not what you'd expected

castor choi. ravenclaw. 21. third upper. "ne puero gladium. calamus gladio fortior."

[crxcas]

— an exception.

[crxcas]

crxzach

( . . . ) Oblivious to how intimidating his figure could be, Zach flinched in return when the boy below him jumped, but the words that came out of the other’s mouth provided a very stark contrast to their reaction. “O-oh,” Zach instinctively crouched down, ignoring the slight twinge in his calf as he squatted beside the other, eyes now fixed on the boy’s face rather than his reading material. “Sorry, I didn’t realise the sun was behind me.” A slight pause, allowing for the beginnings of a friendlier smile to spread across his lips. “What are you reading? It looked like you were really into it.”

castor stares at the newcomer for quite sometime—dark eyes questioning, curious. even if he is a slight bit miffed at the interruption, he doesn't mention it. he reminds himself that there's no reason to be fearful on the grounds of hogwarts. hardly anything bad happens to him here. he takes in the apology and watches as the other boy smiles at him and blinks—seldom people approach him, let alone smile at him. he briefly considers the option of the other harboring hidden motives, but the suspicion quickly dies down at the mention of his book. "oh." he glances down at the book in his hands before looking back to the other boy's face.

"i was going over the complete history of azkaban." he explains flipping the book closed—though he secures his spot by shoving his thumb in between the pages—to take a quick glance at the cover. yes, that was exactly what he'd been going through for the past two hours. the ravenclaw can't help but raise a brow at himself. truthfully, he's not sure why he decided to go with this book in the first place when looking for something to read. but then again, the way he did go about choosing the book was strange itself—spinning three times with his eyes closed and then grabbing whatever his eyes landed on first did have unwarranted effects at times.

he shrugs nonetheless before opening the book back to his saved page. "it's just something to pass the time." he tacks on a little absentmindedly with a hum before peering back at the stranger again. "is that all you wanted to know?" he questions with a tilt to his head. "or is there anything else that i could help you with?"

[crxcas]

— reparo.

[crxcas]

crmalcolm:

( . . . )

stroking his chin in what he assumes is an intellectual manner, malcolm leans forward and squints at the board. his previous strategy was to eliminate all the pieces he could as quickly as possible… which led to him losing, so maybe he needs to do something a little different. alright. maybe instead he can—no, no, no. that won’t work either. the awkward back and forth of malcolm reaching for a piece before thinking better of it and pulling away continues on for several more minutes until he finally screws his eyes shut and moves on instinct. “okay! going for it!”

malcolm opens his eyes slowly and stares at the board. nothing really happens except his bishop moving somewhere else and, uh, does that mean something? “did i get it? did i win?” he asks, looking at castor hopefully. a full on, bright-eyed, puppy dog look of desperation and pleading. please, he wants to win so bad.

(the fact that he has castor in check at the moment is complete and utter coincidence).

the game drags on for quite some time much to his dismay and castor thinks that perhaps if there's anything that could make him lose his usual stoic composure, it's this. it's the god-awful and maddening idea that if malcolm does not win, then he'll be stuck at this board until he does. (although he admired and respected the gryffindor's determination, he was not looking forward to another who-knows-how-many rounds of wizard chess.)

had malcolm not made the move when he had, then the gryffindor would have earned the title of the, "the guy who made castor lose his cool during a wizard chess match." that surely would have made lines in the school's newspaper.

the ravenclaw holds his breath when his friend finally moves a piece and what a glorious move it is. though he doesn't show it, castor is more than ready to lose at this match—it's a strange conversation that he'll have with friday or nathaniel or avery sometime later when they find out because they are bound to hear about it later. he can already imagine the inquisitive looks of his fellow ravenclaws and well, he imagines that the explanation won't take too long with his usual—and blunt—way of speaking.

he stares at the board for a minute when malcolm places him in check. "almost." he offers simply and quietly. just one more move and you win, malcolm. "you might just win this time." you will if i have anything to do with it. castor doesn't say anything else as he moves another piece—another useless one—elsewhere pretending to be oblivious to the fact that he's about to lose. his king is completely defenseless and malcolm has every right to take advantage of that. he prays that he does. "your turn, again."

[crxcas]

— run, run, run.

[crxcas]

crfriday:

( . . . )

“cassy—” the younger tugs him back slightly, brows knitted in worry. her eyes, however big, however glassy, conveys exactly what its intended to as “windows” to the soul. as an indication of the fine words friday in frazzled state is unable to properly enunciate.

