#olliverse

[ollyollyaxe]

oh hey its adam, you know my good friend adam, yeah he's doomed by the narrative but its fine he's cool

[theflirtmeister]

your tags on my art truly feed my soul thank you bestie <3 <3 & your appreciation for my special boy is everything to me -also you should absolutely make a saw oc- i would totally write them into the olliverse!! (-ollyollyaxe)

ur welcome bestie!!! i love your art SO MUCH, it always hits my kinks exactly how i like them XD love the olliverse and the struggles it will cause hoffman

[atypicalacademic]

Ghare Bhaire

Words: 700

Skylar x Haider for @ollifree, from these hand-holding prompts: "only linking the pinkies together, not ready to let go completely" + "brushing against each other, linking fingers together for a second"

No warnings only somft.

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Ghare-Bhaire (Bangla): home and the world

*

“Do you really have to go?” Haider’s voice was still rough with sleep, his mahogany eyes barely open as he tipped a spoonful of spice into Skylar’s cup of chai, before sliding it across the counter with a sigh. Dawn was barely breaking, the light a delicate, lotus-petal pink where it played off the flowers and vines clinging to Haider’s hand-painted walls. The beaded curtains parted at Skylar’s reluctant assent as he shuffled in, Salsa at his heel, dragging his satchel in one hand while he snaked the other around Haider’s waist.

“I can’t miss another ship.” Skylar reminded him, ducking a little so his horns wouldn’t graze the kitchen cabinets packed to the edge with tinctures and herbs, sugars and spices. Warming his hands over the steaming cup of chai, he leaned down to press a kiss to Haider’s forehead. “And you,” He poked the tip of his nose, “Should be getting some rest.”

“And let you go hungry?”

“I can feed myself.”

Haider laughed, catching one of Skylar’s curls between his henna-painted fingers. “Not like I can.” He silenced Skylar’s protest with a lazy kiss to his lips. “It’s true. You know it.”

Skylar pulled him closer, breathing in the incense-and-bauhinia scent that always clung to Haider’s hair, free from its usual confines and falling in soft dark waves past his shoulders. “Alright, I know it.”

Haider smiled against Skylar’s chest. “What happened to leaving at first light?”

Skylar pressed another kiss to his hair. “It’s still first light.”

Forcing himself out of Skylar’s hold, Haider placed the cup of chai back into his hands. “Drink up. It’s bad luck to leave something unfinished.”

“Huh.”

“Umma said so, all the time.” Haider murmured, busying himself with Skylar’s scarves, wrapping the bright red fabric snug around his magician to keep him from the chill. Salsa nuzzled at Haider’s knee, craning her neck for his attention. He petted her between the ears, not taking his eyes away from Skylar, leaning briefly into a lingering touch at his cheek.

Soon enough, too soon, Skylar would take to the road again, take with him the warmth that had shielded him from the winter’s chill for the months he spent at home with him. As much as Haider never begrudged him that, his wandering and his quiet, fervent curiosity, his heart still sank at the thought of sleeping alone, without Skylar’s soft frame pressed against his, his dark curls between his fingers, his eyes on him, deep and lovely, like twin forest pools in the dim light.

Fortunate, then, that it lives so long, that slow-burning flame in his chest, both his love and his patience, until Skylar returns, as he always does.

“I miss you already.” Skylar said softly.

“Miss my cooking, you mean.”

“Your everything. And more.”

Haider blushed, looking away.

“Sure I can’t ask you to come along?” Skylar perched his elbow on the counter.

Batting Skylar’s chest playfully with his scarf, Haider shook his head. “But then you’ll return to an empty house. We can’t have that.”

“’S that what you’re here for, Haidi?” Skylar set his cup aside to take Haider’s face in his hands. “To bring me home?”

“Among other things.” Haider kissed him again, and rested against the crook of his neck. If he let his eyes flutter shut, he could fall asleep right there. “I’m here to be here.” He said, half-to himself, his beard brushing against Skylar’s neck as he trailed kisses up to his jaw. “I’ll always be here.”

A brighter beam of sunlight startled them apart, and Skylar caught his breath, looking over his shoulder. “Fuck, now I need to run.”

