#maybe its worth a poll at one point

[chimchiri]

Sometimes I wonder how it must be to follow me for one of my two big fandoms and then suddenly seeing art/posts about the other fandom, which is vastly different in tone and setting.

[millersfinest]

untethered⁵ | e.w

00s!ellie williams & 00s!miller!reader

wc: 10.6k

series: chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four, chapter five (you're here!)

blurb: it’s been awhile since you’ve been back home; in upstate new york where you’ve spent most of your life waking up early and tending to the animals that moo’d and meh’d. after graduation high school, and then college, the city life has stolen most of your attention. enabling you to visit only a handful of times through the years. when your lovely adoptive parents (tommy and maria miller) invite you back for a thanksgiving dinner—a troubled old flame from your childhood manages to get your attention, despite its explosive ending.

cw: lmao flip phones, r and ellie NOT beating the cheating allegations, more use of y/n then i would prefer, she/her pronouns, vulgar language, some angst (not on ellie’s watch tho), fuckgirl!ellie (kind of), the millers, r is a writer (she doesn’t write much in this ch wink wink 3.0), using fuck as a conjunction word, ellie needs the reader bad, a few arguments sprinkled in, elements of longing, ellie is #1 lesbian yearner in the world, some early 2000s references, thanksgiving, r is very anxious, hella angst, the CAT may be out the bag (can mean many things), some adoption related turmoil, emotional cheating (from ellie), cute mother daughter moment, repressed emotions, lots of angst in this chapter, ellie is mean when she don't fw you, not a lot of reader x ellie in this ngl.

note: finally the 5th installment, hope it's worth the wait my lovely readers!!! i'm gonna be honest tho... this wasn't the most fun chapter to write (maybe cause the reader and ellie aren't as horny as i would prefer lmao), but the narrative shall prosper regardless of my feelings. this may or may not be the second to last chapter of this series. idk yet, i'm still planning right nowwww. i might post a poll soon to help decide. anyway, thank you guys for being super patient while i wrote this chapter, so without further ado... thousands of bisous ofc <3 and please enjoy this angsty ass chapter!!

Stood before you was a very disappointed looking Joel. His deep brown eyes squinted with fatigue and restlessness; arms crossed over his chest. At the alert of his presence, you shut your eyes trying to come up with some way to save yourself—even though there was none. It was laugh worthy, really.  

I don’t wanna assume nothin'… So, I suggest you start explainin’ what in the hell’s bell’s is goin’ on here.

You were unsure if his southern accent was stronger because of his disappointment, or if he just sounded like that when he was tired. But, either way, the question was valid. What the hell was going on?  

He called your name, snapping you from the rushing thoughts in your head. “Huh?” Those words came out of you more like a sound than words and letters. you were a child all over again, struggling under the fist of authority. Followed by a deep sigh, walking toward the counter, leaning your hands on the cool, smooth marble top. “Ellie and I are… Just catching up. S’all there is to it, Joel.”

He echoed a sigh, running his hand over his dark, graying hair and beard—he didn’t believe you. Not that you even tried to come up with a good enough lie that would be believable. “Now, Bug…” Joel began, shaking his head. “I know you’re not a liar; Tommy and Maria sure as hell didn’t raise you to be one—“  

“Joel, please—“

“If I heard what I think I heard… In that bedroom of yours. You and Ellie were doin’ a lot more than just catching up!” He whisper-yelled, careful not to disturb your parents upstairs. The man could barely keep eye contact with you, pointing his finger, accusingly. “She has a girlfriend who is in that guesthouse—“  

“I know, I know—“  

“Then, what the hell were you thinkin’?”  

You solemnly sigh, having your actions thrown back in your face. It sucked because he was right. “We… We have unfinished history. It just happened.”  

Joel scoffed, averting his brown eyes. “Things like that don’t just happen…”  

He was right—sex doesn’t just happen. There are steps that lead to that pleasurable event; it doesn’t just happen, and you knew that. But it was easier to say it that way. As if the two of you sleeping together, kissing each other was all acts of fate and prophecy. Something you had no control over. Even though, control was never stricken from you. If anything, you were always grasping for it.  

You chose to invite Ellie into your room, into your body, into your mind—you wanted her more than anything.  

That was something you couldn’t be sorry about.  

“Please, don’t tell my parents.” You almost squeaked out, looking up at him like a child charged with punishment. If Maria and Tommy found out about this, she’d have your head! And Tommy will be trying to talk her down—it would be a mess. At twenty-five, it wasn’t that you were afraid of your parents; you just didn’t want to disappoint them. “We need some time to figure this out…”  The fear that they would regret bringing you into their life weighed heavy on you.

With a raised eyebrow, he pursed his lips in thought. “Does Ellie plan on breaking things off with Cat?”  

“Yeah, not right away, but yeah.”  

“Not right away?”  

“Thanksgiving— she doesn’t wanna do it today with everything goin’ on. And they live together, so she has to arrange a few things…” You trail off, deepening your eyebrows with worry. “Oh, my God… Is she two-timing me? Is Ellie two-timing me?” Slapping your hands to your forehead, you squeezed your eyes shut. What the fuck. What the fuck. You repeated curses in your mind.  You were spiraling yourself into a stupor.

Joel walked around the corner, stabilizing you by placing his hands on your shoulders. “Ellie is many things, but she’s not a two-timer… All I’m saying is to handle this with caution. You’re hurting another person doing this—“  

“Fuck, Joel, I know… I don’t need the reminder.”  

“I’m gonna talk to her about this… About resolving this.”

You look at him with a pointed glare. “Resolving— there’s nothing to resolve. If everything goes according to plan—“  

He grunted, rolling his eyes. “Things like this never go to plan. Come on, Bug, you’re smarter than this… You know better.” Joel told, narrowing his eyes. He walked around the counter to you, to squeeze your shoulder. But that didn’t change the fact that his words stung.  

You know better.  

You did know better, but you acted anyway. Perhaps, it was a mistake; it was a mistake you were willing to ride on until it met its end. Which could be one of two things: complete and utter destruction, or… Happiness. Why was there such a large gap between those two endings?  

“Ellie,” He began, shaking his head, filling you with insecurity. “You know how she can be… Impulsive at times.” Joel pressed his lips into a line, looking past you, in thought. “I’m not even sure if she realizes the gravity of what she’s doing to her or you— not until it blows up in her face, which it will if you two keep it up.”

So, the both of you just had to work harder at hiding it. For now, at least.  

He rubbed his hand together, glancing his eyes up the stairs. “I won’t say anything to your parents… Just do a better job of keeping this to yourselves, please.” The older man prepared to head back up, but he looked at you one last time. “This isn’t me agreeing with what y’all are doin’— because I don’t. I don’t agree nor do I support cheating.” He exhaled, shaking his head, disappointingly. Feet nearing the steps to ascend back to his bedroom. “Just get it together.”  

Joel left you to gather your thoughts—but there was nothing to gather. Your mind was already made; you’ve already dug a hole for yourself. Seeing it through was the only option. Perhaps, the two of you had to shape up, though. Tommy even gave a side glance before you’d hopped off the porch to grab the wine; Ellie needs to be more careful. And so do you.  

Shutting out the lights, you heavily creeped back up the stairs to your bedroom. The dim bedroom that had the remnants of your lover minced in the air… And under your pillow. Grabbing your laptop from the charger, you arranged your pillows to support your back—that’s when you noticed the red and white striped boxer shorts Ellie left behind. Even though, you purposely threw them at her to put on before you parted from one another.  

Holding out the underwear that was marked with arousal, you threatened to smell it. Truly. But, before you could, your conscience got the best of you. Wasn’t it creepy to smell someone’s underwear? Let alone, a woman's... Instead, you stuffed it in the box you kept under your bed—which, very well, could’ve been worse.  

Feeling the need to tell Ellie of their pending situation with Joel, you logged onto MySpace. There was a small green circle that appeared on her icon. She was already online.  

BugsWritersRoom: Hey… Just ran into Joel. Not great.  

There wasn’t a much of a long wait before she responded.  

StarlightWilliams: duck what happened?  

StarlightWilliams: fuck*  

Her correction made you chuckle.  

BugsWritersRoom: He heard us. That’s what happened.  

BugsWritersRoom: We have to do better. Stop making everything so obvious…

BugsWritersRoom: At least, until you break up with Cat.  

There was a long pause in her responses. Longer than you’d anticipate her response would take.  

StarlightWilliams: noted.

Ellie’s response was dryer than you expected it to be, but the fatigue washing over you forbid you from investigating it.

Shutting your laptop, you nuzzled into your pillows with the auburn-haired artist on your mind. It was only right that you gave the relationship another chance; if it inevitably ends, you just hope it would be less explosive than last time. Amicable. Where the two of you could actually stand to be around each other after the fact.

If you had it your way, though, you’d never want to part from her again. It was easy to believe that Ellie was your person. Somebody who was only perfect for you. In a world of feeling nothing, she made you feel something more than lust or forced romanticism.  

When morning came, you were exhausted as fuck, to say the least. Awakened by your programmed alarm, and a blaring rooster that didn’t know how to shut the hell up after his first few yodels.  

Meandering down the stairs, you were told to speed through the morning chores, to begin help with the cooking, which you didn’t mind. However, Ellie wasn’t there for the spiel. Joel had appeared, saying that she was going to be little late. At the sight of him, you couldn’t help but be struck with anxiety. Although, he looked and acted the same as he always did.

Either way, you fed the chickens, groomed, and fed the horses—and that’s when she found you. Brushing Tokyo and feeding fresh carrots to keep him entertained and focused. He was a horse who only responded to pleasantries; Tokyo was a man of high honor. “Someone’s bein’ a good horse.” Ellie cooed, approaching you and Tokyo with her hands stuffed in the pockets of her jeans.

There was something off about her demeanor. Her shoulders were stiffened, cheeks flushed enough to insinuate an altercation. In addition to that pinched line between her thick eyebrows.  

There definitely was one, but she wasn’t going to admit that to you. Joel and Ellie were officially on bad terms—but she said nothing about that because she doesn’t want to alarm you.  

“Where were you this earlier? I thought I was helping you get in routine for your new farmhand position…” You tossed the brush aside, crossing your arms over your chest. Ellie didn’t stop walking until her body collided with yours. Hand finding a comfortable place along your jaw, preparing to pull you in toward her lips. Placing two fingers over her lips, you pull back. “What the hell are you doing?” You chuckle, looking around for any unwanted eyes.

Her hands slid down you arms, shoulder slumping. “What part of we need to do better do you not understand?” You questioned, looking intently into her dilated eyes.

Ellie ran a hand over her hair, sighing, tiredly. “What is wrong with you?” You press, deepening her eyebrows.  Suddenly feeling the need to comfort her.

The truth was, she was stressed. Joel had stressed her out. He found out about them and was pressing Ellie to tell Cat about it—or break up with her because she deserves to know the truth. But, today, Cat woke up like the happiest person alive, which was off brand for her. She showered Ellie with kisses she didn’t want and hopped up to make breakfast for them. It was weird, but she was happy; Ellie doesn’t want to ruin that. She just wanted to linger in the happiness that was the memory of your lips on hers.

“I just woke up feelin’ funky— it’s nothing…” She looked down, twisting her foot into the sprawled hay over the ground. “A kiss could help my condition, though…” Ellie raised a scarred brow, lips curling at the end.  

Pressing your lips into a line, you look over her shoulder than yours—making sure there aren’t any prying or peeving eyes. “Just one…” You mutter, pulling her close by the material of her unzipped jacket. She smirked against your lips, moving them in sync with yours.

The tenseness in her muscles loosened and relaxed under your touch, as she released a breath of fresh air against your face through her nose. Placing her soft, yet calloused hand at the curve of your jaw. Ellie made the kiss deeper by dragging her tongue against your bottom lip, begging for more—but you pulled away. She chased your lips, causing you to giggle as you turned your face. “I have a full plate this morning… I could use your help— as long as you stay focused!” You prodded your index finger at her chest. “Plus, it’ll help for when it’s just you on the farm.”

“Oh, I can stay focused.” She crossed her arms, overzealously.  

“Okay,” You snicker. “Well, why don’t we split up to cover more ground?”  

Her features fell. “Split up? Hey, I didn’t agree to splitting up.” Ellie pouted, taking a step closer to you. Playing with the frayed hem of the flannel sticking out from under your jacket.  

Splitting up was the best course of action, so you could begin helping your mother in the kitchen—because you know she needs it. Unless Cat’s planning to take your place on that front. Anyway, them splitting up could help their developing case with Joel. You want to prove to him that you’re as smart as he think you are. That you’re not blindly love struck by a destructive idea—that the words he told you meant something. And, in a way, helping Ellie with her impulsivity.  

“It’s for the best, Els. You get to put to work what you learned these past few mornings— so it’ll really stick.” You spoke, positively. “And there’s another half of the farm that you’re inexperienced with… So, it’s better if I just run through it alone.” You nod with a friendly smile on your lips. Almost too friendly.  

“Hm…” Ellie hummed, peering around the horse barn.  

“I already did half the work; the chicken’s and horses are already fed. I’m, basically, done with grooming Tokyo— just detangle his mane and tail, and do that same process with Sarah, which should be easy because she’s still a baby and barely has any hair.” You rambled like a professional farmer. It truly was muscle memory getting back into the chores.  

“Wait, what’s the process…?”  

“There’s a bucket of soap and water,” You point to the bucket at door of the horses’ space. “Use that to help with the brushing and detangling. That’s the process. Don’t worry about the horse shoes— my dad does all that.” You waved your hand, then reached into your coat to grab the notepad. Ripping the thin paper from the rings, you hand it over. “After this, all you have left is the garden. So, whenever you’re done, come find me.”  

Ellie took the note paper from your hands, plucking it with her fingers. “Uhm, if I have any questions…? What if I do something wrong?”  

You sighed, snatching the paper back from her. “Trust yourself. You’ve done this before, Ellie. But if you have any questions… Here’s my cell. I have it on me.” You scribble down your phone number, handing it back to her.  

She giggled, taking the paper back. “You just gave me your digits…” Ellie teased, dangling the page in front of you.  

“For professional purposes only.” You winked, before leaving her to finish the horse grooming.  

When you skipped away, Ellie didn’t quite know how to take your place. After finishing up Tokyo, walking him to his open space to grift along with the other horses, Sarah was next. And you failed to mention that she was a bit of runner when it came to retrieving her.  

It’s been made clear that she was already fucking up—said by Joel Miller—so, she didn’t want to fuck up the only job she had. The job you gave her.  

So, instead of moping and overthinking the words of her adoptive father, she looked to that lined notebook paper as if it were the Bible. Ellie couldn’t let you down over something as specific as farming chores. These were living beings. If she failed to do this correctly, you may never fall into her how she hoped

Meanwhile, you hustled cows and goats, hastily. Rain boots splashing into mud and manure, leaving marks along its battered rubber soles. Tucked into your back pocket, your phone began to vibrate, sounding off the ringtone of your choosing. Without glancing at the caller ID—assuming it was Ellie. You pressed the phone button.  

“Calling already?” You raised an eyebrow, while monitoring the chaotic goats around you. They were competitive eaters who’d rather trample over one another to eat their food, than stand by for their own servings. You scold them under your breath, pushing them off each other.  

“You want me to come to dinner tonight, or not?” She snickered on the other side of the line.  

“Oh, Abby, hey… Sorry that was meant for someone else— it’s been a long morning.” You pinched the bridge of your nose, shaking your head. “Yeah, I still want you to come. What’s up?”  

