# EXGR4TIA : ICARUS IS NOT A TEE SHIRT OR A SWAN SONG, NO ━━━━ HE IS BORN AGAIN AND IT'S NOT EASY BEING ME. BUT I CAN'T PROMISE I WILL MEND OR BEND. WHEN YOU BELIEVE THAT WE ARE FIXED NOW FROM OUR BIRTH, AND I'VE JUST FALLEN BACK TO EARTH. ( ... ) OLIVER THORNE, ADAPTED FOR MALLRATSRP.
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val let out a dry snort - leave it to oliver to turn a casual threat of workplace injury into courtroom strategy. "i'd love to see the footage once it's pulled for evidence, your honor." val was more interested in providing ambient noise than actually completing the required tasks of the night, but she had a stubborn habit of lingering loitering. "you need to stop studying during the summer, ollie, you sound like a narc." val said, with no real bite behind her tone. she picked up a box and looked up into a corner of the room, following the line of vision of one of the security cameras. "that's because we are being watched..." she placed the box back down in the exact pocket of shadow alongside the skee-ball ramp, where the lens could never tilt low enough to see. "unless you know the blind spots." val leaned her shoulder against the mesh of the skee-ball cage, her eyes shifting from the camera back to him.
his bottom lip jutted out. oliver supposed that val was right, in a way — he exhausted himself in the summer months reading his textbooks front to back, back to front, and every angle in between, and now he couldn’t even go a full shift without crossing the border into lawyer mode. “sometimes i forget i’m not being graded on all this,” it was an attempt to brush off the tangent, to assure val that all their efforts had not been in vain. it was a process, to build oliver a hardened exterior so he could stick up to the colleagues that always landed him on later shifts, to stand his ground and stop himself being walked all over. in some ways it was working. in others he knew he was falling behind. it was then that ollie hesitated, glanced from the assistant manager to the flickering screen, his mouth opening and closing like a fish on land. “i … no, i don’t. do you ? ”
maverick chuckles, low and deep in the back of his throat. it was always nice seeing people actually enjoy food; he'd have to find remy, drag them over for some dinner and then hide them away so they'd actually pig out. actually, maybe he should just grab enough for them both. "no worries, man. looks like there's plenty enough for everybody." the paper plates are just as flimsy as he might have expected; he stacks two or five upon his palm, loading them up with slice after slice. with five piled high, he offers a toothy grin. "and it would take a real sucker to turn down free food, right?"
oliver couldn’t help but eye the growing stack. it was like maverick was the protagonist in his very own video game — seeing how tall he could tower them, a point for every slice. “we’ll be eating pizzas for days,” was his measured response, before tilting his head and asking, “that all for you ? no judgement, man, i just don’t know where you put it all.” but it had struck an idea in his mind, that if he took more than he needed he could spread out the offerings over multiple days. if he didn’t have to pay for lunch, it would give him at least the slightest reprieve. “maybe they’re trying to fatten us up so we never leave.”
remy frankly couldn't figure out why they deemed it worthwhile to hang around the mall when they didn't have to be there in the first place. but they were here regardless.
"i feel like i've explored every inch of this damn mall," they sighed, casting a sideways look at their companion. "are we sure this isn't some psych experiment?"
“it’s endless, right ? ” oliver knew the feeling. his entire life, it seemed, was a stretch of winding corridors and blind pathways, and the only choice he had was to just keep on going. what choice did he have ? otherwise he would have had to admit that he hated the trajectory, that so often he wanted to grab the wheel and swerve away from it. a lawyer. what had he been thinking. instead of bothering remy with such banality, he shoved his hands in his pockets and puffed out a breath. “that’s why i like the arcade. a thousand different places, a thousand different stories. all you need to do is just tap a button.”
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"Aigh't, I'll keep the love out of the slices - but no guarantees it won't be found anywhere else." He warned. His eyes lit up when Oliver shared the claw machine tip. "Yo, thanks man! I'm so tired of looking like an idiot when I'm trying to impress someone...hey, if that doesn't work, though - can I like, sue you?" He teased, punching the other man's shoulder lightly.
"Anyway," He said, his tone shifting to one a little more serious. "I didn't get a chance to tell you. I got promoted! I'm assistant manager now...desperation makes people do funny things, huh? How was your semester?"
oliver smiled weakly. he couldn’t even get through the first day of a new summer without not one, but two threats to sue ; was that what his life was going to be, from the moment of his graduation ? just how doctor’s were condemned to forever look at their friend’s strange rashes or moles, or to listen intently to reams of symptoms that were, in actual fact, totally normal. “i don’t even think i could build you a workable case on that, buddy,” retorted the attendant, clutching the crust of his slice so that the push didn’t knock it cleanly from his hand.
and at the news, his brows raised. he half expected nathan to announce that he was getting married or something equally as crazy. “no shit ? ” his smile grew into something genuine, something unshakable. “king of pizza, eh ? sounds like you know what you’re doing.” but then it faltered again. “ah, y’know,” a nothing response, “what about yours ? ”
It was approaching midnight, and Pixel Palace was currently a ghost town of blinking neon lights and half-opened boxes of prize counter toys. Val was sitting cross-legged on top of the prize counter, eyeliner smudged from a rub of her wrist. She had managed to get through most of the required inventory by guesstimating and was now actively avoiding unpacking the rest of the junk counter prizes.
