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kendsleyauthor · 1 year

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Cliff and Oliver sharing a bed!!

(And Zia if you want 😉💓)

((MORE LIKE Oliver and Zia sharing a bed and the bed is Cliff and they all care deeply and tenderly about each other 😜 Anyway, OT3--))

The Hunter, The Healer, and The Harlot

“I swear, Oliver, if you don’t hold still, I will put you to sleep for a long, long time.” Zia snatched his wrist and spoke through gritted teeth. Pursing her lips, she waved her other fingers over his forearm, gradually knitting the wound shut.

The cut had been unfortunate collateral damage during a dead-end mission. There were no more fairies to be rescued at the warehouse a couple of towns over, but there had been lingering armed guards and a close call. Oliver had slashed himself escaping through a shattered window.

He had haphazardly healed it himself, and Cliff wasted no time in getting him back to the Safehouse—and Zia. She pitched a fit when she saw the poor healing job. Cliff had ushered them to his room since it was closer to the entrance than the healing ward.

“Good to know I’m not your worst patient, Zee.” Cliff rested his head on the pillow, watching the pair of fairies on the nightstand. A soft smile quirked on his lips as they squabbled.

“You’re a close second,” she groused, throwing a narrowed-eyed look at Cliff. “And much harder to hold down.”

“I’m not trying to be difficult, just look what I mean—” Oliver yanked his arm away, eliciting another agonized groan from Zia. “How come when I do it like this, there’s always a scar?” He murmured the healing incantation and waved a hand over the half-healed cut.

“Because you’re doing it wrong!” Zia wailed in distress and buried her face in her hands. She peeked between her fingers. “Cliff. Help. Please help before I strangle him.”

Oliver paused mid-spell to scoff. “Strangle? Sure You’re too sweet to—” The rest was cut off as Cliff sat up halfway and snatched him from the nightstand.

Any resulting protests died when Cliff pinned Oliver gently to his body, just below his chest. The squirms subsided almost immediately. He doubted Oliver would move even if he weren’t pinned on his back.

“There,” Cliff said, flashing a smirk at Zia. “Shuts him up every time.”

“You do this to shut me up?” Oliver said, halfheartedly offended. He hummed. “Never mind. I won’t complain.”

“Seems effective.” Zia cracked a smile at the sight, flitting over. “Turn his arm over.” She nodded as Cliff flicked a finger and presented the back of Oliver’s forearm. “Perfect.”

She practically straddled Cliff’s index and middle fingers to reach the wound—inadvertently leaning over Oliver and sandwiching him between herself and Cliff. Oliver, for his part, contentedly turned his head to rub his cheek against Cliff’s shirt. Then he peeked up at Zia, and Cliff spotted the corner of a dizzy smile on his lips.

“I have something incredibly inappropriate to say,” Oliver announced. He sighed. “But I think I’ll just savor the moment.”

“And we thank you for that.” Zia seemed in much better spirits now that she didn’t have to strangle him.

As she spoke the incantation, Cliff gingerly brushed her side with his thumb to keep her steady in her awkward position. She unabashedly leaned into his touch, and he swore he could feel her breathing slow to match the pace of his steady breaths beneath her.

When she was finished, she flopped over beside Cliff’s hand and gave a heavy sigh.

Cliff chuckled and ran a fingertip across her forehead to swipe her hair out of her eyes. “I think being around Oliver makes you more dramatic,” he said.

Oliver, freed from Cliff’s hand, sat up and touched the healed wound. There was no trace of it other than a faint redness. “You’re incredible, Zee,” he sighed. “You should come with us next time.”

“So that you can comfortably throw yourself at every shard of glass in sight?” Zia laughed wryly. “No thanks.”

He waved her off. “Sharp objects can’t resist me, that’s not my fault. But really, really. The three of us would make such a great team. Think of it! The hunter, the healer, and…” Oliver put a hand on his chest and smiled prettily. “The harlot.”

Zia gave a beautiful whoop of laughter. “They’ll sing songs about us for generations to come.”

“See? It’s a good idea.” Oliver inspected the back of his forearm again and looked slightly less enthused. “You know… this actually would have been a great spot for a scar.”

Cliff delicately grabbed Oliver’s wrist and squinted. “You’re not wrong.”

“Stars.” Zia’s grin dropped into exasperated annoyance, but the aggravation didn’t quite reach the light in her eyes. “I’ve had enough. I’m heading back to the ward.” She stood on Cliff and stretched her arms and wings. “I prescribe you both with bed rest. Goodbye.”

“Oh, please. You know you’re in no mood to fly off.” Oliver stood and was by her side in an instant. “Why don’t you stay?”

Her face flushed. “I couldn’t.”