Abby laughed, yawning. Did she just wake up? “When’s your family having dinner tonight— wanna make sure I’m planning accordingly.” There was raspiness to her voice that was soothing to your ears.  

Rubbing a hand over your forehead, you thought. It was basically undetermined, but you had dinner around the same time every year. Six-ish. Seven-ish. “Sometime around six, I think. What? You plannin’ on makin’ a good impression?” Pinching the phone between the side of your face and shoulder, you pulled one of the goats back from the trough by her back legs.

“Stop it, Frankie!” She bleated in response.  

“Was that a goat I just heard?”  

“No, it was Frankie— she’s worse than a goat. She’s, like, goat-fucking-three thousand— fuck! Hold on.” She placed the phone on a bucket, to stalk over to the problematic goat trying to fight her own sibling. “You’re pushing it. You are pushing it, Francine Miller!” Gripping the antlers that rose from her skull, you forced her to look at you. “This isn’t your food— that’s your food. Over there.”  

Picking her up, wrapping your arms around her stomach, you lifted her toward her own trough. That a few other goats huddled at to feast on their breakfast. “If I see you over there bothering your brothers again, I’m gon’ put you right back in that barn— don’t mess with me.”

You walked back to that bucket, picking up the small silver flip phone placed sloppily in the middle. “Sorry about that… But, yeah, sometime around six.” A tired sigh fell from your lips.  

“That southern drawl of yours… Getting stronger by the day.” She chuckled, in amusement. You heard her shuffling against cloth—perhaps, blankets and pillows.  

“The price of being around my family for too long.” You match her brief chuckle, twisting your toe into the dirt.  

“I’m certainly not complaining.” Abby commented, inhaling deeply. “Well, I’ll be there for six— unless you tell me otherwise…”  

“All right, sounds good, Abby.”  

“All right, bye, babe.”  

Babe.

The pet name made you freeze, but before you could say anything, she hung up the phone. You clenched you phone in your hand, gripping it tight enough for the blood to drain from your knuckles. Babe—since fucking when?  

A snicker caught your attention, causing you to swivel around on your toes. Her shiny, obsidian hair was tucked under a knit beanie. The medium-length blunt ends sticking out from the bottom, hanging over the shoulders of her jacket. A jacket that was sickeningly similar to one of Ellie’s—it most likely was.  

“Who’s this lucky girl… Abby?” She perked a slender eyebrow, brown eyes boring through you. Slightly squinting with taut features.  

You waved your hand before placing them on your hips. “A girl I met in the city. She’s up here with some friends— thought I’d invite her to dinner. She's the one who dropped me off the other night.” You explained, shrugging at your last word. After sleeping with her girlfriend, the least you could do was open with her.   

Cat leaned over the wooden fence, instead of coming inside. Her hands balling together in front of her body to keep her exposed skin warm. “Oh, really? What’s the status between the two of you? Since you’re… Inviting her to Thanksgiving dinner ‘n all?” She questioned, lips pressing together.  

There was something bitter in her speech that rubbed you the wrong way. But, nonetheless, you answered. “It’s complicated…” A laugh falls from your lips—fake and deceiving. “It’s been off and on for about a year— believe it or not.”  

“I believe it.” Cat chortled behind a fist. “Dating in New York is hard. People just don’t take relationships seriously anymore— I totally get it.” Her eyes rolled as she spoke, shiny lips curling at the corners.  

Awkwardly, you nod. Her tone alarming you once more. “Yeah… Well, I need to get back to this— the quicker this is over the better.”  

“Right…”  

“Are you planning on helping the parents cook, or…”  

She crossed her arms, lips frowning, slightly. “Yeah. Later, I’m helping Joel and Tommy with the steak. I’ve never really cooked steak before so… Wish me luck.” Cat chuckled, stepping back from the fence. “I’ll let you get back to work, though…” She began to walk off, after you waved, halfheartedly. Pausing in the well-kept grass, she looked over her shoulder. “Could you point me in the direction of my girlfriend? I’m sure you know where she is.”  

Hm.  

“Uh, yeah, sure— She’s either in the horse barn or the greenhouse… I would check the horse barn first.” You point towards the wooden paneled barn some meters away. My girlfriend. Did that not sound harsh? There was such diction in her proclamation for Ellie. It was an iron bar being burned into your chest, over your heart like a branding.  

She didn’t say much of a thank you, only a head nod and a wave. Leaving you standing in the same patch of mud you were standing in when she arrived. That interaction felt oddly tangy, rather than sweet—like usual. Of course, you had your doubts about Cat, but this time it felt different. So much different.

For another thirty minutes, you monitored Frankie and the other goats. Giving her a bunch of kisses to make up for your irate behavior—after all, she was behaving better; she deserved them!

Finishing your work, you didn’t realize until your stepped into the house—leaving your shoes on the porch—that Ellie didn’t call or text you about anything. She was supposed to meet you when she finished her side of the chores, but she never showed. It was too cold to wait around for her, so you trotted back to the house. And it’s not like you had her number; she had yours.  

In the back of your mind, you worried about the interaction she had with Cat. Why wouldn’t you? As the days went by, you were growing in possessiveness of someone that wasn’t even yours. She used to be, but that wouldn’t hold up in court.  

You noticed Maria working in the kitchen, working on small side dishes. Before you jogged up the stairs, you let her know that you’d be back after a warm shower. Cooking food while smelling like actual animal shit wasn’t a great mix.

Tommy had already put the television on the channel where the game was playing. The direct speech of sports anchors playing as background noise on the first floor--bouncing off the walls.  

When you walked up the stairs, you heard the soft tune of Joel strumming and tuning his new guitar from his bedroom. It soothed your ears—his playing always did. There was a song he used to play for you, and sometimes Ellie, when you were teenagers. Then, after while, she began to play it for you. Sat in the corner of your reading nook, in a t-shirt and plaid boxers (or whatever underwear she was wearing), strumming at the tough strings of her guitar. Looking into your eyes like you were unreal.

Everyone seemed to be doing something on this busy morning. And you were soon to jump right in.  

Steam opened your pores as you cleansed the dirt and grime off your skin. You attempted not to drown within your own thoughts while the showering. Echoes of your parents’ voices bounced around your mind, along with Joel’s. It was overwhelming. You feared they’d never forgive you if they found out what you and Ellie were doing—or had done. Then, there was Cat; a part of you felt bad for her. That she was getting caught in the middle of unfinished business… Clearly, your attempt at clearing your head didn’t work.  

Shutting off the shower, smelling like a happy mixture of vanilla and coconut, you wrapped yourself in a towel to walk to your bedroom. When you entered, you didn’t notice the frame of your estranged lover sitting on your bed—until you pivoted on damp feet. “Shit, Ellie… What the hell are you doing?” You gasp, clenching onto the material of the old beach towel you were using to dry off.  

Her back was facing you, eyes cast toward the paneled window of your reading nook. The auburn strands of her hair were damp, leaving marks on the shoulders and back of her grey sweatshirt.  

“She fucking knows…”  

Your eyebrows stitched together, trying to take in what the woman before you had said. Shutting your door with a sigh, you turn back around slowly. “What do you mean…?” Your voice trembled, wanting clarification even though you already knew what she meant. That hole that you dug was only getting deeper. Or, perhaps, not. It’s already reached max depth.

Ellie peered over her shoulder, the whites of her eyes unnerved. Freckled cheeks flushed to oblivion. “You PM’d me last night on MySpace…”  

“Yeah…?” You slowly approached her, shrugging your shoulders. Although, your heart was racing—beating throughout your entire body. If that was even possible.  

“When I got back to the guesthouse last night, I basically conked out, y/n.” Ellie told, finally shifting her body to see your stunned frame in its entirety. Water droplets dripping down your arms and legs; muscles tightening in anticipation.  

A hand shot over your mouth, eyebrows furrowing in remorse. If she went right to sleep, then someone else had been responding to you—and you don’t believe in ghosts. “Please, tell me you’re fucking with me.”  

She placed her head in her hands. “I wish I was…” Ellie bounced her leg, nervously. “Why the fuck would you mention anything that happened over the internet?” Her tone shifted, scolding you with the same pair of eyes that once caressed your skin with adoration.

“I had no other way to tell you about Joel. I was trying to warn you—“  

“Yeah, what a warning that was.”  

You scoff, crossing your arms. “Okay, hold on… How do you know about this? D— Did she confront you— or what?”  

She sighed. “She came and talked to me while I was grooming Sarah— Also, you forgot to mention that she doesn’t like to be brushed…!” Her round features were pulled taut, glaring at you.  

“I met her, like, once, Ellie. How would I know that she doesn’t like to be brushed?” You retorted, kicking out a leg, narrowing your eyes. “And… She’s a fucking baby. You should’ve expected that.”

“She said if I don’t admit what I did by tonight… She’s gonna fucking do it.”  

You bunched your eyebrows, shaking your head—utterly confused. “She’s gonna fucking do what? Wh— What is this, Ellie— fucking One Tree Hill?!” It was incredulous for Cat to make such a threat. Theatricals were never your choice of handling things. Hence the last time an explosive episode happened on the farm. You shut down and close off—it’s always too much!  

The auburn-haired woman’s feature slightly softened, looking up at you from her seated position.

Noticing the tensing in your body—seeing that face she swore she never wanted to see again. “Uhm, what did you say…?” You questioned, carefully with pinched lips and drifting eyes.  

“I said that I would…”  

Record scratch. Again. How many of those were you going to experience in a single week?

“Ellie—!”  

“To alleviate some of her frustration—!” She tried.

“I don’t give a fuck why you agreed to her stupid threat, Ellie— it’s the fact that you did!” You paced, squeezing the bridge of your nose. Thinking. Hard. Your voice had boomed, forgetting that the walls weren’t thick. “I will not have this random emo chick ruin the relationship I have with my parents… Because she wants to get back at you.”  

She leaned back on her hands, shrugging. “And you… She’s getting back at you, too.”  

“Seriously.” You snapped your head toward her, blinking with blossoming anger.  

“Dead serious.” Ellie held your eyes, courageously. She never liked seeing you angry, but boy, did it set her skin on fire. You were always so concerned with how people perceived you, that you avoided acting within your nature. Even though, in your truest nature, you were the most beautiful thing.  

You pointed a finger at her, strolling toward her. “Is this funny to you?”  

“Is there a smile on my face?” She retorted, looking up at you through her thick, batting lashes.

“You look amused—“  

“I am.” She simply stated, causing you to raise an eyebrow. “Because you’ve never changed, y/n. It’s always appearances with you— for everything.” You rolled your eyes at that, scoffing under your breath. What did she know? “Little-miss-perfect… Always has to do the right thing— not because she wants to, but because she wants others to notice that she does.”

Her words sounded familiar. More put together, but familiar.  

“It’s fucking pathetic, babe—“

“Get hell the out of my room.” The words came from you like a whisper with pinched lips, clenching your fists at your sides. Her and her name-calling.

Ellie stood up, chest nearly touching the towel that wrapped around you. Chest to chest. “Can you think about us for one second?” Her fingers tethered to your bare skin, dancing up your arms. “Cat’s makin’ our karma come quick— embarrassing us in front of our family. And, yeah, we did a fucked-up thing. I can admit and make peace with that because I wanna be with you.” She squeezed your shoulders, examining your tight features. Ellie reached her hand to grace your cheek, but you turned away.  

A sigh fell from her lips, pulling away from your body. “And all you can think about is your parents… What they would think?” Ellie scoffed, running her hand through her damp strands. “You’re an adult—! And you, certainly, made an adult decision to fuck me the other night— so this is your fault as much as it is mine.” She lectured. Ellie Williams was lecturing you. Oh, how the tables turn.

“Fucking stand in it.” The artist grit, pointing her finger to the ground. “That’s you’re fuckin’ problem. Always wanting to be perfect— but you’re not! Not even close.”

Tears began to build in the corner of your eyes, lips quivering at her words. Heart wrenching at her stern tone. “And I fucking love you for it…” Ellie appeared dejected, gliding toward your door. Adhering to the command you gave her: Get out. “But if your parents’ opinion weigh heavier… Fine.”  

A beat meandered through the room, while Ellie’s hand hovered over the handle.

“I realized… After Cat found me in the barn that…” She chewed on her lip. “I’m not ashamed of what we did— which is why I don’t mind telling the truth. It may be a threat for her but… it’s a release for me.”

A sob shockingly came from your throat, plopping onto your reading nook. The strength of your neck unable to hold up your head—it dropped into your hands to cover your face. “Please,” Your breath hitched, peeking through your fingers. “Ellie, please, don’t say anything. Don’t ruin tonight over something…Something fickle.”  

Fickle?

She deepened her eyebrows in offense before pulling open the door. “I’m telling them whether you like it or not. Shape up or ship the fuck out.” Ellie pushed through the door, making sure to shut it light enough not to cause a stir, but heavy enough to unsettle you further.  

To Ellie’s core, she was a pusher; a person who liked to push others—for better or for worse. Just depended on the day, and the person. Now, in her past, she’s made the mistake of pushing you into a worser version of yourself. And she almost did it again, but she revised her actions efficiently. She corrected it. Switched it around like a puzzle-piece placed in the wrong spot.  

You needed to learn how to stand in your decision—good or bad—and not cowering within them. There’s no point in begging for a person’s forgiveness once you’ve done something wrong. Accountability and apologies are all a person has. And your parents—pssh; you shouldn’t be worrying about that so much.  

Tommy and Maria loved you more than life itself, and Ellie understood why because she did, too.  

There was nothing you could do to scarlet letter your persona. Absolutely nothing.  

Even after titling the love you and Ellie embraced fickle; she could never turn her face from you— not for long anyway.  

Dragging her feet down the hall, old converse sliding against the wood, eyes watering with warm tears in the corner of her eyes; a door creaked open. An aged pair of brown eyes, pushing though the slot. “Everything all right, kiddo…?”

Slowly, she turned her head to look at him. Olive eyes attempting to blink back tears at the sound of his softened, gravelly voice. Sniffling, her legs carried her toward him, wrapping her arms around his soft abdomen, tucking her head into his chest.  

Nothing came from her but soft, stressed cries. Fingers clenching onto the fabric of his flannel behind his back.

As much as this situation was a lot for you, it was a lot for her as well—just in a different way, for a different reason.

In your room, you were still on that reading nook in your towel. Your body was was dry, so the old cloth scratched and tickled your skin. It was deserving for you to be uncomfortable. Ellie was right; you were a little pathetic—for lack of better word.  

You spent so much time wanting to fix yourself. Be the best version of yourself. And that wasn’t Tommy or Maria’s fault, it was your own. When you were first adopted, sent to a new school, you had a full out meltdown. Some kid had been picking on you for being quiet, and you escalated the situation to a place that it didn’t need to go. As in: using your fists to defend yourself. From then, you were thrown into therapy and had to relearn that fighting wasn’t the answer. Maria aided that by drilling into your head that violence was something that could get you into trouble.  

So, how did the way people perceived you become such a focus? Well, Maria’s scoldings of your behavior translated in your head—along with trauma of past foster homes and neglectful parents—that what people saw of you mattered more than your own conclusions. They thought, therefore you were.  

You failed to fact-check. You failed to have a personal understanding of your own behavior. It was rare for you to make peace with your own actions—good or bad. You were always stuck on what a person would think of you; especially, your parent’s. Perhaps, there was still a part of you that felt you needed to prove that you worth caring for. Worth supporting. 

That pressure continues and continues and continues to shove your head underwater no matter how many times your flail and beg for air.  

It was obnoxious. It is obnoxious. You’re obnoxious.  

