- ̗̀ A COSMIC UNRAVELING.

“Everything rough becomes delicate when you love it. More roses, more roses, more roses.”

[marcelcalleja]

alexanderarnault ,

Eyes glued to the screen of his phone, Alexander tried his best to keep focused and soak up the sentences from the article he’d been reading for the past half hour. He should probably give up at this point, take another look tomorrow morning with a fresh mind, but he was so close to reading the conclusion. And besides, he liked to stretch his mind, liked staying up to date on all the latest in the medical field. The last thing he wanted to be was complacent. And so, despite his foggy brain, he read about the results of the study until a voice pierced through his bubble of attention, and though he put his phone down, it took a while for him to respond. “Not an every day question,” Alex remarked, then chuckled dryly. His life had been turned upside down recently, but he did blame fate? Did he think fate had anything to do with it? He wasn’t sure. “I think if it offers someone solace or helps them get through whatever it is they’re going through, it can only be good they believe in it.” It was a non-answer, really, but he wasn’t sure what he believed. And he’d seen plenty of patients who’d been completely desperate and had turned to faith, fate or some other higher power to help. Who was he to dismiss it? “Why do you ask, if I may? Writing a philosophic essay?”

               “Unfortunately it’s not for an academic paper,” he chuckled dismissively of the idea, understanding well enough that if it was for some philosophical rhetoric pertaining to academics he wouldn’t be chewing so much on the sentiment. Marcel was fortunate enough to live well off enough to never much question his life or how it had come to be, cogent arguments and ways of fate deeming his very outcome. No matter, Marcel had since found himself stuck, a vexing bout of dissatisfaction which proved unbecoming to the male, never one for second guessing or probing ridiculous myths and fantasies of what ifs. “I’m merely in the beginnings of an early mid life crisis,” words were breezed out, a joking tone encapsulating gentle timbre, “You get to that point yet? I could really use somebody by my side through this,” a mild grin took hold of olive mien, having met Alexander throughout a myriad of surgeries at the hospital, never getting past the OR until Marcel had abandoned said medical passion for good. 

[marcelcalleja]

THE ANIMAL IN YOU TEST / MARCEL ALVAREZ CALLEJA.

RESULT: Dog BEAR CHARACTERISTICS: Cheerful • Devoted • Easy-going • Protective • Faithful • Impatient

“There's something about a dog personality's warmly expressive eyes that'll charm your socks off. Dogs feature many of the characteristics of the canine family and are some of the most charming, creatures in the animal kingdom. Although they border on the predictable, they're never boring or eccentric.”

Dog personalities come in all shapes and sizes and it's difficult to identify them by physical appearance alone. The best way to recognize one is by its dominant trait: gregariousness. Energetic and eager-to-please, they have an overabundance of energy, spend a great deal of time at play, and are frisky even when hard at work. Expressive with people that they love, they readily display distaste for those they dislike.

Sensitive to the feelings of others, they recognize the importance of dominance and submission in the social order and are ready to play their role either way. Sometimes they take the lead, while other times they are happy to tag along and play a more subdued role. Dogs are only secure when their position in the social hierarchy has been clearly defined.

Their desire to help others lands them in a wide variety of industries, including the medical and retail fields. Even so, dogs are also comfortable in leadership roles and are capable of owning their own business or being a supervisor in a large company. With a commanding presence and clear, barking voice, they are well liked and respected as leaders.

[marcelcalleja]

saharareed ,

                   Despite residing in New York for most of her life, Sahara never interacted (personally ) with someone who worked in the fire department. Thus, her curiosity reached its peak once discovering Marcel’s occupation, smirking massively. “What’s the worst you’ve ever encountered while living here? I mean, jeez —- have you developed asthma yet because of smoke inhalation?” She could feel embarrassment lingering between the two, but didn’t believe there’s much harm in inquiring about a job that serviced a whole entire community. “Like, that’s wild. Amazing! Yet wild. Do I have to call you Captain Calleja?”

