#olliewrites

[ollieblogs-stuff]

Medusa and Lilith: a series of letters through time

Dearest Lilith,

I stumbled across

Your story today.

A passing merchant

Fancied himself a hero

In a moment of idiocy.

I have given up on trying to

Warn them.

I am

What they love to hate;

Something tells me

We have this in common

- Medusa.

~~~

Darling Medusa,

Though you have heard of me,

I must confess

Your name is new to my ears.

I must disagree with your

Expressed sentiments.

We are not what they love to hate;

We are as they made us.

They turned us into these things.

If they then choose to hate what

They created,

Well, that is

Their load to bear.

(I hope I have not offended you

By insinuating you are a 'thing,'

My friend)

- Lilith

~~~

Lovely Lilith,

My, what a welcome surprise to

Receive your reply!

Do not fret about

The language use.

I may have once flinched

At being called a 'thing,'

But that time has long since passed.

I do not get the privilege of

Feeling like a human being

Anymore.

I feel the weight of the word

'Monster'

Resting on my shoulders

From the moment I wake up

To the moment I fall asleep.

I am still human in my dreams.

Some days, it feels like

That is all my humanity ever was -

A dream.

When I think back

To my life before THAT day,

I loathe the way in which

I took my existence for granted.

Oh how different the world

Looks when your life is worth nothing;

When your death is prophesied

And celebrated.

I'll be worth more in death

Than in life.

- Medusa

~~~

My friend,

How my heart aches for you.

I can make my own assumptions

And conclusions about your past

And current situation from your

Previous communication,

But I know that I

Do not have the full picture.

So please excuse me,

My friend,

As I do what more people should

In a position like mine

And not say anything at all.

Just know that

I wish the best for you,

And I do not believe you

To be a monster.

Not in your heart,

And that's where it counts.

People choose to see

What they want to see.

It seems,

For both of us,

People choose to see a villain.

Evidently,

In their eyes,

There is nothing more villainous

Than an empowered woman.

- Lilith

~~~

Adored friend,

I thank you for your sentiments.

If I did not know that

Centuries and oceans

Keep us forever apart,

I may have accused you

Of reading my thoughts.

Whilst being a villain

Is not something people aspire to,

I find it more preferable to

'Hero'

With each passing day.

I am going to die,

Lilith.

I am going to be murdered.

A 'hero' who is no more than a boy

Will be the one to slay this beast.

I am to be no more

Than a milestone

In this child's path

To heroism.

I would wonder where the dignity

In this is,

But as a villain

I am permitted none.

I do not wish this

Child's legacy

To be the only reason

I am remembered.