Love isn’t conditional. It’s a feeling that tethers people to one another despite anything. Despite flaws and self-guilts—it perseveres. That concept shouldn’t be difficult to grasp because, after all Ellie had said on that one unfaithful afternoon, you still loved her. You loved her at seventeen, and you love her at twenty-five. Nothing has changed. Nothing will change.  

And the same applied for your parents to you.  

It was fucking physics and you were a prodigal humanities student who looked at STEM in contempt.

Solemnly, you dressed into a pair of comfy clothes. Attempting to replace the frown that stuck to your lips, although your body was already weakened from your emotions. Surprisingly, a cigarette couldn’t cure your overthinking mind—not this time. There was no point in pulling from one.  

After squeezing eye drops into your eyes to eliminate the irritated veins in your sclera’s, you stomped down the wooden stairs. When your mother noticed you, she smiled. Her sparkling white teeth glimmering in your eyes—warm and kind. “Ellie and Joel are gonna be baking the pie at the guesthouse… So, the kitchen is ours.” Maria chuckled to herself, kneading the dough for her legendary biscuits.  

“I know how much you hate overcrowded kitchens…” You respond, grabbing the apron with your nickname stitched on the front—Bug. She did a double take, looking from the dough in her hands. Noticing that unfortunate look on your face, and that blandness in your tone.  

Maria sighed, setting the dough aside, leaning her flour covered hands against the counter. “Not you, too… What the hell is in the air today?” She shook her head, averting her eyes to you with intensity. “What’s goin’ on with you— Ellie had just come down here with that same look on her face.”  

“What look?”  

“That look.”  

You pressed your lips into a line, looking around in thought. It was easier to lie and say something unrelated but that was fruitless idea. So, you said nothing, walking over to the cornbread she left out to begin working on the stuffing.  

Raising an eyebrow, she followed you with her icy irises. She then called you your full name, which sent chills down you spine.

You sucked your teeth, meeting her stern eyes. “Ellie and I had sex…” You mutter, peering down to your shaking hands.  

“What…?”  

It was difficult to say aloud to your mother, but that the rest came behind swiftly. “And Cat found out because I had a run-in with Joel— he heard, and I wanted to let Ellie know… So, I private messaged her on MySpace, but turns out, she wasn’t the one responding to me; Cat was.” You puffed air from your lips. “This morning, she came by to ask where Ellie was, so I told her she was in the horse barn. Come to find out, she confronted her, threatening to air all of our shit out to you and dad and Joel as a consequence.”

“Tommy, get in here.” She asserted to her husband focused on the television, keeping her wide eyes on you.

Another sigh came from you, watching as your father navigated into the kitchen. “After my shower, Ellie was in my room and that’s when she told me. We got into it a little bit… Uhm, because she told me that she was gonna tell y’all that we slept together and that pissed me off— because why would she do that?” You scoff, not noticing the glances your father was making to your mother as you unloaded this heavily detailed bundle of information. “How could she be so quick to admit that we had sex to our family that has known us since we were children? That we committed fucking adultery while her girlfriend was only, like, ten meters away—“  

“Honey,” Tommy tried, but you held up a finger.  

“Let me finish.” Your eyes welled with tears, looking at your fathers aging features. “I couldn’t understand how she was so okay with it, but, now, I do. I think I do…” You glance between the two people hovering around you. “The only reason why I came up with the idea— yeah, I’m the one who came up with it… To hookup. Sue me— was because I wanted to see if what was happening between us was real. And it fucking was!”  

“I know what we did was wrong. I knew it was wrong when I decided to go through with it… I begged Ellie not to say anything— which is ironic considering I’m the one talkin’.” You chuckled, wiping a warm tear that slipped from your eyes. “I was afraid of what you guys would think of me. That you wouldn’t love me anymore because of what I did— because you didn’t raise a liar…” Pausing, you released a shaky breath. “Verbatim: she told me to shape up… Or ship the fuck out. I chose the latter because… You didn’t raise a coward either.”  

They blinked at you.  

“I love Ellie. I really do, and yeah, we should’ve gone about this differently— but we didn’t. And I’m sorry.” Curtly, you nodded your head, adjusting your shoulder to stand up straighter. “I’m so grateful that you guys are my parents— you chose to be here and support me. The least I can do is be honest with you. Even if that results in your disappointment.”  

The tears had dried up in your eyes sometime amid your ramble of humility. Confidence growing with every word that you spoke. Ellie’s words rang through your skull about your consistent jig of morality. Fuckup’s don’t make you nor should they break you.  

Shit happens!

Their quietness made you tremble out of that shell of confidence you manifested, making you breathe a little heavier and feel a little more uncomfortable within your skin. You watched as they looked at each other. Maria sporting a mixture of concern and disappointment on her features—more disappointment than concern. And, Tommy, the complete opposite.  

“You know, what? I’ll let you two… Sit on this.” You walk past them, toward the fridge. In the door, there was both glass bottles and cans of beer—Miller Lite and Heineken. You grabbed the green glass bottle by the neck, “I’m gonna have a beer…” Walking toward the back door with horse barn on your mind.  

It was like a weight lifted off your shoulders after you confessed. Being honest with your thoughts about the whole situation made you feel lighter—feather allowing the wind to guide her, type of light. It was freeing to stand in her truth.

The cool breeze of autumn bit at your exposed arms, and the sliver of skin between the hem of your top and the hip line of your sweats. But because you were riding on the high of your confession, you didn’t feel the chill. You never were much of a beer person—it never made sense for you to drink. Yeast was never your thing, but after your confession, you had a craving for it. The beer, not so much the yeast. You overcame something big—you cried yourself into a new you. A better you.

And not that surface-better person you were trying or pretending to be.  

When you arrived at the barn, you didn’t forget to pet the grazing horses near you before entering. Remnants of Ellie’s work lingered around, but there was no sight of her. Perhaps, it was for the best. Reaching for one of the bridles hanging on an iron hook, you used the belt to pluck off the tin cap that topped the bottle.  

Settling in scattered hay, you plopped onto the ground, taking a large sip. Gritting your teeth at the flavor—still, wasn’t much of a fan. Although, she lingered close to her mother, Sarah began to drift toward you. Curiosity ruling her developing brain. You reached out to her, scratching the short tufts of her blonde hair.  

She leaned into your hand, huffing air from her nostrils. It made you smile, her comfortability with you after knowing her for such a short time. “Oh, Sarah…” You sighed, wistfully.  

From behind her, in the distance, you see your mother’s figure approaching you. You take in a nervous breath, preparing for her, potentially, harsh words.  

Maria’s boots crunched along the sprawled hay, taking her time to sit beside you. Leaning her against the same wooden wall you did. She ran her hand through her short blonde hair, sighing as her shorter pieces of her hair fell right back into place. “If…” She began, thoughtfully. “I’ve ever given you a reason to think that I— we could ever stop loving you, y/n; that was my mistake. I wanna start there. Out of everything that you said in there… That’s what disappointed me most.”  

Your eyes flicker to hers, briefly. Sarah had retreated back towards her mother. “Yeah, I must admit… I don’t wanna see my daughter, my kid, doing something worth regretting— no parent wants to see that.” She shook her head, glancing back at the horses. “And, yes, I am disappointed that you did something of this nature… But I know your heart, honey.” Maria reached her hand to your bent knee, caressing with her thumb.  

The heat in your cheeks and eyes increased with emotion. “I’ll never forget that look on your face when we surprised you with those papers.” She smiled at the memory, and you leaned into her as if it were muscle memory. “You were… Relieved. And, from that day forward, Tommy and I promised to do right by you. To love you how you deserved to be loved— to prove that you deserved to be loved despite what the world had already managed to convince you.”  

You wrapped your hand around the one on your knee while tears dripped from the corners of your eyes. “You think something like this would change my mind?” She looked down at you leaning her shoulder.  

“Yeah… I guess…” You insecurely blinked at her. Feeling like the very thirteen-year-old she was referencing.  

The blonde woman shook her head, placing a hand on your cooling cheek. “Well, that’s the farthest from the truth, Bug.” Her lips plotted against your forehead, comfortingly. “Your father and I will love you until we’re cold in the ground—“  

“Mom, don’t say that.” You whined, sniffling.  

“Probably, beyond that—“  

“Mom!”  

She snickered, peeling the beer from your fingers, and taking a sip for herself. “I don’t know how they tolerate this stuff.” Maria grimaced, shaking her head, setting it aside. “So… What’s the course of action now that everybody knows this big secret?”  

You pull from her, leaning your head against the wall. “I don’t know…” You sighed, shutting your eyes. “Ellie is pissed at me—“  

“For…?” She perked a slender eyebrow.  

“Because… I called our situation fickle to get her to not say anything, but clearly, that didn’t work.” You shook your head. “I guess, I’m the impulsive one now.”  

Maria hummed. “Looks like you have a lot to clear up.”  

You inhaled, peering at her. “Looks like it.” With another breathy sigh, you shook your head.

“Fuck, and Cat.” You slapped your hand against your forehead.

“Ah. You know, she has every right to be upset?”  

“Of course, I do. But, to be fair…”  

“Nope—“  

“Ellie came up here to get away from her— that’s what she told me!”  

Your mother scolded you, calling you by your full name—because that was her super power. But, you ignored her, sitting up straight to prove your point. “She was living in the biggest, most creative city in the world and felt crowded? How does that make sense?”  

She scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Maybe… Maybe this is what they needed.” You shrugged.  

Maria stood to her feet, offering you a hand. “Let’s not get caught up in the little details— you have some apologizing to do.”  

“Ugh! I know, I know…” You took her hand, hopping to your feet. She bent down, picking up the beer bottle by the throat.

“But before that, you need to cover up those arms, and get to work in that kitchen— because, we have guests.” As your mother ushered you back into the house, you dragged your slippers against the ground, finding your way back inside the house with a newfound comfort.

Almost an hour earlier, the guesthouse was bluntly silent. Nothing but the slight huffing of Joel kneading dough and the crunching of breadcrumbs from Ellie. There wasn’t much conversation; only the actions of their priorities fr dinner. Cat had locked herself in the bedroom, probably, plotting her next attack.

Joel made a point to keep his eyes on Ellie—and Cat—to make sure nothing crazy happened. Cheating situations made people a little tense at times.  

“So… Ellie, what song are you planning on playin’ tonight?” He tried, beginning to roll out the dough; flat to place in the round tin pan.  

She sighed, glancing at him with a dismissive glare. “I’m not playin’ tonight…”  

“Come on, it’s tradition—“  

“Fuck, tradition! I’m not doing it. Can we move on?”  

He huffed, placing the wooden roller on the floured counter. “I think you need to cut her some slack, kiddo. She didn’t mean to—“  

“I don’t care what she meant—“  

“Can you let me finish?” He raised an eyebrow, pointing an index finger that was caked with white flour. Ellie bunched her lips together, rolling her eyes. “Now, Ellie, I know you’re upset with y/n, with how the situation panned out— I get it. But don’t let your frustration cloud your judgement.” He told. “I spoke to her long before you did. I don’t believe for a second that she truly thinks that your relationship is fickle.”  

He inhaled, scratching the back of his neck. “Sometimes we say things that we don’t mean— I’m sure you know about that.”  

She ran her tongue over her lips, tapping her foot against the floor. Thinking back to a few years ago when she exploded on Joel and you. Ellie was good for that—saying things she didn’t mean. “I mean, I’ve said a few things to Tommy in my day.”  

“Joel…” She shook her head. “I don’t even know if it’s that alone— I…” Ellie struggled to verbalize, gesticulating with her hands and fingers as words attempted to materialize behind her teeth. “She’s always choosing her parents over me— over everything and everyone. Really, it’s doing her a disservice—“  

The artist began to rant like her life depended on it. Of course, in a low enough tone where her girlfriend in the other room couldn’t hear. Joel just watched a listened, as her features contorted with annoyance. But, within her big, earthy eyes, Ellie told on herself. Her claims didn’t come from hatred, or even contempt—it came from her adoration of you.  

In the corner of the room, relied the piece she’s been working on since the day of her arrival, or rather, the night of. It was no longer covered with a white, paint-stained sheet. Her work had been exposed to the light due to a quick argument between her and Cat before Joel came to save the day. It was a colored-in image of you in front of that old shed. A joint rested between your index and middle finger with a look of relaxation was on your smoothly stroked features. Ellie made sure to depict you in your most comfortable state.  

If only he could see her sketch book.  

“Ellie, you have to break up with her.”  

She paused, mid-sentence. “What?”  

“Matter of fact, you need to break up with Cat— now.”

Uncomfortably, she shifted on her bare feet. “But… The pie…”  

He chortled, averting his eyes to the art piece at the corner of the room. “Priorities, Ellie. Priorities.” Joel leaned his hip against the marble counter. “Go in there, break up with her— as kindly as you can. Then, offer to drive her to the train station. If she declines, insist. If you go now, you should make it back before dinner. You know Maria will have a cow if you’re late.”

Briefly, she thought to herself. Ellie was never the type to be afraid of confrontation—she may have hesitated a few times… But she was never afraid. She never expected her actions to be thrown into her face so quickly, though. The memory of Cat approaching Ellie in that barn sent chills down her spine, because she had an inkling that something was wrong the minute she had appeared. Her dark brown eyes were squinty and boring through her as she approached. At first, Ellie didn’t notice Cat’s slender frame walking up to her—as she were hyper-focused on tending to the small, blonde-haired foal.

They have been together for nearly a year, so of course, the freckled artist knew when she was truly upset. Cat was a woman of subtly, despite her tattoos and silver piercings. Her anger pressed through with an even tone, and a stiff posture; rather than, expression through loud voices and firm fist curls. They are polar opposites in that way. That is what originally attracted Ellie to her—but in that moment, she shivered.

It was like whiplash, comparing how she woke up to how she appeared in front of Ellie in that moment. Making her wonder, if that happy act was all lie? It most certainly was.

Cat somehow surpassed a level of straightforwardness that Ellie was comfortable with, telling her exactly how it was: Why she made breakfast for her this morning, the MySpace conversation (why she pretended to be her), her certainty of her infidelity, and the official threat that set everything off the rails. Easily, her intention was to embarrass Ellie and you. She sensed the timidness that you hid behind and wanted to use it against you. She assumed, based off the history between you and Ellie, that the only way for Ellie to be affected is to make an example of you. However, she imagined that it would be more difficult for her girlfriend to confess her actions first.

You weren’t particularly obvious with what happened between the two of you, but she would have to be stupid to not assume that it was a sexual thing. But when Cat approached Ellie with the statement: You told me you were going on a run. She didn’t expect to be met with immediate truth. Her olive eyes had grown wide for only a second, before words began to just flood from her like an open dam. Ellie couldn’t stop herself.

Perhaps, it was the complaints of you echoing in her head. Your fervent concerns about going back to Cat—it made her feel guilty; so, she confessed as if she were bribed to tell the truth and was content with the consequences. All the while, brushing the soft, blunt hairs of Sarah.

Ellie assumed that was why Cat made a threat to support her dominance. That made her hesitate a bit—admitting to her family that her and an old flame, that ended horribly in their teenagerhood, had secret sex in the middle of the night? Despite having a girlfriend—who could ever do such a thing?

Apparently, Ellie.

Straightening her shoulders, she didn’t back down, though. She took full accountability for her behavior, claiming that she would be the one to tell them what she did—although, she did find that to be dramatic. It wasn’t until Ellie was checking off the chores list in the garden, when she realized her fate had a drastic connection to you.

You weren’t the type to stand tall in defeat or mistake. When the things you did wrong were brought to you, you quivered and coward away because it made you feel more than you preferred. Faulty. It made you want to sequester—the total opposite of Ellie.