Cliff felt like a very dramatic play was being enacted on his torso. He cupped a hand beside the pair of them. “You could,” he said. “Plenty of room.” But he wasn’t holding his breath—Zia behaved as though the healing ward was her only source of oxygen.

She bit her lip and looked between them. “I don’t know…”

“Zia, dear.” Oliver took her hand. “You were in the ward before we left, you were in the ward when we arrived, and I’m sure you will be in the ward when Cliff and I meet some embarrassingly stupid death. You’re the best healer in the world, and all we’re asking for is a few moments for you to rest with us. Please.”

The melodramatic dumbass even kissed the back of her hand and clutched it to his chest, hitting her with the most pathetically puppy-eyed look in existence.

She gaped at him a second, and then gave a bemused laugh. “Fine.”

“Are you kidding me?” Cliff sat up a little, making the two fairies lose their footing and slide down a few inches—he dropped a hand to stop them. He pouted at Zia in particular. “I invite you to take a break all the damn time, and he gets a freakin’ yes just like that?”

She shrugged. “He’s very convincing.”

“You were pissed at him just a second ago!”

Oliver threw his arms around Zia’s shoulders, hugging her tightly. “She got over it. Besides, look at me. Who can stay pissed at this face?”

Cliff rolled his eyes.

Zia grinned teasingly. “I can leave if you’re that offended.”

“No,” Cliff said immediately.

He cupped both hands around the fairies and laid back down. After a brief pause to contemplate where to set them, he brought his hands higher and tucked the fairies near his neck.

As he eased the pressure, he smiled faintly at the sensation of them adjusting around each other and settling against him. His eyes fluttered shut at the sound of their hushed laughter and bickering about whose limbs should go where.

When they finally stopped moving, Cliff brushed a thumb down to feel them. He recognized Zia’s pixie cut and the scars on Oliver’s wings.

Cliff let out a slow, contented sigh. He couldn’t keep them safe every second of the day—but here and now, he could shield them from the world behind his hands.

((A/N: Your Honor, I love them.))

#gt #g/t #gt writing #g/t writing #giant tiny #gt community #g/t community #gt fandom #g/t fandom #my writing #shot in the dark #shot in the dark story #dark future au #dark future au story #oc: cliff #oc: zia #oc: oliver

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tuxibirdie · 7 months

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#tuxidoodles #doodle #oc: atlas #oc: charles #oc: levi #oc: cyrus #oc: raiden #oc: jack #oc: oliver #oc: kodi #oc: kai #oc #original character

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just-a-whumping-birb · 4 months

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A New Nightmare

First Bitten Masterpost

Oliver wakes up to find himself stuck in a dirty, cramped cell. What had happened to get him into this mess? And who was the unsettling stranger that had captured him?

TWs: Violence/ threats of violence, choking, imprisonment, pet whump, hypnosis, blood

Oliver awakened in darkness, dazed and confused. He was certain of his wakefulness, given that the handcuffs around his wrists bit into his skin with a chilling cold. That didn’t happen in dreams, or even nightmares. No, Oliver was awake and he was scared. The last thing he remembers is his friend passing out while walking home from that club, then that strange man... Before Oliver could finish his thought, a door creaked open and dim light flooded the room. His accommodations were revealed to be a dank cell with stone walls, a cot in one corner and a dilapidated chair on which he sat, hands cuffed behind him.

Standing in the doorway was that stranger, an absolutely evil smirk on his face. Oliver watches him saunter in with an unreadable expression, unsure how to react. He loomed above Oliver, looking down at the young man with such smugness…

“Welcome home, pup~” Grayson said with a sickly-sweet lilt.

Oliver looked up at the white-haired man, eyes shifting from fearful… to something just short of anger.

“What, precisely, do you think you are doing? And who even are you?!”

“‘What am I doing?’” Grayson chuckles. “I’m welcoming you to your new home. Is that wrong?”

“This is not my home!” Oliver bites out.

“Not your home? But of course it is! This is your very own room, humbly furnished by yours truly~ As to my name…” The man thinks on this for a moment before smiling again. “It’s Grayson. But soon, it will be ‘Master’ to you~”

Now that he’s more aware of his situation, Oliver glares daggers at Grayson, green eyes sharp.

“You will let me go. Now. And what did you do to my friend? Where is he?!”

Grayson’s simpering smile becomes an ugly scowl, his voice dropping to a growl as he grabs Oliver by the throat and shoves him against the stone wall with a crack.

“You won’t speak to your owner like that, pup. Do that again and there will be harsher consequences.”

Oliver gasps as his throat is suddenly constricted, a strangled cry passing from his lips when he’s shoved into the wall.

“Ngh—!* Y-you…! Let go—! *Agh! Let go!”

Grayson does no such thing. Instead, the man squeezes harder, mouth coming close to the other’s ear as he whispers with pure venom.

