oliver castillo

all bean had wanted was to judge people in peace with a beer in her hand – hell, that was all bean ever wanted. she had nothing against company but goddammit, people just had to keep trying to talk to her while she was blatantly not interested and (short of being blatantly ignorant) she didn’t have much choice but to engage in the idle small talk that people seemed to love so much. thankfully, she’d been left alone for the last few minutes, but upon noticing a figure in her peripheral vision, the briton heaved a sigh. without turning to look at who the person was, she questioned, “are you planning on silently lurking there all night, are you lost, or are you actually planning on making some attempt at a decent conversation?”

while charlie was never one to turn down a good party, she always had a list of rules to follow at them. 1. never drink more than you can handle. getting sloppy was something that charlie would never allow herself to do; after all, she would hate to do something horrifyingly embarrassing in front of her peers. and yet, here she was, an hour into the party and already two shots, one glass of wine and two mixed drinks in. she wasn’t sloppy yet, but she’d past the point of tipsy for sure. dark eyes scanning the room, she fidgeted awkwardly against the back wall of the church. normally she was fine being a wallflower, but tonight, when everyone else was completely letting loose, she found herself unsatisfied with the rigid rules she normally gave herself. “fuck it,” she said, loud enough for those close to her to hear. “i’m getting another shot, want one?” charlie asked, offering them a small smile. 

drinking was something oliver had more than gotten used to. between meeting new people constantly and using the party scene to meet new clients, he honestly had built up more of a tolerance to hard spirits than he’d like to. so he had to have a fair few drinks but he was finally feeling the effects just a little. the light buzz in his ears, the hazed feeling in his eyes setting in a little. he tended to flit between different groups of people, getting bored if the conversations dragged along the same three topics. as soon as people started on their missing relatives, he strategically ducked out before his turn. so that’s how hed somehow ended up near a girl wanting more shots. “y’know what? i’m sure not about to turn down shots. line them up and lets go.” he smirked, nudging her. “wanna try this? it’s strong.” he offered, holding out his cup.

now, before you say anything— he didn’t escape, it’s not like that. not necessarily. just— just at one point it all got a little too much, you know? with the horrendously loud music, worrying amounts of alcohol, unstoppable laughter and the overall act, majority trying to pretend that nothing bad is happening. he can’t do that. so, instead of participating, lou wanders off on his own. eventually, he ends up on a roof, a perfect spot for when you want to be all alone. or so he thinks. legs are stretched out, a colorful pill rests in the palm of his hand. he’s about to reach for a beer, down that sucker when someone enters his space. lou can hear the footsteps behind him. letting out a sigh, he doesn’t really bother to look. “uhh—” he begins, brows furrowing. “this roof’s occupied. you can try next door.” 

oliver was a party animal, for sure. however, sometimes it got a little bit too much. whether he was just too drunk or too hot or just needed a break, sometimes it was nice to be able to get out of that atmosphere and trade it for some fresh air. however, upon stepping out into the roof he was met with words he hadn’t expected. he wasn’t expecting anyone to be out here at all, really. “well, aren’t you just absolutely charming?” he spoke, the drawled words falling from his lips as he struck up his lighter to light the cigarette propped between his lips. “i’m sure you won’t mind sharing for like two minutes. too damn hot in there anyway. that looks interesting. where’d you get it from?” he asked, gesturing to the pill he swore he’d seen as he’d stepped out.

monty smirks. his lips lift slowly, fluidly, from corner to corner. his countenance  e a s e s  into its characteristic flippancy. “ fuck knows is right, ” he supplies, eyeing the dark horizon as he takes oliver’s cigarette into his fingers, raises it to his lips, and drags. monty’s always been one for the night –– he admires how unlit land bleeds out to the skies, a wolf in sheep’s clothing. he ponders how many early pilots have been duped, and wishes he could break out of this town to explore their wreckage.

“ anything stronger, ” he parrots with a scoff.  the crossword goes forgotten, tossed to the ground with a satisfying plack. “ y’know me? ”  monty lazily lifts his chin to gaze at oliver through half-lidded eyes. he licks the nicotine from his lips, before brushing shoulders with the other male, cigarette outstretched with steady hand. 

with his left, monty dips into the breast pocket of his jacket, forefinger and middle finger gliding against midnighted leather. they surface with several small bags: painkillers. weed. cocaine. molly. the easiest shit to conceal tonight. and the easiest to sell to west ham’s worried and wounded.

monty dangles the assorted substances with a knowing smile. he’s got heavier supplies stowed away –– for when this town’ll surely need it. his next words sound a low purr, ghosting past barely-parted lips.