She could never forget how you hid away after the fight on her seventeenth birthday. You didn’t go to school for a week. Ellie offered to bring you schoolwork, like the waving of a white flag, but you declined—or, rather, your parents declined. One of your academic friends made visits to the farm every day to give you the missing work. For a moment, after not hearing from you, Ellie thought you moved abroad or something. You were the closest thing to a true hermit.

That worried her because this is the last thing you’d ever want to admit, and it was Ellie’s fault. She may not have felt a lick of regret for loving on you like she used to, but she felt bad for putting you in a situation you couldn’t seamlessly get out of. It was a nightmare to see you flail, but the only way out is through. Ellie learned that a long time ago. Maybe, it was your turn to reassess that motto.

The only way out is through.

So, Ellie made her way to the bedroom they shared, knocking before she entered.

Cat had her back propped up against the wooden headboard; a pair of headphones covering her pierced ears as she typed on her own computer. Her bags were packed and ready in the corner of the room—that’s what she spent her time doing this morning… Packing her bags. When she wasn’t issuing theatrical threats. That’s already one concern out the window. She was ready to ship out. When she noticed Ellie, her soft features fell.

“You’re already packed…” She acknowledged, rocking on her bare feet. Cat removed her headphones with a sigh. “Let me take you to the train station—”

“Before you tell your family that you boldly cheated on your girlfriend? I don’t think so.” She dismissed, tilting her head to the side. “If this is your way of getting out of—”

Ellie groaned, slapping her hands against her thighs. “I’m not trying to get out of anything, Cat. I just don’t want you paying a fucking grand to get back into the city.”

“What do you care?” Cat challenged, setting her laptop aside. “Hm? You told me that I had nothing to worry about. That’s what you said… Turns out that was a stupid fucking lie.” She ground out, pressing her lips into a disappointed line. A cruel laugh came from her, while she shook her head in disbelief. “And now, you’re saying you care about how much I’m spending to get back home? Are you fucking with me?”

“I’m not. It’s the least I could do—”

“No… The least you could’ve done was not fuck y/n—that’s the least you could’ve done.” The scorned woman argued, meeting her eyes with intensity. “I’m not going anywhere until I see the looks on Mr. and Mrs. Miller’s faces when they find out what the two of you did— I have a feeling it’ll be memorable.”

The freckled artist found her attitude to be draining, even if it was sensical for her side of things. Her fingers rubbed between her eyebrows. A raspy sigh fleeing from her throat. “Look, I get you’re upset, Cat. But dontcha’ think you’re doing, I don’t know, too much?”

“You think this is too much?”

“Uh, yeah, I do. I said I’d tell ‘em what happened— that should be enough for you.”

Scoffing, she threw her legs over the mattress. “You expect me to believe the woman who cheated on me? How didn’t I know you were this idiotic before?” Cat scoffed, dryly.

She deepened her eyebrows at the insult, gritting her teeth. “You know, what? I’ve been really struggling to keep my mouth shut… But, clearly, there’s no point.” Ellie huffed, blinking her eyes. Perhaps, it was time for her to know the truth on why Ellie wanted to go home for a while. Her stiff words got Cat’s attention, causing her to narrow her dark eyes. “That whole thing about me having a hard time in the city with my art— yeah, that was because of you, not because of fucking Brooklyn.” The woman admitted, releasing the tension in her shoulders. “Truth is, your endless support did nothing but drag out my lack of inspiration—you made it worse! What I needed was to get out of that goddamn apartment, not get out of the city.” She continued, pacing around the room. “From the moment I saw her… Inspiration fucking flooded my psyche— all I could see was her. Her face. Her voice. Her body. She did more for me in second than you ever did for me in the year we’ve been together.”

She ran a hand through her hair, scoffing. A boyish smirk spreading onto her plush lips. “Who’s the fuckin’ idiot now?” Ellie muttered, flickering her earthy eyes toward her shocked expression.

A beat plotted in the environment, feasting on the spreading tension in the room.

That was mean; she matched her cruelty and then some. Ellie shouldn’t have, but she was only human. A human who just made her girlfriend—sorry, ex-girlfriend—cry. Her thin eyebrows pushed into a harsh furrow, tears streaming shown her flushed, hot cheeks. Her fingers danced in front of lips, trying to keep her sorrowful whines from being heard. It wasn’t working. Cat cried like a hurt dog, stuffing her face in her hands at Ellie’s restriction of consolation.

With crossed arms, Ellie looked down at from across the room. Family was one of the most important things to her. Despite her youthful, abrasive attitude, Joel decided to contractually tie himself to her—her adoption. But, even before then, she’s been a divine part of the Miller family. They meant a whole lot to her, you, more so. The fact that she was so willing to draw a wedge between the lot of you… Frankly, it disgusted her. It was repulsive.

“You have every right to be upset. I can’t take that from you.” She let up, lifting her eyebrows. “If anything… What I do regret is pulling you along this far out of convenience. To be honest—”

“Haven’t you been honest enough? Fuck, Ellie.” Cat blurted, peeking over her shoulder.

Her feelings might have been hurt; a simmering flame awaiting the impulsive pressure of Ellie’s old converse. The auburn-haired woman sighed, taking a seat on the bed. Away from Cat, not only to convey her sincerity in her processing words, but to respect Cat’s wired emotions. “I’ve kept enough from you, kitty Cat. My honesty is my apology…” Ellie casted her down-to-earth irises to the side of Cat’s face. When she turned to meet Ellie’s eyes, her smudged eyeliner and mascara became a spectacle. “And my good-bye…”

Cat scoffed in pure offense. “You do not get to break-up with me when you’re the one who fucked up.”

“Well, if you wanna be the one to call it… Then, feel free.”

“No!” She grit her teeth, more tears dripping from the corners of her eyes. “I don’t want to break up with you…” Her lips quivered.

Ellie chortled, leaning her palm into the mattress. “Uhm, one of us is gonna have to do the breaking, Cat.”

They apparently have walked themselves into an impasse. To make a decision, or to not make a decision—that was the question. The response, the answer, was far simpler than Cat was making it, though.

Sighing, the freckled artist looked to the side. Ellie could use this to her advantage—getting her on that train back to the city. “You don’t have to right now…” She began to offer. “How about you mull it over on the way to the train station? I still don’t mind driving you there.” Her fingers fiddled with themselves, hoping she’d finally accept her invitation to leave.

She looked at her frowning, blinking away her tears. “Fine…” Cat stood to her feet, wiping her makeup-stained cheeks with the backs of her hand. “Why don’t you be a doll and bring my bags to the truck. It’s the least you could do.” Before Ellie could respond, she walked into bathroom and locked herself behind the door.

Releasing a long breath of relief, Ellie got up from the bed. As silently as possible, she pumped her fists into the air. Cat was leaving with only a little bit of resistance. That whole dramatic scene she was hoping for wasn’t happening—thank God!

Ellie stuffed her feet into her sneakers, before grabbing her rolling luggage and bag, hoisting the large purse over her shoulder. She left the bedroom, eyeing Joel on her way out. He was covered in flour and sugar, like the chef that he aspired to be. She gave him a thumbs up on the way out the door, snickering to herself.

Joel clapped his hands, forgetting about the flour stuck to his hands. It puffed into the air and down his throat, causing him to obnoxiously cough—away from the food developing in front of him. “Goddamn,”

Ellie peeked her head inside, pushing the luggage to the side on the small wooden porch. “Please, survive until I get back. Wouldn’t want another tragedy on Thanksgiving.”

“Oh, shut it, Ellie.”

She snickered again; her mood instantly heightened. However, as she maneuvered off the porch, her eyes caught sight of you and your mother. Maria’s arms were around you, guiding you toward the house. You didn’t have a jacket on and sported a pair of slippers—you weren’t dressed for the brisk afternoon air, dragging your feet against the ground. Ellie had stopped in her tracks. Shoes crunching on bumpy gravel. She couldn’t help but wonder what led you out the house. Was it her? Did she unnerve you so bad that you ran away from the warmth of the house?

Also, did you mean what you said when you used fickle as a description of your relationship with Ellie? Boy, did she have so many questions. This ball was filled with kinetic energy, rolling as it should have. She was just going to have to keep the momentum of its roll. For how long? The inspired artist didn’t know—but what she did know, was that she had a woman to make hers again.

This time, in a sustainable way, instead of a chaotic one.

taglist: @autisticintr0vert , @liasxeatt , @hopingforgoodblogs , @lia-winther , @macaroni676 , @tobiotruther , @anewkindofloove , @fatbootymuncher , @maiaska , @culuvr , @0phantom0 , @onlinelesbo , @bbnbhm , @lovelaymedown , @lamorenita , @scatapple , @elliewilliamsblunt , @goddessofchaosss , @mikellie , @emmanetalias , @sevyscoven , @lluvbk

[swampyswan]

I’m surprised we don’t talk about the Polle statue more.

Anya sleeps next to the Polle statue post-crash because it’s sound activated, therefore alerting her if Jimmy tries to approach her in the night. This is already horrific because it leans into the idea that , even AFTER crashing the ship, Jimmy has not learned that how he treated Anya had consequences and continued to abuse her after the fact, only with no Curly to act as even a theoretical buffer. Curly didn’t do much, but at the very least, the idea of him finding out was enough for Jimmy to keep his abuse of her under wraps. Now he has no one to stop him from doing so as long as it happens while Daisuke and Swansea are asleep.

The Polle statue becomes a symbol of Anya’s safety; her last safeguard against Jimmy, because she knows he cares about his reputation and won’t dare approach her if it’ll attract the attention of the other two, or at the very least alert her in case he tries anything and she can ward him off.

And then, halfway through, we find it broken. Smashed to pieces.

It’s easy to point to Jimmy as the culprit. As his control over the situation starts to dwindle and bite him in the ass, so does his control over Anya. The reason he imagines Polle as a monster in his mind is because he acts as a barrier between him and his favorite punching bag. Destroying it is a sign to Anya that she can’t escape him.

But… maybe it was Swansea, in a drunken rage, who destroyed it, out of annoyance of its constant jabbering about a job he hates, out of desperation, out of the growing stress of starvation and subsisting on only Mouthwash that made him lash out. Maybe he didn’t even realize just how badly he screwed over Anya in the moment, maybe only regretting it when he sees her dead.

It could have been Daisuke. Maybe it was an accident; maybe he bumped into it one day and it shattered. Maybe he couldn’t have known what he did.

Or maybe it was Anya herself. Maybe she’d came to the realization that the Polle statue couldn’t protect her forever, that if Jimmy ever eventually decided the risk of exposure was worth the attack on her, that the statue could not actually stop him. Maybe it was slowly losing battery power and, one fateful night, might no longer work. Maybe it was the beginning of the end for her; her slow realization that there was ever only one way this was going to end.

[janus-cadet]

This card is brighter than the one I usually do- might even be the most colorful of the whole deck, so far! Which- fitting. Today, let's welcome Charlie Morningstar and Vaggie, double figures for the Ten of Cups!

(Now usually, the card also have one or two more people on it; I thought about adding Pentious, but our snake should have his card soon enough. Therefore, it's just the girls.)

Explanations under the cut, as well as a poll for the next card to draw, and the rest of the Hazbin tarot cards!

Upright, the Ten of Cups embodies happiness, joy, and emotional contentment. You have created an abundance of love and happiness in your life, and you now share this love with others, expanding your heart even more. This fits Charlie and what she created with her hotel, supported by Vaggie- together, they are the start of it all. You are now surronded by your loved ones (it's a fucking happy day in hell!), with whom you share a powerful and deep connection. You support one another, and you help other to reach their highest potential- on the path to redemption! Most of all, you do it because seeing others happy is the greatest joy you could have. It's the "happy family" card by excellence, as well as a positive card for romantic relationships- you're in a blissful one, if that's what you're looking for, to the point you may believe that you ar soulmates destined to be with one another (I do love them, mh, mh). When the card appears in your reading, it's time for you to take a step back, and appreciate everything you accomplished. You went through hard time, but look at that! You can do this, now we know it, and you actually did. Follow your heart, says the card, and follow your inner sens of Good.

Reversed, the card brings more subtility. You can see the Upright reading as mostly Charlie's idealistic view on the hotel and on redemption; but with the reversed Ten of Cups come the struggles. You may feel disconnected and disengaged from your loved ones, like your estranged father and your missing mother. You try to connect, but each times, something goes wrong, and the distance between you grows. Why does he forgets everything you say? Can't he pay attention? Why is he not calling more often? Or maybe you're afraid to trust, and you're keeping some secrets close to your chest. You don't open up enough, and you create, without meaning to, a distance with others, with her. You're too rash and too impulsive, but you mean well- surely, they can see that? It may have an impact on your relationship; you need to realise that nothing is perfect, and every relationship has its ups and downs. The Ten of Cups invite you to seek out a common ground with your loved ones, and rebuild the relationship from there. Talk to your father about why, exactly, he's so reluctant to help; talk to your partner about who you are, and where you came from. Open the lines of communication and be ready to hold space for one another. Be compassionate, understanding, and respectful. The card can also mean that you're starting to doubt yourself, and what you are doing. Is it really worth it? Are you up to the task? Are you letting other people down? You have to rethink those questions. Think about what makes you happy, what you believe in, and bring back your focus to that.

And that's it for today! I'm planning to do at least three more Hazbin cards- if the fixation does not die by then. Not that it shows any sign of slowing down, oh boy- they are all so fun to draw, too!

Anyway.

And with that, Hazbin Hotel verse is the most represented fandom in my whole deck of cards, right before Doctor Who. Ah!

If you have read this far- well done. So proud of you. You win a peach cider, if you're even able to drink this abomination. And paf, the rest of the cards!

[silverskye13]

how did you get the confidence to write fanfiction? i always worry that i won't portray the characters properly so any ideas or wants to write fanfics that i have go away or i talk myself out of it :(

Well! First and foremost: Most people don't start writing,,,, anything with confidence. Let alone fanfic, where you know other people are going to be looking at it, with their own ideas of how the characters are supposed to act and feel influencing what they're coming to the story with. My first fanfic I was very insecure, which I feel like was evident, reading through the author's notes now. Apologies whenever something that required a lot of suspension of disbelief happened, a poll so readers could decide the ending so I wouldn't disappoint anybody, only to end in me writing and posting three different endings. Long justifications for why I chose certain things in the author's notes. The fic nowadays reads to me like a very rough apology.

"Hi I'm sorry I tried. Be kind I'm very scared."

But the thing about writing that fic was, it was the writerly equivalent of jumping into the deep end of the pool for the first time. After I bobbed back to the surface and realized a shark hadn't like, taken my legs off while I was down there, jumping in again got easier. And kept getting easier. And now I just write and post things.

There's kind of two schools of thought that I've seen people subscribe to, when it comes to taking the first leap. The one that's really popular around here on Tumblr is: Do it scared. It is simple and straightforward. You are scared. You will be scared. You probably never won't be scared. So do it scared. Write your thing, close your eyes and hit send [either to post it or to share it with one or two friends, or even just hitting the "save" button and not deleting it]. Get scared, do it, close your eyes, finish. When you open your eyes again and nothing terrible has happened, you can breathe a sigh of relief and do it scared again. It's a little nerve-wracking at first, but the idea is giving your mind the association of jumping and not falling. I did it and I didn't fail, therefore it is safe to do it again.