- Medusa

~~~

Medusa, my dear friend,

We are the legacy we leave behind.

If they will not remember us as

Heroes and humans,

Let them remember us as

Monsters and villains.

If we cannot outrun

Our fate,

Let us embrace it.

Let us be

The most monstrous.

The most villainous.

Let visions of us

Plague their dreams

And moisten their palms.

Let our names be whispered

Like a prayer or profanity.

Let us make it impossible

For them to forget that

They made us this way.

Let us give them a

A damned good reason

To remember our names.

- Lilith

© O.M.A

[olliewrites-stuff]

In Which You Play Orpheus

In which you play Orpheus,

And you are broken-hearted and desolate.

The loss of your Eurydice for the

Second and final time

Carves your soul into

Mourning lyrics in a language

Only the bereft can decipher.

In which you stand there, frozen,

Mourning the first and only time

Turning towards your lover

Has ended in heart-break.

In which you play Orpheus,

But this time,

The Gods decide to make you

Suffer

Instead of ending you.

In which you are Orpheus and

You have just lost your Eurydice,

But also,

In which you have been granted

Immortality

Until reaching an age the Gods decide

Your existence on this plane

Without HER

Can cease.

In which you are newly-immortal,

And your immortality is certain -

And you refuse to disclose just how

You know it to be fact.

In which those pages of your book -

With the screaming and the

Crying and the

Desperate clutching,

Are stuck together never to be read aloud,

And that's how you prefer it to be.

In which you are Orpheus,

And you can't escape Her.

She whispers through the trees.

She cries desperately for you

In the thunderstorms.

The cheeky quirk of Her lip is

Reflected on other people’s faces …

And it HURTS.

By Gods,

It HURTS.

The absence in your life

And soul so profound that you

Cannot breathe.

In which you attend the group sessions,

Just like your friends suggested,

But the way in which the facilitator

Says Her name makes you

Clench your fists and

Refuse to make eye-contact with

Anyone.

This suffering is overwhelming,

But sharing it would be like

Sharing what little of Her

You have left, and -

You're not strong enough to let that go.

In which you lose control one day,

Throwing a chair across the room

When the soft-spoken woman

To your right,

Who is wearing her hair like She used to,

Speaks your name in Her timbre.

In which you become a cyclone,

A Category 5 descending on the home

You used to share,

Snatching up all of Her things and

Hurling them into a space

Never to be seen again.

Everything seems to pause as you

Come across a picture of

The two of you.

Everything gets deceivingly quiet

As the eye of Cyclone Orpheus

Overtakes you.

Your eyes dart from smiling eyes to

Lovestruck smile,

And all of a sudden,

The storm is back in action.

Smashing,

Crashing,

Banging,

Screaming,

Crying -

Your rage is

s u f f o c a t i n g

and

t e r r i f y i n g,

But FUCK

Does it feel good to cause damage,

Even though the chaos you can create

Is no match for the damage

She caused YOU, and -

...You've ripped the picture in half

And are suddenly human again,

Kneeling in the centre of your carnage

As you realise what you’ve done.

In which you quietly and reverently

Pack up the rest of Her belongings,

Vowing to actually attempt

Living

The rest of your life.

For Her if no-one else.

In which time passes and

You lose track of it;

Surviving one day becomes

Surviving two,

Then three,

And soon,

Years,

Decades - maybe even centuries -

Pass,

And it’s only after you catch yourself

Smiling as you think of the sweet

Grecian girl with the dazzling smile

You’ve bumped into a few times,

That you realise you’re not

Occupied with thoughts of

Your Eurydice.

In which you graze your shoulder as you

Scramble to where you’d left all of Her stuff

To collect dust.

Light floods the space as you scurry to

Surround yourself in Her presence again,

To prove you haven’t stopped

Thinking about Her,

That you haven’t given up on Her,

That you haven’t

f o r g o t t e n

Her.

"See? See!

I’ve still got that scarf you wore every year,

And that photo album from that one time...

And see, see?

Look at all the SHIT I have that

Proves I can’t live without you!"

You stop.

Breathe in and out deeply…

In which you play Orpheus,

And have lost your Eurydice.

In which you realise that between

Forcing yourself to be busy

So you didn’t have time to grieve,

And doing your best to live

As She would have wanted,

You had found a way to grieve.

To move on.

To live without her.

In which you no longer grieve,

But can still hear Her

Softly whispering through the trees.

You can hear Her in the thunderstorms.

You can see the cheeky quirk of Her lip

In people you’ve since befriended.

And you are okay.

The reminders bring back

Fond memories, now,

Reminding you of the time you DID

Get to spend with Her,

And the happiness you felt then

That you can recognise again now.

In which you play an immortal Orpheus who

Has lost his Eurydice,

And you realise She is gone,

But not forgotten.

© O.M.A

[ectoman]

BLOOD ON THE RISE (it's following me).

Chapter I -> BLOOD ON THE STREETS

[ollieblogs-stuff]

C'est la vie

“And if they can’t deal with that, then they can just c'est la vie,” Alanys drawled with far too much confidence. 

“That’s not...You’re definitely not using that right,” noted Klelia. 

The brunette huffed. “Life is too short to worry about silly things like semantics, Klelia. We must live in the moment! We must do as the French say, and c’est la vie!” 

“I - Oh whatever,” groaned Klelia. She turned her attention to her iced coffee, using the straw to stir the remainder of the caramel into the mix. Alanys took a sip of her own beverage - a hazelnut latte with an alarming amount of sugar. Klelia noticed her friend’s hesitant, interested glances towards her person and rolled her eyes. She’d been friends with Alanys for long enough to know that she couldn’t hold in whatever she was going to say for much longer. 

“You look... different. Hair cut?" Alanys asked cautiously. Her small legs swung above the floor. Such was the sacrifice she made whenever dining out in public with Klelia - a half-Goliath. 

"I lost an arm,” Klelia replied bluntly. 

Her friend released a sigh of relief, "I know. The hair cut thing was a farce. I just didn't want to be rude…” Her eyes met Klelia again, curiosity officially piqued,”But since you brought it up, what the hell happened to you?"

Klelia took a long sip from her straw. She could be direct with Alanys. After swallowing her sip of coffee, she opened her mouth and muttered, “Gelatinous cube.” 

Alanys’ responding shriek pulled the attention of every patron in the small cafe. Klelia felt her neck and face flush as she waved off their concerned glances with a grimace. 

“A GELATINOUS CUBE? YOU LOST YOUR ARM TO A GELATINOUS CUBE?” was Alanys’ completely unnecessary bellow. Klelia slid down into her seat to avoid the new stares. As much as she loved her best friend, her public theatrics regularly made her want to stab herself in the eye. She’d told Alanys this, once, and the other girl had the nerve to call Klelia a drama queen! Pot, kettle! 

“If you’re done announcing my most recent trauma to everyone in the city…” muttered Klelia darkly, just loud enough for Alanys to hear her. 

The brunette simply waved her hand in Klelia’s direction. A rudimentary gesture indicating Alanys’ belief that Klelia needed to ‘shush’ and ‘get over herself.’ 

Again: pot, kettle. 

“You’ve been super casual about it until our conversation. It’s very obvious that you lost your arm, Klel, so your casual manner tells me it’s becoming less of a recent prevalent trauma,” Alanys commented, blessedly quiet this time. 

Before Klelia could grudgingly agree with her boisterous friend’s astute observation, her voice rose again, 

“Besides, if anyone has a problem with it, I’ll fight them. I’ll stab them right in the kneecaps, and then the heart. I’ll watch them bleed out with a wide smile on my face.” 

Alanys had always been gifted with the way in which she could threaten incredibly violent things with a smile on her face. Only people who made the mistake of daring to cross the vicious halfling found out just how true those threats were, beyond the cheery tone. 

When Alanys finally cracked it - and that was a ‘when’, not an ‘if’ - she would murder some deserving cretin and smear their blood all over their living room walls while singing along loudly to the Top 20 pop hits. Klelia had always respected that about Alanys. 

Deciding now was a moment that didn’t need a verbal response, Klelia merely smiled at her halfling friend. Her smile held all her appreciation and love. Alanys smiled back; a peaceful expression that gave no hint towards the gruesome threat uttered moments ago. 

“So… this happened during your last campaign?” Alanys queried. Klelia could tell her friend was restraining from unleashing a verbal onslaught of questions. 

“Yes,” she confirmed. “It was our final quest. It was just a simple dungeon, really. Compared to the other quests we’d completed, this was nothing. Our sorcerer, though, he’s a tiny, young thing. He got himself in the way of the cube while trying to defend our druid. I had to push him out of the way, and my arm got stuck in the cube instead… I managed to prevent the cube from absorbing any more of me, but it consumed all of the living flesh on my right arm, so… I mean, I wasn’t going to walk around with a useless skeletal right arm. When the quest and campaign ended, I booked myself into a rehabilitation program with some healers and, yeah. Goodbye right arm.” 

Klelia gestured to her missing limb with her left arm. Alanys looked at the space where the arm should have been for a few frozen moments. 

When she finally spoke, her words were unexpected, “Thank fuck you’re a leftie.” 

The statement, and the serious tone in which it was delivered, procured a surprised laugh from Klelia. “Uh, yeah I guess you’re right. Thank fuck I’m a leftie,” she laughed.

Alanys twisted in her seat like she was trying to view the empty space from various angles. Klelia waited patiently for the question on the tip of her friend’s tongue burst free. 

“Can I see it?” the halfling asked. 

That… was a question Klelia hadn’t predicted. Trust Alanys to keep her on her toes. 

“The… the arm, or the wound?” she questioned carefully. 

“Either. Both. I just - I need to see!” Alanys replied. 

Laughing gently at her friend’s eagerness, Klelia leaned in. 

“Well, I don’t exactly carry my dead arm around with me, but it is preserved in a case at my place.” 

Holding back a smile at her friend’s disappointed pout, Klelia continued, “As for the wound… you’re lucky I’m wearing a vest today under my cloak.” 

Klelia unclipped the fastener for her cloak from around her neck. Alanys rubbed her hands together with glee. Weirdo. As Klelia carefully folded her cloak and laid it over the worn rucksack at her feet, Alanys moved closer. 

