#I've never related to anything more than I relate to these

[ingravinoveritas]

GT is really trying to make the Baftas about her on her Ig huh

(Grouping together for ease of responding.)

I've seen several mentions/had folks talking to me in DM about Georgia's Insta stories earlier today. I'll put some screenshots here so we can discuss:

I feel like this all starts with yesterday, so let's quickly recap: Last night, David appeared on the One Show. Georgia came along and watched the show backstage, and posted an Insta story of him on the TV screen, in color. She posted nothing related to David and Valentine's Day, despite having made a post about him every year for the last several years. Today, she posted about BAFTA preparations. Two photos of David, both again in black-and-white, and two photos in color, one of which featured her calling a bag of skincare products "my valentine."

The first thing that comes to mind is the songs that are used on some of these stories. For three out of four, the songs are upbeat and happy, which seems to contrast starkly with the almost somber tone of these pictures. It reminds me of the song "I Am A Rock" by Simon & Garfunkel, where the music is cheerful and up tempo, yet the lyrics are much darker and full of pain/sadness. So if you're only looking at what's on the surface, it causes you to miss what is going on underneath.

It would also be very easy to overlook that these stories are all related to an awards show--that David is hosting for a second time, no less. Because there isn't really anything celebratory about any of these. Just looking at the captions/tags, Georgia seems to be showing more enthusiasm for receiving free skincare products than for anything else. And in both pictures of David, he is doing something else/just trying to exist while she photographs him. In the picture in the car, he seems to be looking at the National Theatre, and despite sitting next to her, it feels like he is about a million miles away--that same feeling of preoccupation/tiredness that we saw last night.

And then there's the last piece of these stories, which is that the photos of David are once again in black-and-white. I've said this previously, but we are now long past the point where the B&W makes sense for legal reasons or anything having to do with the show. Let's also look at what's happened over the last few weeks: The fan taking a picture with David in the airport, the photo of David behind the bar in a pub in Glasgow this week, and then the full-on hair reveal last night, all in color. Contrast that with the video of David dancing to Sabrina Carpenter, the WOS acceptance speech, and now these photos, all in black and white, and all taken/filmed by Georgia.

Looking at everything together, I think David never cared about hiding his hair, while Georgia and Anna knew/know the fans have wanted to see dyed hair, and have viewed their Instagrams as a source for pictures. So holding the promise and possibility of seeing that is a guaranteed way to keep getting clicks and drive engagement, especially given how many fans took screenshots and got excited every time Georgia or Anna added a new story. What became a joke at the fandom's expense has now backfired, and I truly don't think there was ever going to be a "big reveal" or that either of them intended to post a picture of the dyed hair in color.

To be clear, there is no part of me that takes joy in any of this, and I do not wish for either David or Georgia to be unhappy or miserable. But I can't dismiss the almost painful gut reaction I had to these Insta stories--how "off" the vibes are, and how this all seems to be about much more than just hair dye.

What will happen at the BAFTAs tomorrow is still anyone's guess--Michael is not listed as a special guest or as a presenter (though he did present an award last year, as I recall), so who knows if he will even be there--but I am honestly hoping that things will be okay. For everyone's sake...

[lovelytsunoda]

love is a losing game | Jake "Hangman" Seresin

PART I - Wonderwall

Summary: Detectives Jessica Statham and Jake Seresin are ready to tie the knot! Fast forward six years, and they're trying desperately to have a baby. Feeling the mounting pressure of his job, his mortgage and the rising cost of living, Jake's looking for an answer to all his problems. Enter his partner, Detective Bradley Bradshaw, who has an idea for a side gig that might not be entirely legal

Chapter Warnings: Mentions of fertility issues, depictions of a car accident and miscarriage. Mentions of mental health struggles. Jessie really wants to be a mother, Jake gets told he has a lower than average sperm count. Infidelity (NOT FROM JESSIE OR JAKE) Bradley is actually such a horrible person I’m so sorry but someone had to be the bad guy here. Intense violence.

Author's Note: Guys I feel like I'm back in my Wattpad era here! Anyone who regularly reads my shit knows I'm awful at continuing series (Rip to the Welcome to Wherever You Are Verse and the Radiator Springs series) but I've had Bosch on the brain lately and its giving me ideas like no other. I hammered out most of this chapter in like two hours.

Cop Terms Glossary: RHD (Robbery-Homicide Division), Vice (a division of the police department assigned to crimes related to gambling & prostitution)

Series Masterlist

June 2017

“Well, I’m beat. Anybody want a stiff drink?” Detective Tom Kazansky asked around as they filed out of the courtroom and down the hallway.

Since the Kelly Garrett trial had concluded for the day, Jessica had been strangely quiet, staring down at her phone almost as soon as she had left the courtroom.

“Yeah, why not.” Pete Mitchell relented, turning to look at his desk officer. “Jessie, you in?”

Her head snapped up from her cell phone, tendrils of cherry-red hair falling in front of her eyes. She had been working with the two detectives for just under two years. Kazansky was easygoing and the two had clicked fast, but Mitchell had taken her a lot longer to warm up to. He seemed to see conspiracies everywhere, but as much as she hated to admit it, he was usually right. She and Mitchell had an unusual bond, and it raised many eyebrows around the department.

