Radical Honesty @eloker - Tumblr Blog

What do you call it again?

— RADICAL HONESTY*.

RULES AND BIO UNDER CUT! VERSES LINK! open starters link!

#lie to me rp #indie rp #procedural drama rp #tv show rp #tv series rp #detective rp #drama rp #promo #pinned post

OOC|| Genuinely sorry for lack of activity. First there was the holiday rush and now Santa got me trauma for Christmas. I'll need some time.

#ooc .lattes and browsing

zachrp

ᝰ🚬 𝚉𝙰𝙲𝙷𝚁𝙿 .ᐟ RANDOM ACTS PROMPTS. CHANGE ANY PRONOUNS IF NECESSARY. SOME MATURE THEMES MAY BE PRESENT. SEND "REVERSE" TO SWITCH THE ROLES OF SENDER AND RECEIVER.

PLATONIC / STRANGERS

SENDER drapes their jacket over RECEIVER'S shoulders.

SENDER signals RECEIVER with a subtle gesture.

SENDER slows their pace so RECEIVER can keep up.

SENDER whispers from just behind RECEIVER'S shoulder.

SENDER offers RECEIVER the last piece of food without comment.

SENDER sits beside RECEIVER without needing to be asked.

SENDER asks if RECEIVER made it home safe.

SENDER shares an umbrella with RECEIVER, leaning into the rain.

SENDER listens to RECEIVER without interrupting.

SENDER steals a glance when RECEIVER isn't looking.

SENDER smiles at RECEIVER without explanation.

SENDER carries RECEIVER'S bag when it gets too heavy.

SENDER passes RECEIVER a note that says ________.

SENDER nudges RECEIVER with their shoulder playfully.

SENDER reminds RECEIVER to eat.

SENDER guides RECEIVER through a crowd by the hand.

SENDER holds the door open for RECEIVER without rushing.

SENDER offers quiet RECEIVER company instead of advice.

SENDER stays with RECEIVER even when they could leave.

SENDER brushes lint from RECEIVER'S sleeve.

SENDER leans their head against RECEIVER'S shoulder.

SENDER slips something into RECEIVER'S pocket.

SENDER hides behind RECEIVER when trouble passes by.

AFFECTIONATE / ROMANTIC

SENDER tucks loose hair behind RECEIVER'S ear.

SENDER squeezes RECEIVER'S hand gently.

SENDER rests their chin on RECEIVER'S head.

SENDER kisses RECEIVER deeply.

SENDER traces idle shapes on RECEIVER'S arm.

SENDER pulls RECEIVER into a lingering hug.

SENDER presses their forehead to RECEIVER'S.

SENDER bites RECEIVER'S lower lip gently.

SENDER rubs slow circles into RECEIVER'S back.

SENDER pulls RECEIVER closer by the hips.

SENDER presses their body against RECEIVER'S.

SENDER kisses RECEIVER'S temple softly.

SENDER cradles RECEIVER'S face in both hands.

SENDER smooths a hand down RECEIVER'S hair.

SENDER interlaces their fingers with RECEIVER'S.

SENDER trails kisses down RECEIVER'S neck.

SENDER leans in just close enough to feel RECEIVER'S breath.

SENDER kisses RECEIVER slowly, unhurried.

SENDER guides RECEIVER'S hands where they want them.

SENDER murmurs praise against RECEIVER'S skin.

SENDER guides RECEIVER closer by the waist.

SENDER whispers something meant only for RECEIVER.

SENDER presses RECEIVER gently against a wall.

SENDER traces RECEIVER'S jawline with their thumb.

SENDER pulls RECEIVER into their lap.

SENDER brushes their lips against RECEIVER'S knuckles.

SENDER tilts RECEIVER'S chin up.

SENDER pulls RECEIVER back when they try to leave.

AGGRESSIVE / VIOLENT

SENDER blocks RECEIVER'S path.

SENDER crushes RECEIVER'S fingers underfoot.

SENDER shoves RECEIVER back a step.

SENDER crowds into RECEIVER'S space.

SENDER grips RECEIVER'S collar.

SENDER shoves RECEIVER against a surface.

SENDER bashes RECEIVER'S head against a wall.

SENDER steps closer when RECEIVER backs away.

