olliestcne

[olliestcne]

TITLE: CALAMITOUS LOVE AND INSURMOUNTABLE GRIEF. SETTING: John and Sharon Stone’s residence aka Oliver’s childhood home. DATE: August 27th, 2020. PREMISE: John Stone has something important to tell his three children and his wife. TRIGGER WARNINGS: DEATH AND CANCER.

Death has never been a thing Oliver has fully comprehended. Everyone in his family was present and beaming, oozing a kind of everlasting life that most would beg for. Sure, his grandfather died when he was young, but that to him always seemed inevitable. When you’re old, you pass. You go somewhere nice as you’ve lived a full, happy existence. That’s as far as Oliver’s brain can manage the concept of death or loss. It was simple. Simple but naive.

He gets a text from his father early in the morning. Something about a family meeting. Urgent. Oliver takes it with a grain of salt, as do his siblings, as usually it’s about where they were going to go next as a family and what they were going to get mom for Christmas because she was a kind but picky woman.

Oliver shows up at around 5pm.

“I already got mom the little Pandora bracelet last year. I can get more charms. She likes those, right?” Oliver says upon arrival, plopping down onto the armchair in the living room. It smelled like his father and always has. This entire home smelled like his childhood. Like his mother’s favorite vanilla lotion, like the smell of popcorn on family movie nights. He would feel empty without this space, that much was certain.

Charlotte, John and Sharon’s youngest, barks out a laugh. “No way. We need to step it up this year. Maybe some diamond earrings.” Charlotte had just given birth three months ago, her husband was home with the baby. A new little bundle of joy welcomed into the Stone family. They couldn’t be happier. 

Thomas, John and Sharon’s oldest, arrives right after Oliver, tossing his coat on the back of the couch. He circles into the kitchen and grabs a water for himself before sitting down beside Charlotte. “Dad already got her diamond earrings for a birthday one year. That’s weak, Char.” He says, unscrewing the cap to his water and taking a generous sip.

“Where are they? Are they late to their own family meeting?” Oliver says, leaning over the arm of the chair into the hallway just behind him. “Hello! Your children are here!” Oliver, forever suffering from middle child syndrome, was always dramatic. Looking for attention. Hence the theatrics.

Sharon walks in nervously then, her expression fallen. This alone was jarring, especially since they were the most chipper family known to man. Yet, Oliver tries not to jump to conclusions. His mother was always the harder of the two, coming from a bad childhood and a family who basically disowned her. She was a survivor, a warrior. There was nothing to worry about.

But, then comes John, seeming tired and, of course, nervous. Just as Sharon. The living room goes a little silent, none of them expecting such a strange and unsettling entrance from their parents. Charlotte’s brows furrow, watching as her parents sit on the other couch located beside the fireplace. “What’s...going on?” She asks, knowing Oliver and Thomas were thinking the same thing.

Oliver suddenly feels the rhythm of his heart increase. He has to swallow hard to contain himself. He was already dealing with a plethora of problems within his marriage, he didn’t need more. What could this be? Were they just messing with them?

“You’re getting divorced, aren’t you? Is that it?” Oliver says on the brink of tears already, nervously balling his hands into fists. “Oh my God, you’re getting divorced. Oh my God...I guess one of you can stay with me and Eli for a while and I-” Always dramatic, this one. 

Sharon shakes her head, reaching her hands out, “No, baby, no.” She says, interrupting him before he falls into the deep end. “We’re not, never.”

Thomas, always the more noble of his siblings, sits back, preparing for what’s about to happen. They all know it’s not good but it’s as if Thomas was in the front of the trenches, protecting his siblings from impending doom. 

“Your father has something to tell us. I don’t even know, actually...” Sharon says, earning  a strange sound to come from Charlotte. It’s a noise of shock and confusion, all four of them now looking to John. 

A few moments pass. Nothing comes. Nothing comes until it does.

“I have lung cancer. Stage four.” John rips the bandage off and creates a new wound. The room goes so silent you could hear a pin drop. It earns a ringing to sound in Oliver’s ears. His eyes dart back and forth between his mother and his father. John’s expression remains still. Tired, sad. And Sharon looks shocked into silence, just as her children.

“You —” Thomas says, being the first one brave enough to break the silence that blankets them. “When did you —” He’s holding back, Oliver and Charlotte can tell. It was odd to see their older brother struck like this. Usually, he was their protector, someone they can go to when things were tough. But, they were all in this together now, sprung into a state of confusion and hurt.

It’s then Oliver realizes he’s started crying, hot tears silently streaming down his face. This can’t be happening, is the first thought that pops into his head, this can’t be fucking happening.

“We — Well, we have to get treatment. We have the money, we can —”

“No,” John says, interrupting his wife. Sharon is instantly taken back by this, eyebrows knitting together in a way Oliver has never, ever seen before. 

But then he registers what his father just said. No. No? He wasn’t getting treatment? This can’t fucking be happening.

“What do you mean no?” Oliver says, or perhaps spews, out. He doesn’t mean to sound harsh but it all comes spilling out of him. It doesn’t pair well with the state of his face, decorated with tears still streaming from his blue eyes. Charlotte’s begun to cry too, silently, just like Oliver. Her breath hitches for a moment before her face is buried in her hands. This was something she did even as a child, a way to calm herself when she became anxious. Their mother would usually rub her back then or sing to her when this happened. But, now, Sharon couldn’t do a damn thing but stare into the face of her husband. 

