#<-<- this is my personal tag for my posts that aren't just a blank reblog
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
thcbolter · 6 months ago
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(No "see results" option because I find that more non-gifmakers than actual gifmakers will engage with the poll if there's an option like that. If you aren't a gifmaker, this poll is not for you.)
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cack1e · 1 year ago
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There's quite a lot to cover so I'm just going to explain what comes to mind.
When making a post, you may notice the little section with '#'s at the bottom. This is the tagging section and it's mostly used in the same way as other social media (like Instagram). You can click on a tag and search the entire website for content with that tag OR search on a blog/account for use of that tag. You can also follow tags, I think that's similar to Instagram. Some accounts will have their own personal tags for certain types of posts (like me, I use "#my art" for my art, but you will have to go onto my profile to search for that). Because the tags are a seperate section, it's common for users to use them for "secret" or less exposed messages and you may see people writing sentences in the tags of their posts or of reblogs for this reason.
For your profile, you may want to add a profile picture or banner image if you start following people. This is because this website has a robot problem and some people will block users with the default profile picture because of it (D:). You can also hide the "Likes" and "Following" tabs on your profile page when editing it since those are public by default and you may want the privacy.
Tumblr also has a feature called "asks" or "inbox" where you can submit messages or posts to users that have those features enabled & the messages you send can be incorporated into one of their posts. It's kind of like "CuriousCat" if you've heard of that. This feature is good because sometimes you have the option to send Anonymous messages, in case you are too shy to ask with your account name attatched to the message haha.
Unlike Twitter, Tumblr is less focused on the present. It's good for art (drawings, music, photos) and joke posts because posts that are many years old can can be easily found and reblogged (shared, similar to Twitter's retweet) without stigma (it's actually very common to share posts that are quite old). For this reason, this website is good if you have niche interests. I hope you find something you like on here!
If you have any other questions or want a tutorial on a specific thing, you can message me here or on Twitter and I'll do my best to help you :)! Also, I'm sorry if this is a bit too much information and is overwhelming for you😅
絶妙にTwitterと異なるシステムに戸惑いつつある
微妙に使いにくい
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lxnarphase · 15 days ago
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do you have any advice for new writers who want to start posting on tumblr?
Oh man, I'm gonna give you a list of things I wish I could've told myself when I first started posting.
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Some Basic Tips:
Don't be scared to post! You'll never see growth in your followers, mutuals, and even your writing if you don't post!
Be open to asking others for help or advice if you struggle with writing. I sometimes ask some of my mutuals for help or read fanfiction to see how others write a scene. Then, I take the knowledge and write it in my own way. For example, I do well with writing dialogue but find myself always struggling with how to start the story.
Don't be afraid to post about non-writing things, too! Remember, you deserve to have fun on your account, so post what you want. You aren't a machine. You are a person!
The number of notes you get doesn't determine your worth or skill in writing. In my opinion, Tumblr has shifted a bit, making it harder for smaller writers to get likes, reblogs, or comments on their works.
But at the end of the day, in order to enjoy being a writing blog on Tumblr, you have to enjoy what you are writing and posting. Do not feel like you have to force yourself to write just for the numbers, let it happen naturally. Things will start out slow at first, as all things do, but you'll get to a point where you can barely keep up with things.
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Post and Blog Formatting + Style:
Formatting is really important! Break up paragraphs, ask a friend to be a beta reader, and for longer works, go back and proofread if you have the time! It's okay if you have minor mistakes, though. I tend to miss things in my writing, and when I return a week later, I just fix them. No big deal!
Nowadays, aesthetics is HUGE for fanfiction posts and your account. Channel your creativity and style! Make your blog super pretty in your own way! It can be pink and cutesy, black and edgy, simple and clean, or colorful and cluttered! Don't have a blank blog!
PUT YOUR AGE CLEARLY SOMEWHERE! In your bio, pinned post, SOMEWHERE IT IS EASY TO SEE. I have had writing accounts follow me but no age, so I don't feel comfortable engaging with them.
You can take inspiration from other accounts (don't outright copy, though) on how they format their fanfictions. You will probably notice a lot of accounts have headers, dividers, or colored text. You can do that too, as it can catch the readers attention.
I get headers from doujins and mangas I read, websites such as Pinterest are good for cute ones, and Twitter is your go-to for more NSFW headers.
Create a tagging system to make navigating your blog easier, and have a pinned post with links to your rules/byf/masterlist/etc.
Try to put warnings in your writing. A lot of people have filters on to avoid the types of content they don't want to see, but there are the occasional people who don't put warnings in the writing post itself. It could be a simple tag or a list of themes at the beginning of the post.
An example would be a post with the tag #dubcon #tw dubcon OR putting "cw: dubcon" in the post itself before the writing itself.
This is a tag vs. in the actual post
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Tagging and Reblogs
Speaking of tags, USE THE TAGGING SYSTEM! If you don't tag your post with popular fanfiction tags, it will be hard for people to find you.
