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lilac-gold · 1 year ago

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Day 6- Omori AU Whumptober 2023

AI-less Whumptober Day 10- ALT Bullied @ailesswhumptober

Fandom: OMORI Rating: Teen Word Count: 2324 Summary: Sweetheart is the goddess of love, and has been searching for a suitor for decades. When Sweetheart remains wholly unimpressed with a certain group of sisters' attempts to make her one, they decide to punish her for her rudeness. AO3 LINK

Rococo had never been well-liked, not even when he was small. He was too flashy, too dramatic, too extravagant, too much. Adults didn’t like him, finding his lopsided, gap-toothed grins and paint-splattered overalls far less endearing than Sweetheart’s perfect smiles and pristine pink dresses. Everyone loved Sweetheart, everyone disliked Rococo. That was the way things were, and always had been.

Rococo was considered ‘odd’ by most, merely the flair in his gestures enough to cause disgruntled expressions around him. He was partial to using long, sophisticated words he’d found whilst reading old novellas, and implementing random French phrases into his everyday vocabulary. Learning came easily to him, but Rococo held no interest in most of it, his passion lying in art. So, he would doodle during lessons and watch as his teachers considered him a lost cause, then critique his art teacher’s latest piece and get himself landed in detention for a month.

Closeby High was renowned for the general unfriendliness amongst its students and staff. Not a single person smiled or waved hello in the corridors, the uniform was bland and grey, and every issue Rococo brought up was quickly swept under the run. Closeby cared not for its students, and especially not for Rococo.

He spent his days alone, often hiding out in the art rooms at every break or recess he was provided. So wrapped up in further mastering his passion, he tended to forget to eat, and half of the student populous (the half that didn't hate him) had no idea who he was. Sweetheart scolded him for secluding himself so much, but it wasn't deliberate! Rococo was a social person, really, he was. It was just… There was nobody at Closeby he really deemed worthy of socialising with. He had standards, after all.

Of course, he was left without a choice most of the time. Each of his classes was made up of at least thirty pupils, and plenty of their work required team participation and collaboration. Rococo shuddered at the very thought. While he was exceedingly talented, his peers were not, and he despised having his work sullied by the careless disturbances of those he was forced to associate with. Teenagers were loud and uncouth, lackadaisical and uncouth, and Rococo looked forward to the day he could leave them all behind for good.

For now, he dealt with it. He ignored the jeers at his flashy clothes and the dyed teal tips of his hair, the inappropriate comments about his earrings and his stature, the belittling that came with his unfortunately low social standing. Rococo yearned for approval, but he recognised that those around him were far inferior– both skill and development wise. So, he let the words flow off of him, ignoring everything with sophisticated apathy and distinguished grace, reminding himself this was temporary, they would mature and leave him be eventually.

It was when the harassment started to get physical that Rococo had a problem. It was hardly awful, just little shoves and barges in the hallways that knocked him into walls, short kicks to the back of his legs because they liked seeing him stumble. It was nothing, really. He dealt with it. He was fine. There was nothing the teachers would do anyway.

Rococo brushed each injury aside as though it were merely a bug, dismissive even as something slowly began sinking in his stomach. He bruised easily. He was clumsy. He got into fights with Sweetheart. He was fine.

This wasn’t bullying, no matter what Sweetheart had to say about it.

She’d seen the bruises painted across his skin one day after a particularly hard sequence of shoves. It wasn’t a pretty picture, and Rococo had frozen when she barged loudly into his room, complaining about something or the other as she (like always) ignored any privacy he might have wanted. He loved his sister, but she really was self-centred.

“So then I told him–” Sweetheart cut herself off, eyes narrowing as her gaze flickered to Rococo’s shirt, which he had hastily tugged down after the interruption in his examination. “What’s that?”

“It’s nothing,” Rococo said simply, because it wasn’t. Really. She didn’t need to make a big deal out of it.

“Whatever that is, it’s certainly not nothing,” she told him, a mixture of curiosity, indignation and wariness in her voice as she approached him. “Let me see.”

It wasn’t a suggestion. One way or another, Sweetheart always got what she wanted. Rococo sighed, tentatively lifting his shirt a little again. Sweetheart shoved it up further, inhaling sharply, and Rococo winced.

Sweetheart stared deeply into his face, murder written all over it. “What. Happened.”