Six months ago, in pursuit of both a ring of dirty cops who had murdered her patrol mentor, Javy Machado, as well as the killer of a pornography director, Jessica had been caught in the bloody crossfires of a daylight shooting on her day off. The bullet had grazed her leg, and put her out of commission for a week. Seeing that the wife of the dead man who shot her was currently on trial for murder, Mitchell and Kazansky thought she’d be a little more attentive.

“Actually,” she grinned, tapping her manicured nails against her phone case, giddy with excitement. “I have a date.”

Mitchell raised his eyebrows. “A date?”

“Yeah. He’s also a cop. He works patrol out of Franklin, near Thai Town. I met him when the trial first started.”

“I’ll be damned.” Tom grinned. “Who would have thought. Go on, don’t let us keep you. And don’t do anything we wouldn’t do.”

Jessie gave him a look as she turned to walk out the main courthouse doors. “Knowing you and Pete, that doesn’t stop me from doing much.”

Pete laughed. “She’s got us there, Tom.”

“Yeah, she does.”

Detective Pete Mitchell found it hard to believe that conversation had taken place just three years prior. He was ruminating over it as he pulled his Jeep into a parking space near the marina hall, taking in the balloons, partygoers and the chalkboard sign outside the entrance.

Welcome to the wedding of Jake Seresin and Jessica Statham.

“They grow up fast, don’t they?” Tom Kazansky wisecracked from the passenger seat. “She’s come a long way, as a person and as a cop.”

“I’ve never been prouder of someone I’ve mentored.” Pete agreed. “Come on, let’s get in there soon so we don’t have to sit at the back with the riff raff.”

Kazansky laughed. “The riff raff? You know its mostly cops in there, right?”

“They’re vice cops, Tom. Vice cops.”

The front hall of the building was deserted, a hair metal love ballad playing over the speaker as guests filed into the main room. To his right, Pete could see the bridal party gathering together. Jessie was in the middle, looking radiant in a simple white dress. Her hair was back its natural color, cascading in waves over her shoulders and back. Mickey Garcia, another RHD detective, was fiddling with her hair, attempting to straighten the ribbon holding it back from her face.

“Mickey, stop touching things! Natasha spent like two hours on this!”

Mickey and Jessie had come up through patrol together, alongside Javy Machado. They had gotten closer after Javy died, and Jessie continued to think of him as one of her best friends. He was always there to give her guidance, or listen to her rant about whatever rule Pete had broken that day.

“I thought you stopped listening to this stuff after the Ansel Howard appeal?” Pete remarked, approaching the group.

Jessie turned to face him, eyes lighting up. “Pete! You made it! And don’t talk about that disgusting man on my wedding day, please.” She resisted the urge to shudder thinking about the convicted felon who had leered at her in court and sent threatening letters to her house, or how his lawyer tried to tear her apart on the stand with her sealed juvenile record. “I’m glad you made it.”

Pete pulled her in for a hug, and had a vague sense that soon enough, he’d be watching his own daughter go through the same motions. “You might want to get Natasha to check your hair again. Make sure she can fix whatever Garcia has done to it.”

“It was crooked!” Mickey protested

Jessie giggled, pulling away from the detective. “I will. Hi, Tom. Thanks for coming.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” The other detective said, giving her a quick hug. “I hope we’re not too late.”

Jessie shook her head. “Just in time, actually.”

The detectives filed out the door, settling in at the wide end of the dock, where white wooden chairs with large ribbons on the backs had been set up. Ron Kerner, the chief desk officer out of Hollywood station, had saved the pair seats.

Back in the marina hall, Jessie was vibrating with excitement as the bridesmaids and groomsmen lined up to make their entrance. Jake Seresin was standing at the front with his mother, and Natasha had dramatically covered his eyes with a sleeping mask as everyone fell into their practiced positions. Jessie’s dad linked his arm with hers as Natasha passed her the bouquet of wildflowers.

“I’m so happy for you, Jessie.” Natasha gushed. “Don’t think about anything else out there. Just you and Jake.”

“Thank you, Nat. I’m ready to start whenever you guys are.”

The music started up, something neutral and cheery, as the groom and his mother, followed by the paired off bridesmaids and groomsmen (or, in Mickey’s case, Mickey and one of Jake's groomsmen striding down the dock like football players taking to the field at the Super Bowl). Jessie watched from the doorway, a wide smile on her face and feeling of elation in her stomach that was quickly weighed down by nerves.

Her dad squeezed her arm, looking down at her. “You’ve got this, kiddo.”

The music changed one final time, a soft new wave song from the mid-nineties. Jessie took a deep breath, tightened her hold on the bouquet, and began to walk down the pier. It was a beautiful day outside, sunlight reflecting off the blue water of the Marina del Rey. But all of that paled in comparison to the sight of her husband to be standing at the altar.

Jake Seresin took her breath away in his tight black suit, white carnations pinned to his lapel. His usually messy hair was moderately tamed, and Jessie had no doubt that he would smell like hair gel when she stood across from him. Goosebumps rose on her skin from the breeze, but she didn’t feel cold.

