#oliolioxenfree

[oliolioxenfreewrites]

An excerpt from the horror story series I’ll be posting tomorrow morning!

The Retreat

8 months ago…

It was supposed to be a celebratory hike. David had just landed a major distributor for his athleisure wear brand, and they decided to mark the occasion with a challenging trail they had been meaning to try. The weather in Maryland was perfect this time of year—cool and crisp, with a median level heat ideal for a long excursion.

They set out early, with the morning mist still clinging to the mountains. Monique felt on top of the world, hand in hand with David, their laughter echoing through the trees.

About two hours in, they reached a fork in the trail. The left path was well-maintained and led to a popular viewpoint. The right fork was overgrown and marked with a faded sign warning of unstable terrain.

"Let's take the next right," Monique suggested eagerly.

She began to stretch and lifted the back of her coily red-brown hair, which shimmered in the sunlight and tied it into a messy bun, preparing for the next segment of the trail. Her husband's face was filled with nothing, but apprehension.

David gazed skeptically at the ominous path ahead and asked, “Are you sure about this?”

“Oh, c'mon! Where's your sense of adventure, baby?” she teased, a mischievous glint in her eye.

David hesitated. “I don't know, Momo. That sign looks pretty serious.”

But Monique was insistent. “Trust me, it'll be fine. We're experienced hikers. Plus, imagine the view without all the tourists.”

Reluctantly, David agreed, knowing it would make Monique happy. And for the first mile, everything seemed fine; the path was rough but manageable. Then—they reached the cliffside portion...

The trail narrowed dramatically, hugging a sheer rock face with a dizzying drop to the right. Monique led the way with steady, confident strides, her resolve unwavering despite the precarious path. She glanced back periodically to check on David, noticing his forehead crinkle in that way she found endearingly adorable. It always amused her that this 6’2” muscular Italian, so strong and charismatic, could be unnerved by heights.

A twinge of remorse washed over her as she remembered how she had convinced him to come along on this adventure, despite his apprehension. She hoped the stunning views and sense of victory would eventually outrank his current anxiety.

“Momo, we seriously should turn back,” David called out, lagging behind his enthusiastic wife.

“Don’t worry, babe, we’re almost through,” Monique replied, seeing the clearing just a few steps ahead. “Just a little further.”

Those four words would haunt her forever.

A few steps later, she heard a sickening crumble, a sound that now echoes in her mind whenever she closes her eyes or feels anxious. The next thirty seconds shattered her world; the path beneath David's feet gave way. As Monique spun around in horror, she couldn’t even process the scene before her.

“David!” she shouted, reaching out desperately, but she was too far ahead. Their fingertips brushed, and their eyes locked for a split second before her husband plummeted into the abyss. It was the last time she touched or saw her college sweetheart.

The world seemed to slow down as Monique watched David disappear into the void. Her scream echoed through the mountains, a sound of pure anguish that was swallowed by the vast, indifferent wilderness. She fell to her knees, the weight of what had just happened crashing down on her. She could barely breathe, her chest tightening with a mix of shock and terror.

Minutes felt like hours as she scrambled to the edge, hoping against hope to see David clinging to something, anything. But there was nothing—just the sheer drop and the distant sound of rocks tumbling into the chasm below. The reality of the situation began to sink in, and with it came a flood of guilt and regret.

“Why had I convinced him to take this path? How could I have been so careless?!”

The next hours were a blur of frantic calls for help, rescue helicopters, and devastating news. Monique sat there, feeling detached from her body as they asked her all their typical questions; all she could hear was static. Despite the best efforts of the rescue teams, the news came that David hadn't survived the fall. Friends and family were notified, and the reality of the loss began to sink in as everyone tried to come to terms with the sudden tragedy.

In the days and weeks following the funeral, Monique was overwhelmed not only by all-consuming grief but also by a crippling sense of guilt. She found herself trapped in a storm of emotions, unable to escape the constant reminders of his loss and the nagging voice in her head that kept repeating, “If only I had listened to David, if only I had been more cautious, if only I could have saved him.”