               Somebody being so enamored by his occupation was genuinely surprising, lest for somebody over the age of ten, a mild chuckle escaping him as a fervent head shake of disapproval soon ensued. “I think Marcel will do just fine... all that extra stuff is a bit too formal.” No one proceeded to greet him so formally in all his years within the firehouse, many of them considered practically kin when it came to the bonds formed within the station, “Nobody has to worry about that unless faulty suits or improper preparation happen; they’ve uh, made it fairly foolproof when it comes to protection us from the things we protect everyone else from.” 

[memesmercy]

Send a 💛 + three names and my muse will tell who they would fuck, marry, and kill ( FMK ) …

[thickdickgrayson]

jay hernandez as thomas magnum in magnum p.i. 1.02

[marcelcalleja]

Cattell’s 16 Factor Key :

take this test for your muse and post your results.

WARMTH :     90%  :   (  supportive, comforting ) INTELLECT :  86%  :   (  cerebral, analytical ) EMOTIONAL STABILITY :     90%  :   (  level headed, calm  ) AGGRESSIVENESS : 38%  :   (  modest, docile ) LIVELINESS :     18%  :   (  somber, restrained  ) DUTIFULNESS :    86%  :   (  conforming, traditional  ) SOCIAL ASSERTIVENESS : 70%  :   (  uninhibited, bold  ) SENSITIVITY : 54%  :   (  touchy, soft  ) PARANOIA :    18%  :   (  trusting, easy going   ) ABSTRACTNESS :    30%  :   (  practical, regular ) INTROVERSION :     34%  :   (  open, friendly  ) ANXIETY :     58%  :   (  fearful, self-doubting  ) OPEN MINDEDNESS :     22%  :   (  closeminded, set-in-ways ) INDEPENDENCE :     58%  :   (  loner, craves solitude ) PERFECTIONISM :     90%  :   (  orderly, thorough  ) TENSION :    26%  :   (  relaxed, cool  )

[marcelcalleja]

devinstonegibson ,

“ Fate is like a strange, unpopular restaurant filled with odd little waiters who bring you things you never asked for and don’t always like.” Gibson briefly paused. “Like this question.” He shook his head and looked at the man quizzically. “Think you need to shut your brain off for a few seconds and recharge. Don’t make me bring out the big guns.” And by that suggestion he could only mean one thing. Nothing like a good ‘ole shot of Tequila to let one’s worries be cast to the side like some ugly red-headed step child. Gibson wasn’t sure he believed in fate. Sometimes people were just dealt a shitty hand and you only two options: you could take it and make of what you will or you could whine and get nothing done.

               “Oh, my apologies,” a stifled laugh bubbled out, shaking his head at Gibson, “Next time I spew a cry for help I’ll find someone else to chew their ear off.” Teasing lilt encapsulated his tone, appreciative that Gibson was there to pull him out of such remedial funk. It was never much like Marcel to stew on any prospective issues he was struggling through, especially not out loud to others, sitting up as if settling on the decision with no turning back. “I’ll say... I think a drink will do plenty in making me a little less serious. I  think I  need a day off,” a grin followed suit, knowing full well the fifty plus hours and then some were likely not helping with his current state of mind.

[marcelcalleja]

edenapsley ,

“It is,” Eden chuckles with the slow agreeing nod of her head. “It’s not easy, but… Has anything good in your life been easy to achieve? That’s what makes it worth it in the end…” The petite brunette learns forward in her seat, then tilts her head to one side as she watched Marcel stare off into space and takes this opportunity to look over his features with care and detail. She doesn’t bother him, of course. Not yet, anyway. Eden understands that feeling. The feeling of peaceful detachment; slipping away from the anxieties of the real world. In the silence, the woman wonder’s what has brought on such a deep and heavy conversation. Not that she minded in the slightest, but it did make her worry somewhat about Marcel and where his mind was at.

