#ailesswhumptoberday6

[tsubaki94]

6 Mind control/ Forced to hurt someone else

Ai-less Whumptober

[bloodsweatandpotato]

Day 6

Multiple Whumpees

[auroragehenna]

AI-less Whumptober

Day 6 - Surprise Sunday (Multiple whumpees, self sacrifice, “I’m the only one who can do this.”)

TW/CW: Grim dark ending, minor character death, major character death, whumperless whump-kinda, hero(es) vs. villain whump, tired heroes Word count: 641

"Jack, watch out!", Hero screamed but it was too late. A spear out of the same black goo that they were all fighting impaled the other hero right in front of his eyes. He could only watch as Jack coughed, blood coating his lips and then collapse to his feet as the goo retracted from his body. He knew there would be no way to save him, not even with other hero's healing powers. And they had enough on their hands anyways. Their team was already struggling enough and if they themselves didn't focus on the fight happening right this instant they'd be the next to die! So they tore their eyes away from his corpse and blinked away the tears that wanted to build up. No time. Their gaze flickered over the square. Shaped liked an arena and nearly completely surrounded by taller buildings. The exit and pathway into the heart of the city behind them, the entrance in front of them-completely blocked by a wave of controlled black goo. When had Supervillain gotten such strength!? They jumped back as arrows of the substance attempted to nail their body into the marble floor. They slashed the arms down and burned them right after. That killed the substance but it was way too slow. That way they would never win. Exhaustion was already written over all their faces. In a desperate attempt Hero again shot a collum of fire towards the substance, already knowing it wouldn't be enough...And as expected the flames burned for a moment, tearing it apart until they got overpowered and swallowed by the flames.

"It will never work that way! Iz too strong!", Drew yelled over, her accent even stronger now. Her lightning crackling everwhere around her and attacking every drop of goo coming near her. "We have to find a way to kill it or break the connection to whoever iz controlling it!" She jumped back twice and dodged to the side.

Supervillain. They narrrowed their eyes in hatred. How would they have designed this weapon? This lethal weaponry designed for mass murder. Inside! The worst option would be that the only way to destroy it would be from the inside. Or kill Supervillain-which none of them were strong enough to do. I can do it. I have to. "I'm gonna destroy it, protect the city, don't give up.", they yelled to their city as they took off the amulet they always wore. Even in the shower and to bed. They would never take it off unless they were about to die...Like now. They saw the widened eyes of their team, the protests they wanted to say but gulped down. They were all tired and numb. Heroism was never as glorious as they advertised. But they could still make a difference, save the city and their people one last time.

As they walked towards the goo their whole body erupted in blazing flames. It took every last drop of Hero's energy and their nose started to bleed yet they kept walking. Until they could touch the ever moving wave of black goo and then further. Burning themselves a way inside while chocking on it. With their last rasping breath, bloody nose and last energy they let out a blood curling stream and exploded into a flame inferno.

Hero would never know that their sacrifice wasn't enough. They would never find out that their friends died mourning and fighting. That their bodies were mangled and mauled by the goo until they were unrecognizable and there was nothing left anyone wanted to bury. That the city was nearly completeley wiped off the map and the ones glorified, tired heroes who gave their all were hated by the survivors. Maybe it was better that way. For them at least. For the little hero who sarcificed himself for absolutely nothing.

Taglist: @ailesswhumptober, @yourlocalgaefae33, @princessofhe11, @greatkittencloud, @bisexuawolfsalt, @shattermind-8

[lilac-gold]

Mind Control

AI-less Whumptober: Day 6 Conditioning | Mind control | Forced to hurt someone else @ailesswhumptober

Fandom: OMORI Rating: Teen Word Count: 2625 Summary: Under Bossman, Hero is a puppet. He has no say in what his body does, and no way to resist when it starts to hurt his little siblings. AO3 LINK

“Hero, I want you… To take over the Last Resort for me.”

It had begun small, inconspicuous. Everything had been fine, and while Hero had been apprehensive, sure, he was hardly out of his mind with worry. He’d reminded Jawsum of his age, but the businessman was firm in his decision, luggage held tightly in-hand.

“I know you can handle this, Hero,” Jawsum told him, face softening a little as he averted his eyes. Jawsum wasn’t a fan of open affection. “You’re resilient, and smart, and I trust you. I’ve spent way too long at this business, growing my net worth, improving my stocks, but in the end, what’s it worth? This building’s falling apart, and now that I have a successor, I finally realise that I don’t have to stay here anymore. After all, I’m a billionaire!” Jawsum laughed heartily, then something guarded crossed his expression and he beckoned Hero closer. “Just… Stay true to yourself, and you’ll be fine.”

As Hero processed the alligator’s words, Jawsum snapped his fingers, and a Gator handed him a bright red tie. “Your tie, bossman.”

Bossman. Hero wasn’t sure he liked that. It felt too professional, too uptight. That wasn’t him, and the Gators knew that wasn’t him. Hero had befriended plenty of them, and they knew he wouldn’t care about titles like that. Still, he said nothing at the term of address, awkwardly fastening the tie around his neck instead. As he did, a strange feeling of wrongness sweeping through him. It was like he’d been dunked in a pool of ice, a shiver overcoming him as he fidgeted with the tie nervously.

