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thedo0zyslider · 4 months ago

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New World, Same Old Us - 9K Words

In which a Sheriff falls in love with the first ever criminal he catches, and Oli can't help but fall for the man over and over again.

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Jimmy’s life changes one day, when he’s following behind fWhip. His deputy is leading him through the winding streets of gobland, rambling on and on about the very first criminal he had caught. The Sheriff was trying to listen to what his deputy was saying, he really was, but it was hard to focus on words when he had to dodge goblin after goblin wherever he stepped. They were just so small! He wasn’t used to looking that far down when walking! Or used to looking out for stray and moving tails!

They made their way to where Goblands admittedly unconventional prison was, the Sheriff muttering dozens of apologies and excuse mes as he moved throughout the empire. The citizens seemed to take all that in stride though, giving him kind smiles whenever he misstepped and greeting both the blonde and their emperor. He’s glad they seemed to like him so much, or else trying to navigate through a world that’s way too small for him would’ve been a lot more challenging than it already was.

The prison hangs above a rather large drop, once certainly long enough to kill a man. Or severely injures him, at the very least. And that’s not even mentioning the sculk pulsing threateningly on the cave floor below, and any shriekers and sensors that might be hiding between the stones. fWhip had said, had promised to him and fiercely insisted that there wasn’t a trap door at the bottom of the cage when the Sheriff asked about it, or a hidden lever anywhere nearby, just Jimmy still wasn’t a hundred percent convinced on that.

There is a man inside the prison now, inside the cage that had been empty before. That must be their very first criminal then. Well, their very first captured one, Jimmy concludes rather obviously to himself. Said criminal is hunched in the corner, his back to them. He faces the cavern floor below, presumably staring down at it. Jimmy wonders why anyone would stare at their potential doom like that, and assumes he must be losing his mind in the cage.

“Hey! Turn around!” fWhip calls out as they approach, skittering down the path in excitement. Like a child running to a playground. Jimmy follows behind him, opting for a more casual stroll than his deputy. His deputy, who’s rather too enthusiastic about locking people in cages and punishing them for the Sheriff’s liking. But maybe goblins were just weird like that, he didn’t know. Or maybe fWhip was just weird.

At the goblin’s call the man in the cage lifts his head, and turns to face the two of them. Surprise shows on his face when he sees the Sheriff, and it is quickly replaced by dread. He must’ve been told all about what would happen to him when the Sheriff got here, knowing fWhip and how he tended to ramble. Jimmy can only wonder what this guy was told, and hoped it didn’t make too bad of an impression. But he fears it did anyway.

The man says nothing at first, just turns until his body is facing them. He’s in quite the weird outfit, a white undershirt with a more floral, bright pink one over it; and shorts. With sandals to top it all off, for some reason. His hair is dyed blonde as well, the natural brown color already starting to seep back in. His hair desperately needs a redying, because it does not look good right now. And that’s not even mentioning how unkempt it is. Though Jimmy imagines he would look pretty dashing when it’s properly taken care of…

The man locks eyes with Jimmy as the Sheriff approaches, and then quickly adverts his eyes to the cage’s floor. The Sheriff, on the other hand, keeps staring as he comes to a stop in front of the prison. He feels more than a little mesmerized right now, barely noticing the proud and affectionate look fWhip shoots at him. This prisoner, despite (or maybe in spite of) the roughed up appearance, is the most beautiful man Jimmy’s ever goddamn seen. And he’s friends with Scott and Sausage , for christs sake. Horrible thing to think while standing next to your deputy slash situationship, by the way; but he can’t really help it.

“So Sheriff, what are we gonna do with this thief!?” fWhip says, blue eyes boring into the Sheriff. He looks at him expectantly, like he wants praise for catching their very first criminal. Jimmy, who's still pulling himself away from thoughts of another man, is not going to give it to him. He will not praise the goblin for doing his damn job. “Thief?” He says, surprised, and glances down at the goblin next to him. He doesn’t remember anything about this guy being a thief (even if he does have the face for thievery,) only that he had done something to wrong Gobland and fWhip. Which felt like it could be anything from stealing a bunch of gold to saying a word wrong; with how flippant his deputy could be.

“Were you not listening on the way over here?” fWhip frowns, and his tail flicks in irritation behind him. Jimmy resists the urge to roll his eyes. He hates when his deputy looks at him like that. But he ignores that for now, and pushes the annoyance down. They can deal with all their other emotions later, after the prisoner is settled.

“I was trying not to step on any goblins.” He explains, placing a hand on his hip. The gesture feels a lot sassier than intended, but that only helps get his point across more. In Jimmy’s mind at least. Even if he has to ignore the quick and absolutely unpleasant look fWhip gives him to reach that conclusion. Just another thing to worry about later.

“Well you —whatever.” fWhip cuts himself off with a frustrated huff, and pinches the bridge of his nose. Like he has anything to be stressed about right now. “Remember that sign? In the ancient city? The one that tipped me off to everything being looted? That was him! He stole from Gobland’s ancient city!”

“Gobland wasn’t even here when I stole all that!” The prisoner speaks up, his voice full of indignation. He also sounds tired, probably for a variety of reasons.Being trapped (and probably starved in a cage, because the Sheriff has yet to remind his deputy of ethical imprisonment,) will do that to a person. Jimmy can’t help but think the blonde’s voice is like heaven on the ears, even if it is all worn out and weak. The Sheriff is so wrapped up in that thought, and other similar ones, he barely hears the argument going on around him. “This was just an empty cave!”

“Likely story!” fWhip snorts, narrowing his eyes at the other man. The prisoner makes an equally rude retort in response, which fWhip just has to match with his own insult. Because of course he does. And then the blonde man responds again, and then so on and so forth until a conversation the Sheriff cannot bring himself to care about is going on. Even if half of it is his deputy having rather sad insults thrown his way.

The argument continues around him, but Jimmy barely listens to it. He doesn’t want too anyways, it would probably just annoy him more than anything. Instead, he spends that minute or so thinking about what he wants to do with this prisoner. Though, it’s not really a hard conclusion to come too. The Sheriff had made his mind up the moment he’d set eyes on the man, really.

“Let him go.” Jimmy says, crossing his arms over his chest decisively. The two men next to him stop bickering, both falling into a stunned silence at his words. The prisoner, who;s name he still has not gotten, looks at him in utter disbelief. There’s some hope mixed in there as well, Jimmy notes, and that makes his heart swell. His deputy just stares at him, shocked and mouth hanging open, before he absolutely explodes .

“What!?” fWhip yells out, his blue eyes burning with something akin to betrayal. Jimmy does not feel like he just betrayed his deputy. He actually feels like he did the right thing, when he had been so nervous of doing the wrong thing. It makes whatever betrayal is in his deputy's eye feel like nothing to him. “Sheriff, he stole from Gobland!”

“Was it really Gobland if you hadn’t settled here yet?” The blonde looks back at his deputy, eyebrow raised. In the cage, the prisoner just smirked in triumph. It seemed he’d been arguing that point for a while now, and hearing someone else share it must be nice. Especially with how stubborn and set in his little goblin way fWhip tended to be.

“I-” His deputy stumbles over his words, clearly dumbfounded. Yet he keep protesting regardless, even when it is two on one. Even when the odds are stacked against him, and he is clearly not winning this argument. Stubborn and annoying, just like the Sheriff had been saying to himself for months now. “That’s not the point! ”

“Let him go, fWhip.” Jimmy says, his tone stern. He does not feel like arguing with fWhip anymore, especially not over this. He’d already made up his mind, and that was that. He was the Sheriff , and fWhip was just a deputy . The Sheriff’s word was always final . “That’s an order .”

(In the cage in front of them, Oli feels himself go a bit red. He was glad neither emperor was looking at him when it did, because woah. He liked a commanding voice more than he thought he did! Which he didn’t think he liked that at all. Interesting discovery that was..)

“ Fine.” The goblin huffs, a pout starting to form on his face. Jimmy thinks he looks like a petulant child, sulking after they didn’t get what they wanted. But he resisted frowning at that, not wanting to make things worse. Or incite another argument. So instead he places his hand on fWhip’s shoulder again, and makes his hold firmer than before. He ignores fWhip after that, and the way the goblin stiffens under the touch near instantly.

“There’s a good deputy!” He purrs, mostly to himself. The Sheriff flicks his gaze back towards their prisoner as he speaks, his attention solely focused on him. The lingering pink-tint on the man’s cheeks does not escape him, and he wonders what all that’s about. One of the many questions he’ll have to ask later, it seems. “Now, prisoner, what’s your name? If you’ve got one, that is.”

“The name’s Oli, dear Sheriff.” The prisoner says, lifting his head to get a better look at the Sheriff. His eyes are a nice brown color, Jimmy has to admit. They’re nice to look at, and probably even nicer to get lost in. fWhip is absolutely radiating with emotion beside him, and none of them are the positive king. Jimmy just decides to ignore him until he starts speaking again, which ends up happening a lot sooner than expected.

“He sings a lot.” The goblin remarks, his tone a lot less cheerful than it was before. He even sounds annoyed by the fact, like Oli singing had been an annoying thing about him. The Sheriff couldn’t begin to imagine why, because he was sure this man had a lovely voice. The Sheriff also hadn’t purposefully been kept awake all night by loud, echoing singing in the caves, because Oli learned it annoyed fWhip and then started to do it out of spite. And also to keep his sanity intact while he rotted in a cage, that was also a factor.

“Does he now?” Jimmy hums, probably more happy about that information than fWhip had wanted him to be. A good singer was never a bad thing to have, especially one as dashing and good looking as the man in front of him. This guy could certainly earn quite a bit of cash if he just went around performing. “Well, he’d be perfect for a tavern.”

“Not mine.” fWhip’s pout seems to get even worse as he speaks, and he glares daggers at the bard in the cage. Like he had done something other than steal what the goblin thought he was entitled to. The goblin was not entitled to anything at all, in the Sheriff’s humble opinion. Even if he thought he was. He wasn’t entitled to anything other than the kingdom that had been given to him, and nothing more than that.

Oli protests their words with a loud squawk, flailing his arms in protest as well. For some extra flare and emphasis, of course. “I’m not a bard, though!” He shouts, voice rising higher than intended. The Sheriff cringes a little at his volume, but doesn’t really mind it. It’s certainly better on the ears than when his deputy sounds all squeaky, that’s for sure.

“You are now! The Sheriff said so!” fWhip taunts, sticking his tongue out at the other man teasingly. But it;s not a friendly kind of tease, that’s for certain. The blonde in the cage glares at him, one that’s sharp and unfriendly. His deputy returns it with a similarly nasty look, and probably has a retort just as nasty prepared and ready.

“Let him go now, fWhip,” Jimmy says, sensing the need to step in before Oli can respond. Lest this turn into another argument again. He thinks if he just doesn’t do anything, the two of them could stand here and fight all day long and then some. Which exhausts him to just think about. “You had something else to show me, didn’t you?”

“Oh, yes, I did!” The goblin’s tone gets a bit cheerier than it had been, now that he had something else to think about other than the personal betrayal Jimmy had supposedly committed. Good, it was always great when he wasn’t being grumpy. fWhip fishes the cage’s key out of his pocket without another word, and reaches forward to unlock the thing. Oli just stares at it, dumbfounded, and like he can’t believe he’s free.

After that, The Sheriff praises his deputy again, and then turns away. He says he’s going back up the path, wanting to get a move on. He needs to be home before sunset, Tumble Town’s latest bandit problem keeping him from being gone all day and spending the night in Gobland like he would normally do on a visit, fWhip just nods in response, and says he’ll show him that other thing in just a minute. Right after he points Oli towards the exit of course!

Jimmy leaves the two of them with a happy smile, the spurs on his boots clinking across the ground as he retreats. His deputy wastes no time, and as soon as the Sheriff is out of hearing range, yanks the bard forward menacingly. Oli, who was still in the process of stepping out of the cage, has to fumble forward, desperately grabbing for purchase on the shorter man’s shoulder. If he hadn’t done that, there was a very likely chance he would’ve fallen into the deep dark below, and it all would’ve been over from there. But it’s kinda hard to dwell on that near death experience for long, especially when your captor is yelling in your face right after it.

“The Sheriff might’ve let you go, but you still owe me five hundred diamonds.” fWhip hisses, grabbing Oli’s arm before he can fall; somehow both saving and dooming him all at once. He digs his claws into the bard’s skin, causing him to yelp. It’s not enough force to draw blood, but it’s certainly enough to bruise. For someone so short, he’s surprisingly strong!

“Five hundred!?” He exclaims, struggling against the hold on his wrist. It only makes it hurt worse, and Oli lets out a yelp despite himself. fWhip seems to relish in the sound, and claps his hand down harder. “That’s too bloody many!”

“It's equivalent to how much treasure you stole. ” The goblin snaps, and seems to resist racking him with his claws. He glares at Oli with more vitriol than he had when they first met, clearly upset by something he had done. Which was weird because he hadn;t done anything but sit in a cage! For two weeks he’d just sat and starved in a cage!

“I was literally here first! ” Oli says, like he’s been saying and protesting for weeks now. It doesn’t matter how many times he argues and reasons with the goblin, or how much sense he makes, the bard has yet to get through his thick skull. And even now, as he’s leaving jail and it barely matters anymore, he feels hopeless that he’s never going too.

Something, something that Oli later figures out is jealousy, gleams in fWhip’s eyes as he lets go of his arm. The blonde snatches it closer to his body, wincing in pain when he goes to rub at the injury. “Well I don’t care!” Gobland’s ruler snaps, turning his back on his former prisoner. He starts going up the path again, leaving Oli behind with one last yell. “Just get out of my empire and get me my diamonds!”

Oli watches the man leave in stunned silence, rubbing his still aching wrist as he goes. He doesn’t really know what just happened, his brain only processing that he’s finally out of the cage. He’s standing on stable ground for the first time in over fourteen days. fWhip had said to get out, but his legs barely feel like they used too from all his recent inaction, (He certainly won’t be getting him those diamonds though, that’s for sure. Even if he can walk again soon.)