“Beg.”

Though his vision begins to blacken at the edges due to lack of oxygen, Oliver manages to choke out a few words.

“P-pl-ease—! Ple—ease!”

A few seconds more, and the young man is released, his breathing ragged as he tries to suck in as much air as possible. Grayson watches, that same ugly look on his face.

“Pathetic. And I was hoping you’d be more compliant. It seems I misjudged you, Oliver.”

It’s several moments before he has the strength to speak, but Oliver eventually does.

“H-how…? How do y-you know my… my name?”

“How do I know your name?” Grayson chuckles, huffing out a laugh. “Why, that’s simple; *you told me~”

Oliver flinches.

“I-I didn’t! I don’t even… I don’t even remember much after you…,”

Before he could finish, Oliver is blindsided by a hand firmly grasping his hair and pulling. He shrieks, nowhere near accustomed to being manhandled so harshly.

“Silly, silly pup. You will put your past behind you, for you are mine from now on~ And remembering such useless information will result in punishment. This is your first strike. How many shall we make it before I cut off a finger, hm? I do like to keep my toys intact, but I won’t suffer such disrespect.”

Much to Oliver’s dismay, he finds himself nodding, just wanting the pain to stop. Although those hands tug and grasp at his hair for several more seconds, Grayson eventually releases the other’s mousy locks.

“Was that so hard? Did it hurt to listen, pup? No, so long as you listen, you’ll be just fine…”

Oliver remains silent, looking away from his tormentor. Tears streak down his cheeks, and Grayson gently wipes them away, much to Oliver’s surprise.

“Shhh… Look at me.”

Although he doesn’t want to, there isn’t much of a choice as Grayson tilts his head up. Green eyes gaze into gold as the man speaks with a voice softer than cotton.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Oliver. But I will if you don’t listen.”

Again, silence. Irritated, Grayson’s sharp nails bite into the other’s chin as his eyes sharpen.

“Tell me you’ll be good.”

Oliver cringes as thin streams of blood run down his chin, as Grayson coos threats at him.

“If you don’t comply, I’ll make you. And you don’t want it to come to that.”

He’s shivering now, torn between agreeing to listen and staying defiant. Unfortunately, his pause was too long for Grayson.

“Force it is, then.”

Preparing himself for the worst, Oliver’s body tenses up… before melting into pure relaxation. Grayson’s eyes were puddles of molten gold, shifting to create metallic patterns that disappeared far too quickly. He couldn’t look away, didn’t want to look away… They were just too beautiful. He found his jaw becoming slack, but that was fine. Why couldn’t he relax before, anyway?

Grayson’s smile is positively wicked as he watches Oliver fall under his sway. He’d surely listen now…

“Oh, Oliver… Your eyes look so much nicer in gold.”

The young man nods, face blank and eyes shimmering.

“You’ll be good for me now, won’t you? I can do this as many times as I need to before you remain a good little puppy. Until then, why don’t we start your… induction.”

#Birb writes #OCs #OC: Oliver #OC: Grayson #whump #vampire #whumper #whumpee #tw violence #tw threats of violence #tw blood #tw imprison #tw hypnosis #tw choking #tw pet whump

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shriggy-the-rat-king · 4 months

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Had lot of fun drawing my OC (Oliver, he/they), and my friend ChaoticV's OC (Vee, she/her). I know it's silly to make Smosh OCs but we don't care, we are having the time of our lives in our little made up world 🥰

Some OC facts under the cut.

Vee's been with Smosh since the early days of the cast being expanded. She's dating Damien.

Oliver is an editor for Smosh Games and joined in 2021. He's dating Spencer.

They are both bisexual.

#my ocs #artists on tumblr #smosh #smosh oc #reader insert #yes i also wrote a fic with them! i might write more #oc: Oliver #oc: Vee #not my oc #friend's oc

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gtzel · 4 months

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Sneak peek at what’s coming this February for The Boy in the Walls webcomic. Be sure to check it out if you haven’t already.

#gt story #gt movie #we gt #holiday gt #gt tips #gt talks #gt special #gt webcomic #gt comic #gt ideas #gt meme #gt #gianttiny #giant men #i love giants #gentle giant #oc: oliver #ocs #gt oc #tbitw

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hibernationsuit · 5 months

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micro story: 4 and or 24 :)

one chance & tender

Some father & son bonding?? wow. Accidentally meeting your father in a hospital was not on Tobias's bingo card for the year 2285 yet here we are. He's also very scared of ruining everything by talking too much. Have something little this prompt inspired me to write 🥺

---

"Why stay Earthbound, when prosperity awaits you in the stars," Oliver placed the brochure back to the coffee table and chuckled, "What an ad."

"It actually says that?"

