c a t a l y s t

The moment I realized the time I wasted reading this pathetic request. Try again, asshole.

TASK 005; character sheet

tariq zafir khan

Shout out to my visualization professor. Darlene, if you’re reading this. Call me. We both know you’ve got something I’d much rather visualize.

Nice try, mom.

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big boy mode activated !!!!1!!                                                         [ tagged: @cmoreau ]

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“Stop!” Mateo shouted, sounding every bit like one of those annoying girlfriends who secretly didn’t want their boyfriend to stop when they tried to take pictures of them. Covering his face with his hands at the sudden attention, he let out a long whine until he was sure that Tariq had left him alone, bursting into hysterical laughter seconds later. “I can’t believe you caught me at my worst moment and didn’t even… capture the action! No one’s gonna believe me when I tell them what happened. Thanks a lot, dick breath.” Sitting up from his awkwardly sprawled position, he stuck his tongue out at the one of them standing, a childish display of irritation considering he actually liked Tariq too much to be outright mean to him. “You’re so helpful. I appreciate the helping hand, really,” he mumbled sarcastically, grunting as he slowly pulled himself upright, twisting his back somewhat awkwardly until it let out a loud crack, and he finally relaxed. A somewhat unfamiliar feeling of affection begins to grasp at Mateo once the most of the chaos disperses, showing so by slinging an arm around the other’s shoulders and dramatically dragging out a whiny sentence, all the while clutching at his messy shirt while doing so, “God, Tariq, I could’ve fuckin’ died and you left me like a piece of frozen salmon! Did you hear my back just then! The sound of… a bad tumble. Charlotte Takes A Tumble’s got nothing on me, apparently.”

Eyes squint in minor annoyance at Mateo’s shrill but rather… impressive impersonation. That imitation alone was enough for Tariq to momentarily reconsider his continued interest in bedding similarly airhead-women. A chuckle at well-deserved nickname tossed his way, before going to nearby counter and scooping up a fresh glass of concoction of his own creation for his companion. “Don’t sweat it, shitstain. I’m here all week.” Doc Marten-clad feet shuffle their way back to the soccer forward. Hand adorned with bold jewelry reaches outward to present him a codeine cup, as if alcohol was the only form of apology he knew. In contrast to careless words that continued to fly out his mouth, that is. “Would you look at that,” a roll of his eyes at the other’s childish protests, despite the unwavering grin. “Somehow still unparalleled for the world’s biggest baby, fourth year in a row. Can’t say I’m nearly as concerned for your back as I am your legs, superstar.” A brief pause as he studies the other momentarily, before giving himself a minor affirmative nod. “Could still find a way to keep you in the game on Saturday, y'know. Maybe have you Naruto run the ball across the field into overdrive.” Upon Mateo tossing an arm over Tariq’s shoulder, the male fights against the instinct to shrug it off, how he would had it been almost anyone else. Drink of a matching color to Mateo’s new one seeps past pink lips and is quickly downed in an easy gulp. A part of him was almost jealous that he hadn’t quite reached Fernandez’s level just yet. “Ronaldo? Shaking.”

Rolling an unlit cigarette between her fingers, Bea was leaning against a wall and steadily working on a cup of straight tequila as music thudded around her, curly dark hair splayed over her shoulders. “I think I’m being haunted,” she started, speaking to the person closest to her. “My cigarettes keep disappearing. Unless I’m smoking them all when I’m drunk, it’s definitely a nicotine-addicted ghost snatching them. Want one?” 

“Shit, which spirit did you tick off with a Ouija Board?” A light laugh emits from pink lips at her theory, as brows furrow with mild interest. Unless I’m smoking them all when I’m drunk... A playful roll of his eyes in return as a hand digs into his pocket. “Man, you make it so easy that it’s not even fun anymore.” One side of his lips tugs upward at her inquiry, before pulling out the Marlboro box he’d previously swiped from her and handing it out for her to take back. Only because she’d offered him one, this time. “How charitable.”

much to lottie’s disgust she was at this party, her intentions totally innocent as she only wanted to meet people and figured this may be the best way. currently she was rethinking how this would make her friends as she got trapped on a couch between two pairs getting rather handsy over each other, her green eyes scanned the room searching for someone to help her frantically as she felt like the most awkward fifth wheel ever. locking eyes with a random and hoping they see her pain and free her from the mess that she was in.

