armydoccallahan-archive

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Ranger || Doctor || Survivor An Indie RP blog for Doctor TC Callahan from NBC's The Night Shift. Mun...

[armydoccallahan-archive]

Ranger || Doctor || Survivor An Indie RP blog for Doctor TC Callahan from NBC's The Night Shift. Mun...

ooc; Wanted to give TC his own blog. Please follow over here and let me know if I owe you pretty please :)

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[armydoccallahan-archive]

  "You jest now. But just know, when the time comes, I answer only    to 'Sir Gwaine the Magnificent.'" 

He flashes his companion a smile, but it's half-there and uneven. There is an eerie feel to this place. Something in the air that makes his skin prickle and his hair stand on end. 

  "It is quiet here ... think the birds have nodded off? Or frozen, one."

   ”Yes, Gwaine. Any minute now I’m going to scream     like a girl and beg you to protect me.”

The sarcasm comes easily, but even as he speaks he’s casting his gaze around. No birdsong, no buzz of insects. Even their horses are quiet, aside from a few, nervous breaths.

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"I know it does. I need to get your head checked out before I can give you something, though." He can already tell she's got a concussion; her pupils are dilated unevenly, and they're not responding right. "You're doing really well, Mer. Just bear with me a little longer. Are you feeling any nausea? Any dizziness?" 

Managing a small smile for a split moment, Merida did as she was told and did not take her eyes off of TC. It was not exactly an easy thing to do in the first place, not look at him, but being told to do so under these circumstances had an entirely different feeling to it. She blinked and squinted from the sting the light caused, her pupils not constricting as they should. “God, tha’ hurts…”

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"Long shift? Seemed like a good idea at a time?" He shrugged, leaning on the doorway into the kitchen to watch Clint work. "Any reason y'like, really." 

"As long as it’s only sometimes." He shrugged, not looking over his shoulder to confirm that TC had followed him before he started to pull things out of the fridge to make them breakfast. "Any reason you got shitfaced last night?"

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    TC was torn. He didn't want to do this.         He was a doctor. He wanted to help people, not hurt them.         But this guy ... people like him ... they'd hurt him.        They'd hurt him so bad.           "I can't do this, Clint. I can't keep living like this.            And I can't   I can't let you do it.             Please. I have to stop him. I have to.            I can't let him hurt anyone else."      Slow, angry tears tracked down his face, and he clenched his fists      so hard his hands shook at his sides.

     Clint was cautious as he stepped closer until         he was standing in front of the doctor.                    “You are not a monster, TC.            No matter what they did to you, what they made you,                   you’re not what they think.               You are better than them.”

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      "My life is already ruined. I don't know what I am, Clint.           I can't control it. What they did to me   I've tried so hard,          but I can't escape it.         These fuckers keep finding me. And even when they don't,          I feel wrong, Clint. And I'm just so fucking tired of it.

      They treat me like a monster ... and maybe I am.           Maybe I should act like it. Maybe then they'll realize their mistake."   

        “I didn’t forget shit!       This isn’t about you not being capable or me          trying to fight your fights for you.          This is about you ruining your fucking life!”

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       "You're not fighting my battles for me!              You're not the only one that's killed people,             or did you forget I was a soldier?         Just get back, Clint. This is my fight. This is my war!"

       ”Then you let me take care of it.                 That is my job.               Yours is to help people.”

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       "You don't understand!             You don't know what people like him do. What they did.                        To me!          He was going to do it again! And he wasn't gonna stop with me!             I can't do that again. I can't."

         ”Would’ve is not a good enough reason.                  You need to calm the fuck down, TC.”

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"Don't have to be mean," TC teased as he pulled out a penlight. "You've never had a problem with my looks before. Which is good, 'cause I need you to focus on them." He tapped the point of his own nose. "Right here. Try not to blink too much. And hold still. The less you move that ankle, the better. Trust me; I'm a doctor." 

Merida tried to sit up properly, but it instantly made her ankle ache. She bit her lip hard to keep from crying out and propped  herself up on her elbows. He looked so calm. Too collected. “T? I don’t like that look.”

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"I really hate you sometimes." But all the same, he drags his ass off the bed and follows Clint into the kitchen.

"Only if you get your ass up." He smirked and turned to head for the kitchen, hoping that he’d provided enough incentive for TC to get up. 

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       "I'll do what I have to do, Clint!              He would've done worse to me!"

       ”That doesn’t mean you can beat the shit out of him.                     You are not the killer in this relationship!”

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"Do I get to see you wear an apron?" Because that would totally make this whole hangover thing worth it. Clint in an apron. He'd hang onto that for years.

"Fresh outta coffee." Technically, it wasn’t a lie. He’d finished off the pot the last time he refreshed his mug and he hadn’t gotten around to make more. Yet. "How about some orange juice and eggs?"

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callitcoulson

         “You’re killing him!”

         "He deserves it!"

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I absolutely love when people read my roleplays and then send messages to me about how they enjoyed them. I feel like connecting with them in that way means that I’m doing a good job.

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He's like a perfect storm of amazing hair and horrible judgment.

Texts from Last Night