The halfling jumped down from the chair, pulled over a nearby stool, and clambered up the towering legs with the grace of an acrobat. Alanys pulled her legs onto the seat of the chair, so she could kneel towards Klelia’s right shoulder. Her small, eager hands reached out slowly, and her face monitored Klelia for signs of discomfort. She froze her reach upon noticing the half-Goliath’s shoulders tense. 

“Just - I trust you, of course I do, Alanys. I just - I don’t like the actual wound being touched. It’s all healed and healthy and everything, but I can’t feel the actual wound. And that freaks me out. Not only am I missing a fucking limb, but I can’t even feel the place it left from,” came Klelia’s grunted explanation. 

Alanys retracted her hands. “I don’t have to do this,” she offered gently. 

Klelia shook her head, “No, it’s fine, really. I think friendly touch will help normalise this, anyway. I’m just setting my boundaries.” 

Alanys nodded silently. She cocked her head and stared at the shoulder inquisitively. 

“Can you feel anywhere around the wound?” 

The half-Goliath paused. Could she? Curiously, she used her left hand to feel around her shoulder. Finally, she responded, “My trapezius. I have sensation in my trapezius muscle. That’s the closest.” 

Alanys nodded. “Do I have your permission to rest my hands on your trapezius muscles while I look, and use it to turn your torso slightly if I need to adjust the angle?” 

After a moment of thought, Klelia nodded. “That’s fine.” 

“Okay,” whispered Alanys. “If you want me to stop at any point, you tell me, okay? I’m privileged that you’ve allowed me this opportunity, and you have every right to ask me to stop if you’re uncomfortable.” 

Klelia rolled her eyes, “Yeah, okay Mum.” 

Instead of a light-hearted response back, Klelia was shocked when Alanys took her face between her hands and peered her serious irises into her own. 

“I’m serious, Klelia. I love you. You’re my oldest friend and confidante. You know how absolutely insane I am, and yet you stay. You’ve got my back. And I’ve got yours.” The halfling gestured to her friend’s missing limb, “This is such a big event in your life. I’m so sorry it happened. And I know my words don’t undo anything, but I need you to know that I still love you, and you still have all of my respect,” Alanys maintained her gaze. 

Goddamn halfling poetry. Klelia winced as a lone tear dared to make its dangerous trek down her cheek. 

“Part of that respect is respecting your boundaries. Losing a limb is a big fucking deal, Klel, and you are so so tough to have healed and rehabilitated on your own. With this change comes other changes. Like you said, you find it uncomfortable that you can’t feel a part of your body. I want to respect that.” 

Klelia had not planned on blubbering like a baby when she’d walked into this cafe. “I’m sorry, I -” she started. 

Alanys shushed her. “Do not apologise. You’ve got nothing to apologise for.” Then, having decided the time for deep feelings had passed, the halfling’s demeanour perked up considerably. 

“Now,” she announced, “dry your eyes, you beautiful beast! ‘Tis no time for tears! I get to inspect me a kickass warrior wound!” Alanys reached her hands forward, their slowed pace the only indicator that she hadn’t forgotten the conversation from moments before. She glanced towards Klelia, who gave her a small nod. 

Klelia watched her friend fondly. When her sinuses had finally cleared, she teased, 

“I didn’t know you were such a wordsmith, ‘Lanys.” 

Alanys waved her off distractedly. “Oh, you know what they say about halflings - c’est la vie.”

~ O.M.A

"You look... different. Hair cut?"

"I lost an arm."

"I know. The hair cut thing was a farce. I just didn't want to be rude. But since you brought it up, what the hell happened to you?"

[olliewrites-stuff]

An Open Letter to Hera, Queen of the Gods

Hera.

I've re-written this note countless times,

And this is the best I have so far...

I was angry at first -

An uncontrollable rage

Burned its way through my dark veins

At your betrayal.

You were meant to be my hero...

And you were

For a while;

A strong, independent queen of the gods?

The protector of women?

The deity of marriage,

Childbirth,

And fertility?

You were a strong woman

Unafraid of her femininity -

You were my idol.

My younger,

Terrified,

Gay and genderqueer self

Saw you as hope -

That one day I too would be able to

Embrace my femininity,

Despite everything that made me want to

Renounce it

Because I just didn't

'fit in.'

You sit high on that pedestal

Within Greek mythology.

O Queen of the Gods,

O Goddess and protector of women,

Of marriage,

Of childbirth,

Of family,

O how the world sits rapt at your feet...

O Hera,

Doth thine throne of lies

Adequately support such an undeserving,

Holy,

Rear?

You flaunt the title of

'Goddess of Women'

With a sparkling smile,

As a gruesome history

Of unearned punishment and torture -

Cast by you onto those you

Supposedly protect -

Is hidden away.

Out of sight, out of mind,

Right?

O Hera,

O Goddess of ...

Victim Blamers,

Tell me how much longer

You are going to play the facade

Of protector,

When you have such a contrasting history

Painting a gruesome portrait on

The wall behind you?

I will admit that Zeus

Did not treat you fairly as his bride -

Ever the inconsiderate immortal being,

He spat on the marriage you held sacred

And slept with various others

Without your consent.

Having heard the stories of Zeus and his...

Adventures...

I am horrified at his history of

Taking

T a k i n g

T A K I N G

from others -

Rarely seeking their consent -

And acknowledge that,

As his bride,

You faced an unyielding world of hurt

As he broke your trust

Time and time again.

... I do not,

However,

Pardon you for your crimes against those

You supposedly seek to protect.

Io,

Alcmena,

Semele,

Callisto -

A handful of the many innocent women

(and future children)

You tortured mercilessly

For situations in which

They emerged as victims and survivors.

Zeus may have been

The Tyrant

Of Greek mythology,

But you took the crown as

The Brute.

... I realise that my mortal words

Could not possibly impact your ethereal self.

I realise that this message is no more than

Words on a page,

But

You now have one less blind admirer,

And that has to be enough for me.

Sincerely,

Ollie

© O.M.A

[outsiderslamb]

💛Tender Headcanons because Valentine’s day is for best buddies too! 💛

————

The gang has a tradition of going on long journeys together. They’ll look for any excuse to do so; Darry has to go out of town? Pile in crew!

During big storms, cold weather, or just because they feel like it, they’ll sometimes clear the living room and lay out pillows and blankets on the floor, then all cuddle up in a big snuggle pile and fall asleep. Somebody almost always gets smushed under somebody else, but theres no hard feelings.

Say it with me now. FOREHEAD 👏 KISSES 👏 lots of them! I’m a sucked for platonic intimacy.

Dancing together. When somebody saves up enough for a record, they run straight to the Curtis house to play it, because of course that means getting to just sit there and enjoy it, or getting to dance with whoever else is feeling playful.

WRESTLING: These boys have WWE in their living room every damn day. Sometimes Darry gets sick of it so he just grabs whoever won’t stop being rambunctious and tackles them down in a hug, not letting go until they calm down (like my cat does with my kitten)

[olliewrites-stuff]

Is this seat taken?

Kerrin vaulted over the metal bench and made a beeline for the figure huddled in the corner, her nose deep in a book about… something. Kerrin didn’t wear their glasses today. 

Approaching the engrossed brunette, they gestured to the place directly next to her and asked, "Can I sit here?" 

The reader jolted. Her nose withdrew from the book as a frown settled on her face. "No," she huffed shortly. 

Undeterred, Kerrin continued, "Okay, how about here?" 

The girl frowned impossibly deeper, "That's my lap." 

Kerrin rolled their eyes, "Yes or no, you prick."

They watched with rising joy as the trademarked scowl made its way onto the girl’s face. Gods, they loved pissing off Laura. It was so easy! She’d made it very clear, long ago, that the two of them could never coexist peacefully. Kerrin had grown to revel in the unique and surprisingly vast range of scowls and frowns they could pull from the other. 

If Laura was so determined to hate them, why not have fun with it? 

The girl in question rolled her eyes viciously, “Like I’d allow your bony ass anywhere near my lap, you cretin.” 

Kerrin grinned. Let it be known, it was by no means a friendly grin. No, it was self-serving and predatory. Like a hunter watching prey fall right into their trap. She’d walked right into it. 

“Well, well, well!” they crowed gleefully, “How titillating to know that my ass has been on your mind! Interesting choice of word, you have there: bony. Not scrawny, not voluptuous, not thicc, but bony… You must've been studying my ass and its interactions with laps very closely! ”

Laura’s scrawny lips almost disappeared in the affronted thinning she put them through. 

“It is quite an exemplary ass, I admit,” Kerrin drawled, “I never took you for an ass girl, my sweet! That juicy piece of information is my new learned fact for the day!” 

Egged on by the other’s silence, they continued their fanfare, “It changes things up quite notably to know you’re admiring my ass from afar! I shall have to consult my wardrobe! Mayhaps some scandalously high booty shorts are in my near future…” With a suggestive eyebrow waggle, Kerrin continued, “Please know, my dear Laura, that the next pair of booty shorts I don, I don for your eyes, and your eyes only!”

Laura scoffed loudly. She closed her book with a loud slap and narrowed burning eyes at Kerrin. “You’re ridiculous. An absolute fool,” she hissed. 

Kerrin grinned. They leaned their face close to the startled brunette’s, lips moving a hair's breadth from the girl’s as they whispered sweetly, “And yet, my darling Laura, I’m yet to hear you deny any of it.” 

The brunette stuttered for a beat while Kerrin’s grin deepened. “For someone who’s meant to hate me, you spend a suspicious amount of time apparently looking at my ass, and you curiously refrain from denying you do so, despite multiple opportunities.” 

In a moment of bold stupidity, swept up in their heated exchange, Kerrin closed the miniscule gap between their faces to suck Laura’s quivering lower lip into their mouth and nibble it. They released it a breath later, pleased to see the rising flush on her face. 

“Not bad,” they breathed thoughtfully. “You don’t taste as bitter as I assumed.” 

Kerrin straightened their back and began waltzing away from the frozen girl. They turned back momentarily to call out cheerfully, “See ya, sweet cheeks!”, leaving Laura to hold a silent hand to her lips in wonder, staring confusedly at their disappearing figure. 

━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━