When Marcel comes back out of his daze, Eden leans back into her seat casually. With his questioning about how she could still have faith in fate with all she has been through, Eden flashes her own gentle, somewhat tired smile. The woman has yet to speak openly about what has happened over in Iraq. If one wanted to, they would be able to look up the date or find information on Wikipedia if they desired to know what happened. But, for the most part, Eden has found out a lot of people would rather hear what she went through from her own mouth. That was something she wasn’t ready for. It didn’t help that the woman has always been fairly private in her personal life. Ever since she was a little girl and realized that her own words could be twisted and used against her  - the things you learn from the social elite…

Marcel wasn’t just anybody, though. He was a friend, who seemingly, needed some comfort in this particular moment. “Fate is twisted, I can’t deny that…” She sighs, chewing harshly at one corner of her lip as doe-like, but fair from naive hues look to her cane. “I also refuse to believe that fate decided to leave me like this,” Strong orbs flicker back to her friend. “… The thing is that, in my own personal opinion, no matter what fate decided to throw at us and put us through, we have the power to react to the situation.” Meaning, that Eden was going to live her life to the best of her ability, and her disability was not going to stop her from doing what she loves. She might react different to certain situations, but Eden was never someone to backdown and give up. “It’s difficult right now… I’m not saying that this is easy. Life isn’t easy… But, I’m willing to bet that I’m going to come out on the other side stronger than ever.” Acute orbs continue to look at Marcel. Then, a beat later she asks, “What’s wrong?”

               Hard lines and tailored edges surrounded tired eyes, smothering a genuinely kind disposition. When at work, amidst the intensity endured as fire Captain one couldn’t expect Marcel to feel so heavy, senses clouded by the strange... regrets — perhaps he couldn’t call it that — never able to put a name to the wicked emotions that clouded him following his recent years. It wrought a frigid conclusion in which Marcel found unable to shake, no matter the reassurance he could repeat akin to a mantra. It proved how dastardly comical life was, a peculiar sense of dissatisfaction licking at ones heels. “Hm, sometimes I wish it were but I think that lays in with the whole human nature aspect. Easy or not, some people are never happy.” An allusion to his possible fear, the idea that no matter what he set out for one could never be content. A myriad of people found comfort in an unsettled style, a life of nerve which twisted and shook things up in every breath.

               Any extempore was ceased despite his own nerves coercing any prospect of word vomit that dared be excavated, gnawing on his bottom lip under the most minute inkling of restraint. Restraint or a lack of lexicon to offer, bringing the coffee cup up to his lips momentarily, yet never much committing to a genuine sip. A clement melancholy clouded him, wracked with a lack of options when it came to his father who was slipping in terms of health. Marcel could set a broken bone, offer any exemplary form of physical therapy and rally off a faultless medical research plan when it came to the leaps and bounds of orthopedics yet was lost when it came to his fathers failing lungs. He should have went into cardiothoracics, yet passion for such cause was never quite the same. Lest if he was unenthused in his profession he could have any sense of an idea to save his father; life was perpetual fickle, however,  it seemed. 

               "You are so strong,” syllables slipped out amidst a sheepish laugh, almost as if I n tandem surrender; an apologetic look on his face. He hadn’t endured the same plight as Eden, yet the churlish man his father morphed into when everyone wished to treat him as a frangible mess, instead of the heralded ex Fire Captain revealed plenty to Marcel. He was sure his russet haired companion had heard the remark all the same, yet his was not, and never would be, drenched in a basin of pity. “If you get any stronger, I’m going to start to be worried that you’ll start fighting life back.” Joke was produced amidst his own need for a more light hearted sentiment, shrugging solemnly, “My family has done everything for me. Now, I feel I can’t offer anything in return, when they need me. It’s like I  failed them.” The residual acrimony which was excavated was steeped in a bout of dramatic nostalgia, Marcel knowing full well the statement was not true.  

[marcelcalleja]

rivcfitz ,

Riva was slightly taken aback as the man spoke up to her but, she tilted her head a little and cleared her throat to form a response to his question -rhetorical or not. She thought back to some of the choices and experiences she had faced in her own lifespan and exhaled shakily; the first love, now distant ex-boyfriend whom she’d trusted with everything; the string of frat boys she’d had in college; the run-on of temp jobs that she’d hated but, stuck out long enough to get some money to her name. She’d had things pretty easy compared to some people she knew, then this man seemed to be needing reassurance. She swallowed. The blonde slowly winced before she replied, “I think we hear it enough when people say that everything happens for a reason. Sometimes, we just don’t know what those reasons are but, I think there’s some truth to that statement.” Riva gave a light shrug, to round off her comment.