"On the first page. You haven't read it? Surely you're supposed to?"

I looked at the paper. The smiling faces of the drawn colonists, all happy.

Too happy.

"I don't know, really." I tried to reach for the brochure but gave up, slightly wincing at the pain in my shoulder getting stronger. It's been almost two weeks yet the wound was still tender like hell, annoying me every time I tried to move my right hand.

Oliver offered to give it to me, but I shook my head. Just looking at it made me anxious. "I doubt it has anything interesting, or any actual details of what it's like, you know. I mean, the Groundbreaker arrived only a few weeks ago. No way they're looking like that or-" I stopped, realizing I am once again talking a lot. "Sorry." It felt weird to talk to Oliver. Sometimes he'd be very quiet, as if he's scared to talk. Or as if he doesn't really want to be here.

Is he only trying to act like he enjoys being here? Or does he actually enjoy it?

Klara's mothers talk together all the time, a lot. It's like they can barely stand the silence. Oliver, on the other hand? He also seems like he'd love to talk, but hasn't been able to and thus prefers to be quiet now. 'Just like you when you're stressed or when you feel out of place,' Klara once said.

He's also nothing like my mother or stepfather, that's for sure. Yet no matter what I could still notice myself being more cautious than usually.

I realized he was up again, looking at me. "Uh, sorry, got lost in my thoughts. Did you say something?"

"I was saying that you should stop apologizing, you have nothing to apologize for," he said, "and also, you can take your paracetamol." He gave me the pill bottle. "Nice to see you finally managed to learn how to swallow them..."

I must've looked very confused after he said the last part, that he thought that he should explain what it meant. Frankly, I was confused, but did not want to scare him like that. "You got a really bad flu when you were six. Your mother tried to give you a pill to treat your fever, but you just couldn't swallow it. I had to go get a syrup instead," Oliver smiled a bit at the memory, then looked back at me. "Funny, and now I'm here again helping you heal. Could've picked a fever again instead of getting shot, you know."

"Wouldn't have met you, then," I mumbled. All my emotions seemed to have turned into a ball to feel like they're stuck in my throat. "I don't remember being sick, to be honest."

"I don't think you felt well enough to remember anything at that point..."

We sat in silence for a while, only the sounds of the television as a background noise. Tossball, surprisingly. Never thought I'd be watching that awful sport in my apartment. Then again, I never thought I'd get shot, either. Or see my dad again.

"I really missed you," I said, "I don't think I've had a day go by without a thought about you. Always dreaming of some one chance I could have to meet you again."

He looked at me for a moment, nodded, and smiled. "I can say the same thing about you."

#my writing #my ocs #oc: tobias #oc: oliver

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tabswrites · 2 months

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OC Two Truths and a Lie

Tagged by @mysticstarlightduck here!

Gently tagging: @calamityeden @sunset-a-story @rachaellawrites @megannabell @mister-writes

Hmmm I think the only one I haven’t done is Oliver, so…

#had to make this one weird bc of who it’s for #wip: tomb of light #two truths and a lie #tag games #oc: oliver

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creepymarshmallow3 · 9 months

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Ask 1: If Sam can stop Raven from nightmares, than surely he can "give" Leroy nightmares(probably about Noodle/snakes lol, he hates and is terrified of them)

Ask 2: Sooo, I'm photographer...don't such up what simp means...*he probably about to and realize my list lmao-*

Ask 3: So what if Roger had Springy,sharpy and Sweetie I'm his gameshow (he would be on a big TV) and it was mostly a deadly game or something and if Sweetie seamed to be in danger(when he wasn't) I'm sure Sharpy would NOT be happy and Roger would worry lol.

Ask 4: Emmet meets Oliver lol, both "I hate everyone" argue of "who had it worst" lol

Ask 5: Becky meets Trollen, Trollen might try to manipulate him to kill him cause "Hates Trollges"

( phew) I'm here^^ )

Ask 1: press F for Leroy's sleep

Ask 2: Pfffff! Confused Photographer :>

Ask 3:

(Uh oh...)

Ask 4: (in reblog)

#trollge #trollge incidents #ask omg #oc: simia #oc: springy #oc: sharp #oc: sweety #oc: emmet #oc: photographer #oc: sam #oc: becky #not my oc #oc: leroy #oc: roger #oc: noodle #oc: oliver #oc: trollen

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kendsleyauthor · 1 year

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Eleven Hours: Part One

Dark Future AU (Shot in the Dark)

~4000 words

Warnings: Captivity, dehumanization, general peril

Summary: After nearly a year of living as a captive fairy in a menagerie, Oliver is finally on the brink of escape. However, a betrayal leads to a drastic change of plans. As he struggles to find safety, he encounters Cliff and must decide whether or not to put his life in the hands of a human.

