beau-x

[beau-x]

@mclodrma

[beau-x]

hadley-maurine​:

xx

What a warm and fuzzy welcome. The blonde’s eyes squinted at the man who’d just snapped at her. It wasn’t as if they were friends. Hell she was pretty sure he didn’t even know who she was, and she had no idea what his name actually was. Still she’d hoped that maybe he’d have recognized her from around their complex like she had, and maybe it would be less awkward to ask if she could sit then it would be to total strangers. “An apparent the male equivalent of a Miss Congeniality.”

          “Sweetheart-- I’ve won many a beauty pageant award, but the pity prize they give to the ugly girl isn’t one of them,” he remarked, chuckling at his own joke into the coffee cup he returned to drinking from. In fact, ironically, he had once been known for his obnoxiously effective charm, but these days it’d all but gone out the window. Charm was no longer as useful to him as just putting his head down and getting through it all. “So can I help you? Or did you just want to interrupt my morning solitude to insult me?” 

[beau-x]

twitchywitchys​:

“Your ears. They’re ridiculously un-proportional to the rest of your face.” Coraline answers far too bluntly, brazen in her approach of the male. Well to be fair, he did ask what she was looking at and that particular observation of hers was what the graphic artist had stumbled across. There’s a graphite pencil in her hand, tip barely caressing the smooth parchment of her sketchbook. Inside, there lays a rough and by rough, I mean rough, outline of the male. From his sunken cheeks to his wide lemur like eyes. The only traditional and attractive trait about him is his jawline. It’s the type most men beg to have. Despite all this, Coraline can’t necessarily call him ugly, unusual maybe but not ugly. “See?” She responds, showing off her caricature of him.

Beau was certainly caught off-guard by the response, sucking his teeth rather than letting his mouth gape open, he tilted his head to his side as if to say ‘you’re entitled to your own opinion’. Of course, for someone with such a concern for his looks--or he used to, before he let Stella go and all went to shit--it bruised his ego for only a beat before he reminded himself of all the young women who slide into his dm’s with less than poignant ways of complimenting him. 

          “Isn’t there some sort of law against taking pictures of people without their consent?” he asked, returning his focus back to his coffee, “It should be extended to shitty art, too.”

[beau-x]

andreaxweber​:

Andrea looked up at him and gently shook her head no, obviously still a bit shaken up and trying to wrap her head around everything that went on that night. “I could be better,let’s just put it that way.”She said, her voice a bit low but still loud enough for him to hear her speaking to him. “At this point in time I would take something stronger, but water really would help me, I don’t think I have drank that much water all day.”She replied trying to rack her brain about how much she had consumed that night.

Beau pursed his lips, trying to decide if he would make his one grand charitable act of the decade, before rumbling around his pockets to pull out a slender dab pen. Extending it out, he immediately assured her, “It’s legit, by the way. None of that cut with pesticides shit.” He wasn’t sure if that’s what she meant by ‘something stronger’ but at this point, he didn’t care. She could say no and he wouldn’t push it, but it was increasingly rare to find someone in their generation that still had that misinformed fear of weed. “If you meant like, alcohol, I’m sorry. I don’t care that on me.”

[beau-x]

bbywarhol​:

HER EYES HAD BEEN STARING AT HER MUG of coffee for what felt like eternity as her thoughts continued to race, one after another. alex let a breath out, a lazy of a sarcastic laugh. “it’s not as nice as it sounds.” especially when one received almost as much backlash from said legal team for sneaking out as her father gave her. “i’m not sure if that’s a compliment or an insult.” a small smile appeared on her lips, the conversation the closest thing to amusement she had had all day, and it was welcomed. she could use a conversation that was not so horribly serious and more light-hearted. sometimes, it felt like everything was so heavy as a warhol; there was no time to just exist or laugh or relax. and even when she snuck out to have those moments, they never seemed to go according to plan. “but thanks, anyway, i guess.” being oblivious was probably better than being the evil mastermind others believe she (or her father) were. 

          “I remember those days,” he mused, as if reminiscing on a time full of blissful vacations and sixties-esque blind optimism rather than the times he was chased down by his father’s publicist, chugging fifths of Tennessee honey before she could snatch the bottle from him. It’d been over four years now, and after losing his house reelection campaign (to a democrat, at that) his father had all but fallen out of the public eye. The Alexanders were still desperately scratching at relevancy, hoping to someday be able to skyrocket the eldest son into his own political career and leave their youngest a vague memory of rumors of the past. 