For all she fought with him, Sweetheart was awfully possessive. Someone had been hurting him without her knowledge, and now, she was furious. It wasn’t protectiveness, not in its entirety, but it was close. If he were anyone else, Sweetheart wouldn’t have cared in the slightest. But they’d been together since they were tiny, and might as well have been born siblings. She and Donut Grandma were all he had.

“It’s just a few bruises,” Rococo said weakly. “It’s not importa–”

“Was it that boy?” Sweetheart folded her arms, unrelenting. “The really big one with the overalls?”

It didn’t take long for Rococo to figure out who Sweetheart was talking about. Boss, the ringleader of a little group who pestered him most. He was tall and muscled, with a wide stature and informal manner of speaking. He was a far cry from Rococo’s own stick-like arms and slim figure, towering over him effortlessly with a leer.

Sweetheart cleared her throat expectantly, and Rococo realised he’d zoned out, shifting uncomfortably. “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Sweetheart frowned at him impatiently. “Surely there is only one–” She cut herself off, blinking slowly. “You mean to tell me… That he is not the only instigator?”

“Instigator?” Rococo echoed, alarmed. “Sweetheart, it’s fine, you don’t have to–”

“It is bullying, and I will not allow my little brother to be bullied,” Sweetheart tossed her hair haughtily. “I expected better from you! It is shameful to allow yourself to be pushed around like this!”

As much as he tried to stop it, cold guilt pooled in the pit of his stomach. It was silly. There was nothing to be guilty about. “They’re just a little careless. It’s okay, Sweetheart. I am quite durable!”

She begrudgingly accepted that, still scowling. “The next time one of them comes near you, flick paint at them. It’s an awful ordeal trying to get your stupid art supplies out of clothes.”

Rococo agreed with a smile, noticing the masked worry in Sweetheart’s calculating gaze. She was smart, as little as she tended to show it, and very good with people. If he asked, she’d sort them out immediately. But Rococo was not weak, and he would deal with far worse critiques if he were to enter the art industry! So he stayed at Closeby and pretended the insults didn’t sting, keeping his head held high even as everyone else’s stayed far above him. Rococo loathed his height. He ought to be tall, statuesque, a true being of grandeur!

“Hey, it’s Rococo,” a voice sniggered behind him, and Rococo let out a long, drawn-out breath. “Got a girlfriend yet?”

Rococo gritted his teeth, trying to keep on walking. He needn’t pay them any heed. And yet, one of his bad straps was grabbed onto, hauling him a little back until he slammed painfully against a locker. Rococo hissed as its sharp handle dug into his back, glaring resolutely up at Boss. Stupid high school stereotypes, he seethed. Boss had clearly watched too many Whizzney Channel movies as a kid.

“I demand that you leave me alone!” He commanded firmly, channelling his inner Sweetheart. To his dismay, his attackers just laughed, treating his defiance like a joke. Rococo’s face burned.

“That’d be a no then,” Boss commented smugly. “It’s not exactly hard to see why though, if you know what I’m saying.”

He guffawed, high-fiving the boy beside him like an idiot. Rococo rolled his eyes, sourly looking over the students and staff passing by indifferently. He hated this school.

“Leave me alone, or I shall alert my sister,” Rococo threatened grandly. Sweetheart was a force to be reckoned with!

…Unfortunately for him, though, Sweetheart didn’t go to Closeby. And that meant Boss and his lackeys had no idea who she was.

“Ooh, will you?” Boss grinned. “You think she can take all of us on?”

“Uh, Boss? I don’t fight girls,” one of them piped up behind him, and Boss glared at the teen who’d spoken.

“Well, I do,” Boss said simply, crossing his arms tightly. “It’s pathetic,” he sneered, turning to Rococo once again. “Can’t stand up for yourself, huh? That checks out.”

Rococo bristled at that, discreetly fishing around in his bag for something he could use against them. He eventually settled on his water bottle, sliding it out quickly and unscrewing the lid. Boss was still rambling on about something, shoving him further against the lockers when he noticed Rococo was trying to move, but to was too late. In a quick, jerky movement, Rococo splashed water all over Boss’s clothes.

It was colourful. Huh. Rococo must have forgotten to replace it after he used his bottle as a replacement for the contained they had to share in his art lessons. Eurgh. He was going to have drunk that later.