Every moment without him felt like a lifetime, and the burden of her guilt grew heavier with each passing day. She often found herself either lost in a bottle of whatever she could find in their extensive stash to avoid leaving the house or endlessly, hopelessly, scrolling through ten years of memories in the darkness of their shared apartment in downtown Maryland. Her photos app mocked her every time she picked up her phone, thanks to the new and taunting 'Featured' section that adorns our technology today. She hadn’t worked or touched her art in months. Unless her twin brother Marcus, or her best friend Ashleigh brought her food—she wouldn’t even eat. She was constantly surrounded by the hall of fame of their love. The awards he won for the prosperity of his athleisure wear business, which she signed over to his family out of respect, still adorned the shelves. His clothes hung in the closet, and his shoes sat by the door as if waiting for him to come home.

It took Ashleigh planning this trip to wake her from her grief-ridden daze; she owed her friend her entire future.

Now, lying in bed in the dark cabin, Monique felt the weight of her actions more acutely than ever. She had come here seeking healing but was now confronting her deepest regrets in the most terrifying way possible. The shadows of the room seemed to press in around her, and the sounds of the forest outside took on an eerie, almost whispering quality.

She closed her eyes, trying to steady her breathing. The image of David’s fall played over and over in her mind, a relentless loop of her greatest nightmare. She clutched the blanket tightly, as if it could shield her from the torment within her own mind.

As dawn began to break, the faint light filtering through the curtains, Monique made a decision. She would confront whatever was taunting her—whether it was the memory of David, her own guilt, or something more sinister lurking in the woods. She needed to face it, to find some semblance of peace.

She owed David that much.

Monique opened her eyes with a deep breath and stared at the ceiling, feeling the first rays of sunlight touch her face. The journey ahead was still uncertain, but she felt a spark of determination for the first time in a long while. The path to healing would be painfully difficult, but she was finally ready to take the first step.

@drchenquill @illarian-rambling @kaylinalexanderbooks @leahpardo-pa-potato @slenders1ckn3ss @somethingclevermahogony @inky-duchess @sassystyl @rotting-moon-writes @highlycosmic @avaseofpeonies @oc-atelier @ceph-the-ghost-writer @paeliae-occasionally @davycoquette @unforgettable-sensations @hissorrow22 @boredwritergirl @scorpiothesaint @thewrathoffemaleragem @spookyceph @enne-uni if interested in joining or being removed, just let me know! :)

[olis-inkwell-symposium]

like this to be added to the official master post tag list for the multi author anthology! I'm looking to have around 4-5 to start with, but i’m aiming for this to be ongoing, so everyone is welcome! 🫶🏾

[jay-avian]

OC Music Tag

Thanks to @mysticstarlightduck for the tag!

I think I'm going to do a few OCs from different WIPs since I don't really have songs for many characters.

Korinn Mayastan - Steampunk WIP

About the character: Korinn is a green dragonborn who immigrated from her country for opportunity, eager to share her inventions. After hard work and making her way up the ladder, she is now the biggest leader in industry during the country's industrial revolution, as well as the heartthrob of the big city. Of course, the means to the ends of success aren't always... ethical.

Cog in the Machine - Franklyn Lubsey

It's Lonely At The Top - Big Bad Voodoo Daddy

Minnie the Moocher - Big Bad Voodoo Daddy

Let's Go! - Poor Man's Poison

Matthias Winterborne - (no WIP yet)

About the character: This half-elf and his human mother always had a rough time with finances, especially after his elven father left. Trying to make ends meet, Matt resorts to stealing for money. And after one wrong deal with the fae, he now has to steal for them too. As long as he gets to spite the rich and his father's name, then there's not much to complain about.

Providence - Poor Man's Poison

Hell's Comin' with Me - Poor Man's Poison

C'mon Down - Poor Man's Poison

I'm Still Here - Colm R. McGuinness

Compass - Sail North (this one is iffy for me, but it feels nice for a possible character development path)

Caspian Barrack - Kraken's Bane/Morgensturm

About the character: Orphaned at a young age, Caspian always had a problem with people who have authority. Seeking independence and freedom, he'll do anything to get any semblance of power, whether that be through finances, fear, or anything he can get his hands on. With his wits and strength, this pirate captain loves to explore sailing his beloved ship, the Crimson Flame, but doesn't quite know when to quit.