Val picked up the walkie talkie and pressed down on the talk button. "To whoever is currently hanging string lights near the main walkway: that ladder looks structurally unsound, and if you fall, I'm taking a picture before thinking about calling for any help. Carry on."
She tossed the radio onto the counter, waiting to see who would brave the dim arcade aisles to complain about her attitude.
often, the late - night shifts were oliver's and oliver's alone. he was always the first employee to sacrifice himself, lamb to the slaughter, if his colleagues needed to finish early, to get away quick for a hot date. the law student himself couldn't remember the last time he had a hot date, or any date at all for that matter, and so the ghostly clattering of stray pinballs and the whirr of aging machines was usually the only noise to keep him from losing sanity entirely. that night, though, val had lingered, and he chuckled at the crackle of the walkie talkie. “it's like people are angling for a lawsuit. claimants forget about the little invention known as the security camera. i don't think anyone would be able to defend them if they fell.” lawful jargon, something that oliver filled his mind with whenever the arcade was empty or on those long and lonely late shifts. he just hoped he could retain it all for when he returned next year. “that's the thing about this place, isn't it ? you always feel like you're being watched.”
"you're kidding, right?" aisha asked with a brow raised and hand on her hip, standing back to take in their decorating skills. while she technically admonished her pseudo-coworker, it came out in her signature teasing tone. "i've never seen something so crooked. you need serious help." she stepped forward, gesturing for them to pass the poster in their hands.
maybe his father had been right, and that too many video games had turned oliver's eyes to squares. he wondered if that was something glasses could fix ; maybe, then, those at law school would take him seriously and stop mistaking him for a cast-off of some frosted - tip boyband. “you're right,” he immediately surrendered and allowed for aisha to take control, “i really don't know why i was roped into doing this in the first place. i'm not even tall.”
"The sausage, the pepperoni, hell they even show me how to make the Hawaiian, and we barely even sell that," He shook his head, punctuating the sentence with a laugh; it was his signature, his tag. If you could hear laughter, it was safe to assume Nate was somewhere nearby.
A grin appeared on his face when Ollie leaned in. He was going to miss working night shifts with him. When they first met, Nathan thought he'd be some stuffy lawyer man that was too good for the mall - but, he was pretty down to Earth and always willing to vent about work & expectations. "The secret is...love," he said. "but I'll tell you the ingredients if you tell me how to win a claw machine."
he had heard it all before, that oliver didn't look as though he would want to be a lawyer, that those around him couldn't imagine a funny wig on his head, gavel in hand. but as was the way of life. if he had chosen his own major perhaps he would be studying literature, or art, or something a little more creative. instead he was knee - deep in books that would cause a concussion if thrown at him, wading through eye - watering bills after visiting the campus shop. “keep your love away from my slice, man,” a chuckle matched nathan's, and he swallowed down another cheesy mouthful. “sounds like a health code violation waiting to happen.” there were plenty of tips and tricks he had picked up over the years. ollie thought for a moment, chewing on the inside of his lip. “you need to use it more like a rake rather than a grabber. to try and drag the toys into the bin.”
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The free pizza wasn't much of a perk for Nathan. Every shift included more free pizza than he should ever eat in a day between the complimentary meals & mistakes, but still, it would be a long night, and he needed to eat. He also needed to reserve his resources - the numbers for his next semester & new (used) car swirled in his head. Five thousand dollars.
"Thanks Oliver," He said, grabbing a slice haphazardly; cheese dripping & grease coating his hand. "Though you would think with the extra budget, they could have sprung for a couple burgers from Grill Stop for the poor staff who work at Slice House." He took a bite, but while chewing added "Somehow eating the pizza I slaved & sweated over doesn't seem like too much of a perk...but damn, I did good, huh?"
his and nathan's friendship was punctuated by the smell of pizza grease and melting cheese, but that didn't make it any less real. he relaxed, then, at the realization he was in good company, his eyes crinkling in the corners as he continued to indulge. “i can imagine you're sick of it,” oliver chuckled, “knowing how the sausage gets made, and all that. it's like how, once i learned how rigged the claw machines are, i never touch the things.” unless he was trying to impress someone, of course, but he couldn't remember the last time he had anybody to woo. “it's a pretty damn good slice though, man. i'd be proud if it were me behind it. what's the secret, hm ? ” ollie leaned, conspiratorially, closer, “promise i won't tell.”