Laughing, Haider followed after him to the door, handing him his satchel with a hurried goodbye kiss. Skylar caught his wrist to kiss his knuckles, green eyes finding Haider’s mahogany ones.

Damn those eyes. Bless those eyes.

“What do you want, hm?” Their hands brushed as they drew away, Skylar pausing to trace the henna-flowers painted onto Haider’s bronze skin. “What do you want, from over the sea?”

As if he needed to ask.

“You, silly.” Haider twined his pinkie around Skylar’s, linking their hands in the narrow space between the door and it’s frame. “Just you.”

[atypicalacademic]

Im a puddle of affection and amazement at how beautifully you wrote Esther 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 Everything from their scheming to the way they care about the people they...care about, them just Immediately going, yeah, murder 😌. The aftermath of their trauma and memories, and how they hate being restrained hhhhhh....I couldn't have written them better myself.

Descriptions of Olli's magic and sheer determination?? Chefs Kiss!!!! Saying you'll do something and following through sincerely like that is, indeed, the Best way to Esther's heart, since so few people in their life has actually bothered to afford them that courtesy 🥺

Pre-readmore Esther had their life Entirely Altered by one (1) brave, kind, incredible bookworm and really they would Not have it any other way. Past history or no, Esther would Constantly be a champion for her happiness, always 🥺

Esther

Fic for “A Mage Reborn” by @mage-parivir. Featuring @atypicalacademic’s mage Esther Selencal, whom I love.

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“…The Black Grail often works with the Archangel to ensure an equal trade of information. Have you met any of them?”

“Not to my knowledge.”

Esther prided themself in knowing people inside and out. Oftentimes better than the people in question did. However, there had been too many new people—places to map in their head, faces to names and names to faces, knowledge of a culture long thought lost—to do more than go, “Ah, yes, we’ve met.”

They’d been wrong, hadn’t they? Knowing people. Esther had known the king. Trusted him. Thought he trusted them.

chains at their wrists cutting the flow of magic binding binding

Not again. Never again.

Tahlia approached an open door and nearly collided with a stack of books.

Keep reading

[ollyollyaxe]

actually, fuck this *re-dooms your narrative*

[ollyollyaxe]

can't stop thinking about Adam, sitting in that bathroom, waiting for Lawrence to show up like a loyal fucking dog, only to die in vain and never get a chance to see him again.

like,, thats fucked up. and imma make it More fucked up by saying, i don't think he'd be able to move on, even in the next life, he'd still be waiting waiting waiting for the good doctor to show up and save him

so i wrote a fic about it ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

part one of my 'adam comes back to life wrong' fic now on Ao3 !! still finishing the porn But please take this 🖤

https://archiveofourown.org/works/51781102

[ollyollyaxe]

absolutely consumed by thoughts of 'totally dead but somehow back as a ghost' Adam and Lawrence, the angst the heartbreak the torment the metaphor of it all UGH ok brb

[ollyollyaxe]

now that you've all seen my specialest boy, have some olli/hoff content, as a treat 🖤

♥️full pic + fic excerpt under the cut ♠️

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Oliver never understood why Hoffman became a cop in the first place. Not that he didn't fit the bill as a mean brute, but because of his hatred for authority figures. The youngest apprentice knew all too well how Hoffman felt about people in positions of power.

A sneer twitched its way onto his face at the thought, it was one of Oliver's favorite hypocrisies about the man.

Hoffman would never ever admit this, probably not even to himself, but he wanted to be owned.

Being John's apprentice maybe started out as blackmail, but he grew to like it frighteningly fast, why else would he so willingly carry on the Jigsaw legacy after John's death?

Oliver didn't need to ask Mark directly to know this, he had seen it. He'd witnessed the irrefutable truth that Hoffman was happiest when taking orders, and that he also fucking hated it.

Oliver couldn't stop the shiver running down his spine as he thought about all the times he'd seen his theory proven. Mark doing whatever John would say while building traps, so trusting and almost docile under the watch of the older man. The way he would feign annoyance as Amanda guided his sweating hand when doing mechanical maintenance, or bite his lip to hold back moans when Lawrence roughly treated his various injuries. Mark whimpering into Oliver's palm as he tied him into the ice cube trap.