“IT’S LIKE SOMETHING FROM A ROMCOM!” squealed Nyasha, flopping backwards onto the fading sunflower quilt. “Gods, I always knew there was unspoken sexual tension between you two!” 

Laura rolled her eyes. Her best friend had never refrained from alerting her of this suspicion. Despite all attempts to deny and debunk the accusation, the bubbly blonde refused to change her opinion. 

“It wasn’t sexual,” Laura claimed.

Nyasha’s responding laugh was loud and mockingly boisterous. She sat up on the edge of Laura’s bed, bent over at her middle, gasping for air between her guffaws. The blonde attempted multiple times to speak before being overtaken by another severe wave of giggles. 

Rude. 

“L - Laura,” she wheezed, “Hon, they suCKED YOUR LIP INTO THEIR MOUTH!” 

The affronted brunette crossed her arms defensively. “It was just to take me off guard,” she defended. 

Nyasha eyebrows wriggled disgustingly suggestively, “And based on the fact you haven’t stopped talking about it since, I think it’s safe to say it worked!” she crowed. 

Sometimes, Laura regretted ever befriending Nyasha. Sure, she was her best friend, but she could be a dick. Especially when it came to interactions between Kerrin and Laura. The brunette chose this moment to dream of an alternate reality, in which, instead of sharing her juice box with Nyasha in kindergarten, she’d slammed her smug face into the mud. 

Imagining 5-year-old Nyasha, face caked with mud, blonde hair dyed brown with the smelly substance, and tears paving their way down her rosy little cheeks, gave Laura a desperately required mental escape during the other’s ruthless teasing. 

“In my humble opinion,” Nyasha continued, as if this was a reality in which her opinion was desired, “I’m glad Kerrin has finally made the first move to end your stupid feud.” 

The steepled fingers really weren’t necessary. They made her look like a cheesy movie villain. 

“This sexually-intense flirtation today was their attempt to, finally, express their desire to change the terms of your relationship…” She frowned, deep in thought, “God knows you weren’t going to make the first move. You’re both quite useless, really.” 

At this, Laura scoffed, “They don’t fucking like me, Nyasha, be serious for a moment. They did the lip thing to take me off guard. What about the comment about the ‘flavour’ of my mouth?” 

The blonde stood up rapidly, “Laura, there is no platonic or ‘enemy’ reason to suck someone’s lip into your mouth, and then whisper seductively about how they taste. I mean, come on, ‘not as bitter as I assumed’? Girl, they put thought into how you taste!” 

Laura opened her mouth to argue. She stood there with her lower jaw hanging silently for a long beat before slamming it shut. It was no use. Nyasha wasn’t going to back down. The best thing she could do was leave their conversation be. 

She frowned at the floor, “I’m gonna go make some toast,” she announced. “Do you want any?” 

Nyasha shook her head. 

Unbeknownst to Laura, her best friend snatched her phone as soon as she was out of the room, unlocking it and scrolling down the list of contacts…

━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━

“You don’t taste as bitter as I assumed,” Kerrin mouthed sarcastically to themselves, allowing their head to fall heavily onto the desk in front of them. 

What the fuck was that interaction earlier today? What the fuck was that comment?? 

Classes had long since ceased for the day, but their interaction in the lunch room still haunted Kerrin. The ghost of their actions followed them home, taunting mercilessly by replaying the conversation on repeat. 

Christ, teasing Laura was one thing, but the lip thing?? That bordered on harassment! Screw it, lack of consent, with someone who hated Kerrin’s guts, it was definitely some sort of physical or sexual harassment. And, look, their history was rocky at best. The taunting back and forth for years reminded Kerrin of pulling pigtails on the playground, except they were grown-ass adults. 

It had never, however, veered into this territory. 

They groaned, wallowing in self-pity and self-hatred. They needed to turn themselves in. Apologise to Laura, then turn themselves in. 

Just as they’d accepted their fate like one destined for the gallows, a ping from their phone attracted their attention. Kerrin grabbed the phone, face still smooshed against the desk, turned on its side to see the screen: 

LAURAPALOOZA: about earlier…

What. The. Fuck? Laura never messaged them! Kerrin had forgotten her number was even saved to their phone; they’d exchanged details as a necessary measure during a group project in high school. The exchange was one of the most morose interactions Kerrin thought they’d had in their life. 

Remembering their earlier decision, they decided to bite the bullet and respond: 

KERRINATOR: hey. i’m so sorry. what i did crossed boundaries i shouldn’t have. i realise that now. it’ll never happen again, i promise.

Kerrin bit their thumbnail anxiously as the grey bubble that indicated Laura was typing appeared and disappeared multiple times. When no responding message appeared, they tried desperately to do more damage control. 

KERRINATOR: i’m really sorry, Laura. i know we argue a lot, but i do respect you. the lip thing today was obviously unwanted and disrespectful. it won’t happen again.

…

LAURAPALOOZA: What if I said I wanted it to happen again?

Someone needed to call an ambulance, because Kerrin’s heart officially stopped. 

They bolted into an upright seated position, mouth agape, staring at the ten little words on their screen. 

KERRINATOR: actual?

As soon as their message sent, Kerrin stood, barely noticing their desk chair falling to the floor in their urgent scramble. What the fuck was happening? There was a two minute delay before Laura’s response pinged:

LAURAPALOOZA: Sure. 

Well, the tone of that message sure was different, Kerrin thought. But, in for a penny, in for a pound, they supposed. Their dynamic was already fucked, what damage could a little honesty do, at this point? 

Kerrin grabbed their phone and furiously tapped an honest response. 

━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━

Laura was livid. 

No, scratch that, she didn’t think there was a word in the English language to describe just how incensed she was with Nyasha. To think that her best friend had unlocked her phone, abused her best friend privileges, and messaged KERRIN, pretending to be her, was fucking unbelievable. 

Laura had returned, unannounced, to her own bedroom, plate of honey toast in her hand, with one piece already held between her teeth, and had frozen at the sight of Nyasha typing furiously on her phone. 

The blonde’s head had whipped up at the sudden intrusion, startled, and looking suspiciously guilty. 

This guilt immediately raised alarms in Laura’s head. 

Nyasha didn’t do guilty. 

The two remained in a silent, staring standoff, when Laura’s phone pinged. Nyasha’s eyes darted to the screen. Her eyes widened at whatever she saw there. 

…What followed had been a whispered explanation and argument. Nyasha showed Laura the text chain with Kerrin silently. 

Laura re-read the last few messages of the exchange incredulously: 

LAURAPALOOZA: What if I said I wanted it to happen again?

KERRINATOR: actual? 

There was no backing out. The least she could do to save face was to try and coax something embarrassing out of Kerrin, something to hold over their head as reason to give her some peace and quiet. 

In a fit of rage, the brunette snatched the phone back and typed out a cold reply. Her fingers tapped the glass phone screen so viciously, the sound of each key being pressed could be heard throughout the room.

LAURAPALOOZA: Sure. 

She threw the phone on her bed, turning blazing eyes to drill into a cowering Nyasha. “I can’t fucking believe you,” she hissed. The blonde hung their head in shame. At least Laura could revel in the fact that her supposed best friend felt bad about her actions. 

When the phone pinged again, two sets of eyes swivelled to face it intensely. Laura squeezed her eyes shut and waved towards the device, “You read it,” she ordered Nyasha. 

The blonde read the screen. Her eyebrows raised. Silently, she handed the phone to Laura without a sound. 

KERRINATOR: with your consent, i’d do it again. i don’t know why we’ve wasted all this time fighting when we could’ve been kissing. i’d much rather kiss you again than annoy you just to have an excuse to interact with you. 

What. The. Fuck? 

The entire world, as Laura knew it, crumbled. 

Kerrin was being so honest? And so… soft? Genuinely caring? Where the fuck had this come from? The brunette sunk to the floor, hands anchored in her hair. She looked searchingly at Nyasha, who stared back equally shocked and joined her on the floor. 

The phone pinged again. Then again. And again.

KERRINATOR: with your consent of course! but who am i kidding, you probably hate my guts, and with good reason

KERRINATOR: shit, i’ve really fucked this up, haven’t i? 

KERRINATOR: is it too late to say i’m just kidding? probably. fuck, i’m sorry.

Laura scrambled for the phone, and upon seeing the string of increasingly panicked messages, began drafting a message back… Her fingers remained poised over the keyboard as all words fled her brain. What the fuck could she say? This had gotten so messy. 

She was surprised to feel an urge to comfort Kerrin. (Nyasha, and that little part of Laura’s brain that she resolutely ignored, would disagree, but she was in no state to consult either of them). 

Laura squeezed her eyelids closed tightly. She pondered how she could reassure Kerrin. 

Fuck it. 

She tapped their contact on her screen and selected ‘Call.’

© O.M.A

Valentine's OTP Prompts 10:

"I have some questions that I'm not going to ask. Except for the obvious are you okay?" "No, thanks for asking."

"Can I sit here?" "No." "Okay, how about here?" "That's my lap." "Yes or no, you prick."

"Why are you tracing my fingers?" "Because they're very pretty."

"Do I look okay in this? I feel kind of ridiculous." "The only ridiculous you are is ridiculously gorgeous."

"Have we ever done anything romantic?" "I find laying atop each other watching shit TV very romantic."

"Can you call my phone?" "Oh, sure." "Thanks-" *Friends Don't Kiss Friends blares*

"I think there's only one bed..." "Damn, fanfiction has taught me way too much about this scenario."

"Sorry to bother you, but can I sleep here with you?" "Wha? Why?" "The heat cut off and I can't feel my limbs."

"It's so dreary outside." "Then let's make it sunny inside!"

"Love is like a drug, and I'm not an addict." "Sure. I totally believe you."

[spiderfoool]

When Steve had initially found out about a movie theater you can go to in your car he was over the moon.

When he was a kid he could barely go to the movie theater at all, scraping together pennies to go see The Wizard of Oz just one more time. But he did love the movies; all the bright colors, the acting, the orchestra playing at the beginning, it was truly amazing. So of course when Bucky asked if Steve wanted to go to the drive in he said yes.

