Are you a monk? César wanted to ask, but he couldn’t find the tone to make the question feel serious enough. Well, he was curious, he wanted to know if Tate’s… ability to see and interpret everything through kind lenses was natural, or an exercise to something bigger. Maybe he wanted to be a priest when he was little, César thought, looking at Tate’s face and noticing – for the very first time – how beautiful he was. I’m drunk, he thought next. “ I sure hope not cuz I don’t wanna see people ruining their fun. ” He rolled his eyes, hating on people who tried to separate fights. “ I mean, look, ” Index finger pointed to the person on the right, the one who was talking lots and screaming bits – LIAR, HOW DARE YOU?, HOUSE –, César snorted, shaking his head. “ What if they, person a, caught person b, ” His finger moved towards the other direction, finding the new target. “ Cheating inside their home? Maybe a threesome? Or worse, maybe cheating plus stealing some shit? That’s nasty work, and b has a nasty worker face. ”
。:゜᪤。 event # 𝟎𝟎𝟏 — in celebration . ⭑𓂃 feat. @luckmagnets :
He should place a bet, or grab his camera. The interaction between those two strangers was escalating quickly enough: conversation to discussion to maybe-a-fight?, and César had no idea about how to act. It wasn’t his business anyway, too high to even think about himself and how the fuck am I going home again?, he should not bother about others. He should, however, try to find his camera. “ Do you think it’s something personal like,” He started saying to the wind, aware of the company beside him but not enough to remember who it was. “ You cheated on me with my wife, or something very boring like baseball? ” Finishing the water inside his cup, César looked to his left, blinking slowly – and very confusingly – at Tate. “ Oh, hey. It’s you. ”
。:゜᪤。 hey, is that radcliff's very own poser ? yup, i'd recognize césar miguel castillo’s face anywhere. if you twisted my arm and asked me to describe them, i’d say they’re incredibly charming, leery, adroit, impulsive, and they always seem to be carrying around a very full keychain for some reason. kind of weird, right ? when they hit play on their walkman, you just know it’s abuso de autoridad by three souls in my mind tickling their eardrums — a creature of habit, maybe ? they have the same peculiar energy as a toy you carried around everywhere when you were little ; quivering your upper lip in disgust ; a swear word escaping your mouth mid argument ; lying to your own mother ; the sound of a nearby train passing and work at scratch that with all the other losers. shit ! that’s them … i guess they’re about to clock in for their dreadfully long shift. well, good luck to ‘em ...
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⋆. hometown : terlingua, texas. d.o.b : august 1, 1957. age : twenty-six. pronouns : he / him. scratching that for + than a year & a half. fc : taylor zakhar perez.
⋆. the true main suspect in a horror movie, maybe the ginger snaps itself. or just… richard cameron from dead poets society. perhaps heather duke from heathers ? oh, as a song ? i started a joke by the bee gees… and private eyes by daryl hall & john oates is on queue, for sure.
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hobbies, skills, habits, talents, mannerisms :
likes to learn things for its own sake and to show off to other people ; pulls the hair on his nape when stressed or anxious ; know too many party tricks ; rolls a perfect blunt ; draws a perfect square with no ruler ; had a horse as a pet ; knows how to play bass ; is his brother’s sponsor at NA ; certified liar ; speaks spanish and spatim (spanish + latin, made by him and his brother&sister) fluently ; college dropout (and he does not miss law) ; great driver ; is allergic to bees.
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what is césar’'s fav perfume ? andron for men by jovan + obsession by calvin klein.
what items can be found in césar’s pockets ? big ass keychain, a pocket knife, a funky looking lighter, sticking-plaster scooby-doo themed.
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he’s always saying : “actually, this has nothing to do with me” \ “yeah, well, believe me or not, that’s your choice to make” ;
lie most likely to tell : everysingleone “yeah, i’m pretty sure i told you that, like, days ago” \ “sure, but the thing is… i heard this rumour…”
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Standing 6'5" tall, this tanned skinned man has piercing hazel eyes, long eyelashes, small lips, small ears and thick eyebrows. His short hair is black, wavy, sometimes un-styled, and his seven o'clock shadow is often making an appearance.
He has long legs, a slender neck, defined abs, and lots of body hair. He has a tattoo on the palm of his hands and another on his left thigh. A particularly notable feature is his crooked smile and expressive eyes. He has a noticeable scar on his shoulder;
He often wears nice, fitting clothes that are mostly colourful; black, blue, red and green are easy finds in his wardrobe. He is usually seen wearing a chain necklace with the letter M, or a rosary, dark boots and a (broken) watch on his wrist.
the curse is lifted! you are no a beast no more! congratulations! but you'll never forget the way they looked at you, will you.
TAYLOR ZAKHAR PEREZ | Only Natural Diamonds
。:゜᪤。 event # 𝟎𝟎𝟏 — in celebration . ⭑𓂃 feat. @rodecstcr :
“ Sooo… Do you want to try this or…? ” César gestured to the cat, his suspicious – but very sleepy – eyes taking a peak of the two humans in front of him. “ He seems very chill and approachable right now. Does he hate you? Because he likes me, huh, most of the time. ” It was true. Garfunkel liked to listen to César’s whispers about some clients and loved the treats the man provided in secret. In fact, César wished to have some treats right now. A pic for a treat, would that even work? “ You try to hat him and I take the photo? ” He had the Spectra on one hand, the weird hat on the other, the two decisions being offered but only one being begged: please, grab the hat. “ Or do you want to, I don’t know, let rock, paper, scissors be our fate? ”
。:゜᪤。 open starter — at : break room . ⭑𓂃
Something’s wrong. Maybe it’s the new sugar Clementine got, or is the mug? He should've stuck to his old mug, but he just couldn't find it. Who could he blame then? Emilio, probably, since César saw the preppy asshole eyening the mug with a sort of… desire. Desire to steal. Drinking the coffee again, César felt the urge to scream. What the fuck is wrong with it? He looked to the left, spotting the first person to walk in the break room. “ I need you. ” He voiced, serious as ever. “ Can you taste the coffee I made and explain to me what the fuck is wrong with it? It’s not as good as it should be. Something terrible happened. ”