#ofbeauisms

[superpcsitions]

imessage → beau

arlo: beau. beautiful boy. fellow weed enthusiast. olympian swimmer who could probably kick my ass in anything remotely athletic even when you're on medical rest

arlo: i think i have an idea on how to lift your spirits and it doesn't involve drugs for once

[lovebcrned]

@ofbeauisms​ liked!! 

“oh! i’m sorry to interject but please please please don’t tell me that you are planning on wearing that! you must change i’m so sorry!” 

[eleutherixs]

[text]: Haha, no. I’m not giving it back.

[text→ Beau]: what’s an Olympic swimmer gonna do with a baggie of weed? 

[text→ Beau]: smoke it?

send my muse one of the following to see how they react

[joysled-blog]

# plz

what your muse’s name is in mine’s phone

banana beau

what your muse’s picture is in mine’s phone

what your muse’s ringtone is in mine’s phone

“waterfalls” by tlc or “raise a little hell” by trooper 

my muses last text to yours

16:04┊  ‘ idk about you but i think speedos are disgusting ’

16:47┊  ‘ oh btw the liquor cabinet is restocked you’re invited to join pre’s anytime ’

[superpcsitions]

@ofbeauisms​ !

     PERHAPS ARLO IS becoming all too comfortable in the agreste-marin household but to be fair, he’s found himself at the very least visiting once every few days, if not spending the night. in such a gorgeous, huge home, arlo very rarely sees other people besides the occasional housekeeper or gardener outside. in fact, he kind of prides himself in the fact that he’s been able to sneak in and duck out whilst going unnoticed. it’s really helping with the whole we’re-together-but-also-we’re-definitely-not thing that arlo and florian have going on currently— it’s much too complicated to explain to anyone, much less someone so close to florian.

it’s when arlo steps out of florian’s bedroom, his footsteps quiet as he slowly and carefully closes the door behind him so not to wake the sleeping boy. he’s got a backpack on his shoulder, his shoes in his hands and a button-down shirt hanging from his torso as he tiptoes down the stairs towards the front door. of course, he barely makes it down the stairs when he realizes he’s been spotted by no other than the other person who lives in this very house: beau marin. arlo’s lips press together and his head tips back, a small groan escaping him. “fils de pute, je l'ai encore fait.” he mutters to himself. “i was just, um–” he points upstairs, in the direction of florian’s bedroom with his sneakers. “heard he was under the weather.” and swinging by in yesterday’s clothes? with a full-on overnight bag on your shoulder? “heavy sleeper, that one.”

[superpcsitions]

@ofbeauisms​ !

     TYPICAL OF BEAU and arlo to be smoking weed on the patio at eleutherios. arlo, still donning his all-white angel costume, leans on the balcony, elbows resting on the railing as he brings the joint to his lips and takes in a slow drag. he’s watching as groups of costume-clad people come in and out of the club and truthfully, it’s beyond entertaining. the night is still young and if he’s being honest, arlo feels like he needs to be cross-faded to enjoy his night. he just wants to ease his nerves, which have been bustling inside of him like bees slamming their bodies against the inside of a glass jar.

he holds the joint between his index and middle finger as he passes it to beau, his eyes dragging down the other male’s body. although arlo constantly jokes about how attractive beau is, it’s just something that would never happen. even if beau wasn’t florian’s brother, arlo sees him as a friend and nothing more, but it doesn’t stop him from teasingly hitting on him. they’re quiet as they smoke but it’s not uncomfortable; the only one uncomfortable is arlo, and it’s completely because— “i slept with your brother.” that. “just thought... maybe you’d wanna know.”

[superpcsitions]

@ofbeauisms !

     "IT’S NOT STEALING, jesus. you make me out to be some sort of delinquent?” though sounding defensive, arlo’s smiling through the accusation nonetheless as he pulls out a neatly rolled spliff from his back pocket. he’s sitting on a sandy dune next to beau, the water crashing below them and just barely touching his toes. arlo’s got his blue jeans rolled up to just below his knees as he places the joint between his lips and leans back on his elbows. after a moment, he pats his pockets for a lighter and yanks one out. “it’s just–” his words are muffled as he lights the end of the joint and takes in a slow drag of the drug, then rolls his head back to let the smoke swirl away from his lips in an elongated exhale. “you know, this photographer-type guy left the bed and breakfast last night and while i was helping the maid clean up his room, we discovered two things–” he holds up two fingers.

     “ophelia pulls me aside and shows me a playboy magazine. like, one of those old school ones. it’s tucked under the pillow, right? like the guy was sleeping next to it.” arlo wiggles his toes as the water kisses them. “and she’s all, he must’ve been some pervert. and i’m like, ophelia, i don’t think that constitutes for being a pervert. but i guess you could argue– do you smoke? i don’t remember if you smoke,” the thought interrupts him mid-sentence as arlo offers the joint to his friend. “i guess you could argue he was kind of a creep or something. anyway, she’s looking at this magazine and gawking at how there’s folded corners on some pages or something? and she’s sitting and just going on this rant— rightfully so— and i find this joint in the nightstand and figured it was karma, so i took care of it myself.”

[superpcsitions]

☎