Boss recoiled at the sudden cold, unwittingly releasing him, and Rococo darted away, bottle discarded on the floor. Sweetheart congratulated him that night, saying he’d done well. Rococo had smiled. He’d believed he’d fixed the problem.

Really, it just made everything worse. Because now it was personal, now Boss really hated him, and Rococo had a feeling the boy didn’t know the limits of his own strength sometimes. The shoves grew harsher, the kicks more forceful, the yanks on his hair eliciting painful yelps he couldn’t control. His skin was a canvas of ugly yellows and greens. Rococo hated it, secluding himself more and more. Only, whenever they found him, it meant there were no risks, because Rococo had taken himself away from any witnesses.

Things came to a head one day when Boss cornered him after school. He was supposed to walk home, Closeby not too far. Only, that day, Boss stuck around waiting for him, and Rococo didn’t have anywhere to hide. That sneer met him once again, and he resigned himself to what was to come.

Boss grabbed him by the wrist, hauling him forwards to spit some sort of insult in his face. Rococo was numb to it all by that point, not responding and not listening. He didn’t care. He was fine. This was–”

“Hey!” Boss yelled, grip tightening, and Rococo let out a strangled gasp as pain shot up his arm. His wrist throbbed, liquid fire coursing around it and gathering in a specific spot. Weakly, Rococo tried to pry Boss off of him, his tugs useless in comparison to Boss’s strength.

Boss simply scoffed at him, unrelenting until he noticed the tears gathering in Rococo’s eyes. Rococo was an easy crier, but he never let his tears fall at school, and especially not in front of Boss. Hesitantly, Boss let go, eyes wide, wary and weirdly worried, and Rococo clutched the wrist to his chest defensively, cradling it.

“You’re fine,” Boss said dismissively, but he didn’t look certain, and Rococo didn’t feel fine.

He backed away, still too choked with pain to form words, eyebrows knitted together as he fruitlessly tried to hold things together. It hurt.

“Wait– you’re not–” Boss continued, suddenly looking stricken, and that was all the cue Rococo needed to flee. With trembling fingers, he pressed Sweetheart’s contact, feeling his wrist throb and ache distressingly. It didn’t look broken, but panic surged through him all the same, and his voice shook when he answered Sweetheart’s snippy ‘Rococo?!’.

He explained what had happened. She was furious. He winced again, recoiling from the phone. He didn’t know why he was being so sensitive. This was fine.

He wanted to go home.

At Sweetheart’s insistence and Rococo’s half-hearted protests, his grandma took him to the hospital. His wrist was sprained. Rococo was lucky it wasn’t worse.

He wasn’t to go back to Closeby High again, after that. He was signed up for Faraway instead, where Sweetheart went. They weren’t supposed to have room, but Sweetheart could be very pushy when she wanted to be, and awfully convincing. He was accepted, and Rococo couldn’t hide his relief. Over time, the remarks and the comments and the pushes had built up until, without even realising it, Rococo was carrying a huge, indescribable weight. Sweetheart had hauled it off of his shoulders effortlessly, and Rococo really got the feeling he should have gone to her sooner.

Irritatingly enough, it was his dominant hand that was injured. Rococo itched to hold a paintbrush, a pencil, even a biro, but he wasn’t permitted to draw until it was healed. The weeks it took to recover seemed to last forever. After it had healed, Sweetheart initially took to grabbing him by it and dragging him around. Then, she noticed how he flinched every time she touched it, and stopped. Rococo felt a little bad, it was supposed to be all better. Sometimes, he just… Forgot it wasn’t injured anymore.

Boss tried to speak to him again on his walk to Faraway. Rococo ignored him. He’d had months to apologise for treating him how he did if that was what he wanted to do, and Rococo really wasn’t in the mood for more bullying if it wasn’t. Because that was what it had been. Bullying.

But as he stepped through the gates, into a whole new community, Rococo got the feeling that from there, everything was beginning to look up.