          “Knowing nothing is good. Makes it easier to lie to the cops,” he sympathized, having lost his own naivety towards his fathers misdeeds before he was even an adult. “Although, knowing things. That gives you a special sort of power.” He corked a brow, alluding to the inherent sexiness of putting your nose where it didn’t belong. Of course, Alex being involved in her father’s business would have no affect on Beau’s life, so he had no reason to influence her any particular way, but wherever there was rebellion to be fostered in a young, impressionable mind, Beau was there.

[beau-x]

[beau-x]

evrcns​:

“Not you.” Was the raven-haired’s curt, nonchalant retort — this whole thing was a sharp reminder of how, as much as she desired for normalcy in her life, she loathed the mundane customs that tailgated it when it came to socialization. Just when she thought she could have a peace of mind, some time to acquire baked goods for her husband and children, someone was already delivering a remark that was enough to grind her ears and tempted her to pull out artilleries she had kept padlocked in one of those catacomb nooks. To be fair, she hadn’t come here with an intent to act polite either, merely seeking for the things she needed to fetch and then slink back outside without so much as a nod of acknowledgement, but at least she wasn’t attempting to be coarse this time around and this guy was already acting like she’d ruined his day for passing a glance at his beverahe, pondering what it was, centuries of isolation had restricted her from garnering knowledge of the everyday humdrum.

Sne supposed she should become accustomed of the crudeness of some, and she couldn’t help wondering if this was how many of her family members perceived her — aloof, and preferring not to be balked down by tedious conversations; still when it was done to her and she did not have the certain vocalist to leash her backward, it was admittedly difficult to not deliquesce into ancient habits. Get your shit together was a reticent mantra in her head, pulling layers of her bottom lip skin and digging fingernails into her bag. “What is that —” she gradually relented, but prepared to storm out if the situation were to turn awry. “Your drink. Just coffee?” 

Beau’s total interactions with Evren, especially one on one, had been limited. Of course, he had a respect for Cyrek as Stella’s good friend that went unspoken, but had recently been questioned. He didn’t want Cyrek or Evren or Stella to think of him as a total asshole for breaking her heart, but it wasn’t exactly something he could just explain to them. Luckily, Beau had plenty experience with being disliked by people, and he rationalized it was just part of dumpster fire that having to break up with Stella caused.

He could’ve played into the idea of him she likely already had, he could’ve snapped back something unnecessarily nasty or rude, but he couldn’t help but think: what if she reports back to Stella about seeing him? For the time being at least, he couldn’t help but hope she’d convince his ex that he was worth someday returning to. 

          “I’m too broke for $7 coffees. Drip does fine,” he said, after a deep breath and a decently long pause. The irony of the remark, was in the fact that he’d always drank coffee black, and the taste had actually been acquired due to his former elite status, not due to frugality. (A lifetime of imported and expertly roasted beans, ground fresh every morning and brewed by a literal barista on salaried pay in his kitchen had taught him not to ‘tarnish’ the taste with additives.) 

[beau-x]

bxllewvtch​:

The woman was taken aback to be petitioned by such aggression on account of waltzing toward him. Beau was not the most pleasant person she’d ever met, considering he had been prepared to hold onto the Uber he’d called until she was in shambles and blowing out the world’s biggest fucking sob story. In her defense, it had been true, afraid for her sister’s safety and knowing how conniving her parents were. ( To no end had they humiliated the two of them and forced them to endure all kinds of punishment that seldom left physical scars, determined to mold them to the immaculate beings that could uphold their appearance for the sake of their business. ) She recalled him well, from her youth, but she had the sense that he did not remember her with clarity. Anabelle would prefer to leave the past where it belonged and subsequently, she was tranquil to know that whatever image she had boasted back then could not be compared to who she was now. Of course, everyone she had left behind, she had wondered where they were and if they had continued to follow the tracks of their own hierarchy of the family. To see Beau had forged his own was lovely, from afar. A financial struggle built character, in her humbled opinion, but the pink-haired witch had never wanted for much her entire life. She had founded her own wealth with her career and prior to that, she had lived comfortably alongside her late husband who received a penchant worthy of someone who had the kind of dirt on the army that the government would not wish to hear and then some. 

