In my mind, Ka-thala is a wild, exotic hotspot full of fun, indulgence, and all kinds of activities, even the illegal kind. Naturally, seedy but high end clubs absolutely exist there, and yes, I would 100 percent be visiting them. That’s why where this little moment comes from. I’ve taking some creative liberty to imagine a club scene featuring Ollie pole dancing, since he’s my favorite. There will be more to this, as this is just an imagine. So before the full scene drops, here’s a taste and a little insight into why I like my men pretty, completely unhinged, and dangerous enough to make you laugh first and question your safety second.

Ollie checks every box.

So if I ever saw Ollie on a pole, make up done flawlessly, hairy legs out on display in fishnets, glitter dusting every inch of him, I would foam at the mouth. No hesitation, no shame. Just his hips rolling to the beat like its second nature, would be a religious experience to see. I would ascend. CPR would be administered as I’m dragged out of the club on a stretcher, like a Victorian Widow.

There is no way any other Mark could pull that off. Not even Mohawk, the second most liberal and accepting in my option. He’d reject the idea from the start. Him? Dancing on a pole? Wearing a skirt? In front of people? The daddy issues and internalized "men are strong and can’t be pretty" beliefs limit them. Hearing the request he would scowl like you just told him you’re a spy. But if he somehow got up there, if you tricked him, dared him, offered enough sugar for a reward, or even caught him on a weird night, it wouldn’t be sexy. It would be feral. Hair flying, eyes wild stomping the stage to "Closer by Nine Inch Nails".

Ollie however is the complete opposite of that.

He would know what exactly what he’s doing, and accept happily. His song choice wouldn’t be grunge. It would be pop or rap. I’m thinking "Vroom Vroom by Charli XCX" or literally anything by Doja Cat. Something fast and bratty with too much bass. The little freak would hear one of those songs on the radio and say it reminds him of you, like it’s a compliment. While dancing, he would grin but not sweetly. It would be the smile of a man who knows you don’t know what you’re getting into.

He knows he’s batshit insane and says stupid shit, but lazy is not in his vocabulary. He wants to look the part for you, a professional pole dancer extraordinaire, and nothing is going to be half assed. Because if his cheeks are going to be out, you better believe he’s going to look his best while doing it. He’s trying to be pretty for you and you’re the prettiest thing he knows, so he raids your personal items, clothes and makeup. Whatever he can find. Mark (Mohawk) built that closet for you, stuffing it so full it’s a goddamn fashionista’s wet dream, a personal mall to impress. Ollie knows there’s gotta be some cute, unfussy crap in there that will fit his tight ass. And if he has to tear the whole thing apart to find it, he will. Mark though is losing his shit, over Ollie wrecking the place. If nothing fits he’s out the door before anyone can stop him, in a hunt for something sluttier, louder and flashier.

At the club, on your birthday, the lights him just right. His lashes heavy with glitter, over the one eye he has. The other closed, lined in kohl over an empty socket. Lips lined and painted bright red. Be aware you wouldn’t be watching a man try something new on a whim. You would be watching someone become something out of this world and own it 😜💖.

📝 Inspired by the amazing @itsabee (AO3). Check out My Dead Girlfriend by them.