Tale of The Shadow - Sail North

Bones in the Ocean - The Longest Johns

Roll Northumbria - Colm R. McGuinness

The Curse - The Longest Johns

Not sure who to tag for this one, so I'm going to grab some of my newer followers mwahaha! @oliolioxenfrees-blog @emberlyric @kaylinalexanderbooks @ashwithapen @ryns-ramblings and @coffee-stainedwriting

(I will follow some of you guys back, I promise. I gotta go to work now tho aaaaaa)

[sendandburn]

List of AO3 Antis to Mute & Block/Follow and no these are not just the people who tagged No Incest Part 15

shessolovely

NotNyanSpaceKat7

hyperfixationbox

YourSwissOtaku

gh0stlypiano

DeVloer

enjolrasstaire

GoodCringeyWriter

Pythonic

andromourir

GryffindorGyrl1997

moth (oliolioxenfree)

Valkohai

starshipaurora

FracturesKill

Married2MyPhone

indigotigress7

speedreiding

BannanaBread

Boba_Milk

WhistlingWolf13

camilomybeloved

ExtremeCube

[girasoldemuerte]

Please...

I still wish we were close enough to touch. 

I long for that feeling.

Just give me 

one

more

kiss

please.

[teddybeas-blog]

to teddy, from olive. received: august 1, 2017.

She read it once, and then she read it again.  She read it forwards, and she read it backwards.  She read it with her fingers gripping the paper so tightly it almost ripped in half, nearly sending her bursting out into a fit of tears over just how careless she had almost been.

Olive… Olive, Olive, Olive.

Her Olive.  Her best friend.  Her girl.  She wasn’t supposed to die.  She wasn’t supposed to do this.  She… and she had the audacity to talk about it like it was a joke, to treat it like some great epic adventure in a way that only Olive Graff ever would.

When she’d first gotten to the mailbox and seen the two envelopes delicately placed side by side, she hadn’t thought much of it.  And then — and then — she’d seen the handwriting.

It didn’t matter how much time passed, because she would recognize that handwriting anywhere.  She would always recognize Olive’s scrawl over anyone else’s.  It was the handwriting that had been sent to her through countless class periods over the school years.  It was Olive, Olive, Olive talking to her.

After all this time, like a ghost creeping out of the shadows.

“This probably isn’t the first stuff you wanted to hear from me,” is what Olive had told her, and Olive was right.

But then again, what would Teddy want to hear from her instead?

She’d want her voice.  She’d want her here.  No amount of letters was going to bring her back.

She read through both letters until she knew her tears were smearing the seven-year-old ink and she had to place them down on the table before she soiled them any further.

She was okay.  She was okay!  She was totally and perfectly and completely okay.

No.  She wasn’t.

Everything was rushing back to her.  That night.  That night, that night, that night.  Sitting curled up on the bathroom floor with her stomach in knots, the way Olive had told her she was going to take Auggie home.  Sending Olive those stupid, stupid text messages that had caused everything afterwards.

Finding out a month later that the baby she’d been so worried about in the first place had been more than a worry after all, but not anymore.

Everything — everything, everything — was Teddy’s fault.

She’d lost Olive, she’d lost Auggie, she’d lost the baby, she’d lost so many pieces of herself that at this point, even after all these years, she was still scrambling to find them all.

And now, her past was staring her back in the face.  Mocking her mercilessly, bit by bit.

First the initial note that had been sent to her doorstep with a Return Date from Eliza Lange, Charleston, South Carolina.  And then that night with Auggie at the restaurant.  And… and now this.

Now this.

August 5.  They left August 5.

Everything that had been building up inside of her since before she’d opened her mailbox and maybe even before that was bubbling, coiling, charging and snarling angrily back at her, and she found herself rushing for the bathroom, emptying out all she had left in her before she was left crumpled on the bathroom floor.  

Teddy Graham finally let herself break down.

She didn’t know when she’d let herself get back up.

[talonedtiger]