Co-written by the lovely @marydublinauthor 🌸

🌿 Eleven Hours Masterpost 🌿

Winter had fully set in. It had been drizzling on and off all week, which made the night air all the more biting. And yet, Oliver couldn’t keep the grin off his face. It was the same grin his siblings had once referred to as that idiotic smile you get right before you’re about to do something fucking stupid.

He pushed that thought aside. Better not to think about his siblings.

There had been very little reason to smile for the better part of a year. But finally, finally, things were about to change. He was getting out. He had suffered his last day at the menagerie. No more glass case. No more gigantic stares gawking at him for merely existing.

Oh, you love the attention, his sister’s voice teased at the back of his mind. He blinked hard. Don’t think about them.

“Not as much as you love to be a catty bitch,” he told the air anyway.

“What did you say?” one of the other fairies asked behind him.

Oliver tore his eyes away from the opening of the tent flap to glance behind him. “Not you. Talking to my sister.” The fairy frowned and tried to look past him, but Oliver shrugged matter-of-factly. “Oh, she’s not here. She’s super dead.”

“Ah. Right.”

He was left alone after that, for some reason.

Peeking further out of the tent, Oliver searched for any sign of movement. The menagerie grounds were strewn with trash. The animals had been locked up for the night in their own tents and cages. Almost all of the staff and management were in town for the night while Grady was left behind to keep an eye on things.

Grady, the only human who was decent. The only one who was willing to risk everything to get them to freedom. He had played his part well that day, grumbling about the nightwatch duty to his coworkers. It was all going according to plan.

Tonight was the night he would finally help the fairies get far, far away from this place.

None of them were caged tonight, but Grady told them to stay inside the tent in case another worker showed up unexpectedly. Plus, it would keep them all together and ensure that no one was left behind.

Grady had gone out to keep an eye out for Cliff, the person who was supposed to take them to a safe house for fairies. Oliver had heard whispers about it before, but it never seemed real until now. However, Oliver didn’t find himself as thrilled as he should have been about it. He inched halfway out of the tent, debating with himself.

He didn’t know this Cliff person. Didn’t know exactly where they were going.

But he did know Grady. And Grady had been a light in the darkness ever since he came to work at the menagerie.

Oliver stopped overthinking it and slipped out of the fairy display tent. Maybe it was a stupid thought, but he wondered if it would be at all possible to stay with Grady instead. If not… It would at least be nice to talk to him one more time before this supposed hero came along and ferried them all to safety.

With some of the lights still up, it didn’t take long for Oliver to spot him near one of the food trucks at the edge of the grounds. He was talking on his phone. His shoulders were rigid. As Oliver flew closer, it sounded like Grady’s tone had a razor-sharp bite.

Too curious to interrupt, Oliver slowed his wings and landed on the ground so his buzz wouldn’t be heard. He hid behind one of the truck’s tires and listened. He clenched his jaw, worried that the arrangement with Cliff had fallen through.

“All I’m saying is that I better get what I’m owed,” Grady huffed into his phone. “I was promised double what Everett was offering. Now you’re telling me I’m not getting the full payout at once?”

Oliver clamped a hand over his mouth, his insides twisting.

Everett. Cliff Everett. If he wasn’t coming for them anymore, then who was?

If it weren’t for the unfamiliar, frightening edge to Grady’s voice, Oliver might have flown right out and demanded to know what was going on. But something was wrong. Anyone who was insisting on paying more to get their hands on an abused group of fairies probably didn’t have hot meals and soft beds in mind.

“We can discuss it more right now,” Grady sighed. “I see your headlights.”

Sure enough, the rumbles of engines and the glow of high beams became apparent from a distance.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Oliver muttered, pressing his back against the truck tire.

He needed to keep listening, but flying was not an option. His wings would easily be heard, and he’d spotted, and Grady likely still had fairy containment gear on him. Oliver wouldn’t be able to keep up by running, but Grady wasn’t on the move yet.

Without stopping to think twice, Oliver bolted out from under the truck and approached the massive boots. In hindsight, he was lucky not to get crushed then and there. But the stars or ancient magics apparently wanted him to live long enough to regret his decision.

He gave one soundless flap of his wings—just enough to carry him high enough to grab the crisscross of laces near the top of Grady’s boot.

It wasn’t so bad at first when Grady wasn’t moving. There was only the simple, crippling fear of the giant looking down at just the right angle and spotting his passenger. But luckily, the lights didn’t seem to reach all the way to the ground, and Oliver’s clothes weren’t bright.

The boot shifted, almost making him slip immediately. He grabbed hold of the laces, able to hear his bother’s deadpan in his mind—How the fuck have you managed to live this long?—just before the world began to swing nauseatingly. Grady was on the move. Each pause before his boot swung forward again offered little reprieve, other than giving Oliver a split second to tighten his grip and swallow his screams.