He watches as fWhip scurries after Jimmy, jumping on parts of buildings and whatever else he can until they’re eye level. When they are, the Sheriff rolls his eyes fondly, and accepts the kiss he is given. The goblin seems to smirk triumphantly at that, and then they continue walking away from the prison, until they are just figures lost in the city's neverending crowd. That kiss was deliberate. That kiss was supposed to send Oli a message.

And it sent one alright, but probably not the one fWhip had wanted.

_____________________________

Oli is there when Fwhip and the Sheriff break up. So are Scott, Gem, and Sausage. It is a rather awkward ordeal. It is also a rather quick ordeal, and a situation everyone leaves right afterwards because holy fuck what the hell was that. If the situation had been more nuanced than it was (read: two people being equally shitty to each other), and if a few more of them had been involved any longer, this would’ve been a friend group ruining event. Thankfully, it isn’t. Because even in the relatively short time Oli’s been here, he finds that he quite likes this group of friends, and would like to keep it around longer than his last one.

Everyone had known fWhip and Jimmy were in a relationship, or a situationship; something like that. They hadn’t labeled what they were, but the two also weren’t very subtle about it either. Public affection was very much on the table for the relationship, much to every other person’s dismay. Oli swears everyone has seen them kiss at least five times, maybe even more. But the affection hadn’t stopped the cracks from showing in their dynamic.

Jimmy and Oli had a blossoming friendship after the latter's release from jail, something that fWhip didn’t seem very fond of. It was one of the many things the goblin wasn’t very fond of, actually, considering how many fights the couple had. In public and in private. They usually weren’t very intense fights, no screaming matches or anything, but the bard knows that having small arguments with someone every day isn’t really the healthiest thing in the world. Especially when you’re in a relationship with them. It’s just a lot of negative energy is all, and he doesn’t know how those two deal with it. Or how they’re even still together.

All that energy comes to a head on the breakup day, as the bard has dubbed it, after a small prank on the Sheriff. They had just trapped him in a jail cell for a little bit, and it was meant to be nothing more than a harmless prank. Jimmy clearly did not see it that way, and was frankly pissed as hell when they finally let him go. Everyone seemed to get the hint that they had gone too far this time, and backed off. Everyone but fWhip, that is, who just kept giggling to himself. Which he probably shouldn;t do, because he was the deputy and all, but the goblin did it anyways. The lack of respect just upset Jimmy even more.

A fight happens rather quickly, after Sausage gives Jimmy his stuff back. Sanctuary’s ruler looked like he had some quip to say, but thought better of it. Especially when the Sheriff turned to fWhip, and started questioning his loyalty. Ya know, the loyalty he promised he had? Yeah, Oli could tell this was gonna get nasty fast, especially when the goblin started walking away from his Sheriff. Because that was gonna make everything better. Yep. Ignoring him would totally work. And the Sheriff just followed behind him, as he was always going to do.

“What was that fWhip? What was that!? ” Jimmy yells, throwing his arms up in the air. He follows his deputy angrily along the half finished train tracks, looking like an absolute force to be reckoned with. The goblin whips around to face him, and the rest of their small group can only watch in silence as a full on fight brews under the summer’s sun.

fWhip snaps a response back, his tail lashing against the ground behind him. His expression is clearly upset, for a myriad of different reasons. Jimmy’s own expression twists again, and he yells back at his deputy. Oli sees Gem and Scott exchange a glance, while Sausage just stares at the ground awkwardly. Well, no one had expected the day to go like this when they pranked Jimmy. But now it was. That was fun. Oli didn’t do anything, just watched the fight unfold in silence. He didn’t really know what else to do anyways.

The topic of Oli gets brought up, and the bard feels three sets of eyes turn to him. He doesn’t say anything, or even meet a single stare directed towards him. He just watches the fight continue on, and crosses his arms in front of his chest. He has nothing to say, and saying anything would probably be a bad idea if he did. There was nothing helpful he could add.

Oli doesn’t really feel like he’s responsible for this breakup. Even if the breakup hasn’t really happened yet, but is clearly about too. From what he’d seen, it’d be a long time coming. It’s not like he could control what Jimmy thought of him, or how he looked at him. All Oli could do is not flirt with a taken man, and he had done exactly that. He had treated Jimmy like he treated everyone else, ignoring the Sheriff’s clear interest in him, and whatever interest he himself might’ve had in the latter.

Jimmy changes the topic of their final couples fight one last time, and that’s when it all goes wrong. They all watch as fWhip gets fired right there, in the town he was the deputy of. They all watch the last kiss that happens, and how Jimmy pulls away from it sharply. The air is tense after that, and Sausage makes the correct call to book it before something else happens. Oli can’t really blame him, though the way he scurries away is a little funny.

The Sheriff says one last thing to fWhip, who doesn’t say anything back, and will not for the rest of the afternoon. Then the blonde turns his gaze to their three remaining friends, and also the fleeing silhouette of Sausage in the air. His eyes settle on Oli, and the bard has never wanted to disappear more in his life. And usually he likes it when the Sheriff looks at him…

“C’mon Oli, let's go!” Jimmy says, turning his back on his ex partner and all their friends. He stomps towards the train tunnel, and calls for Oil again when he realizes the blonde is not following. The bard follows him this time, feet dragging across the sand floor of the mesa, not knowing what else to do. Other than have fWhip’s jealous stare try to burn holes into his clothes and have even more suspicious ones make him feel self conscious, that is.

He follows the Sheriff back to his house, and doesn’t leave till they're sure everyone is gone and no one wants to yell at them anymore. It is a very awkward few hours, but Oli can’t say he regrets it. They were hours spent with his beloved Sheriff, after all.

_____________________________

A month later, Oli finds himself back in the mesa, whistling a tune to himself as he strolls through Tumble Town. He’d gotten a new outfit since he was last here, fully accepting the bard label he’d been given. Even if he’d done so a little begrudgingly. He’s also managed to get himself an instrument, maybe using those charming good looks and that rugged voice the Sheriff had first mentioned to swindle it. Or maybe he had gotten it in a more legal manner, or handmade it himself!? Who was to say, really.

He follows the paths throughout the town, only a little unsure of where he was going. The bard had only been here once after all, and that day was disastrous enough that he ended up forgetting the layout of this place. Also he didn’t like thinking about that day anyways, and pushed the memories down on purpose. Meaning he was extra screwing himself over when it came to navigating Tumble Town. But it’s fine! He has to find the building, or the person, he’s looking for sooner rather than later!

He does, in fact, find the building sooner rather than later. Even if he did need to ask for directions from a kind looking local. And whaddya know! The Sheriff, the very man he wanted to see, is standing right near the saloon’s door when he gets there! What a lucky day! So when the bard is close enough, he calls out his friend’s name, and can’t help but be filled with joy when the blonde’s eyes light up upon spotting him.

“Oli! What can I do for you today!?” Jimmy says, tipping his hat for extra flare. The bard cannot say why, but he loves when the Sheriff does that. Even if it’s only like, one of the first few times he’s seen Jimmy tip his hat. He still loves it regardless. It’s just an endearing thing to him, for a reason the bard can not yet name, and doesn’t really care top right now.

“Oh, nothing much, Sheriff!” He hums, his instrument securely strapped to his back. “But letting me play a tune or two would be real nice!”

“Why of course you can!” Jimmy flashes him a grin, holding the saloon’s swinging door open for him. What a gentleman the Sheriff is! “Your song should bring in plenty of patrons!”

“That is the goal!” Oli winks, and dips inside the building. He doesn’t miss the way Jimmy’s eyes widen, and his face turns a bit pink. He has no time to tease the blonde for that look, the patrons who had spotted him already getting excited over a bard, and some music to go with their drinks. So Oli throws the Sheriff a smirk as he unstraps his guitar. Jimmy just stares, looking a little dumbfounded, as Oli starts the first of many songs he will sing that day; and earns the first few pennies as well. Thankfully for him, there is a lot more where that came from, and the bard will be leaving Tumble Town with his pockets full of gold. Literal gold as well as the metaphorical kind!

The saloon closes several hours later, right in the dead of night. Oli packs up his stuff, his instrument and bags of change, feet aching from all the dancing around and the shows he had performed; near non-stop for hours and hours. Jimmy holds the door open for him once again, flashing him that same grin he had earlier. Oli returns it this time, not getting far before he flops down. He just needs to rest a minute before he heads back home, maybe even stay the night in his friend’s empire. Or, well, what’s left of the night that is. There’s some shuffling behind him before the bar is locked up, and a case of something is set nearby before the doors swing shut for the day. It seems Jimmy has grabbed them some beer, like the good lad he is.

The two of them end up sitting on the outside steps, talking quietly into the night. Talking about everything and anything, about whatever comes to mind. Oli has a beer in his hand, sipping from it in between words. He’s trying not to get too wasted, wanting to carry all his money back home sober.. Jimmy,who’s looking at the twinkling stars next to him, has no drink. It’s not smart to get drunk on a work night, after all.

The Sheriff has been a lot nicer to be around ever since he fired his deputy, at least in the short bursts of time Oli had seen him. Before, he would’ve been all upset and cranky about having to stay up this late. Even with Oli. But now he is quiet and gentle, a stark contrast to his attitude before. And when the bard had seen fWhip a few days ago, handing over twenty or so diamonds (because the little guy would just not stop nagging him about it,) the goblin seemed to be doing better as well. It seems the breakup had been the right move for both of them, even if it had come about in a rather disastrous way.

“Where were you from, before this?” Jimmy asks into the darkness, curiosity lacing the edges of his tone. His voice draws Oli away from thoughts of fights long passed, and back into the present. The Sheriff is looking at him with wide, curious eyes, and the bard finds he has to tear his gaze away before he gets too flustered to respond.

“Somewhere pretty far away.” The bard says, moving his own gaze up to the stars quickly. Right where Jimmy’s own had been, before becoming near permanently fixed on the man beside him. Oli can’t help but feel a little self conscious under those brown eyes, maybe because of how pretty they are. “No one around here would know it.”

“Well then, what was it like?” The Sheriff inquiries, finally taking a beer for himself. He cracks it open, and takes a long sip from the can. The bard waits till he is done, and till he has taken his own long sip of alcohol, to say anything back. This is starting to feel like a conversation he needs to be drunk for, unfortunately, and he prematurely grabs another can out of the case; setting it next to his leg with a clink.

“...There weren’t that many of us,” Oli begins, looking off into the distance. A pang of longing shoots through him as he speaks, choking him up. But he keeps talking despite it, desperately hoping he doesn't sound like he’s about to cry. Because he kinda is really close to crying right now, gotta be honest. “No more than fifteen of us lived there I’d say.”

“No one else made it out.” He adds more quietly, then takes yet another sip of beer. Yep, this is a conversation he’d rather be drunk for. Some unpleasant memories of his old home are already starting to come back, and he hasn't even described anything of substance yet. The bard hadn’t even mentioned all the people he missed, and already found himself choked with grief. Tonight was going to be a longer one than expected.

“Oh-” Jimmy says, and cuts himself off with another drink. It seems he doesn’t know what to say to that, and figures it’s best if he lets Oli keep talking. The bard can’t really blame him for being a little unsure. He had just dropped that fourteen he cared about, and considered his best friends and family, fucking died, after all.

“You….remind me of an old friend from there, actually.” Oli hums, switching thoughts to one of those long gone people specifically. He’s pretty sure that had just been Jimmy, and that old world was just their weird past life no one but the bard remembered. It’s the explanation that made the most sense, considering how different all his old friends acted. And how the people that hadn’t been from their old world were completely unknown Oli.

“Do I?” Jimmy’s voice is soft now, but curious at the same time. He rests a comforting hand on top of his friends, and fiddles with it until their fingers are twined together. Oli lets him do so without complaint, enjoying the touch more than he thought he would. He wishes Jimmy would hold hands with him more.

“Yeah.” The bard says, a smile forming on his face as he remembers the old Jimmy, and all those forms he had taken throughout their lives. He’d liked that dumb candyman power the most. Mainly because that outfit had made his old flame look far too dashing for his own good. He does like a man in a suit, after all. “But in a good way.”

The Sheriff takes another sip of his drink, and finally turns his eyes back to the sky. Oli relaxed more, now that no one is studying every move his face makes. He wonders if they’re watching the same stars while they talk. “..What were they like?”

“Mm, they were stubborn. And kinda silly. A bit too reckless.” Oli muses, running the memories over in his head. Yeah, that Jimmy had been quite silly. Especially with all those deaths he had. But that same silliness is what made him so endearing, and why Oli had ended up liking him as much as he did (and still does .)

“They died, didn’t they?” Jimmy mutters, his tone quieter than it’s been in a while. It’s a stark contrast to how he was standing in front of this building, screaming his heart out at a goblin who didn’t care only a month before. Oli can’t say he hates the change.

“Yeah.” Oli responds softly, and then promptly downs half of the beer can he’d set aside. The Sheriff says nothing against it like someone would expect him too, just gives his friend a comforting squeeze of the hand. Oli squeezes back, and holds on tighter than he intended too.

“I'm sorry.” Jimmy mumbles again, and sets his now empty can to the side. He didn’t even know when the Sheriff finished it, but the drink is now long gone. The blonde doesn’t grab another one from the case either, all his attention now fixed on the bard in front of him. It makes Oli feel so horrible and so special all at the same time.

“It's okay.” The bard doesn’t feel like crying right now, even though any other person would probably be sobbing if they had to talk about all this. Even if Jimmy is clearly worried about him balling his eyes out. He’s either become numb to all the pain, or the beer is making him act funny. Oli is gonna go with the latter for his own sanity. “I think they would’ve liked you a lot.”

“Well, that’s good to hear.” Jimmy flashes him a small but comforting smile, and stops holding his friend’s hand. Oli can’t help the pang of disappointment he feels at that, or the newfound yearning for human contact that’s nestled itself in him. It’s probably for the best Jimmy let go anyways.