“I don’t want you guys to see me like that. Losing my hair, throwing up. I want to go as I am now. As a man who loves his family.” John, understandably, gets choked up as he speaks. John Stone doesn’t want to die, but he doesn’t want his dignity stripped from him either. Oliver wasn’t aware that his father was such a prideful man until now. Something about that earns pain to surge throughout his body. 

That same silence blankets them once more, each of them too rattled to say a damn thing. Oliver feels as though a scream is perched just under his chin, a combination of sorrow and anger beginning to brew inside his stomach. 

With that, something inside him swerves, like a car on ice. He loses track of his emotions and they go flying around his mind, everything all at once. “What the fuck?” He finally says, moving to stand, “You’re gonna just — you’re gonna just...die?” It’s not what he wants to say, not at all, but he can’t find the right words anymore. It earns a sob out of Charlotte, her head still in her hands. Thomas reaches over to touch her back. 

“Ollie, this is what I want. I know it’s hard, but...” John says, looking up at his son with glossy eyes. Oliver was still crying himself, his bottom lip quivering as he opens his mouth to speak. Nothing comes out, just a pathetic little breath. Sharon up and leaves the room and her children watch as she does so. Sharon Stone was not a crier. Never has been. She was the strongest and bravest woman Oliver has ever known. If anything was going to break her, it was this, and she still didn’t want the world to see her in that state. Oliver understood that.

Oliver looks to Thomas, who was also sporting glistening eyes, before allowing his gaze to land back on his father. “Can you say something, please? Our father’s lost his fucking mind.” Thomas sighs before speaking after Oliver, “You need to get treatment, dad. You can beat it.” Stage four was a hard thing to beat, they all knew that, but the Stone family has always been endlessly optimistic no matter what the circumstances were. 

John remains quiet.

Charlotte stands, grabbing her things and heading out the front door. It’s slammed behind her as she makes her way to her car, shaking as she shoves the keys into the ignition. Charlotte had never contemplated death either, that much was obvious. 

John’s head moves into his hands, rubbing over his tired face with his palms. Thomas looks down at the carpet, his body and face turning to marble. He was still, like a quiet sea. Meanwhile, Oliver was an ocean with violent waves. 

“I can’t believe this..” Oliver trails off, looking down at his shoes. Then to the carpet that was still the same from when he was a child. Everything was the same. Except for this. This feels like a nightmare in a perfect place that threatens to spoil everything. 

By a sudden stroke of impulse, Oliver inhales sharply and walks out too. He follows the same trail his sister left, slamming the front door behind him as he makes his way to his vehicle. He slams the car door too, looking out towards his childhood home one more time before pulling out of the driveway with tears in his eyes. In truth, he tries not to sob, though the lump in his throat was growing larger by the second. 

His hands tremble violently as they grip the steering wheel, eyes focused on the road as that sheltered sob finally rips through his throat. 

Oliver arrives him at 9pm. He had to stay late at work, he’ll say as an excuse. He kisses his daughter’s head, his son’s cheek, and his husband’s jaw as they sleep. He stays up for the rest of the evening into the morning, staring at the carpet in his living room. This wasn’t happening.

[olliestcne]

ELI STONE. 

“Wasn’t 20 questions supposed to go, like—I ask you a question about you, you answer, you ask me about me, I answer and so on? You’re a rule breaker, Stone,” Eli chuckles, the grin on his face wide and bright; he can’t help it. He lifts his hand to brush his fingers through Ollie’s hear, the other arm tightening around him. A million and one things pop into his head into that moment, though he very well knows that they could easily be summed up by an I love you. So he says it—sort of. His husband wants him to play along, so he will. 

“How much do I love you?” he asks then, canting his head to the side. The expression on his face is full of pride, of himself, for coming up with this, and adoration, for Ollie—but then it always is whenever he looks at him. Even when Eli’s face isn’t wrapped up in that smile of his, it’s in his eyes, the adoration, the love. “I’ll give you three guesses, babe, and a tip that a lot is not an answer I’m looking for.”

☼

“It can go however we want. We make the rules.” Oliver says cheekily, eyebrows wiggling. The pads of his fingers glide aimlessly around Eli’s cheek, smiling warmly. For a moment, he takes in his face, scanning his expression. Sometimes he feared he may never see him again. Or perhaps one day Eli will fade or become so lost inside his own head that he vanishes completely. Today, he was very present, smiling wide and bursting at the seams right in front of him. This calms Oliver’s endless clutter of nerves. 

The question makes him chuckle, looking out toward the dancefloor where strangers sway and mingle. “That’s a tricky one..” He whispers, looking back to Eli once more. He feels electric in the moment, like he could do anything. Usually, that was never a very good thing for someone like Oliver Stone as he was more prone to recklessness than some great divine. It doesn’t help that he was a little tipsy, which earns a reddened hue to cascade over his bearded cheeks. “More than your body can hold.” Oliver says then, leaning in closer to his husband. In truth, he doesn’t know if that’s the answer Eli was looking for, which relatively pains him. Reading Eli was hard these days, it seems, but at least his answer was sincere. It’s sincere because it’s how Oliver feels too. He loved Eli so much more than he’ll ever be able to comprehend. “Way, way, way more than anyone in the entire world.” He says, his tone picking up in pace.