In the dizzying ride, he was able to make out several massive trucks arriving. More humans got out of the vehicles than Oliver could keep track of from this angle. It was abundantly clear that Grady had royally screwed him and the other fairies over, but Oliver was too petrified and sick to even consider trying to fight them all off.

“About the payment—” Grady started to say, pausing his walk for a blessed moment.

“Save it,” another human said. “You can collect once the inventory’s accounted for.”

Inventory. How fucking rude.

“Fine,” Grady muttered. “They’re docile right now. They still think Everett’s coming for them, so they’re loose in the tent. Didn’t want to risk them getting suspicious by keeping them caged.”

“How many canisters should we take?” another voice from one of the trucks asked.

“There’s a dozen units,” the first one said. “Three canisters should be more than enough.”

Units. Even the menagerie workers had the base-level decency to refer to them as fairies. Even occasionally as talent.

Oliver dared to peek up toward the newcomers and wished he hadn’t. They were decked out in gear that would likely shield them from any attack he could throw their way. The typical menagerie worker’s getup was laughable by comparison. But he was most focused on the canisters that were mentioned.

Iron smoke, contained for time being. One breath of that, and Oliver wouldn’t be able to make so much as a spark for hours.

With that, Grady took up his stride again. Each thump made Oliver feel like he might lose his grip, but he managed to stay somewhat alert to his blurred surroundings. They were heading for the tent. If he stayed on Grady’s boot, he was sure to be found before long. If he tried to retaliate or try to warn the others, he’d be taken down in an instant.

He was the only one with a shot of making it out.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed.

When Grady stepped close enough to the unkempt grass near the edge of the path, Oliver threw himself off. He rolled to a stop, cold mud smearing his arms. He ducked down among the vegetation and held his breath. The ground trembled with the humans’ retreating footsteps.

The moment he was sure their backs were to him, he started running.

The tent flap fluttered open.

Oliver began flying. Screams and shouts fell into the distance as his fellow captives were overwhelmed with iron smoke in mere seconds. He forced himself not to look back. If he did, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from going back, from trying—

But Grady was sure to notice he was gone. A search would begin. He had to keep going. Oliver flew for the surrounding woods, vehemently telling himself over and over that there was nothing he could have done. Over the roar of wind in his ears, Oliver swore he heard one of the fairies begging Grady by name to save them. He couldn’t stop himself from looking back over his shoulder toward the tents. Furious tears flooded his vision.

And then he slammed into a branch.

The branch had caught him by his stomach, knocking the breath from his lungs. Pain shot through the middle of his right wing, and Oliver shrieked into the woods. He looked up in terror to find iron mesh pinned into the trees. He had heard about this security measure from the menagerie workers who came and went over the months, but it had always been difficult to discern when they were telling the truth and when they were simply trying to intimidate them.

He was lucky his wing had only grazed through one of the larger holes—if he had slammed directly into the iron, he might’ve passed out and plummeted to a very awkward and unimpressive death. As it was, his wing was still aching hard enough that staying in the air was too painful. Oliver angled himself towards the ground to land, grunting at every leaf that slapped him on the way down.

“Haven’t even made it past the boundary, and you’ve mortally wounded yourself,” Oliver growled under his breath. He fanned his wings and conjured a faint bit of illumination in his palm. The iron exhaustion still had a hold on him, but he mustered enough light to see the inflamed veins on the gauzy appendage. He had to tear his gaze away from the stomach-churning sight.

Okay, so he wasn’t mortally wounded, but it was gross. And it fucking hurt.

Up the hill, vehicle doors slammed. He had to keep moving—even on foot.

As he stumbled in the dark over the rocky, root-riddled terrain, Oliver quickly remembered how much he hated the ground. When flying was an option, walking long distances on foot seemed like a primitive, wasteful thing. It felt so human. The soil was soft from rain and kept sucking at his boots, slowing his stride. Crickets kept snapping from spot to spot in the grassy nooks between trees. Pebbles and bark, slick with condensation, threatened to bring him staggering to his knees.

But maybe tonight, this was for the best, anyway. Oliver craned his neck towards the vast canopy of branches overhead. It was impossible to tell where the menagerie had installed the random panels of iron netting to trap would-be escapees. It was safer to avoid the chance of flying into another mesh. At least until he was further from the boundaries.

More annoying--but safer.

Somewhere further along the treeline, there were human footsteps. The kind that were clearly urgent, but trying to be quiet. Already looking for him. They’d be searching the branches, the iron netting, anything but the ground, he assured himself.

He couldn’t stop, couldn’t risk himself being cornered.

Before long, a different sound reached his ears. It didn’t sound anything like humans, so he hurried toward it, knees already aching from the strain of having to pull himself through the mud.