Only the first twenty tags will show up in Tumblr search, including your own blog. Reblogs will not show up in tracked tags or searches.
However, don't feel bad for reblogging your own works again. Do it as many times as you want. You created something and should feel proud of it! I still reblog things from January just because.
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Making Mutuals
Don't be afraid to engage with other accounts. That's how you make friends on here! But here's something important:
Be genuine. Make mutuals because you enjoy each other's work, AND both have fun talking with each other! If someone doesn't add you back as a mutual, that is okay; don't feel like they have something against you! Making mutuals shouldn't be your only goal when posting on Tumblr. Otherwise, you might tire yourself out mentally. It took me a while to make mutuals on here, but I'm glad it did it naturally instead of trying to force it.
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Asks and Anons
Once you build a following, you will get the most wonderful, loving, and supportive anons in your inbox! Cherish them, respond to them, and have fun with them! Because there is a very high chance, you will also get assholes in your inbox.
I say this from the bottom of my heart but do NOT give hateful people your attention because that is what they thrive on. I still get them, but when I tell you I am at so much peace, I block and delete the messages and carry on.
If a certain message bothers me for a bit, then I just take a little break, talk to some friends about what happened, and do what helps me calm down so I don't act rashly. Don't be afraid to turn off anonymous messages for a while. This is YOUR blog, not theirs.
Don't feel pressured to answer every ask or fulfill every request. Take your time because that can burn you out! I love socializing so much, but sometimes I just pull a blank on how to respond to my asks. I always ensure my mutuals and followers know that I'm not ignoring them and just tend to go blank-brained with some asks, OR I save some of them to look at when I'm sad!
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Overall, just start and DO IT FOR YOURSELF.
That's the best advice for when you want to make anything. You just have to start posting and learning and improving as you go on. Hopefully, this will sort of help. I know it's not the best list of advice, but it's just some things I would tell myself back when I first started.
If you have any other questions, I can try my best to answer them!
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anantaru · 10 months ago
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You think rape is funny? Maybe once you fucking experience it you won’t. Fucking cunt.
hello. so I'll just jump right into this. tw. discourse tw. mentioning r*pe.
@saetoru made this claim about me:
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saetoru, could you add proof at least? i can not remember a time where i would repost a joke like that so i'd love for you to show me proof please, this is all I'm asking.
also how was it on your dash, on your own dash and @dottores dash, when you have never followed me? + but maybe it was the for you feature that was the same for the both of you.
accusing someone without proof is not okay, again, i can not remember doing this so if you have a screenshot add it so i can remember and apologize, but i can't do anything because i don't remember saying a joke with SA in mind.
before that i just want to mention: i don't think r*pe is funny, i'm not a dark content blog either so i do not really reblog dark content things because i'm sure most of my readers don't want that + I'm just not into that as well. the only joke i was "called out" for once is when i used a "i want xyz character to smack their laptop on my face or tits" which i got from an andrew garfield interview where he read his thirst tweets out loud, at that time i just deleted it because it's alright.
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dottores, your mutuals, two of them to be exact, have sent me multiple of your personal blog hate posts about me and not once, have you made one where you talked about me saying an SA joke. you have only claimed that i am a cunt and that i am a gatekeeping bitch hence why i believed this must be the reason why you would suddenly hate me despite the fact we never interacted.
now, I want to address this next, this is from @dottores post which when i got it sent to me, i would've wished she just tagged me right away and said it with her chest, more so not let saetoru talk about her experience but just handle this with me.
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^ this is cat @dottores saying i got it wrong.
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^ this is why i believed she meant it just like i said it, why do you go through blogs that grow really fast's notes in the first place? where do you take the right to police other blogs like that when i'm sure your blogs aren't empty of blank blogs either. it is hard to get rid of all of them but i'm sure we all try at least, we don't need you to make us feel bad or come off as belittling, if you have found out a way to get rid of every blank blog, do enlighten us please.
+ at that time of this reblog icks?? post that saetoru added, my blog was blowing up so when a moot of mine (which was also theirs at a time) saw this, they had sent it to me.
"creators that grow really fast" and nowhere has she mentioned she only went through only her own moots notes, aside from that apologies but i still find this weird, i don't think you should invest so much time in other people's blog but this is my opinion.
this is the next thing she said:
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i don't know if dottores meant me there but i have never once harassed you nor sent you hate anywhere, again you cannot just accuse me of stuff like that when you have also never reached out to me. The things i claimed about you guys in your callout, i have text messages of the person (your moot) who sent it to me.
but back again, the only thing i did do was block dottores on tumblr and then later ao3 when i saw you in tags, which you made fun of me for later:
also i got this ask that time:
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"who blocks on ao3?" i do, ao3 is the platform i use the most so why is it funny when i use the block button? + i just like to point something out here, "they must've clicked to read and realize it was me" you can think that if you want i don't mind, but let me ask you this: i have seen you in tags hence why i was able to block you, but how did you notice i did? you can't see me in tags so surely you didnt click on my work, so you must've searched up my user for whatever reason?
and i know this is about me because she added the "this person called me chronically online" i couldn't find the post but what she was talking about is me calling other writers who reblogged that one "ick post" with not needed things such as "when writers cant characterize a character" or "when they only write headcanons", i have plenty of screenshots of that post but since i don't want to use up all my space here, i don't see why i should show their reblogs from this.
there were plenty of people like that, which reblogged horrible things there so i called everyone under that post chronically online, not just you dottores.
