to be your own man, you gotta be a monster too

 Man is not one but two, he is evil and good and he walks the fine line we'd all cross if we could. (indie roleplay blog for Calvin Zabo) please note that the mun is a spoonie and can be slow with replies

[hecalledmeflowers-archive]

“I finally get how you feel,” Raina said, grimacing as she pulled the syringe from her arm with shaking fingers. Even as she spoke, the thick black spines that covered her face and body began to shrink, sliding backwards into her skin and disappearing from sight. Moments later where the inhuman thing had been, a beautiful woman now sat, drenched in sweat, trembling uncontrollably, brilliant yellow eyes glittering in pain and triumph.

She held out trembling hands to the doctor as she tried, and failed to lift herself from the makeshift operating table.

“Cal… Help me. I need… there’s… work to be done.”

[theredhandedfather]

The display is impressive, but Cal watches impassively, expressionless. It’s an uncanny look for a face usually animated in rage or joy. Just a year ago it could have been a warning sign. Now? Who knows.

Still he comes to her side and lifts her up like she’s only a child again. She might as well be, light as she is. 

“And where are we going tonight?”

[renmorris]

i need this!!! so badly!!!

[renmorris]

AWWW

[cr1tikaesthetic]

♡ follow for more cr1tikal aesthetic ♡ ( ♥ )

[renmorris]

i have a folder that’s just pictures of kyle maclachlan with dogs

[agentsofbadcomics]

love you.

S.O.S. Part Two aired on 12 May 2015. I can’t believe it’s been a year.

[demxralizearchive-blog]

@tremoriisms

[dichenlachmandaily]

dichenlachman: Should I #stay or should I #go? #strange but #unique #vest #wardrobe #kills

[cr1tikaesthetic]

♡ follow for more cr1tikal aesthetic ♡ ( ♥ )

[madeofklay]

eat-your-heart-and-go-numb.jpg

[theredhandedfather]

Bold all that apply: My muse knows how to…

bake a cake from scratch | ride a horse | drive stick | speak a second language| dance | catch a fish | play an instrument | throw a punch | build a deck | ice skate | unclog a drain |program a computer | change a flat tire | fire a gun |sew| juggle | play poker | paint | fly a kite | sculpt | write poetry | change a diaper | sing | shoot a bow and arrow | ride a bike | swim | sail a boat | do a back flip | play chess | give CPR | pitch a tent | flirt | stitch a wound | read palms | use chopsticks | write in cursive | use an electric drill | braid hair| make a campfire | make a mixed drink | do sudoku puzzles | wrap a gift | give a good massage | jump-start a car | roll their tongue | do magic tricks | do yoga| tie a tie | skip a rock | shuffle a deck of cards | read Morse code | pick a lock

tagged by: @pracsul

[whodoesntlikeflcwers]

white lies || cal & raina

[theredhandedfather]

Oh, if anything the disparity between his hazey memories of afterlife and her new appearance only make him more disoriented, more paranoid. 

Lonely. Winslow and Johnson had always been warm and outgoing but isolation fits Zabo’s brooding nature. Whoever he is now misses the warm brightness of his clinic, the friendly faces and animals….

“Fine. I’ve just been going over some things.” He vaguely gestures to his tablet.

[whodoesntlikeflcwers]

Raina shifted, then moved to stand by Cal’s side. In spite of everything, it felt safer there–better. Her natural place in the world.

“Anything I can do to help?” There wasn’t, and she knew it, but there was a chance he might lie. They always lied for one another. “You’ve been so busy down here… I suppose you have to be. What with me-… I’m sorry. For leaving you alone all day. We could-… Maybe we should go out for dinner. Take a break. Would you like that?”

[theredhandedfather]

Light sparks up in Cal’s dim eyes. “Yes-! I would. I would like that very much.”

He rises from his seat, straightens his tie. “Where are we going?”

[theredhandedfather]

He finds himself suddenly very aware of how his posture isn’t as straight as it could be and how the heat has made his palms sweat.

“Yes- thank you. It’s an honor to be here.” 

(She is younger than he thought she’d be.)

He bows his head, and greets her as best he can. His accent could use some work, to say the least.

[demxralizearchive-blog]

    “It is entirely ours, it is…difficult to treat illness here, your help will be greatly appreciated” A smile graced her lips – different from the polite one she was obliged to show as an elder. The effort he gave was the opposite of what she had imagined – despite her hopes for a good person looking to help she had not dared raise her expectations as high. Instead being prepared to be met with an older man, one with no respect and who’s only response was to look down his nose at them all. “The heat here can be uncomfortable, I would recommend…cooler clothing.”

[theredhandedfather]

“Yeah, you folks are pretty isolated out here. That can get rough when things go wrong.” 

Cal chuckles. “Noted! I uh, should’ve researched a little better.”

[whodoesntlikeflcwers]

white lies || cal & raina

[theredhandedfather]

And how could he not resent her? He had been happy. Possibly. Perhaps that happiness had been false but now-

Now he’s traded his clinic and soft animals for a dingy crowded basement. He’s even lost the semi regular visits from his daughter…

(Daughter was a word that always fit oddly in Winslow’s skull, heavy and strange. He’d have a family someday, now that practice had settled and-)

And it’s gone. He can’t even leave the house. Winslow and Zabo and Johnson overlap and twist in his head and he can’t quite grab on to any of them. 

