The X-Files 1.01 | "Pilot"

｡:゜᪤｡ 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. ”

𝐶. ,

｡:゜᪤｡ 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 ...

-`ᯤ´-

⋆. 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.

-`ᯤ´-

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.

-`ᯤ´-

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.

-`ᯤ´-

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…”

-`ᯤ´-

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.

Ted Neeley as Jesus and Carl Anderson as Judas Jesus Christ Superstar (1973), dir. Norman Jewison Original lyrics by Tim Rice 

GLEN POWELL and DAISY EDGAR-JONES | HOT ONES VERSUS

bonus:

ainslie hogarth, motherthing

｡:゜᪤｡ event # 𝟎𝟎𝟏 — in celebration . ⭑𓂃 feat. @applecrumb :

The crowd was attentive as ever, eyes following the three cups, mouths shutted in a thin line. César could feel the tension building up everytime he dared to make a move, just to go back with his wrist, putting cup B back in place and moving cup C instead.  It was a silly game, really, one he pulled out during family gatherings to entertain his younger cousins, to keep the kids away from the pool for a couple of minutes after lunch. Usually the prize was very modest: a five dollar bill, a chocolate bar, or a very popular favourite, one package of strawberry gum.  Adults, however, played for fun. Or frustration. Nobody was able to guess at the sixth try, and César gave up, laughing and surrendering himself. “ Look, I tried my best to make it easier for you guys… ” Three people started chanting then, asking for another chance, just one more, seven is my lucky number, man!, but César moved on, taking the cup A and cup B to be his companion near the mini fridge.  He held the two cups and his hip flask, taking a sip from it, but not daring to make a face. “ New game, friends! YOU! ” Index finger pointed to a random man sitting on the couch. “ Will guess what drink I made for cup A and cup B, and, oh, yeah, this time there’s a prize… ” He took another big sip, still not telling how strong that unknown drink was. “ And I will keep it a secret, but just know I’m wearing it, so, good luck. ”  Beer! “ Both cups? ” Yeah! “ Wrong. ” Beer and water with… sugar? “ Wrong.” Beer and beer with coke? “ Which kind of coke…? No, wrong! ” And so on. “Ok, next one to get it wrong will owe me a favour or ten bucks, I don’t care. TRY harder, people! ”

i once turned into a bat and flew home from the club

｡:゜᪤｡ 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. ”

love elizabeth s.