SENDER shoves past RECEIVER hard.

SENDER yanks something from RECEIVER'S hands.

SENDER slams a fist beside RECEIVER'S head.

SENDER strikes RECEIVER to instigate a fight.

SENDER chokes RECEIVER until they struggle.

SENDER grabs RECEIVER'S wrist.

SENDER slams RECEIVER into the ground.

SENDER breaks RECEIVER'S nose.

SENDER drags RECEIVER across the floor.

SENDER pins RECEIVER in place.

SENDER forces RECEIVER'S head under water.

#ask games .research reports #long post /

OOC|| I know it's controversial to some of you people when you seem to completely ignore historical context around the hammer and sickle symbol... but a very clear forewarning, my Baltic ass is unfollowing you at the least if you ever put that shit on my dash. From all the things I don't want to fucking see, that's pretty high on the fucking list.

#ooc .lattes and browsing

gunmetallic

⸺ on soulmates and suffering.

Fyodor Dostoevsky // via tullipsink // Faiz Ahmed Faiz // Margaret Atwood // sam sax // Mary Shelley. also see: soulmate (horror)

#ism .white lies #long post /

peterkelson

open starter. open to anyone! synopsis + about my muse: my muse is a journalist and best selling author of true crime novels as well as the chosen personification of the devil - he may or may not know this at this point, we can decide as it goes. our muses are at a release party and strike up a conversation. your muse can be a demon, demon hunter, fan, etc. surprise me. i'm open to whatever.

Peter takes a drag off of his cigarette as he takes in the fresh air from the balcony. Release parties could always be so overwhelming, with everyone vying for your attention. Sometimes he just needed a break from all the stares and he could think of no better way to do that than a cigarette, well... maybe alcohol, but he's had enough of that tonight.

As he gives a good roll of his shoulders, he hears the sliding door open and he the tension sets back in as quickly as it was lost. Couldn't he have a moment to himself for once? Flicking a few ashes off of his cigarette, he turns around to face the other.

eloker

—* Going to the release party had been a whim. He had seen the invitation on Lightman’s desk, swiped it, firing on pure spite. The boss wouldn’t care to make an appearance either way, so where was the harm? It took a small lie to get in, conceptualized Radical Honestly slipping out of Eli’s once tight grasp by each passing day. He didn’t bother to call in sick to work, he just shut off his phone, took the bus to the great city of New York in the early morning and worked through avoiding cameras at the event (easy when nobody cared). The idea was he’d feel good about himself, important, boost his ego. Instead, Eli blended right in with the furniture. Aside the few conversations with people who accidentally had a bit too much, nobody knows who Eli Loker the deception expert was. And there’s no one willing to find out. He’s just helping himself to the alcohol and scoffing at the elitism soon enough.

His rebellion had failed once more. This was a mistake.

He didn’t care for literature on the evils man can commit, he didn’t think it was healthy to commemorate the vile monsters capable of such horrendous things and not the ones who fell because of them. Those whose lives were snuffed out before their time… Except, voicing that in those words almost made him sound like a boy who forgot if he was Catholic or not. Eli knew where he stood, knew he got annoying when fighting what others devoted themselves to.

Stepping out onto the balcony was a mere attempt to give himself space to think, Eli’s own mistake he didn’t check if anybody was already there. Yet, his frustration wrapped around him in such sharp barbwire he refused to apologize and leave. He recognized the face of the man there, the author for whom this party is purposed.

“I just need something resembling silence,” He says by way of ‘don’t mind me’ and he did mean it for a split second there. Shutting the door, leaning back on the railing a decent distance away, getting air. Provided he has any intent to get on the bus tonight and head back to D.C. where things were worse. To get his car from the parking lot, drive to his shitty apartment. Pass out in his bed, burying the scream he wants to let out but never does. He won’t make small talk, refuses to—

The horrifying side-effects of practicing his own philosophy for so long, spewing everything his mind has to offer, it’s unwavering. He can’t stop it, he’s long since forgotten the self-control instilled to him by his father. The call to be stoic, because that’s what men do. He’s ruined all that work, ruined himself for everyone. He speaks before it even register to him. “You’re kind of a scumbag, aren’t you?”