No, she felt warmth blossom through her chest when she saw Jake see her in her dress for the first time. His face went pink with emotion, tears pricking at his eyes.

Please don’t cry, she thought. If you cry, so will I, and then my mascara will run and the pictures will be ruined.

Her walk down the aisle seemed to both take too long and not long enough as she passed Natasha her bouquet, moving to stand in front of JaKe. One of his calloused hands came out to hold hers, rubbing reassuring circles on her palm.

“You look beautiful.” He choked out, tearing up. “I love you so much.”

She beamed at him, trying to keep her own emotions in check. “I love you too, Jacob Arthur Seresin.”

Behind them, the officiant cleared his throat. “It’s a little too soon for the vows, kids. I do have a speech to get through, you know.”

The couple laughed, refusing the let go of their held hands. The officiant began his speech, and Jessie took a peek out at the crowd. The seats were full, and she was floored that so many people had cared enough about her to come and watch her marry the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with.

“Now, I know you guys are both cops, and there are default vows that cops usually say at these things,” the officiant started “but I do believe the bride and groom have written their own vows.”

From that moment forward, Jessie tattooed Jake’s vows to the inside of her brain. His vows to protect her, to love her, to always have her back, to cherish her. To be her safe haven when the world became too much.

And seven years later, when he walked out of their house in handcuffs, there was another promise he made that she couldn’t help but repeat like a mantra.

To never let her become a single mother.

Four years later

Jessie’s aging Volkswagen Golf waited in the intersection, blinker on with the expectation that traffic would cool enough for her to take the left hand turn that would set her and Jake back on their way to Los Angeles. They had spent the weekend in Pasadena with her parents, as well as her cousins and their kids.

She would be hesitant to admit it out loud, but seeing Jake interact with her nieces and nephews lit a fire inside her that she never knew was there. He was so good with kids, and she couldn’t help but wonder how he would act with a kid of his own. She knew in her gut that she would be such a good father.

“Will’s daughter is adorable.” Jake remarked, his hand trailing to Jessie’s jean-clad thigh. The radio hummed softly in the background, playing an old Huey Lewis song that they had danced to at their wedding. “Did you see the way she followed your sister around the kitchen, waving that wooden spoon about.”

Jessie snorted, tapping her fingernails against the steering wheel. “I thought she was going to take her brother’s eye out with that thing.”

The light changed from green to yellow. Seeing a gap in traffic, Jessie took her foot off the brake and completed her turn. Or at least, she tried to. There was a sickening crash as another vehicle cut in front of her, taking off the front end of her hood. The seatbelt dug into her stomach as the car spun around, her forehead snapping against the steering wheel right before the airbags engaged.

“Jessica!” Jake shouted after the car had stopped, straining around his seatbelt and the airbag dust to get a glimpse of his wife. “Jessica!” He fumbled with the car door, slicing through his seatbelt with the Swiss Army Knife in his jeans pocket.

He ran around the back of the car, ignoring the other driver who was cursing a storm at him over the wreckage of his Tesla. Jake clawed at the door, desperate to get to his wife. “Jess.” He said firmly, sawing at her seatbelt. She was groggy, but awake. She seemed unharmed, but Kevin wouldn’t know until he got her out of there.

“Jake?” She murmured, reaching for the collar of his flannel shirt.

“I’m right here, baby. Right here.”

With a sharp tug, he pulled her out of the driver’s seat, setting her down on the road. The Tesla driver was still shouting, screaming about how he was going to call the cops.

“You just hit two cops, you self-righteous son of a bitch!” Jake cried, fumbling for his badge. “Detective Jake Seresin, Hollywood Vice. Now I need you to call my wife a goddamn ambulance!”

Jessie’s jeans were soaked with blood, and there was a cut running down the side of her head where she was hit with broken glass from her rearview mirror.

“Sweetheart, you’re bleeding real bad. Are you hurt?”

Jessie shook her head, trying hard to keep her eyes open.  “Just my head, I think. And my stomach. But it feels more like a cramp.”

“Just keep holding my hand, baby. I’m calling it in.” Kevin tried to stay levelheaded. There were a whole manner of injuries Jessie could have that weren’t visible. Internal bleeding, broken bones. His fingers stained his screen protector with blood as he dialed the 911 circuit board. “This is Detective Jake Seresin, my wife, Detective Jessica Seresin and I were just in a car accident in Pasadena, at the intersection near Robinson Stadium. We need an ambulance and two patrol units.”

The next few hours felt like an incoherent blur. Jake was largely fine aside from some bruising on his ribs from the airbags. Jessie’s condition was more complex, and Jake was worrying himself sick as he paced up and down the hospital waiting room, hoping that when the doctor came out, it would be with good news. He breathed a sigh of relief when he was finally allowed into the room to see her. The only other time they had been to the emergency room together was when Jessie had her heart episode, right in the middle of one of the LAPD’s most high-profile cases. Considering she had worked that case with Pete Mitchell, it was no surprise that it had driven her to a near heart attack.