Oliver giggles then, looking out to the small crowd once more. He gets a little distracted then, watching as the musician on the stage plays his shiny instrument. Then he leans over to kiss Eli again, then on his cheek, and then his jaw. “Let’s dance.” So much for 20 questions.

[olliestcne]

HALLEN KANE. 

It’s hard to believe that getting a visit from Oliver is for his benefit: the man is not only a husband, but a father: somewhere, in his part of town, there are people waiting for him to come home. And maybe Hallen’s always envied that about Oliver. And maybe, once, he thought he could be a part of that, even if it means being the person who takes it away from him.

“You don’t really mean that…” he says because it’s hard to believe, so he doesn’t believe it. Or maybe he just doesn’t know Oliver as well as he thinks he does. “You shouldn’t mean that, Oliver.”

(He says Oliver more than he needs to. It’s not like he needs to be specific when there’s only two of them in the conversation, but hearing Oliver in his own voice gives him assurance that he’s not just talking to a ghost on the other side of the door. )

“Oliver…”

And once more, he says it, like it’s the last he’s ever going to say it, or he promises himself something of the sort. After this, there should be no more. The door’s already closed, isn’t it?

But of course Oliver has to go and ask him that question. So stupid, so unnecessary. And he could refuse to answer because contrary to his beliefs, he does have a choice. He always has a choice: not to invite him for dinner, not to hold his hand. Not to speak to him, not to look at him, not to think about him. But isolation is a strange thing, and his aloneness—for what he thought was going to be for his own good and, judging by the way Oliver thinks the same of his company, of his being here, it never is—had only destroyed what’s left of the shapeless morass of a man that he calls Hallen.

Simply, he does not have an answer.

“Well… what do you want to be?” 

You don’t have to say anything.

“What do you want to be?” he repeats, biting into the words. He shifts on the floor so he can properly face the door, like it will make any difference. “You tell me that.” (Oliver.) “You tell me what you want. ‘cause I’m… I’m tired. Alright? I’m tired of thinking.”

☼

Perhaps Hallen, even within all of Oliver’s earnest attempts at believing otherwise, was bad company. Though Oliver’s reluctance to tear himself away from whatever sticks to their skin spoke volumes. Much louder than the sour nature that makes a home inside of Hallen, spewing like venom right in this direction.

So, what is it that he wants? The question leaves him with no words. Or maybe there were words but they remain trapped inside the cavern of his throat. It feels as though they actually may be perched under his chin, waiting to be unleashed into a quiet void, banging pots and pans and disrupting the silence there. 

“I mean it,” Is what he says next, with all the impulse he harbors. It’s a trembling confession, Oliver balancing on a less than steady tightrope right into the slim crevice between Hallen’s heart and his ribs. “Don’t fucking tell me what I don’t mean. You’ve done that enough, don’t you think?” Oliver’s own hostility sounds from him then, his tone swift and hard to comprehend. It’s tamer than Hallen’s though, coasting the line of violent desperation rather than malice. 

Blue eyes stare into the wood of the door, feeling like Hallen is pressed against him somehow despite this divide. For a moment, Oliver goes wide-eyed, never believing that this flaw inside him would see the light of day. His nails dig into the delicate flesh of his palm, a lackluster attempt at holding back the truth.

The image of himself flashes in his mind. A memory from years ago. A deeply saddened, exposed Oliver leaping from the walls, his house filled with plates and plates of pancakes. It was happening again. That feeling. His taste for ruining himself and all other things. Then, he realizes he hasn’t slept in ages. He didn’t need to. He was always awake. Running around. Risky. Reality was warped. 

“I want to be something you want.” It comes out strained, hoarse, like a knife against a plate. “I want to be the thing that ruined you.” The rhythmic thump of his heart grows chaotic then, the sound pumping prominently within his ears. “I want to be the thing you think about when you’re alone. Or lonely.”

[olliestcne]

CHERRY LANE. 

There is instant relief that floods her body when she finally manages to snag someone’s attention. She felt for while like maybe she was a ghost, unknowingly dead for hundreds of years trapped in some sort of endless cycle looking for her keys. The reason she couldn’t pass on, her unfinished business: lost keys. But thankfully that was not the case and someone finally didn’t see through her. However before she could even address the man, a sharp intake of breath makes her chest grown three sizes. “Well, hi there!” Cherry’s voice is bright and cheery, baby talk as she addresses the little bulldog that she’s nearly eye level with. “Aren’t you the prettiest puppy I’ve ever laid eyes on.” She’s careful as she offers out her hand for dog to sniff, her face breaking out in a grin as she looks up. A hand raises to shield her eyes as she looks up at the stranger finally.

“I think I’m in love with your dog.” She tells him honestly, a stern nod given as if this is the most important fact she’s ever told anyone. It’s only then that she comes to realize that he had offer to help her find her keys. “Oh – shit, yeah those.” The woman snorts a bit, having completely forgotten a moment why this entire conversation was happening, far too focused on his dog. It’s only then do Cherry’s eyes land on the outlandish blue key chain, the perfect counterpart to her own. Her mouth falls open in shock, before a hand comes up to cover it. “Are you fucking kidding me?” Cherry can’t help but hop up from where she was sitting, now almost eye level with the man. Though she’s distracted by the dangling key chain, laughing as her fingers reach out to touch the keychain lightly. “This is the best thing that’s every happened to me.” Cherry is almost in disbelief as she stares for a moment longer. “I think this means you’re my best friend now.” 

