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handler: jess
age: 23
occupation: musician
affiliation: n/a
application: --
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gif link: https://68.media.tumblr.com/c98d3a504ac7b41e99c7615b8c065ff1/tumblr_onsvoutXst1uji35eo2_400.gif
lyrics: Pain don't hurt the same, I know
The lane I travel feels alone
But I'm moving 'til my legs give out
And I see my tears melt in the snow
But I don't wanna cry
I don't wanna cry anymore
I wanna feel alive
I don't even wanna die anymore
Oh I don’t wanna
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Joined: 15-June 17
Status: (Offline)
Last Seen: Mar 28 2018, 09:06 PM
Local Time: Apr 20 2018, 08:04 AM
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oliver preston

civilian

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Aug 7 2017, 01:06 PM
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Oliver had been getting to know Finley ever since the charity rugby match and had to admit that he couldn’t help but adore him in so many ways. He enjoyed their nights of giggling at netflix movies and getting so caught up in a conversation that it felt like they were the only people in the world. Oliver was currently smitten spite knowing that nothing could really come of it. Right now he just wanted to live in the moment and absorb the good feeling he was having for the first time in a long time. <br><br>
The weather wasn’t awful, but it wasn’t nearly as nice as it had been at the beginning of their summer, but Oliver was hopeful. He wanted to be able to out to the country before the weather got to dreary, which was exactly why he phoned Finley and asked if he wanted to head out for a picinic. Sure it was something that Oliver might have considered romantic, but he was trying to stay away from those notions not wanting Finley to get to close to him because Oliver himself knew that there was nothing good going to come of it, it couldn’t. Regardless Oliver liked having Finny as a friend and thought they could have a strictly friendly picnic because the weather was surprisingly sunny between all the clouds. On the drive out to the country Oliver decided he was going to DJ and introduce Finley to the music genre that is Irish pop punk singing and hope for the best. He had a very diverse music taste and felt that he needed to share that with his new found friend. After settling down in the country and enjoying what little bit of sun might be left in the year Oliver couldn’t but continually catch himself staring at Finley not wanting the moment to end. <B>You know, I’ve never been out to this part of the country, have you? Or has this been just some sad experiment that wound up being good in the end because its great out here,”</b> Oliver said before taking a large bite of some food because he was starving after their drive out of the city.

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<b>372</b> words for <b>finley hodgens</b><br>
<b>notes</b> not date date </td></tr></table>

</div><a href="http://shine.jcink.net/index.php?showuser=8549"><div style="font: bold 8px calibri; opacity: .5; text-align:center; padding: 5px;">BY MITZI</div></a></center>

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Jun 20 2017, 08:03 PM
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Oliver is a fragile precious cupcake. He's had a lot of bad luck in his life and because of this he doesn't ever see the good that comes in his life so he may come off as a little ungreatful sometimes for the things he does have; ie music career, friends, very attractive man in love with him ect ect. Overall though Oliver is a very good friend, he's completely sober doen't drink or do drugs or anything so he's the best person to go to the bar with and he's very sweet overall. He's like a tiny small introvert who also plays sold out concerts what isn't there to love??<br><br>

<b>Friends:</b> Oliver would be the kind of person to make lots of friends everywhere that he went. He's overall just really sweet and reserved and probably is the best kind of person to be friends with someone who is really full of themselves and likes to talk a lot because he'd be super supportive and just let them have at it and he'd enjoy every moment of hearing about your lives. <Br><br>

<b>Enemies:</b> He's got a lot of issues when it comes to things like being open about feelings and like i said above coming off as ungreatful. So i can say that he'd probably more so have people dislike him and like thinnk he's spoilt ect ect.<br><br>

<b>Lovers:</b> Olivers final is Closed. Oliver isn't really into temp ships or like hook ups or anything. He's literally thinking he's cursed that anyone he loves dies so unless you want to like be his temp AND DIE just probably not a good idea... <br><br>
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<b>HIS NAME IS OLIVER</b>
i should've said it all when i was close to you
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<a href="http://shine.jcink.net/index.php?showuser=8549"><div style="text-align: right; width: 390px; font: 9px calibri; opacity: .3; padding: 5px 0;">#8549</div></a>[/dohtml]
Jun 15 2017, 05:33 AM
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oliver s. preston

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23

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civilian

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n/a

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miles hiezer

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<center><i>Here lies Janet Mabel Preston. Mother. Daughter. Loving Wife. April 12, 1970 - March 31, 2000</i></center> <br><br>