He sat next to her hospital bed, taking her hand in his. There was a red mark on her hand where her wedding ring had been, now sitting on the nightstand next to her. Jessie was awake, and mostly alert. There was a bandage on the side of her head, but other than that, she seemed to be fine.

“Jake, you’re okay.” Jessie breathed, squeezing his hand. “I was worried about you.”

“I was worried about you, Jess. That was a lot of blood.”

“The doctor should be in in a moment.” The nurse standing next to Jessie’s bed gave the couple a tired smile as she finished adjusting Jessie’s IVs.

Shortly after the nurse had left, a broad-shouldered doctor came into the room, brandishing a clipboard. He cleared his throat before introducing himself to Jake. “Well, the good news is that you both are fine. All wounds were minor, but you both should be on the lookout for any delayed symptoms, especially those associated with whiplash.” The doctor paused. “Now for the bad news. Your baby didn’t make it.”

Jake sat up straighter. He felt Jessie’s hand tighten around his as she weakly gasped out “what baby?”

The doctor’s eyes widened. “Did you not know? Mrs. Seresin, you were nine weeks pregnant.”

Jessie froze in place, before letting out a choked wail. “No. No, no, no…”

“Oh, Jessica.” Jake sighed, feeling his heart shatter “I’m so sorry.”

“I didn’t know. I swear to God I didn’t know.” She sobbed, leaning against her husband for support.

“I know, honey. I know. I’ve got you.”

The months that followed were rough on both parties. Jessie withdrew from Jake, burying herself in her work. Jake started drinking, staying out later with his colleagues. He hated that Jessica was in so much pain and that there wasn’t anything he could do about it. At the same time, he was grieving what could have been. He didn’t realize just how badly he wanted to be a father until the universe ripped that opportunity from him.

It all came to a head when he came home from work and found Jessica sobbing on the kitchen floor, practically catatonic. She had required inpatient psychiatric care after that, at a facility in Santa Clarita. It wasn’t an easy decision for Jake to make, and he worried what the people around him would think, would say behind his back. But he didn’t know what else to do.

The day he dropped Jessica off at the facility, he drove back home in silence. Every song that came on in his Dodge Charger reminded him of her. When he got home, he sat on their living room couch and cried his eyes out. He slept in the guest bedroom for weeks afterwards.

So, when she approached him seven months after she came home from Santa Clarita and told him she wanted to start trying for another baby, he was hesitant. He couldn’t see her put herself through that cycle of guilt and shame again.

“Jessica, are you sure this is something you want?”

They were sitting on the patio together, her legs thrown over his. He had a beer in his hand, and she had an old-fashioned glass bottle of cream soda. She did look better. Her skin was a healthy color, and she had put on enough weight that she looked healthy. She was eating better, staying hydrated. She was almost back to being the woman that Jake had married.

Almost. There was something stirring behind her eyes, just below the surface.

“Jake, I’m better now. I’m medicated, I’m emotionally stable. I know you feel like the bad guy for sending me, but the psych ward did wonders for me.”

Jake winced. “I wish you wouldn’t call it that.”

“Why? That’s what it was. An inpatient mental health facility.”

“Psych ward just sounds so…rough. It was more like high-class rehab for people with mental health issues.”

“Jake, look at me.” She said sternly, resting a hand on his chest. “I want this. But more than that, I want this with you. Nobody else.”

Later that night, after a tender night spent pressed up against each other underneath cotton sheets, they lay next to each other in bed. Jessica had her legs up the wall, like the fertility websites she had spent the week reading had told her to do. Jake lay the opposite way, their faces meeting in the middle of the bed. She was mindlessly tracing shapes against his hairy chest, lost in thought.

“You’re going to be a phenomenal mother.” Jake said sincerely, taking her hand in his. “And this baby is going to be so loved.”

She met his gaze. “You really think we can do it?”

“I know we can. There’s nobody else I would want to bring a child into the world with but you, Jessica.”

Getting pregnant wasn’t easy either. Before long, it became a routine of ovulation calendars and fertility vitamins, as well as routine pregnancy tests. Five months of this routine went by before Jake brought up the elephant in the room and suggested they see a doctor, knowing full well that the LAPD’s insurance coverage didn’t apply to specialist doctors. Especially ones that dealt with fertility issues.

Jessica thought that it was her fault. That something had happened to her womb in the accident that would make it impossible for her to bear children. Four tests and three doctor’s appointments later, it turned out that she wasn’t the problem.

Jake was.

He blinked at the doctor, hand tightening around his wife’s. “I’m sorry, what? I’m not following.”

The doctor smiled sadly at him before reading the results again. “I’m afraid you have a low sperm count, Mr. Seresin. This could be why you’ve been having problems. Its not dangerously low in the sense that you wouldn’t be able to father a child, but it is low enough to be cause for concern. I understand you were able to conceive once before, and I see no reason that you wouldn’t be able to again. You just need a gentle nudge in the right direction.”

Two weeks later, he was still thinking about that conversation. It permeated every waking moment, including the mind-numbing hours spent in the passenger seat of Detective Bradley Bradshaw's battered Ford Edge, watching a laundromat that they knew was operating an illegal casino out of their upper floors.

What kind of man was he if he couldn’t give his wife a baby?