The other school of thought [the one I specifically subscribe to] is: Do it once. What you think or feel about it doesn't matter. What matters is you did it once. Maybe it will be hell, or it'll suck terribly. Maybe you're really excited! And it turns out great! Maybe its a wild ride of ups and downs, and by the end you need a few months to catch your breath and decide if it was worth it. Regardless: you did it once. Now you know, if you want to, you can do it again. Now you can decide if its worth doing again. For me, the euphoria of finishing a project always far outweighs the trouble getting there, so the step forward of "Do it once" is powerful for me. And that can be broken down too. "Write one chapter." "Draw one drawing." "Clean one room in the house." There is no pressure to continue if its really that terrible, but you at least get to decide if one was worth it [and a solid 9 times out of 10, one was worth it enough to do it more.]

Now, all that said, if what you're worried about is writing the characters right and nothing else -- don't worry too much. Most people care less about how true to life the characters are, and care a lot more about consistency in the story. An example from RnS: In canon, Helsknight is a cartoonish villain with one motivation, and that motivation is taking over hermitcraft Doofenschmirtz style. To date, no one has come into my inbox demanding I change him, because he's so OOC he's basically an OC at this point. What people have come into my inbox about though, is "Hey, you established X in this chapter, but he said Y in this chapter. Was there a reason for that?" which is them saying, "Why didn't you keep your character consistent?" If you tell your audience what the expectations are for the story and you stick with them, they will stop caring about OOC moments and characterizations, and will trust you're going somewhere with your writing. Suspension of disbelief, your powerful friend! They put the world on their shoulders and carry and everybody watches and claps.

If you're also worried about consistency, then start out with one shots! There's a lot less room for error, no large, sweeping character arcs to keep track of. And stringing a bunch of one-shots together can give you practice with character consistency and progression without committing to something massive and overarching. If you're truly worried about making the characters exactly like Canon [or the Canon in your head], I recommend making little lists of character traits, or important things you want to keep in mind. At that point you're scared of your own consistency, and you just need a framework to keep yourself consistent enough for yourself, if that makes sense?

Hopefully! This helps! Sorry I'm a little scattered today :'D

[vampireimiko]

(The way I smiled when I saw your requests open RAHHH-)

Can I request the Lin Kuei trio with Liu Kang with an assassin! Reader? The thing is that reader is a drunkard and is pretty unserious but when it comes to her job, she does a whole 180?

Thanks!!!

Lin Kuei + Liu Kang, with an Unserious Assassin! Reader

warnings, alcohol mentions (obv)

note, trying to hurry up and get these requests out so i can finally start brainstorming on this series when my poll ends 😭‼️

Bi-Han

જ⁀➴ When Bi-han got paired up with you for a mission, he was so annoyed. In his eyes, you didn't take your job serious enough. Always coming around drunk, cracking jokes here and there, and just overall not being formidable enough.

જ⁀➴ It got to a point where he suspected you were bribing you targets to disappear instead of killing them.

જ⁀➴ However, Bi-Han's perspective shifted drastically after witnessing you in action on a real mission. Your inebriated state didn't hinder your skills; in fact, it seemed to enhance your focus and accuracy.

Kuai Liang

જ⁀➴ Kuai Liang observed your behavior and often wondered about your drinking habits, just like his brother.

જ⁀➴ He hadn't had the chance to witness you on a mission but was perplexed by the apparent disparity between your off-duty persona and your efficiency as an assassin.

જ⁀➴ Unfortunately for him, he wouldn't be able to witness you on a mission for a while due to him having a slight sprain. He instead asked to spar with you, and oh boy was he surprised.

Tomas

જ⁀➴ He was actually a little concerned that you were able to go on missions period with the way you drunk.

જ⁀➴ He attempted to discuss the matter with you, raising concerns about your well-being and the effectiveness of your work under the influence. Instead you brushed him off, assuring him that you could handle it. You even offered he should come on one of the bigger missions you had to take on.

જ⁀➴ Though, despite all the worries he had, he couldn't deny any of your success. That alone enticed him enough into saying yes to your offer.

Liu Kang

જ⁀➴ He had the opportunity to change the way you were when he constructed the new timeline. However, he decided to keep your unique personality.

જ⁀➴ He realized that there was more to your drunken demeanor than met the eye. Your unique way of operating had its own kind of effectiveness, and he respected that.

જ⁀➴ Sure, maybe it was a bit hard to deal with you when you were drunk, but to him it's all worth it when he gets to see you do a complete 180 when in kombat.

additional note ! nghhh the fnaf movie was so good

𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

[befuddled-calico-whump]

The Revenge Stream: Part One

contains: Vic Shepard, red room setting, whumper turned whumpee, violence, beating, noncon nudity/forced stripping, adult language, third person POV

next

•

Normally it's common sense to avoid random links that pop up in your inbox.

Everything about it screams virus, from the restricted sender, to the jumbled string of letters and symbols that make up the link itself, to the subject line, a simple “gift for you”. Normally, you'd delete it immediately. Maybe report it as spam. But something holds you back. A single line in the message body.

Anyone for vengeance?

You're intrigued. It's not the typical line a scammer might use. After a few minutes spent wrestling with your own common sense, you decide to do the probably stupid thing and click on the hyperlink. The pull of your curiosity is just too strong to be ignored.

The link leads to a simple website with a layout that's almost laughably bad. Any sense of design is nonexistent, and the sole feature of the page appears to be some sort of livestream. Its screen is dark, but the timestamp in the corner is moving. Whatever camera it's attached to, it's rolling.

What is this? You wait a minute, watching the clock tick upwards, but nothing changes. Silence and a dark screen. Definitely not worth the risk of a virus.

Just as you're about to call it quits and close the tab, the screen floods with light.

A gloved hand fills the frame, holding what looks like a lense cap, silhouetted against a background of barren concrete. As the hand moves away, the room comes into focus, revealing a figure at its center.

It appears to be a man, barefoot and tied to a chair. He's slumped forward, graying hair obscuring his face.

You know you should feel dread. Panic, even. But instead, your interest only grows, and you find yourself holding your breath as the camera steadies. There's a small pop, and the audio of the feed crackles to life.

“This thing on?” a voice says, its owner stepping into frame. They're dressed in light grey sweatpants with a matching hoodie, a white mask obscuring their face.  “We've got oh… fifty, fifty-five guests by my count. Seems like a good place to start.” They move to the man in the chair, taking a fistful of his hair and yanking his head back, angling his face towards the camera. He's gagged with a twisted strand of cord, and his face is a bit cut up, but he seems alert. And pissed.

“Ladies and gentlemen, meet Victor Shepard. If you're watching this, it's because he's fucked up your life in some way. Maybe he killed a loved one. Maybe he destroyed your company, or provided blackmail material that ruined your reputation. I dunno. Jack of all trades, this one.” They loosen their grip, and Shepard's head drops. 

“Point is, I'm here to make him pay. For you.” You can almost hear them grin behind the mask.

Your hands clench, eyes glued to the monitor screen. Fuck. This is a red room stream, isn't it? And a personal one at that. While this reveal should have you reaching for your phone and dialing 9-1-1, you almost feel… excited. You want to see more. Even if the link reaching your inbox was a fluke, there's no way you're backing out.

“Well,” the masked figure continues. “Let's get this party started, huh? What's up first?”

In the corner of the screen, a poll appears.

Strip him, reads the first option.

Rough him up, the second one says. A timer is kicking down beneath the buttons. Fifty-nine seconds.

Should you click one? Does it make you complacent if you do? You’d almost feel better if you didn't, like you're just an innocent bystander, watching something you have no real power to stop. And that makes it okay, right?

Before you can finish justifying it to yourself, the poll ends. ‘Strip him’ is the victor, fifty votes to eighteen.

The masked figure moves out of frame again, and you hear them click their tongue. “Hope you're not shy, big guy.”

When they move back into view of the camera, they're holding a knife.

“Gonna have to cut some of the ropes, but I'm not too worried about it.” They grab the camera, rotating it to face the rest of the room, and for the first time you see its other occupants, two figures clad in the same grey as the speaker. They're also masked, and each of them holds an assault rifle at the ready.

“Michael and Uriel over here got me covered if he tries anything. Really hope he doesn't though. I do wanna give you a show.”

As they spin the camera back around, you catch a split second glimpse of the speaker's working area. A slim laptop surrounded by what looks like a bunch of weapons and power tools. If those are all for Shepard, you don't doubt they will indeed be putting on a show.

They re-steady the camera and step back onscreen, closing in on the man in the chair. Their knife slides through the ropes around his chest with ease, and they fall to the ground in a heap. The figure shifts so they're not blocking Shepard from the camera's view, then begins a slice down the middle of his shirt.

They cut away the cloth—chest, shoulders, arms—before moving to his pants, but Shepard doesn't struggle. If anything, his body language seems calm. Placid, even, though when you catch a glimpse of his eyes you can see a sharp anger. You imagine the only thing keeping him in place right now is the gunmen on the other side of the room.

The pile of discarded scraps beside the chair grows, and soon the captive is stark naked. Under his clothes, his body is all lean muscle and old scars, the dark silhouette of some kind of bird tattooed on his chest. You don't doubt what the speaker—the host—said before. This guy seems pretty capable of ruining lives.

The host steps back, admiring their work. “There we go. A canvas at the ready. Shall we move on? What tool should I grab?”

In the corner of your screen, another poll appears.

Electric sander.

Switch.

Seeing an electric sander listed as a potential torture tool makes your stomach twist, but you can't tell if it's disgust or excitement that’s behind the feeling. Again, you only watch as the timer ticks down.

Three…

Two…

One…

To your relief, (or is it disappointment?) the switch comes out ahead.

Behind the mask, the host’s excitement seems to grow.

“Ohoho, we have a winner,” they say, and you hear a light clattering offscreen. When they step back in front of the camera, they're holding the chosen tool; a thick, stiff strip of leather, metal studding one end. They give it a test swish through the air. The sound gets no reaction from Shepard.

“How many do you think he's good for? The metal bits are gonna leave a mark.” The host moves behind the camera, and from their comments, you can guess they're reading through viewer feedback.

“Ten? I'd call that light. Oh, twenty five is more like it— a hundred?” They whistle. “Okay, that might be a bit high. The night is young.”

You scan your monitor screen. In the top corner, there's a little message icon, which you assume is how everyone else is communicating with the host. You briefly consider dropping a request of your own, but then they speak up.

“Let's go with fifty. Happy medium, eh?”

Your eyes dart back down, and you watch as they stroll towards Shepard, smacking the switch lightly against their gloved palm as they move.

“Brace for impact,” they say cheerfully, before cracking the implement across Shepard's chest. His head snaps backwards, a pained noise escaping him.

One. A giddiness is growing in your chest, eager to count down until the man's first scream. The host seems just as energized as you, attacking Shepard’s torso like they're beating dirt out of a rug.

Several seconds pass before they come to a stop, winded. Their arm drops, and they sidestep, letting the camera take in Shepard. His torso is covered in welts, bleeding in some places where the studs broke skin. Aside from a few pained hisses and grunts, he's been silent.

“Fuck,” the host says. “I lost count. What was that? Was that fifty? Forty five?”

They shake their arms, as if to loosen their shoulders.

“We'll call it forty.”

Snap!

The switch comes down, this time cracking across Shepard's face. You wince at the impact. That's gotta hurt. The host continues the attack. Their strokes seem slower now, not as sharp, but they're aiming high, striking him across the nose, cheek, collarbone. Forty eight actually drags a yelp out of the man as metal collides with a welt on his cheekbone, and your heart leaps at the sound.

Forty nine swipes the corner of his mouth, drawing blood, and then…

“Cincuenta,” says the host, letting the switch drop. “Not impressed, hm Vicky? We can change that.” They stroll to their workstation, and you hear the clatter of the switch’s metal tip hitting the table.

A moment later, a third poll appears on the screen.

Whip him, says the first button.

Cut off his tattoo, says the second. 

Holy fuck. That seems a bit extreme, but… fun? Maybe? The guy's a piece of shit, right? He probably deserves much worse. Right?

“Cast your votes,” the host’s voice rings out, and you watch as the poll goes live, the clock suddenly ticking backwards.

“What do you think will make him scream?”

•

[savemeafruitjuice]

Lee raph spot feet maybe Mikey uses his chains against him

Alright, I'm using this prompt for the poll, so let's do this! I don't think this has any spoilers, so we're all good!

(A/N: I FINISHED IT. I sincerely apologize for the wait, but I hope you enjoy! 😌)

lee! Raph

ler! Mikey

TW!: Some swearing!

The sound of scuffling brothers bounced off the walls of the lair, yelps and war-cries reaching every corner of the sewers as training began. The turtles had been a bit agitated all day, leaving a very annoyed Splinter to send them all to the dojo to blow off some steam.

Per usual, a duo was sent to fight while the others watched until it was another pair's turn, Donnie and Leo going first, the leader of the team winning within a couple minutes, but now it was Raph and Mikey's turn. A cocky smile overtook each turtle's features as the smack-talk began.

"You sure you don't wanna surrender before I knock you out? You'd be saved a couple bruises if you do, you know." the two circled one another, tension creeping into the room. "Hm. I think you underestimate me, Raph. Because, if I remember correctly, I beat you the last time we trained. Yohou didn't see me coming!" cheeky giggles flooded from the freckled turtle's mouth.

Raphael was getting fed up. Suddenly, he lunged at the younger and managed to land a hit to his shoulder with the handle of his sai. Mikey grunted, swinging his nunchucks out, whining as his brother dodged. The red-themed turtle swung his leg at the other's head, following through with another one aimed at the side of his shell.

Donnie and Leo cheered for their siblings, giving each one equal praise when a hit handed. Master Splinter took note of each move, giving guidance when it was needed. "Michelangelo, keep your leg straight. Raphael, do not focus entirely on offense."

"Mikey's lasting longer than usual, maybe he's been training more?" "Not likely. He complains when we go on an easy patrol around the city. He is holding out longer than I expected though, even Sensei seems surprised." Leo whispered back, head whipping from side to side as his little siblings ran across the dojo.

Raphael lowered himself to the ground and spun around, twisting his leg so that he bent his little brother's knee, almost making him lose balance. Mikey landed a few hits with his nunchucks to the sai-user's calf, making him wince before jumping back up.

The two seemed evenly matched for once, but as time passed Mikey started to lose focus. He took a few more kicks before deciding he needed a plan to win. 'Okay, this isn't getting me anywhere. Maybe if I think like Donnie I'll get the upper-hand? Wait, I want to win. Although..' A thought popped into the youngest's head. He wasn't sure if Master Splinter would approve, but it was worth bragging rights, right?

He waited for Raph to aim a kick high up again, gaining distance with a few swings of his nunchucks in the meantime. Soon enough, the older thrusted his leg up, and that's when Mikey struck.

He ducked and backed up slightly, swinging the chain of his nunchuck around the fiery-tempered turtle's ankle, smirking as a shocked noise pushed its way out of his throat. He pulled up, forcing Raph to awkwardly hop forward as to not fall. "Mikey! You can't do that, it's cheating!"

"Well, it's not my fault I found a vantage point!" still, the younger glanced at Master Splinter to make sure what he was doing wasn't actually against one of the super boring, excessively drawn out rules that he didn't have the attention span to listen to. His father didn't say anything, merely nodding in confirmation that he could continue. Mikey smiled, pulling back even more and snickering a bit when his brother struggled to not tumble to the floor.

After a few more moments, the orange-themed turtle raised his free hand, making sure Raphael could see it before wiggling his three fingers at him. He slowly inched towards his foot, and the other turtle's face flushed as he realized what was about to happen. Desperately trying to pull back, the sai-user soon came to the conclusion that he wasn't going to be able to escape. With that, he made a mental note to absolutely kick this guy's shell into oblivion later. "Mikey! I swear. I am so gonna- KGH!"