“what if he’s really hurt? i mean it could’ve been a joke—” her fingers find his wand arm, gripping onto a tightly clenched fist as she speaks, voice thick with uncertainty. “maybe should we go back?”

oh, you useless silly thing, friday.

her words register in his head and he almost stops—almost. the feel of her hand gripping one of his—the one that houses his wand—makes him want to hesitate. the girl he'd met during his second year, young, kind, gentle, and soft—too soft for this world—had managed to sneak her way under his skin. had managed to insert herself into the quiet realm of which he lived and brighten it up. friday was the closest person that he had to a little sister. she is among the few that he'd do anything for. he feels his grip on her wrist tighten a little and he grits his teeth.

"if that's their idea of a joke, it's sick and twisted, and they need better material." he calls back darkly. especially with everything that's gone on in the past few weeks. considering that this wasn't his first encounter with the dagger, being overly cautious wasn't out of bounds for him.

his eyes widen a fraction at the mention of going back. in another time, in another place, he'd smile at her for being so caring. he'd nod along and happily join her in her quest to heal and help. but now was not the time. not with what was at stake. "friday!" he raises his voice at her—he doesn't mean to, but he does. he'll apologize later. "now is not the time to save the world!" the words come out harsher than he intends—he'll apologize later. he needed to get them to safety first—to get her to safety first.

he continues to drag her along behind him. they turn a corner and make it to the seventh floor's left corridor minutes later. he doesn't say anything else or slow down until he comes up to an unseeming wall. he quickly glances back—looking way past friday—to see if they're still on their tail and they're not. it's only then that he lets go of her wrist—it must be aching by now.

castor moves fast. crosses the space back and forth, three times—as strange as it may have seemed. all the while, he mentally chants, "a safe space for friday and i, where mother's followers cannot go." it's a panicked and desperate plea and it works. within seconds, the door materializes and he ushers the girl inside, slamming the door shut behind him.

[crxcas]

you: surprise motherfucker

me, an intellectual: unforeseen oedipus

[crxcas]

— run, run, run.

@crfriday:

keep running. keep running. keep running.

he chants the words frantically inside his head as he drags the younger ravenclaw behind him, his hand clasped tightly around her wrist. he’ll apologize to friday later for the rough treatment, but for the time being, he just needed to get them to safety. he navigates the deserted corridor looking for any doors—for any sort of escape.

he doesn’t dare look back out of fear of stumbling over the cobblestone walkway—he can’t afford to—but he knows that they’re behind them. he can hear them calling after them—demanding that they give in and accept “mother’s love”. their footsteps seem to echo louder in his ears that the beating of his heart.

he mentally curses himself for not realizing the threat earlier—for not taking in the glazed look in their eyes, the misplaced smiles on their faces, the strange behavior. they had approached him and friday earlier while they were walking back to the ravenclaw common room—everything had been strangely quiet then, but he hadn’t thought anything of it. his mind too wrapped up in the silly conversation he was having with the younger. he’d only reacted when one of them had made a grab for the girl out of nowhere—a burst of magic sending them flying backward before he grabbed friday by the wrist and took off.

now here they were, running for their lives, mind racing for any sort of quick escape. he’s navigated the castle a million times over, he knows it’s layout like the back of his hand. and then he remembers where they are. the seventh floor—they need to get to left corridor, it’s not that far away. “come on.” he calls over hurriedly to the girl behind him. he tugs her a little harder.

[crnate-deactivated20220515]

INSOMNIA 2: RESSURECTION

[crxcas]

crnate:

( . . . ) He mumbles the apology without making eye contact with the sudden second presence. “I’ll move in a bit once the movie is over, but…” He tacks on an unspectacular excuse at the end, his body slumping to the ground where he sprawls out to get a better view of the projection on the domed ceiling - and, additionally him. A familiar face, a friend, even. It’s a lie to say he isn’t relieved to see his proclaimed insomnia buddy sneaking into the common room.