Cherry sends him a bright smile before watching as he easily picks up the dog and cradles her in his arms. “Thanks for helping me find my keys by the way. I’ve been looking for awhile and the locksmith won’t be here for a few hours.” Cherry bends over to pick up King, who seems very displeased he’s being removed from his sunbathing spot. It looked so easy for the stranger to pick up his dog, meanwhile her limp noodle of a cat seems to protest. Eventually she manages to get King into her arms, adjusting his yellow sweater. While it’s still warm, given the fact that he has no fur – she doesn’t want him to get a sun burn. “I know I lost them around here somewhere. It isn’t a far walk from work to my apartment.”

☼

For a moment, Oliver has to remind himself that he’s not dreaming. Someone like him was always seemingly out of place, right from the page of a book that nobody’s read. There was a certain loneliness that came along with being a one in a million kind of person. Over the top, too much to handle. He usually claims that this loneliness was welcomed and that he was happy to be unordinary and colorful beyond belief.

Yet, here he was, dumbfounded by the idea that this woman was just like him. It’s a little like lightning to his senses, electrifying all of his many, many emotions. He almost feels too emotional, like maybe he’s jumping the gun and his loneliness has become a catalyst to what might be a state of sudden denial. But, no, she leans her hand out for Dolly to sniff, and has the brightest smile and laugh he’s ever heard.

Before his emotions and shock get the best of him, Oliver snaps back into reality. He inhales deeply, attempting to collect himself once more. “I’m a lot to handle. If you’re going to be my best friend, you have to understand that I’m both obnoxious and annoying. Also gay. It’s one hell of a mix.” The man says, still holding up his keys, colorful keychains dangling from them along with his blue Croc. Oliver continues to hold onto Dolly, allowing her to get comfortable against his chest, as his eyes scan the concrete below them for a set of keys. 

He goes to speak again before gasping loudly, spotting something shiny in the distance. Oliver jogs over, going to pick up said shiny thing. “Shit, false alarm,” He says, holding up the item. It’s a gold keychain that says Ooh La La. “Oh my God, I love it. I’m keeping it.” He shoves it into his pocket before continuing his search. “This is a long shot, but do you think you maybe left them at home? I do that sometimes and I swore I brought them with me, like I always do, but I didn’t.”

[olliestcne]

STARTER FOR: @khalparekh​ LOCATION: Center for Psychology. SETTING: Afternoon.

Helping people is one of the only things keeping Oliver align these days. If you asked where the source of his impending doom was, he wouldn’t know how to answer, which frightens Oliver. You’d think that someone so in tune with human behavior would be able to decipher why he was feeling so scattered. But, no, here he was, clueless as ever.

Though, with an appointment on the horizon, he does what he can to ease into the day without any troubles. Once the time comes, he steps out of his office, smiling warmly over at Khalid, “Come on in, sorry for the wait,” Oliver says, nodding towards inside his office. He circles around his little desk, opening a drawer to retrieve his notepad and a pen. “So, how’re you feeling today?” He asks then, padding towards the armchair settled just across the couch Khalid usually sits on.

[olliestcne]

ADRIAN HENDRIX. 

There’s a man in his bed and Adrian doesn’t know his name. But he knows he woke up sore and naked, oddly relieved to find a condom discarded on the floor next to a pyramid of empty beer cans. At least someone had been responsible.

There’s a girl from the club asleep on his couch and Adrian can’t remember her name either. She’s been working there about a month and he’s sure he learned it at some point, but it’s completely gone now. There’s a wasteland on his coffee table. Scattered cigarette butts and ash from a knocked over ash tray, a graveyard of lighters and empty shot glasses, a powder dusted over the dark surface, embedded in the grooves of the wood. 

He chases three aspirin down his throat with what’s left in a beer bottle sitting on his kitchen table, a paperweight on the eviction notice he’d pulled off his door three days before. He isn’t surprised. Adrian can’t remember the last time he paid his rent. Six months ago, he’d managed to put his life firmly back on the rails. And it had only taken two weeks to knock it back off again. If he’s going to chase this particular rabbit through his endless depression, he’s going to need his apartment to himself. Is three in the afternoon too early to start poking around and making sure his anonymous houseguests are still breathing? If they have a plan to leave any time soon?

He puts his finger in front of the girl’s open mouth, relieved to find she’s still breathing. Experimentally, he lifts her hand up, but drops it when a knock on the door startles him. She doesn’t wake up.

He hadn’t even heard Oliver pull into his gravel driveway, and the sight of him, standing at his door startles Adrian. He knows what he looks like, he knows exactly what Oliver will think. He pulls his hoodie around his bare chest, covering a watercolor of mysterious bruises that cover his ribs. “Hey,” he says, stepping barefoot on the half-finished wooden porch and closing the door behind him. “What’s up?” He tries to make his voice sound normal, doing whatever he can to combat his bloodshot, sunken eyes.

☼

Bloodshot, sunken eyes. 