Entering the coffee shop, she had the intent to collect a coffee and head out the door to drive to her restaurant and prepare the inventory and then sort the finances at her club. On Sundays, the doors to Hell’s Kitchen were closed, but the woman had sought different methods that would balance her workload now that she had completed her stint in rehabilitation. She had been working on her time management skills, thanks to the plan, and checking in with a sponsor as part of her legal agreement. Unfortunately, running around with three children and a wife who needed a sort of face-to-face therapy to recalibrate her speech skills left her with little time to attend an NA meeting. Transitorily, she had glanced in the direction of the patrons seated in the dining area and upon a whim, she had approached the familiar face. Yes, she had learned of Stella’s breakup — the girlfriends were in on it, hearing from Lucy that her girlfriend had reached out in need of a place to stay. However, unlike most women might, Anabelle hadn’t the heart to display animosity toward the man for what he had done. ( Her own opinions could be kept to herself, and it was too messy to get involved in the middle. ) “Wow, I thought you would be happier to see a friendly face.” Was this Beau showing his true colors without a girlfriend to prop him up? “Ya got somethin’ against the sun?” Smiling warmly, she raised her cup of vanilla cappuccino. “Do you want company? Looking kind’a lonely, honey.”

Beau groaned aloud, ever the charmer in social situations with acquaintances. Rubbing his forehead in an attempt to ease his pounding head from either the hangover from last night or the come down from this morning, he gathered the conversation ability to respond to the girl. 

          “It’s called solitude, it’s a virtue,” he quipped, blind confidence in his statement conveyed through his tone, even though somewhere in the back of his fairly-educated mind he questioned the validity of his claim. He seemed to recall a 200-level ethics class from college where they discussed the theory of virtue ethics. 

         “Please, Anabelle, I’m a creature of the night. I’m the exact type of person they’re trying to piss off with this curfew,” a statement that rang even more true than intended. He was only trying to imply that he was the shady type, with not a space bigger than a quarter on his skin that wasn’t covered in ink and any number of illegal paraphernalia on his person at that very moment. But it was equally true that he was literally the type of person the curfew was for, trying to suppress the activity he and many others were involved in after the sun goes down. He lifted his hands in a mocking way, with an old-school vampire movie impression crying, “Oh no! The sun, it burns!” 

After his dramatic outburst, he slammed his palms on the table with slightly more force than called for. His face, full of faux-emotion dropping to stone in sync with his hands. “I’m not lonely, I’m thriving actually,” he sarcastically claimed, but then gestured towards the empty seat across from him as to demonstrate that she was welcome to sit, although he’d never admit it verbally. 

[beau-x]

words to live by

[beau-x]

Beau had never been a morning person. A morning foods person, of course, but awake before noon? Never. That was before the curfew, at least. Now if he wanted to get any work done, or get any money made, he had to at least attempt to spends some time in the daylight. 

It would take a lot more than coffee right now to get him to be in a chatty mood. And he could very easily arrange that. And might soon.

“I wish I had a fancy legal team to answer all my questions for me,” he snarked. Of course, he had one at once, but that was long gone, along with the designer clothes and fancy cars. “Don’t flatter yourself, Warhol, I’m not going to interrogate you. Not that I think you know anything.”

[ location ; desert wind coffee roasters ]

FORGET WHAT YOU SAW AND PRETEND IT NEVER HAPPENED. if you change the reality of what happened in your head, it’ll make everything easier. the advice her father gave her repeated in her head. her brain was somehow in overdrive and empty as she sat at the coffee shop, not wanting to go home yet. at least the coffee house was open in the early morning for those who actually had to get up for work. in the wee hours of the morning, alex sat at a table by herself, finger tracing the top of her coffee mug, caramel macchiato having gone chill probably half an hour earlier. when she felt the presence of someone behind her, she sighed and didn’t even turn around before saying, “i’m not making a comment. you can speak to warhol’s legal team, if that’s what you’re after.” the last thing she needed was another person from the press coming to ask her for a statement, as if the youngest warhol would be trusted with such things. she was given other tasks to take care of. 

[beau-x]

Do you want kids? If so: which would you prefer: having a baby without a partner or a partner without a baby?

Absolutely not. The ethics of procreation are spotty as is, but my bloodline in particular needs to die with me. 

[beau-x]

What is a relationship deal-breaker for you?

A moral development stage below 5.

[beau-x]

If you could marry anyone in the world, who would it be and why?

Dua Lipa, hands down. She’s fucking hot. And rich.  

[beau-x]

What do you use to cope when you're feeling uncomfortable?

Depends what type of uncomfortable, you know? Depressed, weight of the world shit, that’s opioids. Anxiety, thinking too fast, that’s marijuana. Different strokes for different folks, right?

[beau-x]

Were you shaken up by all the chaos in town square or did you manage to make it out with nothing too severe?

I’ve seen worse. And I might be a string bean of a man but I can hold my own, okay?

[beau-x]

If you could have the wealth you had when you were younger being a politician's son and none of the strings attached, would you take it?

Is this a trick question? Of course I would take the money. I would take the money with strings attached.