They didn’t even care what they were going to see, just happy to have the experience. When the two pulled into the outdoor theater in their pickup truck Bucky had borrowed from Stark for the occasion, Steve was practically vibrating in his seat, he was so excited.

“I don’t even think I’ve been to the movies since I went on ice, Buck! And you can watch it from your car , this is just. It’s just so cool.” Steve calmed himself for a moment. “Sorry, I’ve probably been talking your ear off the whole time” he chuckled a bit at his own child-like enthusiasm.

Bucky smiled at Steve as they backed into a space, the flatbed in the direction of the screen. “Don’t be. Seeing you happy makes me happy. I’ll go get the snacks and the little speaker thing.” he pecked Steve’s cheek and set off for the concessions stand.

The former assassin couldn’t keep the dumb grin off his face as he approached the stand, still basking in the glow of his wonderfully adorable husband. He may or may not have freaked the poor ship attendant out a bit, but that’s okay. Anything for Steve.

As Bucky walked back to the car the previews had already begun playing and Steve could be seen from afar watching the screen intently. Quickly tossing the snacks in the back of the truck and pulling out his phone, Bucky snapped a pictures a few feet from the car, happy to have nice photos of his husband who was currently pretending he didn’t see the camera for the sake of the photos.

“C’mon, let’s lay the blankets out,” Bucky kissed Steve’s cheek once again and grabbed the blankets from the backseat. He bundled a few up into a makeshift pillow and lauded the rest out for the both of them to lie on. As soon as he was done Steve flopped down onto the flatbed, immediately groaning in pain from the harsh metal.

Bucky laughed. “Yeah maybe don’t throw yourself onto a metal vehicle?” Steve flipped him off. “Love you too, honey.”

Bucky sat down next to Steve like a normal human being and wrapped an arm around the other man, cuddling him close. Steve huffed, wriggling around until he got comfortable practically in Bucky’s lap, his legs thrown over the man’s legs and his arms drawn up to his chest.

They stayed comfortable like that as the movie played in the background, occasionally exchanging sweet kisses and snarky comments about the film, and it was enough. The perfect kind of relaxing night that brings in nothing but good feelings.

For Steve, things like this had always been exciting. Considering the fact that he missed 70 years worth of living it was to be expected, but it wasn’t any less adorable to Bucky. If the man was being honest, he was barely watching the movie at all, content to just see the pleased look on Steve’s face the whole night. The two ended up staying for a second movie, being both too lazy to get up and having way too much fun to leave. And neither of them wouldn’t have it any other way. And so what if the drive-in staff had to personally escort them out, they were national icons. National icons that happened to plan extensive date nights at the drive-in every week from then on.

[annoyingsortinghat]

A Sky Full Of Stars

A small snippet from a klance fic I just so happen to be writing. Link to the rest is at the bottom.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They had had many a rough battle before. So why was this one so different? As the paladins exited their lions it felt as though a somber feeling had draped itself over the castle, but the paladins had only suffered the usual cuts, scrapes and bruises. So why was dinner silent? Did something happen? 

The plan had been simple. Rescue this planet from the Galra. Lance, Pidge and Hunk would come in as a distraction to draw fire from the innocent villagers, while Shiro would load up his lion with as many natives as he could and Kieth would get the rest to safety. Their helmets had gone out mid-mission, but they knew the plan. So Kieth did his job, and stayed away from Enemy fire as much he could while the other four lions did their job. It was a very successful mission. 

Kieth couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off, and he tried to sleep but failed. He gave in and walked to the control room, only to feel a slight pang of jealousy run through his gut as he saw Lance and Allura sitting side by side, watching the stars. Kieth turned to walk away, not wanting to endure any more than he had to, when Lance whipped around. 

“Kieth? What are you doing up?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

http://archiveofourown.org/works/10917597/chapters/24279120

[that-fictional-dad]

Directory/Byf

❥ Main - you are here! My Carrd is here, please read it! This DNI doesn’t apply to my community pages.

✎ mlm/nblm Imagines exactly what it sounds like!

✎ Superhero Self Shipping Group + Imagines

I use a unique tagging system so I’ll add that here. I use it across all my personal blogs.

General Tags:

Queue Tag: #queing the husbands

Personal posts/Announcements: #olliesawkward

Art: # ollieart

Writing: #olliewrites

Tag Prefixes:

Romo: For romantic ships!

Noromo: for QPPs and Parabatai

Rents: Parent f/o

Brotp: Either siblings or close friends! Anything platonic that isn’t parents or kids

Smol: for my fictional kids! Not romantic at all. They are my babies.

Warning tags:

Abuse: #w: olliesburningbright

Self harm [rarely used]: #w: fscars

Posts referring to dysphoria or transition: #biggerthanmyb0dy

Pg-13 thirst posts and images: #w: ollies back on his bullshit

Extra dark stuff: #w: olliedarkparts

Medical: #w:surge278

[ollieblogs-stuff]

The Song.

The ocean is wide, but the song is low and deep and it carries her plea out from the harbour waters to her kin. 

For centuries, generations of women in Cherilea’s family had made the trek to land for foolish mortals before returning to their home in the sea. 

It had been Cherilea’s turn. She’d slunk to land smoothly, mother-of-pearl comb wedged securely into her braid. Growing up, she’d admired the comb as it bit through her mother’s curly chocolate tresses. When she arrived on shore, her trepidation was overwhelmed by the knowledge that she was to continue the same legacy of her fore-mothers. 

You know, the classic merfolk deal?  

Allowing a human to steal one of her precious possessions - the comb - and feeding into their belief that the merfolk is trapped in a relationship until they have a child and MAGICALLY retrieve the item again?

… Cherilea’s arrival on land was 4 years ago. Evidently, things had not gone to plan. 

She sits on the edge of the wharf, dangling her human feet over the dark ocean below. She reasons to herself, silently awaiting the arrival of her family, that she hadn’t technically failed the mission. She had found a target. They just didn’t fit the necessary criteria. And Cherilea had been fine with that. She’d been ready to throw away hundreds of years of tradition for her lover. 

Then her lover died. 

Pulling the pearl comb from her hair, Cherilea strokes her fingertips over each tooth. It would be understandable if her family didn’t want anything to do with her. Would it kill Cherilea inside to have her only family reject her while she grieved so strongly? Of course. Nevertheless, it would be understandable.

She had been so happy! And she thought Alyssa had been happy, too. At least, as happy as realistically possible for her human companion. The bubbly, wild-eyed red-head had been her first friend when Cherilea arrived on shore. Alyssa had helped Cherilea laugh her way through the disastrous 6-month period in which she’d genuinely sought out a male mate. 

Cherilea eventually realised that she looked forward to the time spent hanging out with Alyssa after her dates with men, more than any part of the date experiences themselves. She decided there was no going back after their first magical kiss. 

For all the joy she brought Cherilea, Alyssa struggled constantly with her mental health. She always had. She used to say that intense grief and misery were her default settings. This was always an abrupt shock to any of her new acquaintances because she was an enchanting and charismatic beacon on the outside. 

Alyssa was an enthusiastic motivator for other people; she would not let the ones she loved get away with talking themselves down. She made sure to build them back up even stronger than before. 

Cherilea wipes away the pesky tears that begin to fall without permission. She rolls up her sleeves in an attempt to cool down. Being made for the cool temperatures of the ocean, mermaid biology means that Cherilea is covered in a healthy layer of blubber. She’d never thought anything of it until she walked ashore. In the ocean, blubber is survival. Blubber is health. Blubber is no one’s fucking business. Having blubber on land means she constantly runs hot - regardless of the season. 

Arriving on land, Cherilea experienced body-shaming for the first time in her life. It was relentless. Alyssa hadn’t let an iota of it fly. Whilst Cherilea would curl into herself silently when anyone dared to make a comment about her weight, Alyssa would fire back rapidly. She was an expert on making the insulters feel guilty and ashamed. 

Alyssa loved Cherilea’s curves. At first, Cherilea thought it had been superficial or forced - something Alyssa thought she was expected to do and say as a dutiful girlfriend. Over time, the mermaid had come to accept that her lover was genuine. 

It was all in the mindless actions. 

When they silently cuddled on the couch, Cherilea tucked under Alyssa’s arm, as they read or watched TV. Alyssa’s hand would wander innocently across the rolls of fat on Cherilea’s midsection. Her eyes and focus would remain transfixed on the media in front of her, and it would take multiple calls of her name to break her trance with a confused puppy-dog look at her mermaid. 

Or when Alyssa was having one of her severe depression slumps, and would lie wordlessly on some cushy, available part of Cherilea. While she wouldn’t respond with more than grunts and unseeing stares, she’d nuzzle close for comfort. 

Cherilea wished Alyssa had loved her own body equally. 

Reflecting back, Alyssa’s unhealthy relationship with her body image was probably linked more to her desire to die than having a skewed perception of standards of beauty. Cherilea’s stomach sours with guilt and an unending sense of loss when she remembers those throw away comments and moments that she SHOULD have noticed sooner. That could’ve helped her save Alyssa. 

“Hopefully one day I’ll waste away to nothing!” 

“Someone has to discover what’s past the point of ‘running on empty’; might as well be me!” 

God, there were so many more. Of course, Cherilea had been concerned. She’d noticed that these sorts of things were indicators of her lover’s worsening mental health. She’d done everything at her disposal to get Alyssa help - helped her schedule appointments with her psychologist again, kept track of her meds and made sure she refilled them as necessary, LOVED her with every cell in her body! 