#feeling the pressure to start anew [horror verse]#peterkelson #{ Hi hope you don't mind I helped myself to a starter! }#{ also sorry this got wordy. lmk if anything is too off! }

deerfests-deactivated20260113

Lie to Me | The Royal We (Season 3, Episode 2)

#lightman .a genius but a bully #self .radical honesty #gifs /

birdonawiresara

“What, and deny me the joy of stealing more supplies?” Sara teased. “Look, if I get the chance to grab an ice pack, I will. If not, I’ll let you take care of it at work or at your place, okay? And as for covering the cost, I know I’m right. I am in very high demand, which means there are very few who can afford me. Unless there’s donuts involved. Or Patty Shack burgers. Or peanut M&Ms. Then, occasionally, bartering is an option.” After that, he was calling her heroic, stating that he would’ve been too scared if he stumbled into that mess, and she shook her head, “Not a hero. I know a few, and my goal is to one day be even... a fraction of who they are. Or were. But I’m just Sara - woman who runs into dangerous situations and deals with the fallout later.” Which was, generally speaking, true, whether she was in her leathers or not. Because even though she was well-trained, that didn’t stop her from getting injured, or from missions tanking, or from getting killed. Although she’d like to put off experiencing the latter again for a long time.

She was brought out of her thoughts by his phone ringing and, before she could tell him to take the call, he was already hanging up. He apologized, explaining it was a coworker, and she responded, “You should’ve just answered, I wouldn’t have been offended. ...Unless you need a little more time to regroup, which I totally understand, and I’m sure they will, too.” If he told them what happened. She, of all people, knew some experiences were just too hard to talk about. That sometimes you couldn’t even find the words. She’d been racking up her own since the Gambit went down, and the list grew as the years passed. She then shook her head again, gently insisting as she carefully began to clean one of his cuts, “You’re not bothering me. And as much as I love to tease, in case you hadn’t noticed, I don’t want anything. Thievery and good conversation are more than enough.” She punctuated that with a smirk before she continued working.

eloker

—* Kind. That’s the word that flashes through his head, and Eli’s not certain if it’s the aftershock trying to tangle it’s way out of his system, or just his permanent loser status, but he nearly sobs. Jesus Christ, how much more of a wet blanket can he be!? Trying to ground himself, he briefly and as quietly as he can clears his throat from the porcupine sensation in it, looks away to still himself. Starts doing inventory of what’s around in the wreck, compiling the sight into a list mentally.

“You can deny it all you want, but from where I'm standing? You’re pretty freaking heroic. No offense, but really, it’s just you who doesn’t see how true it is. It’s not about some kind of super strength or unique unreachable skills, you know…” Eli gulps, sighs. Glances at her without moving his head, or at least trying not to. Being mindful of letting her work on fixing up the stupid Humpty Dumpty man that he was. “It’s all about the decision to do good, help others without being asked, showing care to even a total stranger. I’ve always believed that, at least. And well, you’re helping me for some unknown reason, so it fits the bill.” He offers a weak smirk, one that barely reaches his eyes. “Thank you…” He mutters, quieter, looking away.

It’s been a while away from normal and he’s shaken up, he’ll admit it. That’s the only reason Eli is practically crumpling up for the gentle approach Sara has handed him. Maybe the teasing is meant to be a bit crueler, but compared to what Eli usually hears, this was barely a tickle.

“And hanging up wasn’t really out of politeness, if I were to be honest as I am prone to be. I just rather not have to deal with that,” Eli explains, focusing his sight back out, looking at the paramedics and the victims. He bites his lip for a second, holding back a hiss as Sara works through his cuts. “I’m telling you an awful lot. I shouldn’t be unloading and projecting this much.” A exhale through his nose, and he notes the ever slowly dissipating crowd is actually starting to dwindle down.

“So… how’s the weather we’re having, huh?” He asks, in half a joke, as lame as it was. “I heard there’s a storm coming.” He’s not really all that funny.