#ailesswhumptober2023 #day 10 #omori au #omori aus #omori rococo #omori sweetheart #omori magical girls #magical girls omori #magical girls au #bullying #boss omori #omori real world #omori headspace #it's a bit of both :)#omori whump

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rknchan · 2 years ago

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HAPPINESS CHARGE PRETTY CURE LOVE POST

i just finished hcpc and i really enjoyed it !!!!!! its not going to be some kind of deep analysis i just gonna be silly about things i like in hcpc

THE CHARACTERS i adore each and every one of them (except for namakeruda i wanna punch him with lovely punching punch)

MEGUMI CHAAAN shes so precious to me !!!! so pure so truly lovely her desire to make everyone happy is so heartwarming megumichan always puts a smile on my face whenever shes on screen ^^

i saw people thinking shes mary sue but i cannot agree :c for me marysue is a character so perfect that theyre unbelievable (!)

and megumi IS believable to me . people like megumi do exist,,,,, and she has more serious flaws than being clumsy and bad at studying;

shes all about helping others but cares about herself little, when shes suffering her pain is hidden behind a smile to the point she can't resist her pain anymore, she worries about being weak and her help is not needed - altruistic people like megumi often experience this feelings too

also she reminds me of my fav person </3 and she motivates me to become a better person myself and believe in love and happiness,,, sorry it sounded cheesy but its true.. thank you megumi ^^

HIME HIME HIME my blorbo !!!!! at the beginning her anxiety and arkwardness, feeling of being not worthy enough to be a precure, escaping from problems felt so relatable :c and it felt so good to see her grow. the moment when she saved iona was so powerful. i wish we saw more of her family when she returned to blue sky

btw i love meguhime as friends and as a pairing theyre so pure so cute they care for each other so much awwww,w,w,,w,w,w, *holds them gently*

YUKOO precious rice bean and the most canonical lesbian of hcpc

i love her rice song its cute and catchy i often chant it ahhahaha

also i like how she always wants to keep peace, to befriend villains and give them love they lacked !!! "why keep fighting if we can eat delicious rice together" SAY THIS LOUDER QUEEN HONEY shes so based for this

i can't say much about iona maybe ??? shes a deep and realistic character and her story with cure tender makes me cry but tbh she put me off in the beginning as it was uncomfortable to watch her being harsh on hime (tho its justified)... but she grew a lot too ,,,,

i expected to dislike seiji but actually he was such a nice character and a loyal friend who actually has chemistry with megumi and role in the plot

QUEEN MIRAGE is my fav villain ever and tbh i can even relate to her

deranged traumatised emowoman ily

the story of her relationship with blue breaks my heart ... the moments when she still wants to be loved by blue but cant resist her anxious thoughts and red's manipulation... HER PURIFICATION SCENE WHEN ALL THE CURES COMFORTED MIRAGE;;;;; HER REUNION WITH BLUE;;;;;;;; sobs

the generals are so fun to watch :) dorks with goofy hats

hosshiwa remains my crush forever..... and oresky and namakeruda are just fuking silly smashing them smashing them

tho their final battle with the cures and their purification was such a deep and impressing scene

i love how brutal and creative was this season with its attacks. lovely punching punch <333 lovely beam <33 princess bullet machine gun <333 let cute girls do some violence

and their innocent form attacks are just beautiful

hcpc is often criticized for its repetitive designs and i sorta agree... but at least they were creative with international cures designs (aloha and bomber girls are my favourite, also im glad to see a cure from my country !!!! cure katyusha <3) and form changes AND FOREVER LOVELY DESIGN JUST SLAYS. SHE LOOKS LIKE A LITERAL ANGEL

also maybe theres a meaning behind the similar designs??? like, all the cures all over the world have similar costumes and it can symbolize they have a lot in common, theyre unite, they are a million-cure team .. while the phantom generals are all different, there's nothing uniting them, there's no team spirit or friendship between them

also the soundtrack is so good and catchy !!!!! i adore the opening and the rice song (and especially honey and hosshiwa's song battle) and the innocent song !!!!

i love the message of hcpc that everyone is worthy to be happy and loved, even if youre in deep despair, disappointed in life, thinking you'll never be loved and thus love is worth nothing - someone is always going to be here for you

but at the same time it points out that love can be a destructive force (red, mirage, dark seiji), that its impossible to be happy all the time, that feeling pain and hate is valid

sorry it turned out so long i hope i could share my love for happiness charge with you ,,,,,

i love you megumi i love you hime i love you yuko i love you iona i love you blue i love you red i love you mirage i love you seiji i love you masukomio i love you phantomu i love you hosshiwa i hate you namakeruda i love you oresky I LOVE YOU HAPPINESS CHARGE

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