“Yeah, yeah it is.” He hums back, and then falls silent for the rest of the night. Quietly, Oli leans his head on the Sheriff’s shoulder, his half full beer can now being forgotten. He doesn’t know why he drank so much of it, doesn’t know why a whole can and a half of beer sounded like a good idea when they were literally sitting outside a saloon. He didn’t even like beer that much. He would’ve preferred to get all sad over a cocktail.

But Jimmy had brought it outside just for the two of them, so it had felt rude not to at least drink one can. (Even if a fruity margarita would’ve been so much nicer on his taste buds….) So he’d drank the beers anyway, because maybe he likes the Sheriff more than he wants to admit, for a bunch of more reasons he also doesn’t want to admit.

Jimmy finishes his own drink with a hum, and wraps a warm arm around Oli’s shoulders, protecting his bard friend from the night’s chill. And that is how they stay until sunrise. Sitting in front of a closed business, snuggled next to each other with half drinks around them, and lightly sleeping against each other.

_____________________________

The Festival of the Rift comes around, and Oli finds himself way more excited than he’d thought he’d be. He’s practically bouncing off the walls with how fidgety he is, and worries he’s gonna break the small ticket stand he’s set up at the entrance. He can’t help it though, his own bloody festival is about to start! The bard has never done an event before, and has made sure this one will be a success. Unless someone messes it up, which is likely possibility knowing the attendees.

The fair goers start trickling in slowly, each forced to pay a fine at the entrance. Or else bad things will happen, as Oli vaguely threatens. And maybe also threatens a random pig or too to get his point across even further, and subsequently get his money. He lights up when the Sheriff arrives, False trailing just behind them. He noticeably does not threaten the Sheriff upon his entrance, and sweet talks the money out of him. False, (who he hadn’t threatened either. Mostly because he was scared of her,) just gives the two of them a knowing look as she walks into the rest of the fair grounds.

After all the guests have arrived and paid their diamonds (ones he would be paying back to fWhip within the next few days, because he was always pestering him about that debt,) Oli decides it’s finally time to explore the festival grounds, and see what all his friends have set up. Through, despite all the nicely designed and somewhat interesting stands and shops that have been set up, it’s the most plain one that catches his eye.

“What’s this over here then?” Oli says, spotting a wooden both. It had popped up without him noticing, like a lot of the stands on fair grounds had. This one is smaller than the other ones though, and probably the smallest one by far. It’s a simple thing, four walls with a entrance door hidden in the back and a lobe lectern placed inside, the book atop it already opened to a page; as well as a window at the front for customers. The gold star symbol above said window tips Oli off to who’s stand this might be as soon as he sees it.

“Oli!” Jimmy’s voice rings out excitedly, and his head pops out of the window. He beckons the bard over with a smile, and Oli knows he can’t help but see what's happening here, even if every other booth looked a million times more interesting. Not when Jimmy was calling to him like that. “This is the compliment stand! Where you leave a nice note about the Sheriff!”

“Is it now?” He says, suddenly understanding what the lectern and only the lectern was inside the stand with his Sheriff friend. And also having an idea for what kind of compliment he wanted to give. Though it was probably different than whatever Jimmy had initially made the booth for. “Well, allow me to leave one then!”

“Great! Here’s a piece of-”

He cuts Jimmy off, leaving the poor Sheriff looking rather befuddled; paper still clutched in his hands. Oli can’t help but smirk as he speaks, giving a quick glance to make sure no one else was around. He didn’t want anyone walking on their very personal moment that was about to happen, and was sure his friend wouldn’t like that much either.“Oh I won’t be needing paper for this compliment, dearest Sheriff.”

“Wha-”

Cutting him off for a second time, Oli leans over the stand’s counter, grabs the Sheriff’s face in his hands, and presses a quick kiss right onto his lips. It’s nothing more than a small peck, but it makes his whole being feel alive like it never has before. Jimmy doesn’t kiss him back till the very end, when Oil needs to pull away. But the attempt to reassure Oli that his advances weren’t unwanted, and that he hadn’t just ruined everything good they had going.

“Well Sheriff, I’ll be seeing you at the concert later!” He says, pulling away quicker than intended. He also runs off quicker than intended, too flustered by his own flirting to do anything else. He just leaves Jimmy standing at his booth, dumbfounded and red faced; the unused slip of paper still clutched in his hand. And if anyone asks either emperor why they’re so flushed, and blushing and smiling throughout the whole festival, both will deny anything ever happened. That kiss, that moment, was there and there’s alone to share.

Later that afternoon, Jimmy comes to see the dragon egg. He listens to Oli’s songs, doesn’t say anything about the very personal decorations lining his tent thingy, and compliments his attraction when everyone else leaves. He looks at the bard like he’s made of silver and gold, like he’s something valuable. He’ll even give him more compliments after the festival, even after the rift incident, and tells him he had a lovely concert for them all.

Oli knows he can’t be blamed, when after everyone has left the festival and the sun is starting to set, he pulls Jimmy inside that handmade crystal cave on the fairgrounds, and kisses him for the second time ever. The Sheriff kisses him back, and Oli knows he never wants to leave this man. Not ever, ever again.

_____________________________

They kiss again behind the saloons bar on a Tuesday evening, illuminated by the low lighting of the bar and nothing else. The bard thinks he’s in heaven when it happens, just as he did the last two times he’s kissed Jimmy. He can barely believe he’s kissing him a third time when that happens, even after everything and all the progress they have made. The blonde feels like the luckiest man in the whole wide world.

The bar is closed when it happens, and it’s only the two of them standing behind it. Oli can barely remember how they got there, just that they had been teasing each other. Maybe with more than a few drinks in their systems, to up the flirting just a little bit. And yes, the blonde did get his fruity cocktail this time, thank you for asking.

Suddenly, in between laughs, their faces are closer than they’ve been since that fateful festival booth, and the bard knows he has to take this chance. He has to take this chance, because he’s probably never going to get it again, with how the world likes to fuck him over. So, when both their slightly drunken laughters calm down, Oli leans in as a little tease. Jimmy takes it as a challenge, like he takes everything as. He steadies them both with a hand on the bard’s waist, and fiddles with the loose fabric under his fingers. The blonde just feels his breath hitch, and moves so their faces are practically touching. To make his intentions more clear than they already had been.

Oli closes his eyes, figuring it'll be less awkward if he does that. He isn't sure what Jimmy’s doing, not until he feels a gentle hand, the one not on his waist, reaching up to hold his jaw. The Sheriff's hold is nice and warm, and Oli is like a moth to a flame. He leans into it before he even knows what he's doing, and feels Jimmy’s heartbeat skip a little afterwards. Whoops.

They stay like that for a moment, before Jimmy tentatively presses their lips together. He seems rather unsure about it, like this might be unwanted, until Oil presses back rather insistently. (This is very clearly a wanted advance, for christ's sake, he'd been teasing the Sheriff for weeks! They’d kissed twice already! This man is so stupid sometimes, and it’s way more endearing than it should be!)

It is….a very hesitant kiss, despite their past ones, but the Sheriff's lips are soft and warm against his own. Warm, like everything else about him. Warm like the mesa he lives in, and soft like the way he holds the bard. He feels alive again, and never wants this to end. Not ever in a million years would he want kissing Jimmy to end.

But they have to move back eventually, the need for air outwinning every other thought in Oli’s head. He gasps to catch his breath, and gasps again when Jimmy leans in for another one. Finally! This man gets the hint! The bard kisses him back happily, and doesn’t mind when they kiss a few more times after it, again and again and again, until people get too close to their little hiding place. Only then do the two of them separate, laughing quietly once more, and stumble back to the Sheriff’s house, far past each of their bedtimes.

It is the best night of Oli's life. He wishes he could relive it over and over again, and tries too for months and months afterward. The universe does not want him too, and he stops relieving it far quicker than he ever would have wanted too.

_____________________________

The last time Oil stops by Tumble Town, the place is in complete and utter disrepair. He stares at the rundown buildings in a worried sort of curiosity, wondering how they would’ve gotten in such a state. Jimmy is normally very good at keeping the place tidy! Though, he hasn’t stopped by in several months, the patrons in Chromia being a lot more generous with their gold, so it’s possible all this decay was gradual. Which is a lot more worrying than it all being recent.

He sees something as he walks through the eerily silent town, something blue and mossy clinging to one of the fading buildings, and the bard immediately stiffens. The signature signs of the fae are here, right in the middle of the mesa. And that can’t be anything good, not in the slightest. So he quickened his pace, worried out of his mind about what could’ve befallen his favorite Sheriff.

Oli finds Jimmy by his house, clearly loading bags onto a horse's back. His personal horse, Bullseye. So he’s going somewhere, presumably for a long period of time. And with all the abandoned buildings, the empty town, the general lack of life and the bloody fae hanging around, it’s not hard to figure out that the Sheriff is abandoning his home. Jimmy is leaving the place he;d built from scratch, where he’d made all these memories with the bard, and Oli can barely believe it’s happening.

“Jimmy!” He yells out, doing so without even thinking. He has no idea what he would even say after that, and half hopes the Sheriff did not hear him. He absolutely did. They are not anymore than ten feet apart. Oli has successfully snuck up on a fleeing man.

“Oli!” The Sheriff whips his head around, panic clear in his tone. He obviously hadn’t been expecting to see Oli before he left, if the newfound fear in his eyes said anything. Like leaving him without any fucking warning was an okay thing to do. “It’s not what it looks like-”

“You're gonna leave, aren't you?” Oli says, arms dropping limply to his side. He doesn’t know what else to do with them, for once, except just let them fall. The action seems to upset the Sheriff for a moment, a small frown crossing his face. Good, let him be upset. The dirty deserter…leaving like this…

Jimmy says nothing in response, he doesn’t even meet his bard's gaze for a last time. The Sheriff just turns his back on his lover, and stares blankly at the wooden walls of his house. Oli can’t even muster a snarky response out like he wants too, emotions gathering in his throat. Because he’s losing Jimmy. He’s losing Jimmy again and he knows there’s nothing he can do to stop it. Again. He’s losing Jimmy again .

The Old Sheriff calls from somewhere, and Jimmy turns his head to where the noise came from. The old man needs help with something, it seems, and has unknowingly provided the Sheriff an escape from this situation. The bastard. Oli is almost grateful for the distraction, because he doesn’t know where else this conversation was going. It wasn’t anywhere good, that’s for certain. And he doesn’t wanna be another fWhip.

“I have to go, Oli.” Jimmy says, giving the bard one last hopeful glance. Like he hadn’t been trying to leave without telling him. Because apparently all those kisses and what not meant that much to him. He looks at him like he has anything to be hopeful about. Like he isn’t shattering a man’s whole world as they speak. “See you later?”

“You won’t, because you’re leaving.” Oli spits, and promptly turns tail and runs. Jimmy doesn’t even call after him, just stares sadly. He looked like he wanted to kiss Oli, before the latter had run away. The bard doesn’t know if that would’ve made that hurt more, or have made it hurt so much less. He’s glad he didn’t stick around to find out.

And that is the last damn time he ever sees the love of his life.

_____________________________

Right before he leaves, the Sheriff gets invited to a funeral. He gets invited to Oli’s funeral. His friend had died suddenly, seemingly jumping off a roof. Or maybe falling, but all the people who had seen said it looked like he jumped. When Jimmy gets the invitation, he stares at it blankly for a minute, and then tears it up in grief. He didn’t even get the chance to see where the ceremony was, and has to figure it out when he arrives at the Olipeligo two days later.

The remains of the paper go right in the trash, along with that stupid letter fWhip had sent. One about trying to make up or whatever. That trash is then thrown to the fae, so the three things ruining the Sheriff’s life can all be in one place. He barely cares that it makes the blue substance spread across his mesa more. He’s leaving right after the funeral anyways, and never coming back to this dumb empire he’d made ever again.

Pix is there when he arrives, and is the only other emperor to be. Eddie from sanctuary is there too, the fling Oli had in his first few months of being here. They hadn’t been involved in months, but it seemed the rabbit man still cared enough to show up. There are a few more rabbit people, who all probably came with Eddie, and a few people from wherever who had liked the bard’s singing. It is a small funeral. Jimmy hangs in the back the whole time, cowboy hat hiding his face. He doesn’t give a eulogy. He doesn't think he could speak if he tried.

The cherry petals fall around them as the processions come to a close, the staple petals of this lovely beachside empire. Pix gives him a comforting pat on the shoulder as everyone leaves, and Jimmy barely even acknowledges he did it. The Sheriff is too busy staring off at the ocean, and trying not to cry. The man he loved the most is dead, and it is only fueling his desire to run away more and more.

(Unbeknownst to him, a boat is sailing its way upstream, towards where the festival grounds lay. Oli is leaving, because he knows this world is not for him. His death was faked, and he hadn’t stayed around to watch the funeral like he had wanted. Besides, possibly seeing Jimmy again would just make it harder to go. So he rows away quietly, and ignores that pain in his chest as he does. [He wishes he had kissed his love one last time..])

Jimmy leaves the Olipeligo before the sun sets fully, and meets the Old Sheriff on the outskirts of the mesa. He’s surprised the old man actually showed up, and he didn’t have to drag him out of the old, run down bar or something. But he’s here on time, horse and supplies in tow, and that’s all that matters.

The Sheriff sets off into the distance with his companion, never to see these lands again, and aching for the person they had taken from him. For the part of his soul he is never going to get back. He wishes he had never settled here. He wishes Tumble Town had been built elsewhere. Maybe then he wouldn’t be running. Maybe then Oli would still be by his side.

#jimmy solidarity #ron.fic #oli theorionsound #olidarity #solidsound #empiresshipping #empires smp #tw alcohol #tw death mention #IT GOT OUT OF HAND AGAIN. THIS WASNT SUPPSOED TO BE 9K #anyways the beast is done. i need to lie down

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nyoaeuikhoudu · 24 days ago

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do you ever do dramatic pieces? if so i'd love to see some dramatic lab rats in your style. Maybe someone got hurt?

