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WELCOME TO MONLEON:
FULL NAME: Leonel “Leon” Arnaz
OCCUPATION: Jazz Club Owner
AGE & D.O.B.: 40 years old
RESIDENCE: South Poinsettia
ORIGINALLY FROM: Monleon, Florida
HOW LONG THEY’VE BEEN IN TOWN: His entire life
BIOGRAPHY:
TW: old age death, revenge, military.
leon was born into a family of little grandeur and less expectation than the average person born into the sunny monleon part of florida. the son of a gold-digger, who’s real father was always put to question, leon has lived a life of moral fluidity and a dire longing for a life worth living. as a boy, he had lived in the lap of luxury - but neither “father” or mother really cared for what he did. after all, he followed a long line ofthe various sons of albert woodhouse, an old-money business man who had helped monleon attract the stars to their slice of the state. leon’s older brothers were all bred to either get into politics or to inherit the family name whilst his lone sister was prepared only to marry into a high society family.
school wasn an uphill battle, and family life wasn’t much better. his older siblings remained poisoned to their kid-brother; and once the patriarch died due to heart failure they all but cut off both leon and his mother (whom was evidently caught in various legal battles with her step-sons over the lack of inheritance offered to mother and son).without funds and with the ongoing resilience from the rest of the woodhouse family, leon’s mother took him out from the upper class school and instead stuffed him into a state education.
their lives had changed dramatically, leaving mother and son to navigate this new world of coupon vouchers, laundromats and past-their-sell-by-date meals. at eleven years old, leon had his surname changed to his mother’s maiden name - but this transition also helped leon face the reality of life, and what one would have to do to make ends meet. but, when arriving home after skipping his afternoon classes, he was greeted by a man he did not know. his mother, worn by life and the lack of freedom, then had a boyfriend.
he was not a nice man, and would often keep leon at the front door to keep his privacy with leon’s mother. this timeframe that lasted mere months, but left the young boy who only ever felt abandoned, shaken to the core. three months after meeting, he arrived home to an empty house and an empty fridge. the boyfriend, who he has forever sworn revenge, left with leon’s mother to (apparently) the outskirts of las vegas in the hope to collect riches. a haste-doodled letter was left stuck to the dining table; contact this number if you run out of money, and remember to pay the water bill. they had left one hundred dollars in a single envelope and the name of their rumoured hotel scribbled without care. leon was now alone at twelve years old.
one hundred dollars didn’t last for long but leon had always been a resourceful boy. his life of pickpocketing began soon after - often trapping tourists or the wealth with their monleon holiday homes with his sticky fingers and charming tongue. but with mediocre grades he at least was allowed to enrol into college where he studied business. the university of tampa allowed leon to spread his wings, helping him rebuild confidence and awareness to what lay around him. still injured by the disappearance of his mother and the hateful relationship between himself and his siblings, leon used what savings he had managed to persuade the owner of the old and rundown jazz club to pass on the deed to him. slightly in debt, but cultivating a happy exterior, leon came to run the show and continued to work the front bar where he mixed drinks and socialised with old friends - thus becoming a figurehead of monleon.
but he could never be the type of man who was made of gold and good morals, for soon enough he became mixed in with dirty money and stained souls. and though the jazz club continues to be a hive of activity for both the young and old, leon hopes to expand his business through under-the-table deals and perhaps even bribery. and to one day hire a detective, so they may find what happened to his long lost mother.
LEONEL ARNAZ is portrayed by OSCAR ISAACand written by VELVET.