#birdonawiresara #i feel there's nothing i can do [superhero verse]#{ and again: I hope this is okay! }

huntresscaraquinn

Cara’s features darkened at his comment. Normally, she was good at keeping them neutral, at hiding how she truly felt. But everything was too fresh in her mind, all of the lives lost during this hunt... And she couldn’t talk to him about any of it. She couldn’t talk to anyone about any of it, a weight that got heavier and heavier to carry as the years passed and the jobs stacked up. As the number of lives lost stacked up - which didn’t even include the ones she’d taken with Analiese. Finally, she uttered, “It was just one of those days where... I was raised to put 110 percent into everything that I do, you know? The whole ‘if you’re not going to try your best, don’t try at all’ mindset. But that’s not reality. That’s not life. There are aspects of it that are out your control, and yet I still take it personally. I still run through things in my head over and over again, trying to see where I messed up. Where I failed. And even if I find answers - if I use that information in an attempt to do better in the future - the failure still haunts me.” She paused before adding, “Logically, I know tonight was out of my control. I couldn’t have changed the outcome. But I still feel like I failed so badly.” To put it mildly. “And I can’t let it go... I just, I can’t...” She shook her head, wrapping herself around her mug of tea in an attempt to warm a part of herself that couldn’t be reached.

Grateful to focus on Eli instead of herself, she carefully responded, “Why else would you stay?” She then nodded, “Of course, like I said, it seems the benefits outweigh the difficult boss. ...Unless they don’t?” She wasn’t trying to pry. If he didn’t want to have this conversation, she would drop it without question. But perhaps he, like Cara, wasn’t doing his job for obvious reasons. Maybe it wasn’t as simple as liking what he was doing more than he disliked his boss. Maybe it was more personal. Maybe he felt duty bound, which was something she understood all too well. Because she didn’t like being a hunter, she didn’t enjoy the job; she wished she didn’t know that the supernatural world even existed. No, she was a hunter because she made a promise to her family members, to all those who lost their lives because of her and Analiese. To all of the loved ones they left behind. She would fight for them, she would do this job until it killed her. And maybe Eli continued with his job for a similar reason, in that it wouldn’t allow him to ever quit, regardless of the circumstances.

eloker

—* Eli hadn’t really expected the woman to open up to him — even at his most charming, he couldn’t surefire get what he wanted to hear from even his targets. This, however, was a vulnerable moment and he was privy to it through pure trust on whatever kindhearted basis. That was a privilege, and sure, Eli’s little act of confessing more than he should probably assisted. Despite him being a stranger by any logical reasoning, he was given the opportunity to comfort and perhaps help. He smiles a little sorrowful smile, trying to show how careful and reassuring he is. The decision to react is instant, knowing he can meet her close to her ground.

“I can’t say I know exactly what you mean there, at least not as far as the scale of your supposed mistakes, Cara… but I know what it’s like to stay up all night no matter how exhausted you are and just run the same damn scene in your head. Sleep refusing you because of an error you want to fix even if you can’t. Thinking if you could turn back time, all you would do is avoid the delayed reactions and the missteps, fix everything and it’ll be a god damn Utopia,” The words leave Eli as he avoids looking at his current companion. Fingers tense on the mug, while the drink cools. He runs his tongue over his lips, closer to a nervous tic he developed than a conscious effort. “It doesn’t really get easier, does it? It’s just baggage that accumulates and you need to keep hauling it along. I humiliate myself on a near daily basis while trying to prove my usefulness, just to look like a fool. I can have all the diplomas in the world, familiarize myself with all the theory that could be useful, try to think as many steps ahead as possible… and I still mess it all up.”

He looks up at Cara finally, knowing he looks and sounds pathetic and it probably isn’t even as bad as her problems. Her problems that are so much more real than whatever the hell Eli keeps creating for himself because Eli might not be more than a dumb dog. He wishes he was good enough, maybe just a little bit more proud…

“I think, the thing is, that despite all that… you have to force yourself to find a way to forgive yourself. That’s what people say, right? That beating yourself up is no help at all, and just trying to do better is the only thing you can really do. It sucks.” It also doesn't help at all.

Eli clears his throat, the question being a big sore spot. He sighs, deciding he should at least give Cara the peace of knowing this. While it was pitiful and near perverse, it was the only way he would ever tell anyone the full truth.