“Kid, how much money have you already spent on this?” Bradley stared at him from behind his aviator sunglasses. “Maybe it’s just not meant to be.”

“Its not covered by insurance,” Jake continued, picking at the band of his watch. “And we are thousands of dollars in outstanding invoices. I haven’t told Jessie. How can I? She’d make us stop going, and that would destroy her. She really wants this, Bradley.”

Bradley frowned, popping a cashew into his mouth. “How do you feel about moonlighting?”

Jake scoffed. “What, rent-a-cop private security gigs? Come on, man. I’m a goddamn detective. I don’t need to be doing all that.”

“And yet even on the salary of two second-tier detectives, you can’t afford your own medical bills.” Bradley pointed out. “Just come with me tonight, I’ll pick you up. Jessica doesn’t need to know about it.”

Jake had a bad feeling in his gut that this job wouldn’t be entirely legal. At the same time, he didn’t think he was in any position to be turning down paying work. That night, when he came home from work, Jessica was in the kitchen, lights dimmed low and Amy Winehouse playing from the stereo. She was still dressed in her blazer from work, hips swaying as she stirred the pan on the stove.

“God, baby, that smells incredible. What are you making.”

“Pasta with lamb sauce.” Jessie replied, not looking up from the pan. “Hey, I got you something. Can you open the white envelope I left on your plate?”

Jake left his leather jacket and boots in the front hallway, washing his hands in the kitchen sink before he kissed his wife on the side of the head and moved to open the envelope. He had half slid the contents out of the envelope when his heart slipped a beat.

“Jessica, are you really?”

Jessie switched off the stove, turning to gave her husband with a broad smile on her face. “We did it, Jake. I’m pregnant.”

“Oh my God!” Jake broke into a smile, pulling the ultrasound picture the rest of the way out of the envelope. He thought he was going to tear up looking at the little image, his beautiful baby. “Come here.”

“Jake Seresin, are you crying?” She giggled, wrapping her arms around her husbands waist before leaning up to kiss him.

“Of course I’m fucking crying! We’re going to be parents! I’m so happy right now, honey.”

Laughing with glee, Jake leaned down to kiss his wife. Everything had been worth it. Even though he knew he was running out of time to pay off those invoices before the debt collectors showed up.

Even though he knew babies were expensive, and their expenses would soon start piling up.

Nothing else mattered, because he was going to be a father, and there was nothing Jake Seresin wouldn’t do to protect his family.

Bradley picked him up at eight that night. It was dark outside, the road ahead lit only by the detectives headlights. Bradley never said where they were going or what they were doing, and had shut down all of Jake’s attempts at conversation. The neighborhoods they were driving through were getting richer and richer, and that bad feeling Jake’s stomach continued to grow.

They didn’t park near the house, instead leaving the Ford one block away. Confused, Jake followed Bradley, taking long strides to try and keep up. Something felt off. If their work was above board, why did they park so far away, and why were they sneaking around late at night in Beverly Hills?

He watched as Bradley knocked on the door, the two detectives standing side by side on the large doorstep. As soon as the door opened, Bradley lashed out with a yell, punching the homeowner on the other side in the nose.

“Dude, what the fuck!” Jake shouted, following his partner into the entryway. “What is going on here?”

“Shut up.” Bradley snapped back, digging his phone out of his pocket. He crouched next to the bloodied homeowner, showing him something on his phone. Jake crept closer, trying to get a glimpse of the screen. Playing out on Bradley’s phone, the man in front of them was actively engaging in a threesome with two tall blondes. Given the angle of the recording, he didn’t know it was being filmed

Bradley looked towards one of the pictures in the front hall, showing that same man posing with a stunning Indian woman and their two children.

“I bet your wife and kids wouldn’t be too pleased to know that when you go out of town for a business trip, you’re actually going down to Hollywood to pay to get your dick sucked.”

the man was cowering on the floor, blood dripping onto the tile. “What do you want from me?” He shouted at Bradley.

Jake felt sick and started slowly backing away to the door. This was a side of Bradley he’s never seen before. One that sickened him. Yet somehow, he knew it had to have always been there. There was a reason Hollywoods vice cops had the highest corruption rates.

He just never thought he’d be adding to that statistic.

“Give me twenty grand, and the video gets deleted. Half of the money goes to me, the other half to my friend here.” Bradshaw nodded his head in Jake’s direction. “All cash, totally untraceable. We take gold too. Maybe a Rolex or two if you’ve got them lying around.”

“Man, enough.” Jake insisted. “Come on, let’s just go.”

Bradley glared at him. “Do you want to be able to pay your mortgage or not.”

“No. Not like this.”

“Well,” Bradley started, getting to his feet and kicking the unnamed man in the stomach. “You no longer have a choice.”

They left the house shrouded in an awkward silence. Jake’s hands were shaking, hidden in the pockets of his leather jacket. So many questions were running through his mind as they walked back to Bradley’s car.

“Man, I know it looked rough,” Bradley started “but we’re not doing anything wrong. That man is richer than god, and if he’s gonna cheat on his wife, we might as well get something out of it.”

