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Post by BLAINE CHANNING on Oct 7, 2011 19:01:09 GMT -5
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What was this? Settled among heaps of books and paper, spread out on the table with his forehead resting against the flesh of his arm was a certain mister Blaine Channing, resident potion master and lazy bum teacher at Hogwarts. An ink dipped quill was in his hand, following it a strange doodle on the paper majority of his worn out body was hunched over, it looked as if his hand had involuntarily moved creating ugly marks of ink, and how true it was. Habitually, or unconsciously, his body would twitch every few minutes snapping the quill across the paper creating several more of those funny marks of which he would later scratch his head about trying to decipher, because why would he write them down if he weren’t meant to read them later?
Yes, his handwriting was simply that messy that he couldn’t tell the difference between it and some random marks created by a sleep deprived and sore werewolf the day after the full moon. Oh indeed, it had just been full moon, a fact he was sorely reminded of every time he as much as thought about moving his aching limbs.
Blaine was an avid, meticulous brewer of the wolfsbane potion, but even if his mind retained its human consciousness his body would not just magically adapt to being broken down and rebuild over the span of a few minutes. It hurt, it was unbearable and it didn’t get the slightest bit easier with each time, if anything it wore his body down more and more, gradually rendering a perfectly healthy young man to a scarred up and worn out skeleton. The only pro with this affliction was that his hair grew remarkably thicker after he turned, a big relief to a boy who had seen his father get a moon at age 35, and whose uncle was entirely bald by 40.
This didn’t change the fact that Blaine looked as though he was about to keel over at any moment. He was tall and lanky with no apparent muscle mass to brag about, with often half-lid eyes and dark bags beneath his eyes. His skin was tan, but it still seemed grey-hued and unhealthy, and damn he was just so tired. Class had been a hell, half the time he wanted to snap at his students to stop fooling around and work, the other half he wanted nothing more than to curl up in his bed and sleep the pain away, but he endured the way he always had and now he was left with the fucking papers he had forgotten that he had told the 4th years to write. After class he had found his way to the library in the hopes of marking the papers, but halfway through the currently sickly looking man fell asleep, finding comfort in the smell of paper and the use of his arms as pillows.
( OPEN ) --- ( 488 ) --- ( FIRST POST. ) |
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Post by BRENNAN GRANT on Oct 9, 2011 5:32:08 GMT -5
[/color][/size] you know that i love you boy[/color][/size][/center] ●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●  "Bored..." The word was barely muttered by the long-haired male. A small utterance that was meant more as a thought to himself than something to be spoken aloud. The student stalked down the hall, his eyes violet-blue eyes heavily lidded as he wandered toward the library like a zombie. "I'm so bored."
The complaint was issued in that same half-mumbled tone. The voice he always used when he was "thinking to himself". Unlike most people, Brennan just couldn't think in his own head... Not that it ever bothered him, in fact, he hardly noticed.
No, what bothered him was the fact that he was most assuredly dying of boredom. No ifs ands or buts. Sure, he could have been doing something semi-important... like studying, but there was a stubborn laziness that made his limbs feel like lead every time he tried to be studious.
"If my own body is against me then why put up the fight?" He muttered aloud, sounding rather pleased with himself. The young man heaved a sudden sigh, "But then, I guess I'm going to the library to fight it anyways."
The young male paused before the double doors. He stood a little straighter, pulled down his shirt and made sure that the long vibrant purple locks of his hair were in order before he pushed his way into the library with a theatrical flourish better suited for some over dramatic play than an entrance into a place of study.
But that was Brennan, the star of his own massive theatrical production in his mind.
He stood in front of the doors in a manner that was surely irritating to a few of the people in the room (hands stretched above his head, arrogant smirk present on his features) before striding through the room as if he was strutting on a catwalk.
"Well this isn't exactly thrillville..." He muttered to himself, letting his utterly gorgeous (in his opinion) gaze sweep the room to pin some unsuspecting victim with a smoldering stare and perhaps some undivided attention.
Instead of a victim the Ravenclaw found his gaze lighting on his Potions Professor. For a few brief moments the long haired male just blinked, before rapidly muttering to himself, "Oh? Professor Channing? Hm, I never quite thought professors would have homework, pleasant thought that they get all that payback... though~ He's looking awfully beat down and worn out..."
He drew closer, curiosity flickering in his gaze. Brennan wasn't exactly the subtle type, and he stood directly in front of the teacher before leaning forward with a rather intense look of interest on his features. "I wonder why he's so tired looking..." He mused to himself, completely oblivious to the fact that he was basically saying the words to the man's face... and openly staring at him. "Maybe if I stare at him long enough I'll find out...?"
●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●● h o t [/color][/size] like mexico rejoice
at this point i've gotta choose
nothing to lose[/color][/size][/center] [/blockquote] WORDS. 477
TAGS. prof. channing
LYRICS. alejandro / lady gaga
NOTES. lolol oh Bren XD obviously he doesn't know Professor Channing is a were. Hope I left you with enough to work off of XD
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