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cheezyhamster · 2 months

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So I tried to write something

It might be poorly written idk I've never finished personal creative writing projects

It's the incident so OMORI spoilers, but it's somewhat different; very, very loosely inspired by @woodchipp's omori rewrite and their comments about the game, forgive me if I didn't do anyone's vision justice

It's also supposed to be the timeline that Lyra (my oc) lives in, even though she's not actually existing in this specific thing

And this is supposed to function as a screenplay for the animation I was making!! It won't be exactly the same, but I thought writing a narrative to get an idea of what would happen in the animation would be easier than writing a screenplay or making a storyboard. so. We'll see if I was actually onto something

The thing here (2436 words) ↓

Days. Weeks. Months. Months of playing the violin, unable to spend time with his friends as he pressed down on the strings until his fingers hurt, listened to Mari’s scolding and her biting remarks about his playing posture, his timing here, the pitch there, almost every practice, and every single day the month of the recital. It had seemed like a fun project initially, just something for him to do with his big sister, to be close to her. But it had quickly become something that kept him away from Basil, from Aubrey… from everyone else all because he wasn’t good enough, according to his parents, according to even Mari. And he was forced to spend hours upon hours laboriously playing his instrument to make up for his shortcomings.

Wandering around the piano room after a particularly poor run-through of the duet that had left Mari counting to ten as she sat with her fingers clenched tightly around the edge of the piano bench, he gazed down at the calendar that sat on a table in the corner of the room. Big, red X’s drawn in marker crossed out each day of the month, up until October 25th, where the word “RECITAL” was circled. Today. It should feel exciting, shouldn’t it? Finally getting to show off how hard he and his sister had practiced to perform such a beautiful piece? So why didn’t it? Why was it so stressful? Why was Mari giving him such angry looks, instead of being proud of him? He’d agreed to do the duet for her, to make her happy. With how things were going, it looked like he had failed, and he was going to be a disappointment. Again. He suppressed a sigh as Mari spoke up, her voice strained in her effort to maintain a facade of serenity.

“Let’s try again, okay, Sunny?”

Nodding reluctantly, he turned around, his feet dragging on the floor slightly as he made his way back to the piano, taking his violin and bow into his hands from where the instrument sat on top of the grand piano Mari had slammed her hands onto in a bout of anger just minutes ago.

“One more time before we have to change into our recital clothes,” she murmured, her voice comparable to a silk ribbon stretched taught.

As Mari rested her fingers on the ivory keys in front of her, he raised his violin, tucking the Guarneri chin rest under his chin and preparing himself for another playthrough of the duet. Surely they'd get it right this time.

No more than a dozen beats in, he heard Mari hit a key a half-step off, throwing him off and making his bow screech horrifically against the strings. His sister yelled in frustration, her hands balled up into fists as she slammed them down on the piano, the discordant notes hurting his ears as she gave up on pretending to be calm.

“Goddamnit Sunny! Can't you play without screwing up?!”

Wait, that wasn't fair. He heard her mess up first! He quickly tucked his violin and bow under his arm to free up his hands, raising them to protest. But his effort to communicate was futile as Mari turned away from him, storming out of the piano room.

He scrambled after her. Did he make her too mad this time? Was it truly his fault? He thought he had been doing a good job, making his friends happy. Why wasn't she? Didn't she see that he was trying?

As he chased after her, up the stairs, he gripped his violin tightly. Maybe he could show her that he really was good. Twisting to face her as he reached the top of the stairs, his bow slipped out from between his elbow and side, clattering as it fell down the wooden stairwell. So much for that idea. It only seemed to enrage Mari further as she glared at him.

“Why have you come up here? To ruin things further? The recital is going to be a failure, and it'll be your fault! I've tried so hard, and nothing is working! Don't you get that all our friends are counting on us? Don't you know how disappointed they will be when they hear how nothing is perfect, nothing is how it should be? It's your fault! It's- I've been patient! I've been trying so hard to tolerate your clumsiness, your mistakes! You're ruining everything! This is because of how often you ask to see Basil, see Kel, see Aubrey! You need to stop being so childish, distracting yourself! Be serious for once! They don't want you around if you can't show them that you're useful! That you can do anything right!” she shrieked at him.

He felt himself flinch violently at her outburst. This wasn't Mari. Mari doesn't yell at him like this, right? He was trying, he really was. But he wanted to hang out with his friends. Did she have a point? Would they not like him if he messed up at the recital? He would be a failure. A pathetic, useless disappointment. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes as Mari continued to berate him.

“Dad is right! You're not good enough! You don't work hard enough! You'll never be enough! Sometimes it feels like everything would be easier for everyone if you just disappeared!”

