#but i love the little guys. they're just doing their job!

[lunar-renegade]

you guys didn't ask but im telling you anyway while i work on the ashen wolves. Design Notes on the Black Eagles!

EDELGARD is uh. definitely the one i departed from canon the hardest on. sorry girlie but while your short-shorts and cropped jacket are adorable, they're Insanely Modern.

now she wears a scarlet chemise (a linen undergarment, basically a huge shirt) under slashed and buttoned sleeves, deliberately evoking italian fashions. her tabbed doublet is referenced from my mom's patterns of fashion books! big pants are a show of wealth (look at all this fabric we can afford!) the cloak fastens with that classic adrestian Thang that most of the noble characters wear, and her little hat is... well, it's a little hat. lined with fur. warm head!

as to her hair, i curled it because curls were Extremely in fashion in italy in the time period i'm aiming at. her little circlet is actually just a pared-down version of her horned crown!

HUBERT wears the slashed and buttoned sleeves too, over a white chemise. the sash and gold cord/tassel thing at his waist are referenced from one of his cipher cards and his heroes appearance! the red sash is on his other shoulder in that, but i integrated it with his baldric (sword holder) for cohesion's sake. i call his cloak his "evil wizard cloak" :3

i also curled his hair more lol. love him

FERDINAND deliberately evokes both hubert and edelgard's designs. he could do EITHER of their jobs, thanks! he has hubert's sash and edelgard's ruffles. i gave him a coat instead of a cape because i figure he prioritizes easy movement!

LINHARDT is changed very little lol. i took away his capelet because i couldn't figure out how to integrate it with his doublet, gave him a little book with the crest of cethleann, and lengthened the back of his hair so he's not got a bob/ponytail hybrid anymore, just the bangs.

the first four of the black eagles are done so i can Finally begin posting them..... Part One (of part one) of my Great FE3H Redesign project..... the lord, retainer, rival, and healer of the black eagle house (academy phase)!

goal of this redesign is to give a more coherently renaissance look to the cast, setting them roughly in the 15-1600's. fe3h is set in the 12thc of fódlan, but their government and culture is far closer to the renaissance. exciting!!

[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.

[unworldlycreature]

Hmm, anyways I'd love actually if White Man Obsession would pause for a bit for other things of equal if not more quality and worth.

...in other words, Dropout if you're out there please bring Aabria back to the dome?

[skyloftian-nutcase]

I want to write some stuff for this but am actively nodding off so y'all just get an info dump before I forget it instead. (My baby loftwing being all fluffed and happy on my chest is not helping me focus lol)

Anyway! Miphlink baby!

I think it would be pretty neat if he was hard of hearing. The mix of Hylian/Zora genes mostly goes fine, but that's the one thing that just gets him. Part of it is because Zora and Hylian ears are different - Zora ears are small openings hidden under the side fins on their heads, and we all know about Hylian ears. Zora rely on different hearing sensors when underwater, hollowed out structures in their heads that allow, essentially, for echolocation. Miphlink baby is born with Hylian ears tucked behind thinner side fins, no structures for echolocation, and not the best hearing. So Link and Mipha have to sign with him most of the time, though he does hear a little better underwater since sound travels better underwater.

While Mipha's color scheme for her scales is like crystla red and creamy white, baby's color scheme is a lighter shade of red paired with Link's skin tone. He doesn't have claws, either, but he does have sharp incisors. He's got his dad's blue eyes.

As for size, when he's full grown he'll stand around the height of an adult Hylian man, so he'll be taller than his dad but short by Zora standards (I figure Mipha seems pretty short for her people's standards too - she is a teenager, of course, but like... she's shorter than Link. Girl is tiny). He's got the structural fins like any Zora, but his body proportions are those of a Hylian (longer legs, shorter torso, whereas Zora are shorter legs and longer torso).

He grows at a rate similar to Hylians - Zora age twice as slow as Hylians until they hit adulthood, and then they just... are adults for a million years. But Miphlink baby grows roughly at the rate of a Hylian, maybe a little slower, and the rest of the Domain is just floored at how fast this kid is hitting his growth milestones.

He definitely has that cute "head tail is too big for his body" thing going on that Sidon had <3

[claire-the-harpy]

To be honest, YES, YES, I would also like to see something similar in future episodes!!!

I've been thinking about the possible interaction between Ray and Sky, and even more so after Obi's recent post and the new shorts, I can't keep quiet.