               A more lachrymose rhetoric had nestled into Marcelo, something not typically found within the male. His life was irreparably sound, a gifted path carved and paved only by his own free will. Perhaps childhood had been rough, to put it mildly; poverty a wicked streak within his family, persevering even through that. He didn’t like to entertain any notions that he had been fed with a silver spoon, adamant that his parents had sacrificed more than everything to get him to where he was today, a plight that was unfortunately not granted the same way to his younger sibling. “I  grew up in a God fearing home I  think I  know that much,” he smiled in content all the same, his faith in religion waning as he grew older and found his own beliefs. “So, trust that I know that saying,” smile grew, nodding in finality, “Still helps to hear from someone outside of my world.” A way of thanks, offered genuinely. 

[marcelcalleja]

sophiaconncly ,

Sophia lifted her hues at the male when his question was one that she felt slightly hesitant to answer. More so because she had contemplated over that same question many of times and had never come to a decision. A part of her would have believed in faith had she not been divorced and a single mother at the age of thirty-five. How was that meant to happen to ensure something better when she had been, and still was, certain that she had found the man for her. Maybe she believed that everything happened due to the choices one made. But that would have to mean she’d done this to herself and that felt even worse. “I have no idea,” she said with a sigh as she let her shoulders drop into a shrug. “But I know that bad things need to happen so you can appreciate the good ones. Hopefully, that helps.” It didn’t assure him that something good would come from the bad situations— but that if it did, he’d at least recognize that they were positive changes.

               “It is the most comforting answer I’ve received,” a mild chuckle escaped him, gnawing his inner cheek as if chewing on her words. There was a part of him that wanted to be unsettled, uprooted from the very perspectives and opinions he had held onto for the majority of his life, though Marcel could find ease at her extempore, all the same. He had enjoyed a life of stability through hard work and dedicated perseverance, which apparently could still not be deemed enough; a maddening cycle of humanity if one had to speculate. “I guess everybody has a turn for bad things,” and now, with his father’s worsening condition, said time was deemed now for him.  

[marcelcalleja]

ballantynez ,

         It felt like years had gone by since Ziggy landed in Massachusetts.  He missed the high UV index of Los Angeles, the importance of sunscreen, boasting only the most expensive, natural, vegan brands to his instagram followers.  Although Spring was very much alive in Devinstone, it meant nothing to him considering the town was realistically coming off a long and hard winter season.  He packed a single scarf in his suitcase.  That was something, at least.  “I’ve always heard it’s about the journey, not the destination.  Of course, there’s always room to wiggle your fate.  Don’t you know the Gods have the ability to rewrite the stars?”  Strangers didn’t start conversations over anything meaningful where he came from.  Meaningful to Ziggy meant often more shallow things.  Street style, material wealth, the so-called culture of Los Angeles.  “I assume we’re speaking hypothetically?”  He let his eyes trail the man’s persona.  Was he carrying any heavy burden?  Ziggy couldn’t be sure, nor did he care to indulge in the prospect of it.  “Life doesn’t always turn out fine in the end, but we’re not told that as children.  It’d be hard to break that to a child, wouldn’t it?”  He supposed that’s why his own parents had never done it.

               “What’s more hypothetical than fate?” Marcel chided under mild jest, nodding his head at improvisatory syllables which escaped the other. Devinstone proved as densely populated a town as any, in tandem with how frivolous it could seem from the outside perspective. Despite how diminutive it could seem on a map there were throngs of people Marcel hadn’t even encountered in spite of the male having lived here since adolescence. Under the same black and white scope, there were many in which he could rehearse their stories back to them, memorized under puerile rumors devised from a myriad of townsfolk. The male before him proved to be one of the few whom Marcel could be prospectively envious of, his life having started and, would possibly, end in Massachusetts. “Well... sometimes it turns out great and you’re still unsatisfied. The problem of being human, right?” A mild chuckle escaped him, knowing full well he hadn’t had everything handed to him, clawing his way to a life of stability, yet still unsatisfied with the end result. He would never give up his position within the firehouse and yet there was always the precipice of something missing.