This is Olivers Autumn Raffle!!
I want to start doing one like this for every season of the year.
How to enter!
You /must/ repost the cover image of this post to Twitter, DA, Tumblr or Instagram profile unless you are submitting on discord! Once you do this you will be assigned a letter so I can keep your entries organized easier
DTE: Draw this character! [3 Times max.]
You can draw them as a different species, hanging with some of your ocs or really anything sfw! Just note that entries submitted this way will be given to the winner as art for the character. 
NTE: Name them!! 
You can list up to 3 names, each will get you an entry!
Share to enter!
This one has unlimited uses but is a little bit complicated. 
You can send this post to someone along with your letter and dm me proof that you did this. I need to be able to see their username for this. If they join my raffle and give your letter to me, they get an extra entry and you get +2. For every person they invite and get to join you’ll get another one. This can be used infinitely.
{RULES}
-all entries of any sort must be submitted by 12 AM Oct. 31st CST
-You cannot win twice in a row, whoever wins autumn cannot win winter too.
-No private accounts
-No second accounts, if I find out you’re using more than one account to enter multiple times you will be immediately blacklisted from future raffles.
-Tag me in any image posted anywhere for this raffle! My insta is @oliolioxenfree, my twitter is @bee_supporter, my DA is TalonedTiger, same with my tumblr.
-Use the #OliAutumnRaffle20
-There will only be one winner! The prize is the character shown and any art that was created for the DTE
https://www.instagram.com/p/CFEcb3iFz6P/?igshid=815m5pi2sa9r

[oilbun]

my friend came up with a joke, I drew it. Hes also a sticker you can buy : https://www.redbubble.com/i/sticker/My-Alchemical-Romance-by-Oliolioxenfree/55525872.EJUG5 :)

(PLEASE DONT STEAL MY ART)

Varian stans come get y'all juice

[oliolioxenfreewrites]

The Shadows of Whitmore Estate: A Journey into Mystery and Legacy

I've been wanting to tease this one for a while and now that I'm finally starting to write it all out I thought: why not introduce the book? Keep reading to immerse yourself into Havenwood, Virginia.

🌳🏰✨

Welcome to Havenwood, Virginia, where the past lingers like fog over the landscape, and secrets whisper from the shadows. In the heart of this quaint town lies the Whitmore Estate, a grand colonial mansion wrapped in mystery and tales as old as the bricks that built its walls. This is the setting for our story, “The Shadows of Whitmore Estate,” a tale that weaves together the threads of family legacy, supernatural mysteries, and the search for identity.

Meet Marcus Whitmore:

Marcus, a tech entrepreneur far removed from the whispers of ancient legacies, finds himself inheriting the Whitmore Estate, a place that holds more questions than answers. His journey from skepticism to belief is a compelling dive into the heart of mystery, where the past is alive, and shadows hold the truth.

And His Son, Xavier

Xavier Whitmore, a young soul grappling with their non-binary identity amidst the backdrop of family secrets and an ancestral home that seems almost alive with unseen presences. Xavier’s story is one of courage, acceptance, and the universal quest to find one’s place in a world that often feels too vast and mysterious.

A Tale of Mystery and Discovery

“The Shadows of Whitmore Estate” isn’t just a story about ghosts and unexplained phenomena; it’s about the ghosts of the past that shape our futures, the unseen forces that guide our destinies, and the light we find in the darkness. Join Marcus and Xavier as they unravel the mysteries of the Whitmore legacy, confronting their fears and discovering the true power that lies within acceptance and unity.

As Marcus delves into the secrets of the estate, aided by the alluring librarian Farrah Martinez and his steadfast folklore obsessed friend, Ben Chandra, he encounters a history steeped in darkness and light. From hidden journals that speak of ancient pacts to the spectral appearance of ancestors who still roam the halls, Marcus’s quest is as much about understanding the past as it is about shaping the future.

A Story for the Brave

“The Shadows of Whitmore Estate” invites you on a journey that bridges the gap between the seen and unseen, the past and present. It’s a story for anyone who’s ever felt out of place, questioned their legacy, or sought to understand the mysteries that lie just beyond the reach of the light.

🏰 Explore the Echoes of Whitmore Estate 🏰

Dare to step onto the grounds of the Whitmore Estate, where history whispers from the shadows and mysteries are hidden in plain sight. The Shadows of Whitmore Estate invites you into a story where the legacy of a family intertwines with the supernatural, setting the stage for an exploration of the unknown.

Within the walls of this grand estate, lies, truths, and legends blend together, crafting a tapestry of intrigue that beckons to be unraveled. As our protagonist delves into the estate’s enigmatic past, they find themselves facing more than just the ghosts of history. The journey is fraught with challenges that test the very essence of their being, revealing that some shadows hold deeper darknesses than others.

This narrative is a call to those enchanted by the dance of the ethereal with the eternal, where every discovery shifts the boundary between reality and beyond. If your heart races at the thought of uncovering hidden truths and your soul yearns for tales that weave through the corridors of time, then welcome to the enigma of Whitmore Estate.