Nothing short and nothing more than a little snicker into his glass, upon his attention landing on the blonde unfortunately stuck between two couples beginning to get rather frisky. Finally giving into better judgement for perhaps the first time in a while, the male lifts an index finger as if to beckon her over from across the room. Raven-haired male promptly begins to turn on his heel and weaves effortlessly through bustling crowds, making a beeline for the kitchen. Seconds pass and he could hear the heels of her shoes clicking behind him into the somewhat less deafening room. Lighter lifts to ignite the end of his cigarette, while an amused grin threatens to tug at pink lips. “You should’ve joined them.”

she never knew how she found herself in these types of situations, no matter what she always said yes. it didn’t matter who the person was she was always the person who was so down to help whoever, “listen not that i don’t like spending time with you, but the next time you say ‘hey wanna help with something fun’ don’t count me in?” she huffed though she knew if she had been asked again she would most definitely say yes once more. “how does this deal with your class again? am i’m missing something?” 

“Oh, easy.” Tariq nonchalantly toys with a couple of liquor bottles, before ultimately being stuck between jager and absinthe. Hand reaches for the green bottle, before studying it briefly. Whoever told Tariq to mix the jungle juice obviously didn’t have the crowd’s best interest in mind. “Chemistry experiment. You take a sip, and tell me how much more absinthe I need to add before you start seeing Uncle Freddie in the kitchen.” He pours Nova a full glass of the completed mixture, before taking the codeine sat on the counter beside him and pouring far too generous of an amount into the bin. Think of it as his token of being nice to the girl after having still helped out. “Alright. Drink up, test monkey.”

RY: i had water in my cup and people kept asking why i wasn't drinking

RY: so i poured apple juice in here

RY: do you think anyone will notice?

TARIQ: chances are you could've just gotten away with water if you told them it was vodka

♔ AESTHETICS; ΔΨΒ / ΣΕΧ PARTY ☞ tariq khan

Honeyed irises examine an exquisite looking lamp, running over every etched and colored detail visible to the naked eye. It stood tall and proud, much how he’d imagined the lamps in his father’s study to look like to this day. Delta Psi brother couldn’t say he’d ever gotten a proper look around inside the Kappa Theta house, before Cam and his spontaneous little visit. An idea stirred upon one too many hits of cannabis, perhaps. But what with Tariq’s knack of picking locks and Cameron’s surprisingly remarkable stealth, it hadn’t taken long — and much less of a mess than he’d imagined — to slink their way into the prestigious household.

Another couple blinks in his sativa daze, before a single finger lifts and pushes the ornate light-source off the eggshell podium it once sat on. Porcelain and glass meet marbled floor with a thundering crash, now leaving behind an unfazed Tariq to stand over what are now uneven shards littered across the floor. “Oops,” a barely audible mumble, mischief sparkling in his eyes upon coyly landing on his chosen and literal partner in crime for the night.

“OMG, I just saw this documentary on snake breeding. They bred an enchi banana cinnamon pinstripe ball python to a black-eyed leucistic ball python!” Shaina rushed her words out over-excitedly. No sane human could possibly understand what she could be talking about, and she knew it. “The combinations in the babies are endless!” Her nose scrunched up in excitement, imagining all the baby snakes. “They could get black-eyed enchi pinstri–hey. Are you listening?” She often noticed people zone out when she rambled on like this. “This is big news!”

Tariq snaps out of his trance, glancing up from his phone for the first time during her little monologue. He hadn’t even realized when he stopped paying attention – if he’d ever started. “Oh, you’re still talking? Lost me at OMG,” a lackluster impression of the way she spelled out the abbreviation. Though in his midst, caused him to fight back an involuntary cringe. “But I recall something about... balls and black after that? Not a problem. I’ve got a few guys in my contact list who’d be right up your alley.” Head tilts back as he studies the blonde, coy smile growing at the unspoken punchline at hand. He figured she’d attempt to either start her little factoid over or ramble further if he allowed her the chance, so thick fingers adorned with bold jewelry simply wave off the topic with an airy nonchalance. “But no need to repeat yourself. I ignored you just fine the first time.”