The sight makes Oliver’s insides twist and turn, a look of sudden sorrow gracing his expression. Though, the moment it comes, he does what he can to wipe it away before Adrian can see. By now, he understands that the last thing Adrian needs is for someone to pity him. Yet, a part of Oliver couldn’t help it. He loved this man so much, cared for him so much, seeing him hurt and struggling was like a punch to his chest.

With that, he leans in, wrapping Adrian into a warm, careful hug. He doesn’t squeeze no matter how much he wants to. His body feels frail and cold, reminisent to the years where Oliver would house Adrian during the peak of his addiction. Oliver tries not to let it get to him, even as tears prick at his eyes. He blinks them away when they threaten to fall, releasing a sigh which he believes will aid in him collecting himself once more.

“I was so worried,” He says, voice a little muffled by the hug. “I’m so happy you’re okay.” Though, was he okay? Oliver knows he’s struggling again, falling back into bad habits. But he knows well enough that Adrian doesn’t need to hear it from him. Not now, anyway. “I love you, you know that right?” The man says, rubbing at Adrian’s back. It might have been daunting to hear an I love you from Oliver right now, especially since their in person last conversation consisted of Adrian admitting that Oliver might have been the love of his life. The thought makes his face scrunch, guilt pooling within the pit of his stomach. 

When did things become this messed up?

Now the tears really fall. Quietly, thankfully. He reaches one free hand up to wipe at his face, still holding Adrian. “Are you okay? You know you can always stay with me and Eli, if you need to..” A shot in the dark, he knows that, but it was worth mentioning.

[olliestcne]

OLIVER STONE ... NOLA TASK 001.

What would deeply hurt your character’s feelings?

Everything hurts Oliver’s feelings. He’s a very sensitive being. Only small criticism or minor inconvenience can completely throw him off and deeply hurt his heart. It’s both a curse and a blessing. But, if anyone really wanted to hurt his feelings to the point of no return, being cruel to him about his mental health and struggles mentally are the tip of the iceberg for him. 

How does your character feel about their parents?

Oliver loves his parents with his entire heart and soul. He was lucky enough to grow up with endlessly supportive parents who love him unconditionally. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do for them and that feeling is returned.

When did your character feel completely loved and accepted?

Whenever he’s with his family. But, a specific occasion where Oliver felt completely and totally loved and accepted was probably his wedding day. There was never a time where Oliver felt more loved. The day was perfect from start to finish.

What would have to happen to make your character speak out, or, defend a stranger, in public?

Any kind of injustice against another person. Oliver hates ignorance as he’s been a victim of blatant ignorance his entire life. At the smallest sign of prejudice against another human, Oliver will step in almost instantly. 

What do they lie about?

What goes on inside his head. Oliver has struggled with his mental health ever since he was very young and sometimes the thoughts that plow through him are alarming and filled with unscathed sorrow. He hasn’t figured out how to open up about these thoughts and feelings in a coherent way despite having studied their human brain and psychology most of his adult life.

Does your character need friends?

YES. Without friends, Oliver would crumble. He’s the kind of person who needs people around him all the time or else he’ll feel out of place and upset. Oliver is very dependent on others. They often cure how easily lonely and bored he comes when on his own. Welcomed solitude has never been something he’s good at and that will probably never changed.

Where were they born?

Here in New Orleans! His parents still own the home he grew up in and Oliver made sure to live close by once he settled down with Eli and their children.

What physical thing does your character fear most?

This is a pretty obscure physical fear, but Oliver is afraid of losing his hair. If he sees even a few strands of hair come out of his head, he completely spirals. Most of his family were blessed with full heads of hair but Oliver didn’t quite obtain that luxury. His hair is fine, it’s just not as full as the other men in his family which fueled his fear big time. 

If your character could choose to spend the day with one person (dead or alive), who would they choose?

His late grandfather. Oliver would want to spend time with him again and let him know how he’s doing. He’d also like to tell him that he ended up marrying Eli, especially since his grandfather always liked him.

What is their defining strength?

Kindness. No matter what, Oliver’s kindness will always shine through. He could be going through the worst of the worst and he’d still find the time to be kind to others and the ones that he loves. Sometimes it’s borderline selfless how kind he can be, but he never regrets it. 

What makes them happy?

People. Helping others. His husband and their two children. Basically any kind of genuine and heartfelt interactions makes Oliver so happy. He loves having an impact on people and others having an impact on him. People mean the world to Oliver. Helping them especially brings him so much happiness which is why he’s a psychologist. 

Are they able to work for someone else?

Not really. Oliver, despite his issues with depending on others, is very independent in regards to his passions and drive. When it comes to work and creativity, he needs to figure that out on his own. He needs to walk to the beat of his own drum or he might drown in his sorrow. He doesn’t enjoy being conventional and never has. So, the idea of working for someone else makes his skin crawl. 

Does your character have a positive or negative image of themselves?

In between, but sometimes it leans more negative. You’d think that someone like Oliver might simply adore themselves, but it’s quite the opposite most days. Oliver deeply feels that he might be too much. A firework of a human. Some days he loves that about himself and then others he feels completely isolated, alone within his own thinking and behavior. When insecure, he has a tendency to overcompensate and become way too much to handle, which becomes obvious in moments of sudden insecurity. 

Who, or what, would your character die for?