“You literally beat him until he agreed to give you money, and then made me an accomplice!” Jake hissed. “I just found out my wife is pregnant, I can’t be running around doing shit like this!”

“And if you don’t want to watch your kid grow up from behind bars, you’re going to do exactly as I say.” Bradley huffed, shoving Jake backwards. “From now on, I own you.”

Jessie was asleep on the couch when Jake got home, a paperback book still clutched in her hands. He tried to be quiet as he came in through the front hall, but she stirred anyways.

“Jake,” she smiled. “You’re back. How’s Bradley?”

Jake shrugged. He didn’t want to lie to Jessie, but he was so ashamed of what he had seen that he couldn’t tell her the truth either. “He’s alright. Not much new there, I see him every day. How are you doing? You look exhausted.”

Jessie laughed, pulling the blanket she was wrapped in tighter around her shoulders. “I feel exhausted.”

“You’re doing everything for two now, sweetheart. It’s okay to take some time to rest.” Jake soothed, kissing her forehead gently. “Come on, let’s go to bed.”

“I love you, Jake Seresin.”

“I love you more, Jessica Seresin.”

Jake Seresin would do whatever it took to keep Jessie safe.

Whatever. It. Took.

Even if it meant being at Bradley Bradshaws beck and call.

[pinestripe37]

I've thought about this in the past, and I'm gonna finally put my views into words. :)

First off, there is absolutely nothing wrong with living a single and celibate life! It can be a beautiful calling for those who are called and empowered to walk in it! Marriage is beautiful and a blessing, but it's not a requirement. And I also believe that for all of us, the most important Romance we'll ever have.. is with Jesus. ❤️

I just read 1 Corinthians 7, very very helpful chapter that I definitely recommend reading and praying about.

Paul said that "each one has his own gift from God, one in this manner (a single and celibate life) and another in that (a married life)." I love and find it beautiful how in this Verse (vs. 7) he points out that both paths are a gift from God and a blessing!

Paul also goes on to point out the benefits of living single and celibate (he does give a disclaimer, I think about this, that these are his opinions and suggestions- not commands from the Lord, but still Godly advice because the Holy Spirit is with him. :)

"There is a difference between a wife and a virgin. The unmarried woman cares about the things of the Lord, that she may be holy both in body and in spirit. But she who is married cares about the things of the world—how she may please her husband. And this I say for your own profit, not that I may put a leash on you, but for what is proper, and that you may serve the Lord without distraction." ... "But she is happier if she remains as she is (single; this verse is referring to a widow), according to my judgment—and I think I also have the Spirit of God."

One blessing about not being interested in romance is that not only does it give a person more time to focus on friendships, but also on cultivating their walk with the Lord, and on serving Him! That's a very good thing! (Not that romance or marriage is a bad thing- Paul points out in the same chapter it's not wrong to get married; and couples serving the Lord together in love is such a beautiful thing!)

So there's absolutely nothing wrong with not having sexual or romantic feelings/desires/relationships/experiences- on the contrary, it can be a gift and a beautiful and Godly path full of honor.

I personally am not too comfortable with the *labels* though; and I think that I myself would never use them.

Part of it is that I sort of just don't get the point of labels for such things to begin with? 😅 I don't see the usefulness of it. Like, it's not really harder to say something like "I've never experienced romantic feelings for anyone/I'm single/I believe I'm called to celibacy" and it would be more accurate than just.. using a label. I also don't wanna risk *identifying* too much with a label or idolizing it, so I'd just rather not use one to begin with. In my opinion it saves a lot of trouble to just.. not use such labels at all.

The identity thing is a pretty big part of it for me- such things should never be our core identity and in this culture they often end up becoming just that. My identity is in Christ, it's beautiful and fulfilling and complete, so it's important to remember that extra labels add nothing to who I am.

A big part of it is, like Julia said, that I don't feel comfortable being associated with the lgbtq community, NOT because I have anything against the people because I promise I love the people <3 I know many of them and love them dearly. but because the community as a whole supports things that I don't condone (such as sexual activity in contexts other than the bond between husband and wife) so while there's nothing wrong with being single and not having romantic feelings or relationships, I feel uncomfortable associating that experience or being associated with other things that I do believe are sinful. And I don't want to be associated or identify with a community that I don't relate to. I'd much rather be associated with my position in the Church as a bride of Christ, and with my true identity in Him.

And I think another part of it is that the label thing feels kind of a bit too "me" focused? (Really I think today's culture is just really wrapped up on self. Thinking about this, even like the topic of identity in general- identity is thought of as something centered on a person's self and only themselves, while True Identity is found in a person's relationship with Christ and is established by God! As Christians our identity revolves around God, not ourselves, for He's our Creator.)

Just.. reading the way Apostle Paul talks about these topics, versus how modern society does, feels.. different. And Paul's way is a lot wiser. I feel it's a lot more focused on God and His Kingdom and His Plans.

Like, I would definitely not see choosing to remain single as a "sexuality," and I also think it has less to do with "who/how I am as a person", and a lot more to do with God's Plans for my future.

Like, the question I would ask/wonder about wouldn't be whether I'm "straight" or "asexual" but rather.. does God have a husband for me in my future, or does He plan something completely different for me?

