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@arlox-blog1
i caNT belieb this place is closed what ))))):::: i just finished an exam n came back to this,,, why pls. if u guys wanna stay in touch then feel free to hmu on aiM or somethin,,, u could also msg me at @ rpcmeme !! ig this is goodbye ): ur all amazing writers n i hope allllllll ur rp adventures after this r a+ 💗💗
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veryangryfeminist:
matosua:
sugar buddy: your totally platonic rich friend who gives u expensive gifts
a literal pay pal
ofleonis:
“do me a favour, leo… it’ll only take a few minutes, leo…” he’s grumbling to himself, parroting his brother’s words in a bitter hiss as he kneels under the dim glow of a street lamp. “oh, stop being such a brat, leo, you practically live next door…” he is ( kind of ) being a brat, though; hand-delivering a letter is not a big ask, much less when it’s addressed to an apartment some five-hundred yards from his own. still, when one has half a bottle of champagne dancing though their veins, even the most simple of tasks has a strong likelihood of going awry. and so it is, that leonis finds himself here: at the doorway of an unfamiliar building, one arm slotted through the letterbox of its grand, oaken door, contemplating just how the hell his goddamn keys ended up on the other side. his fingers scrape against the wood, a whine of frustration slipping from his lips as he strains to reach the lock. the sound floats down the vacant street, ricocheting against concrete façades and drowning out the dull patter of approaching footsteps. only when a shadow appears in his peripheral vision, does the prince finally notice he’s not alone, and the realisation nearly sends him toppling backwards in alarm. he raises a shaky palm, pressing it to his eyes ( mostly to still the spinning, but also to hide his embarrassment at being caught in such a suspicious predicament ). “please don’t call my mother,” he begins, the words fading into a groan, because that is not what he meant to say, damn it. “the police— i meant the police. i can explain, just… don’t call the police.”
being a wanderer had its perks, arlox thought to himself as he roamed the street distractedly, fingers lingering on the delicately folded bills inside his jeans. and meeting people from this district was always so much fun. why? because arlox enjoyed the power he held over a bunch of cocky douchebags and girls that couldn’t quite break eye contact with him. being from the “shady” side, the rich boys and girls found him to be fascinating and dangerous and, in return, he found them to be financially beneficial. so, he might technically be betraying everything he stands for ( after all, he was against halloway more than anyone else ), but his hatred for this district didn’t matter, especially not when he gets great drugs and unattached sex out of them. well. mostly unattached. it’s no secret that arlox has had his fair share of cling-ons. a bunch of average, boring people who wanted to ensnare a heart that just isn’t there, wanted to wreck the world with a partner in crime who, in the end, was only going to stab them in the back. really, it’s all humorous because arlox doesn’t like to share his glories and enjoys kinship even less. thanks, but no thanks. so he’s probably damaged some feelings in his wake. and he’s hurt enough people that he’s just come to sort of realize that he isn’t a good person. he just isn’t. he wasn’t born with enough compassion or care or patience; instead he was laden with a minuscule, distant, barely decipherable conscious that weighed him down and made him angrier. but it seems like he wasn’t the only angry person out here tonight. his cloudy eyes flicker towards a familiar figure, catches their eyes with an intense, bone-marrow-cutting stare. “oh leona,” is what he starts with, smirking, almost fondly, as he observes the other man. “i might just have to call your mom,” he continues in his smoky voice, but his words are flavoured with mirth. “she should know what her son is getting up to at this hour.”
atlasici:
atlas shuts his eyes for a second, before refocusing on the punching bag in front of him. his hair is sweaty, curls dangling in his face, as he balls up his fists and starts throwing punches again. his fists hurt, he’s been punching the damn thing for over an hour but he needs to get the anger out in a healthy way. he almost doesn’t notice that someone is sitting behind him, but that doesn’t stop him from punching. “what are you doin’ here?”
