#otomic

[oztomic]

No One Ever Taught Me

@ailesswhumptober Day 10: Hypoxia, "What were you thinking?"

Teen | 586 words

Fandom: Original Work (ymad)

Tags: Parent Figure & Child Relationship, They/Them Pronoun Character, Non Human Characters, Pre-Canon Fic

TWs: Drowning, Shouting from a Parental Figure, Reference to Parental Death

AN: I don't really like how this came out, but I don't care enough to try and rewrite it. Also, @alojzy-art, enjoy more Fallon and Spud.

Fallon lived up north, deep in the Savaview mountains. Most of the year, it was cold and snowy, leaving him and Aris to bundle up to fight off the chill. But, every so often, a warm spell would arrive and melt the ice, leaving the small pond by their cabin the perfect temperature for swimming.

The summer after Aris moved in with him, Fallon decided they would enjoy spending time at the pond, giving him the time to tend to the weeds beginning to spread through his crops. He had sent (), his most loyal hound, to settle in the shade of the nearby tree and keep an eye on the kid, just for his own sake of mind, while he settled down in the dirt and tended to his potatoes.

And it had gone well, for a while. He had been making good progress before Kere had started barking and howling, drawing Fallon's attention. He gripped the hoe beside him and stood, racing for the pond. Worst case scenarios flashed through his mind. Had someone found them? Was it some wild animal?

As he broke into the clearing, his eyes scanned for a threat, but found none. Kere was stood at the bank of the pond, barking out at something within. It was splashing and flailing, making Fallon wonder if something has moved into the pond without him realizing.

He dove into the water, ready to fight off whatever had grabbed the kid. Instead, though, he simply found the kid struggling against their own wings. The downy feathers had taken on water weight and was dragging them down.

He pushed himself forward and grabbed the child in his arms. He dragged them both back to the shore and settled Aris on the shore. Their wings would be covered in dirt, but he was more focused with the fact that they weren't breathing.

He threw himself against their chest, trying to force the water out. His hands desperately pressed against them, trying to force the water out and air in. After a few, nerve-wracking moments, Aris gasped with desperate air starvation.

"Fallon…?"

He pulled them closer, cradling them in his arms. "Hey… hey, what happened? Did something get you?"

Aris shook their head, face screwed up and nervous.

"…No…"

Fallon frowned. "What happened?"

"I… I got too far. I got stuck…"

"How—? How does that happen? There's no real tide here to pull you away."

Aris's face screwed up, flush from choking, but also a hint of embarrassment and anger.

"I can't… I can't swim."

Fallon blinked, the words processing in his head. He felt fear and frustration welling up inside him.

"What were you thinking, going into the water if you couldn't swim!"

Aris shrunk down. "I— I didn't meet to go so far out! I just… didn't notice. And then my wings got wet and I couldn't get back up!"

Fallon couldn't help but frown. He didn't understand how a kid Aris's age didn't know how to swim. But then… the dark, horrible thought broke through.

Aris's mother wouldn't have known how to teach her changeling child to swim around wings, and their father traveled often to buy supplies and sell their crafts. Would he have even had a chance to teach them before now? And it's not like he could anymore. He was…

Fallon pulled Aris closer. "It's okay, I'm sorry. We'll… we'll figure out a way to teach you. I'm just glad you're okay."

He just held them closer as they cried into his chest.

[oztomic]

Fractured

@ailesswhumptober Day 8 Alt 7: Memory Trigger

Teen | 584 words

Fandom: D&D (Original Writing)

Tags: Instrospection, Missing Scene, Scene Rewrite

TWs: Bugs, Allusions to gore, Depersonalization

AN: The best part about Vio is that she's so ripe for whump. I do such terrible things to her. Well, me and @impriceless. They're just as guilty as I am.

Vio's memory had always been… strange. She was built in the image of another, and had matching memories of a sort. They were strange, cobbled together things; mixing Viola's perspective with Virnan's recollection of events. But there had always been the lingering phantom of Viola. Yet, never as literal as it had become in recent days.