Oliver would die for the people he loves, especially his family. If there’s anything that means the most to Oliver, it’s loving and being loved in return. He cares so much for the people in his life and would do anything for them. Anything. He means that with everything inside him. 

Does your character have a plan for tomorrow? Next week? Next year?

Not really. Oliver is a kind of get up and go kind of person. He enjoys being nonchalant and unconventional. It gives him purpose, despite the insecurity it brings from time to time. Not knowing what comes next keeps him going and he needs that kind of random process in order to survive and feel okay.

Is your character resilient enough to change?

Yes and no. While Oliver is a deeply sensitive person, he’s learned to be okay with change. In fact, he craves it. Change is another thing that keeps him going. While he struggles with the idea of changing internally, growing up, and re-figuring parts of his over the top personality, other lifestyle changes keep him grounded. 

[olliestcne]

HALLEN KANE. 

If he continues not to look, it’ll feel just like Oliver is sitting right next to him. It’ll feel just like a sidewalk outside a breakfast inn. Not that he’s earned that proximity; it must only be that the other man’s company in the past year has provided him with comfort even when he never asked for it and, currently, he’s not. Not wanting him, not wanting comfort. He’s trying to serve his sentence for a punishment befitting of his crime, a punishment that even he is not aware of yet, but somehow, it’s Oliver who is apologizing.

And he knows that the smart thing to do is not to accept. With any luck, and enough piercing silences, Oliver will just leave and they can end what should have never started. But a part of him had been convinced that it’s not entirely his fault, that he only reacted, and Oliver’s admission feels a lot like the vindication he needs to prove his innocence.

Except he’s not innocent. They were two adults, and though the messages were as dubious as the consent, both of them knew exactly what they were doing— Oliver knew he wanted to be wanted, and Hallen knew, even just for that moment (and for reasons still presently unclear to him) that he wanted Oliver. He may not deserve his apologies, but he damn well deserves an explanation. It’s only fair.

He absent-mindedly chips away at the paint on the door, just above the sliver of light passing underneath it. “You wanted attention… because you knew I wasn’t gonna give it to you.” When he lifts his gaze, he almost expects to see Oliver, and is almost disappointed when he doesn’t. He laughs until there’s nothing to laugh at. Ultimately, he feels sorry for himself and he feels sorry that Oliver has to sit out there and apologize for something he didn’t do.

“Listen, Ollie…” There’s a labored sigh from his side of the door. He pushes his forehead against the hard, wooden surface, eyes squeezed shut like it’s taking him more effort than necessary to speak. “What is this? Why are you- why are you really here?”

☼

It’s strange to hear his name come from Hallen in this way. Listen, Ollie. The sound makes his stomach turn like he’s eaten something bad and it needed to be extracted as soon as possible. Despite this feeling, he turns to the door, still sitting on the concrete. His fingers press into the pavement beneath him, poking at a pebble that resides inside a little crack. There’s an elongated silence then, Oliver a little lost for words. They were inside him somewhere, hiding mostly likely. He hunts for him in a quiet pursuit, away from Hallen and away from everyone else. 

It doesn’t feel as peaceful inside his brain anymore. Though, was it ever peaceful? It’s always been silent chaos, waiting to pop like a full balloon. Hallen held the needle, threatening to poke the delicate balloon. Now he’s just deflated pieces of rubber. 

“I don’t know,” Oliver finally says, his tone quiet. His brows furrow, a sincere sense of confusion washing over him. “I wanted to see you. I wanted — I wanted to make sure you were okay.” Because I ruin people. It’s what he truly wanted to say. It was the truth, really. Oliver Stone was like a virus, it seems. Everything around him turned to treasure but then, soon enough, it rusted. 

The man inhales then, his head lifting. He looks to the house beside Hallen’s, watching as a lamp is turned off inside. It was late, people were going to sleep. Something about that makes this moment feel even more intimate. It was just them, the moon, and a streetlamp. And also the door between them, but even that barely feels like anything. Hallen might as well have been right there. 

“What am I to you?” Oliver asks, gaze looking to the wooden door before him once more. Perhaps that’s why he was here. For the truth. Hallen had run off so soon. He had kissed him hard and with all his being and then ran. “I think I need to know.”

[olliestcne]

STARTER FOR: @adrianhendrixx LOCATION: Adrian’s home. SETTING: Afternoon.

Worried was an understatement. The last few weeks have been a whirlwind of stress and confusion. With the situation with Hallen and then Adrian vanishing from the face of the planet, Oliver feels lost. In some strange way, he feels as though he’s to blame. He’s beginning to feel that maybe he ruins people. Maybe, in hindsight, he was too much human. Too much to handle. He ruined people, he hurt them. He draws them in with all his color and light and they eventually explode like a dying star. The thought alone makes him misty eyed, shaky hands gripping the steering wheel as he heads to Adrian’s house.

He’s happy the man is back, of course, but that doesn’t quite shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong. Or something was going to go terribly wrong very soon. Oliver has to swallow hard in order to regain his composure once he’s parking out front, a sudden tiredness washing over him. He wanted things to be normal again. But, were they ever normal? By now, Oliver wasn’t so sure.