That wrenched a gasp out of him. Surely she didn't mean that. His own sister. His big sister, who comforted him when he woke up from nightmares. Who defended him from his father's criticism, his judgment. Who told him he was perfect in his own way, and didn't have to change himself if he didn't want to. Who was loved by and loved everyone like she was their own mother. Why was she being like this? Was it because of the recital? Was it truly his fault? It couldn't be! Right? His heart pounded violently against his chest as if it was fighting to rip out of his flesh. He could hear the remarks of his parents stabbing into him alongside Mari's yelling.

“Worthless.”

“If only you were normal.”

“You ruin everything you touch.”

“It's pointless to pretend that you can be anything like Mari.”

“You don't truly matter to your friends.”

“Why can’t you something useful for a change, instead of being pathetic?”

He didn't want to listen to any of it anymore. The hate, the pain. He wanted it gone! His mind whirled as he tried to keep a hint of a grip on himself, his big sister's shouts fading slightly as he realized what the problem surely must be.

The violin. The damned violin. If only he had refused to play it from the start. If only everything stayed the same, then he would be with his friends right now, not listening to Mari’s curses. She was yelling at him because of the violin, too. It would be better to just get rid of it.

Without any further thought, he promptly threw the violin down the stairs, feeling a vague sense of satisfaction as he heard the wood splinter and crack. He wouldn't have to play it anymore. Then- then Mari would stop yelling at him, right? His parents would scold him less.

“Sunny, what the fuck did you do?! What have you done? Everyone worked so hard to get that just for you, and you threw it all away! What is wrong with you?! You're sick! You're broken! You keep making everything worse!”

Mari's voice ripped through the thin veneer of hope he had felt, filling him with guilt instead. The tears that had been threatening to fall could be contained no longer, cascading down his face. He really did ruin everything. Maybe he shouldn't be here at all. He raised a fist to his chest to apologize.

“Don't- stop doing that!”

Mari grabbed his wrists, keeping him from signing.

“Talk out loud, like a normal person! I'm sick and tired of pandering to your stupid mutism! You can talk! Can't you be good at something, instead of making life harder for everyone?”

His mouth opened, but no sound came out, his throat constricting as his pulse echoed loudly in his ears. Why was she doing this? Didn't she understand how hard it was for him to speak? He couldn't answer, not without his hands. Why wouldn't she let go? He wanted her to let go!

In a burst of panic, he shoved her away as hard as he could, yanking his hands out of her grip. He was about to bring the side of his hand down on his other palm in a “stop”, before he saw Mari's bad knee give out, making her stumble more than most people would, resulting in her crashing down on the hard, wooden floor.

His eyes widened as he saw the pain in his big sister's eyes. It really was his fault. Everything was his fault. Bringing his fist to his chest, he said sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. He didn't mean it. He didn't mean to hurt her. But as he stepped forward to help her up, she pulled herself back, away from him.

“Get out,” she ordered, her harsh tone near inaudible.

He brought his index fingers together close to his chest and moved them away from each other a small amount in a gesture of protest.

“Get out! I don't want to see you here! Everything is ruined, I am ruined, why- just leave me alone!” Mari’s voice rose shrilly, prompting him to stumble down the stairs, barely avoiding face-planting into the ruined violin at the base of the steps as he dashed to the front of the house and yanked open the front door as fast as he could, not bothering to slip shoes on before sprinting out onto the sidewalk, trembling violently as he gasped for breath.

It was his fault. It was his fault. It was his fault his fault his fault his fault. Ruiner of everything, failure to everyone, someone who should just die.

He shivered against the cold October air, a silent sob escaping his lips as he ran down the street, almost hoping that a car would hit him as he ran across a road, towards the park. The playground. To the good memories, where all he knew was smiles and laughter from his big sister, not screaming and shouting.

Sitting on the freezing ground with his knees to his chest inside the big metal cat in the playground, it was almost easy to pretend that nothing had happened. That he had imagined breaking his violin, imagined how angry Mari was with him. He was just enjoying the weather right now. That was why he was outside. That was all. No other reason. If he went back home now, surely everything would be just fine, and his big sister would be there with a big smile, to hug him and tell him that she loved him. Surely. But maybe it wouldn't hurt to wait a bit longer to return.

As the sky darkened after what could have been hours or mere minutes, the chill from the atmosphere seeped into his bones. Maybe he had had enough fresh air for now. He had a recital to get to, didn't he? Yes, that sounded about right.

Pushing himself to his feet, he shuffled out of the park, trying to ignore how the wet grass beneath his feet soaked his socks. They'd be ruined by the time he got home… oh well. He could get another pair.

He nearly walked into oncoming traffic on the way back. Odd, wasn't it? No, it shouldn't be. He should ignore it. Nothing was odd. The flashing red and blue lights hurt his eyes but he tried to pretend that they weren't there. Because everything was normal, and everything was okay!