“I could leave, if there was somewhere to go… Or well, I keep telling myself that. By the end of the day, no matter the punches or the insults that get thrown at me or how long gone the days when a simple praise would occasionally come my way, I think I’m a little… fucked in the head.” He taps his temple as if to emphasize, because his hands feel itchy with the pure discomfort. He doesn’t actually know where to put them, landing them on the edge of the table and pressing the pillows of his fingers into it. “I hate him, I really do. It’s just a little difficult to walk away for me when I feel like he dragged it out of me to try to be better and to stop the apathy. Gave me an actual reason to feel alive and not keep counting the days till I’m finally dead. He hooked me with my curiosity and handed me all of this without intending to.” He could tell her he might love the man equal parts to his loathing, but that’s too much. He cuts his speech short and frowns deeper. “I’m sorry, I’m being ridiculous. I need to get a grip.”

#huntresscaraquinn #feeling the pressure to start anew [horror verse]#{ apologies anyway and again for taking a bit to get this done + I hope it's okay! }

deerfests-deactivated20260113

Improvised 'Kuru' with Brendan Hines & Alex Dickson - FULL SCENE

#self .radical honesty #gifs /#long post /#{ I wanna come back but... }#{ I pretty much got carried away by a wave of business and now I fear nobody wants to write with me lol }

deerfests-deactivated20260113

He don't care for me, but he cares for me

#videos .evidence recording #queue .hours of footage #lightman + loker .consider me the young apprentice

OOC|| Swamped lately, might get to replies in a few days. No queue, because I do not have time to find accurate posts for it. However, one post is in the queue... but only one! Hope everyone is doing well.

#ooc .lattes and browsing

deathgasmic

love is stored in "i'm going to annoy the shit out of you" btw

#ism .white lies #queue .hours of footage

@ghxstfrxquxncies || planned starter

—* The coffee shop by work was usually more full of life, but today it seemed lacking in the clientele department. Eli managed to get his coffee much quicker than usual, and while he would and should head back to the office, it felt unfair that he’d do it so quick. Instead, he headed to the far end table of the cafe, sat down and sulked.

Getting out his phone, he noted the few notifications he got since morning, which was barely any at all… It was no surprise, his circle of friends was enclosing in on itself. So little of his friends wanted to hang out with him due to his Radical Honesty theory and far less when he decided to throw himself head first into impressing Lightman and doing better at work. All thanks to his own morals getting in the way, and maybe in part because he wanted to be paid fairly again. He was worth something, after all, right?

He put his phone down when he saw somebody loitering a bit too close to his table, and looked up for his eyes to be met with a woman. She seemed inclined to talk to him, but he was certain she wasn’t going to hit on him. She didn’t seem interested. No. Eli had this feeling in the pit of his stomach, as if reassuring him, that this wasn’t going to be anything easy to shake off.

“Hi.”

#ghxstfrxquxncies #why are you so perfect on the outside? [main verse]

birdonawiresara

“Nice to meet you, Eli,” Sara replied with a small smile, sitting down cross-legged in front of him. Time seemed to be what he needed at the moment. Time to process what had happened, time to deal with the immediate fallout, time to make what would normally seem like even the simplest of decisions. But she knew and understood that, in situations like this, there was no such thing as simple. That your brain lagged, that it took time to catch up. So she would not only give him that time, but make it clear that she was okay with giving him that time. And, obviously, if she started to see signs that he was in real danger, that would change; she’d have to quickly get him over to the paramedics. But for now, she waited for him to decide how he wanted to proceed with his leg.

Then he was agreeing with her in regards to it, taking the initiative and patting it down. She watched as he did, not seeing any signs of blood seeping through his pant leg - or, even worse, a bone sticking out. But something must’ve caught his attention, must’ve hurt, because he moved to further investigate his ankle. He pulled his sock down, and sure enough a bruise was forming. He also mentioned a slight scrape, but that it wasn’t a big deal, and she asked, “Does it need a bandage? And I can always sneak back and grab an ice pack - maybe even something to brace it with.” After that he was thanking her, and she lightly teased, “Just wait until you get my bill. ...Is it all right if I start cleaning up your cuts?”

eloker

—* She watched his hand move and he appreciated the genuine care, even the light joking. It was as if the situation was normalizing slowly. It felt better than if he made the rest of the trek to work, which if anything wasn’t even far. Eli glanced at the windows, other side of the street from where they no sat. Seeing as the office lights were down, but the structure seemed fine. Their floor untouched, no shadows in the frames that he could see. A gulp and he faced back to Sara, the anxiety having it’s seeds planted already.