After a few moments of silent reflection, he leaves his car and heads toward Adrian’s front door. He knocks carefully on the fragile wood, taking a step back once he does so. Blue eyes look to the sad little fold-out lawn chairs propped up outside his home on the tiny porch. They make him sad. Oliver might have been too sensitive for his own good these days.

[olliestcne]

ELI STONE. 

For the first time in a while, Eli’s chest doesn’t feel heavy—having spent the last few weeks overthinking what he should do about the detective (if he should do anything at all), these days he just tries to…not. Ignoring the problem might potentially be worse than overthinking it every second of everyday but Eli needs a break. From worrying, from being angry about this, from trying to hide how he feels. He doesn’t have to hide tonight because he’s enjoying himself, he’s feeling happy, and it shows.

With his arm around his husband’s waist, Eli stares at the picture, a big smile on his face, the memory of that night alive and bright in his head. “Jesus, we look so young in this photo,” he chuckles. After Ollie presses his lips to his jaw, Eli leans in to kiss him properly—only stops when he can’t help the smile that can’t stay off his face for long. “Rainbow. And that’s a color, I don’t care what other people have to say,” he says, just before he laughs, loud and carefree. “Or green. You look good in green, you were literally the only person who looked good at Riley’s birthday party. Anyway, are you quizzing me? What do I get if I score enough points. Do I get to score you?” Eli chuckles, wiggling his eyebrows. 

☼

When he’s kissing him, that nervousness festering inside of Oliver begins to subside. It was always a little terrifying the impact Eli had over his mood. One glance, one kiss, one anything, and suddenly he’s okay. Settling into the world with ease once again. It feels strange to think that Eli now knew the fear he had in regards to their love. Now that the moment has passed, Oliver wanted to explain to his husband that he just wanted to keep it safe, that sometimes the feeling gets the best of him. His love. 

For now, he refrains, deciding a happy moment was in store for them instead of another profound conversation. So, he leans in close, nose brushing the tip of Eli’s. Rainbow. The second it leaves his mouth, Oliver chuckles. “You’re right. Five points.” He says teasingly in response, eyebrows arching upwards in amusement. The compliment earns a reddened hue to decorate his bearded cheeks, a swat of his hand coming next as if to shoo away the compliment. “Oh, please, you flatter me, Stone.” Oliver’s own laughter echos Eli’s, booming and warm. “We’re playing 20 questions. But like, a couple version. Come on, ask me something. Anything.”

[olliestcne]

O + E.

the sugar went straight to my brain. feel like a kid, i double tap my chest with my fist. i like you, say it back.                                    they sold me half full, they sold me half full. but I'll take the prequel, i will keep my ringmore rise.

@elistne

[olliestcne]

CHERRY LANE. 

starter: open

A bell jingles annoyingly with every step that is taken, though it’s hardly from the cat that’s restlessly waiting on the end of a leash waiting for his walk to continue. Instead it’s from the backpack that she’s digging through, jangling any time she shoves her hand into the brightly colored pack. Her knees hurt from the rough pavement that digs into the thin skin there. The furrowed brows are a clear sign that the woman is agitated and displeased with whatever the situation was. And the situation was something that was irritating Cherry. With a huff, Cherry zips the bag back up and slings it over her shoulder and stands. The backs of her hands come down to brush off pebbles off her knees. A displeased ‘murrrrph’ reminds Cherry that they are supposed to be walking and not searching for her keys. “Well, do you know where it is?” It’s clear that Cherry is indeed talking to the cat that hardly seems phased by the conversation at hand. “We’re gonna have to look for it and you’re going to have to deal with it. We walk where I want to walk.” Again the conversation is one sided and Cherry tugs softly on the leash. King, the cat, at least seems willing to follow in the direction that the woman wants to go. 

The search is seems to be fruitless. So now Cherry sits on the curb, hanging up her phone with a bit of sigh. The locksmith won’t be here for another few hours, so she really has to either keep looking or sit here and wait. King seems to be happy at least, laying out in the evening warm grass, eyes closed. The woman wonders how many more people could annoy with her question, but at least she can try. “Hey!” Cherry calls out, waving her hand above her head opening to catch someone’s attention. “Has anyone seen a set of keys with a bright pink croc keychain?” 

☼

“All I’m saying is there should be some kind of hype man at the Oscars. That award show is so boring..” Oliver says into his phone almost obnoxiously, allowing his bulldog, Dolly, to walk him instead of the other way around. She was quite a lazy dog, but always happy to bask in sunny days with a cool breeze. With August coming to an end, it seems the weather was finally beginning to ease up, which was welcomed. Oliver holds his phone up with one hand, the other one holding onto Dolly’s rainbow-colored leash firmly. “It would completely make it so much more fun. Like imagine this dude up there like —” He perks up, “When I said Bradley you say Cooper! Bradley! Then..you know, everyone in the crowd would say Cooper, and so on..” The man swats his hand as if that might further his point. 

Suddenly, as he’s about to talk some more, his thoughts are interrupted by a woman down onto the concrete. Dolly almost immediately attempts to approach her, too curious for her own good. So, with that, Oliver decides to follow, “I’ll call you back, Mom. Yeah. Okay. Yeah. Love you too. Bye.” He says into the phone before hanging out and shoving the device back into his pocket. Oh, she was also walking her cat. This was like magic. Oliver perks up even more.