Stay tuned as I peel back the layers of mystery, offer whispers of the past, and maybe, just maybe, give you a glimpse into the legacy that shadows these halls. The door is open; let’s uncover what lies beyond together. 🕯️🔑

Join me as I step through the creaking doors of the Whitmore Estate. Who knows what secrets we’ll uncover together?

Are you ready to explore the shadows? 🕯️🔍✨

[olis-inkwell-symposium]

Manifestations I: Fear

Aricela Michaels stood in the middle of her dimly lit apartment, her hands trembling as she stared at the small, black envelope on the kitchen counter. The envelope was innocuous enough, its surface glossy and unmarked, but Aricela knew better. She had received three of them in the past week, each one containing a single sheet of paper with a message scrawled in red ink.

She could feel the familiar tightness in her chest, a suffocating pressure that made it hard to breathe. It wasn’t just the messages that unnerved her—it was the feeling that had started creeping into her life, a sensation that something was always just out of sight, lurking in the corners of her vision.

Her fingers twitched as she reached for the envelope, her thoughts spiraling. This is ridiculous, Ari. It’s just paper. Just another stupid prank. But even as she tried to convince herself, the words sounded hollow. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that someone—or something—was watching her.

The apartment was eerily silent. Normally, the hum of traffic from the streets below or the muffled voices of her neighbors provided some semblance of normalcy, but tonight there was nothing. Just the oppressive quiet and the darkness that seemed to press in on her from all sides.

She snatched the envelope off the counter, her movements jerky and uncoordinated. Her heart pounded in her ears as she ripped it open, the paper inside crinkling under her trembling fingers. The message was brief, just like the others: You can’t hide from it.

A cold shiver ran down her spine. She dropped the paper as if it had burned her, the blood draining from her face. She backed away from the counter, her mind racing. It’s just a coincidence. It has to be. Someone’s messing with you, trying to scare you. That’s all it is.

But the rational part of her mind was losing the battle. There was something wrong, something deeply wrong, and she could feel it growing stronger with each passing day. The shadows in her apartment seemed to lengthen, darkening the corners of the room. Her eyes flicked to the window, the curtains drawn tightly shut, but she could feel it—whatever it was—out there, waiting.

Run, her mind screamed, but her feet felt like they were rooted to the floor. The apartment suddenly felt too small, too confining, like the walls were closing in on her. Panic clawed at her throat, her breaths coming in shallow gasps. She turned, ready to flee, but froze at the sight of her own reflection in the hallway mirror.

Except it wasn’t just her reflection. There, standing just behind her, was a figure—tall, shadowy, its face obscured by darkness. Its hand reached out toward her, and Aricela’s heart nearly stopped.

A scream tore from her throat, but it died in the silence, swallowed by the oppressive weight of the darkness that surrounded her. The figure loomed closer, its presence suffocating, and Aricela finally broke free from her paralysis, spinning around to face it.

But there was nothing. Just the empty hallway, the flickering light overhead, and the echo of her own terrified breathing.

She was alone—or was she?

Aricela stumbled back, her mind reeling. She couldn’t stay here, not in this apartment, not with whatever was out there, waiting for her. She grabbed her coat, her hands shaking so badly she could barely zip it up, and bolted for the door. She didn’t know where she was going, only that she needed to run, to get away before the darkness swallowed her whole.

But even as she fled into the night, the words from the note echoed in her mind, a chilling reminder that there was no escape: You can’t hide from it.

And deep down, Aricela knew—it was right.

In the dim corners of existence, where light barely reaches and shadows stretch long and deep, there lies a presence. It’s not something you can fully see—not with your eyes, anyway. It moves like smoke, curling around the edges of your thoughts, whispering in a voice only you can hear. It knows your secrets, the ones buried so deep even you’ve forgotten them. It thrives in those quiet moments, just before sleep, or in the echo of footsteps that aren’t quite your own.

This is Fear.

But Fear is only one of the many forces that lurk in the shadows of our minds. In the world of Manifestations, emotions are more than just fleeting feelings—they’re entities, forces of nature that, once unleashed, can reshape reality itself. Fear may be the first to step into the light, but it certainly won’t be the last. Each emotion you’ll encounter in this anthology has the power to bend, twist, and even break the world as we know it.