“Lookin’ like a real champ, Hero,” Jawsum offered him a thumbs up. “Don’t tell the others, but you always were my favourite. For what it’s worth… I’m sorry.”

Hero blinked in confusion. “Sorry for wha–”

“It’s vacation time, baby!” Jawsum interrupted hastily, standing atop his desk. “Ol’ Jawsum is gonna have the time of his life!”

Hero noted the absence of a ‘Mr’ before his name. Wow. He really was serious about giving up the business.

Jawsum laughed one final time, then headed to the elevator, almost running towards it. Hero wasn’t quite sure why he was rushing so much, but figured his bo– his former boss must just be excited. Soon enough, it was just he and his kids left in the office.

“Woah!” Kel exclaimed cheerfully. “I can’t believe my big brother is a boss now! Way to go!”

Hero smiled nervously, still not quite sure about this whole ‘boss’ thing. It… Didn’t quite suit him. He was all for helping people out, and there was no denying his enterprising prowess, but being in a position of authority meant having to order people around. That didn’t sit right with him. Besides, Hero always worried about making big decisions, not wanting to upset anyone. As boss, he’d have to make those decisions all the time. Uneasily, he tugged on the tie again, the fabric feeling just a little too tight around his throat.

“Your tie looks great, Hero!” Aubrey beamed, eyes sparkling. “How does it feel?”

“It feels…” Hero shifted uncomfortably, the tie seeming to tighten yet again until it pressed against his windpipe. Again, that cold sensation flooded through him, and he tried to swallow through his dry throat. “Alright… I guess,” he finished hesitantly. That was a lie. It felt wrong.

“Try snapping your fingers!” Aubrey encouraged enthusiastically, and Omori nodded minutely beside her.

“Okay. You mean like–”

Hero was about to oblige, lifting his hand into the air. Then, ice ran through his veins, freezing his arm in place as his words cut themselves off, Hero’s breath escaping him in a visible puff. The tie squeezed his throat, something pressing against his mind that shouldn’t be there, and Hero distantly felt himself fall to his knees.

“Hero!” 

“What’s wrong?!”

Aubrey and Kel’s voices overlapped, shocked and concerned. That was reasonable, really, Hero thought as he wheezed on the ground. His lungs were being choked, his throat clogging with pain and the threat of oncoming tears, and a headache hit him at full force as he clutched at his temples.

“The– the tie–” Hero forced out, then another spike of agony shot through his head and he doubled over further, every limb seeming to tremble. He didn’t know what was happening, terror ploughing through him, destroying every ounce of rational thinking in its path.

Then, suddenly, it all stopped.

Hero felt a slow exhale leave his lips, no longer a concerning smoky white. The cold feeling dimmed a little, but the pressure against his throat and brain vanished, and Hero absently adjusted his tie, not even realising he was doing so at first. He opened his mouth to tell his friends he was okay.

Well. Hero tried to open his mouth, but it remained firmly, frighteningly shut. Then, he tried to stand, to blink, to move, to do anything. His body didn’t respond to a thing, and panic built within him as it piloted himself, standing up and walking behind the desk. 

“Hero?” Aubrey asked uncertainly. “Are you… Okay now?”

“Heh,” a small laugh escaped his throat, unlike any sound Hero had ever made before. It was unfamiliar in his mouth, seeming to belong to someone else entirely as it built and built. “Heh, heh…”

“Umm… Hero?” Aubrey tried again after a second, sounding worried.

“You seem a little too happy there,” Kel sounded unimpressed, but some sort of hidden concern lingered within his tone. Hero knew his brother far too well for Kel to be able to keep secrets from him for long.

“Happy?” His voice said suddenly, loud and clipped. Derisive, even. Hero felt horror swell within him as a too-wide smile split across his face, making his cheeks ache. “Don’t be silly, Kel.”

Hero would have recoiled if he were able to at the pure patronisation dripping from his voice. That wasn’t him, they had to know that. That wasn’t him. Hero didn���t know what was going on, but it was awful.

Then, his eyes widened manically, and the grin somehow widened even further.

“Bosses don’t feel emotion!” He heard himself exclaim, a high giggle rising in the back of his throat. This was not good. This was very not good.

“Oh no!” Hero heard Kel cry out. “Hero’s gone mad with power!”

At that, his body did laugh, that strange, unfamiliar chuckle leaving him yet again. “Not quite, Kel. Not quite.”

Now that he could see his siblings’ faces again, Hero looked over each of them frantically. Kel and Aubrey each exchanged a troubled glance, Omori stood firmly between them with narrowed eyes. Why couldn’t things just go nicely for once? Not a single one of their trips so far had ended up in anything less than disaster. Captain Spaceboy’s alter ego coming out, Sweetheart imprisoning them all in her dungeon, the Slime Girls trying to dissect his little brother… Heck, even their initial employment at the Last Resort had wound up with Jawsum refusing to let Hero go, setting Pluto on him in a fight. Hero should’ve expected this sort of thing by now.