“Hi, yes,” He says quickly upon her calling into the air, eyebrows arching upward in a curious fashion. “Oh, um, no, but I can help you find it.” Oliver then fishes his one keys out of his pocket, a blue Croc keychain dangling from them, “I have a Blue one. From my husband. It’s mostly an inside joke but I actually think they’re very comfortable.” The man moves to scoop up Dolly in his arms like a baby, “Let’s look, shall we? Pink Croc keychain. Noted.”

[olliestcne]

CONT ... @dcgtooth​

You shouldn’t be here.

In truth, he might have been right. But the impulse festering within Oliver would never die, even if he leaves it alone. It’ll always be there, a fatal reminder, living inside him. So, he comes, he comes and he stays. He plants himself on the concrete outside Hallen’s home and faces the street. He’s illuminated by only the moon and a streetlamp. One hand reaches up to loosen his tie again, now fully taking it off and letting it hang around his neck. He feels moist, damp. Sweaty. He probably was. It was warm out tonight, that was a given, yet he was sitting here.

“I know.” Oliver says to the air, though he knows Hallen will hear. Every part of him will hear it and it’ll swallow him whole as it always did. Oliver was a beastly thing these days, it seems. It’s as if he’s turned into some hungry monster with a jaw that unhinged, feasting on attention and doubt. “I wanted your attention. I don’t know why. But I did.” He says what he said to his husband, the same sentiment. The truth. It makes his skin crawl, little beads of sweat accumulating just along his neck and hairline. He wipes those areas with a gentle hand. “I told him that. Eli.” Oliver’s voice breaks at the mention of his husband’s name, obviously sensitive in regards to him. He fears things might never be the same. Maybe that was for the better. “He — He doesn’t tell me how he feels. About a lot of things. I guess I just — I just wanted someone to —” Putting it into words was difficult. Mostly because it was shine a light on one of Oliver’s most obscure desires. To be hurt. Does he feel he deserves it? Was it cynical? Even he didn’t know, hence the same that oozes from every word.

“I wanted to be hurt. I like when...people want me. I just want people to like me. I wanted you to like me. I’m sorry, Hallen.”

[olliestcne]

STARTER FOR: @blessmylight​ LOCATION: A local grocery store. SETTING: Afternoon.

Oliver Stone was the only person on the planet who would cut their hand on a jar of pickles. He had dropped the damn thing, earning a shard of glass to come flying back at his hand. He yelped so loud you could hear it from a couple aisles away.Thankfully, someone’s come to his rescue. “Jesus, fuck, ow!” He spews out again, eyes narrowing. “Are you really a paramedic or are you lying? ‘Cause that’d be messed up and I’m married.” A part of him is joking, of course, which is something he did when he was in a state of panic. He hisses again, face scrunching from the pain. “Oh, God, it smells like pickles and blood. Gross. This is the worst, this is the worst.” Rough laughter escapes him, “Do you think a vampire would enjoy this? I think so.”

[olliestcne]

LIZ STONE & ELI STONE. 

Starter for: @olliestcne & @elistne​

Liz hoped that she did not wake Riley the moment that she yelled when she had finally won a round of cards. She nearly slammed the cards on the table, a soft thud sounding as she did so. She grew rather suspicious of the men on the table, however, because they both knew that she was a terrible loser and that if she lost game after game, she would be in a terrible mood. “You two aren’t letting me winning on purpose, are you?”

☼

Poker was on a long list of things that Oliver will never understand. While they play, he has a little guide up on his phone to make sure he doesn’t miss out on a win. So far, he’s losing, which was rare for him. He was usually good at everything and annoyingly so. But, cards is where he greatly lacks. “No way! Are you kidding? Not my competitive ass..” Oliver says, staring down at his cards. “I want a royal flush that one sounds like fun. I keep getting fours. Oh my God, do you think that’s my like, angel number? I keep seeing it everywhere. Maybe that’s the day I die..” 

@elistne​

[olliestcne]

STARTER FOR: @elistne​ LOCATION: The Alley Jazz Club. SETTING: Evening.

The sky was dark and warm, the kind that made Oliver a little brooding. Times were strange, to say the least. Oliver and Eli were just hoisting themselves out of a pool of confusion within their marriage. You couldn’t blame them. What does a couple do when another man kisses your husband? There was no guideline to this. No lifestyle book on the planet. So, they do what they can to take it with grace, all while attempting to spend time together to ease the ache from what happened. 

“I can’t believe they still have that,” Oliver says, leaning into Eli, one hand moving outward to point to the picture of them located on the wall. It’s from years ago, from a time where they insisted they were just friends. They had the other copy on their fridge back at home, where it’s always been. Blue eyes avert to look at his husband then, scanning the side of his face. Oliver plants a kiss to his bearded jaw, the hairs there feeling like static. Lately, Oliver couldn’t quite read Eli, which was prominently daunting. Usually, they were always on the same page, able to communicate with only a glance or a nod. He hopes he’s not thinking about their conversation in the hotel. The one where Oliver admitted to wanting attention. The thought makes his skin crawl and his palms moist. “Hey, what’s my favorite color?” The psychologist asks suddenly, spinning the subject elsewhere. Nothing like a game of 20 questions between lovers.

[olliestcne]

I’d like to get to the end of my personality and just lie in the sun.

Carrie Fisher.