The inevitable eventually came, Mikey's wiggling fingers touching down on his brother's foot as a strangled shriek filled the room. The two seated mutants leaned to the side to see what was going on, smirking when they saw the tactic the youngest had come up with.

Raphael swiftly covered his mouth to prevent any more embarrassing noises from escaping. His entire leg jolted and kicked as Mikey kept scribbling away at his foot, making it increasingly more difficult to keep standing upright. His sais dropped to the floor, clattering on the mat. "MIHIkey! Stoho- Ihi'm goHONNA KIHILL YOHou!"

Eventually, the dam burst, a wide smile forcing its way upon the older's face, his shell meeting the ground soon after. Mikey, who at this point was having the time of his life tickling his brother, followed him to the ground and sat on his calf, using his knees to hold the sides of his nunchucks down, effectively pinning Raph's foot down in the process as he scritched along the flat surface.

The elder sibling screeched and flailed in an attempt to launch his brother off of him, but the tickling was sapping his strength away. His free leg was quick to hit into Mikey, trying desperately to stop the fluttering sensation building up.

"Ohhh Raph~! Looks like I'm winning again!" the orange-themed turtle smugly taunted, unfazed by the flailing limbs coming at him. "Maybe you need to practice some mo-"

The youngest was interrupted by a loud cackle, followed by the quiet giggles of his other brothers who were more than entertained at this point, watching their edgy brother being taken down. "ShuHUt yohohour MOHOHOUTH! DAHAMNIHIHIT! STAHAHAHAP!"

Raph threw his head back and desperately tried to squirm away, arching back into the matted floor as fingers scratched at the base of his toes. Mikey, on the other hand, was smiling like a dork, 100% enjoying the usually grouchy turtle laughing his head off.

"What's the magic word?~" Mikey was full of himself, sticking his tongue out in response to a rather rude hand gesture, retaliating with a sharp squeeze to the knee. Raph couldn't handle much more at this point, and though it was beyond embarrassing to admit defeat to the youngest of the family, let alone be found in this situation in the first place, he couldn't breathe very well, and he was too weak to really fight Mikey off anymore.

"MIHIKehehey! I cahaha- I gihive uhup!" the turtle's eye-ridges arched up in surprise. "Hmm? What was that Raphie? I can't quite hear you over your girlie screams!" the elder glared at his obnoxious brother through his laughter, but despite how much he wanted to punch him in the face, he still needed to tap out. Jeez, he was never gonna live this down.

"Ihihi sahaid stoHOHOP! PLEHEHEASE! AHAHA!" the nunchuck-user had began quickly scribbling over the ball of his foot for a few more seconds, before stopping his hands and jumping off his brother to avoid any attacks. As soon as his leg was free, Raph kicked the nunchuck off of him, sending it flying against the wall, and promptly curled up, wrapping his arms around his knees and caught his breath.

"Michelangelo, despite using.. unorthodox methods, is the winner." Master Splinter gave a look to Mikey, who only smiled mischievously. "A turtle's gotta do what a turtle's gotta do!" he shrugged, doing a little victory dance, failing to notice that Raphael had recovered, and was now creeping up behind him, a vengeful glint in his eye.

"I won, I wo- EEK! WAHAIT! RAHAPH I'M SAHARRY-!"

"Oh, but you don't know how sorry you'll be.."

[momo-crome]

( disclaimer : i made this theory with the intention of making it into a YouTube video so please excuse if that hasn't translated properly as a post on its own. also this contains spoilers for dialtown + the roger dlc, it makes more sense with the context of it anyway. that along with i use all pronouns for Gingi in this post (he/she/they/it) and uh Tw because i do bring up a few sensitive things like suicide and death but also some other things I'm forgetting )

and one last thing is that there are some pieces of information i didn't know so have been left out in this post but i may or may not make a follow up on this if i find enough to talk about

with that in mind : under the cut is my phonegingi and object head theory !! ♡

A while ago I made a poll on my tumblr asking what one of these theories you’d like for me to make a video upon and ‘figuring out what Phonegingi is ‘n’ their anatomy (or just phony anatomy)’ managed to win. It's a blessing in disguise if I'm being honest as the context of what I'm going to explain and set up in this video greatly helps with my Enc0unter and god theory. 

So without any further stalling : I think it's best to start with analysing the cryptid.

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶︶⠀୨♡୧⠀︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶︶

Analysing Phonegingi :

So it doesn't take a genius to see that Phonegingi isn't like anything we've seen before. Not only does their species not really have an in-game name nor explanation, we also don't see anything else like it running around Dialtown. While there is a slim chance that maybe others like her do exist but we’ve never seen them and / or live in other places of the world, I really do doubt it from other characters' reaction to it alone. Not to even mention that Gingi doesn't have any confirmed origins along with the eggs that it lays and doesn't look anything like him. Obviously the whole ‘egg’ thing is a theory within itself but that's for another day.

Now if we’re going to get to figuring out what this thing is, we should analyse its features. We can see some human-like attributes but the list is rather limited when you take a closer look at him. So to make things a tad bit easier I've analysed some of the physical attributes from its sprites and art shown in game, along with a few not so physical things that are worth pointing out.

As shown I've decided to point out its green skin, six nipples, somewhat human body and tail. Some non visible attributes being how she can lay eggs, consume gravel and roadkill just fine, glans that burst when stressed(i forgot to add these two when making this) and teeth. two more noteworthy things being the fact he can speak proper English on top of hallucinations, but these are somewhat irrelevant as of now.

And for the sake of argument, I won't be taking the typewriter and phone heads into consideration as it's been proven by Gingi on multiple occasions that it had made it themselves and along with how it can change just complicates things. That's the same reason why I also won't be taking the scars into consideration as he was most likely not born with them (also it does change on occasion. No shade dogman) But don't worry as we shall return to it once it’s fully figured out what this thing is made up of.

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Analysing Phonegingi : The green skin

Now I feel as if we should start off with one of the most important things with Phonegingi, and one of the most prominent ones at that. That being the bright green hue of its skin, perhaps we could even describe it as being fluorescent. Obviously the claim on its own sounds quite outlandish until we take a look at what could have possibly caused this. 

Now there are many things that cause green skin in nature such as hyperbilirubinemia and layered chromatophores within the skin but one main detail i feel like is worth mentioning is that while Phonegingi does have certain reptilian like moments, simplifying judging by looks alone it is worthy to note that it appears to be a mammal of some sorts. Or a creature who's mostly covered in skin. This may seem somewhat irrelevant unless you remember that there aren't any naturally occurring mammals within nature with green skin. So maybe it isn't natural. And maybe this could be from lead.

While from the surface this seems rather outlandish, it is notable to say that there have been many instances where people had gotten their skin punctured by such things made from lead, leading to a long lasting green mark upon their skin. And the reason I bring this all up is in one of the endings for the Roger DLC we hear from Mingus herself that she's been putting lead into Dialtown’s lake. Presumably being the one within the forest. The same first that Phonegingi is from. Now I am no scientist but perhaps the led from the lake somehow found itself into its system though one of the main scars upon her body caused the green pigmentation. That or perhaps even radiation.

Side note here, my original theory was that this was entirely radiation until I looked into it a tad more. But we still have much to discuss with radiation as a topic.

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Analysing Phonegingi : six nipples / eggs

I was honestly pretty stumped when it came to this point, obviously this is one of the main features of Gingi and on paper wouldn’t seem all too bad but when we consider the whole egg laying thing this really throws a wrench into everything until we consider the possibility that perhaps that Phonegingi is more than one animal biologically.

Now obviously I'm not going to sit here and act like I'm all too sure about what exactly these animals are just yet but I do have a contender. That being the platypus. Or that's what i would say because google lied to me about them having nipples. Apparently they only have mammary gland ducts to feed their young but perhaps Gingi’s genes somehow got broken so this being had to insert itself into his system, it’s an interesting look upon this but perhaps it's caused by something else. That I shall explain in a different post if enough people care for me to look into it. Either way : at least we now have a current solution for the eggs too

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Analysing Phonegingi : tail / eating gravel and roadkill / teeth

So now that we've managed to identify one of the beings that makes up Phonegingi, that being the platypus, we still have a few things that are left still in the air. But it's very simply solved when we consider that the other animal that Gingi is made up of is perhaps an alligator.

One of the main attributes of this is probably its teeth, such teeth that Gingi has been canonically confirmed to have from under his face. Such as within text and achievement art. Also another ability of the alligator is the fact that it has been proved to be able to process such things like rock and fresh dead animals, two things that Gingi has also been confirmed to eat without much struggle.

And one final thing to add on, we can also note Gingi’s tail from being from an alligator if it wasn't for how it goes from hairless to having hair on the tip along with it sometimes not being shown at all. That mainly being in model edits of the character so perhaps it's not worth noting.

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Analysing Phonegingi : glans that burst when stressed

This one is quite the new development to say the least, I'm going to be honest when I say that I almost completely missed this as it's only a thing within one of the endings of the Roger DLC. Due to this I am quite honestly clueless, but I was able to find one thing that links back to the platypus point of this theory. Obviously this is quite different but male platypuses do produce venom connected to hollow spurs on the pack of their legs, but other than that I am honestly stumped so I hope that somebody can help me w this.

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶︶⠀୨♡୧⠀︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶︶ 

Analysing Phonegingi : putting together everything to come to a conclusion

Now with this information we can come to the conclusion that somehow a platypus, alligator and a human came together and created Phonegingi. For how they combined : If we look at the real world for just a moment there have been actual real life mutations that have led to rats growing features of humans. Although all of these examples are strictly manmade and have never occurred in nature, leading me to think Phonegingi didn't just happen. Although radiation could also be an option.  While I plan on speaking about the human in particular that Gingi took over, I feel it would only be logical to now take a look at object heads to get a better understanding on how exactly Gingi is able to function. 

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Figuring out object heads:

So now we start with the big one. Some may know that dogman has been very useful with helping us figure this out. Okay I am being sarcastic for the most part but this doesn't change the fact that he actually has given us quite a few hints on how this works. 

One main thing we can reference is that within Randy’s route we know that object heads aren't fully wires, but rather are a mixture of organic and mechanical parts. And to quote the hound himself : ‘they have layers’. This could simply be a metaphor or an actual explanation but with this man we don't know. I personally think of this as maybe there is a shell that is around the remaining parts of the head that the object head is placed on top of, making object head transfers much easier.

 Also he had said within the past that phony’s have an ‘adaptor’ of sorts, so that does help a lot despite humans not being born with them as seen here  One more thing I would also like to add before we go in depth about the methods of being dialed ; it is very likely that the technological parts of these objects gain their power from the body, just to clear that up. Either way : I think we should go over all of the different kinds of objects' heads. That being ones given to normies, born object heads and animals n such who are simply born with them.

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Figuring out object heads: normies to objects

This part of my theory was by far the easiest but still wasn't quite that simple, obviously there aren't any real life examples of this happening so we are kinda making this one up along the way. 

One of the main things to keep in mind is that when the dialup happened it happened practically overnight. That means that this progress had to be somewhat quick and considering how little flaws that come with having an object head that aren't exclusive to having an object head, there has to be a clear method to do this. So i propose a possible example for how to do this type of surgery:

The skin would be removed from the face, then the musicales before the bones. Making sure to keep the nerves, veins and brain within place. Then a small incision is made within the neck around these parts to not damage them, this being the base for where the adaptor would be placed on the head. But with this a small hole would be left in the neck to be used as a man-made mouth. (this was wrote b4 knowing its in the base of the head so forgive me) Within this process the olfactory nerve is also connected to this hole or slightly above it from out of the adaptor to retain smell. Moving onto the main head now, the back and front of the object is connected and wires from the phone are connected to certain parts of the brain so it has control with whatever object it may be without having to touch it. For the eyes, the photoreceptors are salvaged and turned into optical receptors with small holes in the head to remain eyesight. And finally, the inner ear is changed for a speaker with a microphone on the outside that picks up on a digital signal that transfers to the speaker inside then back to the brain as sound. With that done the case is closed up with whatever object it is being placed on top.

Now obviously this is just a very early draft of this part of the theory. I am aware there are a few characters that contradict this theory such as Abel, Stabby and Shooty or Craig so i may change this part of my theory at another point in time.

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Figuring out object heads: born object heads

This is also pretty easy to figure out as dogman has actually answered this question before, as claimed here the hound has stated that after the dialup fetuses are born with thinner heads to make the process of dialing easier. although this still raises a few questions.

One of the first ones is if after birth they’re given the similar type procedure as normies, as that is the only solution I can think of. obviously there is the question of how this works outside of hospitals but if i tried to figure that out this post would be too long so it’s probably going to be a very boring post in itself.

The second question is asking how the head is altered in that way. my proposal for how and why is possibly genetic mutations caused by chemicals that would have been taken by pregnant mothers back during the dialup. These could possibly serve as a generational mutation to prevent normie children from happening. not an ideal answer but I'm sure i can put a tad bit more research into this later.

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Figuring out object heads: animal object heads

While I do believe this is somewhat irrelevant for this part, I do think it’s worth mentioning and possibly solving. Unlike humans who aren’t born with them, animals and such are. and if you know almost anything about biology you’d know that animals don’t really have the means to have non organic heads without human intermittent so i think I've finally came to a solution to my final point 

I believe there is a possibility that animals, bugs and whatnot have object heads created out of bone that simply mimic what they’re supposed to be. Due to the existence of horns and such we do know that this kind of thing can exist. but other than this there aren’t many alternatives 

the only reason i bring this up is for my theory it is known that Gingi is an animal so perhaps it could fit into the category of this but due to the whole ‘i made it myself’ line from them it’s very quick to dismiss 

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶︶⠀୨♡୧⠀︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶︶

Figuring out how Gingi is made:

So now that we know or well have a somewhat understanding of how object heads function, that begs the question of how did Phonegingi have this information? How did such a primitive creature gain the knowledge of creating such a complicated head that mirrors the one of the former president that he had never seen before? This is where I propose the idea that maybe the human part of Phonegingi actually belonged to somebody before. That somebody being Milton r Wallace

Okay, I feel like I should explain myself a tad. I know it's quite an outlandish idea but it does explain quite a lot. After all ; it is quite a coincidence there is so much mystery around this character and no instance of him being mentioned in the game. I mean if there was a scene where he was mentioned and Gingi just said ‘oh yeah that’s me’ it would be pretty underwhelming. Jokes aside, Milton’s body being the human part of Gingi does explain one too many things such as the seemingly male anatomy, probably the scar on his chest, hallucinations along with connections to Callum, how he would know how to make their object head and even why he’s in the woods in the first place.

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Figuring out how Gingi is made: scars on the body

I'll start by adding on to my scars as I feel like the male anatomy speaks for itself. Not to mention I promised to return to this so I am now. So let's take a look at the scars that we can see. 

Visibly on the chest and right shoulder we can see two wounds. The one upon the shoulder is a supposed bruise from a gorilla bite (although i got this off the wiki and don’t remember this line from the game so feel free to correct me) and the one upon the chest looking like a gaping wound that was stitched up in a familiar fashion to their head. Since we know that Phonegingi made their head itself it is a possibility that he stitched up this wound upon her chest in a similar way but we cant be sure as it’s never acknowledged.

Second point I would like to add is that on multiple occasions Gingi has been called ‘blue blooded’ but these wounds have a more yellowish brown hue to them rather than the blue that you’d assume. Why is this important? Well if you've ever had the displeasure of seeing dried blood you’d know it eventually changes to a brown colour overtime. Now it doesn't take a genius to know that since the man died around 60 years ago his blood would have been heavily deoxygenated. Perhaps being the reason why when reanimated as Phonegingi his blood was blue form the same lack of oxygen. 