“You can join me or whatever if you want though, Cas. I’m glad it’s you. I’m watching uh…“ He narrows his eyes. "2001: A Space Odyssey.”

a little while earlier, he’d attempted to talk himself into staying in for the night—told himself that he would not go on a midnight adventure into the forbidden forest, wouldn’t trapeze down to the great lake for a late night swim, wouldn’t go down to the kitchen for a after supper snack. but he hadn’t realized that he’d been talking aloud much to the chagrin of his roommates. two cushions to his head later, castor decided to that it’d be best for him to tire himself out elsewhere.

he’d grabbed his wand, a worn novel, and draped his favorite threadbare blanket over his shoulders before left. however, just before he closed the door on his way out, with a flick of his wrist, he launched the two cushions back at their respective owners with enough force to knock them out of their beds.

he stood outside the door to the chamber, a glimmer of a smile appearing on his face at the muffled cursing and frustrated shouts of his name. “it was rude of you to throw them at me in the first place.” he murmurs simply before walking away. barefoot and aimless, he makes his way to the common room without much thought.

when he enters, he’s not surprised to see nathaniel sprawled out on one of the many seats the room has to offer. wordlessly, he approaches his friend and sits himself down beside him when his fellow night owl acknowledges his presence. “i kept talking out loud so they told me to get out.” he remarks in explanation as he brings his knees to his chest so that he can rest his chin on them. “sounds interesting.” he deadpans tilting his head to get a better look of the projection himself. “and i’m being sincere.” he adds quickly after so that he’s not misunderstood. “what’s it about?”

[crxcas]

— noctivagus.

[crxcas]

crxavis:

( . . . ) when she reaches the west stairwell she sees him leaning against the wall with his nose in a book. the taller boy is clearly visible. “you need to work on your cloaking spells cas.” she whispers from a few feet away. her voice floating just above the buzzing of her own muffliato charm. avis smiles as he looks up from his book and down at her. “let’s take the black lake passage.” she grins even wider. “i’ve got something to show you.”

his owl phone buzzes notifying him and he digs it out of his pocket to read her reply. he raises a brow at the admonishing—or well he sees it as admonishing since he still has trouble translating emotions through text messages—use of the word, “chill”. he wonders if he should message her back, but ultimately decides against it since she’s already on her way. he goes back to his book a minute later humming tunelessly to himself.

it’s a minute after midnight when she arrives. the hushed sentence catching his attention. he looks up from his book to look at her, then down at himself, and then he blinks. “oh..” he trails off in realization. “i wasn’t even trying to cloak myself.” he admits pushing himself off the wall. “too much trouble to do that when you’ve got a good book in your hands.” it’s a lame excuse—a reckless one considering the consequences of getting caught, he’s somewhat aware of that, but he supposes that she’ll have to make due with it. he leans down to pick up his bag, slip his book inside, and then shrugs it back over his shoulder.

“where are we going this time?” he asks, dark eyes curious. this wasn’t their first midnight outing, but he was sure that it would bring along a whole new adventure. his brows raise at the mention of something to see. “are you going to tell me what it is?” he asks as he starts following after the younger. “or am i going to have to wait and see?”

[crxcas]

— alexithymia.

@crxjace:

on some days, castor wakes up with a heavy weight on his chest and a sinking feeling in his gut. he coins these days the “grey days” in his journals, and on these days, everything feels off and he can’t understand why. it’s just that he opens his eyes and all of a sudden, everything feels wrong—the way that he talks, the way that he thinks, the way that he behaves, even the way that he breathes. there’s no logical reasoning behind it—but then again, when has feeling ever had anything to do with logic?

when the ravenclaw woke up this morning, it was still dark out—if he doesn’t spend the night wandering around the castle, he’s usually up before dawn to see the sunrise. but when he blinked the sleep away from his eyes in exchange for the darkness of his dorm room, he could already feel it—the familiar, unwelcomed, and uncomfortable heaviness. he doesn’t go out to see the sunrise. instead, he pulls the covers over his head and curls in on himself. he doesn’t fall back asleep, but instead wracks his brain for answers—he’s done it a million times before. but by the time the sun filters into the room and his roommates rouse themselves awake, hours have passed, and he still doesn’t have the answers he wants—maybe he never will.

he gets out of bed nonetheless and goes about his day—he’s too stubborn to stay in for things like this and also, he’s pretty sure he has an exam today. the grey days are always strange he’s come to find—colors are always dull and conversations are always muted. he navigates through them in a sort of daze and this “grey day” passes by with a blur. by the time supper has finished, he wonders to himself whether or not anyone noticed—he’d gone right up to the astronomy tower right after for some reading, but the book goes unread. instead it rests unopened beside him while he’s got his knees pulled to his chest and his arms crossed on top of them to cradle his head—he stares into space.

he hadn’t breathed a word of it to any of his friends—he doesn’t know how to—but maybe someone caught on to his strangeness? but he’s always been strange, he reasons to himself—offbeat, screwy, freakish, weird- “stop.” it’s a soft command that startles him into awareness—he hadn’t even realized he’d been talking out loud. he lifts his head up to search for the owner of the voice—it doesn’t take long for his eyes to settle on the source. “jace.” he regards the gryffindor with a soft call of his name. “what are you doing up here?”