“  pick  your   p o i s o n ,  castillo .  ”

being around monty never failed to make him a weird balance of uneasy and at ease. it was like the other had a quality that made him want to relax into the presence and yet the presence was entirely something that he knew he shouldn’t be so comfortable with. being comfortable only lead to danger. in his line of work, he knew that it was near impossible anyway. “wow, fuck knows really fits into those spaces? i doubted myself but i’ve done it again, fucking genius.” came his sarcastic drawl, an easy attempt as the words seemed to just flow. 

he rolled his eyes at the parroting, resisting the urge to punch him in the shoulder and instead kicking his foot lightly as a show of weak protest. accompanied with a slight and low grumble, it made as much of a point as he needed it to. “unfortunately.” he quipped, glaring. 

taking the cigarette from him, he propped it back between his own lips to take a long and steady inhale. a practised motion that he was more than used to by now. however, as the assorted substances were dangled in front of him like a proverbial carrot, the cigarette was soon forgotten. he stubbed it out into the ground with a boot clad foot, eyes focused on his array of choices. “you not on the menu?” he huffed with a lazy wink, fingers trailing over the bags before settling on the cocaine, tapping it lightly. “feel like this will be best for the situation. what do you want for it? name your price, monroe.”

          A  BITTER  SMILE  APPEARING  on  her  lips  ,  she  gave  him  an  annoyed  glance  before  pulling  her  phone  back  out  to  check  her  reflection.  fixing  her  hair  with  her  front  camera  on  ,  she  responded,          “  ooh  yeah  ,  running  will  really  get  your  count  up.  ”  she  conversed  as  if  she  was  just  skipping  the  service  inside.  she  could  almost  pretend  nothing  was  wrong  and  she  just  wasn’t  in  the  mood  to  listen  about  the  great  lord.          “  i  hear  jogging  is  better  for  getting  your  count  up  ,  so  let  me  know  how  it  goes.  ”

it was a struggle to resist the urge to laugh when she fixed her hair with her front camera, having to press his hand to his temple for a long moment so he didn’t just immediately spit out a sarcastic remark. it was almost a reflex by now. “so our lives are pretty much upside down and you’re checking your hair in your front camera? you know what, i don’t even know why i’m surprised. i mean, sure! why look for essentials and gather important materials when you can make sure your hairspray is still in tact.” he laughed, leaning back on the ground so he could look up at the sky. “my count is already up by enough today already. the pacing did the trick.”

          SARCASM  WASN’T  SOMETHING  SHE  was  used  to  being  met  with.  if  anything  ,  lane  was  usually  the  one  giving  the  sarcasm.  people  rarely  messed  with  her  (  because  people  rarely  cared  enough  )  but  oliver’s  words  still  made  her  uneasy.            “  sorry,  ”  she  apologized  ,  though  the  word  lacked  the  conviction  she  needed  to  pass  it  off  as  genuine.            “  how’s  your  pacing  going  ?  ”  she  asked  sweetly  ,  an  plastic  smile  crossing  her  lips.

the look he gained from his tone alone made oliver smirk a little, not being able to help the curl of satisfaction he felt. which he knew he shouldn’t but here they were. the apology wasn’t genuine so he didn’t feel the need to respond to it or reassure her. not that he was sure he would in the first place, honestly. “fantastically, thanks, i’m really getting my step count up.” he responded in the same artificial tone, forcing a smile. “might need the exercise. get my stamina up to run away from all of this bullshit at a later date.”

          with tonight’s looting complete, monty finds himself crouched against the front-facing wall of west ham’s church, yesterday’s newspaper trifolded against a jean-clad thigh. booted toes tap indistinct patterns against pavement; a red pen dances between nimble fingers. he notes approaching footsteps and leans his head back against cool brick, eyes half-lidded with mock frustration. 