"what a guy can’t come out here to observe his best mate?” arlox inquires, and he can’t help the amusement that pulls his lips into a smile, one eyebrow creeping up his forehead. “nah, i’m kiddin’. i just wanted to check up on ya’. you alright? you seem a bit...” arlox pauses, nibbles on the inside of his lips and cheek. itches his nose. he’s got nervous twitches because speaking about emotions is something very foreign to him. “tense.”
wyntvrs:
&&. her lungs S C R E A M in agony, senses overwhelmed with every inhale. her smoke mixes with arlox’s to form a deadly cocktail that is only enhanced by the humid air laced with fried food. wynter ignores the cries, placing the cigarette precariously between pillow-y lips as if the toxin filtered air rather than p o l l u t e d it. “ fuckin’ rent, ” she exhales harshly – adding fuel to the pity party the two seem to be unconsciously throwing. “ the damned government claims everything else – why should we have to pay for shelter ? it’s fuckin’ ridiculous if ya’ ask me. if you’re goin’ to school, they should pay it off because we all damn well know they’ve got the means to. puntas, all of ‘em. ” a dry chuckle leaves her rosé lips, chapped with a need for water. “ would ya’ rather them notice ? ‘cause if i gotta spend the rest of my life connin’ the damned halloway district, i’d rather them be too ignorant to notice ‘til it’s too late & i’ve drained them for every cent they own. ” she assumes the brunet is after a challenge, one he’s not finding when the affluent are too absorbed in themselves & their A P P E A R A N C E S to notice thievery. her plush lips curl into an ‘ o ’, smoke leaking slowly from the opening as she listens intently to arlox’s bitterness. “ guess we’ll never know huh ? ‘m kinda grateful in a way – keeps me from becomin’ a brainless esclava to the damned government. ” her tone softens like the chewy, caramel center of a rolo as his faint words wash over like a wave crashing gently against a sandy shore. “ the only thing i’d ever envy is their stability. ” she replies in agreement, words breathed out in a cloud of cigarette smoke. a m e l a n c h o l y looks overtakes her countenance, coffee hues swarming with unwelcome emotion as she presses her dying cigarette to her plush lips once more.
&&. arlox breathes more smoke, trying to suffocate the empty parts of himself with smoke & more smoke & smoke, feeling a cross between irritation &… sadness expand with each breath. nodding along to her rant, arlox allows himself to think about their current predicament as he sucks in the cold, burnt smoke of his cigarette, pinched between two dirty fingernails. he stares out at the nearly empty location; a nice blanket of smog coats their district like a little protective blanket, keeping everybody asleep and P O I S O N E D under its embrace. there are no visible stars, barely a visible moon. the government paying for shelter ? he can’t help but sneer at the thought before it sweeps away in the breeze, tangled up in the clouds of smoke from his lips. that would never happen. the government doesn’t care for them & they never will, because everyone in gerret ? they don’t care about trivial things like their image. they don’t just care about themselves & nothing else — they’re like a family. everyone he’s met here is special & different & memorable in some way. they’ve all got a story to share. the conversations are all unique, all the whispered intrigues are a d e l i g h t to listen to. every person from this district, every teen, every child, every adult —they’ve all got something wonderful about them. they all know what it’s like to have absolutely n o t h i n g & perhaps that is why the government fears them so much. how does that saying go again ? ‘people won’t behave if they have nothing to lose’ ? well, truer words have never been spoken. “ it’s not that i want them to notice, ” he explains patiently, tapping some of the ash off his cigarette, watching the end crumble off into tiny little embers that drift away in the wind, soft as curled paper. “ it’s the idea of it -- the idea that they have all this shit. they have everything handed to them on a silver platter & what do we get ? nothing. we don’t have proper mattresses, we don’t get a decent meal every night, we can hardly afford to pay for shitty shelters. how fucked is that ? “ arlox murmurs sharply, a sudden jaggedness blooming in his chest that has nothing to do with the smoke he’s consuming. “ suppose you’re right, though. i may get angry that i’m never able to afford the things i desire, but at least i’ve got myself a brain & incredible street smarts. can’t say the same from them. “
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Sometimes I feel like I’m slowly floating away. I’m constantly looking for something to grab on to so I don’t lose myself.
Kasie West, Pivot Point (via wildfairy)
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◤ ✕ °┋› ARLOX CARTER.
❝ —— and you said i’ve L O S T my head. can you see it ? can you s e e it ?