… but it wasn’t enough. Cherilea didn’t know it wasn’t enough until she walked through the front door of their shared flat last Wednesday and found Alyssa on the couch. She’d ingested her entire month’s supply of medications in one afternoon, and chased it down with a bottle of absinthe. She died in her sleep, choking on her own vomit, while Cherilea was at work. 

Cherilea only remembered the events of the past week since the discovery of Alyssa’s body in solitary fragments - isolated screenshots of her grief. 

The ambulance and paramedics. 

Their empty living-room. 

Accepting a shaky embrace from Alyssa’s older brother. 

Standing in front of the crowd at the funeral - assumedly reading a eulogy of some sort. 

Cardboard boxes. 

Locking their front door for the last time. 

Pulling her small suitcase across the uneven wooden boards of the wharf… 

Hearing the soft rippling of water by her dangling feet, Cherilea sniffs and wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. Casting her reddened blue eyes to the murky ocean depths, hesitant relief rolls over her as her mother’s concerned face emerges. 

“Cherilea, it’s about time! What - oh,” her mother’s voice softens as she processes her daughter’s trembling face and body. 

Cherilea tries to respond, but each and every time, she chokes on her tears. Her mother clucks soothingly, 

“Oh sweetheart…. What did he do to you?” 

This just makes Cherilea cry even harder. She probably sounds like a dying walrus. But it’s all just too much. There is so much to explain, to apologise for, before she can begin (hopefully) receiving comfort. 

Might as well rip the bandaid off. 

“I - Not -” Cherilea attempts to get words out around her sobs. “She! She -” 

A pause. At the lack of response, the mermaid curls into herself. She’d expected this as a possible reaction, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less. 

Suddenly, her mother hoists her own body onto the wharf, next to her daughter. 

“Oh, Cherilea… Honey, it’s okay. What did SHE do to you?” 

Sniffing a - frankly disgusting - volume of mucus down her throat, Cherilea finally stammers out, “She - she - she left me, Mum. She died…” 

Inhaling a deep breath, she clarified, “I knew she wasn’t okay, but I thought I was doing enough! I tried so hard! And she - she waited for me to be at work, Mum. She waited until she knew I wouldn’t be able to check in on her. She did it on our couch, Mum! She waited for me to come home and f-find her body!” 

“Cherilea…” her mother’s whispered, heart-broken, expression of shock is a miniscule comfort. 

“Why didn’t she contact me, Mum? I would’ve stayed up with her! I would’ve watched the next sunrise with her! I would’ve spent the rest of my life watching sunrises with her - keeping her alive,” the unimaginable grief is gradually forming into anger as Cherilea continues to speak. 

“She waited until I was at work because she knew that otherwise, I would keep her alive! Who does that, Mum? Who does that to the one they love?” 

A sudden, hysterical laugh bubbles up her throat, contrasting the seemingly never-ending stream of salty tears. “Maybe it is all my fault! It was all a mistake! Maybe I should’ve just done what I was meant to do and found a guy to dump my comb with! Then she wouldn’t have been pulled into the destructive cyclone that is me!” 

As her mother pulls her into a tight embrace, Cherilea almost misses the whispered response. 

“No, Cherilea. A love like that is never a mistake. Tradition be damned.”

Cherilea allows herself to be pulled under the ocean waves by her mother. She barely notices the transformation from her human legs into a tail once more. Her mother cradles her face between two webbed hands, locking eyes with her daughter. 

“Listen to me, Cherilea. This pain is not going to go away quickly. It may never truly fade away entirely. But this grief will slowly form into acceptance. Your lover’s loss is tragic. No-one should have to go through that, but it isn’t your fault. There will be other sunrises. They’re going to hurt for a while. You’re going to wonder why you keep looking at them.” 

Her mother’s stare is intense. 

“And one day, you’re going to realise that you enjoy watching the sunrise again BECAUSE they remind you of her. And no-one can take that away from you.” 

~ O.M.A

Text: The kingdom by the sea is cruel. A captured mermaid being carried through the castle gates briefly caught the eye of a harpy in a cage above, a glance full of rage and compassion.

[olliewrites-stuff]

An Eternal Waltz.

Mighty goddess,

It amazes me how quaint

You make me feel as I gaze

Upwards at you.

You turn me from an ocean

Into a most precious

Cupped-handful of water.

You make me feel small

And certain.

There's a safety in being held

That I've never truly known,

But you make me believe

I may one day find this comfort.

My seas are vast,

Yet you -

Pinprick of lunar marvel -

Cause me to gape

Open-mouthed in awe

At your brilliance.

I follow your movements

In a hypnotised enthrall

As I envision us engaged

In a cosmic dance

Far above the heavens.

[Love, Ocean]

》《》《》《》《

Tumultuous sea,

Whilst you find comfort

In stillness,

I admire your stirring passion.

The path I travel is monotonous

And routine.

When I gaze down at you,

I never know what I shall see.

This spontaneity

Ignites something dormant

Within my soul

That I had thought long gone.

Perhaps this feeling is hope,

Friendship,

Love,

Or something far deeper.

I feel the hand you hold out

For me,

Even though we are forever

Hundreds of thousands of kilometres

Apart.

I accept eagerly accept your

Request for a dance,

Regardless;

Let us waltz together into eternity.

Our perpetual journey

Around the Sun

Doesn't seem quite so lonely

Anymore.

[Love, Moon]

© O.M.A

[outsiderslamb]

Headcanons in the form of book descriptions// Ponyboy Edition

(Let me know who you want me to do next!)

“Exceptionally peculiar in its own way.” Had been the teacher’s comment on Ponyboy’s last creative writing assignment (before giving him a D+), and if that didn’t describe the boy to a T then nothing in this whole wide world could.

He had peachy skin and cheeks that were seemingly perpetually red, making him look flustered no matter what he did, his hair was longer than most boy’s in his school and the color of freshly picked chestnuts; just long enough to be swept into a ponytail or tied in a braid that would brush against his shoulder. His eyes though were the real kicker; They were a pair of misty bogs; made of deep green and a paler light that seemed to cloud over them when he was lost in thought (Always)

His clothes weren’t too out of the ordinary, just hand-me-downs from brothers and brother-like-figures, always a few sizes too big, never brand new. He didn’t mind wearing clothes that were too big however; the massive pockets were perfect for storing rocks, plants, bugs, frogs or anything he could find.

[olliewrites-stuff]

Beautiful Things.

“You came back!” she whispered disbelievingly.

Floronia had been convinced that the wizard currently huffing out of breath in front of her had left her for the final time.

Gone in the night, leaving only a scrap of aged parchment with a hastily scribbled message resting on the pillow where their head should have remained. The druid had awoken the following morning to the rays of dawn gently stroking her face. She’d rolled over, expecting to meet the warm mass of her bedfellow, and felt only the crinkling of the note on her cheek and empty air.

Zaire stared determinedly at the mountains behind Floronia. Not making eye contact. Never making eye contact. "For some reason, I'm attracted to you,” the wizard grunted.

A month ago, this statement would have caused the druid’s stomach to stir excitedly. As it stood, after three weeks of tears, reflection, and grief, these words only sickened Floronia.

Unbidden, the words from that note on the pillow flew through her mind:

Floronia,

I’ve left. Don’t try to find me; I do not wish to be found. We both knew this wasn’t going to last. I’ve just taken the initiative to end this before either of us gets hurt.

My family have accepted me back into their society.

I’m moving to my next adventure. You should too.

Regards,

Zaire

It was far too late for the druid to be unharmed. Every re-read of the message had shattered part of herself even further. The words were clinical, formal, reflecting nothing of the love Floronia had been convinced bloomed between the two. This hurt more than the act of physically leaving. It hurt more than if Zaire had simply left with no note.

No, they’d taken the time to write a letter. They had evidently respected Floronia enough - in some twisted version of respect in their mind - to leave a note. The removal of emotion in the note proved, to the druid at least, that they had never loved her.

She’d only started adventuring to impress the wizard.

She’d only dared to believe she had a chance with them because of the attention the usually aloof, disgraced noble had blessed her with.

What a fool she’d been.

Presently, Zaire cleared their throat. Their dark, furrowed eyebrows hung like thunderclouds over piercing grey eyes.

“Well?” they asked.

Floronia closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. Tapping into the wells of hurt that lay ready within her chest, she allowed them to leach the emotion from her tone.

“Thank you for letting me know,” she droned.

Zaire scoffed, furious eyes finally meeting the druid’s own.

“That’s it? That’s all you have to say?” they hissed.

The druid shrugged.

Zaire’s features stretched into an incredulous frown.

“I come back to see you, tell you I’m attracted to you, and all you have to say is ‘thank you?’ Where have your emotions gone?”

The druid barely squashed a desire to scoff. Bold for the wizard to ask about feelings. They’d made Floronia feel like an over-emotional idiot all throughout their… well, it barely counted as a relationship, but she supposed that was the word that fit best.

“You’ve never cared about my emotions before,” she stated icily. “You certainly don’t deserve them now.”

Zaire dragged a hand desperately through their cropped blonde hair. They seemed… upset?

“Gods, Flo, I’m sorry!” they all but shouted in frustration. “Alright? I’m sorry! What else do I need to say?” Those icy eyes met hers again. This time, a hint of desperation lurked in the irises.

The druid frowned, unswayed.

“What if I said I’ve moved on to my next adventure?” she asked calmly.

This seemed to confuse the wizard. “What?”

“‘I’m moving to my next adventure. You should too,’” Floronia quoted. “Your message was pretty clear. What if I’ve moved to my next adventure?”

A flurry of emotions overtook Zaire’s face in quick succession, surprise, disbelief, anger, and mourning, settling finally on bereavement. Floronia had never seen this many emotions on her ex-lover’s face. It was bittersweet to see it now.

The wizard’s shoulders slumped. They ran a shaking hand over their face as they exhaled loudly.

Finally, their eyes ghosted across each of Floronia’s features. An expression of miserable acceptance settled itself on their face.

“W-Who?” Zaire croaked.

When the Floronia remained silent, the wizard squeezed their eyes shut as if preparing for a blow.