Imagine looking in the mirror and seeing your abuser.

poor Oli :( someone get this man a hug

When the boys touched the Arcturion, Oliver was closer to the blast. That's why he got more powers than Kaz, and was effected by the Arcturion more. He got really sick, nearly dying, and his hair turned white.

There's a reason he dyes his hair back natural...

#art #fanart #lab rats #lab rats fanart #mighty med #mighty med fanart #oliver mm #oliver lref #lrmmef #lab rats elite force #lab rats elite force fanart

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skepticalarrie · 1 year ago

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take this as a grain of salt as you will, Saw Louis and Oli surfing here in Italy recently, Louis seems very happy and still has a thick beard on him. Kind of shocked that he still knows how to surf. HE IS TAN AS FUCK like literally. He's wearing his white England shorts when we saw him at the beach.

Well, I wouldn’t have guessed it 😂😂 He was apparently in England still just a couple of days ago, but I imagine he would be heading to Italy pretty soon. But what I’m most interested to know is how did you survive the thick beard (‼️) and the surfing situation, I mean 🥵

#ask #rumours #and white shorts for surfing like EXCUSE ME

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les-lestappen · 2 years ago

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can i request prompt 32 with griezmann?

ANTOINE GRIEZMANN X READER:

author's note: I'm actually kinda proud of this, hope you like it :))) warning: just a tiny bit of angst.

You couldn't hide your frustration. It was starting to get ridiculous and you both knew it, Antoine was sitting in front of you with furrowed brows, mindlessly scrolling through instagram. You were pretending to do the same, looking at him through your eyelashes.

It was weird, being right in front of each other and not talking, usually you two would be laughing over nothing, always matching each other's energy so well, teasing each other and basically speaking your own languages with how many inside jokes you had. Now he wouldn't even look in your direction, he pretended you didn't exist and kept changing position on the white couch. The tension was palpable. You were frustrated and confused: Antoine was literally the sweetest person you knew, always a kind word and a smile for everybody, he was your best friend and you couldn't imagine why he wouldn't talk to you even if he was mad. You didn't even know what you could have done wrong!

Dinner with the Équipe was supposed to be fun and you were so happy when Antoine asked if you would join him but now you regretted it, feeling stupid in such an elegant blue dress, being sat in front of a man who wouldn't even acknowledge your presence.

He got up abruptly to go to the bathroom and Olivier scooted closer, whispering "What's going on with you two?" in your right ear.

"I don't know Oli, he's been acting strange for the past hour. Do you think I offended him somehow?" you sighed "Maybe he doesn't like how I dressed." you thought out loud. To be fair your blue satin dress showed a lot of cleavage and hugged your figure thighly and you debated a lot whether you should wear it or not. Maybe he thought you overdressed, or he didn't like how much skin was showing.

"Nonsense" Olivier said "I think you look hot and Antoine thinks so too." he winked at you.

"Normally I would be jealous but you do look stunning." chipped in his wife.

"I second that." Presnel added, grinning.

"Stop it guys, you're gonna make me blush." You mumble, already red. Olivier always knew how to distract you when you felt a little insecure, he was very protective but Presnel was just shamelessly flirting. Actually he had been making you laugh all night.

"Oh and Y/n, Antoine isn't the kind of guy who would judge you based on how you dressed. You knew it was true and he had complimented you at the beginning of the night, still you were angry with him.

"He's also not the kind of guy to ignore his best friend instead of dealing with whatever the problem is, but here we are."

Oliver didn't have time to reply cause Antoine came back, he switched his attention to him, inviting to go on the terrace for a bit.

You followed them with your eyes, trying to read Antoine's expression but then you gave up, going back to your conversation with Presnel and Kylian.

Oli came back after a while. "He wouldn't tell me what was wrong but I think I figured it out, you should really talk to him." he said, winking at you again. "Why does it have to be me?" You thought, but still you joined him on the terrace.

He looked, if possible, even more upset than before but also a little embarrassed. You two looked at each other in silence for a little too long before you spoke "Anto what's going on? Did I do something wrong?"

"What?" he said a little surprised "No you didn't…"

"Then why aren't you talking to me? It's annoying and I don't fucking like it, we've always been able to tell each other everything."

Antoine sighed, looking away from you

"You're right Y/n, I was just upset and I didn't think I could control what came out of my mouth so I just decided not to say anything."

"But why are you upset?" he still wasn't looking at you.

"Because I saw you talking to Presnel and you two were laughing and I know it's stupid and it's not the first time one of my teammates hits on you cause you're gorgeous and smart and funny and it makes sense but still…you were laughing and you even had little inside jokes; like the ones you have with me. And I remember you saying he was cute some time ago and I don't know…It just upset me because I was jealous! But I know I have no right to be jealous cause we're just friends and everything but I am and it's fucking embarrassing. I know It's my problem and I shouldn't have ignored you, I'm really sorry Y/n" Thanks to the light coming from inside you could see he was blushing.

"Antoine, look at me" You said softly and when he did you noticed his beautiful blue eyes were shining with unshed tears.

You didn't give him time to say anything else because you kissed him, just for a second.

He looked at you, his eyes wide and deepened the kiss, one hand caressing your naked back and the other gripping firmly your hip.

"God knows how much I waited for this." He whispered.

#antoine griezmann #atletico madrid #equipe de france #antoine griezmann x reader #antoine griezmann x you #olivier giroud #olivier giroud x reader #platonic #presnel kimpembe #equipe de france fic #antoine griezmann fic #grizou #grizou x reader

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littleobelia · 4 months ago

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Hellooooo!! I'm so curious about so many of your WIPs but cuddlefish is top of my list if you'd care to share about it!

Helloooooo <33 I do care to share about it, thank you for asking! Bander asked about that WIP as well so perhaps I'll share a little schnippet of what I have so far

its inspired by the mfasr music video!

The water churned as the net breached the surface and was swiftly winched into the air. Water sluiced off, crashing back into the sea. Straight away they could see it had been a dud catch. Scores of dogfish were pressed against the netting, their bulbous eyes bulging and mouths gaping. A couple of big white cod were jumbled in with them, and there towards the top what looked like –well that couldn’t be. Some sort of octopus? But it was huge, taking up a whole third of the net space. Must be some sort of squid with a huge fleshy mantle, but Louis couldn’t really see it properly half buried in the rest of the catch.

“The fuck’s that? Squid?” Oli said, frowning in confusion.

“Dunno, haul her in and let’s have a look,” Louis replied.

Working together, they pulled the net to hover over the left sorting bay, one of two broad troughs where they could sift through and quickly assess the haul. They opened the net and the caephalopod-thing plopped to the ground with a loud thud. Louis caught a glimpse of a human face before it was buried under a mountain of fish. “What the fuck…” he muttered. Had he imagined it?

Then the pile of fish began to shift and topple as the thing underneath shifted. A man’s torso emerged from the pile, two muscled arms rose and clutched at the sides of the trough. The torso had a head as well, of which they presently could only see the back, with dark hair and pale ears. Slowly the head swivelled on its neck and turned to face them. His face was alabaster white, with nary a freckle or blemish. His mouth was surrounded with auburn whiskers, and his eyes were green, so bright that Louis could see the colour from where he stood, transfixed and mouth agog. The expression on the man’s face morphed from dazed confusion to extreme fear in a matter of seconds. His mouth opened into a little circle of surprise and he let out a strange sound – a little squeak, like a startled mouse. Then, to Louis and Oli’s horror, the contents of the net began to fly everywhere as the man rose out of the trough and revealed not two standard human legs, but tentacles, <em>dozens</em> of reddish-pink tentacles, whipping around in a frenzy as they propelled him over the lip of his container and onto the deck of the boat.

“What the fuck!” Louis screamed, just as a flying sardine whacked him in the gob.

#cuddlefish #my fic

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fluesterscherben · 10 months ago

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Wen Xu was mostly acting on orders when he burned the Cloud Recesses. Mostly. His father had not explicitly ordered him to burn the Jingshi, burn Madam Lan's (oh how it hurts to call her that, how it hurts that no one dares speak her name - maybe out of hatred, maybe indifference, how it hurts that the only alternative he has tastes like ash on his tounge - has become unspeakable from the day his father claimed him as his son.) prison.

But here he stands, surrounded by embers and licking flames and watches it turn to ash. Burning gentians, he finds, are beautiful. He does not know if that beauty comes from the sight itself or from the feeling he attaches to it, a soul deep sigh of endless relief.

(She has moved on long ago, glad to escape the confinement of her prison, her only lingering regret leaving her children behind, but he has not. He is still that same little boy who- her death did not free him.)

Someone screams behind him, a scream of anger and desperation and more on instinct than anything else he dodges the sword lunging for his back. Qingheng-zun stumbles past him, likely overwhelmed by his sword's unexpected velocity.

He does not look like the hero the ballads portray him as, nor like the monster Wen Xu had imagined from the tales his Zhuliu-shu had told him of their youth. He is not an enemy, not some misguided hero. Just an old man past his prime who desperately clings to a feeling he has convinced himself was love.

Somehow that realisation doesn't make the bitter hatred the man who has nothing left to call himself but Wen Xu has harboured since he was a small child inside the husk he calls his heart shrivel up or grow. It just stays there where it has always been. He almost wants to laugh. Qingheng-zun is just a person. Just a man.

The sword is swung towards Wen Xu again, unskilled and weak from twenty years of unmoving sollitude. He does not even bother to block it, only makes half a step to the side.

This time he does laugh.

The dark look of pure hatred and weak stab into thin air that greet him in return are quite amusing. Qingheng-zun has no reason to hate him. No, that man his brought this onto himself the moment he walked out of the Nightless City with a bride in his arms and left a five year old behind in a snake pit to either grow scales and fangs or fall victim to an angry dragon.

"I am", he says and smiles, the smile he knows is his mother's from the reaction his father has to it, shrewd and innocent all at once, as he dodges another blow, his sword still sheathed, "no more than a filial son."

The roar that earns him is fierce. The sword swings again, this time with more force. "That dog Wen Rouhan!", Qingheng-zun screams while the blade is still in the air. This time Wen Xu does draw his sword and block.

He swings in kind, draws blood as a silver Lan sword clatters to the ground. He kicks the blade away with his foot. He needs to say it now. He needs to say it now before he never does. "I never said I was being filial to my father, Sect Leader Lan."

"Madam Wen has no grievan-"

"And Madam Wen is not my mother. I am the oldest, but I am not his heir." I was lucky, he does not say.

He makes one step forward, brings his sword to Sect Leader Lan's neck. "My mother died an other man's wife."

Those eyes widen in horrified realisation and he can't help but feel a grim sense of satisfaction at that look. He presses the blade closer into the old man's flesh, deep enough to draw blood.

"You did this to yourself."

He flicks his wrist and slits one more throat in his short bloody life. He feels no satisfaction, no remorse.

In another life this would not have happened. In another life maybe- It does not matter.

In this lifetime he stands in white stained with red, stained himself, so completely soaked in blood that all he will ever be is scarlet red. (The oly way to purge himself is death, but his own hand trembles around the hilt of his sword.)

Later that day he sees that same hatred Qingheng-zun had for him in Lan Wangji's eyes and he knows down to his guilty bones that he was right in dismissing his wishful thinking.

Let them hate him. Let them, he deserves it.

Before he dies he whispers his secret into his executioner's ear. He does not want to die with it weighing him down.

"She was my mother first."

(In an other life children walk across the Lan Sect compound off in direction of their mother's house for their monthly visit.

"Hurry!", A'Zhan calls. It seems to be his favorite word as much as a four year old can have a favorite word. "Hurry!"

"Right, gege, hurry!", A'Huan chimes in. "I want to see A'Niang."

"Alright, alright!"

Lan Xu lets them drag him along under laughter, his plain white Sect ribbon fluttering behind him like a war banner in the wind.)

#mdzs #mdzs au #wen xu #au #fanfic #fanfiction #look i love this stupid headcanon so much #brothers #tragic hero wen xu #kinda

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imagineabuttercream · 2 years ago

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Oli White's Secret

Everyone on tumblr knows that certain celebrities make anonymous tumblr accounts for personal use and to occasionally stalk their fans...and if you didn't know that already, you were about to find out.

You - Could my customers be any ruder?!?

You had finally finished your shift and gotten home from work and tumblr messaged the one person you were always looking forward to talking to. Working as a Barista in a coffee shop should be a job where you get to make people's days better, but you usually just ended up getting yelled at by uncaffeinated grumpy people.

Them (Oli) - Aww, I wish I was there to make your day better.

You - Don't worry, you always make my day better. Even though we live like 8 time zones apart.

Them (Oli) - Glad to hear it. I'd ask you about your day, but I'm assuming that wouldn't help your mood, lol.

You - Haha, you'd be correct. Though, it is Monday so I get to YouTube binge for a bit. I think Jack's new video has Oli and James in it and Oli has a video with Jack and Conor in it!! Double Oli videos today!

Them (Oli) -Go ahead, attend to your fangirling. I'm going to hop in the shower. I should be back by the time you're finished stalking British youtubers.

You - I feel so attacked. It's not like I'm you and actually live in the same city as them! Haha, I have to get my fix from afar!

Them (Oli) -Don't worry. I'm not judging your for your addiction. Enjoy your videos.

Oli didn't start his personal tumblr to stalk fans. The opposite, actually. He liked having a personal page where he followed blogs about writing and blogs about his favorite movies and bands. He wanted a space where he could be himself without actually being himself. He had found your tumblr because you often answered anon's asking for advice. It was more than half of what you posted. Oli had read through over 200 of the asks/replies on your page and had kind of instantly fallen in love with you. You were kind and smart and encouraging and so he messaged you telling you that he loved your page. You guys actually hit it off and now you talk almost every day.

You - I know I say this every time they're in a video together, but Oli and James have the cutest relationship. You - Like, he's going to make a great dad. You - I just know it. You - OMG hurry up! I'm out of videos!

Them (Oli)- You're obsessed.

You - Finally! You - And no I'm not! Youtube is my escape from my normal boring life.