Hugs turned to loneliness. Laughter turned to tears, and memories that can never be forgotten. Oliver was a frequent flier at the cemetery in London and often times the groundskeeper would ask how he was doing when he would arrive bi-weekly to make his rounds. Today was an anniversary, a birthday that will never be the same for him. He remembers the night his mothers life was cruelly taken from him every evening in his nightmares. He remembered his first experience with death, one that never seemed a stranger to him since. Today he would not dwell on that, he would not think about his Mother in her worst moments, he would remember the good times. The times they would dance around the kitchen baking and singing songs. He would think about his fifth birthday when he was gifted with his grandfathers guitar from her. He would think of the look in his eyes when he looked up to his mother, his superhero, his idol. Today he wouldn't think about the cemetery filled with the names of people he knew and loved and just sit in the grass hoping the rain would hold out long enough for him to get through his list. <br><br>
Laying a blanket down, small and ratty he'd had it as long as he could remember. He sat with his back leaning against her headstone, it was a familiar place to him and he felt at home there, peaceful. He'd replaced the flowers on her grave many times before and now was no different. Sitting down he brought out his notepad and his guitar, there was something about this place that made it easy for him to think, he was able to get through his process and show his mom who he was now and how proud she would be. <b>”I'm playing again Mum,”</b> He'd said softly to the headstone still hopeful so many years later that he would receive and answer from her. Oliver dealt with things, and it was hard for him to. He spent days in bed sometimes trying to face his demons and loosing every time. Music was what got him through it, but when he'd lost everything even music was hard to pull him to the light. <br><br>

<center><i>Here lies Jason Oliver Preston. Confident. Husband. Father. Lover. July 16, 1964 - March 31, 2000</i></center> <br><br>

Sitting next to his mother was always a bittersweet moment as she was sitting directly next to her was her murderer. Each night Oliver goes to sleep with hopes of a full nights rest just to wake in the middle of the night screaming in terror with tears streaming his face. The knowledge of knowing each time his light went off there was an unwanted visitor in his room growing up. The knowledge of each morning there would be tears from his mom as she fought to keep him away from her little boy. By noon things were different. Mom was hovering over Oliver protecting him, making up for the previous night. She was waiting in near fear for her husband she was so terrified to leave to come home unsure of who he was going to be that night. Each night it was different, each night he was different.<br><br>
Oliver feared him. His childhood was stripped from him and he didn't know what it was like to have a father he didn't completely live in fear of. If it wasn't the fear of bad touch, it was the shouting, or the thudding and the visuals of his mother hitting the floor. Black. Blue. Purple, they were signs of the war they were fighting together, the scars they had to match as the alcohol continued to flow through the house. Bang! Bang! And suddenly, on the evening of Oliver's sixth birthday it was over. The noise was loud but he was frozen stiff in the closet just a crack of light flooding in. Red. Another color ruined by his father as he now cowered alone waiting for someone to save him from his original nightmare.<br><br>
Anger flooded through him. Oliver couldn't continue the rae that filled his soul as tears spilled down his face trying to collect himself in the graveyard. He didn't want a fellow mourner to see him and think he was paying respects to the fertilizer below his feet. He glared down at the headstone with as much animosity as his small stature could muster before feeling overwhelmed with anger. He started kicking the headstone in a tantrum not caring that as much as he kicked the headstone he wasn't making any difference. No matter what he did his past was still his past. His nightmares were still present and his mother was still dead.<Br><br>


<center><i>A long lived, long loved spirit put to rest. Isabella Marsha Gratis. December 15, 1931 February 6, 2006</i></center> <br><br>

Things weren't entirely awful for Oliver after his parents died. It was rough for him. He didn't know where he was going, he didn't have family in London and he was bounced around for a while before he was able to find comfort in a single home. He was mute. Nobody wanted a six year old who wouldn't speak. Nobody wanted to reach out to the traumatized child who was going nowhere. Nobody until Isabella. Oliver had found his angel in the midst of the horror that was his life. She didn't push him, she didn't try to get him to be someone that he wasn't and she just let him do him. <br><br>
It wasn't long before Oliver was communicating again. First it was simple things, he'd come out of his room and sit with Isabella in the living room. He'd smile at her at the dinner table. He started picking up his guitar again. By the time Oliver was eight, two years after the upturn of life as he knew it he was almost back to a normal functioning child. Isabella had enrolled him in guitar lessons getting him to connect with the one thing that he seemed to have his head wrapped around since the moment that he walked into her life. For another six years Oliver got comfortable, but like all good things in his life they happened to come to an end. <br><br>
Walking across the wet grass Oliver knew that he was getting close to his next stop on his usual parade through the cemetery. Ten years had past and Oliver simply felt loss when he looked down at Isabella's grave. Loss and guilt. He remembered back to the day when he was twelve years old coming home from school and finding her alone. Isabella was alone laying on the ground, by the time he had gotten to her her skin had already gone cold to the touch. Oliver was angry. He was so angry. Once again someone that he had cared about so much, one of the few who actually cared about him was gone. Of course Isabella was older, he knew that he wasn't going to have much time with her, but that didn't mean he was ready. Another six years, another parent who taught him how to live and he was suddenly all alone in the world again. Him and his guitar. He knew that the way he had acted in his teen years let Isabella down, it let his mother down, and now that he had grown he vowed to never let them down again.<br><br>