“Just - just tell me,” they grunted. “Who?”

Floronia’s frown deepened even though she knew the other wasn’t looking at her.

‘What makes you think you have any right to know about the people I’ve been with since you?”

The effect was immediate. Zaire stumbled backwards as if they’d been struck.

“P-People?” they whispered. Their chest heaved with emotions. When their gaze met Floronia’s once again, the druid startled with surprise at the stricken, teary expression on their face.

“I - I don’t have the right, I suppose,” they gasped wetly. “I just - Floronia, I -”

The wizard wiped their nose with a sniff.

“I fucked up,” they stated. “I never should have… You have every right to… I -”

Gods, Floronia had often wished for more displays of emotion from her ex, but this barrage of despair and floundering was unnerving. She almost wanted the old Zaire back.

“Are they people I know?” the wizard whispered.

The druid looked away, not wishing to see the other’s reaction. What she didn’t expect were Zaire’s next words,

“I - that makes sense, I guess. Any of them would give you the life you deserve.”

At this, Floronia whipped back around to face her ex-lover. Where was this coming from?

“What is that supposed to mean?” she hissed.

Zaire startled. Evidently, they hadn’t meant their words negatively. The druid failed to see the alternative to their meaning, though. Zaire hailed from a long line of nobles. They’d been raised in high society. Their path should never have crossed with Floronia’s own.

Years ago,they’d had an affair with the daughter of another noble family, leading to their disgrace and eventual escape to study wizardry. After this fall from grace, Zaire had surrounded themself with miscreants, taking on jobs no matter how deceitful or unlawful.

These people were their peers. These are the people Zaire had implied, in Floronia’s mind, would provide a life she deserved.

These people were no longer their peers, the druid supposed. The note was the first time she’d heard about Zaire’s family accepting them again. She supposed this made sense for their hurried exit from their shared life together. Floronia may have been acceptable company when they were a disowned lowlife, but she had no business in the world of nobility.

Deep inside herself, Floronia knew she didn’t belong in such society, but Zaire cementing this belief had cut her the deepest.

“Flo?” Zaire called.

Evidently, the druid had lost herself deep in thought. This didn’t sound like it was the first time the wizard had called her name.

Fighting back tears, her ice wall crumbling, the druid spat, “Don’t! You don’t get to call me that! You don’t get to nickname me, like I ever mattered to you, like you ever loved - hell, even tolerated me!”

Zaire frowned, “That’s not -”

“Don’t!” Floronia yelled. “I get it, okay, Zaire? I get it. I was never good enough for you. Not even before. I’m especially not good enough for you now that you get to go back to your cushy old life. You never loved me. I was a fool to think that you did. I’m sure you’ve had a great laugh at my expense with your new, posh, friends and lovers, okay? I get it, I’m a fucking joke from your past. A great story to tell at parties, I’m sure!”

Zaire’s frown deepened, “But, Flo, I -”

“Stop it, Zaire!” Floronia screamed. Tears flowed freely down her face. All the words she’d whispered to herself late at night in the last three weeks bubbled to the surface and out of her mouth. “You left me! You don’t get to pretend to act hurt for pity points! You left me, in the middle of the night, with only a fucking note, to return to your old life. Your beautiful life, with beautiful people, and beautiful places! You’ll find some beautiful woman to call your wife, make beautiful friends, and find other beautiful women to cheat on your fucking wife with!”

She inhaled deeply, “I was a fool to think I could ever stand in for these beautiful things. What, you’re attracted to me? Big fucking whoop! You’ll find someone else. Someone worthy to you. Someone you respect enough to maybe actually talk to instead of abandoning in the middle of the night!”

Floronia stepped towards Zaire. Something deep within her smirked at the way the other cowered beneath her intimidating stance. Serves them right.

“You have no fucking right to ask about what or who I’ve done in your absence to fill the gaping hole in my soul and life that you left. This ‘attraction’ will end. You never loved me. You don’t love me. So, go back to your beautiful life and leave me alone to continue picking up my own broken pieces!”

Out of breath, Floronia’s chest was now the one heaving. She didn’t expect a cool hand to gently card through her hair and over horns. Glancing down at Zaire’s face, the druid was surprised to see an equally gentle expression below the tears.

“I’m sorry,” they whispered. “I shouldn’t have left. I was - it was a really weird situation to be in, with my parents. If I’m honest, I used it as an excuse to leave because I was terrified of my feelings for you.”

Floronia huffed in disbelief and ripped herself from Zaire’s embrace. How dare they? She turned to leave.

“I LOVE YOU,” Zaire shouted.

The words halted the druid in her tracks, but she refused to turn around.

“I’m - I’m really shit at expressing it, obviously. I’m sorry. I don’t just find you attractive, I guess I just said that to protect myself, but now I’m worried you’re really going to leave without me telling you, so… It’s time for me to be self-sacrificing.”

Floronia remained frozen.

“I’ve never loved anyone like you,” Zaire stated, then winced. The druid could practically hear the wince. “Not like that! I mean, I’ve never felt this strongly about anyone, and that scared me. You’re so honest and loving, and I’m just a mess. I thought that if I left, you’d find someone who could love you like you deserve, and I could find someone to fill my time…”

When they next spoke, the wizard’s voice was soft, “Flo, I was wrong. I’ll never find anyone that can hold a candle to you. I can’t say the same for you. I’m sure you have many people eager to fill the place I once, foolishly and selfishly took for granted. A place where they can experience your love and trust so intensely…”

Their voice cracked with the words that followed, “I love you, Floronia. I know that now. I can admit it. I know you don’t need my approval, but - but I don’t care how many people have come before or after me. I can’t say I don’t care if you don’t believe me or take me back, but I can say that it’ll never change my opinion of you. I love you. I’ll love you until the end of time, I know it.”

Floronia’s shoulders shuddered with silent tears. Zaire’s words flowed over her like a soothing balm, but the pain refused to subside. She heard them take a step closer.

“I went back to my parents. It’s a world I don’t belong in, but I’ve tried to make space for myself and someone else. I had something to ask them, and something to grab from them… Floronia…”

The druid heard a rustling behind her. Overwhelmed by curiosity, she whirled around to see Zaire on one knee, holding an ancient and intricate ring between their shaking fingers.

“Floronia,” they whispered. “Will you marry me?”

The druid’s eyes widened, and her mouth opened and closed silently.

“Are you - are you fucking kidding me?” she cried, confused tears welling in her eyes.

Zaire was an asshole, but they’d never been cruel like this.

“This isn’t funny, Zaire,” she gasped, lips trembling.

The corners of the wizard’s mouth turned downwards in concern.

“Flo, I know I’ve done some shitty things, but I would never do something like this insincerely,” they stated calmly, maintaining eye contact with Floronia.

“I love you,” they repeated. “I - I want to give you everything. I want to make up for all my mistakes, and then more. I want to make a life with you. I want you in my life.”

They startled at Floronia’s following burst of tears.

“Take as much time as you need,” they soothed. “Say no if you genuinely don’t want to. But, please, Flo, don’t say no just because you think this is some elaborate prank - which I would never do. I mean this with all sincerity. Let me prove just how much I love you, every day, for the rest of my life.”

Floronia shook her head, tears still pouring down her cheeks, “I’m someone who doesn’t belong in beautiful places,” she whispered.

The wizard stood, pocketing the ring and pulling the druid into a tight embrace. They kissed the top of her head softly,

“You make places beautiful by simply existing in them. You are the most beautiful place,” they murmured into her ear.

When the druid shook her head again, Zaire held her out at arms length.

“Floronia, please,” they begged. “Say yes. Let me prove to you every day how you make my life beautiful, and how much I love you.”

Swallowing around the lump in her throat, the druid finally replied, “No.”

Zaire allowed their arms to fall. They swallowed loudly and darted their eyes away. Floronia managed to catch the grief in them.

“Oh, okay,” the wizard stated desolately. “I, um, I respect your choice. I’ll just - I’ll just leave you alone, then.”

They slumped miserably and turned to leave. Floronia darted a hand out to catch theirs before they could slink away, miserable and gone from her life forever.

“Zaire,” she called calmly.

The other turned a hesitant face towards hers, making no effort to hide their misery.

Floronia pulled the arm towards her. Zaire’s body followed sullenly.

“I - This is a lot,” she explained. “It’s a bit much to rush into an engagement and marriage with so much still not sorted out between us. It would be ludicrous for me to say yes today after everything we’ve been through.”

Zaire looked at the ground and tried to tug their arm away. Floronia held on tighter, pulled them closer, and tilted their head up towards hers with her free hand.

“I’m not saying no forever,” she whispered. The wizard’s eyes lit up with hope.

“Why don’t we start with just trying again? No secrets this time. Take me to your beautiful places. Prove to me that you actually love me. That you’re willing to accept my love. And one day, when the hurt is gone, when our lives are already intertwined, when we have shared visions for our future, then I’ll say yes.”

The grey eyes she adored shone with joy. The pair leaned close together, reuniting their lips with the salty taste of beautiful things to come.

© O.M.A

Prompt #290

“I’m someone who doesn’t belong in beautiful places.”

[olliewrites-stuff]

Him.

“Don’t. Don’t do that. Don’t make me choose. Every time, I’ll pick him. Every time. And I can’t have you hate me for that,” Keira begged.

Tiana ground her teeth in frustration. They’d been going around in circles for what felt like hours. She loved Keira SO MUCH, but her persistent caginess about Aaron had built to a breaking point.

Keira refused to let her gaze meet Tiana’s own. Instead, her darting hazel eyes, set graciously within their sockets, watched a passing truck as if in a trance. Tiana allowed her own brown irises to drink in her lover’s round lively face, framed by the red, shoulder-length hair tight in a bun that she’d loved running her fingers through.