“Hey, I’ve got an idea!” His voice said smoothly, far more confident than Hero ever was usually. He sounded suave, commanding, authoritative. The sort of person Hero himself would usually struggle to argue with. “Now that Hero’s the boss, why don’t you all come work for us? Of course, I won’t offer any pay, but I see a great opportunity for growth in the future.”

Hero’s kids ignored the belittling tone to his voice, determination and suspicion crossing their faces. Aubrey crossed her arms. “What do you mean ‘us’?”

“Heh,” a snigger left his lips. “I’ve been looking around in his brain; Hero sure does think you kids are smart. A sharp little girl, aren’t you, Aubrey? That’s an excellent quality in an employee. I’m sure you’d be very useful to the company– these two, however? I’m not quite so sure, no matter what Hero seems to think. It would probably be easier to just get rid of them.”

Panic flooded through him. He needed to get control back, now. He couldn’t let whatever this… Thing was hurt his kids.

“Hey! I’d make a great employee,” Kel huffed, a defensive look clear as day across his face. “Who are you, anyway?!”

“You can call me Bossman,” Hero’s voice told them, and realisation dawned within him. Oh. So that was what the Gator Guy had meant. A sinking feeling began within him. Did… Did Jawsum want this to happen? “It seems Hero’s finally catching on. He’s a little… Indisposed at the moment, you see,” Bossman kept that grin across his face, tapping his forehead. “But I have no doubt that he’ll be a great tool for the business to progress.”

“You leave him alone!” Aubrey cried out, eyebrows turning downwards sharply in anger.

“That would be rather difficult, Aubrey, considering that we now share a brain,” Bossman told her, voice dripping with condescension. Hero’s heart would have leapt if it still responded to him. No. No, this couldn’t be permanent. “As much as it bothers me to admit it, I’m afraid I need him, just as I used to need Jawsum.”

Nothing happened.

Bossman was under his skin, using his body like a puppet. Hero was forced to move along with him, to dance in whatever way the entity desired him to. The feeling was like nothing he'd ever experienced before, invasive and controlling. Hero was completely helpless to stop Bossman doing whatever he wanted.

“So, Aubrey, Omori, Kel ,” Bossman smirked, snapping his fingers. “What’s it to be? Either you work for me…” Gator Guys flooded the room, standing at attention and ready for any command ‘Hero’ was about to give them. “...Or we do things the hard way.”

“I don’t know about you guys, but I’m always up for a challenge!” Kel turned to his friends, and Hero felt a disconcerting rush of affection, pride and anxiety for his little brother. “Let’s do this!”

Aubrey and Omori nodded either side of him, Aubrey setting her jaw as Omori readied his knife. They needed to leave, Hero couldn’t bear it if he hurt them! He had to fight, to force his way back in possession of his own body, as impossible as it seemed. He didn’t so much as know where to start, but that didn’t stop him from trying.

“Disappointing, but not unexpected,” Bossman sighed, sounding completely unbothered as he snapped his fingers again. “I hope you are prepared for defeat.” More and more workers exited the elevator– how they knew Bossman had called was beyond Hero, but there were more important things on his mind. He felt his lips curve upwards into another cruel smile. “Enjoy the show, Hero.”

And they began to fight. Hero willed his body to stop, wished he was able to wrench back control somehow. But his attempts were fruitless, and each snap of his fingers felt like a death sentence, and the Gators just kept coming. Eventually, all three of his kids looked exhausted, on the brink of becoming toast. Hero was their healer. He was supposed to keep them safe. He couldn’t lose them too.

Despite Hero’s pitiful attempts to resist, his fists swung at the trio, growing bruised and bloodied. He could feel everything, from the ache of his cheeks to the unnatural straightness of his spine. Bossman surveyed the damage with a sort of clinical intrigue. “Ah, it is nice to feel properly again. Jawsum was getting far too old, and he was never much to my taste. I much prefer this body.”

As was inevitable, Aubrey, Kel and Omori were defeated, three pieces of toast falling to the floor. Hero felt hatred and horror swell inside of him like a crashing crescendo, both at himself and Bossman. He’d done that to them. His fingers, his contracts, his fists. His kids were toast, and it was his fault. He should have fought harder.

“Leave, all of you. And throw that toast out. I have no need for useless materials,” Bossman ordered coldly, and even more fear flooded through Hero. Bossman rolled his eyes once all the Gators were gone, observing his nails as he sat down at the desk and pulled a mirror from one drawer. “You are far more soft-hearted than anyone I have inhabited before, Hero,” Bossman said disdainfully. “Not a proper trait of a businessman in the slightest. Oh sure, you have the skill, but I have the confidence. Don’t worry, Hero, I’ll take care of everything,” Bossman purred, staring into the mirror nastily as he surveyed his new face, running a pale finger down Hero’s jawline, tilting his head this way and that. “As pathetic as you are, you do have a pretty face. That will be useful when attracting investors; things go far more smoothly when they feel they are talking to someone they can trust, and who is more trustworthy than a naive child in a boss’ suit?” Bossman snickered. “Heh. This is for the best.”

Fury boiled within him. Hero was a person, his kids were people! They didn’t deserve to be treated this way! Besides, he’d just gotten Basil back. He couldn’t lose everyone. He couldn’t.