The noise turned out to be a swift, gurgling creek running through the woods. The current was angled in the direction he was headed—finally, some luck. Anything to keep moving forward without having to walk so damn much.

A few scraps of bark lay near the roots of a tree. He grabbed a piece big enough to carry him and dragged it to the bank of the creek. As he pushed it into the water and clambered on, the water rushed over his boots and hands. He hissed. This creek would have been pretty in the day, maybe. And marginally warmer. But right now, it looked like an inky black ribbon that would rush him further into the unknown.

Better than going back.

As it turned out, the water didn’t give him the reprieve he craved. Of course it didn’t. Nothing can be fucking easy. He had to stay on hands and knees for any sort of balance, which made the freezing water lap at him as it carried him off.

For a while, it was manageable. His hands became numb enough to deal with the sting. Even the pain in his wing started to wane as the iron’s effects lessened.

Oliver knew he was in trouble when he felt the first real dip of the current. It plunged the bark down and back up so swiftly that he was drenched almost entirely. He crouched, digging his fingers into the wood in a pathetic attempt to keep his plan from falling apart. Then that one dip turned into several, and the current began to rush faster.

And then, no amount of holding on could help. The bark overturned completely and threw him off. Shock took hold of his limbs. For a few terrible moments, all he felt was a mind-numbing sting. In his panic, he drew in a lungful of water. That finally jerked a reaction from him. He kicked and flailed until his legs finally found the creek’s bank.

Coughing and sputtering, he clawed himself onto freezing cold mud. In his desperation to get away from the water, he managed to get his clothes, hair, and—worst of all—his wings completely coated in mud. He gagged out the water in his throat, and once he was sure he wasn’t going to choke, he rolled onto his back and stared up at the trees, chest heaving.

“This is all because I didn’t go back to help them, isn’t it?” Oliver asked the stars he couldn’t see.

No, his brother said, appearing beside him. It’s because you thought it’d be a good idea to go rafting.

His sister was on his other side. Or maybe if you’d kept your eyes forward, you wouldn’t have hit that branch, dumbass.

Oliver sighed. “You guys are the best. Go away.”

Slowly, he pushed himself up to sit. The cold was bone-deep. He was surprised his limbs didn’t crackle with ice when he moved them.

If he stayed here, he’d freeze to death. If he moved forward… he could still freeze to death. Or maybe find death in some other, more exciting way.

He forced himself to his feet, nearly slipping into the mud all over again. Hugging himself, he glared at the rush of the creek. “Thanks for the ride. But also, fuck you.” He moved to find drier ground.

Oliver scraped mud off his face and arms as he pressed on, which seemed to exist in an unending supply. He was climbing over a rock covered in slimy gray moss when something rustled in the trees above. A bone-chilling hoot accompanied a single, heavy flap of wings.

Oliver seized up, pressing his back against the sediment. His sharp, terrified breaths were deafening as he leaned out to peer skyward.

Nothing.

He waited five minutes before scrambling over the rock and making his way to the next. This time, he caught the flicker of a mighty wingspan against the overcast sky.

Of course, he would have an owl stalking him tonight.

He clenched his fists as he lay back into hiding. The urge to fry the wicked fowl with a pointed spell was mocked by the remnants of the iron fatigue. Just running was wearing him more than it should. It would be some time before he could conjure any useful magic.

Waiting it out was awful—hearing every evil hoot and shift of the predator from branch to branch as it looked for him, hoping for an easy meal. Sitting still made the cold sharpen in Oliver’s joints. Rubbing his arms and legs seemed to do nothing; he couldn’t stop shivering.

He was starting to worry the clatter of his teeth might draw the owl’s attention, but its patience had a limit. Oliver heard it move towards a small rodent skittering around and wasted no time in launching back onto the path forward. He sprinted to put as much distance between them as possible, lungs burning and aching and begging him to stop. But he didn’t, not until the hoots were only a nightmarish echo behind him.

He was owed a stroke of good luck—but apparently, not yet. Gnats hovered over the moist ground in patches now, particularly near the best climbing spots where tree roots dipped under the rocky soil. They nipped at every inch of exposed skin, seeming to swarm to the mud.

Oliver almost wished he’d been an animal talent, fantasizing about commanding the owl to eat the aggressive fuckers out of his hands.

“If I had my magic,” he panted, punching blindly at a cluster of them. “I’d turn all of you into ash, do you hear me? Ash!”

The compounded grief and discomfort and pain and sheer this is fucking unfair, why me had Oliver rocking where he stood. Tears welled up in his eyes as he caught his pathetic breath and considered curling up by the next family of gnats and just letting them have at him. What was the point of freedom when it was impossible to survive?