“Hmm? Not really…” He’s in one of his ‘moods.’ Flipping through old data on his tablet and not looking up at her. This old basement, this sad excuse for a laboratory. There is at least, the work to keep himself busy. There’s so much to be done, so few resources to take advantage of. Zabo tells him this is just like old times.

“Anything is fine.” He adds, nearly two whole minutes later and finally looks up. “…Do you need any help?”

[whodoesntlikeflcwers]

“No! No, it’s fine,” Raina replied, just a hair too quickly. But she was far too aware of Cal’s feelings towards her at the moment to want to inflict her presence on him for any longer than she had to. Still… god, how she was drawn to him. How she longed for things to go back to the way they were… even at Afterlife, he had hated and avoided her, but he could still look her in the eyes… Now-… Well. At least she had eyes worth looking at. Soft skin. Long, curly hair. She was beautiful at least, even if he refused to acknowledge it.

“I um… I’ll see what I can make up then.” She hovered awkwardly, rocking slightly on the balls of her feet, wishing he might turn and look at her, just once. “How… how’ve you been today?”

[theredhandedfather]

Oh, if anything the disparity between his hazey memories of afterlife and her new appearance only make him more disoriented, more paranoid. 

Lonely. Winslow and Johnson had always been warm and outgoing but isolation fits Zabo’s brooding nature. Whoever he is now misses the warm brightness of his clinic, the friendly faces and animals....

“Fine. I’ve just been going over some things.” He vaguely gestures to his tablet.

[demxralizearchive-blog]

                You never stop being a mother– not if you lose your child, not through death or age                  You remain a mother even when your child isn’t there. It’s a constant, it’s something                 you can’t lose or give up because some part of you holds on. -But that doesn’t mean                 you can’t look after someone else  –  you can find a home and decide to help those                 who need it. Look after them, care for them  ;  be their mother figure.You’ll do a n y t                 h i n g for your daughter, for your people– for your family. Even if it means you must                 become a monster.

[bannerandthebeast]

long distance || cal & bruce

Mr. Green is typing…

Mr. Green: Sorry. This is

Mr. Green: weird

Mr. Green: I’ve never been on a site like this before

Mr. Green: So you just… talk?

Bruce wanted to smash his head into the keyboard. If this stranger didn’t already think he was mentally impaired somehow, it would be a goddamn miracle. He tried to think positively–after all, he wasn’t doing so bad. It was normal to be nervous about these sorts of things, wasn’t it? Talking to strangers on the internet… it was new… and strange… But he was doing alright. So long as the website hadn’t matched him with some teenager, or under cover cop, or god forbid an agent… And he’d never know until something went horribly wrong. So really, why shouldn’t he enjoy himself?

With that barely comforting fact in mind, he again reached for the keyboard.

Mr. Green: My name is Bruce. It’s nice to meet you.

[theredhandedfather]

CAL9000 is typing...

CAL9000: Ha! that’s okay, it takes awhile to get used to ;-))

CAL9000: Kind of new here myself, actually.

CAL9000: only been using for a few days.

[whodoesntlikeflcwers]

white lies || cal & raina

“Good morning, Cal…”

Raina stood at the foot of the stairs, watching the doctor as he moved around the basement laboratory. It wasn’t much of a home, she thought bitterly, thinking about the small, yellow suburban house in practically the middle of nowhere–but it was all she could manage for him. Someday, she promised herself silently, they would have a proper home. Cal could go out whenever he wished, maybe even go back to working in a real hospital, instead of having to confine all his experiments to a shoddy basement full of wine racks and a washing machine. She would give him a real home… a real life… maybe then he might not resent her.

She put on her best smile, and took a few tentative steps nearer to him.

“We have groceries!” she announced proudly. “I thought I might cook tonight… Is there anything in particular you want?”

[theredhandedfather]

And how could he not resent her? He had been happy. Possibly. Perhaps that happiness had been false but now-

Now he’s traded his clinic and soft animals for a dingy crowded basement. He’s even lost the semi regular visits from his daughter...

(Daughter was a word that always fit oddly in Winslow’s skull, heavy and strange. He’d have a family someday, now that practice had settled and-)

And it’s gone. He can’t even leave the house. Winslow and Zabo and Johnson overlap and twist in his head and he can’t quite grab on to any of them. 

“Hmm? Not really...” He’s in one of his ‘moods.’ Flipping through old data on his tablet and not looking up at her. This old basement, this sad excuse for a laboratory. There is at least, the work to keep himself busy. There’s so much to be done, so few resources to take advantage of. Zabo tells him this is just like old times.

“Anything is fine.” He adds, nearly two whole minutes later and finally looks up. “...Do you need any help?”

[demxralizearchive-blog]

#

- what your muse’s name is in mine’s phone; 亲爱的 (My love)- what your muse’s picture is in mine’s phone;

- what your muse’s ringtone is in mine’s phone; This was actually just on and I was thinking about what song and I was like just yes because i feel like it’s a bit them.- my muse’s last text to your muse; ‘If you bring another dog back then you’re on the couch. The dog can sleep with me.’

Phone headcanons ;; @redhandedfather