Them (Oli) - I'm pretty sure you're obsessed.Them (Oli) - Plus, you aren't boring. Talking to you is the highlight of my day.

You - Actually, you are too. You - I'm so used to having people come to me for advice that I didn't really have anyone to go to before I met you.

Them (Oli) - Well I'm honored. I can only hope that my advice is half as good as yours.

Like most nights, you talked for about an hour. It was getting quite late in London, but Oli usually stayed up to talk. It had been almost a year since you guys became such close friends, but it had been almost 4 months since you had told him about your obsession with British youtuber Oli White and he had figured out that he now had a huge secret.

Them (Oli) - I think I'm going to fall asleep soon, love. I have to get up early tomorrow.

You - Of course, sorry I kept you up so late. You - OMG I almost forgot! I won tickets to Summer in The City and I think I have enough miles built up to buy a flight! You - Are you going??

Oli sat on his bed completely speechless. What was he going to do? He would have to lie and say he couldn't go or fess up and tell you that he was, in fact, the person you were hoping to meet.

Them (Oli) - I'm pretty sure I'm going.

You - You mean we might actually get to meet!?

Deciding he couldn't lie, he vowed to find a way to tell you soon.

Them (Oli) - Yes! I can't wait, actually. I hope I don't disappoint you. It's always weird meeting people you've never actually seen in person.

You - There's no way I'll be disappointed. I can't wait. Now get some sleep, buddy. <3 Talk to you tomorrow!

Them (Oli) - <3 Later, love.

It was worth the money, even if your miles didn't cover your plane ticket. You decided to book your flight and hotel room tonight. Confirming that both were good to go, you clicked back over to tumblr.

*Tumblr post* SUMMER IN THE CITY

Hey people, Y/n here! I have good news! *insert drum roll* I won tickets to Summer in The City! I cannot wait to visit London and meet a few youtubers. I know a few of you guys are going too, so make sure to message me so we can meet up! In case you guys are going to be there and want to find me, I'm adding a picture to the bottom of this post :) Don't judge me for my lack of make-up, I got home from work and got as comfy as possible. *post end*

Oli woke up the next morning and like most people, immediately checked social media. Nothing caught his attention until he opened tumblr and saw that you had actually posted a picture of yourself. Something you had never done before. And he couldn't believe the completely anonymous person he had fallen in love with was so beautiful. He was both excited and terrified at the same time. How was he going to tell you who he actually was?

He decided to send you an anonymous ask, asking for advice. You were who he went to for advice, so why not?

He waited all day for your response, checking his phone whenever he could get a second.

Anon : Hello, lovely. I am in a bit of a predicament. I am in love. I know the person I love at least likes me because she's told me that she does. I know, I know...what a problem to have. Here's the thing...She doesn't know I'm actually me. We met online, but I'm afraid that if she finds out that I've hidden this from her...Well I'm afraid she'll be mad and that she won't forgive me. I don't know what to do. Being able to actually be with her is worth the risk that she'll be mad, but thinking about losing her friendship because I messed up is killing me. This probably didn't make any sense. Hope you can help.

You had read this over and over. Words of encouragement usually came to you with no effort, but this one had you stuck.

You : Dear anon, This one is quite a doozy, isnt it?I always respond from the heart, so this will be no different. If I were you, I would prepare for them to be upset. Trust is a big deal and I think it would be totally understandable for them to be upset. On the other hand, if you already know they like you, then take the risk. Love is worth the risk. I'm sorry I haven't been much help. I wish you all the best. <3

Oli sat there reading your response over and over again. He was out to lunch with Joe and it was obvious he was distracted.

"Mate, what has you so upset?" Joe asked, concerned for his friend.

"It's nothing. " Oli replied, putting his phone down. "Gotta love girl problems."

"Oi, you've got girl problems? Share, buddy." Joe teased Oli.

Oli hesitated. "No, it's fine." He tried to act normal hoping Joe would stop asking, but when he looked up he was met with Joe's stare and raised eyebrows. "Fine. Dammit. I've been talking to a girl online but she doesn't know she's talking to me. We've been friends on tumblr for a year and I know that she likes Oli, she just doesnt know Oli is me. I'm pathetic and I messed up and now she's coming to SITC and she wants to meet me, but she also wants to meet Oli and I don't know what to do. I'm going to lose a great friend and miss out on love all in one fell swoop." Oli let his head fall.

"Damn." was all Joe said.

"Really? That's all you have to offer?" Oli asked, annoyed. "I bloody spill my guts and I get a 'damn.'"

"Hold on, you Randy. I'm just taking it all in. Don't lose your trousers." Joe reassured Oli. "What do you plan on doing?"

"I have to tell her. I just don't know if I do it online or when she's here." He replied.

"Mate, if you spring this on her when she's here she's going to flip. You have to tell her Asap. Give her time to process." Joe urged.

"I know, I know. I'll catch you later, buddy. I've got to try to fix this." Oli started walking back to his flat.

He sat there for over an hour trying to perfect his message.

Them (Oli) - I'm going to start this message with the words I love you and I'm sorry. I feel like I've broken your trust and I will do anything to make it right. My name is Oli White, I have a little brother named James, I have a few youtube channels, and I started this tumblr account to get away from being Oli White. I met you here on tumblr and I couldn't have been happier. It wasn't until a few months ago that I even knew you knew who Oli White was. I should have fessed up right then and there, but I was afraid I'd lose you as a friend and I didn't want to risk it. I don't even know how to start making this up to you. I want you to come to Summer in The City and I want to meet you because you've become one of my best friends and I'm pretty sure I've fallen completely in love with you. Please, please believe that I never meant to deceive you. I really hope you still come.

You sat staring at your computer screen, not knowing what to believe. If your friend was pranking you and actually thought this was funny, they weren't who you thought they were. If this really was Oli White and he let you fangirl to him about himself, you didn't know if you could ever face him. You didn't know if you were more angry or embarrassed.

You were leaving for SITC in two days and decided not to reply to the message at all. He knew what you looked like and he knew your name. If Oli or whoever you had become friends with wanted to talk to you, they could do it in person.

Oli was over at Joe's house helping him prepare for SITC and Joe could tell that he was still moping around. "Mate, she still hasn't replied?" He asked in a sympathetic voice.

"Nope. Not a single message. The only posts on her page are her responses to anons. She even deleted the one I sent. I really hope she's still coming. I have to be able to make it up to her." Oli replied.

"If she doesn't show up at your meet and greet, you should maybe plan a little speech or something for your panel. I've read some of the messages. She's either embarrassed or she doesn't believe you." Joe said.

"Yeah, I guess. I just wish I had told her right away." Oli sounded defeated.

You had stayed off of tumblr, for the most part, but you had noticed that Oli had tweeted multiple tweets sounding bummed out.*Why does your heart make you do stupid things?**Hey guys, no new video today. I'll make sure to post something soon.**Does anyone really want me to vlog SITC?* He just sounded very....not Oli. You wondered if it really was him that you had been talking to. Were you the reason Oli was in a funk?

Having just checked into your hotel, you pulled up your tumblr posting an update to your followers.

*TUMBLR POST* I'M HERE!

Hey guys, I MADE IT!!!

I'm heading straight out to mingle with everyone, so if anyone wants to meet up I'll be wearing the below outfit. Don't be shy! I can't wait to make friends. *END POST*

Oli saw your post and cheered, scaring everyone in the room with him. "YES! SHE CAME!"

"That's what she said." Jack joked, giving Oli a weird look.

"Wait, her? Like, HER her?" Joe asked.

"Indeed. Maybe I can win her back. " Oli replied, smiling for the first time in a few days.

You didn't go to Oli White's meet and greet. You couldn't get over being embarrassed every time you thought about everything you had messaged your online friend. You decided you could still hide in the audience for his panel, though.

"Everybody welcome Oli White to the stage!" the host announced.

"Hey guys! It's nice to see you all." Oli grabbed a mic and spoke, sitting down on the couch on stage.

"And we're glad to see you, Oli. How are you?" The host kept the interview going, occasionally bringing other youtubers on stage for games and challenges.

His interview was coming to an end and you felt really dumb. Oli seemed fine. Whoever you had been talking to online must have pranked you. It obviously wasn't Oli. You were even more upset that you had skipped his meet and greet.

"Anything else you want to add before we say goodbye?" The host asked Oli.

Oli's whole demeanor changed. He all of a sudden looked very nervous. He cleared his throat and spoke. "Actually, yes. I, umm. I have a confession."

"Oooh, spill." the host encouraged.

Oli stood and adjusted his clothes nervously. "Last year I met a wonderful person online. They were smart and witty and funny and kind and, um...Oh, god. I'm shaking. They basically became one of my best friends. I never told them who I was until about a week ago and I know that she's upset that I kind of lied. I didn't mean to be dishonest, I just didn't know how to tell her. I know that she's here this weekend and I hope that she's here in this room. Y/n, are you here?" the audience audibly gasped and started looking around for someone to stand up or reply.

You were shocked. You couldn't process what was happening. With eyes wide and your hand over your mouth, you slowly rose to your feet. Everyone's eyes were on you, when you heard the host speak.

"Is that your girl?" The host asked Oli.

Oli had a huge grin on his face. "That's her. Can you come up here?" Oli asked. "Please?"

Dropping your bag in your seat, you made your way to the stage. Oli speaking as you walked.

"This beautiful girl has let me vent and complain and obsess and never once did she make me feel bad about it. She always encouraged me and was patient with me." You finally reached the stage and he grabbed your hand and faced you. "She is perfect and I pray to God she forgives me." Oli put the mic back in the mic stand so you two could speak without the audience hearing you.

"Please tell me I can make it up to you?" Oli begged.

"You silly boy. Why didn't you just tell me it was you?" you had tears trying to escape your eyes, but you also had a big smile on your face.

"I don't know, love. I was scared and I messed up. Do I get another chance?" he asked, wiping away a few tears that had made their way down your cheek.

"I think I could give you another chance." you laughed, remembering you were on stage in front of a few thousand people.

"Don't pay them any mind, love. One more question?" Oli asked, looking straight into your eyes.

"Only one, and then we can stop being awkward in front of strangers." you teased. "Can I kiss you?" he placed his hand on your cheek, his cheeks turning bright red.

"I think that would be okay." you replied.

The whole audience stayed silent, gasping as Oli leaned in and captured your lips. That is, until Joe Sugg and the boys cheered from the back of the room "Yeah, Oli! Woooo!" and then the entire room joined in cheering.

"I've never had a panel end quite like that." The host added, joining in on the cheering.

You and Oli made your way back stage. "I'm so glad you showed up." Oli told you.

"Me too." you replied, leaning up to kiss Oli again.

You couldn't wait to log back into your tumblr and tell the story of your SITC adventure.

#oli white x reader #oli white fic #oli white imagine #oli white #the buttercream gang

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waternilly · 3 months ago

Text

No Tricks (George Weasley x OC) - Part 6

Fandom: Harry Potter Ship: George Weasley x OC Word count: 1.2k Warnings: None Ao3 link: here Summary: A tattoo shop opens across from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, immediately catching the eye of the youngest twin. The intriguing owner, though well-versed in the magical world, doesn’t quite belong to it herself. As they navigate their differences, their mutual curiosity blooms into something deeper. Harry Potter Masterlist

Oli was worth all the trouble.

At least, that was what George believed as he looked over at her, busy cutting asparagus next to him while he minced an onion. Turning his attention back to his task, George shifted to the other leg. The radio quietly played in the background as the wind traveled through the curtains, gently tickling his neck.

Laying the knife down, Oli sipped from her glass of white wine. She turned towards him, casually leaning her hip against the counter.

“How did you learn to cook?”

George answered as he began mincing garlic: “Believe it or not, I own cookbooks.”

As if to prove it, he nodded towards the shelf atop his fridge. Oli opened it and was met with a collection of hardcovers, magazines and loose sheets of paper. She nodded, a corner of her mouth lifting, impressed.

“I figured that if I had to eat to survive, I might as well make the best of it.” He paused, then added: “After 20 years in the Burrow, it would have been hard to switch to industrial food anyway.”

This elicited a chuckle from Oli.

“How come you don’t cook?” he asked, wiping down the blade to detach the last pieces of garlic.

She shrugged.

“Never bothered to learn much. No one in my family was hung up on making home cooked meals, so I learned to be happy with little.”

They both sipped from their wine.

“My aunt was a crap cook, no matter how hard she tried.”

Putting his glass down, George said: “You mention her a lot.”

“My aunt?”

He nodded, now facing her. Oli only shrugged.

“She practically raised me.”

“How come?” George wondered, brows furrowed. “If I may ask, of course.”

“You may.”

She exhaled as she put her glass down onto the counter.

“My parents were too busy being important. They didn’t have much time for me.” With a small smile, she continued: “My aunt never had kids, but she adored me. She was the best parent I could’ve asked for.”

George thought for a moment.

“She was your Muggle aunt, right?”

“Yes, she was.”

“How did she handle your magic?” he wondered with a small smile, already imagining 9 year old Oli, unable to control her powers and accidentally setting the carpet on fire.

“It was quite okay actually.”

“Oh.”

“Very uneventful.”

He tried to hide his disappointment at the absence of a funny story.

“Maybe it’s because I was always very happy around her.”

George considered her response, twisting his lips.

“Perhaps…”

It could make sense. Magic in young children was caused by strong emotions, most often negative ones such as anger. He knew joy could also be a trigger, but usually it caused more discreet magic. Perhaps neither Oli nor her aunt had ever paid much attention to it or any other signs.

Huffing, he decided that it did not matter and, putting his glass down, faced the stove. Igniting one of the fires, George threw a cube of butter in the pan and let it melt. He then added the onion, soon followed by the garlic.

“You never mentioned where you went to school,” he pointed out.

Looking up from his hands to meet his gaze, Oli furrowed her brows.

“In the Netherlands. Not that it matters.”

“Aren’t you from Ghent?”

“Yes, but there is no school of magic in Belgium.”

George looked away from the pan to meet her gaze, confused.

“Why?”