“A people pleaser, hm? Not generally a trait of a businessman, but I cannot deny that Jawsum was right in seeing something in you. Of course, I care not about others in the slightest, and I am a far superior boss than you will ever be because of that. People are a hindrance,” Bossman looked over at the photo of Hero and Jawsum that the alligator had kept on his desk. “We do not need Kel, or Aubrey, or Omori, or Basil, or Mari, or any other irrelevant relation you had before. They are useless to me, and that makes them useless to you too, Hero. I doubt it will take you long to understand the rules: you seem easy enough to mould.”

Bossman scoffed at that. Hero got the strong feeling that Bossman hated him. It was a good thing that loathing was entirely requited.

“You’re so weak. Pathetic,” Bossman repeated disapprovingly. “Far too soft, and agreeable. From looking over your past encounters with Duchess Sweetheart alone, it is easy to tell that you cannot adequately handle yourself. Now that we are sharing a body, that simply will not do. I will not permit anyone touching you. To touch you is to touch me, and I despise that almost as much as I despise you. You are the very antithesis of myself, Hero. Compassionate, sweet, neighbourly, sensitive…” Bossman listed mockingly. “Ridiculous. Bosses do not feel anything as frivolous as emotion.”

‘What do you mean, “sharing a body”?’ Hero queried cautiously within his own head. Did he still have some semblance of control? He really hoped so. Then, he could save his siblings!

“Ah-ah-ah, slow down, Hero. We may be sharing a body, but I rule it,”  Bossman said spitefully. “You are my subordinate. You are expected to act as such. I will do what I wish, and letting you have a brief bit of freedom is lenient of me. I am far superior to someone like you, and you are fully aware of that. There will be no attempts at resisting, or rescue, or any form of fighting. You are good at following orders, so that is what you will do.”

Hero didn’t respond, mind whirring away in search of a loophole, some sort of an escape. He couldn’t let this happen, he refused. The images of his kids’ scared, battered faces flickered through his mind. He wouldn’t fail them again. He had to resist. An amused smile quirked up Bossman’s lips. “I have a feeling that this is the start of an excellent partnership, Hero.”

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[whumpeewhumpwhump]

(AI-less) Whumptober Prompt 6: Mind Control

(Having to do this on mobile cuz my laptop decided to die on me. Decided to torment an OC, say hello to Alistor! Also I don’t know how good this is, just got off of work and am ✨exhausted✨ hope you enjoy nonetheless!)

~~

Prompt 6: Mind Control

“Wake Up,”

Alistor groaned. His head pounded. His neck felt stiff. He tried to bring his hands to his face to rub the grogginess away, only for them to be stuck. He was suddenly much more aware. His eyes shot open as he pulled at his restraints. A light chuckle across from Alistor got him to stop moving. He looked up slowly to see an elegant woman sitting across from him. Suddenly his memory came back to him.

The banquet celebrating the King. The petite woman eyeing him from across the room. Following her out of the ballroom and into the garden. Her warm smile before darkness.

His breathing increased as he pulled against his reatraints again, snarling, “You,”

She smiled sweetly at him, “Me. Happy to see you remember,”

“What are you doing?” Alistor snapped.

With a sigh, she smoothed the front of her dress and stood from her seat, “My job,”

Alistor furrowed his brow and watched her as she slowly approached him. She slowly walked around him and gently placed both hands on his shoulders. Alistor tried shake her hands off but she held fast.

He felt her breath tickle his ear before she spoke. “All I need you to do is relax,”

Alistor’s heart raced as he felt her magical suggestion fall over him. He squeezed his eyes shut, leaned forward and tried to force it out of his head. The woman tisked and ran her hand through his hair before grabbing a handful and yanking his head backwards.

Her voice was in his ear again, encompassing his thoughts, “Oh, don’t make it too difficult for me. Now, Relax,”

He screamed internally as Alistor felt his entire body relax. For a moment, it felt like he was harshly pulled from the forefront of his mind, making room for something else to take over. It felt like he was stuck in his own body—forced to watch himself do whatever the woman wanted of him. He stared ahead blankly, calmly, but on the inside he was thrashing about, screaming at himself to snap out of it, but it was no use.

“Good,” she purred, unlacing her fingers from his hair before gently smoothing it back. “I have a very special job for you. A job assigned to you by the King. Do you think you can do that for me?”

Alistor’s mouth moved without him wanting to. He heard his voice almost as if it were coming from under water, “Yes,”

“Wonderful,” the woman said as she moved from behind him to in front of him. She put two fingers under his chin and tilted his head upwards so he could look at her. Alistor swore she studied his face longer than necessary, basking in her victory over him. “The King knows that you aren’t as loyal as you seem. He knows that you sneak away from the Keep and serve as an informant for that pesky rebellion,”

Alistor felt his blood chill. His heart froze. He knew? All this time, was he only able to sneak out because the King let him? His heart sank deeper and deeper. He was an idiot. A fool. He led the King right to them.

“Worry not, pet,” the woman cooed, her fingers still holding Alistor’s chin. He tried to scream, to move, to bite her finger off, but he couldn’t. All he could do was watch in calm silence. “He’s not angry. He knows you’re just trying to find your place in this world. He’s asked me to help you back onto the correct path. By helping us eradicate the threat. By being an informant for us instead. You want to help me, don’t you?”