And it's not written in stone either. Like, we shouldn't feel like if we were to meet a man we love, who loves us and loves the Lord and we want to serve God together with him, we don't need to feel like we *can't* marry him. We may embrace one gift and then be blessed with another and that's okay because only God knows the Plans He has for us.

I hope this all makes sense and is worded in a thoughtful and respectful way, and I really hope I've said what God wanted me to express the way He calls me to express it. ❤️

I myself haven't experienced romance and think I may possibly be called to a single and celibate life. I wouldn't identify as aro/ace, but I would happily serve God as a single woman if that is His Plan. :)

Christians of tumblr! What are your thoughts & opinions on asexual/aromantic labels? And/or your thoughts on what being asexual or aromantic Means (e.g. not feeling any romantic feelings towards anyone / not feeling sexual desires towards anyone) and how you view that in light of your faith? Reblog or reply with your thoughts if you’d like!

This topic sprung into my mind recently and I’m really really curious to see what the Christians in my phone have to say about it!

[sea-of-machines]

insane drip

[beatx-mavie-archangelx]

"pronouncing 'Þerindë' as 'Serindë' is not that big of a deal" just say you've always been called right your whole life.

[feroluce]

Boothill doesn't pull his hair back very often. Dan Heng can count the times he's seen him do it on one hand. The man's right eye is gone completely but his left is a cybernetic, and it means Boothill can "see" whether his hair is in his face or not, so there's simply never much need for it.

So it surprises him when Boothill asks if he can put his hair up for him Xianzhou-style.

"Do you even own a hairpin?"

"Ya got chopsticks around here, don't ya?"

Which is how they end up awkwardly sat on the floor of the archives, Boothill sitting criss-cross and Dan Heng knelt behind him to make up for the differences in their height. Boothill doesn't say why he wants this done, but Dan Heng can guess: long life species are rarely allowed to leave the Xianzhou ships. It's not as rare as running into an actual, real-life Galaxy Ranger, but it's still pretty uncommon. Boothill is just trying to indulge his curiosity about little cultural things like this while he's able. Dan Heng can never say no to that kind of curiosity.

When his own hair was long, he never put it up. But there are memories, just little bits of things that nip at Dan Heng's ankles in the night when he's alone in the dark. And he remembers something like this, something similar. Dan Feng's hands with a hairpin, long hair grayed with age flowing in rivers between his fingers, quick and easy practiced motions revealing ears and nape and soot from the forge.

Boothill hands him a chopstick when he asks for it, because Dan Heng finds he needs both hands to keep his hair in place. He's not quick enough the first time, and the bun unravels, and the second attempt is better but it's messy and held so loosely that he goes at it for a third.

Boothill doesn't comment on it. Instead he just sits there and admires the picture of it that Dan Heng shows him on his phone, chatters a bit about what he knows of Xianzhou culture, how he'd met a Foxian woman not too long before Penacony with elaborate decorations done up in her hair and he'd wondered how anyone could even do that. A hairpin maybe would have been easier, but really the chopsticks probably fit him better, pretty little things like that don't suit me, anyhow.

Dan Heng catches like. Half of it. He's too busy staring at his hands.

Dan Feng had been good at doing other people's hair for them. He'd had a lot of practice. Dan Heng had seen it. But in the molting rebirth, his body had reset. The simple knowledge could be inherited. The experience could not.

That skill, that muscle memory, belongs to Dan Feng, and to Dan Feng only.

There is no mourning, no sense of loss with this realization, just relief. An extra confirmation of something he had already known.

But Dan Heng looks up at Boothill, who is running his curious fingers over the back of his own head, and he thinks about how there are some things he can have just for himself, too.

[sysig]

Go play pretend on your own (Patreon)

[californiaquail]

anyone else feeling fundamentally incapable of adjusting to society. also just discovered there's a 30 tag limit which i can't believe i've never hit before

[selfinflictedgunshotwound]

men are so disappointing in so many ways i know i shouldn't expect most of them to be dignified humans but it's crazy. i need to get over this guy he's making my sense of self crumble even faster than it usually does. like he's just so unlike my usual type and i'm pretty convinced he's stupid and slutty and not discerning whatsoever. not to mention boring like i know even if i did have a chance with him he wouldn't Get Me at all so it's a bigger waste of time that usual and i'm actually pretty tired of men in general and definitely tired of parasocial relationships because they drive me insane for months typically. thankfully it's only been like 2 weeks if that at this point. idk. sigh. i know literally virtually nothing abt him as a person and ofc liking any public figure who you know nothing about is only setting yourself for heartbreak and disappointment to begin with bc you already know nothing is gonna come from it but. in a way it's almost addictive to become obsessed with someone and not be looked at with the same level of scrutiny. i don't think anyone in real life would ever try to get to know me as much as i try to get to know people who i'll never even meet. lmao! but that's the thing... idk... i have a lot of love in my heart and it consumes me and i reject my pride usually when i'm into someone. i want to know more... like VORACIOUSLY consuming anything with information about them involved simply because i think knowing someone is a very deep form of love but of course you can never truly know anyone. not completely. and that scares me i think which is why it's always probably been easier for me to never really TRY to be with anyone or have anything real. idk. this turned into me psychoanalyzing myself real quick but SOMEONE needs to bc i need to understand what the fuck is wrong w me.