[coruscorp-blog]

EMOJI HEADCANONS

🤬  –– Do you curse a lot? How often? What are some of your favorite swear words? 😳  –– Do you get embarrassed easily? What would you consider your ‘breaking point’ of embarrassment? 🤫  –– Are you able to keep a secret? We all know everyone has a person they tell everything to, other people’s secrets included: who’s that person for you? 🤥  –– How often do you lie? Do you lie to make people feel better? 😴  –– How much sleep do you tend to get every night? How much sleep do you need to function properly? 🤧  –– Do you get sick often? Are you one of those people who get sick but power through it, or do you complain the entire time and not move from the sofa? 👽  –– Do you believe in aliens? Do you believe there could be life on other planets, no matter how small? 🎃  –– What was your first Halloween costume that you can remember? How old were you when you stopped trick or treating? 💍  –– Do you want to get married someday? If you are married, did your wedding go as you imagined it would? 💇‍♀️  –– What’s the most drastic thing you ever did to your hair? What were the reasons behind it ( drunk, getting over a break-up, a dare, etc )? 🤞  –– Do you believe in luck? Do you believe in the usual lucky things ( four-leaf clovers, horseshoes, rabbit foot, etc )? Do you have any unusual things you think bring you luck ( a shirt, hat, book, number )? 👮‍♀️  –– Have you ever had a brush with the law? What had you done, and did you get caught? What were the consequences? 👩‍👩‍👧‍👦  –– What kind of family did you grow up in? Two-parent, single-parent, raised by someone else? How many siblings do you have? Did you have any other type of family in your house all the time? 👙  –– What sorts of things do you do when you go to the beach, or what would you do if you’ve never been to one before? 🌂  –– How do you feel about rain? Do you immediately run for cover or are you okay getting wet while out in it? 👓  –– Do you wear glasses or contacts? How long have you had to, if you do?

[purplebuddhaquotes]

“We are, each of us, a little universe.”

— Neil deGrasse Tyson

[crxcas]

— an exception.

@crxzach:

it’s a nice day to be outside, he thinks. even if he isn’t one for outdoor things like attending quidditch matches, he finds himself outdoors a little more often to get away from the suffocating atmosphere of the ravenclaw house common room. it’s almost laughable—almost. a third of those in his house clamoring and competing for the best marks and then another third going about their days without much care for studying because they’ve got eidetic memories and have already read the material months in advance, and then the final third that are those who don’t really care too much for their grades and would rather live creatively than academically—castor is among the third cluster of students, but only in the realm of reading, writing, painting, and drawing his life away.

with his back pressed into the hollow of a tree in the courtyard, he bides his time with a heavy tome from the library—he devours the information while occasionally nibbling at the snacks he has stored in the bag beside him. the world passes around him as he flips through the pages without much care or thought. nobody comes up to him, nobody bothers him. well, at least not until he’s halfway through the book.

he doesn’t notice at first, the sudden shadow cast over him despite being alone and under a tree—he naively assumes that it’s the clouds until he glances away from the book and sees the hard outline of a figure standing behind him. it surprises him, honestly. he jumps a little and then whips his neck around to be greeted with a much taller, much more imposing figure. he blinks and raises his brow. “you’re blocking my reading light.” he offers monotonously.

[crxcas]

— reparo.