There were cars in front of his house. Police cars. An ambulance. What were they doing here? Surely nothing had happened? Fighting down the rising dread, he squeezed his eyes shut, desperately brainstorming a harmless reason they were here. False alarm, maybe? If it was a false alarm, then why did he hear sobbing from the backyard? Reopening his eyes, he took shaky steps towards the voices. Unfamiliar for the most part, save for Hero’s wailing. Why was he wailing? What for?

Getting to the backyard hardly made the situation any more lucid as he was immediately caught in the embrace of a blond. Oh. What was Basil doing here?

“Where have you been? We were so worried about you,” Basil was saying. “I’m so sorry…”

Sorry about what? Everything was fine! He craned his neck to try to see past his friend, to where policemen surrounded one of the trees. His head felt fuzzy. Almost like being dizzy, but without the spinning. He tapped on Basil’s spine in a request to be let go. Basil only tightened his grip.

“You don’t want to see it. It’s- it’s…”

His best friend’s expression made him faintly nauseous. His attempt to maintain some semblance of positivity crumbled. What was going on? He struggled against Basil’s grip until he was free, skidding on the wet grass as he came to a halt in front of the tree, where he could finally see what had happened.

He wanted to vomit. He felt so sick. Mari hung from the tree, her hair obscuring her face as she swayed gently in the wind. She had been yelling at him the last time he saw her alive. He felt an inkling of relief before he stamped it down with disgust. Relief? He killed his sister! The realization struck him like a bat to the head. He’d done this. This was his fault. He brought her to this point. He really did make everything worse. He barely felt Basil’s hand on his shoulder as he fell to his knees, rubbing his fist against his chest in a hopeless attempt to apologize to someone who would never forgive him.

He didn’t know how long he’d been apologizing before he was pulled away from his sister, his friends’ tear-streaked faces crowding around him as they all tried to comfort each other amidst the shock and anguish. He didn’t deserve their comfort. They would hate him if they knew how he’d hurt his big sister, drove her to string herself up on that tree.

Glancing back to see her one last time, he saw one of her sightless eyes peering through the curtain of ebony hair, the wretched view searing itself into his mind as he quickly turned away.

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ask-the-totally-real-peppino · 1 year

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(*Smashes through the door* I have finished the thing

I did lose steam part of the way through, so the ending is a little tepid, but I think it's still cute, hehe

Basically, this is 'Pep experiences fireworks for the first time and it is not fun'

Content warnings for: Depiction of a panic attack, self-harm (unintentional but still), descriptions of body horror, (sorta) flashback to war, an implied gun, and Peppino says fuck

Okay enjoy! (1,403 words under dere!!!)

It was busy.

Busier than usual.

Unusual for a Tuesday, but Pep didn't mind. He was more than happy to create and share his pizzas with others. But all the extra business aside, something else was unusual today, and Pep could not stop tasting it.

There was a constant saltiness to Peppino, most likely due to how much the man sweat, but the ever-growing pungency of raw onions and black pepper began to give his doppelgänger cause for concern. Was it just the amount of people visiting today? Was something going to happen? Pep did not know, but the thoughts caused his own anxieties to start bubbling in his chest. He chose not to ask, instead continuing on with helping Peppino close up shop for the evening.

The sky was very pretty at this time. Oranges, pinks and purples, as the sun said goodbye for today. Pep liked to watch the colours shift and change into deeper blues and indigos, but it didn't feel right today. He lifted his head from his arms, parts of where his chin and forearms began to merge getting pulled apart, and looked at the door of Peppino's room. It was made quite clear early on not to disturb him when the door was closed, and Pep respected his space, despite the gnawing urge to knock on his door. The clone gave a quiet huff, again noting the taste of pepper and onions, and… Something bitter…? Oh, cilantro… Yuck. Pep hadn't figured out what that taste was for Peppino yet, but it certainly wasn't a pleasant one. His eyes rolled in their sockets for a moment, trying to recall memories of cilantro. He thought back to just a few hours ago - Peppino did seem hesitant to say goodbye to Gustavo and Brick… Was it something to do with them?