Standing on the top of an already visibly suffering coffee table, Mateo’s head poked above the crowd as he scanned through the party for someone he knew. He hadn’t even made eye contact with the sorority girl that was calling to him from the other side of the room, only noticing her after she’d made a bee line towards him and moments before she tried to climb on top of the table to join him. “Woah, woah -,” he started, feeling the table tremble underneath the added weight. However, he never got to finish his sentence, cut off when the solid table beneath his feet let out a loud crack and split in the center. Letting out a yelp as he tumbled to the ground gracelessly, Mateo automatically reached forward to grab something to keep him on his feet, however he just managed to awkwardly slap someone’s arm, his drink splashing all over them and himself. Groaning from his spot on the ground as he wiped at his now wet face, Mateo let out a feeble cough after catching his breath from being so winded, blinking up at the person he’d all but assaulted, “God. Man down. What the fuck was that? Did you see that? Someone wants me dead.”

“Obviously I didn’t pay them enough to actually go through with it,” a mumble under his breath, as he picked at the soiled fraction of his shirt which now clung to his side in a disconcerting manner. The new stench of mixed alcohol didn’t take long to hit his nose, promptly cuing the senior to peer over his shoulder at a very intoxicated Mateo sprawled not far from his foot. Upon finding a familiar yet dazed visage now hilariously proximate to the floor, Tariq couldn’t help but draw his phone from his back pocket and open up Snapchat immediately. “Oh, this is fucking gold. You can call it even now, by the way — you do still have all your teeth, don’t you?” A laugh escapes upon his last two words, before going to post the story and putting his phone back into his pocket. He takes another moment to dissect what’d just happened, hazel irises volleying between broken wood, a blacked out female, and the icing on the cake, fellow soccer player who’d taken a rather remarkable fall from grace. Perhaps if Tariq hadn’t finished his weed supply before the party, he’d be far more irked by what had just unfolded. Patience rushes through him much like a foreign warmth, while head tips in the slightest at Mateo somewhat recovering from his uncourtly tumble. “Alright, trooper. Might wanna get yourself back up before I rescind my truce and begin practicing the backheel with your sopping head.”

Ryland knew practicing with Tariq was probably one of the best ways to work on his skills - but he admired the other’s soccer abilities, which made the whole thing a little bit intimidating. Especially when his kick had gone off so wildly and narrowly missed hitting the other’s leg. “ – Right. I mean, we both know I’m a lot better at blocking the ball, as opposed to kicking it; why do you think i’m out here practicing?” He gave a shrug of his shoulders but nodded, “Noted, though. No yellow-cards and no Sanchez.” He watched as the ball was returned to starting position, before giving it another shot; this time adjusting the position of his foot as he kicked the ball - and was excited to see it didn’t head right towards Tariq this time.

Upon soccer ball swiftly advancing towards the intended target this time, Tariq darted across the field before kicking it into the respective goal. Angle shot. Seeing that Ryland already remained unparalleled as far as blocking goes, the two continued to brush up on his kicking, should he use it in their upcoming games. Hands find themselves at the slim of his waist as he stops to catch a breath after several reps, lazily making his way back to fellow teammate in contrast to how he’d been sprinting across the field seconds prior. Ryland working on his footwork truly proved both an effective practice session and workout, though Tariq would more often than not choose to stifle this sliver of information from the other. “Alright, good shit. Take five,” a little clear of the throat, as the senior’s eyes now narrow to shield honey irises from the sun. The sweat that had gathered upon thick brows is now brought to the senior’s attention as he uses the upper half of his shirt to wipe at any more droplets that may have trickled down olive visage. “Your form looks better than yesterday. Power and control have improved in those last runs, but you still need to work on your speed.” He now fixes his shirt back into place again, before heading after the soccer ball and pensively searching for an optimal area to reposition it. Not that their little break was over yet, but Tariq had something else in mind. “A faster goalie means that we can try more long passes in future plays,” he continues to mumble, ultimately deciding on a spot half-way of the goal and center-circle.

“Look, unless you’ve got something actually interesting to talk about, I’m not interested in what you have to say.” Jasmine said, looking over to the person who was heading in her direction. She wasn’t entirely sure if the person had even planned on talking to her, but Jasmine was bored and wanted to get into some trouble.

A laugh escapes Tariq’s lips as he carries on to his destination past the other. Though it easily could’ve seemed like he was headed her way for as long as he’d been walking, what with her loitering outside coffee-shop doors. “Please, do tell what part of me looked like it wanted to hold a conversation with you.” Honey irises shift up from his phone for the first time, evidently unfazed by her icebreaker of choice. Mildly amused, at best. A cloud of smoke inconsiderately ghosts her way from poison lips as towering frame stalks past her petite stature. “Quite frankly a pitiful attempt at getting someone to look at you. If it’s attention you want that badly, perhaps panting and wagging your tail would prove much more efficient.”