@crmalcolm:

castor stares at the board in front of him for a long time before he makes his next move. though, he’s not thinking about what he should do next in terms of the game—he already knows which piece he should move next in order to win. instead he’s debating the consequences if malcolm loses again. the ravenclaw student discreetly glances over to the gryffindor who refuses to let him walk away from the chess game until he’s won—three consecutive losses on the gryffindor’s part later and castor can safely say that both are slightly frustrated at this point.

if malcom loses, he thinks, then he’ll subject me to another round of wizarding chess. and usually, that wasn’t something that he minded. castor was a rather big fan of the game ever since his actual father introduced it to him—it wasn’t long before the young ravenclaw was beating the elder slytherin over and over and over again, earning himself the title of wizard chess champ, albeit only within their home. but at this rate, he was ready to flip the table over and walk away just because he wasn’t willing to sit through another round of malcolm going after all of his pawns first and ignoring all the other pieces on the board.

after one more minute of deliberation, he finally moves a piece. though rather than taking one of the other’s last pieces, he sets malcolm up to take an important one of his—castor could only pray that the other third year would take the bait though. “your move.” he offers quietly, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back to observe the other’s actions. all the while, he hoped that the game would end soon so that he could go back to his dorm and not think of chess strategies for the next couple of hours—or weeks.

[crxcas]

— noctivagus.

@crxavis:

he hums a soft and pleasant tune as he makes his way to the west stairwell, where avis requested that they meet. wand tucked behind an ear, a content smile plastered across his face, and a knapsack brimming with treats slung over a shoulder, he navigates the deserted hallways without a care as he continues to skim through the worn out novel in his hand—even goes as far to take the liberty of adding to the numerous notes that he’s already written out in the margins. if anyone were to happen upon him, they’d know that the young man was in no rush.

he arrives just minutes within midnight anyway. having snuck out of ravenclaw house roughly an hour before just so that he could venture over to the kitchen to retrieve some snacks, he had enough time to debate whether or not he and avis would need a lot of treats for their late night adventure—also, he couldn’t remember which one was her favorite, so he figured that he’d just fill his bag up with whatever he could find and hope that she liked something in there.

speaking of avis, when castor arrives at the stairwell, the gryffindor girl is nowhere in sight. the ravenclaw looks up from his book to scan the general area, but comes up empty. he shrugs at the fact—it’s not the first time that he’d made it to their meeting place first, it certainly wouldn’t be the last—and strolls over to the nearest wall. dropping the bag of treats to his feet, he leans himself against the wall in waiting and continues to read. before he really delves back into the storyline he has before him, he quickly types out a text to the girl. “waiting,” he mutters softly before hitting send. with that done, he goes back to his book and makes another note.

[crxcas]

— curfew.

@crcwan:

just as he turns the corner, he freezes mid-step the second he comes to find the groundskeeper with their back toward him. the ravenclaw upper year blinks twice before slowly stepping back around the corner. furrowing his brows, he glances over at rowan—his companion for the evening—and blinks again. he then proceeds to peer back around the corner, only popping his head out just a smidge to see if the groundskeeper is still there—and they are. with that affirmation, he nods his head to himself and turns to the girl behind him.

“we should probably head back and go another way.” he deadpans without much explanation. “an unforeseen circumstance has arose and i think it’s in our best interest if we don’t go into that hallway right now.” he continues on as calmly as possible while trying to think of another way to reach the greenhouse within the next hour. without saying much else, he fishes his journal out of his knapsack and flips it open to the page with the campus grounds roughly sketched out—he also plucks his wand out from behind his ear just in case he has to obliviate the groundskeeper.

he scans the page for a moment as he attempts to decide their best next course of action. “there’s another passage over here..” he trails off to himself while pointing to the page. “if we go here and then exit through that hall into there..” he hums before glancing over to the girl. “but that will take too long..” he huffs before glancing back toward the hall they were supposed to go down. “ that was the fastest route, but now we can’t take it because the groundskeeper is there.” he mentions. “or we just have to wait for them to leave?” he pauses before looking over to the girl. “hey. rowan, what do you think?”

[coruscorp-blog]

HEADCANON TIME!

⍤ : What does your muse’s voice sound like? Is it light? High pitched? Scratchy? Deep?

✍ : What is your muse’s handwriting like? Is it neat? Sloppy? Fancy?

☕ : Does your muse prefer coffee or tea?

⌚ : Is your muse good with keeping on schedule for meetings, appointments, or events, or are they always late? Or, are they always a bit early?

♿ : Has your muse had any injuries in the past?

☺ : What is your muse’s smile like? Do they smile often?

⚡ : How does your muse feel about storms? Are they afraid of them, or do they calm them?

⚠ : How does your muse react to possibly dangerous situations? Do they face them head-on, or do they plan out their actions first?