          “ what do y’reckon’s another word for sub sandwich? ” 

          he over-enunciates the terminal phrase, allowing the unsightly americanism to curl around british tongue. truly, he couldn’t care less. but this copy of the west ham chronicle’s the best entertainment he’s had for the past thirty minutes. compared to tonight’s hackneyed parental woes, it’s riveting. another word for sub sandwich. monty lifts his gaze, nips his pen’s cap, and waits for his answer.

oliver had all but given up trying to call round and see what the hell was going on. his parents weren’t answering. all of his sisters (or at least the ones with phones) weren’t answering. it was futile. obviously. his cigarette was poised between his index finger and thumb, rolling it between the two as he looked at the unlit end. it was only when he was spoken to that he blinked, taking a long drag to try and hide how out of it he’d been. however, upon seeing who had spoken? it didn’t seem to matter so much. of course it was monty and of course he looked just as... well as monty as ever. 

“fuck knows.” was the first response out of his mouth. screw crouching, he was all for just straight up sitting on the floor. he sat down with a light huff of breath, taking hold of the cigarette he’d held between his lips to lower himself to the ground. “want a drag?” he asked, holding it out to the other. “unless you have anything stronger.” he eyed the other, knowing they’d definitely gone down that path before. exchanges of goods and services. totally professional. “cause i’m up for that too.” he smirked a little. “but uh.. hoagie? subway? i dunno. i’d google it but there’s no fuckin’ service.”

a  joke .  obviously  ––  this  was  one  of  the  greatest  pranks  pulled  off  in  history .  hell ,  maybe  this  was  ashton’s  come  back  for  punk’d   &  they’d  really  pulled  of  some  good  shit .  a  curious  yet  almost  cynical  laugh  fell  from  his  mouth  as  he  stepped  up  towards  the  group  of  stressed  out  and  panicked  kids .            ❛  are  you  all  serious ? ❜          a  scoff  &  a  charming  smile  before  he  was  off  again .              ❛  your  parents  aren’t  gone .  they’re  just  hiding  ––  or  whatever .  fuckin’  relax . ❜          casual .  he  was  being  way  too  casual  for  a  situation .            ❛  they’re  probably  gone  for  the  night  &  didn’t  know  we  were  coming  home .  the  important  part  is  ––   ❜          he  wrapped  his  arm  around  the  nearest  person  to  him  and  ––             ❛  we  have  the  town  to  ourselves  for  one  night . ❜          a  smirk  &  oh  no .

oliver grumbled when the arm was wrapped around him, feeling himself being pulled out of his stunned state. not that he wanted to be. god, he really just wanted a drink or something so he could genuinely be able to put all this to one side. “what do you suggest, the rest of us play one big game of hide and seek?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at the other as he turned his head. “i feel like the ‘or whatever’ is more accurate to describe this shitshow. i mean, hiding. really?” he rolled his eyes. “have you ever heard of personal space? or is that hiding along with all our parents?”

          still   in   denial   about   everything   ,   lane’s   marble   cased   phone   is   held   up   to   her   ear   ,   her   dad’s   voicemail   message   telling   her   to   leave   yet   another   message.   it   doesn’t   even   ring   more   than   twice   ,   like   he’s   just   ignoring   all   her   calls.   she’s  sitting  outside  the  church  ,  skirt ruffled  and  legs  crossed.  prayer  can  only  do  so  much  to  ease  her  mind.  pulling  the  phone  away  from  her  ear  ,  she speaks  up.              “   weird,   ”   she   says   ,   ending   the   call   and   holding   her   phone   to   her   chin.               “   have   you   been   able   to   reach   anyone   ?   i’m   barely   getting   a   signal   and   my   dad   keeps   sending   me   to   voicemail.   ”

pacing was definitely not going to do anything but wear down his shoes, oliver had concluded. he head been sat down, hand in his hair and having a long think when a girl nearby spoke up. he moved his head to look at her, just staring for a moment. “look around. everyone is saying the same, phones seem to be dead.” he responded but just sighed before answering properly. he supposed that sarcasm wasn’t exactly going to help anything. the least he could do was actually attempt to converse.  “no, i haven’t. no signal and voicemail when it eventually does go through.”