free pizza was an automatic way to get oliver thorne to attend ... well ... anywhere. he reminded himself to eat as much as he could reasonably get away with, to stow a couple of slices away if there were any leftover at the end. a couple of dollars saved here and there could be the difference between an empty belly and his latest required reading. three mouthfuls deep in pepperoni he turned, wide - eyed, mumbling his apologies, side - stepping out the way of the array. “no, no — you go ahead. they totally upped the budget from last year.”
❛ [ ☼ ] : ( finn bennett , cis man , he / him ) omg … was that TRUMAN BURBANK i just saw clocking in ?! no ?? oh, i guess it was just OLIVER THORNE then. they’re THE NICE GUY i was telling you about … you know, the 26 year old SECOND YEAR, who’s been away studying LAW at THE UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO ? word around town is they’re back home for what’s apparently their SECOND summer working at sunset plaza — not counting the one where HE WAS ALMOST FIRED FOR SPENDING HOURS PLAYING ‘ TIME CRISIS II ’ WHEN HE SHOULD’VE BEEN ON THE CLOCK. this time around, they’re working as a MACHINE ATTENDANT AT PIXEL PALACE while trying to save up some extra cash for HIS BOOKS AND EXTORTIONATE STUDY FEES, but you didn’t hear that from me … from their interview, you’d probably guess they’re SELFLESS and RESILIENT, but anyone who’s worked a closing shift with them knows just how UNLUCKY and SELF - DEPRECATING they can get after spending all day listening to BLINDED ( WHEN I SEE YOU ) by THIRD EYE BLIND looping through the sunset’s speakers. though, with the way employees have been disappearing lately, let’s just hope they survive the summer long enough to make it back to campus.
CHAPTER ONE : STATS.
name : oliver sylvester thorne.
age : twenty6.
gender + pronouns : cis man + he / him.
sexuality : bisexual .
faceclaim : finn bennett.
CHAPTER TWO : SOUNDTRACK.
01. breakfast at tiffany's — deep blue something.
02. blinded ( when i see you ) — third eye blind.
03. every you every me — placebo.
04. disarm — the smashing pumpkins.
05. come out and play — the offspring.
CHAPTER THREE : STORY.
covering shifts for people who never return the favor ; free pretzel bites handed out at closing ; awkward smiles that make people trust them instantly ; trying to keep the group from falling apart ; lingering too long in uncomfortable silences ; kindness stretched dangerously thin ; wanting everyone to get along even when they clearly won’t ; and the fear that being “ good ” won’t actually matter in the end .
it was not always law that oliver wanted to pursue. his interests lay elsewhere entirely — music, video games, films — anything more exciting than the inner workings of the american judicial system. that never did much to deter his father, though. sylvester thorne had always wanted more for his only son : to watch him grow, thrive, bloom into something respectable. after all, who had ever heard of a professional mortal kombat player ? so, from a young age, oliver found himself weighing up more lucrative paths. medicine was too complicated, with lives quite literally in his hands. he lacked the mind for rocket science and, while he liked computers well enough, he wasn’t convinced there was any real future in that little thing called the world wide web. left on his list of options was law and so, from that point onwards, his life was set.
but his father had never expected that such a path would mean seeing his sun every summer. books were extortionate and, alongside food and travel and that pesky little thing called living expenses, it was near impossible for oliver to keep himself afloat without a separate stream of income. in term time, he works nightshifts as a morgue security guard for the nearby medical school. off - season, he returns home to clayton ; there is always a place waiting for him behind arcade machines or dishing out claw prizes, and between jobs it allows him extra time to catch up on much needed reading. in some way, it's why he's always the first to put himself forward to cover a shift of stay late — within the confines of the arcade, with the florescent lights and pings of pinball machines, he is granted a wedge of peace otherwise unknown.
ollie is a sweetheart. his crooked, toothy smile melts anyone that looks upon it and, since he is at the mall more often than not, it shines upon most who walk past the endless shop fronts. despite his charm, he is not the lucky sort ; he has run out of fingers to count how many times he has ended up stuck in a machine he was fixing, on how many occasions his winnings got caught on the way out. and yet his energy is always focused on those around him who need a little positivity. on off days you will find him staring wistfully at action figures or video games that are far out of his price range, or making a dollar hot dog last as his single meal of the day. the thornes may have been wealthy, but none of that trickled down. maybe once he is in court, with a gavel and a silly wig, he will earn the overdue respect of the one man that is reluctant to give it.
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