[friday-answers]

the thing about me that i will say though, is that... i've never really thought about my pronouns, nor my gender really, i've just went with what i was referred to as i grew up because it never felt wrong at all, and it still doesn't.

but, with creating universe friday and being this anonymous... blob who could be anyone, look like anyone, sound like anyone, being referred to as the 'creator' and with they/them pronouns...

made me realise in a really weird way that i kinda fuck with that. but not entirely they/them pronouns on me, myself (at least not in a way i would push to be referred to as) but when people don't know me.

when people hear my name or a description of me and automatically call me by a 'gendered' pronoun i kind of hate it. not repulsed by it, but in a way that i almost want to be truly anonymous to anyone before they've met me. or even until i'm a lil closer to them. like i wanna be referred to as 'they' in the way you say, "who are they?" when you ask about someone who's gender you know nothing of. anonymity.

idk. there's just something that just feels so right about not being known and being allowed to pretty much have no gender or appearance. i fear this blog is teaching me more about myself than i ever would've expected Erm...

but also i feel like this happens every time the weather gets colder. does seasonal gender exist??? it does now. i just decided.

[the-ghost-of-a-cyber-princess]

madam montalogera, an eccentric milfy goliath who runs her own cosmetics/fashion company (nevata: finery and maquillage)

[gu6chan]

Just realised

February 2022 - Drakengard 1.3

February 2023 - Drakengard "Magnitude Negative"

February 2024 -

I'm free :')

[sherlock-is-ace]

.

[running-in-the-dark]

and it just occurred to me that when we move, I might try to find a new therapist. there might be one/a few right in the town we're moving to (I haven't checked), but we'll be really close to a city then. so I could get there regularly (maybe. it's very scary but maybe I can manage it). so. I should probably do that? maybe find someone who'll like.... do more than just accept that I've got social anxiety (because that's what I said when I first saw my previous therapist) and help me figure out the real problem.

[victorluvsalice]

Valicer Calendar Finale: OTP To OT3

Happy New Year's Eve, everyone! It's time to talk about the final date on the Valice (r) Calendar post I made to celebrate 15 years of shipping my Valice OTP, and two years of shipping the Valicer OT3! So what's the significance of New Year's Eve to my OTP/OT3?

Well, it's basically the date I feel like my OTP became an OT3. XD This is basically how it all went down at the end of 2021, when I first learned about The Smiler coaster:

December 26th: I watch "One Night In Alton Towers" with my parents (a show where comedians Josh Widdicombe and Alex Brooker, accompanied by a guest comedian -- in this case it was Roisin Conaty -- spend the night at whatever UK attraction happens to be in the title) and see the fabled theme park in action for the first time. The show itself does NOT contain the group going on The Smiler (I believe the entrance is shown briefly in a montage, but the X-Sector ride they actually hit is Oblivion), but my family and I are intrigued and start looking up videos showing what riding the coaster feels like. Along the way, we discover The Smiler, and while we don't watch a video on it...

December 27th: I am sufficiently intrigued that the next day, my birthday, I start looking up stuff about it in earnest.

I quickly discover that the "brainwashing machine designed to make people permanently happy" theme is, uh, "relevant to my interests." XD Cue me going on a binge on YouTube and tumblr looking up the coaster, its history, its lore, and it's fandom, and getting pretty well obsessed. XD

December 28th: New coaster obsession continues, and I get the idea that I could use it in one of my private little snippets about Victor and Alice having a hypnokinky relationship. After all, I'm pretty sure Victor would like to be brainwashed to be happy, the poor anxious noodle! I start coming up with various scenarios in my head regarding Victor and Alice visiting the park and riding the coaster and using the theming to have some more saucy fun later to add to one of my private docs later, which get gradually more complicated as I look up more and more stuff...

December 29th: And by the very next fucking day, a certain anxious noodle has come up with his own AU within my AU where the coaster has an AI behind it and he and Alice are in a relationship with it. Specifically it's him doing art of that scenario in my AU where, you know, the coaster is just A FUCKING COASTER. I'm like, "excuse me, I'm trying to write down this completely normal scenario where you and Alice just have fun with the coaster theme! What is this bullshit where you want to fuck the roller coaster?"

He is unrepentant.

December 30th: "...would you like me to make the coaster human, because it occurs to me I could do that in Sims 4."

Victor: "I would not object."

December 31st: I've already come up with three different Smilers for three different AUs (the original Modern AU, the VTMB Malkavian!Smiler, and the FO4 Robot/Eldritch Horror!Smiler) and wondering how I completely lost it so freaking fast. XD

Sooo -- yeah. That was the point where I knew this was going to be a Thing. XD (And I hadn't even come up with Smiler's actual human design yet! That was nine days later!) Two years in, and it is still a Thing, as you are all very much aware. XD Here's to my bizarre Things, and the ships that were created from them! I hope to get much enjoyment from them for years to come.

[angelsdean]

in other news. i've been thinking abt dying my hair