a thing i wrote quickly earlier today before my brain completely stopped functioning from the disgusting heat. 900 words.
Oliver is eight years old when he finally meets his parents.
He was starting to think he would be alone forever.
He doesn’t like the children’s home very much. He likes foster homes even less. There’s always too many children and too much noise.
He was abandoned as a baby. No one could trace his birth parents. They named him Oliver and made his surname the name of the home. Midtown. Oliver Midtown. He doesn’t feel like a person, he feels like a place.
He’s never had a friend. Kids his age think he’s weird. Older kids think he’s so weird he needs to be beaten up. Little kids point and stare and sometimes cry when they see him.
Oliver is different.
Imagine your OTP singing “Baby It’s Cold Outside.”
#HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH #HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA #AHAH#AHAHAHAHAHHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHHAHAHAHA#AHAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA#HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA#AHAHHAHAHAAHHAHA #AHA #HA #HAHAHAHA #IM LAUGHING#HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
Don’t get attached to unpopular ships because you will run out of fic and die