for someone who is severelymentally ill can cause a dip or low period.

Theexact responses would depend on the individual and exactly whatsymptoms you’ve picked out for them. In broad terms though most ofhis mental illnesses would get briefly worse, there’s likely to bean especially noticeable jump in symptoms related to anxiety,depression and aggression.

Idon’tknow if self harm would increase as a result. It would depend partlyon what’s driving self harm in this character particularly.Essentially this sort of sudden change makes people extremelystressed and when you have a mental illness that tends to manifest inunhealthy ways with an increase in symptoms.

Thisin itself may provide a first moment of understanding in theirrelationship; the realisation that the other person isn’t at faulteven if they’re ‘difficult’ or distressing. The situation isbeyond the control of both victims but they may initially assignblame for it to each other. Reaching an emotional point where theycan accept that isn’t the case is going to be a necessary step. Andhaving it early on may help you set a more positive, healing tone forthe rest of the relationship.

I’dalso suggest including moments which show the characters they canrely on each other for help and support. It would probably take theboy a long time to really appreciate that and have it sink in.Difficulty trusting others would be normal in a child as traumatisedas he is.

Thevillains could be used to help cement that idea by providingsomething they’re both opposed to and working against.

OverallI think you’re approaching this in a good way and I think whatyou’ve got in mind is possible. It’s about structuring and pacingthe narrative to show the emotional work and relationshipdevelopment. There’s a lot to fit in when you’re planning totackle something this complicated. And that’s OK. But it can comewith pacing difficulties; the progress of the relationship stillneeds to be something readers are looking forward to.

It’sa difficult balancing act, including all these elements in a story. Ithink getting some beta readers or joining a writing group could helpyou a lot. Because sometimes it’s difficult to judge if you’vehit the right emotional tone consistently. Readers help with that.

Ithink you’ll also find a lot of good information related to thecharacters’ age groups on @scripttraumasurvivors blog. Almosteverything I’ve just talked about applies to adults as much aschildren. I have much less knowledge about child development andsymptoms or behaviours specific to children thanScriptTraumaSurvivors. Going through their tags on child abuse willhelp you make both character’s responses more age-appropriate.

Ihope that helps. :)

Disclaimer

[marvelhead17]

Miracle (Original Female Character x Cable)

Chapter 32

Summary: “How did you fix it?” he asked. “Ask Ellen the Teenage Warhead,” Wade shrugged as he stood up, “As for baby Hitler he ended up having a diaper change, funny story I was actually going to call Cable since he was so keen on killing Russel, I thought this would be like taking candy from a baby, if that means replacing it with a bullet that is,”

Warnings to cover the whole fic: Graphic depictions of violence, use of weapons, mild to strong language, mentions of rape, mentions of pregnancy and miscarriage, referenced torture and psychological abuse/manipulation, nightmares and night terrors, sexual humour, sexual content.

Word count:  1.7k

The other Hayden grabbed Nathan into a chokehold in his frozen state and pulled something from her pocket, she pressed a button before placing the small device on his chest, something akin to fire started burning in his heart and then shockwaves escaped and rushed through his whole body.

“That’s right Nathan, just relax into it, you’ll be gone soon,” she whispered to him, he writhed uncomfortably and gasped remembering he was being gripped around his neck. “I know all about your little virus, I’m encouraging it to grow and take over you, so you can suffer for a while… until I finally end you,” she said with a smile, he screamed as the fire was beginning to sear every muscle and nerve inside of him, his vision becoming unfocused and strained.

  Hayden feebly moved herself onto her knees before forcing herself off the ground, despite the pain throbbing from her torso she moved forward, every uneasy step taking her closer to Nathan and the other version of herself.

She inched close enough to latch her fingers into the clone’s hair and wrenched her head back causing the other Hayden to lose her grip on Nathan, she immediately threw her across the yard, her breathing was jagged and she turned her attention to him. He stood, although unsteadily, and Hayden removed the small device and crushed it in her hand, he touched her face and looked over her with worry.

Hayden turned away from him, gripping at her wound and slowly walked towards the other Hayden; she was slowly getting herself off from the ground.

“I guarantee you, that I had a much worse upbringing, than you did, and I have a lot more motivation, in keeping this man alive, than you do for killing him,” each pause she was gasping and struggling for breath, her blood soaking her clothing and dripping to the floor.

“Really, and what would that be?” the other asked, standing upright with a hard expression forming on her features.

“Love,” she said breathlessly.

                    Nathan couldn’t believe his ears, love?

His jaw slackened as he stared at Hayden, he couldn’t feel his feet in the moment, whether it was from the virus that was trying to attack him or from the unexpected revelation that had shocked him stiff, he didn’t know.

Hayden’s small form began to glow blindingly as her muscles began to increase in their size; somewhat significantly as they were half as large as Colossus’s muscles, she raised her closed fist in the air before throwing the blow directly into the clone’s face.

She staggered back from the force thrown at her, her nose clearly broken and blood flooding down to her mouth, looking altogether like a horror scene. Her response to the attack was to increase her muscles as well before she kicked Hayden hard in her still open wound. The force of the impact was so great that Hayden flew back to their original position near the portal, it flickered as she landed, her form shrinking back to her original size.