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶︶⠀୨♡୧⠀︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶︶

Figuring out how Gingi is made: hallucinations and Callum connection

This part is a lot more simple to explain, while i am aware of these things only really occurring due to the cough stirrup consumed by it, i find it oddly strange that these things occur in the way that they do especially since presumably before meeting Mingus in bigfoot’s route, Gingi was never even aware of Callum's existence. Plus I don't feel like the hound would add these hallucinations just to write them off as nothing. Maybe somewhere in Gingi’s scrambled brain he had these memories from his previous life leak though. 

Additionally, while Milton being Gingi helps the Callum connection ; it also explains why he would be able to identify Mingus as a cat. For us it would be pretty simple but we need to keep in mind that in Dialtown all organic beings have object heads so Phonegingi would have only ever really seen cats with these heads. While this could be written off as her seeing one within a textbook or something I find that incredibly hard to believe considering they’re confirmed to be illiterate. It could also just be a joke not meant to be looked into like this but it definitely could explain.

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶︶⠀୨♡୧⠀︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶︶

Figuring out how Gingi is made: making the object head

This part of the theory is actually what led me to believing that Milton could be Gingi as he would be one of the only characters who had a physical resemblance to it as far as we know along with having access to that knowledge. Considering we see Gingi make their phone head similar to Callum, maybe he was shown the pattern by Cal when explaining the dialup close to the end of their friendship. Same thing could be said for the typewriter variant of them, probably mirroring Marla’s head since the typewriter head was based upon her along with there being hints of them two having a platonic relationship but since she is sadly as mysterious as him so we may never know.

Either way, since Phonegingi presumably came from the woods it wouldn't make sense for them to make an object head within there. Especially since Theoroar had it in captivity in their early years so it wouldn't make sense for Gingi to create an object head with other animals while caged. If i may even say, i personally struggle to wrap my head around why Gingi would decide to conform with their head considering she certainly does not conform by wearing clothes.

Oh alright.

Either way, I have two options why this would even be the case. The first option is that he was found by Mingus who forced this change upon them so they made the object head. But this doesn't make sense within the context of chapter 3 where Mingus hints at discovering Gingi for the first time. After all; Mingus would probably have just gotten rid of it earlier if that. So for the second option, which is much darker mind you, but perhaps their face could have been heavily mutilated by Milton’s early death along with the decades of rotting that he had to improvise by fixing it with a head made in the way that he had remembered from Callum. This also explains why it's a tad bit different from the norm too since Gingi’s brain would have been a tad bit screwed with this too. Either way, I'll let you decide what option works best with you.

Also a side note; i did actually consider Marla as a possible candidate for Gingi but there was one too many plot holes such as her dying of old age so her body would look a lot different, a lack of any comment by Mingus talking about Marla and her most likely getting a proper burial from somewhere that isn't the woods. 

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶︶⠀୨♡୧⠀︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶︶

Figuring out how Gingi is made: why he would be in the woods

Speaking of being in the woods, I have a small idea for why Milton’s body would wind up being there. As far as we know basically every single person who knew him wouldn't have been around, plus as of making this post he has no confirmed family so it's hard to say. Perhaps his body was simply thrown into the woods? I suppose it would be irregular to do that but considering who Milton was it would make sense that this act would be covered up and simply not addressed at all. Perhaps even respecting him enough to dig him a proper grave would attract unwanted attention along with the fact that there are just not enough people who would care for him enough. 

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶︶⠀୨♡୧⠀︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶︶

Putting this all together : 

With that all being said. Let me summarize all the information that I've proposed so far. We have theorized that Phonegingi has the DNA of a platypus and alligator that has been combined with the body of the former vice president, having some form of lead poisoning from the lake and radiation that has combined these creatures together. There are two questions left now, the first one being just how did these creatures find their way into the woods to combine with the body, and the second and by far the most important one being just how did this creature come to fruition.

The first one is easy, some may know that platypuses and alligators aren't native to Wisconsin but we need to remember that these creatures could be found within a zoo. And would you look at that, in Dialtown we do have a zookeeper, the same zookeeper that found Phonegingi mind you. It is possible that Theoroar decided to dump these two within the woods for whatever reason and they somehow wound up next to the corpse and got mixed up. I understand this isn't a perfect explanation, but it is somewhat logical for now.

Now onto my second point, it isn't as clear but I feel like I've found a solution for how this creature came to life. It doesn't take a genius to know that Milton is dead, meaning even if these animals mutated them it still would leave her dead so it's hard to figure out but I still feel like I have a solution. If you remember I did state that Phonegingi came together as one could possibly be man made so perhaps this same person brought their freakish creation to life. And perhaps that person is none other than enc0unter but this post is getting too long.

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶︶⠀୨♡୧⠀︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶︶

I apologize for leaving this theory on a cliff hanger but this post is getting long and i have a lot more to say about Gingi and enc0unter. As stated in the same poll from the beginning I will be making a whole different theory / analysis about that stuff. With that being said, please let me know your opinions on this theory and if you'd like me to make the enc0unter one or a part 2 when i have the time. so yeah thanks for going though the effort to read this whole thing!! it means a lot

[yxstxrdrxxm-a]

And that... Is the end of Flawed.

Or the one I hosted for my silly event here anyway.

[ TL;DR under read more: The lack of interest and stress I got from irl matters led me to drop the event and ending it early, but! I have a blog made for the sake of continuing/restarting the event.

Please vote on the poll if you want it to be catered to the reader or stick to Yesterday, and be unbiased, too. Vote what you want, and I'll try and make it happen.]

CONTEXT UTC:

So, I know you guys have a lot of questions, and I can't blame you. I know the biggest one in your mind right now, which is:

Why did I end Flawed early?

The reason why I ended Flawed was actually multiple. Please keep in mind that these are for my observations, and overall I'm not blaming anyone for this. I just noticed it and thought I should bring it up lol.

1. Writing for days burnt me out.

Although Flawed is a passion story/project of mine, writing so much burnt me out. And by a lot. There were days I struggled to think of writing because I have other commitments to do, and sometimes its why polls came out super late or super early. I tried to compensate for it by posting 1 poll a day, but when it didn't work, I pushed myself to make more for 1 day.

I wanted so badly for the whole event to flow like a CYOA because by next month (April), I won't be free to host this as I used to with OLC. However, in that process, I burnt myself out to the point I needed to take longer breaks/forget this event.

It sucks. I would not recommend doing this if you think you want to (because it is NOT worth it).

2. Interactions were... Lacking.

This event is interaction heavy, and the reason why is because you guys control the story that Yesterday and others are in. Naturally, this also affects the characters and how I shape Flawed from start to finish. I have a plot line for it, of course, but the interactions were... Not there.

I noticed the usual ones from my mutuals, sure, but there were moments that I felt like I was simply posting to no one. It was unfortunate during the time with Diluc, where I had hoped that some of you would go, but due to complications (ahem, the votes weren't able to decide on going when the deadline was up), I had to write how it's supposed to go with some... Changes.

It also made me feel sad to see that there weren't much (if at all) interactions to Yesterday. Tinuvion received a fair bit, which is nice because he's a little shit (please bully him lol), but Yesterday after the first week and a half just... Didn't get any. At least, in my records.

I'm not saying this to guilt you guys to interact more, but I am saying this because it feels sad for me to see that unlike OLC, this... Flopped. I had a lot of responses + moments planned if it took off that much, but... Oh well. There's always that one story that won't hit for everyone.

And finally:

3. Maybe you guys wanted it to be catered to you, not to an OC.

I had a feeling that, from the start, Flawed may not take off.

Unlike One Last Call (which was a matchup event + story), Flawed was a CYOA but you guys aren't the main focus/MC, Yesterday (my oc) is. I was hoping that with this method, you guys get to play the omnipotent voice and see how far the story can go until it's conclusion.

However, as I hosted the event for the next few days to weeks, I realized that it was simply too difficult. Maybe I wasn't prepared to host this type of format, as ambitious as it is, but I realized that maybe, you guys don't deserve this format and I should've made it catered to a reader insert instead.

It was hard for me to swallow the pill that this event may not be fun for the majority. I knew that having an OC be the MC + canon characters interact with them may be flaky at best (esp the whole OC x Canon being... well. very much a huge "oh dear"), but seeing minimal interaction/interest than my friends were (and people I admire, too. Hi Harmony! o/!!) and realizing that maybe I shouldn't have done this just... Made me regret it.

For that, I'd like to say:

I'm so, so sorry that this event failed. I'm very sorry if you guys expected it to be like OLC: about the reader/reader insert format.

I know it's not right for me to apologize, but I feel that I have to. I let all of you down, and I don't want you guys to be disappointed in something that you all don't like to see in this blog.

So I decided that I'll run this event in its own blog, but here's the thing.

I don't know if I should keep Yesterday in the blog.

I have to open up a poll for this, so here's the options you guys have for it's fate:

If you guys want it to be a reader insert game (aka you are the main star, not Yesterday), I will set up a menu to BUILD your personal darling.

This means that you guys get to decide how darling will look, the gender, their preferences, and even their job. However, this will be for your darling, and if darling dies, you can't use them anymore.

PROS: This is catered to the reader, and thus, you guys are the ones to choose your own destiny. I won't be the one to decide this time, and if the majority agrees on a specific option, your darling will do just that. This is also more open for variety + reader/canon interaction because I know some of you would have a lot of fun being able to see yourselves in the story.

CONS: When your darling dies, you get the chance to restart. However, the game will continue on with a new darling you guys will have to make and the stats reset to zero. The characters will also mention your past darling, and you'll have to restart from scratch. I still need to tweak this, but just know that it is VERY tricky for you if your first darling dies.

If you guys want it to stay the same (Yesterday is the MC), the format will remain the same.

This means what you witnessed here in the blog WILL happen on the other blog.

PROS: You guys get to either continue or restart with Yesterday's story, and with newfound knowledge, you get to choose more options that were previously unavailable. This also opens up to you all being able to essentially shape Yesterday's outlook + what'll happen to them, because you are the one guiding them to their happy ending.

CONS: This one does not offer a restart like the reader insert (one try only), and this could result to another "this'll flop because many people aren't interested". We've seen it happen here, so please decide wisely.

If you guys want BOTH, the format will be different as you have the option to build a darling (reader insert) or stick to Yesterday's story.

This means there will be a new system for both options to be available, alongside new menus!

PROS: You guys get to have a chance of an 'easy route' or 'hard route' and all of you can use your experience/s to get your desired ending for either one <3 go crazy lol

CONS: If you choose one of the two options for both, the latter will be locked. That's the only consequence I have for this one tbh.

So yes, I'd like to say thank you, and sorry for the fail of Flawed on this blog. I wish I could give you all the quality like in OLC, but there were... Too many things to consider. Sobs.

If you guys still want to continue, please lmk. I worked hard on Flawed and I still want to continue, but this time, its a permanent event and will be on my own pace.

Thank you for your support. Again. And I'll see you guys next time (be it a random fic or the next event <3)

[just-some-guy-joust]

Just Some Guy OC Tourney - Side A: Round 4

Rules:

do NOT be mean to anyone or any characters in these polls. you MUST clarify if you are joking/teasing or you will be blocked. if you are someone who entered an oc into this and you are mean to other contestants you will be disqualified

do NOT claim a character doesn't deserve to be here. yes including your own. be nice

if you are posting propaganda you have to @ tag us, including if your propaganda is in the reblogs. it is difficult to tell when something is or isn't propaganda. anything not tagging us will likely be missed

please don't hesitate to let me know if i messed something up!

have fun, hype each other up <3 thank you

Adan Botello | He/him | @rainecloud020604

Adan is a highschooler who is just looking to pass class, go home and play Minecraft. He doesn't want to be unique or special any more than he is, maybe being a Minecraft YouTuber would be awesome but that's all he wants out of life. No matter what is thrown at him he tends to run away from it, like a fantasy world trying to claim he's a prince, he wants nothing to do with it. He just wants to be a normal kid, graduate high school and play Minecraft. He's also got transgender and autistic swag

Promos: https://toyhou.se/17322997.adan-botello check out the comic featuring Adan on this blog @a-tale-in-a-bottle

~

Wally Rosette | He/him | @hershelchocolateart

Wally Rosette is a 15-year-old kid who was chosen (and then kidnapped) to attend the Elite Villainous International Learning facility. This position, however, is solely because his parents were world-famous villains. Wally himself has no interest in the business, and is often described as the sweetest person any of the cast has ever met. He spends most of his time in the background, helping out faculty and students with their homework or various tasks, and only ever becoming relevant when homework *is* the plot of the week. Wally is just a kind kid who knows better than to get involved in the plot and loves his friends so so so so so so so fucking much it's unreal

Promos: https://toyhou.se/8256045.wally-rosette <-wallys toyhouse profile! https://www.webtoons.com/en/canvas/the-villain-school/list?title_no=97541 <-the comic he's in (discontinued because I'm doing a different one - it is 6/40 chapters with a planned remake Somewhere in the distant future)

~

Tulip | It/Its | @joyfulness03

-Literally just a little tulip mouse -Caught in the middle of a monster war, but is entirely oblivious to anything happening (not privy to The Horrors, because it is literally just a mouse) -Day plans: curling up in the sun to photosynthesize. it is fully booked, indefinitely -The most neutral of neutral parties (group pet) and the most background of background characters (group pet) -very friendly to everyone that pets it and gives its treats. it only bites a little bit, just little love nibbles. Average rodent behavior but with slightly sharper, plantier teeth

~

Full images and descriptions under the cut!

Despite the fact all he desires to be is just some guy the universe keeps trying to make him more than some guy. He's supposed to be a hero, a prince, but he keeps running from the idea of it so much he ends up in another world entirely and all he wants is to go home and be normal, all he wants! He's not looking to save his sister, she can save herself she's strong. He just wants to go home :( that's all he really wants in life and he's getting really tired of the universe saying otherwise

THIS IS MY VERY FAVORITE BABY BOY So Wally is a sweet kid, but because his parents were world-famous, he never really got a choice in who they raised him to be. This resulted in him having a BUNCH of self-worth issues that he tries to deal with on the side because he doesn't want to get his friends involved. He has two (2) major points in the plot (OUT OF 40 CHAPTERS)- one plot point where he ignores the main antagonist to get a boyfriend instead, and one where his entire arc finally culminates in "Wally Learns How To Say No To People." Outside of that, he does NOTHING regarding the main plot and is a C plot character at best. He is simply involved and there in the background because I love him so much and he is my precious little baby boy and yeah sure maybe I loved him so much I made 27 alternate universe versions of him that all have plot relevance in all my stuff but *this* wally is simply a boy and he is blue and he is lovely and I would kill and cry for him every day

[no extra description provided]

[briarglenrp]

          𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐄𝐍'𝐒 𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐃 𝐁𝐀𝐋𝐋

❝ 𝘈 𝘥𝘪𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘳𝘢𝘳𝘦. 𝘐 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘸 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘢𝘭𝘭, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘹𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘮𝘢𝘴 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘢 𝘥𝘪𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳. 𝘐 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘸 𝘢 𝘻𝘦𝘣𝘳𝘢 𝘣𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦. 𝘋𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘢 𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘻𝘦𝘣𝘳𝘢 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳? ❞

Ah, the sound of hoofbeats dances upon the cobblestones, as delivery lads tirelessly assault the grandest of thresholds with the vigor of hopeful romantics! With deft hands, they present elegantly scripted missives to the unsuspecting souls who dare to draw back the door’s ornate façade. It is now 1813, and lo! A new season unfurls before us, heralded by none other than the Queen's illustrious Diamond Ball. A most opulent affair to unveil the charming debutantes before the reigning sovereign and parade eligible daughters for the matrimonial melee. Thus, the season's grand tableau is set. As the lovely maidens curtsy in the presence of royalty, a gallery of eager suitors, attentive mothers, distinguished gentlemen, and those fortunate or unfortunate enough to have secured their prospects, scrutinize every charming visage. Yet, it is solely the discerning gaze of the Queen that reigns supreme. A mere glance of disdain can send a young lady’s worth spiraling into the depths of obscurity. Conversely, should she capture the queen’s favor, her fortunes may ascend to dizzying heights, though, as we are all too aware, the brighter the light, the swifter the flame extinguishes. So, welcome to the inaugural soirée of the season! Are you ready to twirl amidst the whispers? A gentle reminder, darlings — the Queen is not the only keen observer; for Lady Whistledown, with her watchful eyes and ears, remains ever vigilant.