Pep didn't have much time to ponder, as a shrill sound pierced through his thoughts, shattering them with a BANG. He was suddenly on high alert, skin inhumanely stretched up into points along his back and shoulders. There was another screeeeeech, and a BANG. His chest heaved as simulated breath grew tight in his non-existent lungs. And another. His nails dug into the windowsill, the black colouring beginning to spiral up his fingers. And another. Pep's vision started to blur as his eyeballs melted in his form of crying, but he could still see with every boom, colours flashed and danced outside. Was this some sort of warning? An attack? He couldn't make sense of it, as yet another BANG brought his hands to his ears. His doughy skin making a wet slap against itself as his fear made his form quickly unstable. There were other sounds too - crackling, popping, screaming… Or was it cheering…? - It didn't matter! Pep wanted it all blocked out, as he held onto his head tighter and tighter. His hands fused into his ears and cheeks, becoming unrecognisable as what they were supposed to be. But his fingers held strong, now striped with black as his sharpened nails buried themselves deep into his head. Every boom jolted him to his core. The smell of gunpowder made him sick- No, wait- He didn't know what that was? Did he? He felt himself sink further and further down into the mud. His lower body was caked in the stuff- No! There was no mud-! Why is there mud? Pep managed a look down, finding not a puddle of his legs, but… Boots? He didn't… Wear boots? Did he? He saw… Shrapnel around his feet. Discarded, pointed pieces of metals… But how did he know that? He couldn't of known that- Another BANG, followed by the crackling once more. He braced himself against the wall as dirt was thrown up into the air nearby. His grip tightened around the cool metal. Finger ready on the trigger- On the what? His hands were practically nothing! How was he holding-

"…-p…!"

…Huh?

"…-ep…!"

Something was warm. Warm, and clammy… It was frantic, but still gentle, as it pawed at him.

"Pep!"

Through all the bangs and pops, Pep heard Peppino, calling for him. Even though his body was just a puddle, he found his eyes and forced them to the surface of his being. Peppino leaned over him, looking more stressed than usual. Sweat beading down his face and something slick and oily on his hands…? Oh… That was himself… Pep force an ear to form, as Peppino seemed to be saying something, but it was too muffled to understand, and too fast for him to lip-read.

"-uda told you! I shoulda stayed out here! Fuck! Please be okay-!"

Pep just barely managed to process his words, most of his focus on trying to keep his features formed. His eyelids closed hard over his eyes, blinking a few times as his brow came together. He could feel his fingers forming, trying to pull himself out of himself. A dull, thudding pain made itself known, as his brain reformed, along with most of his head. His eyes weren't quite back in their oversized sockets, but Pep did notice Peppino's shoulders relax a little. Teeth and tongue came next, clumsily gnashing together in an attempt to speak, but it only came out as garbled, incomprehensible sounds.

"Hey! Hey! It's alright! Uh, take your time… Getting back together?" Peppino spoke slower than earlier, but there was anxiety on the edge of his words. Pep managed a soft noise in acknowledgement, pushing the parts of his face into the correct places. His neck and shoulders started to form, but he quickly felt the exhaustion weighing on him. He would not be able to form all the way. But he could at least pull as much of his melted lower half in as possible, becoming more compact and less of a puddle.

Peppino watched his clone slowly come together, but not as the tall and lanky, almost-passable person he usually was. Instead, as his dough was peeled off his palms like glue, Pep was only a few inches tall. This was not the first time Peppino had seen Pep change his size, but this was different. His legs remained as a puddle, and he looked more like a very soggy stuffed animal than a person, with a much larger head and eyes. The tiny Pep squeaked softly, holding his hands out and looking up to him. Peppino understood, and gently scooped him up, carrying him and sitting down on the couch with him in his hands. He could clasp his hands together and Pep would be completely covered… It was much easier to hide when you're so small. The idea sounded nice to him. Comforting almost. Peppino was brought out of his thoughts by another small squeak coming from his hands. Pep was looking up at him again, pointing to his head and miming a spiral coming from it. Fuck. What did Hazel say this meant again…? Pep mimed the gesture again, and then pointed to the window. Outside…? Oh…

"The sounds outside…?"

Pep nodded, and then mimed once more.

"Yeah, they are loud… But they-a should have stopped for now…" Peppino gave a small sigh, looking to the window. At least he hoped they stopped.

Pep held up his index finger and waved it for a moment. Peppino knew this one.

"They were fireworks. People shoot them into the sky and they explode in colours and-a lights."

Pep's brow furrowed for a moment, before holding up the same finger and touching his chest with the side of his hand. Peppino also knew this one - Pep liked to use it a lot.

"They use them when it's a celebration. I don't-a really get it… And I don't really like it either…" Peppino sighed again, a longer one this time. He was tired.

Despite the many questions popping into his head, Pep could taste green beans. He was quite tired too, instead deciding to nestle against Peppino's chest. He found that rhythmical thump-thump-thumping that he learnt about recently was soothing to him. Even if the noises - the 'fireworks' - came back, he imagined he would feel alright where he was.

Peppino couldn't help an amused huff as the tiny clone snuggled closer to him. Guess he wouldn't be making dinner just yet, so he leaned back into the cushions, keeping a hand around Pep as he dozed off.

"Night, Pep."

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