[marcelcalleja]

draveline ,

Aveline blinked. She sipped her coffee. It was too late for coffee, but much too early for existential questions about fate and free will… but Avie was always up for either one. She smiled and rested her chin on her hand as she thought about it. “Sometimes…” she said. That was a ridiculous answer. Too much and not enough. She shook her head, forcing herself to think about it. She didn’t want to, but neither did he, probably, and sometimes difficult things needed to be thought about.

“I think maybe fate isn’t kind, though. Not always. Things happen for a reason, maybe, but… not for nice reasons. Not for reasons that make any sense for a long time. If you look back on your life, and you wonder what it would have been like if your parents were different, or if you’d married someone else, you’re not going to find a better or worse timeline than this one. Everything sucks, but everything’s beautiful, too. Nothing turns out fine in the end, because there isn’t an end. Life goes on. …I know that’s not really an answer, but it’s the one I have,” she answered, trying to focus on the coffee and the scenery and not her parents or her marriage. “What brought that on?”

               “Sorry,” a laugh bubbled out as he near excused any sense of invasive inquiries which had since rolled off the tarmac of his tongue. It was never much like him to pick apart any philosophical paradoxes in lieu of how the world turned, yet Marcel found himself piqued as of recent, despite the wonderfully smooth path in which his life had taken course. Sometimes, one had to wonder if that was fair; or if there was any measurement to what was fair, truly, Marcel knowing full well things couldn’t be so wonderfully black and white when push came to shove. All the same, he was struck down with such thoughts that pressured him now, offering a mild shrug as if brushing off the question in its entirety. “No, I mean... that helps more than you think. Somewhat, inexplicably,” a soft grin jumped upon olive mien, shaking his head in tandem, “What — you never question the existential problems of the universe over your afternoon coffee?” The teasing lilt of his tone may fall flat but he shrugged it off once more, the repetitive action a tell tale that he may not be ready to genuinely open the flood gates and let all pour out.

[marcelcalleja]

 bunnybarbs ,

A sigh escaped her lips as soon as the stranger left, the oak door slamming against its threshold as though to signify the end of her plea for the man to leave. No, she did not want to cuddle afterwards. That was a given at this point in her life. “Don’t bother.” Bunny murmured, but it seemed as though he had already received the message. The honesty sat heavy on her arms, dragging her elbows against the marble finish in front of her as she rubbed her weary face. Oh, how she had compared herself so many times to the man across the kitchen island. No longer, though. Bunny had given up on childish retorts and pathetic attempts from her psyche to become the golden child her older brother moulded himself upon. “Not if you’re making toast. I don’t eat carbs.” He knew that, though. She was never easy to live with, even when she was a baby. Filled the rooms with her sobs and dejection; which never ceased to change, even at the age of twenty-five. “How was work? Is that grey hair?” Bunny smirked, leaning over the counter to dab at her older brother’s locks. “Is the entire weight of the firefighting industry on your shoulders again?”

              “Why don’t you volunteer sometime?” inquiry rolled gently off his tongue, arms folded in tandem as a smug expression soon embellished his countenance. It was a right of passage between the two siblings, who shared a massive age gap, to be ruthlessly vexing to one another, russet hues flicking from the door back to his baby sister as if making sure any unprompted guest was truly gone. “I think it would be a good change of pace, I know dad would be enamored at the thought, truly.” Hands slid up to rest upon his own heart, offering a mocking grin as if to bounce off from her jest at any gray hair. Inevitably, Marcel turned away, turning on a well needed cup of coffee if he were to get through the morning before heading off to work once more, the male never keen on giving up the antiquated machine for a dreaded Keurig. “Scrambled eggs? I know there’s some leftover rice and plantains if you’re really hungry,” while the language never much adhered to them, any cuisines did, his mother a fantastic cook in their youth; Marcel certainly carrying the gene over. 