“I do,” Alistor heard himself say.

“Good boy,” said the woman as she pulled away and circled him again, this time bending down to undo the ropes around his wrists and ankles. She positioned herself in front of him again, “Now stand,”

Again, he forced himself to break out of her charm, to try and resist her in any way possible, and it worked. Slightly. He rose slowly and haltingly. The woman’s victorious smirk was wiped away and replaced with a quizzical look. Her eyebrow raised gracefully, a sinister smile grew as she connected the dots.

“You’re still in there, aren’t you?” She said, stepping forward before she was toe to toe with Alistor. She was at least a head shorter than him, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t powerful. She reached up and grabbed his jaw, forcing him to look down at her. She studied Alistor’s face. “Commendable, really. Looks like the King underestimated you. It’s not often that someone can resist my Blessing. Don’t worry, pet. I can fix that.”

With one smooth motion, she hit him behind the knee, sending him to the ground. She looked down at him and placed both hands on either side of his face. There was no escaping her grasp nor avoiding eye contact.

There was no way out.

Alistor felt his heart start to race in his chest. His breathing quickened as the world dissolved around him. All he could see were the woman's kaleidoscope eyes staring down at him. The way the little light in the room sifted and reflected was enchanting. He already could feel himself slipping away.

He couldn't help the tears that started to form the longer he was forced to look at her. He had failed his friends. He wanted to prove himself to be better than the King, to be a Prince of the people, not a tyrant. He wanted to be strong as he tried to find a way to dethrone the man that lied to him his entire life about the world and their place in it. Now he was going to become another cog in the machine.

A lump formed in his throat as he let out a whimper unconsciously. The woman smiled at him again. He hated her smile.

“Submit,”

The single command was the only thing that filled his ears. With that final word, Alistor felt himself drift away. He didn't have control over his own body. His mind began to warp as well. As his body relaxed, he felt every coherent thought slip away like grains of sand. He was an empty vessel.

And he would do anything she wanted. Anything.

[actualdickgrayson]

Whumptober Day 6 entry for @ailesswhumptober

Prompt: Conditioning

Poor Dick. I’ll give him a break tomorrow

[bright-thehawksflight]

AI-Less Whumptober Day 6: Bloody Knuckles

Prompt: Bloody Knuckles (alt.)

Fandom: Ancient Greek Religion and Lore (heavily and I mean heavily influenced by L'Amore Prima di Noi, the first half is pretty much identical)

Summary: There comes a moment when Icarus meets the Minotaur. How odd that they're both children. Icarus should have stayed in the Labyrinth with the Minotaur; then he wouldn't have drowned. The Minotaur should have left the Labyrinth with Icarus; then Theseus wouldn't have killed him. How odd that their story got away from them both. How odd that for a single, bright moment, there was love anyway.

@ailesswhumptober

[crash-bump-bring-the-whump]

Day 6 - (ALT PROMPT) Bloody Knuckles

I meant for this to be for day 4 of Whump Week but that other idea was too good, and then I didn't have the drive to finish it until now. More risen demon au stuff!

Ping list: @ailesswhumptober and @whumperofworlds

TWs: blood, discussion of suicide/suicide baiting, death mention

Mariano closed his eyes, feeling Dimitri's fingers combing through his feathers. They sat out in the little creek that ran through their domain, the quiet rustle of leaves and grass in the wind filling the comfortable silence. Cold, impossibly clean water meandered past, pulling the otherworldly black blood from Mariano's skin.

The last mission had been rough. Dimitri had insisted on helping him get clean again. Blood still oozed from cuts and scrapes, dark as the halo that hung near the tips of his tall horns. They'd bandage those once he was inside and dry again. Dimitri's claws scratched luxuriously against the skin of his wings, drawing little happy hums and sighs from Mariano as he finished washing his face.

"You're really pretty." Dimitri said with no warning.

"...What?" Mariano blinked. looking over his shoulder at Dimitri.

The blond demon just looked back at Mariano, still scratching through his feathers. "I said you're pretty. Turn around."

Mariano frowned as he did, black feathers ruffling before smoothing down as he shifted. The water felt amazing as it started to run against his lower back, his thin tail drifting along in the current. Dimitri took one of Mariano's hands in his, dipping it under the chilly water. His thumb started to brush over the broken, bleeding skin over Mariano's knuckles.

Mariano didn't wince, even as sparks of pain raced up his hand. "What makes you say that?" He asked, watching Dimitri's efforts gradually reveal raw, aching skin under the glowing black blood.

Dimitri frowned, tilting his head as he paused. "What do you mean, what makes me say that? I have eyes. You're pretty."

The water's temperature finally started to numb the sting of the bloody knuckles. "I thought you hated me." Mariano said as Dimitri let go of his now-clean hand to take his other one.

"Ah." Dimitri said, looking down at Mariano's hand again. His touch was somehow even more gentle, claws not even coming close to scraping against Mariano's knuckles. "I did, yes."

"You hated me the entire time we were alive. Before everything."