“I don’t care if I have to kill you to get to him, even if that means I’ll die in the process,” the clone threatened as she stepped forward towards Hayden, she struggled to get herself up and the other one watched her carefully allowing herself to shrink down as well, Hayden glanced back to the portal and noticed it was almost half the size it originally was when it had opened earlier.

  “Unfortunately for you, we both know I’m relentless in what I want to accomplish, so you know you’re going to have to kill me, and it’s safe for me to say you don’t have much time left,” she nodded to the portal, “The choice is yours,”

The clone pulled out her knife once again and moved forward.

  “I’m so sorry Nathan,” Hayden swung her head around to give him one final look and he stared back into her ocean blue eyes that were about to overflow with tears, she then returned her attention to the other Hayden and ran forward, her arms spread out to tackle her.

Both figures were forced back through the shaky portal and it sputtered before closing into a miniature flash and disappearing entirely from existence.

Nathan darted forward and grasped at the grass where the portal had just been, searching for something, anything that could help him in opening it again.

   This must be some kind of nightmare, this isn’t real; this can’t be real.

                                He felt his heart drop in his chest, there was no way he could get her back, no matter how many times he could go back in time the same events would occur again and again; her clone would still come back, Hayden would still protect him, he would still lose her. Unless… unless he managed to sacrifice himself saving her, or maybe he killed himself to ensure she doesn’t try to protect him that time around…

  “Daddy, Daddy!” a familiar voice kicked him back to reality, he shook his head and saw Hope running towards him, her eyes red from crying and she looked anxious. “Daddy, is Hayden going to come back?” she sat on her knees next to him and looked up at him.

“No… Hope, no, she’s gone,” he gently wrapped his arms around her and then held her tightly clenching the material of her clothing, allowing his tears to finally fall from his eyes, “She’s gone, she’s not coming back,” he repeated more for himself to understand than for Hope, she tightened her arms around his neck and sniffled deeply.

“W-why?”

“I- she, she wanted to protect us, to protect you, to protect me,” he gave her a squeeze, his mind finally processing what she had said earlier, ‘love’.

That was the first time she had said anything about love, to him anyway, she had always reminded Hope that she was loved by either Nathan or her.

  She sacrificed herself to save us, because she loved us and wanted to protect us.

  Nathan felt himself shattering into pieces, his breathing became uneasy as his heart made him cry his emotions out, not only was he confronting the death of a loved one all over again, but he hadn’t been able to tell her that he loved her back.

“It’ll be okay Hope,” he managed to say, realising that Hope was distraught, crying heavily into his chest and clinging onto his shirt now. “It’ll be okay sweetheart,” he cooed into her ear, he shuffled so that he could pick her up in his arms.

He carried her inside the building, the others standing in silence, all downhearted by the events that had just happened.

“I’m deeply sorry Cable,” Colossus rubbed Nathan’s shoulder gently, Wade was clinging to Colossus’s shirt and appeared to be a weeping wreck; he simply nodded and walked upstairs holding Hope tightly to him.

  He reached his room and sat on the bed, Hope sat on his lap, and she wiped away the tears in her eyes and stared ahead at nothing. He tilted her chin and gave her a small smile, his eyes burning; he gave her a gentle stroke with his finger before placing a kiss on top of her head.

“That’s my big strong girl, we can get through this, together,” he gave her a final squeeze before moving her to lie back on the bed, pulling the covers over her. “Now rest up, it’s been a very long day sweetheart,” she only nodded tiredly and he kissed her forehead before brushing his thumb over her face, her eyes closed as she fell asleep from his touch.

  I have to be strong, for her.

  He closed the door quietly and went over to Hayden’s room, just opening the door made his heart drop, once he entered he saw the familiar items he started to feel himself shake, he sat on the bed and rolled onto his back. Her smell on everything was overwhelming him, he’d never noticed it until now, but it was always a soft scent that made him feel warm inside, now filling him with sorrow.

He rubbed his face with his hands, he didn’t want to sleep next to Hope in case one of his nightmares ended up disturbing him and causing him to scare her, especially if the one person who could calm him down was now gone; and he had no idea what his mind might torture him with after today’s events. He closed his eyes sighing, hoping sleep would take over soon and wishing he could erase all the memories of her that were now flashing over his vision.

  The way that she smiled, the way her eyes sparkled when he looked into his and how they crinkled around the edges because of her smile, the way she laughed, the way she could easily dismiss Wade’s remarks with something witty, the way she would always gently touch him to calm him down or to show him affection, to show him love…

  Love.

  The word echoed in his head. He would never be able to tell her that he loved her; he wanted to the very next day that they had agreed to start a relationship but he didn’t want to scare her away. He wanted her to trust him by giving her the time she needed, to understand what a real relationship was meant to be like. His hot tears streamed down his face. After a great deal of time his exhaustion kicked in and he passed out.

                                                           * * *

  A static popping noise woke Nathan from his sleep and he sat up fearful from the strange and unfamiliar sound, his panic only further rose when he heard someone gasping and struggling to breathe, his eyes scanned the dark room and his cyborg eye located a figure kneeling on the floor.

He turned on the bedside light and slowly made his way to the figure, his mind still foggy from the crying and from just waking up, when it finally clicked what he was looking at he almost cried again; but this time in relief.

“Jesus Christ, Hayden, I thought you were dead,” he collapsed next to her and squeezed her impossibly tight.

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>> Chapter 33 <<