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rosalindevangeline:
as rosalind sipped at her cocktail, she didn’t say a word at the cigarette or its smoke, though she knew nala would give leon a bit of a look about it — well, as much of a look as a dog could give. there was a slight breeze whipping along her bare neck, and rosalind lifted one shoulder into a shrug as she considered his question. “just a taste of monleon, really,” she replied as she thought about the town’s idiosyncrasies and the quirks within the community. she felt comfortable here, even if she was not a fan of the weather.
she hummed lightly. “i’m meeting this guy i’ve been seeing later and he’s new to town, so i thought maybe something that’s just very quintessentially monleon, you know?” even after six months living in the town, rosalind didn’t consider herself a resident so much as she might have in another part of the country. the blonde shook her head before looking back over at leon. “what about you? what are your plans tonight?”
he ignored the dog, for his interest in other beings that relied on a master was enough to leave leon with a vile taste in his mouth - no, pets had never been off interested to the jazz club’s owner. he didn’t wish to trail after shit or to even feed another hungry mouth. so he didn’t look at the pup, and instead looked to the ashtray - as if to mourn the ashes instead.
“you’re seeing someone? jeez, who’s the unlucky guy?” he asked, a brow raised in faux-interest before lowering as his lips picked up into a disguised grin (only hidden by the wave of facial hair, that acted as his mask between reality and his curated exterior). “i plan to work, drink - maybe watch a movie. why? you looking for a third person?”
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“do you know what you want?” he asked, both hands pressed upon the newly freshened bartop. he didn’t know who she was, or if she knew she found herself within the jazz club, but in any case - leon watched; observant, steady and precise. “to drink?” @serena-adair
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“listen, you want my advice?” leon asked - his tongue wetting each worn lip as the resident starlet visited his barely-open club. without her admission, however, leon pressed forth and poured mrs wilde a drink (whiskey, on the house - for now). “if you want to keep the ratings up, hire something pretty and young. no one wants to see mr creep doing the weather.” @qvinnwildc
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though the legal and prestigious owner of monleon’s only jazz club, leon often took on the closing shifts for himself. he left the employees (ranged in age, gender and skill) to do as they would want - this place, built from the ground up, was a part of leon. his blood ran through it... the exterior frame was made of his ribcage; only making way for the expansion of full lungs. leant upon the bar, he watched - his eyes dark and deep, an ever-deepening black submerging the light from within. “you gonna order?” he asked, a brow quirked. “or are you here just to look pretty to wealthy men?” @mia-alvarez
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rosalindevangeline:
setting: january 29, downtown monleon; last fridays with: @leonarnaz
in the six months she’d spent in monleon, rosalind mitchell had become acquainted with quite a few people. leon was one of the few she’d spent a significant amount of time with, though some of that could certainly be attributed to the lowkey atmosphere she craved — and had often found — while at his jazz club.
tonight she held her dog’s leash in one hand and a drink in the other, nala curled up on the patio outside. “i think this is only the second time i’ve actually come downtown for this,” she mused, lips quirked at the corners. “is there anything i absolutely shouldn’t miss?”
leon had owned the club for the last five years of his life - it was at this point a well oiled machine, easily surviving without his experienced touch. but, leon had always preferred the hands-on approach, and loited behind his bar as he took to drying various glasses. with an eye on the door, leon watched and swapped the glass several times before bringing it to his nose to offer one final inspection. it had been a slow late-afternoon, but the party barely ever started till the later hours.
when rosalind had arrived, leon had served her personally, putting aside his duties to sit by her side whilst lighting one of his many cigarettes. his employees would hold the reigns, and if not, they’d have to answer to him. exhaling slowly, leon looked down to check out rosalind’s dog, shifting in his chair - as if the pup was dead set on teaching the jazz club’s owner a lesson. clearing his throat, he held the cigarette between two fingers and tapped the ash into the tray. “dunno, what are you after?”
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full name: leonel arnaz age & dob: 40, july 4th 1980 (cancer) birthplace: monleon, florida occupation: owner of the jazz club sexuality, gender & pronouns: bisexual, cis male & he/him neighborhood:south poisetta how long they’ve been in monleon: his entire life baby faceclaim: oscar isaac
BIOGRAPHY. WANTED CONNECTIONS.
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ʟᴇᴏɴ ᴀʀɴᴀᴢ // tag dump
i. — [ study ] ii. — [ aesthetic ] iii. — [ face claim ] iv. — [ ask meme ] v. — [ headcannon ] vi. — [ insert character ]
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