"I did." Dimitri said again, evenly. "I thought you were a brat, and a wimp, and spoiled. And stupid."

Mariano was quiet, letting Dimitri handle him more carefully than he'd ever done when he was alive. "When we all woke up here, you said I should've just killed myself instead of trying to whistle-blow." He said. "What changed?"

Dimitri's thumb passed over the knuckle of Mariano's ring finger, feather-light. "I'm not sure." He said. "You wanted to haunt Luis instead of just killing him, that helped. I liked that."

Dimitri's attention shifted to the knuckle of Mariano's pinky. "I think it was seeing your haunting." Dimitri's voice got softer. "I didn't like hearing you beg like that."

"Ah." It was Mariano's turn to speak quieter. "I'm sorry."

Dimitri shook his head. "No, no, it scared the shit out of Luis. He deserved it." Dimitri's fingers fell still. "He deserved to remember what he did to you."

They both fell quiet, the rustle of leaves and the murmur of water the only noises in their otherworldly paradise. Their feathers ruffled in the warm breeze. Dimitri let go of his hand to wipe at Mariano's cheek, thumb working at a stubborn streak of blood.

"Come." Dimitri said, his hand lingering where he cupped Mariano's face. "Let's get you bandaged up. Manuel's going to be upset if we stay out here too long and you catch a chill."

Dimitri stood, offering Mariano a hand up. He smiled, the briefest flicker of the expression flashing over his face as he accepted Dimitri's help. Dimitri didn't let go of Mariano's hand as they walked through the field of sweet-smelling flowers, up to the home they all shared.

[bloodsweatandpotato]

Day 6

Forced to hurt someone else

Fandom: Original work (chocolate bullet holes)

Characters: Listener (oc), Whisper (oc)

Tw: torture, gun violence

Summary: Listener has a shitty day. Whisper makes it worse before he makes it better.

Listener was cuffed to a chair in a room that smelled of mildew and old carpet. He was alone, or at least he thought he was. He couldn’t see much with his eyes closed like this, and he wasn’t keen on letting his captor(s) know he was awake.

He controlled his breathing, pretending this was nothing more than a bad dream. His head hung loose from between his shoulders.

The sound of a door opening. Wooden. Creaky.

Combined with the musty smell and the feeling of carpet beneath his shoes when he (just barely) shifted, Listener thought it safe to assume he was in an old house. Likely a bedroom. Or maybe a finished basement?

The sound of someone sitting down in front of him.

Listener didn’t react.

“Hm, not awake yet.”

The voice was male. Vaguely American. Unfamiliar.

An explosion of pain, and Listener’s head flew to the side, his cheek stinging. He had just been slapped across the face.

Eyes open.

Where was he?

He squinted, only half-pretending when he blinked slowly and dazedly. He forced his eyes to focus on the man in front of him. No, men.

Behind his unfamiliar captor stood two other figures. Both wore the same baggy uniforms and face masks (“how cliche”, Listener thought to himself).

Listener sighed.

The man in front pulled a folding knife from his belt, flipping it open and plunging the short blade into Listener’s thigh without warning. He cried out, spasming against his cuffs. Blood filled his mouth as he bit down on his tongue, unprepared for the sudden agony.

The knife stayed in.

“Good morning.” The front man said mildly. “I have lunch in two hours, so let’s make this quick, yeah?”

Listener gathered blood in his mouth, before spitting a wad of crimson-tinted saliva between the man’s shoes.

“I was afraid you would say that.”

Listener glared, breathing slowly through clenched teeth in an effort to draw his mind away from the knife currently sticking out of his thigh.

He closed his eyes, tuning out the man’s words. Whisper was coming. He would be there soon. The last thing he remembered, he had been talking with Whisper over the radio. Whisper had to have heard him, had to have noticed him go down. It was only a matter of time. Maybe even minutes, if he had been unconscious long enough.

“I’ll ask you once last time.” Listener could feel the man’s hot breath on his face. “Where is your little friend who blew up our trucks?”

Listener opened his eyes, jerked forward as far as the cuffs would allow, and bit the man right on his nose.

Listener’s face exploded in pain and his neck snapped back, vision blurring and fizzling with black and purple spots. When he blinked the spots away and finally managed to comprehend shapes again, he could see the man clutching his nose with one hand and flexing the bloodied knuckles of the other.

Listener hoped the bastard broke a few fingers on Listener’s face.

The front man growled something, blood dribbling onto his upper lip from his nose, before turning away, stomping to other side of the room.

“Me?” One of the other men asked, and Listener blinked.

He knew that voice.

“You fuckin’ deaf? Yes, you! ‘Less there’s some other 05 round here? Good God. Fuckin’ transfers.”

The man (05?) stepped forward. His eyes glinted in the light, the only part of his face uncovered, and Listener felt relief settle in his stomach.

Familiar icy blue shone from behind the mask. Whisper.

“You gonna talk?” Whisper’s voice sounded lower than normal, more gravelly, but it was unmistakably him.

Listener kept his face neutral, doing his best to keep the spark of recognition out of his face. “Go fuck yourself.”

Whisper backhanded Listener across the cheek, open palmed, angled just the right way to make a *slap* sound without hurting too badly. Listener allowed his head to jerk to the side, going lax and letting the force of the blow rock him in his seat.