The revelation that Viola had been hard, but what was even harder were the sudden bursts of memories she knew were not hers, yet felt so real. They had started simple enough: memories of books she had never read, flashes of horrifying events that had never happened, feelings she had never felt towards people she both knew and had never met.

But then the more insidious ones began to emerge. The traumas she never went through, but now haunted her. The fear and anger she had never experienced, but now ached deep in her core. She just wanted it to stop.

Vio tried her best to push them away, but there was only so much she could do to fight against her own body, her own mind. Throwing herself into her work helped, but sometimes, it just left her more vulnerable.

In the druid camp, Vio knelt down beside the door, trying to figure out a way to open it. When Kasamir offered his Knock spell, she glared at him—mostly playfully, with just a bit of bite for not mentioning it earlier—and moved aside for him to cast it. Then, she swung the door open carefully.

Her body reacted before she could think. She was stumbling back from the room, which to the untrained observer was just a dark room. But she could see it.

Her vision blurred, shifting rapidly between two realities she couldn't discern from each other.

A room full of roiling insects, buzzing with decay and rot. A hidden camp full of magicless druids in a frozen hellscape.

A severed hand, calloused with years of musical experience, resting on a bed. Buzzing flies circling it. It had been there a while, waiting for her.

Vio didn't need to breathe, but some latent instinct drove her to the point of hyperventilation. Her chest heaved with every shaking breath she took. She could hear Kasamir's concerned voice and Sera's murmuring—feel the delightful, warm presence of Annie beside her—but none of it registered. She was still thrown between times, between identities.

One second, she was Vio, a warforged adventurer desperate to escape who she was made to be. The other, she was Viola, a young artist trying to avoid the shadow of her past. They were so similar, and yet so different.

And Vio hated her.

She had already had very complicated feelings about Viola before all of this, back when the woman just haunted her in a metaphorical sense. But now… she was haunted in a literal sense by the woman's spirit.

As the visions started to clear and she was left staring at the dark doorway of the cabin, Vio glanced around her at the gathered crowd. Sera was confused, Kasamir was worried, and Annie… Annie was knelt at her side, waiting for her to return. It was hardly the first time this had happened, though Vio had never properly explained. She knew she would need to, but she just… couldn't bring herself to, yet.

She took a quick breath and pushed herself up.

"I'm… I'm alright."

Vio didn't need to look at the others to know that they didn't believe her.

[oztomic]

Lean on Me

@ailesswhumptober Day 11: Sleep deprivation

Teen | 347 words

Fandom: Z Nation

Tags: Pre-Canon, Relationship Building, Platonic Relationship, Zombie Apocalypse

TWs: Allusion to Familial Death

AN: This is probably one of my shorter pieces, and one of my looser interpretations of the prompt, but I like this piece, so enjoy!

It was strange to think about how little humans changed, even in apocalyptic situations. Ellie had still woken up feeling like she was late for school, even when zombies had overrun the city of Boston and surely destroyed her school in the process.

And now, ever since she had arrived at Camp Blue Sky, she had been struggling to sleep in the new location. Late at night often found her sat on the steps of her cabin, blanket wrapped around her shoulders, as she stared up at the stars.

She was deep enough in the camp that she wasn't on guard, and Ellie found herself jumping when a voice came from the side.

"It's nice that something didn't change after everything."

Ellie went scrambling for her knife, but relaxed when she saw the woman leaning against the railing. Ellie recognized her vaguely: Addy Carver, not much older than Ellie. Still, she had never really interacted with Addy.

"Huh?"

Addy nodded up towards the sky. "The stars. You were stargazing, right?"

Ellie nodded. "Yeah, I was… My uncle tried to teach me the constellations, but I… I never really got it."

Addy hummed. "I don't really know them, either. I was too busy with everything down here. But now…"

"Now, there's nothing to distract you," Ellie agreed.

"You're new here, right?" Addy changed the conversation, which Ellie was happy to allow.

"Yeah, I… where I was staying before ended badly, so I ended up here. We weren't that far, anyway."