“i, uh —- i got water !!” he staggers out of the deserted gas station, voice strained as he does his best to balance two cases of water bottles in his arms. with a determined huff, he makes his way over to a nearby flowerbed ( flowers unfortunately fallen victim to the storm ) and bends his knees to set the cases down, wincing slightly at the ache in his arms once they’re settled. “i got—-” he turns and goes to repeat himself, but before he can make it through the sentence, people are coming up and opening the cases themselves, taking the bottles and then vanishing off, some alone, some in small groups. santi sheepishly sits himself down on the small ledge and begins handing the remaining bottles out to those who pass by, smiling sympathetically at the ones who look a little more upset than others. ( he can’t say he’s not a bit frazzled himself – this whole situation’s got his head spinning, but he’s trying to roll with the punches, here. ) with a slow exhale and a weary smile, he goes to hand the nearest person a water bottle. “y’want one? it’s good to stay hydrated n’ stuff.”

there was somehow a spark of amusement and a spark of sympathy when he saw people practically mobbing the case of water that had been placed down on the flowerbed. he got it, people were stressed and freaked out. but people were clearly now just crossing lines to get what they wanted, knowing that this whole disappearing act couldn’t mean anything good. he figured it couldn’t be so bad to hover, test the waters and see what was going on with others. if anything, it might take his mind off his own annoyance and worry and panic. he was for sure the type of person to just shut down when it came to such overwhelming emotions. “good to stay hydrated when we don’t know if we’ll be in the next batch to be vanished from the earth.” he shrugged his shoulders with a roll of his eyes. it was pretty easy to say that his viewpoint on this was certainly cynical. “but sure, if you’re offering.” he took the bottle and slotted it into the pocket of his jacket. “thanks. you should’ve probably kept that to yourself, y’know. who knows how long things will be like this and you might be wishing you kept that whole case. trade it for something better down the line.”

         the convenience store was entirely uninhabited, and if quinn thought about that for too long, it would absolutely terrify her. maybe parents weren’t picking up their phones for a good reason; maybe there was a boring town hall meeting she’d forgotten about. maybe they were all at some weird bar getting mid life crisis wasted. there could be explanations for that. but an unmanned gas station was just freaky, no matter how you looked at it.

          she arrived back at the church only a few moments after disappearing, working on a bag of sour gummy worms. despite her internal panic, quinn maintained a cool demeanor. she looked almost bored, but mostly unimpressed. “not that this isn’t super fun and all, but this humidity is doing awful things to my hair. can we move this mass hysteria inside?”

running around the town definitely wasn’t oliver’s style but it’s what he’d found himself doing he was frantically trying to find some sign of his parents or his sisters, ringing their numbers and going to where he thought they’d be. nothing. absolutely nothing. zoning out seemed the better option, sat down on the sidewalk and leaning back on his hands. “so, let me get this straight.” he started, looking up at the girl who seemed to have just gotten back from somewhere. it wasn’t his to question right now. “people have literally vanished and you’re thinking about your hair? please, for the love of god, record that and listen to it back. because, honestly, i don’t think you have any idea how ridiculous it sounds.”

“for the LAST fucking time, i havent been able to call anybody either. try somebody else.” he’s getting snappy – he knows. it’s just that people keep asking him if they can use his phone or if he can try calling their family for them, because their phone died or their data plan is maxed out or they don’t have signal or whatever else. of course he’s the one that gets the brunt of it ( ‘fuck me for being the only motherfucker with a portable charger, right?’ he thinks ), and writing down random loved ones’ phone numbers in his notes app and promising people he’ll give them a call later ( he won’t ) got old about three numbers ago. so when he feels somebody approach him from the side, it shoots an agitated feeling up his spine, and before he can stop himself he’s letting out an exasperated sigh and an irate, “FUCK do you want?”

oliver hated this whole situation, to be quite blunt about it. people were yelling or running around like headless chickens and he wanted nothing more than to bury his damn head in the sand so he wouldn’t have to deal with it. but for now? the best method seemed to be to roam around the gatherings of people and see what he could procure. if he could actually get anything out of this or figure out the specifics of what was going on. so he was wandering when he was met with a sigh and a harsh exchange, blinking a little. “well, i was just about to ask if you if you wanted to join me to steal the declaration of independence but fuck you.” he scoffed, looking the other up and down as he folded his arms across his chest. a definite attempt to now show how worried he was about all this. “what’s gotten you so fuckin’ irritated?”

hi y’all! i’m carly (she/her, 21, gmt) and this is my bby oliver castillo. i’m gonna ramble some info here about him and call it an intro basically? feel free to msg me to plot! or like this and i’ll roll on over into your dms.

(tw; drugs/alcohol mention and morally dubious behaviour, mentions of nsfw relations but nothing in detail. i honestly don’t know how else to say he lowkey sells himself tbh?)