The man was completely different when dominated, everything about his body gave him away. From the sloping shoulders to his dilated eyes, it was obvious that he craved the submission, but something in his brain just wouldn't let him give in.

So he fought it, mindlessly and relentlessly, trying to force himself into a dominant persona. Clawing his way to the top of his precinct, taking on the Jigsaw moniker, controlling every aspect of how the world saw both sides of his persona.

But neither of them was really true.

Mark Hoffman was a tool. Not just in the colloquial sense, which he absolutely could be sometimes, but the literal meaning. At his best when carrying out the orders of the one who wielded him.

Like a feral dog, Hoffman craved to be domesticated, taken care of, and controlled; yet he still fought mindlessly to hold onto those wild instincts.

Oliver wanted nothing more than to beat it out of him in the most literal way possible.

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thanks for reading <3 i'm gonna start posting my saw au (aka the 'olliverse) very soon so if you enjoy seeing mark hoffman getting dominated by twinks u should check it out !

[atypicalacademic]

Im gonna cry???? I CRI????? How ??? This is so beautiful?? They're the Best Friends Ever who are fundamentally different and yet understand each other SO well? The way Mahim and intuitively figured out what she needed and offered it to her, as he offers everything, any time? 🥺 The way they can get through to each other, even when noone else can? And the way they don't even need to Say things to each other in words, but they're so used to each other that they understand anyway? Im love this friendship with all my heart 😭

Mahim Never admits to needing reassurance on his abilities and Olli just. Giving it to him regardless 🥺, and the fact that their convictions work so well together. I can just read it and see the kind of Alpha they'd Both be in their respective verses. Different from each other and yet formidable.

Also "Moon is loud. Doesn't mean I owe it shit." That's it you have him down to the Essentials. 🥺

Mahim

Another fic for Blood Moon by @barbwritesstuff, featuring the alpha verse for @atypicalacademic‘s Mahim whom I love with my whole-ass self 💖

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SHIT!!!

It was a howl and scream both that had the entire pack on their feet at once. Mahim flew through the den and found Marco and Vicky about to fling open the bathroom door.

“I’m fine don’t come in!”

Marco flinched back from the shout. Vicky tightened her grip on the door handle. “Olli.”

“I said, I’m fine!”

finefinefinefinefine

Keep reading

[atypicalacademic]

OLLI !!!!!!!!

“Don’t let the moon or the wolf inside control you.”

You all know the drill. Blood Moon is the best game ever and it’s written by @barbwritesstuff Mahim is the best werewolf ever and he’s written by @atypicalacademic

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Mahim fell back a step, hackles raised. He remained bipedal. Just. The drum of the moon had yet to pierce the cacophony of the pack. Judging from their howls they were finishing the vampires at the den. Which left him and the vampire. Blackwell. Whom Mahim was sure still had a couple aces up his sleeve.

Blackwell cracked his neck. His suit—that damn suit—torn in several places and losing stitching in some. Mahim blinked, and he watched the vampire from a different angle. Low to the ground, creeping behind Blackwell’s profile.

One of the pack—Farro? Jay? Their coat kept them hidden in the white dark of the bridal shop, and they moved so silently around broken glass mannequins neither vampire nor werewolf heard them. A hunter. Olli.

Don’t.

Keep reading

[atypicalacademic]

where my hounds at? release the bitches (woof)

mc for @barbwritesstuff blood moon. wolf maker [here]

RO: Marco

Besties: Vicky, Carrie, Sergie, Mahim (@atypicalacademic)

Conviction: Protect the Pack

Joins the challenge for Alpha and votes for Sergie out of spite. Then proceeds to kick his ass. “How’d you lose your arm?” / “Alpha took it in the challenge.” / “Shoulda sat your ass back down is what you shoulda done.”

In the verse where Mahim’s Alpha after the vote she holds up a sign that says “See the Night King”. I understand that werewolves have super healing but consider: vampire fights and scars sexy.