𝐎𝐎𝐂 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐖 :

𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐏'𝐒 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓 : 𝘢 𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘯𝘪𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘣𝘢𝘭𝘭, 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘺𝘢𝘭 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺 ( 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 ).

𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞 ; August 30th, 2024 @ 8:00PM EST.

𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞 ; September 06th, 2024 @ 12:00PM EST. ( may end sooner/later upon group discussion )

𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐞 ; dash event.

𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐝 𝐢𝐧-𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞 ; one night.

𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ; the illustrious English palace, shall unveil its grand ballroom for our revelries, whilst the enchanting garden will shimmer with twinkling candles and delightful decorations, enticing all who dare to wander!

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 ; briarglen:event01. briarglen:start.

𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭 ; a notice will be posted when the event begins, please refreign from posting starters / threads before this. however, please feel free to post outfits and such ( if you would like ) before and use the 'briarglen:event01' tag.

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 :

the diamond of the season for this season will be a non-playable character to make things fair across the board. at some point, we'll discuss together when this season ends and the next begins and we'll chat about doing a little poll maybe or randomized selection for the diamond - or if you all prefer having it as an npc.

if your character is not participating in the season / not being presented, they are still invited to attend the party as a guest. the event will start at the ball after the ladies have been presented to The Queen.

as The Queen herself loves to show her magnificent Diamond Ball off - all classes of society are invited.

a thread for this event will be added to the ‘summaries’ channel for individuals to post summaries / the important points of the event for each of their characters.

[miscmonstro]

You Strike Me as Familiar (I’ve Never Met You Before)

Remember that poll? Now its time to fanfic! If you’re wondering how this fanfic + poll thing will work, check out this post. 

Current Characters: Tim Drake, Wes Weston

Summary: Tim forgot to change his shoes after PE. This creates more problems than one might think, but it also opens up a whole world of opportunity.

🪤 + 📱 - Segment 1 - 🪤 + 📱 

He’d forgotten to change his shoes, and honestly? Tennis shoes were more comfortable than the stiff oxfords the dress code required. Of course he’d try to get away with not changing his shoes at some point.

…or maybe he’d made the mistake after running on four hours of sleep. Not that he’d admit it. In any case, he couldn’t go to class like this. With a frustrated exhale, Tim turned sharply on his heel and marched back to the locker room. He tried the door and couldn’t hide his grimace when he realized it was locked.

Tilting his hand and raising his arm, Tim examined his watch and realized that he did not have much time before his next class.

He could still make it if he was quick.

Glancing around the hall to ensure no one was nearby, he pulled out a small, black rectangular box and used his thumb to pop it open. Inside was an array of slim tools with a variety of flat and curved and hooked tips, all designed just for this. Picking the lock and getting the door open was a quick process and he silently slipped inside, ready to grab his shoes and bolt. Instead, when he rounded the corner into the should-be-deserted room, he came across Wesley Weston.

Wesley was a classmate of his and was also the most unremarkable boy Tim had ever come across. Lean and stupidly tall, the redheaded boy had pale skin dotted with freckles and an obvious midwestern accent. He was a scholarship student from a small city in Illinois with two parents, divorced, and two sisters. Basketball and photography were his pastimes. He had a bit of a reputation for being a neat freak and he knew all the gossip, somehow. Wesley was very self conscious, however, and so while he was aware of the drama at any given time he was never really a part of it. Reserved and not-rich, no one paid Wesley much mind. He wasn’t worth much attention.

Or so Tim had thought.

He stared and wondered just how wrong he was. Automatically, he catalogued the sickly bruises dotted along Wesley’s arms. There were probably more under the tank top he had on.

One injury drew Tim’s attention more than the others. 

Wesley’s forearm was cut. It a long, ugly thing that started at the elbow and curved around to slice into and past his wrist.

It was the exact same injury Damian had inflicted on Spyris with his kusarigama two nights ago.

That was one heck of a distinct cut. Tim couldn’t call this a coincidence, not even remotely.

That meant he’d just discovered that Wesley Weston was Spyris. 

This was huge. Spyris was a vigilante? Villain? They didn’t know. In fact, they knew worrying little about the new player even through he’d been around for a good seven months. His movements were erratic after they’d confronted him initially and none of his actions had discernible patterns. Tim had spent many-a-night tearing his hair out as he searched for buried clues no one could find. The only thing the bats knew, besides the fact that he was a caucasian male, was that he had may or may not have had freckles. 

This was a golden opportunity to glean information- motives, goals, mode of operation, everything. 

Spyris was tricky though. Tim couldn’t afford to scare him off or he might never get another chance- he would have to approach this very, very carefully.

He could turn around and walk out. His reputation might take a hit if he showed up to class in the wrong shoes, but could he risk alerting Wesley? 

Or he could get his shoes and play it off, pretend the coach let him in. But maybe… he could dig. Just a little- they were alone in here anyway. And besides, it’s not like Wesley had any reason to be suspicious of Tim Drake.

[shivunin]

Post-Trespasser Emmaera

I wanted to make a quick post about Emma's prosthetic since the topic (re: that poll) is going around at the moment.

I based her prosthetic on the ones Götz von Berlichingen wore in the early 1500s. Götz was a knight/mercenary who lost his right arm at the elbow in 1504 when "enemy cannon fire jolted von Berlichingen’s blade against himself" (Source). He commissioned his prosthesis from a local blacksmith, and the prosthesis in question had hinged fingers which were capable of locking in place in blocks of two. von Berlichingen used his iron hand to wield a sword (rather successfully) and eventually commissioned a second prosthesis which was capable of grasping smaller objects (including a quill; he wrote a whole autobiography which wasn't published until 1731, well after his death).

But more to the point here: Götz von Berlichingen's arm was an incredible example of engineering even at its time. The design of its second iteration (pictured below) was driven entirely by his experiences with the first. He wanted the second version to have leather straps to hold it more firmly in place and fingers that were capable of more exact articulation as well as wrist joints that could pivot.

When I decided to write Emma post-Trespasser, I did a lot of research on what it was like to live with one hand, but von Berlichingen's story was the one that stuck with me the most. I spent a lot of time looking at these schematics and trying to figure out how Dagna could make something like this in the Dragon Age universe.

Because the off-hand motion in the game's animation is usually one that's supporting the staff, not specifically twisting it, I thought it made the most sense to conceptualize something along the same lines as the second iteration above. A mage would need something capable of pivoting/angling with the movement of the staff, and that's pretty easily achieved with hinges, as seen above, and (though ball bearings weren't invented until 1794) ball bearings could allow the hand to pivot 360 degrees (something you, uh, maybe wouldn't want if your hand is locked onto the staff). The fingers, elbow, and wrist are lockable using pins in the joints and a buttons on the back of the hand release each respective set of joints.

I like the idea of them having to go through several iterations of prostheses to find out what actually works for the Inquisitor (Dagna is a genius, but this isn't necessarily the sort of project she's worked on before) with consistent input from the person using it, just as von Berlichingen was able to adjust the second iteration of his own prosthesis to better fit his needs as a fighter. It is something she has to actually train with to use effectively, of course, just like using any new tool in combat.

Now---she does have a more ostensibly fantasy version that has hinged fingers which grasp when she manipulates the lyrium in them with magic. She doesn't use this version often because, frankly, the lockable fingers of her regular prosthesis can do anything she would really need them for and having to expend constant concentration to use the other prosthesis isn't really worth it to her (though she appreciated the thought).

The first one is for combat and when she is in her workroom (it's easier to grind herbs if she's holding the mortar still) and she uses it almost exclusively if she's going to be wearing a prosthetic at all. Usually, due to damage her residual limb has taken from the combat prosthesis, she just hangs out without any prosthesis. In her home, the chairs are modified with a mouthpiece so her hound can pull the chairs away from the table for her, and there are a lot of other ways the house has been set up as she needs. She has various other tools she can use to, for example, hold paper steady while she writes. But when she needs it---and since she went through her vigilante period, she has used the prosthesis to fight---she does have the arm Dagna made her.

Anyways---I obviously think von Berlichingen is fascinating (I haven't even touched on him kidnapping nobles or that his hand is part of his hometown's crest), so I recommend reading more about him in general. Sources: NIH, Atlas Obscura (which is the easier read), image source 2, and the Wikipedia article if you want the summary.

[halos-top-alien-model]

consider this a bonus thing while waiting for the polls to end

I have written 12k+ words in this oneshot and Rtas is finally about to actually meet Nizat, the entire point of this whole thing. the end is in sight. have some out of context bits to celebrate:

(hilariously wrong theories #1)

Shadow of Intent had other goals - mainly the search for a San'Shyuum flotilla - but that search was taking an eternity to bear fruit. In between the hunt, the ship would take part in defense of Sangheili territory, diplomatic matters, and even urgent combat operations if desperately needed. This mission was a bit of all three, and it helped that Shadow of Intent had already been a good distance close to this system. Who knows - maybe the culprit they'd unmask would in fact be the missing San'Shyuum, attempting to use the "cursed" planet as a hiding spot nobody would dare check.

(hilariously wrong theories #2)

But what if they were all wrong. What if there was some third party or unknown factor playing against both sides? What if this thing was the reason for this planet's dreadful name?

In the deep recesses of his mind, Rtas could not help but think of the Flood. Remnants of the parasite were still hidden across the galaxy, imprisoned by the Forerunners but just as capable of returning to its former conquest if underestimated. There were a few rare occurrences, barring the encounters on the Halo rings, that the Flood was said to have appeared during the war. It was not impossible to imagine that these ship casualties were due to the crews trying to prevent the parasite from breaking free from this system. Even then, it did not have to be the Flood themselves - there could other horrors that the Forerunners kept hidden on the old worlds.

Were there truly castaways waiting for them on the surface? Or was it something else that was just as eager to travel to the greater galaxy using their ship?

(Tul & Vul getting along + Rtas' having a good unstressful day)

"Shipmaster!" Another voice broke through COMMs, but this time from Tul. "We have located the humans-"

Both Rtas and Vul whirled around, facing the cave.

"In there?!" he asked, incredulous on the stroke of luck. "So the envoy has-"

"Throw your weapons towards the cave entrance first. Or else they will shoot."

Vul scoffed. "And why would we fear a few-"

"Not at you, fool!" Tul fired back.

With that declaration, Rtas could only wonder how things went wrong.

(suspicious slip-up #1)

"Hold on..." the leader said. "How do we know this isn't a trap? That all you're saying is a lie? Mo-"

Despite possibly being a subordinate, one of the humans at his side slammed a shoulder in his side.

"The Lieutenant Commander said Innies sometimes tried working with the Covenant!" Melody took note at the correction there.

(suspicious slip-up #2)

"We're not letting either of you out of this cave just yet," the leader replied back. "Not with your buddies right outside. The Lieutenant Commander is on her way."

One of his buddies faltered then. "But... When she gets here, she's gonna-"

"Not in front of them, idiot!"

(uh-oh Rtas)

And Rtas had just landed a majority of his ground-side forces on the mouth of a super-weapon. Now he had a second reason to worry for Stolt.

(Energy Sword Sunday)

The only thing Stolt found that was familiar with them were the Energy Swords at their sides. Couldn't be Sangheili without them.

(Rtas propaganda)

"And this Shipmaster? Can you vouch for him as your Rangers have for you?"

"Can I? His renown is second to only our founder! The sole survivor that quashed one parasite outbreak, the leader that sprung up to quarantine High Charity when another hit, the commander that won against a Covenant fleet with a 3-1 disadvantage, the one who bested a Prelate and saved a colony world from destruction!" If Rtas could hear this, he'd surely be shutting this down, but Stolt knew that playing him up was the best play here. He could see it in 'Lakosee's eyes - Rtas' worth was being tested right now, and he wasn't even here to defend himself! So it'd have to come down to the words of a subordinate, just as it worked for Stolt; and even if Stolt was exaggerating his tone a little, he truly respected Rtas more than possibly anyone else. Maybe even a bit more than the Arbiter himself, although it helped that Stolt saw Rtas every single day in comparison to the mythological-levels the Arbiter had taken on to everyone outside of his immediate vicinity.

(uh oh Stolt)

Stolt blinked once. Then twice. And for the rest of the wait time for Rtas' arrival, he debated on whether these were a better or a worse kind of crazy cultists.

(heheh i'm kicking my legs)

"There is no deal sweet enough to make me betray the Arbiter," Rtas said.

(Rtas' day goes from good to great)

So, this had to be it - the full and honest truth. This Worldmaster could do miraculous things with his mind somehow and everyone believed it was due to the divine.

How the hell do you respond to such a situation?! Even with all the time in the world, how do you formulate a plan to counter this? He had only minutes to figure that out!

[purpleplaid17]

Jess Watches // Sun 17 Dec // Day 86 Synopses & Favourite Scenes & Poll

Person of Interest (rw with mum) 5x13 Return 0 (Series Finale)

Finch, Reese, Fusco and Shaw embark on one last mission to prevent Samaritan from destroying The Machine and cementing its hold over mankind.

The series seeming even more relevant a decade later. The dangers of living in a surveillance state and not trusting the government to monitor us with any kind of fairness and justice. The importance of human connections and helping others when we can. That the effort to be good is always worth it.

“Everyone dies alone. But if you mean something to someone… if you help someone or love someone, and even a single person remembers you… then maybe you never really die at all?”

Monarch: Legacy of Monsters 1x06 Terrifying Miracles

Shaw finds an unlikely ally within Monarch as the team has a harrowing run-in. Keiko and Lee grow closer while at a military ball.

I missed the 50's and having the dual storylines so it's not surprising this was one of the best of the season. I still don't trust Lee, but his doomed-by-the-narrative romance with Keiko is quite sweet. Even Bill noticing and giving them some privacy. I'm guessing Lee messing up by going to Japan will mean at some point in the future he does something for Monarch to try salvage his career and his relationship with Keiko, but it only pushes her further away. // Godzilla taking a decades long nap is a mood tbh. No wonder he was pissed at being woken. Also, Cate finding any opportunity to hold May's hand like the messy lesbian she is lol.

The Family Plan (Film)

Used car salesman Dan (Mark Wahlberg) is living the American dream as a family man in the suburbs with wonderful wife Jessica (Michelle Monaghan). But Dan has a secret.

So much potential but never quite reaching it. The fight scenes were pretty impressive (minus the baby always in shot during the early ones) and the acting was solid. It would've been a tenser action/drama without the script forcing the comedy element imo. Even though there was a couple of genuinely funny oneliners near the end, most of it just didn't work for me. And Michelle and Maggie should've been the exes!