She scrambled for something to say. Possible responses flicked through her mind, but none seemed good enough to end this meaningless fight. And Tiana wanted - no, NEEDED - this fight to end. Whether the result was their continued relationship, or a break-up, she just needed SOMETHING to happen.

Before opening her mouth to ask the potentially relationship-ending question, Tiana allowed herself an innocent moment to appreciate the finer details of her girlfriend’s face. Her eye was drawn to the scar that reached from just under Keira’s left eyebrow. It ran towards her left nostril, and ended on her left cheekbone. When the pair met for their first date, almost two years ago now, Kiera had still been religiously upkeeping her long fringe that swept over the left side of her face.

It had taken months to convince Keira to pin her fringe back. From there, Tiana had worked endlessly over their two-year relationship to show her lover unconditional love for all the little pieces that came together to form Keira. Nowadays, she didn’t have a fringe. She proudly displayed her scar, and Tiana loved her just a little bit more for it.

The origin of the scar, much like the identity of Aaron, was a mystery Keira went out of her way to maintain. Tiana had tried to pry into it, of course. Had tried in many creative ways to somehow coax the truth out of her lover. Every time, though, the red-head would simply shut down; her out-of-character sullenness would always shake Tiana out of her insistent trance.

Based on her girlfriend’s reactions over the years, Tiana had pieced together tid-bits to create a hypothesis… It was from a shitty ex. Keira had dated before - men, women, and nonbinary folks; she was a proud and stupidly attractive pansexual woman. Unfortunately, one of her exes had been a miserable, piece-of-shit human being. Tiana gathered that Keira’s scar came from this shit-head ex. Although Keira no longer loved whoever they were, she still cared enough to hide their identity. And this was the frustrating fact that continued to befuddle Tiana.

Who was this shitty ex? Were they Aaron? And if so, WHY was Keira so insistent on protecting their identity? Keira deserved better than that.

Unable to stall any longer, Tiana squeezed her eyes shut and asked, “Keira, who is Aaron?” At her lover’s silence, she continued, “I know he exists. I know you feel a need to protect him. And I can’t help but wonder WHY. I need to know WHY, Rara! I respect the fact that you need to keep some things private. I don’t need to know everything - every little detail. I just want to know WHO Aaron is. I need to know who is worth our relationship! Who I could lose you to!”

Ignoring the trembling breath she inhaled, Tiana wiped away a small river of tears and continued, “If Aaron really means that much to you, I’ll go quietly. I’d just like to know whose hands I’m leaving you in. I need to know that you’ll be safe.” Trailing off unintentionally, Tiana gently stroked Keira’s scar as she gave her girlfriend a watery smile. “I need to know that Aaron didn’t cause this, or won’t cause you any harm when I go.”

Keira seemed surprised by this outburst. Tiana thought the reaction was understandable. Although she’d had her theory for a while, she’d never voiced it aloud. Keira’s confronted reaction, though, seemed to just confirm her deepest fears. Tiana felt the bottom of her stomach give way at the observation.

“I - I…” Keira stammered, seemingly unsure how to respond.

Tiana sighed. “I understand if you can’t, or don’t want to, tell me. I get it. And I hate that I do. I’d rather I didn’t understand, because then we could continue this perpetual back and forwards,” she paused, taking a moment to inhale deeply. This was it. Time for their relationship to make or break.

“This is it, Keira. I understand if you can’t tell me who Aaron is… But I need to know. And you either tell me who he is, or we’re over. I’m sorry to do this to you, but I need some answers. I’m sick of fighting, and I’m sick of being understanding about the fact that I’ll forever be second to someone I don’t know. I shouldn’t have to do that. And I’d like to think that you respect me enough to either finally let me in and tell me, or let me go if you can’t.”

It was done. Now it was up to Keira. Tiana felt her emotional walls going back up. Either way, she was going to lose. If Keira told her who Aaron was, she would have to take time to process his identity before they moved forward. If Keira wouldn’t reveal Aaron’s identity, Tiana would have to walk away and begin her grieving process.

“I - I…” Keira hung her head. Tiana’s breath caught in the back of her throat.

“I love you, Tiana. You’ve only ever shown me love and care. You taught me to accept myself, flaws and all. And that’s - that’s massive to me,” Keira’s voice was shaky. “I’ve been in some really shitty relationships. I’ve been mistreated. And your genuine acceptance and love has helped me realise that.”

Another shaky breath, “But I meant what I said.” Keira finally looked up, eyes sparkling and determined. “I’ll pick Aaron every time. EVERY time. He brightens my day. He makes me think that everything will be okay. His smile has the power to completely turn my day around for the better.”

Tiana’s heart sank. She knew this was one of the possibilities, but man, she’d hoped for a different outcome.

Keira’s persistent voice continued, albeit warily.

“I love you. And as much as this is fucking scary for me, you taught me hope. You taught me that there is GOOD to be found in people. You are my PERSON. You taught me to take a chance because you taught me that you will always be there to catch me…”

Keira broke eye contact. Her soft voice trembling, “Aaron is my son.”

Wait - WHAT?

“He is my entire world. His father was a piece of shit, and I fought the courts to maintain custody of him. He makes my life a better place to be. He may have come from an unhappy time in my life, but he is worth so much more to me.”

Tiana simply stared, gobsmacked. Keira had a kid? That’s who Aaron was?? Holy shit! This was… fine! She’d been prepared for so much worse!

Keira seemed to interpret Tiana’s silence negatively, for she hurried to continue talking, “He’s four years old now. He’s got the biggest, cutest fucking eyes. His hair is so soft and curly that I wish they made a fabric in that texture. He’s learning so much every day, and I’m so proud to see him grow into what I hope will be an awesome little human…”

Hazel eyes searching her own, Keira whispered, “I’m sorry for not telling you before now. He is my most precious secret, and it was so fucking difficult to keep him from you. I just - I needed to be certain he wouldn’t come into any harm. I was lucky to keep him, and it would have destroyed me if his father took him from me.”

Still frozen in shock, Tiana’s eyes widened as Keira clung to her shoulders and sobbed freely, “I’m so sorry, Tiana. I’m so sorry. I understand if this changes everything. You didn’t agree to date a mum. And I’ve been so distant about Aaron. I’m sorry!” She sniffled and stood upright, arms curled inwards defensively.

“I understand if you want to leave. I just ask that you keep Aaron a secret. He would absolutely love you, I think. But if this isn’t for you, I know you’ve got the love in your heart to keep a four-year-old safe. I know you would never wish him harm. You’re too good for that. It’s just very important that we’re careful in sharing information about him.”

This was too much. Keira was visibly spiralling in front of Tiana. She needed to intervene…

She didn’t expect her relieved nervous energy to emerge in the form of laughter. Keira was startled by the action before adopting the expression of a wounded puppy.

Tiana fought to fix this misunderstanding, “Keira, I - “

“I said it’s fine if this isn’t for you, Tiana. I just - I didn’t think you’d laugh at me for it…” Keira stated, eyes guarded.

“No!” Tiana shouted, “No. It’s not what you think. I’m sorry for laughing. I was just, relieved. Aaron’s your son? Fucking awesome! I always thought you’d be an awesome parent!” Tiana chuckled nervously. “If he’s got any of your genes, he’s certain to be absolutely adorable!”

Curling her arms around Keira, Tiana kissed the top of her head before continuing, “I’m just relieved that Aaron isn’t a secret lover or ex! I was so scared that I wasn’t enough for you. I was so scared that some shithead was more important to you than me…”

Keira laughed. It was a jolly, high-pitched sound. Tiana basked in the beauty of it. Clutching her lover closer, Keira whispered, “I think you’re the love of my life. I love you so much, and you go out of your way to prove that you love me. Behind Aaron, you are my priority.”

Tiana tilted Keira’s scarred, freckled face up to hers. She captured her lover’s lips in a passionate kiss.

“I’m completely fine with that. I’d love to meet Aaron. I have a feeling he’ll become my number one priority, too, if you’re okay with that?”

Tiana didn’t think it was possible for Keira to smile wider. She laughed as her girlfriend’s nose nuzzled against her own.

“I’m SO okay with that. I’d love you to meet him. Maybe then you’ll understand the hype,” Keira teased.

“I look forward to it,” Tiana replied.

“I love you, Tiana.”

“I love you, too.”

© O.M.A

[olliewrites-stuff]

A Love Older Than the Universe

I first loved you

When the universe was still dark.

Being swaddled infinitely

In the endless womb of existence

Became bearable once you appeared.

We travelled through galaxies

Encased securely in each other’s arms.

When the photons broke free,

Unleashing light and colour

Into the cosmos,

I sewed your favourite shades

Into the sunrise and sunset.

Long after I cease to exist,

These will start and end every day,

Wrapping your waking moments

In the memory of how much I love you.

In the time before oxygen,

I taught myself to inhale

Purely for you to take my breath away.

When our world began,

And oxygen became mundane,

I relearned breathlessness

So you could once more breathe me to life.

In the time before sound,

I serenaded you with a ballad

Played with the silent, sporadic twinkling

Of dying stars.

When life began on our planet,

I taught nature my song.

Long after I'm nothing but

A pleasant memory,

Birds will profess my undying devotion

In tens of thousands of different ways;

The wind will whisper remnants of

Our pillow talks sweetly into your ears;

The rustling of leaves will chuckle

With our inside jokes;

I've left an adoring orchestra

For you,

My dear,

So you are never truly alone.

Loving you is easy.

It has always been easy.

Forever is too short a time

For our souls to intertwine.

Fear did not exist until I first

Thought of losing you.

We come from a time of nothingness;

We come from a time before matter,

But I have spent a thousand lifetimes

Carving our love into

This little planet we call home.

I have carefully woven us into this universe

With invisible thread,

Leaving evidence that we were here;

That we learned;

That we grew;

That we loved.

© O.M.A