Oli smiled and shrugged: “I don’t know. Probably to do with the linguistic mess that are Flanders and Wallonia.”

“So Flemish kids go to the Netherlands?”

“And Wallon kids go to France,” Oli completed.

George then added the asparagus to the pan and stirred the vegetables together.

“What about you?”

Raising his brows, he shot her a glance.

“Where did you study?”

“I went to Hogwarts, in Scotland.”

“Ah, I love Scotland.”

“You do?”

“Yes, I backpacked to Edinburgh when I finished school. The Highlands are beautiful too.”

George smiled and met her gaze again.

“Have you ever been to Devon?”

Oli chuckled and motioned no.

“I’ll take you some time.” He caught himself speaking more gently: “If you’d like that of course.”

Thankfully, she agreed to the idea.

“What is there to see in Devon?”

George felt his breath catch in his throat. Her tone matched his, both playful and quiet.

“Oh well, there is the Burrow, of course.” He mentally cringed. Was that really the best he could come up with? “The sea isn’t far either, so if you enjoy hiking we could walk there. And we have a theme park!”

“Walking to the beach sounds fun.”

They exchanged a smile, but the moment ended when George had to refocus his attention on the stove.

He poured the risotto rice into the pan and brought the fire up. After a bit of stirring, he added the white wine while Oli filled up both of their glasses with what was left of the bottle. Despite remaining focused on the rice, George was also very aware of Oli’s presence next to him. He could feel her gaze fixed on his hands, while her silhouette piqued in the corner of his eye.

As he hoped that she would enjoy the risotto, he wondered if she would also like being over more often. Whether it was to cook or simply to chat would be for her to decide. And to him. Of course. Not that he was expecting anything else but cooking together that is…

George cleared his throat at the thought of sharing dinner with Oli every evening for the foreseeable future. It was a pleasant image, but perhaps one to better not linger on in her presence.

Slowly and while never tearing his eyes away from the stove, George added the broth, mixing until the rice had absorbed all of it before pouring more. Oli, he noticed from the corner of his eye, never moved away. She merely shuffled in place, leaning one way or another against the counter. George swore he could feel her eyes on him at all times, but he must have dreamed. She had that smartphone she had told him about. Surely there was something more interesting on it than him cooking rice.

As finishing touches, George cracked black pepper over the pan and sprinkled in the parmesan.

Finally turning back to her, he was surprised to find her already facing him. Oli looked expectantly, a small smile forming on the corner of her lips, no phone in sight.

“It’s ready,” he declared at last, causing Oli’s eyes to crinkle.

Once they were both seated, she hummed pleasantly as the scent of the risotto reached her.

“It smells amazing.”

“Thank you! Now let’s hope it tastes amazing too.”

Without further ceremony, Oli picked up her fork and declared: “Smakelijk!”

George chuckled.

“Bon appétit?” he answered hesitantly.

“Très bien!” she played along.

Both beaming, they dug their forks into the meal. The night was one of laughter and shared smiles. Oli spoke further of her aunt and how she had introduced her to the arts through frequent museum visits. He encouraged her to speak further, showing interest in her craft and asking about her start as a tattoo artist. Oli seemed flattered by the situation, eyes crinkling with happiness at the chance to speak more about herself for a change, and George could not ask for more.

#george weasley #george weasley fluff #no tricks fanfic #george weasley imagines #george weasley fanfiction #hp fluff #hp imagines #hp fanfic #nille writes #george weasley x oc

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seasurfacefullofclouds1 · 2 years ago

Note

Jokes aside, people don’t actually appreciate the fact how difficult it is for an artist like Louis who had no radioplay or festival support to be able to manage and put on a successful first tour. It required a lot of grit and determination. It’s not easy, three of his other bandmates have much better sales and streaming numbers than him but they aren’t touring right now. Niall had the best openers one can imagine for his first tour. He had radioplay and industry support. He still didn’t reschedule his second tour after covid. He is doing everything possible now, going on the voice, playing European festivals etc. to ensure that he sells out. You can bet his tour shows won’t be as cheap as Louis. So many artists have cancelled their tours because it is challenging. Harry was always set up for success, didn’t he have all the celebrities turn up to his shows right from the beginning to show how cool it was to be at a Harry show. Weren’t all the media and influencers there to make it the most talked about thing right from the get go? He didn’t have to put it all together like Louis had to, you can bet any money on the fact that he wasn’t going on every detail like how far the audience would be from the stage and what the production would look like? He wasn’t reworking his songs with his musical director to just have the right kind energy for the live shows. He was instead working out in the gym and doing fittings for his customised wardrobe stolen from Juan Gabriel. Everything else was done for him, a multi Grammy winner was his opener, I have never understood why would Kacey Musgraves open for Harry Styles on his first album. To me that is misogynistic within itself but everyone does what the Azoffs want I guess. Anyway I am getting side tracked, what I am trying to say is that although Louis makes it look like it’s all fun and games, all he is doing is drinking, smoking and partying, there is a lot of work that goes into it. The attention to detail at his shows cannot be matched even by big huge production values the big artists have. His crew is so well looked after. A person who doesn’t care is not going to put in all that effort to bring in that kind of quality.

When I read stupid opinions which are passed around by the Larries like gospel without using any sort of critical thinking it makes my blood boil. Louis has put a lot of effort into putting on a successful tour despite all odds, I wish people wouldn’t minimise his achievements just because they see him having a good time and not sulking in a darkened corner.

Louis wrote an entire album with the focus on the tour shows. His co-writers understood that the production would have to reflect a live show.

You can also see the attention to production design in the live shows— the pyro, the special effects, the way that lighting syncs up with the music.

The 20 x 8 light grids in the LTWT backdrop. DN4. The way Fearless has its own video graphics. The black and white graphics for Only The Brave to contrast the rainbow flags and lights in the audience (🏳️‍🌈 which Oli knew about).

The way Louis listened to soundchecks from various parts of the venues to gauge how they sounded.

The way Louis gives opportunities to smaller / unsigned artists to open for him.

The meticulous post-show playlist. Louis’ outfits acknowledging the colors of regional football teams and sometimes the rivalries (Amsterdam, Latam, Italy).

The low ticket prices, meeting the audiences where they live, instead of the audiences having to trek to NYC. Never using dynamic pricing, even though it’s an option. Offering audiences full refunds on the pre-Covid concert tickets we had bought, and then carrying through with the scheduled tour.

Taking precautions during Omicron to switch out band members so they could quarantine and stay safe. Never having to cancel a show as a result.

Spending money on crew comforts during the tour— not only providing housing, travel, and meals, but a floating cocktail bar, parties, outings, business class tickets, five-star hotels, celebrations of milestones (Matt D’s stag party), time off to pursue their own music (Isaac’s gigs), spending money for group tattoos.

And then on top of all of this thoughtfulness and consideration, to finish recording and mastering a 20-track album, plan promo, shoot for promo articles and gigs, plan and play a festival in another country.

All this for a man who supposedly wants to stay home and “watch his husband become a mega star.” Stupidity doesn’t even begin to describe this attitude.

#louis tomlinson

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localplaguenurse · 8 months ago

Note

What if we untramautised not-oncerler

I’m like trying to imagine what an “untraumatized” Jason would look like and that is a Whole Other Dude. An actually semi well adjusted character.

He’s probably doing the music thing still but he’s like... a Christian rock singer or something, like Skillet. And I do like Skillet btw they actually go pretty hard (my music taste is pretty much “edgy 2006 AMV and Shadow the Hedgrhog tribute music”). No drugs, no abusive ex, no self harm, that’s a completely different guy. Still a bit of a hot head but he gets it from his dad.

There’s a part of me who wants to say he probably never would have met or dated Oli. Part of me wants to say he has that white picket fence and a wife and 2.5 kids life but no. No not even well adjusted Christian rock Jason would care for that sort of life style. What I CAN see though is him meeting Oli by chance (Jason has family that live in the same town as Oli) and having a Sexuality Crisis over the 6ft tattooed goth prince.

You’ve given me something to ponder. I will consult the orb.

#ask #ivy!#I’m not addressing the name

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ice-cap-k · 1 year ago

Text

By the Light of Santa Perla

Day 2 of Whumptober. Is this Whump yet?

Cross-posted on AO3 here: By the Light of Santa Perla

_____________________________________

Sausage scratched at the walls of his cell mindlessly. The rough-hewn stone had already worn down his fingernails to nubs. The skin beneath tore open wider and wider with every scrape against the rock. A red stain was spreading out in an arc with every motion. It was small for now but would grow as the blood accumulated and dripped down in little red rivulets, just like before.

Red like the granite and bricks in the roofs and walls of the Sanctuary he built for himself. He could do so much better than the sorry excuse for a builder that put this place together. If they had put him in charge, he could have made the cells just as bleak and intimidating. Moreso, even. Vaulted ceilings and a more interesting mix of colors and materials could strike fear into hearts better than a stone brick box. This place could use more black. More red. Red carpets. Red masonry. Red sheep… no. He shook his head, though nobody was around to see it. No red sheep. That was a different life. He was an angel now.

His wings dragged the floor behind him as he scratched away. White feathers were stained brown and grey where they mopped up the damp and grime. Bent and broken primary shafts scraped across the floor with every twitch of his shoulder muscles, and if he were to stand up and pace the length of the room, then some of the looser, more damaged ones would fall in a trail behind him. The rotten patches were more numerous among the primaries at the far ends of his wings. Only when the rot started to fester on the coverts close to his muscle and bone did he start ripping out feathers to keep it from settling as an infection. Feathers could grow back. Wings could not regrow. Unless he died again, but that was impossible. This was his last life. The life after all others. A gift from Santa Perla. He wouldn’t throw it away needlessly.

So many others had already done so. Scott, Jimmy, Gem... Flickering lights that flared too bright and fizzled out as one by one they burned through their lives. He hadn’t been the only one left when he left the cathedral. Oli was still back there, and he hadn’t seen Joey or Shubble for a while. They could have still been around. But that world was so brutal. A life in itself is so fragile. He had lost track of how much time he had been there. Months? He hadn’t thought to keep count of the sunsets or sunrises. And by the time that it occurred to him to keep track, would anyone be left to find him If he came crashing back down?

Scratch.

Scritch.

Scratch.

Maybe he should have died. Let it end on the whims of fate like his friends. As far as he knew, he was the only one that chose to leave. And that had backfired royally. The guiding light of the moon had been good to him. Smiled on him with all the warmth and radiance of his goddess, promising direct passage to her waiting arms. The wind had practically swelled beneath his once pristine feathers, spurned on by the heartfelt tribute Oli sang for him as he departed. It was a beautiful hymn. Oli always had a talent for music. He hadn’t felt alone then.

But now he was. He was alone. Alone. Alone. Alone alone alone alone alone alone alone-

Sausage’s head twitched sharply, rattling with a hollow thunk as it bounced off the wall. None of that. Not now. Not today. Not tonight? Was it tonight yet? One look at the little window across the room framed an empty square of navy. Soon, but not quite.

Scritch.

Scratch.

.Sometimes he imagined he wasn’t. Alone, that is. He was good at coming up with voices. And he knew his friends. They may have moved on to somewhere he couldn’t reach, but his memories remain vivid and bright. Being left to sit in a dirty grey box for so long had done nothing to dull their sparkle.

He pulled his hands away from the wall. One finger swiped absently at his lip. He licked away the blood still pooling at the ragged edge of his fingernail. “What do you think, Scott? You’ve got an eye for design. I think this place could use a bit more red.”

There was no answer. He had to fill that space himself.

Scott’s voice was a bit more nasally. A bit softer spoken. He couldn’t do the accent justice, but he tried. “Red? You always go red. You’re not planning on starting some blood cult again are you?”

“What? Me? No way. That’s crazy. You know I’d never do anything like that, heheheh.”

No answer. Oh right. Scott had to answer.

“Likely story. Those walls aren’t helping your case, mister.”

Sausage waved away the jab, switching back to his own natural voice. “You’re one to talk. You spent one of your lifetimes as an actual vampire. I don’t know why I even asked you. All of your builds are teal.”

“Yes, and they’re all on point, thank you very much.”

“Got me there buddy. What do you think, Gem? Psst! Gem!” He lowered his voice. “Back me up here.”

Silence. He had to fill that void to. “You know Scott,” he trilled, dropping Scott’s accent and pitching up his voice. “Sausage has a point. Red is a lovely color that can be used in a lot of good designs. Especially ones that don’t involve blood magic.”

“You too, Gem?! You too? Betrayal! Oh the humanity. That wasn’t even during this adventure. I’ll have you know that I am a changed man. An Angel! Remember?”

“I thought those were just for show.” A new voice this time. Teasing and scratchy, more self-assured than it had much right to be.

“You stay out of this Jimmy! Or do you want us to go back to teasing you?”

“WHAAT!”

Sausage couldn’t do Jimmy’s shout of exasperation justice. It just didn’t sound like him. He laughed, dropping the voices completely. He instead folded his arms across the tops of his knees and let his head drop. Forehead bounced on his forearm before settling. Too long strands of brown hair slipped down along his head. Draped along the sides of his knees. Eyes screwed shut against a tide of tears. He made no effort to keep the shake out of his lungs. Didn’t try to stifle the sobs as they rose with his shoulders. Why bother to hide it? There wasn’t anyone around to care that he was crying.

It was about all he had left. There was no way out. No food. No tools. Nothing that he could use to damage himself and put an end to it all, not that he would. But the thought was starting to grow tempting.

The people who had snatched him had been lucky that he had left behind his worldly possessions. Had he thought to bring his sword, he would have smote them with divine and righteous fury.

They were committing a crime against the heavens by keeping him here. But his captors were clever. He hadn’t crossed the threshold to the true Afterlife yet when they found him. Had yet to reach the world beyond the world. The place where Santa Perla resided. He was no fallen angel, but he was outside the direct influence of the divine. They found him before he could cross that line.

Even now, his goddess couldn’t reach him. Only look down on him from the silver moon in the sky, the light from which was only visible for an hour between the bars in the only window Sausage’s captors had afforded him.