Imagine standing alone in a darkened room, where the air is thick with the scent of decay, and the walls seem to close in around you. In that suffocating darkness, you hear it—a soft, deliberate breath that isn’t your own. You can’t see it, but you know it’s there, watching, waiting. Your skin prickles, your heart races, and in that moment, you are utterly and completely at its mercy.

This is Fear incarnate—a being of darkness and dread, born from the deepest, most primal parts of the human soul. It slips from the shadows, taking form as a figure cloaked in darkness, with eyes that glow like distant, cold stars. As it steps into the light, its shape solidifies: long, bony fingers ending in sharp, gleaming claws; a face hidden beneath a hood, with the faintest hint of a skeletal grin; and in its hand, a single finger raised to its lips, demanding silence.

Fear isn’t just an emotion—it’s a living, breathing entity, one that feeds on the terror it inspires. But just as Fear takes on this terrifying form, so too can other emotions: the blinding, suffocating warmth of Happiness; the gnawing, creeping presence of Envy; or the relentless, insidious whisper of Guilt.

In Manifestations, emotions are not simply internal struggles—they are forces that can step into the real world and alter it in profound ways. Fear may be the first you encounter, but as you journey deeper into this anthology, you’ll come face to face with many such entities, each as real and powerful as the last.

So, reader, are you ready to confront the emotions that dwell in the darkest corners of the mind? To face not just Fear, but the myriad other forces that have the power to shape your reality? If so, take a deep breath, steel your nerves, and turn the page. The journey ahead will not be easy, but it will be worth it.

Emotions are waiting for you. Will you let them consume you, or will you rise above them?

[teddybeas-blog]

INSTAGRAM | teddybea just shared a post

from the diary of teddy graham, an excerpt:

“august 10, 2005 - EIGHTH GRADE STARTS IN ONE WEEK HOLY FRAPPUCCINO!!!  we went to the mall today and YOU KNOW WHO was at aeropostale and i probably looked really stupid but then syd’s mom picked us up so WHATEVER.  p.s. olive told me i need a better code name than YOU KNOW WHO because it sounds like i’m talking about voldemort LOL.  voldemort wishessssss xP”  #tbt.  #oliolioxenfree.

51 LIKES

elizathornberry: look at her. thayerone: OK BUT UR ENTIRE LOOK, THEODORE.

VIEW ALL 6 COMMENTS

[olivergoldsworthy]

@oliolioxenfree: Happy Halloween! #SoSpooky Oh and happy birthday @littletorres :) #IDidntForget

[oliolioxenfreewrites]

50 posts!

[oliolioxenfreewrites]

It's nothing personal, just vibrational…

[oliolioxenfreewrites]

I wanted to share a story with you all about my creative journey thus far. 8 months in, and I have to say I never quite expected to even be sharing my writing let alone receiving kind words, encouragement, and interest from you all so here is a—I will call it a love letter to you all on tumblr who've followed and help nurture the writer I soon hope to establish!

OliOliOxenFree: My Journey

The beginning of this year, sheesh, it feels like forever ago at this point, felt like standing at the edge of a vast, uncharted territory, with only my words as a guide. I had a vision, a dream that was both thrilling and terrifying. It was a journey into the unknown, where I would carve out a space in the digital world for my stories, my voice, and my truth. I poured myself into OliOliOxenFree, not just creating content, but breathing life into a world where imagination and reality blur, where every story holds a piece of my soul.

As I embarked on this path, it quickly became clear that it would be a solitary one. The friends I had once relied on for support began to fade away, their silence louder than words. It wasn’t that I lost them entirely, but their absence in my creative life was palpable. The people I thought would stand by me, cheer me on, seemed to drift into the background, and I was left to face the echoes of their encouragements that had now gone quiet. Family, too, remained distant—whether out of a lack of understanding or a simple disinterest in my creative pursuits, I’ll never know. The realization that my passion for writing was something I had to fight for alone hit hard. The road was lonelier than I had anticipated, and I often found myself questioning whether this path was truly meant for me.