I had a plot in my head that Dork and Rey found out that Sky was a vampire. And then there's the fact that these two guys know each other. And since Ray has already mentioned that he has a lot of sexual partners, Dork could have just snapped while talking to him.

Because of jealousy? No, I don't think so. Just imagine, Ray already knows a vampire, damn it (although he probably doesn't know it himself). He lives separately in a great apartment, and has a job. He had, in fact, arranged his life perfectly by the age of 27. And Dork... which flies past many points where Ray has succeeded. Which can hit self-esteem incredibly hard, especially Dork's self-esteem. (I think these two are the same age, because they were classmates)

I can see them starting a little argument, and suddenly Dork loses control of what they're saying and says something like:

– "My God, this whole situation doesn't piss me off because you had something with guy I don't even know... and because of how unworthy I am!!! Do you really think I like my life? What am I like now? According to you, I don't get up every morning thinking...

"COOL, I'VE LIVED ALMOST A THIRD OF MY LIFE FOR NOTHING AND ACHIEVED NOTHING IN SO MUCH TIME, CONGRATULATIONS!!"

...AND Don't think that this started happening recently, I haven't been able to get these thoughts out of my head since I was DAMN 15. From the very f@cking beginning, I realized inside that I was NOT capable of anything... Just don't think that this is your merit, too much honor. You just didn't make the situation any better, just like everyone else around me...It's all my DAMN fault...I've made such a fool of myself.... F@ck, yes, I have a lot of strengths and advantages like a person, but because of people like you and because of myself, every night in high school I trampled myself into the mud, wanting to damn adjust... Do you have any idea what it's like to do your best to hide your feelings all this time?? I KNEW PERFECTLY WELL THAT I WOULD BE RIDICULED IF I EVEN GAVE A REASON TO THINK THAT I WAS IN LOVE WITH YOU.

TO THINK I HAVE DAMN FEELINGS

...DO YOU THINK I HAVEN'T ASKED MYSELF AN INFINITE NUMBER OF TIMES WHY THE HELL I FELL IN LOVE WITH A PERSON THAT MAKES MY LIFE UNCOMFORTABLE ?..and you know what...I DIDN'T FALL IN LOVE WITH YOU THEN BECAUSE OF YOUR IMAGE OF BAD BOY OR ANYTHING LIKE THAT...I WAS INFURIATED BY THE TEACHERS' ATTITUDE TOWARDS YOU.... I REALLY WANTED TO HELP YOU AND BE THERE FOR YOU... You're really smart, and I didn't want to see you accept this role of a bully with no future... I really wanted to help with all my heart, but I was afraid of ridicule and bullying.....but after all this time, I still haven't gotten rid of these feelings....

///here Dork could sit down somewhere or sink to the floor, as it is not particularly good to tolerate such frank conversations. ////

WHY ON DAMN EARTH I involved myself in all this? Yes, I finally have a chance to be your....FRIEND AT LEAST ... I have a chance to change....but inside, I realize how stupid I am, how dumb.... I already know how much I will regret telling you all this in the future... But it's been inside me for too long.... I'm sorry for all this nonsense....

And that's where the tears will start. Cool, I like it.

I want Dork to just break into tears

Full on heavy breathing, barely conscious, eye flooding crying

Mostly because I think it'd be such a difficult situation for Ray to deal with, like sure nobody really knows how to handle crying people but with their history and the current state of their...friendship-? Forgiveness arc? Wtv they got going on, how the hell would Ray know what to do

I want Dork to be an absaloute mess and Ray trying his best to figure out what to do without causing any more issues for them, cause I feel like given their situation he doesn't want to cause them more pain, he doesn't want to encourage their suffering. So he's trying to help but when Dork realises how much trouble they're causing simply makes the tears flow thicker

It's a mess and everything's awful...but slowly it calms down...and I feel like that moment, that feeling of finally being able to deal with those heavy feelings would show how far they've come. The changes they've both gone through. It would be amazing

[bitchfitch]

I've started playing Potion Permit, and so far it's one of my favorite games I've messed around with, but the most big brained move the devs made was giving you a dog on day 1, and then making that dog able to track NPCs and lead you directly to them no matter where they are in the town.