He had tried breaking out, of course. That window had been the first thing he tried. The bars were sturdy, but after a few nights started to loosen as he constantly worked at them. His heart had soared the day he managed to knock out the first bar. It fell outside. He never heard the thump or clank of it hitting the ground. The second bar took more time. By then, he was growing tired. He felt low on energy all the time. His captors had not bothered to provide meals over the days. Wiggling the bars a little each day was about all he could manage.

Eventually, the second bar came loose as well. Without it, the window was just an empty gap in the wall above his head. It should have been enough. It should have been an open door to his freedom. But when he managed to crawl up to its ledge, it was all he could do to stick his head through the gap. It was too small to fit through, no matter what angle he tried. His shoulders were too wide. Even without the wings, the window was just too small.

The next logical conclusion was to make the gap bigger. His options were limited. There were no tools or utensils he could use to chisel away at the wall. That was where the habit of scratching at the walls must have started.

Sausage let his head roll to the side. He eyed the window at the far side of the room through the screen of his hair. The outline of the now star dappled night sky was framed by black and brown. Layers upon layers of dried blood crusted the edges, but from this distance and with the tears still in his eyes, those edges were a bit blurred. He could almost convince himself that the red patches on the sides of the gap were actually curtains.

The stone block making up the bottom ledge of the window, however, was unmarked. Not a speck of red on it. There had been a different brick there before. One that had been considerably more stained than the others. That had been his last hope.

It had taken so long, but even rock can be shaped by the friction of bare palms and nails and teeth, if you keep at it long enough. He had kept up as best he could, considering he had been running on empty for who knew how long? Breaks were frequent, but so was his worrying away at the mortar holding the rock in place. He had been foolish enough to get his hopes up when he started noticing the heavy brick getting looser. It got to the point where he could rock it back and forth a little if he pressed at its top hard enough with a severe enough angle. If he could just move that one brick, he could have enough room to fit his head and shoulders out the window. That was all he needed.

But that hope died in his chest when he woke up from one of his mid-day naps to see that someone had replaced the brick and bars while he was passed out. The new mortar was spread out messily from the edges of the new rock. It was already dry to the touch when he managed to stumble within reach.

Everything he had worked on could be undone in the span of, what? An hour? The futility of all of his efforts hit hard, and he didn’t bother picking himself up after the impact.

“At least I still have you, Santa Perla,” he managed to croak out. As if in response, the edge of a half-moon crested the corner of the little window. Her silver glow washed over him, making his ruined feathers sparkle a brilliant white like they once had.

It was almost blindingly bright in his dreary box. He raised his head and stretched out an arm towards the window. Shafts of moonlight broke over his fingers and knuckles, wrapping around his wrist like someone taking his hand in theirs. He could almost picture the goddess’s sad smile framed within the bright disk in the sky.

He leaned into the light, basking in her glory. She couldn’t be with him directly. Couldn’t reach him. But he knew she would stay with him like this for as long as possible, offering what comfort she could.

A smile played at the corner of his lips. He started to pray. The words came to his tongue easily. He knew these words well. It was a prayer he had sent to her every night since he got here. One that he believed deep down would be answered someday.

He prayed for freedom. For deliverance. To one day return to her side as he had fully intended. And that those who saw fit to keep him here burned in the deepest, darkest pit of the Nether.

#whumptober 2023 #prompt no. 3 #like crying out in empty rooms with no one there except the moon #solitary confinement #Minecraft: Afterlife SMP #creative writing #blood #insanity #captivity #angel mythical sausage #pearlescentmoon

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pecanwriter · 11 months ago

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Very Uncool Love Story part 4 (MPREG, WG story)

Themes: M/M MPREG romance (low key slow burn) between a fat librarian and a disabled punk musician

Words: 2989

Part: 4/?

Tooting Broadway tube station was nearly deserted, there was a uni student in a questioning state of inebriation hunched over by the ATM and a London Underground employee nearly integrated into the wall by the top-up machines where he snoozed standing up. Someone dropped a bag of KFC and the corpses of fries and chicken were spread half across the entrance.

It was hardly the ideal location for a second kiss, but they kissed anyway, Oliver pressed against Larry’s gut and Larry’s arms wrapped tightly around Oliver’s tiny waist.

“Do you want to go get a drink?” Larry asked almost desperately, suddenly very unwilling to part from Oliver.

“Oh, I'd love to, really, but I'm not feeling too well, I think I'm just gonna call it a night.”

“What's the matter? I noticed you looked tired.”

“It's nothing, I'm just not getting enough sleep lately…”

Oliver shrugged, rubbing his pale cheek absent-mindedly. Larry put his hand over Oliver’s, gently brushing the omega’s cheek with his thumb. Oliver looked up at him and for a moment they just looked at each other. Oliver must have seen something he liked in Larry’s gaze because his lips tilted slightly into a lob-sided smile and he dragged Larry down again for another kiss.

“Get outta fuckin’ way!” Someone barged past them to get to the ticket gates. The man shouldered Oliver in the back in his hurry and Larry found himself once again with his arms wrapped around Oliver’s waist.

“Fuckin’ prick!” Oliver hollered after the man, the “fucking” sounded more like “fucken”. Larry had to stifle a laugh.

“Are you okay?” He asked when he was sure he wasn’t going to laugh.

“Fine.” Oli looked up at him again, his thin eyebrow once again forming an impressive arch. “What’s that face?”

“Nothing, I just… Like you.”

“I like you too, angel-voice.” Oli kissed him before letting out a gentle huff and playfully swatting Larry’s hands away. “Okay, enough! I need to get some sleep. I will text you, okay?”

“O-okay, sleep well!” Larry called and then stood at the empty station, watching Oli’s white hair disappear down the escalator.

Larry felt like a kid. He sat on the bus with butterflies in his stomach and a smile on his face. He made accidental eye contact with a teenager and the boy looked so utterly repulsed by the concept of a middle-aged man smiling that it promptly wiped the smile away from Larry’s face.

Nevertheless, he felt positively giddy all the way home.

The fact he didn’t empty the rubbish bin before going out became very obvious as soon as he stepped into his flat and was assaulted with the overdo garbage smell.

He was back downstairs, almost to the bins when his phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Did you make it home?”

Larry held the phone against his cheek with his shoulder while fighting with the rubbish bags that wouldn’t cooperate. Still, the smile came back to his face despite the fact some unidentifiable garbage substance smeared itself on his sweater.

“Oh, hey, Oliver!”

“How are you always surprised when I call? You have my number saved, right?”

“Of course I do, I just didn’t look.”

“Okay, good. I would feel pretty cheap after making out with a guy who didn’t even have my number saved.”

Larry felt giddy again. He made out with a hot guy, he did! Somehow, it only felt real after hearing it from Oliver’s lips.

“Why did you call?” “I missed you.”

Larry laughed, taking the phone away from his face so Oliver wouldn’t hear him huffing as he climbed the stairs.

“We should’ve gone for that drink then.”

“How about lunch tomorrow? I’m off.”

“You could come to the library… if you want.”

“You okay? Your breathing’s hard.”

“I’m climbing the stairs up to my flat.” Larry huffed “I was hoping you wouldn’t hear, that’s pretty embarrassing.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Oliver said in a voice that sent a shiver down Larry’s spine. Did he imagine that tone?

“I’d love to come to the library,” Oliver said after Larry said nothing for way too long.

“I’ll text you the address.” “Did you make it up the stairs?”

“Yeah, at last, but it was a tough battle.”

Oliver laughed and Larry couldn’t help marvelling at how clear and beautiful his voice was even while doing something so trivial.

“I’m waiting for my frozen lasagna to cook, what are you doing?” Oliver asked.

“I was just thinking of what to do about dinner. Lasagna sounds good right about now.” “You should get one, it’s gonna be like we’re on a date! But I can go to bed right after and don’t have to dress up.”

Larry laughed, fishing for a frozen lasagna in his own freezer.

They talked for over two hours and they only stopped because Oli fell asleep. Larry listened to his steady breathing for a few moments before ending the call. When he went to the bathroom to wash up for the night he discovered there was still a slight smile spread across his face.

Oliver: I’m here, it’s so huge. Come rescue me.

It was the first text Larry got from Oliver the next day and until that moment he didn’t even realise how nervous he was that the omega wouldn’t come.

It took him no time at all to spot Oliver in front of the library. He was wearing a very tiny Ramones shirt showing off his slim belly and a ragged denim mini skirt. He had fishnets on, revealing tattoos and two bony knees. His ragged leather jacket was thrown over his shoulders artfully and his crutch had a black ribbon woven around it.

“Oli, hey.”

Oli smiled widely at him, stepping closer, he gently dragged Larry down for a kiss.

“Hey, angel-voice,” Oli said in a low tone.

“You look really pretty.”

“You don’t mind the skirt?”

“No, of course not, it looks lovely on you.”

Oliver's light eyes examined Larry carefully, but soon enough he gave him a glorious smile and a quick but hard kiss.

“This is nice too, I haven’t seen you do that before.” Larry pointed to the crutch ribbon.

“I thought I would do something special today.” Oli shrugged and then shivered.

“Alright, let’s get you inside.” Larry rubbed some heat into Oli’s thin back. “I'm sorry there's no lift…”

“It's fine, I will manage,” Oli reassured but looked at the stairs with hesitation.

Larry offered him a hand and Oli took it gladly, grabbing on firmly and starting the climb. It went quite smoothly and Oli didn't seem very put upon, but Larry still felt terrible; he didn't even think about the accessibility of the building. If he was serious about dating Oli, he would have to pay more attention to his disability. It was easy with Oli's limited vision. Because of Ariana, it came naturally to Larry after so many years, but the leg was something new.

“Oli.” He stopped the omega before going inside.

“What's up?”

“I'm sorry, I should've mentioned there was no lift earlier, I should've paid more attention to your needs.”

“It's okay, Larry, really, don't worry about it…” Oli waved him off.

“No, it's not.” Larry grabbed Oli’s chin, forcing him to look up. “You deserve to have your needs met, it’s not that difficult. I’m sorry, I will do better.”

Oli let out a soft sigh, followed by an equally soft smile. He patted Larry’s cheek.

“You’re the sweetest man in England, you know that?”

Larry, feeling his face heat up, said nothing and instead guided Oli inside. He was pretty sure he heard Oli tsk behind him.

“There’s a Cafe inside, they have great food.”

“Show me where you work first!” Oliver insisted, curiously looking around. “You don’t work with the customers, right?”

“How did you know?”

“You’re not really…” Oli covered his mouth “I’m sorry, Larry! You’re not really a customer-service kind of person.”

Larry opened his mouth to reply with something at least moderately offended, but then what was there to say to the truth?

“I’m sorry, don’t be mad!”

“I’m not, you’re right.” He admitted with a sigh “I work in the office, with data management mostly. Of the user base and of the book database. I’m actually designing my own filing system… But you don’t want to hear about that, it’s boring.”

“It’s not boring to you.” Oli smiled “You don’t have to tell me now, but tell me some other time, if you want.”

Larry gave the top of Oli’s head a quick peck, feeling the heat in his chest this time, not his face. Larry’s stomach chose that moment to growl.

“Alright, let me quickly show you the office and then I clearly need some lunch.” Larry chuckled, mildly embarrassed.

“...And here’s my desk,” Larry announced. There was nobody in the office, most of the other people went out to lunch, so they had a few minutes to themselves for Oli to satisfy his curiosity about the “backstage of the library” as he called it.

“Very nice, let’s see.” Oli sat down at Larry’s desk and took a spin on his office chair. He pressed the phone to his ear “Hello, this is Larry’s office, how can I help?”

Larry laughed.

“What’s going on here?”

Larry whipped around to see Sharon standing there with her arms crossed and her eyebrows furrowed.

“And who is this?” She added, looking over Larry’s shoulder.

“Oh, I’m Larry’s boyfriend, he was just showing me where he works.” Oli beamed at Sharon.

“Oh…” Larry doubted her eyes could possibly be any wider. “Well, you shouldn’t be in here.”

“Sorry about that! We will get going then.” Oli beamed at her again as he motioned for Larry to help him up off the chair.

They nearly flew out of the office, holding hands and giggling like kids.

“Boyfriend?” Larry asked once they were out in the public corridor again.

“If you want?” Oli smiled and Larry could almost believe the innocence if it wasn’t for the mischievous glint in his eye.

Larry replied by kissing Oli against the wall. They got reprimanded for their PDA twice before they finally managed to get lunch.

A week later, after another visit to The Hole, Oli invited Larry to his apartment for a drink. Larry was, naturally, terrified. Oli didn’t mention anything over the phone and just sprung the question out of the blue when they were at the club. Larry agreed out of sheer panic. What else could he do?

The problem was, if Oli had anything more than drinks in mind Larry was finished. He didn’t even consider the possibility of their relationship moving any further. It’s been so long since he’d done this, and even longer since he’d successfully gone on more than two dates that he simply forgot about the possibility of sex. To say he was unkempt would be an understatement of the century. Larry was a hairy guy and there was a lot of hair… Everywhere. He knew some people were enthusiastically into hairy dudes, but he was hairy in all the wrong places! Not to mention his very out-of-shape physique and the fact that his recent escapades with Cyberpunk 2077 had him gaining so much weight he now also sported noticeable stretch marks. He couldn’t imagine a world where Oli would be fine with all that. If he’d known sooner he’d at least get his stupid back waxed…

“Helloo, Earth to Larry…” Larry’s attention snapped to Oli’s face which appeared right in front of him.

“I’m sorry, what?” They were on the Northern Line, going to Oli’s apartment. The train was loud and Larry wondered if he was so overtaken with his panic that he filtered Oli out or if it was so damn loud that he just didn’t hear him.

“I asked…” Oli started but was unable to finish as the train came to a stop with a violent jolt, making Oli fall face-first into Larry’s chest.

“Here, mate, take a seat.” a man in the brightest pair of Jordans Larry had ever seen got out of his seat.