By the time June rolled around, that loneliness had seeped into every corner of my work, casting shadows over the stories I once felt so passionately about. I hit a wall—a severe crisis of confidence that shook me to my core. I began to doubt my abilities, to question whether I could really do this. The voices of support I had relied on were gone, and in their place was a void that seemed to echo my own fears back at me. It was a dark time, and for a moment, I considered giving up. But then I realized something powerful: if nobody else was going to fight for my art, I had to. This epiphany became the turning point in my journey. I understood that the only person who could truly champion my work was me. And so, I picked myself up, dusted off the doubts, and threw myself into my writing with renewed determination.

I didn’t just bounce back—I came back stronger. I now have four debut books in the works, each one a testament to the resilience I’ve found within myself. I’ve been constantly uploading short stories and flash fiction to Tumblr, the platform where I’ve received the most love and support. Despite having fewer than 200 followers on Tumblr, these individuals have become the backbone of OliOliOxenFree. Every like, every reblog, every message of encouragement has reminded me why I started this journey in the first place. Instagram might feel like a place where my work goes unnoticed, and Twitter is a mixed bag depending on the day, but Tumblr has been my sanctuary—a place where my stories can live and breathe, embraced by a community that truly gets what I’m trying to do.

At one point, I deleted my blog out of frustration, not knowing how to navigate the space or how to bring people back consistently. But as I continued to grow and evolve, I came to a realization: it’s not about the numbers. It’s not about how many people visit my website or how many followers I have. It’s about having a hub where my work can exist, where it can be read by whoever stumbles upon it, whether that’s tomorrow or five years from now.

I needed a space where my stories could live on, independent of the constant need for validation. With this newfound clarity, I’m launching OliOliOxenfree, a new creative writing blog that will serve as the home for all my work. This is where my stories will be told, where my voice will be heard, and where the community that has supported me can continue to grow. I'll be posting there more often than not. my Substack will still stand as a proprietor of creative, writing insight, deep dives, and my newfound exploration into the occult. I’m not really good at consistently posting because of work and daily life, but I am getting better trying to at least and I hope that you all see my vision in my heart and want to support it! I have 180 of you all here and even just half of you taking the time to engage and support with my platforms would mean the world to me.

I want to eventually be able to branch out and collaborate with other writers on short story books and other things that we could publish and share with the vast digital landscape! I have big plans for not only myself but the community that want to support me! I’ll be making a separate post for the anthology series that includes other writers. I think I finally got it to a place where you all can take inspiration and go from there!

OliOliOxenFree isn’t just a username to me anymore—it’s a symbol of my passion, my purpose, and my path forward. It’s been a challenging journey, often lonely, but it’s also been transformative. With each new follower, each story shared, I’m reminded that this is what I’m meant to do. Together, we’re building something truly special, something that will continue to evolve and thrive, no matter how many twists and turns the road ahead may hold!

Tag List 🫶🏾

@drchenquill @illarian-rambling @kaylinalexanderbooks @leahpardo-pa-potato @slenders1ckn3ss

@somethingclevermahogony @inky-duchess @sassystyl @rotting-moon-writes @highlycosmic

@avaseofpeonies @oc-atelier @ceph-the-ghost-writer @paeliae-occasionally @davycoquette

@unforgettable-sensations @hissorrow22 @boredwritergirl @scorpiothesaint @thewrathoffemalerage

@rirori-jeorgiarn @spookyceph @enne-uni @the-golden-comet

if anyone is interested in joining or being removed from the list, just let me know in the replies or ask! :)

[teddybeas-blog]

#1031

OLI OLI OXENFREE!

hey, it’s me.  naturally.

i don’t know why i always introduce myself as if someone else has gotten a hold of this journal and decided to start writing to you - but i guess anything is possible, and it’s not like i’d really blame them for wanting to talk to you.  i know i always want to.

we’re in new orleans, because you told us to come here, and it’s a beautiful city.  we haven’t gone to coyote ugly YET, but don’t worry.  we’re going just for you.  i’m not going to pull a piper perabo and start dancing on the bar, though, but i’m sure lu (or maybe even wilco) will be up for the task.

...

i miss you so much it hurts to breathe.  it knocks everything out of me.  i hate it.  i hate being on this trip without you.  i hate that i can’t call you or text you or look for you and find you.  i hate it so much.

...

i don’t even know what i’m writing this for.  i just miss you.  i just wanted you to know we’re here.

i just wanted to tell you i love you, i guess.  you knew that, i’m sure.  but now you get to know it again.  lucky you ♥️

teddy