It felt like it had been hours, but truthfully, Oliver had no way to tell how long had passed since entering the woods.

A pair of oily grasshoppers hopped onto the horizon. Oliver watched them approach fungi growing at the foot of the tree, nibbling at it. The other hopped close to indulge in one of the infinitesimal flies passing through. As though it had enjoyed the taste of blood, its attention moved to Oliver.

Fuck me, he thought wearily.

But suddenly, the entire forest floor shivered and the gathering of insects scattered in a panic.

An irregular quake continued to travel through the soil, growing stronger as he dared to walk forward. It was a clumsy rhythm—but much bigger than an owl.

Human footsteps.

A laugh threatened to burst out of Oliver, so he covered his mouth. Still, his chest heaved with the trapped sound. Of course. Of course there was a human just when he was ready to lay down and die.

Retreating into the nearby foliage, he took shelter among a nest of roots. Thankfully, the insects had moved further away and didn’t bother him in his hiding place either. If he had to choose between murderous grasshoppers or a human, he wasn’t quite sure where he’d land. He supposed it depended on how murderous the human was.

Holding his breath, Oliver peeked to catch a glimpse of the human. He reared back when those massive footsteps trailed closer than he expected. They paced away, but not very far.

There were black boots, dark jeans. This human seemed to be alone. He turned enough for Oliver to see part of his face in the darkness. He was cloaked in a leather jacket and had dark blond hair. Oliver caught sight of a strong jawline covered in short facial hair before the human turned away again.

“What are you up to?” Oliver murmured.

The human was peering through the scope of a weapon as if trying to get a read on the surrounding area. Oliver immediately pulled back into cover, his heart jumping. This could be one of the humans who stormed the menagerie. But… that didn't feel quite right. Oliver’s speed may have been pitiful on the journey so far, but he was sure he would have noticed if a human managed to get ahead of him.

Another peek gave him a glimpse of a car hidden in the shrubs nearby. It didn’t look like the ones that had pulled up to the menagerie, though. It seemed as if this human had been stationed here much longer than Oliver had been on the run. And he seemed to be spying in the direction of the menagerie.

Cliff Everett?

Relief threatened to send him stumbling out into the open immediately, but Oliver kept it at bay. He thought he could trust Grady—he’d known him for months. For all Oliver knew, Cliff was just as bad as the others. If this even was Cliff. The rescue could have been a lie from the start. The safe house could be a lie.

Weary, Oliver sank to the ground as he thought hard.

“He has to have food,” he whispered. “I could steal it. It’d be like crumbs to him, wouldn’t it?”

His brother scoffed. And how do you plan to get over there with your wings like that?

True. The mud caked on his wings had dried in several layers. And even if he did manage to grab as much food as he could carry, then what? He was already worn to the bone. The winter was unforgiving, and spring was a distant dream. He’d never make it. If he turned tail now, the next owl he came upon might be more patient than the last.

Even if this human planned to keep him captive… it would mean getting to stay alive. Humans wanted live fairies, after all. Unless they were scientists. And this one certainly didn’t look the part. The menagerie types wanted to make money off of fairies, and that meant keeping them fed and safe enough to be ogled.

A breeze danced through the woods and filtered through the roots, making him shiver harder.

He’d escaped once. That meant it wasn’t impossible to do it again.

Swallowing hard, Oliver grabbed onto a root and used it to pull himself to stand. His arms and legs shook from the effort. He shuffled out into the open and approached the human in the small clearing. He expected to be spotted right away, but the human was so focused on scanning the woods, Oliver went unnoticed.

“If you’re hunting for me, you’re doing a really shitty job of it,” Oliver breathed. “I’m right here.”

But the human didn’t seem to hear him.

He cleared his throat. “H-hey. Please tell me you’re not a total asshole. That would kinda ruin my beautiful night.” He couldn’t seem to make his voice any louder than a whisper now that he was exposed.

Then the human started moving toward him, and he thought that finally he had been heard. But the boots weren’t stopping. Oliver found his legs unresponsive. Until that night, he’d never had to look at humans from the ground. And his experience with Grady left him entirely frozen. It didn’t seem real, those monstrous strides carrying the unknown human closer and closer—

At the last moment, Oliver jolted back.

The boot came crashing down an inch from him, pushing up the soil as if the earth itself was casually coming apart.

Oliver wasn’t aware he was screaming until the human gave a startled grunt and recoiled from him. Falling quiet, Oliver breathed heavily and stared hard at the spot where the boot had been. The sight of tread’s deadly imprint would have made him puke if he wasn’t starved.

“What the hell are you doing down there?” the human thundered. “Don’t fucking sneak up on me like that! I could’ve killed you!”

((Author’s note: Poor Oliver’s so exhausted and it’s only the first part :’) Poor guy. But his luck may be about to change!))

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