“An ice pack might be nice, but I’ll be able to get that at work or home… So it’s okay.” Eli sighed, getting his mind in order with a long moment of closing his eyes. “I might not be able to cover that cost, you’re right.” He chuckled, or tried to, as if to play along. The reality persisted, he was demoted and not paid anyway. “Still, you’re heroic. I’d probably would’ve been too scared to do much if I stumbled into this mess.”

As if anything this wasn’t enough, his ringtone goes off and Eli takes his phone out of his pocket. Hangs up, seeing Torres’ name flash through his phone screen. He’ll apologize to Ria later.

“Sorry, that was my coworker.” He gives a forced smile to Sara, and tries to get everything in order. “You can, yeah. I don’t wanna bother you more than need be,” He says. “But if you think of any non-monetary way I can pay you back, let me know, though.”

#birdonawiresara #i feel there's nothing i can do [superhero verse]

huntresscaraquinn

Cara nodded, sheepishly admitting, “‘Like’ is an understatement.” She wasn’t one for downtime, but when she did take a few hours off every couple of months, she would sit down with a cuppa and a book from the bottom of her duffel bag - one of which was, of course, The Complete Works of John Keats. If her sister was around, she would no doubt tease her about it being a waste of space given how much of it she had memorized, but... She loved the feeling of a book in her hands. Loved seeing her notes in the margins - written in the same scrawling cursive as her father’s. Loved coming home to words that comforted her time and time again. So yes, ‘like’ did not begin to describe her relationship with poetry, Keats’ in particular. “...And I have a Bachelors degree in English Literature, actually. I’d intended on getting my Masters and my PhD but, as we discussed, things change.”

“Honestly?” Cara replied, with a huff of air and a shake of her head, “No, not really. I’m taking the jobs that no one else wants.” Which was the truth. No one in their right mind would become a hunter. You were either born into the job, or you were dragged into it, kicking and screaming. But either way, it wasn’t a job anyone did out of a desire to do it, and as for her bosses (if you could call them that), they were literal monsters. Then she was taking a sip of her tea as Eli thought over her question. She hadn’t intended to be rude, to ask about a possibly sore subject, and she was about to tell him he didn’t need to answer when he did, explaining that he used to be nicer. She carefully responded, “The job must mean a lot to you, then. The benefit of doing what you do - of helping people - must mean more than a difficult boss, and I respect that.”

eloker

—* There’s a light air to it when Cara speaks of Keats' work, and he can’t help but (to perhaps project, rather than) pick up a disappointment in the fact that things changed. Cara might have sought out more because she felt connected in the art of words. Meanwhile, Eli had a knack for music so he could relate to things not going how one wanted. He liked to play guitar, occasionally writing some tunes for it, and playing them for his dwindling circle of friends. Of course, he had no illusions of doing it for a crowd, despite him and a few buddies being in a band before. The closest he got was when he wrote that goofy song about white lies with a bunch of kids… all in the name to get them calm and busy while the rest of his colleagues resolved a bombing threat.

Either way, he also liked computers and that seemed safer… still, he strayed anyway.

“Whatever it is you do… it sounds rough,” Eli says, absently tapping on his coffee mug, his eyes still having a sting to them that seems to be getting worse. He would asks Cara to explain what she does, but so far it seemed she wasn’t interested on telling him and Eli was prone to respect that privacy. However, he could just about imagine work on the road. There’s got to be some looming threat to force somebody out of brief moments of comfort constantly when there's no guarantees. “I just hope you’re okay.”

The last part, though. That got him. Eli scratched an uncomfortable itch by his eye and sighed. “I guess it does, yeah.” All misguided loyalty and sense of guilt, more like it. He got himself into this mess because once he wanted it, now he just feels stuck. “Well, it could be worse.”

#huntresscaraquinn #feeling the pressure to start anew [horror verse]

wholeheartedsuggestions

*screams loudly in head but all that actually comes out is a little sigh*

#ism .white lies #queue .hours of footage

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