Listener thought he played it up nicely, but apparently it wasn’t good enough.

“Boo!” The other man behind Whisper jeered. “You’re not even trying.”

The front man shot him a glare, slapping him upside the head with a bloodied hand. “If you’re not gonna say anything useful, don’t say anything.” He looked to Whisper. “He’s right, though.”

Whisper gritted his teeth, avoided Listener’s searching gaze.

“Cold feet? What’s the hold up?”

Whisper pulled the knife out of Listener’s thigh, slashing across the bound man’s bicep in one fluid motion. Listener was ready that time, letting out a strangled gasp through his teeth, eyes watering.

“That’s it!” The second man jeered again.

A resounding slap, and front man growled. “Shut your mouth and go get me a fuckin’ ice pack.”

The door opened, then closed again, and the second man had left the room.

Listener inhaled raggedly.

Blood poured from his thigh and chest, the stab would pulsing in time with his heartbeat. He swallowed, feeling sick.

“Had enough?” Whisper sneered, still holding the knife with a white knuckled grip. He leaned forward until he was inches away from Listener’s face. He met Listener’s eyes.

He mouthed the words silently ‘Three, two, one-‘ before turning and throwing the knife at the front man, hitting him square in the chest.

There was a flurry of commotion, a gunshot, and the front man was on the floor, head cracked open with Whisper standing over him.

Listener shifted, groaning as pain lanced through his chest and thigh.

Footsteps clambered towards the door.

The second it was opened, Whisper shot the intruder in the kneecap. Ice cubes went flying as he fell to the ground screaming, ziplock baggie of ice opening on impact.

Whisper kicked him in the head. Lights out.

Then, he turned back to Listener, yanking down his mask. “Shit-“ He cursed as he scrambled to Listener’s side, only pausing to garb the keys to the cuffs out of front man’s pocket.

He kneeled in front of Listener, arms reaching around to uncuff the man.

“Sorry, sorry-“ He murmured, hands reaching to press at Listener’s blood-slick thigh. “Fuck- I didn’t- you know I wouldn’t-“ His voice was strained, raw, unsteady. A strange contrast to his hands, which moved with practice and purpose, patting down his vest and pulling out gauze from one of his many pockets.

“God- Listener. When they- I thought- there were six of them. I’m good, not that good though.” He laughed nervously. “I didn’t think- I just-“

Listener placed a newly-freed hand on top of Whisper’s. “Apology accepted.”

[lilac-gold]

Day 6- Omori AU Whumptober 2023

AI-less Whumptober Day 6- ALT Crying to sleep @ailesswhumptober

Fandom: OMORI Rating: Teen Word Count: 1609 Summary: Mari's always been the captain of their ship. The crew look up to her, so she can't afford to show any weakness. AO3 LINK See this post for a summary/explanation of the AU

Mari Suzuki was the captain of the Omori, and took her job very seriously. She commanded the crew with confidence and grace, always knowing what to do, how to do it and when it should be done. A pillar of perfection, Mari was exactly what a pirate captain should be. She gave the kids something to work off of, ensured their ship was well-organised and well-maintained, and quickly built a name for herself on land.

Despite her peg leg, she was agile and quick, a force to be reckoned with. Mari still remembered sawing her own off while treasure hunting; Hero had found her hobbling back with a bleeding stump that ended just above the knee, and she’d never been rushed to his medical room faster. A ghost of a smile crossed her lips at the thought of the ship doctor. Their crew really was perfect.

And that was how it was going to stay.

Mari knew that she was tough on them sometimes, pushing Aubrey a little too far, snapping at Basil a little too much, excluding Kel a little too often, arguing with Sunny a little too frequently. They were just kids, innocent and bright, and she knew that. But she also knew that the world wouldn’t care, especially not since they were on the run from the law.

Piracy was a dangerous job, and no-one was going to easy on them because of their age. Mari had been able to wield a cutlass since she was ten, always having been fascinated by the prospect of becoming the captain of a ship. Sailing had become somewhat of an escape for her in her youth, and Mari fondly remembered the trips she’d managed to sneak late at night onto the open sea, despite her father’s stern overprotectiveness. She’d been able to put up with it for so long. Then, he tried to forbid her from seeing Hero again, suspicious that they were courting, and Mari had had enough. She took Sunny, found a ship, and sailed. Hero joined her, promising to stay by her side no matter what. It was supposed to just be the three of them, travelling from town to town under fake names, no longer crushed by the burden of perfection.

Kel was an accident, stowing away after following Hero. Kel was supposed to stay safe with his parents, but had chosen to follow them instead. Kel was one of the crew members who Mari worried about the most. 

He was their adventurous spirit, the reckless curiosity that first got them into treasure hunting. With four people onboard, it was impossible to get enough money from scavenging and taking on odd jobs at shore. So, they tracked down maps, took bags of gold, and before Mari knew it, she was widely considered a pirate. She wasn’t as affected by the term as she probably should have been, taking the title in stride. It probably didn’t help her image that she had a literal peg leg, but still. She stayed poised, composed, confident.