[amidnightqueery]

I don't hate my job or anything, but man, being a float educator is so fucking thankless

[kastle-thrones]

Giggling right now

I don't know how this happened other than my rampant reblogging and absolutely batshit theories but I seemed to have accidentally summoned a shitton of bendykin mutuals

hi everyone I love you im so not normal about your source material, please feel free to stay and have a cookie

[spookykestrel]

I've been awake for an hour and I've already slipped and fallen on the ice and am having an unrelated meltdown in the bathroom at work

[pastafossa]

Not an ask or a request - just wanted to send some love your way. I’m on my third reread of TRT and I’m so excited for new stuff but I’m also loving everything you’ve written so far. Thank you for giving us a window into characters and a world that lives off the page. Hope you are having a wonderful spring.

Love from NYC!!

Thank you so, so much anon! 😭 I'm so happy you're enjoying it. I love widening the world, delving into all the chaos and adventures going on in this universe just outside of the canon narrative POV. There's just so much to explore, and I don't think I'll ever get tired of it. I'm just as eager to get back into it, and I feel like I'm getting there, but the patience is still VERY much appreciated. Things were rough for a bit, but spring is definitely feeling like an improvement. <3

Much love back from my cold little city!

[vulpinesaint]

school for the kiddos starts up again tomorrow and i'm gonna be so honest i love summer camps so much but also i'm really excited to get back to my school year job <3 walk the kiddos to school... sit and help them with their homework...

[mokeonn]

Man I gotta get started on that dnd comic idea I've had for a while because if yall like Poetry yall are REALLY gonna like Mystery

[picory]

i need to draw them too. i just have to figure out how.. what situation to put them in...

[bixels]

My older sister gave me some really good advice when I was first learning how to drive and would feel stressed or anxious when I'm driving slower than someone behind me on a one-lane street, or when there's someone waiting on me to make a right turn:

Nobody can make you do anything when you're in a car. They can get impatient or annoyed or even honk at you, but the chances of them getting out and berating you is slim to none. And even then, they can't make you move until you feel safe and ready to.

So for anyone with social anxiety who feels awful whenever they're "underperforming" on the road and holding other people up: your safety matters more than their convenience. If you don't feel safe or comfortable, you are not obligated to put your car into motion, even when pressured. You are not being selfish, you are being responsible. If you can easily get out of the way of others, do so. If you can't, fuck them for honking at you for driving at a safe speed, or making sure there's no oncoming traffic before merging or turning right.

I am BEGGING younger drivers. drive carefully. give yourself room. for fuck's sake use your turn signals and don't fucking weave thru traffic. this is not a video game, this is real life and if you get into an accident, you could get killed or kill someone else VERY easily

[sufficientlylargen]

It always gets me that the name "Gandalf" literally just means "Wand-Elf" or "Stick-Elf". I'm imagining old Gondorians just being like:

Librarian: I saw that weird guy at the library again today.

Guard 1: What weird guy?

Librarian: The old guy with the beard? Kinda elfy-looking, apart from the beard?

Guard 1: Oh, with the big-ass stick?

Librarian: Yeah, looked like he was carrying an entire tree branch.

Guard 2: Yeah, that's the Stick Elf.

Guard 1: Hell yeah, I fuckin' love the Stick Elf.

Librarian: The "Stick Elf"?

Guard 2: He comes by every few years, usually after some weird book or other.

Librarian: Oh. Yeah, he wanted a treatise on goblin breeding habits.

Guard 2: Like, how they have sex? We have books on that?

Librarian: Yeah, turns out we do. I was as surprised as you are.

Guard 1: What'd the Stick Elf need a fuckin' goblin-fuckin' book for?

Librarian: I didn't ask. So you just call him "Stick Elf"?

Guard 2: I mean, he looks kinda elfy and he always has that stick, so, like, yeah.

Guard 1: Dude also has some fuckin' dope pipeweed.

Guard 2: Oh yeah, his pipeweed is awesome.

Librarian: How long has he been coming here?

Guard 2: Oh, for decades. He's, like, super old.

Guard 1: More like fuckin' centuries. Dude's old as balls.

Guard 2: Wait, really?

Guard 1: Yeah, my gran-gran used to talk about him. She loved his pipeweed too.

Librarian: So he's… an immortal pipeweed dealer?

Guard 2: I think he's just, like, a connoisseur. He doesn't sell it or anything. He just always has some really top-notch pipeweed on him.

Archivist: Oh, are we talking about Stick Elf?

Guard 1: Hell yeah we are!

Librarian: You know about the Stick Elf, too?