“Thanks!” Oli smiled at the man and Larry held his hand firmly as he lowered himself into the seat.

“Oh, what are you reading?” Larry asked, noticing an obvious book shape visible through Oli’s tote back now that it lay flat in his lap.

“Ulysses.” Oli took the book out to show Larry. It was, indeed, a battered copy of James Joyce’s Ulysses.

“Oh, wow, really? That’s a difficult book to get through.”

“Well, I like it,” Oli said, putting the book back in the bag and crossing his arms, not looking at Larry.

Larry felt like he did something, but he was damned if he knew what.

Soon enough they arrived in Camden Town, because naturally, Oliver lived in Camden, and his mood seemed to be back to normal, but Larry still felt like he should’ve apologised, only he didn’t know how to apologise for something he didn’t know he did.

Oli lived on the ground floor of a building that wasn’t as disgusting as buildings in Camden could get, but still, it wasn’t the prettiest. Larry supposed that was the aesthetic punks and rockers generally preferred, but personally, it made him a little nervous.

“Welcome to my crib,” Oli said, unlocking the brownish wooden door that once upon a time seemed to have been red.

The inside of the flat was much better than the outside suggested. Oli’s style of decorating could only be described as eclectic. There were psychedelic paintings artfully misaligned on the walls, posters of bands upon bands covering the rest of the walls like wallpaper and what was left bare of the walls was a deep, cumin powder orange. There were no ceiling lamps but instead, Oli had Christmas lights wrapped around various items of furniture and a myriad of small, weirdly shaped standing lamps scattered about. Larry couldn’t see two pieces of furniture belonging to a set, they were all different, all old and most of them terribly ugly. There was an ungodly amount of bizarrely colourful pillows on every sitting surface, going perfectly with an obscene amount of patterned rugs and blankets. To complete this artistic chaos there were at least three guitars, a keyboard, a panflute and a regular flute. Books and CDs were stacked high on every surface available to them. There was no dust and the apartment smelled clean, it wasn’t dirty by any means it was just… Chaotic. Larry couldn’t stop looking around, examining every nook and discovering something new and fascinating in it.

“I feel like I’m in an alternative universe,” Larry said finally. “This place is incredible.”

Oli beamed at him.

“Find yourself a place to sit, I’ll get the wine.” Oli turned the CD player on and limped his way to the kitchen.

Something old was playing, Larry wasn’t sure but he thought it might’ve been Janis Joplin.

Larry busied himself with looking through the stacks of newspapers and books on the coffee table in front of the low couch he decided to sit on.

Soon, Oli flopped down next to him with a bottle of red and two glasses, which he somehow managed to hold in between his fingers while still holding his crutch.

“Oh, this is so adorable.” Larry looked through an elementary school writing practice book meticulously filled out three-fourths through “Did you do this?”

When he received no reply, he looked up just to come face to face with a clenched jaw and teary eyes.

“Oliver…?”

“Yes, I did it.” Oliver said through gritted teeth “I filled out hundreds of them and I still can't always make it inside the lines. That’s what a brain aneurysm does to you.” Larry stared at Oliver, anxiety raising in his stomach almost to his throat. “I can't… I can't stand this.” Oli rubbed his face “I can't stand your little comments and how surprised you are when I say or do something you consider smart. I don't understand why you wanted to go out with me if you think I'm so stupid? Do you just wanna fuck me? That's fine, no problem!” Oliver started undoing his belt buckle, his hands shaking.

“What? No! Oliver, stop! Stop it!” He grabbed Oliver's thin wrist but let go as soon as the smaller man flinched.

Larry stared at Oliver, belt hanging loose and eyes overflowing with tears. Larry's stomach was so tight he felt like he was about to pass out.

“I don't think you're stupid, when have I ever said that?”

“You didn't, but I'm not as stupid as you think, I can read between the lines.” his voice was deceptively calm but the tears streaming down his face told the whole story well enough. Larry wanted more than anything to touch Oli, but he didn't dare.

“Oliver, I'm sorry, I…”

Oli pushed himself to his feet, turning his back to Larry. He hugged himself with one hand and the other was clutched so tightly around the crutch handle that his knuckles turned white.

Larry didn't dare move, he just sat there, staring at Oliver's back.

“Please, leave,” Oliver said finally.

“Oli…”

“No. Don't. Just… leave.”

“Don't do this, let's talk about it…”

Oliver started walking towards the door but miscalculated in his hurry and dropped his crutch mid-step. He managed to soften the fall by grabbing onto a chair but nevertheless ended up on the floor.

“Are you okay?” Larry rushed to him, but Oliver shook his hand away.

“I'm fine” Oli gritted through his teeth. “Leave!”

Larry looked at Oliver, still half-sprawled on the floor, his face covered in tears and he simply… Ran. Like a coward. He got up and left without a word.

Larry didn’t even remember how he got home. His chest burned, his face burned, his throat burned, his eyes burned. What has he done?!

#bhm #chubby boy #mpreg #mpregnancy #mpreg fiction #bhm fiction #mpreg writing

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whiskeyscreams · 5 months ago

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THE 𝑯͟𝑬͟𝑳͟𝑳 I OVERCAME. [ PT. 1 ]

"𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝑑𝑖𝑒 . . . i disagree. i believe it takes real courage to 𝒍𝒊𝒗𝒆." - oliver alexander of blood oaths for alternative press ( AP ) magazine, 2024.

he was trembling. lithe digits gripping the gilded doorhandle to the upscale salon. cold, pristinely polished metal glinting back at him. breathe, ol, breathe. . . this appointment had been on the books for weeks. made almost the millisecond he'd banked the first paycheck he'd earned from the first out-of-state gig booked for his band by ICARUS RECORDS. He was nervous even now, tucking a loose strand of brunette hair behind his ear. forcing himself to breathe, he pulls on the handle to open the solid glass door. immediately greeted by the loud, high-pitched whine of a hairdryer somewhere toward the back of the sleekly modern, whitewashed interior. the hum of electric clippers causing his heart to go into a painfully hard rhythm. "i'll be right there darling!" the familiar sound of his stylist, selune's voice calls out before he sees the tall figure come into view. pausing for a moment when she sees him, her surprise evident within the pale green of her irises, though quickly hidden behind a dazzlingly white smile. "oli! what a treat, i wasn't expecting you for another six weeks." painful shuddering breaths prevent him from responding right away. for several days before this moment, he had been periodically staring at the appointment in his icloud calendar that had been scheduled by a receptionist. wondering if he shouldn't have texted selune ahead of time instead of saving this enormous request to the last moment. he had, of course, decided against it. fearing his courage would ultimately fail if he was given time to think it all through.

a wavering smile offered to the woman he'd been coming to for the past year and a half. he steps forward timidly, taking another fortifying breath. as he meets her clear green gaze. "oli? what's wrong?" all of her previously bubbly personality traded for concern at the look spreading across the vocalist's face. "oh dear, come darling. . . we'll talk." beckoning him to follow her. she headed back towards the back of the salon. "start with a wash as usual?" careful to keep her voice calm. she motioned to one of the chairs positioned in front of a sink. oli listening to her wordlessly, settling himself into the cool leather of the seat and laying back against the lip of the sink, his breath shaky as she carefully stroked her fingers through his hair, gathering the stray strands. closing his eyes when he feels the kiss of warm water on his scalp and selune begins to work her magic, first lathering him up with tea tree shampoo, the cool, earthy scent of eucalyptus oil soothing his frayed nerves. then rinsing to follow with the pairing conditioner. she hums as she works and for a moment. he feels his courage gathering. after all, he is here. . . the appointment has begun and he hasn't run from the building, yet. while selune carries on with her task, he thinks back to the studio session he'd been in earlier in the day. his bandmate, santi, had made a comment about how oli always seemed to have the best hair out of all of them aside from aurora, and the pang he'd felt in his stomach when he imagined their expressions of shock when they saw what he'd done the next day. drawing in another shaking, emotion-choked breath. "talk to me, darling . . . what is wrong? you're pale as a ghost." selune prompts as she helps him to sit up when she has finished. using a heated towel to gently pat him dry again before beckoning him to follow her into a chair a little further from where her other clients sat. she doesn't get paid enough for this. . . he thinks to himself, still unable to bring himself to speak into existence the heartache that threatens to tumble from his lips if he tries to open his mouth. finding his tongue dry. "sit, love, let me bring you some water." she says coaxingly, indicating the stylist's chair, and she disappears. reappearing a few minutes later with a crystal glass. offering it to him and then going to lean against the counter where her tools are already laid out, waiting to be used. he'd been eying the scissors warily when she walked up. but graciously, she doesn't say a word about her observation. maintaining her silence while he takes a large gulp of water from the glass. waiting still, until he swallowed and then finally.

"i . . . want a haircut. . ." he begins, his voice quavering a little bit, forcing him to clear his throat. selune nodded. "i thought as much. . . that is what you made the appointment for." her comment earns a half-hearted smile. but then he closes his eyes, forcing himself to breathe. "cut it off, sel. . . all of it." her sharp intake of breath makes his eyes snap open. "oliver. . . oli, are you sure?" she stammers. a crease forming between her flawlessly shaped dark brows. walking up to put her hand on his shoulder in a comforting gesture. "i'm fucking positive." he breathes between gritted teeth. choking on the hard lump of emotion rapidly forming in his throat. feeling her hand gently squeezing where it rested on his shoulder. ". . . it's hair. . . it'll grow back. i---i can't do it anymore." he chokes out. "i can't hear another fucking person tell me its beautiful—.” his words trailing off, he reached up and brushed away an escaped tear from his cheek. “ . . .that i look like him. . . like that fucking monster. i'm sick of it selune, i drove four thousand fucking miles to be rid of him, but i every fucking time I look in the mirror i see him. . . i don't want to look like him. . . i want to look like me." he says plaintively and as he speaks, the second of what he's sure will be many silent tears is already threatening to fall. held in suspense by his lashes, which flutter against his cheeks briefly while he fought to remain composed. his voice breaking when again, he speaks.

"sel. . . please. . . just fucking cut it off. . ."

lord help me, his stylist thinks. twisting where she stands to pick up three of the neatly laid out tools, a brush, a comb, and the diamond-sharpened, stainless steel styling scissors. taking her place behind the chair. tucking them into her apron while she reached for the black plastic cape. saying nothing as she secured the paper tape around his neck to protect him from chaffing once the cape was in place. meanwhile, oliver was still doing the best he could to hold it together as he felt the pull and pressure of the brush brushing out the tangles, thankfully aided by the liberal amount of conditioner she had used earlier. then he takes another sharper, staggering breath as her fingertips gently position his head down and forward so she can get a good look at his hair. "do you want it buzzed. . . or do you have a new style in mind?" she prompts cautiously, resting her hand once more on his caped shoulder. at once a thought comes to him. where he had once thought to just cut it as short as he possibly could in an act of complete defiance and perhaps, impulse. he's now decided that at the very least he would do something to set himself apart.

"a wolf cut." he finally decided. meeting selune's gaze in the reflection of the mirror through his eyelashes momentarily before his eyes close and he chokes back a sob. anticipation of that first definitive snip causing tension to form along his spine, even with how comfortable her styling chair is. when it finally comes, soft and damn near impossible to hear. the sound rattles around his skull akin to the chains on shackles being unlocked and then falling away. each one bringing him closer to the man he so desperately wanted to be. but the feeling is bittersweet. though he never makes so much as a whimper or a sob. tears stream down the vocalist's cheeks. falling onto the black plastic of the cape covering him. yes, his hair is beautiful, it’s his most prized physical feature. but freedom is not without sacrifice, nor without pain. something the twenty-seven-year-old knows too well.

he was at the salon for another hour and a half and had fallen into a bit of a dazed dissociation before selune is finished, her voice gently prompting him to look up and see himself for the first time. meeting his own bloodshot gaze in the mirror while her back is turned, he was stunned by what he saw. hardly able to recognize himself in the reflection of the young man staring back at him through bloodshot, puffy eyes. "holy fuck. . ." he breaths, and selune's back stiffened. turning her head to look at him over her shoulder. "what? whats wrong?" she worries, eying her handiwork, searching for a mistake. "no, no. . . thank you, selune. . . you're a fucking miracle worker." he stammers. a pink flush coming to his cheeks. his lower lip caught between his teeth. now that the worst of it is over. he feels that he can finally breathe. "you set me free. . ." chuckling as he watched her let out a breath of relief and then picked up the hair dryer. approaching him with the device leveled like a pistol at his skull. "don't do that ol, you fucking scared me." she laughs, shaking her head. "you little shit." his answering quip swallowed by the sudden loud whirr of the hairdryer as she carefully brushes his hair dry. fluffing it out so he can admire the new style.

a few more minutes of careful styling later, and the cape is removed along with the tape. the tattooed vocalist rising to his feet. approaching his friend for a hug with a grateful, albeit watery smile. "thank you sel, you're fucking incredible, truly." as they pulled apart, she reached up to fix his new bangs. "how does it look?" he asks timidly, reaching up to feel the new length for himself.

"gorgeous darling, like the style was meant for you. but you should know, ol. . . it's not your hair or your looks that make you who you are. you already are unique. your music and the way you care for those around you are what set you apart. you are a good man. you did not need this haircut to prove anything. those qualities were already there." though she, being a stylist knows, that sometimes the right look helps unlock someone's desired image of themselves.

"still, selune, thank you. for everything. . ."

turning to walk with her to the front desk, pulling his wallet from his pocket to pay the bill. "what do i owe you?" but to his enormous surprise, she holds up a manicured hand. shaking her head. "nonsense, darling, your hair? i do it for free. just don't forget to tell people who keeps you looking your best." once again he is left speechless and a little bit dazed as he makes his way out of the salon into the late afternoon sunshine. feeling the caress of the wind on the back of his newly exposed neck. that'll take some getting used to. he thinks, waiting until he has slid into the soft leather of the shelby's driver seat. to flip down the visor and gaze at himself in the small mirror.

yes, he thinks . . . HELLO, OLIVER ALEXANDER.

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