<center><i>Only the good die Young. Samuel James Thomas. May 27, 1931 June 30, 2010</i></center>
<br><br>
Oliver spent the next few months in and out of fostercare. Bouncing between one family and the other refusing to get attached as he knew they wouldn't stay long. By now Oliver was at the height of his rebellious stage. He stayed out late, he ran away from each home he was placed in until he was finally sent to a halfway house. Each home would say the same thing until he landed in his final place just he and his guitar once again. He was troubled, he was placed with other troubled youth in the heart of London. The rules were strict and he knew his next stop was jail. Oliver didn't try to fit in. He didn't try to follow the rules, he just did his own thing. Good behavior got rewarded, poor behavior was punished, but when you just did your own thing you were kind of left alone. <br><br>
Shortly after Oliver arrived at the halfway house his room mate showed up. The two quickly got to talking, Sam was his name. Sam liked to be the older brother type to Oliver as he was the youngest in the house Oliver appreciated it. It wasn't long before Sam had deemed Oliver as the King of Bad Luck. Anything bad that could happen did happen to Oliver and he very well did believe it. Oliver continued to work at his music and tried to keep to himself, if he didn't expect anything he couldn't be disappointed. Sam wasn't an angel though, he was fun, he liked to get out and get into trouble and seemed to always bring his partner in crime Oliver with him. <br><br>
One night, just before Sam came of age and was to be released form the home, he decided to do one last hurrah for old times sake. Waking Oliver up in the middle of the night he tugged him out of bed and drug him to the streets of London. Next thing Oliver knew he was laughing and dancing through the streets with his best friend enjoying himself for the first time in a long time. Down by the Thames the two were hanging out and it was the best night by far, but like Sam used to say himself, Oliver was cursed. The worst luck of any person he'd ever met.<br><br>
<b>”You were so close man, we shouldn't have gone out that night,”</b. Oliver said digging his toes into the ground at the cemetery. The bridge was high, the wind was strong, and the water was cold and most of all Oliver missed his best friend. Years had passed and not a day goes by that Oliver doesn't regret going out that night. Maybe if he hadn't been there, maybe if Oliver had stayed home his curse hadn't have gotten Sam killed. <br><br>


<center><i>May the music in your heart reach down from the heavens. Mathew James Porter. May 12, 1951 June 10, 20014</i></center> <br><br>

Oliver was paying respects. He didn't visit this grave all that often, but he thought now more than ever that this was a good time to do it. Oliver's life wouldn't be where it was today without Mr. Porter. Isabella sought him out, took Oliver to each of his guitar lessons and because of him Oliver was the artist he was today. Oliver quickly went from street performance, to open mic night, to recording studios and most importantly sold out Arena's. Oliver wasn't used to hearing his music on the radio, but he knew that he owed it all to Mr. Porter. Oliver didn't have much to say to his old mentor, he didn't know what to think about as he circled his headstone. After a few moments of silence he dropped a handful of guitar picks in the grass and walked off to his next stop. <br><br>


<center><i>There shall be no darnkess nor dazzling but one equal light, no noise nor silence but one equal music. Desmond Anthony Todd. October 1, 1993 March 17, 2015</i></center> <Br><br>

Taking the longest time to wonder from his current place Oliver made his way to an unfamiliar grave. The person buried beneath was more than familiar to him. It was someone he considered a friend. A best friend, one that he would go as far as to saying he'd fallen in love with. Oliver felt his heart breaking with each step he took in the direction of the headstone he had yet to gain the courage to visit. Two years had since passed and he knew that he should have visited sooner, but he couldn't. To this day he was still having a hard time coming to terms with the fact that he was gone. His best friend was gone and he would never get to see him again. He'd never gotten the chance to express how he made him feel whenever they were in the same room as one another. <br><br>
Another person in his life, another person Oliver had come to care about gone. Taken from him. He was cursed. He knew that anyone he offered his heart too was doomed, he couldn't let people get close because it cost them their lives in the worst ways. Finally making his way to the headstone he stopped feeling his extremities go numb. He looked down and saw the name, read the dates on the stone and collapse to his knees. He felt his emotions come crashing down around him.<br>
it wasn't just this death, it was everything to him. It was the realization suddenly that he was very very alone. The accident that left his back up musicans hospitalized, it was his mother, his best friends, his life and he just felt the world around him collapsing as the first breath of fresh air seemed to hopefully be just around the corner, but Oliver didn't get his hopes up. He performed tonight. He had his first big concert since the accident, and he was terrified. Oliver was terrified to see what disaster would be thrown at him next.



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<div class="alias-box"> jess - pst - 23 </div>

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<a href="http://shine.b1.jcink.com/index.php?showuser=165"><div style="width: 450px;text-align: right; font-family: cambria; font-size: 8px; text-transform: uppercase; font-style: italic; color: #000; line-height: 100%; letter-spacing: 1px;"> ♥ SARA! </div></a>
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