Archivist: Oh, totally. Stick-Elf's a super chill dude. Gave me some awesome pipeweed when I was maybe 12, and tee-bee-aitch I think I'm still a little buzzed from it.

Guard 1: What'd I tell ya, fuckin' dope pipeweed!

Archivist: Also he's really old.

Guard 1: Old as balls.

Librarian: Yeah, so Éodan and Jenniforomir were telling me.

Archivist: My grandpa used to tell me stories - he said one time he saw Stick Elf enter a smoke-ring contest.

Guard 1: Ooh, I'll bet he kicked fuckin' ass.

Archivist: Apparently the guy made an entire warship out of smoke and it flew around shooting down the other rings.

Librarian: And how much of this "fuckin' dope" pipeweed had your grandfather had by this point?

Guard 1: No no, that's totally plausible. Dude's got weird elf powers and shit for sure.

Archivist: He brought fireworks for the king's birthday one year, too.

Guard 1: Oh fuck, I forgot about those! Fuckin' incredible fireworks! Dragons and knights and glowy trees and shit! I was fuckin' 6 years old or something, they totally blew my mind. Hey Éodan, did you see that shit?

Guard 2: No, I think that's before I lived in Gondor.

Guard 1: Wait, you're not from here?

Guard 2: Oh, no, I grew up in Rohan. We moved here when I was, like, thirteen because my uncle Éojeff said he could get my dad a sweet job. And also that there were houses that didn't smell like horseshit.

Guard 1: Oh shit, are you related to Éojeff and Éosteve who run that æbleskiver stand on Norndîl St?

Guard 2: Yeah, they're my uncles!

Guard 1: Shit, they cook a fuckin' great æbleskiver!

Librarian: Ok, hold up a sec, "Stick Elf" can't possibly be his real name.

Guard 1: Why not?

Librarian: What? You think his parents named him in the hopes that he would carry around a fucking tree when he got older?

Guard 2: Maybe they gave him the tree when he was born!

Archivist: I don't think a baby could carry that stick.

Guard 1: You ever seen a baby hanging onto something? They're hella strong.

Archivist: It's not a strength thing, their hands are tiny. That staff is enormous!

Guard 1: My halberd's bigger 'n I am, I can hold it just fine.

Archivist: You're not a baby.

Librarian: Also why would elf parents name their kid "stick ELF"?! Presumably they know that their kid's going to be an elf!

Archivist: Is he actually an elf? I didn't think they grew beards.

Guard 1: How'd he get old as balls if he's not an elf?

Guard 2: His ears aren't that pointy. Maybe he's just a really old guy? Like, a Numémoriam or something?

Guard 1: Did you just say "Numémoriam"?

Guard 2: Nûnenorman? Munimõrbitan? Y'know, those guys like the king that can get super old.

Guard 1: You mean the fuckin' Númenóreans?

Guard 2: Yeah, the Númenóreums.

Archivist: Even the Númenóreans don't live THAT long.

Guard 1: Plus he carries that fuckin' stick around.

Guard 2: Wait, what does the stick have to do with it?

Guard 1: That's an elf thing. Y'know, trees and shit? Very elfy.

Librarian: Ok, look, but his parents naming him "Stick Elf" would be weird whether or not he's an elf. In fact, it's even weirder if he's not - what human names their kid "elf"?

Archivist: Huh. Yeah, you're right, he probably does have another name.

Guard 2: Yeah, I guess so.

Librarian: He's been coming here for decades and nobody's ever asked his real name?

Archivist: I dunno what to tell you, he's Stick Elf. Even his library card just says 'Stick Elf'.

Guard 1: Fuck yeah, the Stick Elf!

Guard 2: Maybe we could, like, ask him his name sometime?

Guard 1: Hey, look, Elrond's over there. He's old as balls too, maybe he knows?

Guard 2: Oh, we shouldn't interru-

Guard 1: HEY ELROND, YOU'RE OLD AS BALLS, RIGHT? WHAT'S THAT OLD ELF WITH THE STICK'S NAME?

Elrond (coming over): Do you mean an old man cloaked all in grey and blue, leaning on a rough-cut staff, who came to the great library this day?

Guard 1: Yeah, the Stick-Elf!

Guard 2: (Sorry to bother you, sir...)

Librarian: He's got to have a real name besides 'the Stick Elf', right?