☃  : What is your muse’s favorite season? What about their least favorite season, if they have one?

☂  : Does your muse like rain?

☼ : Does your muse like daytime or nighttime more?

🏨  : How well does your muse sleep?

☘ : Does your muse believe in luck? How about fate?

⚯ : Does your muse have good eyesight? If not, what is it like? Are they nearsighted or farsighted? Or both? Do they use glasses? Or do they prefer contacts?

👓 : If your muse wears glasses, what are their glasses frames like?

♨ : Does your muse have good table manners? How do they feel about bad table manners?

❀ : What is your muse’s opinion about flower crowns?

♬ : Does your muse sing well? Regardless of whether they sing well or not, do they enjoy singing?

♞ : What is your muse’s favorite animal?

εїз : How does your muse feel about bugs and insects?

📱 : Does your muse prefer calling or texting?

☆ : Of the sun, stars, and the moon, which is your muse’s favorite?

ツ : Does your muse prefer lots of friends, or just a few close ones?

✝ : Is your muse religious?

[crxavis]

send me emojis! 

[crxcas]

this is a PLOT CALL. if you'd like to plot with me for my odd son, cas, please like this post! thank you and have a wonderful day!

[crxcas]

hi, hello! call me, ara. i'm new around here- i'll be playing this semi-awkward, semi-sweet ravenclaw babe, cas. ( i just wanted to throw this out here and say thanks to all those who sent out a welcome- ;-; ya'll spammed my inbox so fast, it made my head spin. i've never been a part of such a welcoming community~ ) i look forward to being here with all of you and look even more forward to writing. i also there's not much that you can get out of his biography, but down below is essentially a gist of the wildride that was his adolescence. i only have a plot page up right now, but i'm open to things beyond that. here it is! plot page. feel free to take a look. without further ado, look down below for his tldr past.

— his name is castor obviously. ( call him cas for short. ) — he was brought up in oxford, england by his mother and by his biological uncle. — about that, so his mother and his uncle were both gryffindors- their families arranged for them to be married. BUT his mother had an affair with his father-his uncle's estranged brother-because lol, she was in love with him and that's how castor was conceived. — okay, more on that. so, his family has a habit of being only inclusive toward to gryffindors in attempt to keep their line "pure". ( it's complete bs, but yeah. ) so when castor's real dad was sorted into slytherin, his family disowned him like how castor's not real dad did. — cas didn't even bat a lash when the man "disowned" him or when he found out that he wasn't his real father. ( hc: he figured it out when he was eight. ) — his not dad was a prick tbh. ( forced cas to do a lot of things he didn't want to do. ) — i have an entire headcanon list of what the prick did and will only disclose it to those who ask because it contains a lot of, emotional and psychological abuse. — after his first year at hogwarts, he and his mother moved in with his biological father and let me tell you, it was lit. — jk, they were much more like a family than they were before. and his real dad wasn't a prick. — there's more on that too, but i'll add all of this to his tidbit page or something. now onto some of the weird shit my son does. getting to know castor choi. — ravenclaw and (quitely) proud. — his hooter name is @polluxsucks, only because he's making an obscure reference to the dioscuri in greek myth. ( he giggled a lot while coming up with that. ) — this kid will make a joke about an obscure reference and laugh at it to himself regardless of whether anyone understands it. — #smartbutdoesnttry. his grades are still above average. — if he wants to know something, then he'll go by any means necessary to achieve the information he wants. — night wanderer. sneaks out in the dead of night to either wander around the castle or do something stupid like test out the effects of gillyweed in the great lake or do some light reading up in the astronomy tower. — likes to sing in the shower. — spaces out a lot. — reads ahead during lectures. — doesn't pay attention during lectures, but still knows the answers to questions. — loves writing more than breathing. — has a bunch of journals and will threaten everyone who tries to touch them. — people watching is one of his favorite past times. — doesn't like playing quidditch, but is great at it. ( his not dad forced him to learn to play growing up. ) — a long list of things that remind me of him include rumbled bedsheets. sarcasm. late night conversations. late nights in general. leather bound journals. well-read books. stargazing. pressed flowers. always has a pencil. knowing looks. charcoal covered hands. paint-stained skin. knotted earphones. dusty books. dancing alone. obscure interests. bad jokes. messy hair. sleeping in class. odd views. etc. — there's more, but i'll leave it at that for now. — stay tuned for his updated profile page later.