As captain, she couldn’t afford to show weakness. When she found Aubrey, starving and alone on the docks of a bay they visited, she’d immediately adopted the role required of her. Aubrey had quickly become like a younger sister, Mari training her well and showing her exactly what to do. She was talented with a weapon, particularly their heavier ones, and became a part of the family fast. As far as Aubrey knew, Mari had not a single flaw, and the older girl intended to keep it that way.

Seeing Basil again had been unexpected. He was Sunny’s best friend in their youth, shy and sweet. Not exactly pirate material, but how could Mari refuse him? He’d begged to join their boat, needing money to pay for his sick grandmother’s treatment. His grandma was the only person Basil had left. Mari let him become a part of the crew, and he tended to their crops, doing little odd jobs around in an attempt to earn his keep. He kept out of danger more than any of the other kids, and for that, Mari was grateful.

Hero had many jobs onboard the ship. He was their navigator, chartering courses to treasure. He was their cook, preparing brilliant meals with the scarce resources they had available. He was their doctor, treating them as best he could whenever someone got injured or ill. Hero loved to help and was naturally incredible, seeming good at everything (well, minus sports). He made it look so effortless; Mari admired him immensely. She tried her best to look like that too, but she actually had to work to succeed.

The Omori was a fairly small ship, homely and familiar yet still being a decent enough size to house all of them and carry stolen belongings or treasure. It was well known, mentioned in every one of her wanted posters. Mari wondered if anyone realised she’d named it after her piano.

Playing piano was one of the things she missed most. She could hardly take hers onto the ship, and thoroughly missed the feeling of her fingers dancing across the keys, creating a beautiful melody of her own design. The sound of crashing waves was comforting, yes, but it could get rather repetitive after a while. Mari longed to be able to create another symphony, enjoying writing music when she had time.

With all her responsibilities managing their trips, finances, battles and the like, Mari had little time to herself. Now was one of those times, but the wasn’t able to relax. Not after what had just transpired.

The Headspace was their rival ship, lead by Captain Spaceboy, named as such due to his ship’s cosmic theme. Stars were painted across its purple bow, the boat far, far larger than Mari’s own, and housing many more people. Among them were Sweetheart, a former duchess with a talent for distraction and seduction; Doughie and Biscuit, who only ever seemed to wear aprons and once fought her with a baguette; Rococo, an aspiring artist with a flair for the dramatic; Kite Kid, the inconspicuous pre-teen who boarded with them and rarely parted with his kite, and so, so many more. It often seemed impossible to defeat them, but every single time, Sweetheart demanded they battle, and the Omori had a tendency of coming out on top. Headspace’s crew tended to struggle with teamwork, unfamiliar with their teammates and their fighting strategies, relying on sheer numbers rather than each other.

Mari had won that day, too, but it sure didn’t feel like it. Because lying in the medical room, his arm slashed open by a sword, was Basil. 

Basil was supposed to be safe. He didn’t fight, didn’t wield a weapon, but then, that was the problem. To the Headspace, Basil was the weak link, and they would only keep targeting him if she didn’t fix this quickly. He would have to train too, and quickly. Mari would have to be harsher than ever. She was dreading it.

There was a reason why the kids more frequently went to Hero when they were upset, and not her. Hero was open, approachable, genuine, and always knew what to say. Mari was poised, collected, confident, and only ever pretended. Hero was effortlessly perfect, Mari was artificial. Hero was the healer, Mari was the captain. And that meant that where he was warm, she was cold; where he could smile freely, she wore a constant facade.

It was hardly any different to when she’d left, really. The crushing expectations remained, only now, the only person she could rely on to uphold them was herself. There was no safety net– if anything, she was the safety net for the others. Mari still had to be perfect, never fully enjoying her time at sea as she’d expected to. This wasn’t the freedom she’d wanted. This wasn’t freedom at all.

But what else did she have? This ship, this crew was her everything. So even as tiredness weighed heavily on her eyes, as phantom pain throbbed in her stump of a leg, Mari began drafting out a training plan for Basil under the dim light of a candle in her room. It took hours before she finished, and the sun had slowly started to rise on the horizon. Furiously wiping away tears of exhaustion and frustration, Mari forced herself to hold it together until she reached her bed.

Then, she collapsed onto it, each of her limbs feeling as heavy as lead. She had a few cuts from the earlier fight, nothing too huge but still providing a slight sting whenever she moved. Summoning all of her strength, Mari crawled under the covers, resting her throbbing temples against the cool fabric of her pillow. The slow rocking of the boat lulled her a little even as her mind blared, urging her to get up, to keep watch in case Spaceboy came looking for revenge. Most of the time, he seemed like a polite, well-mannered individual. Then, he donned his eyepatch, his demeanour changed entirely, and he was a true threat.

Mari finally let her tears fall, muffling her quiet sobs into her pillow. It was getting damp. Mari didn’t care. It was so freeing, letting her anguish finally pour out a little before she had to bottle it up again for the next day. Mari was supposed to be perfect, after all.

It was her fault that Basil got hurt. She wouldn’t let that happen again.

Mari fell asleep to the rocking of the waves and a phantom pain in her leg, drying tear tracks sticky on her exhausted face.