Elrond: Indeed, for no elf is he. You speak of the wizard Olórin, wisest of the Maiar, older even than Eä itself. Many are his names in many countries: Tharkûn among the Dwarves; Incánus to the south; Mithrandir he is called among my people, the Grey Pilgrim.

Librarian: Oh.

Elrond: And here in the North he is called Stick-Elf.

Librarian: Oh.

Guard 1: Fuck yeah!

[followerofmercy]

Networking/Knowing A Guy: A Guide

This is the autism website. Now, as an extension of the power of love and friendship, there are few things more useful than Knowing A Guy. Knowing A Guy means you have a support network. Knowing a plumber, or a tax accountant, or just that one dude that's really fucking good at finding the information you need when you're really overwhelmed, can be the difference between being able to pay rent and having a fun party with friends to fix your shit.

How does one end up Knowing A Guy? It's a skill you can develop called Networking and it is one of the foundations of society. Unfortunately making those connections with people is fucking hard and nobody makes a tutorial for it. So, here you go:

The golden rule is you scratch my back and I scratch yours

It is necessary for survival to seek out useful people

Great news! Everyone is useful in some form or fashion - including you! When given the opportunity to learn about someone, do it! Extroversion does not come naturally to some people and that's okay. Just take whatever falls in your lap.

Types of usefulness: trade skills, connections of their own, personality you jive with, pleasant to talk to, niche interest in shared hobby, security - the list is pretty much endless. I know a guy that lives in the metro area - no job, no major hobbies, inoffensively annoying to me personally, kinda ignorant, not attractive to me, but you know what? He knows how the fuck to get around the city by foot. My rural-raised ass APPRECIATES the guide.

Remember important information: general personality, background, skillset, likes and dislikes. You can find this information by making smalltalk about their life. There is no such thing as pointless conversation. (Yes, even the annoying smalltalk)

The more people you know, the higher the likelihood that one of them will be useful in a given situation - or will know someone who is.

It is overwhelming. In a given clique/community/workspace/whatever, there is A Guy Who Knows The Other Guys. This Guy is a shortcut. Find them. They're often elderly, extroverted, a little bit annoying, a secretary or in some otherwise forward-facing position. Look for people that are gossipy/talk about other people a lot but not in negative ways. If they constantly talk shit, they'll talk shit about you too. They're still useful but be careful with the information you share

You do not have to like someone for them to be useful.

You do not have to like someone for them to be useful.*

If you have low self esteem, you're going to feel like you're using people. You're not. That's the devil talking. People like feeling valued and the connections you are making are the threads holding community together. Recognize people for their talents. It's only a problem when you're taking advantage of people

So: don't feel scummy about it. You're an animal. You have to claw out your right to survive and people will respect you more for it.

Luckily mutualism is the name of the game in the animal kingdom. Offer something back. The foundation of a Know A Guy relationship is Mutual Benefit

Sometimes that Mutual Benefit is just spreading news of the The Guy far and wide. My plumber friend is my actual friend and I love her to death, but I'm maintaining our backscratch relationship by pimping out her plumbing business to anyone that'll listen

Food is a good Mutual Benefit. People across cultures for all of human history have bonded over food. I have good success asking people for a favor and then offering to buy them lunch in return **

General compensation is also good. Offer a service in return and always do your best to offer financial compensation as appropriate. Having your plumber friend take a look at your drain: doable with a case of beer. Having your plumber friend redo the pipes in your entire house? You need to pay for that.

Being transactional is not necessarily a bad thing. I would advise against keeping an itemized list of things owed, but fish don't seek out cleaner shrimp just because they enjoy their company. Everyone gets something

Unfortunately being extroverted and generally personable is a huge benefit here, but that's the value of the Guy That Knows A Guy. There's someone out there that has consolidated All The Guys so you don't have to be the local expert. Always remember nobody can do everything and you don't need to master every skill

* This is the foundation of a functioning community. I have many acquaintances that I find incredibly annoying. They include doctors, welders, artists, social workers, lawyers, construction crew and random fuckers at the grocery store. I do not hang out with them. I do not have to in order to maintain a civil Know A Guy relationship. I can drop them useful tidbits and fuck right off so I don't have to spend any more time than necessary with them

** People may assume romantic intent. Be prepared for that. I generally denote that it's a friendly/work lunch by calling them bro at some point if they're my age. Otherwise my general demeanor is sufficient to show that I do this with everyone

Source: personal experience, mother's teachings of crime, booth vending and poverty