Addy was watching her, likely connecting what she was saying with the fact that she had arrived at Camp alone. The older woman moved over and sat on the step next to her.

"It's… scary, to be alone in all this. I know you don't really know me, but if you ever need some help, just reach out. Me and my boyfriend, Mack, we'd be happy to be there for you."

Ellie wanted to be more standoffish, but she had been so alone ever since her mother and grandparents passed. It had been awful, and the horrible trek to Camp Blue Sky made it even worse. So she couldn't help but let herself melt a little at Addy's offering of comfort.

"I— thanks… Thanks, Addy."

[oztomic]

A Grave Mistake, Even the Fates can Make

@ailesswhumptober Day 9: Cassandra Truth

Teen | 651 words

Fandom: Original Work (ymad)

Tags: He/They Pronoun Character, Introspection, Character Study

TWs: Vague Depictions of Gore

AN: I love Marion. He is, as I called him to @alojzy-art: "my Cassandra truth baby".

Seers were not a common phenomenon. They tended to crop up among mages, especially magisters due to their proximity to spirits. Many scholars posited that the connection to spirits made Magisters the easiest connection to the mortal realm the Fates had.

Marion had long since learned the truth about seers: seers are chosen as the people to whom receiving visions would fuck up their life the most.

At least, that was how he saw it. Fates above knew that his life had been screwed from the moment he got his first vision. He tried his best to go about his life despite it, but often, things were brought to him he could not avoid.

Of course, visions had brought them good things, too. They had encouraged them to move near Lhiltwyn, where they had met Aris. And it had introduced them to the idea of Kieran as king. The vision they had received suggested that it would lead to a better future for all of them.

So Marion had worked. He struggled and he fought to see Kieran on the throne. He spent late nights planning and crafting spells with Aris by his side. He gathered around campfires with the group, laughing and drinking.

And then the second vision came.

They woke late at night, feeling the buzz in the back of their head that always started before a vision. Taking a deep breath, they tried to settle enough that the vision didn't horribly unsettle them when it finally happened.

Visions weren't painful, per say, but they were certainly jarring and uncomfortable. His body was suddenly not his own, serving as a conduit to greater powers he could never hope to understand.

Rarely did Marion see clear visions of the future. More commonly, it was flashes and feelings. Maybe the occasional sound. Kieran's name had been a sound. It had rung out from the vision like a temple bell.

But this time—as if some sort of sick joke—Marion saw clearly what the vision showed him, as if he was right there.

They were stood in the throne room of the castle; at least, that's what it seemed to be. But Marion wasn't alone. Cast out on the floor—like trash—was Aris. They looked… different. They were scarred and disfigured, covered in burns and poorly healed wounds, and everything about them seemed… darker. They were glaring up, spite and malice burning in their eyes like dying coals.

And looking above them was Kieran. The man had changed even more than Aris had. The once jovial man was now sneering, staring down at Aris with something that resembled love in only the most distant sense. The crown was upon his head, but it was a twisted thing, plunging into his skull and curling up in terrible, steel spires.

Aris gasped, trying to pull themself up. It was only as one of their wings fluttered uselessly that Marion's brain finally registered the gorey wound where the other had once been.

"You… bastard," they gasped out. "You're worse than Gereon…"

Kieran tutted, crouching down and grabbing Aris's chin. "Oh, Aris… Don't you remember? I'm the future of the kingdom."

Marion's own words coming out of the monster's mouth launched them out of the vision, gasping and clawing at their face. Their heart raced. Surely, it couldn't be true. But then again, when had one of their visions been wrong? Had they misinterpreted the previous vision? Had they screwed everything up?

As gentle tears poured from his eyes, he sat in bed, feeling utterly defeated. Kieran—the one Marion knew, the one he now knew would turn into the monster in his vision—was a charismatic, friendly, if a bit naive, man. No one would believe him if he said that Kieran would turn into that.

Worst of all, Marion barely believed it himself, and he had seen it with his own eyes.

[seaside-sadnesss]

Commission for pinkhairedweirdo of their OC Otomic!

[justajuggla-blog-blog]

Year 1/ Year 3