[marcelcalleja]

joaquinxii ,

                 “You kiss your fuckin’ mother with that type of mouth?” Joaquin inquired, almost making a mockery out of Marcel. The two go way back. The smell of the caffeinated beverage prompted him to almost gag, downing a large gulp of his own drink, a bottled water. Fate ran its course in Joaquín’s life, and it still happens to make an appearance here and there. “I’m Venezuelan and Puerto Rican; I’m also a whole Catholic. Mamá had me enrolled in private school from ages five to fourteen. Let’s not forget going to church every Sunday and missing school on Ash Wednesday for the first four hours;  Shit, she still does it now, even my dad —- you know damn well I can’t argue with him.  Of course I believe in fate. I might not have been the most well behaved child, but there’s not a single moment when I’m not thinking about fate and how I prospered in life because of it.” And here’s to hoping fate will better him as a person, rather than being a pretentious, loud, obnoxious individual. “Listen, you wanna speak to my tía? She’s also good with this shit. You have one conversation with her and your life will change forever.”

               "I am the golden child in my family, so cursing is not in my vocabulary,” teasing lilt encapsulated every syllable, knowing full well that even with turning near forty his mother could never hear him utter an expletive of any sorts. A laugh fell from his lips, raising a brow at the spectacle that would be Joaquín in a Sunday church get up, wild eyes amidst a crowd that was surely the opposite of him at their very core. Even Marcel’s family never doted on being active within their religion, keeping it within their limits of conjoined prayer before dinner and crosses around their neck. No matter, such practices ceased when Marcel’s father became sicker and Bunny was brought into the family, her near immediate refusal to join in sealing the deal. Joaquín’s extempore allowed Marcel to fiddle with the cross which remained slinked around his own neck, calloused fingertips running it back and forth amongst the chain, “Maybe you were smothered,” he argued, fingers letting the chain fall to snap at the other as if pointed out some newly found information, “You know, not everybody wants to embrace God; it’s not for everybody,” a light smirk settled into olive mien, half shrugging his shoulders as if allowing Joaquín to digest the information in spite of his jesting tone. 

[marcelcalleja]

tessxbryant ,

“That shouldn’t even be a question” Tess responded, with a grin that lightly matched his. “Of course I need the caffeine. How will I survive the rest of the day?” She’d like to credit her early morning stamina from all those Saturdays where her mom would wake her up early to help clean - after a while, she just got use to it, and looked forward to those mornings when it was just her and mom. “Can you imagine all of these people being just like me, you’d hate it - you would. In fact, everyone would. We need the zombies to just be zombies - it’s better that way, trust me.”

               “You look to me like you have enough energy to backpack across the country right now,” he chided mildly, half envious that it took him far too many cups of caffeine to get up and running. “No, no, I would much prefer a lack of zombies, at least I’d rather switch off with you.” Marcel could get used to the overnight shifts his selected occupation could allow, though that didn’t make them any easier to dredge through. 

[ryan-coogler-archive]

[marcelcalleja]

virginialuth ,

A laugh inevitably slipped through her lips at his initial question. It was a soft sound, still not wanting to disrupt the silence that engulfed the building surrounding them. Virginia didn’t completely put the book she’d been reading down, simply slipping a finger in between the pages as she looked over at him. “If you’re looking for a pep talk then I must warn you, you’ve definitely come to the wrong person.” She hadn’t always thought completely negatively about all of life’s ideologies, fate being one of the biggest. However, now she simply found them as excuses that people used in order to comfort themselves which did not mean that they were bad but they were unrealistic which she preferred to leave for the fictional works. “No. Sometimes things just suck and that’s that. Even if you make a situation better it doesn’t change the fact that it was already shit or that it won’t be shit again in the future.” 

               “Oh— no, no pep talk necessary, just looking for a differing opinion, hopefully.” Head twisted up under a cemented conclusion, despite the fact that Marcel genuinely couldn't place where his opinion was in reference to fate. His life had turned out wonderfully, considering the deck offered to him, Marcel more than satisfied with the result. Perhaps that was the perpetual crux of happiness in the end; the inevitable tiring even after you had gotten everything one vied for. It was maddeningly paradoxical and would surely explain the differing views that ran on in his head. “So you also think people can avoid that string of bad luck?” In terms of societal manners, perhaps it was wrong for him to tack on another inquiry, not quite keen on letting go of the matter just yet. All the same, after a visual pause, Marcel waved a hand in tandem diffusing it in the same breath, “Feel free to tell me to shut it, we’re in a library, after all.”