#ft.oliver

[rcsydaze]

𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥..... @olivermp3​

Stella’s time in this villa so far has been pretty uneventful. The last person she thought would be here is going to be her housemate... ugh, what a nightmare. At least, it’s peaceful now. The time on her phone shows that it’s currently 2:30 AM and here she is, sitting alone with a glass of martini in her hand. Correction- it is her third glass of alcohol tonight. To be honest, the alcohol is starting to consume her, but she doesn’t mind it. Finishing her third glass, she huffs looking down at the empty glass “How lame...” She mutters. Hearing footsteps approaching, she rolls her eyes and sits up straight “Sorry, but this is a party for one.” She says, completely oblivious as to who is approaching her. “The bar will be open again to the public tomorrow... Tonight, it’s all mine.” She continues placing one of her elbows against the bar counter and supports her head using her hand. “And another one for me...” She mumbles, pouring more whiskey into her glass.

[exhvmc]

HE  IS   A  REMARKABLY  CALM  CONTRAST  to the youth that tries so desperately to hold his attention ,   axel cuts a casual figure, trying to loosen his limbs in effort to conjure the energy he does not feel.  ❝  and this has got what to do with me exactly ?  ❞  it feels remiss to REMIND that publicising a vapid celebrity charity contest doesn’t automatically make him pals with organisers, nor sympathise with the yearning for given prize. it’s been adam lake this and adam lake that for DAYS on end, he’s more inclined to give the lad a wide berth.  //.  @oliverorpheus​

[exhvmc]

    ❝     oh… fuck.    ❞   have you ever watched that horror movie?  the one where the scared shitless blonde has her back pressed up against the wall and has to inch  s l o w l y  toward the corner turn to check if there’s an axe-yielding motherfucker waiting right there round that god-forsaken corner?  axel doesn’t scare easily. there he is, broadcast building, sauntering down the hall, about to turn the corridor only to be assaulted by a very familiar silhouette, perhaps which has not spotted him yet, but finding an escape route might be moot at the moment.   ❝     fuck. fuck, FUCK.  ❞   swift 180 degree swivel to stride hurriedly back from whence he’d come, nimble fingers SEIZING the puny snot at his flank.   ❝  why is he here?!   ❞   it’s a withered hiss of urgency with a menacing glare that has made braver men quail when he’s cared enough to deliver it, and quail the boy does, sputtering one excuse or another.   ❝    fuck me.  ❞             /.   @oliverorpheus