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yeah :) like people making fun of someone for blocking them for their own comfort. i just don't want to see you, that's all, but i have never send you hate asks nor harassed you, the only thing i did was block the blogs your own mutuals exposed to me.
next:
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^ this is after i felt bad for you after the callout.
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this is coming from your own mutuals, i have never alone claimed you guys are jealous of me nor is there anything to be jealous about. i am just a blog, this here is not being popular, no one knows who i am and i do not need to pride myself in having a big blog on tumblr.com, and my readers know that. we are all the same here.
next:
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i didn't mean you here saetoru but i understand that it sounded that way, the phrasing was a little off, for that i apologise that i made you upset with this, english is not my first language, i'm french, and when it comes to this callout post i was so fed up with it that i just posted it without looking for grammar mistakes etc. + this is about one of your friends who deleted their personal the second i announced i got their user, that was something with kaeya, when they sent me a hate ask. i won't expose it here but that person was also the one who blacklisted a friend of mine for liking itto.
i think there is a lot more but i will stop it there, this could've ended differently and i'm sad that it ended this way. I wish you all the best and i mean it, i hope we all can learn from this and move on, write on tumblr for our favorite characters because it's fun and stay away from drama. If you made it this far thank you 💓 — yoru
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solradguy · 1 month ago
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They b calling Sol Badguy a lesbian again. I gotta point aggressively at like Millia. I-No. The curios and such. You’re familiar
I feel like I'm starting to be an obnoxious asshole about the lesbian Sol Badguy thing so I'm going to explain why I don't care for it in greater depth than I have elsewhere so far and then put something brief about it in my pinned. Not exactly a "DNI" because, ultimately, I think those do more harm to the person sharing it than it does to help them (it's an itemized list of things guaranteed to upset the author), but more of a "I'm very tired, please don't" list.
After I post this, I'm done talking about butch/lesbian Sol Badguy.
My elaboration on this might come across as a little mean so if you're a lesbian Sol enjoyer and don't want to read all that, my feelings can be briefly summarized with: I don't like it and people keep making me see it in places blacklists don't work in.
In essence, I don't really care what people headcanon characters as because, in the end, it's just harmless fun. But the reason I don't care is because I generally have control (via blacklisting, unfollowing, etc) over what I do and don't see. I don't like this headcanon for Sol and people keep making me see it; I can't blacklist what shows up in tags or reblog comments in my notifications tab and it feels really mean blocking every single person that does it.
The lesbian/butch Sol thing came from an innocent one-off kinda jokey comment over on Twitter and people ran with it like it was the best thing ever. I think it's annoying, and I just don't like it. That's the surface level basics of my feelings about this.
The deeper part is that fandoms will pick a cis male character to put femme or lesbian identities/labels on over one of the cis female characters—or even one of the canon trans women, if the IP has it, and GG does have a canon trans woman—in almost every case. I have yet to see as many people call any of the women of Guilty Gear butch or lesbian with the same energy people have for Sol.
There are characters in Guilty Gear that would take far less effort and would have so much more to explore with a butch/lesbian identity than Sol does. There are already characters with very, very, solid evidence suggesting they're lesbian or bisexual women. I-No, Millia, and Elphelt are just 3 of them. Arguments could be made for Baiken, Giovanna, May, Bridget, and Jam too. Personality-wise, Baiken or I-No would probably be the closest to Sol if Sol's pricky-outside-but-softer-inside dynamic is appealing.
Jack-O' is also kind of a blank slate in regards to her interests post-Strive. She's resolved her difficulties with being a vessel for Aria and is now open and excited to explore what the world has to offer her and what things in it she might come to love. If one of the pillars of the lesbian Sol headcanon is his relationship with Jack-O', I don't think it would be hard at all shipping Jack-O' with one of the women with the same level of intimacy she's capable of with Sol.
Her and Sol aren't married, you wouldn't have to divorce them to make it work like a post-Overture era relationship with Ky or Dizzy. Maybe Sol is too clingy and it's suffocating to Jack-O' so they separated, or maybe Sol expected Jack-O' to perfectly fill the void Aria had left (maybe he even eventually slips and calls her Aria?) and it just ended up being too weird so he was the one to break it off. There are even a few points throughout Xrd and Strive where Sol straight up just was not very nice to her and maybe she's thought on it and it bothers her. You could even just say (or not say why at all) that they split with no bad feelings and they're just platonic friends now. There is a lot to work with here.
To summarize: I think this headcanon is very surface level, a disservice to Guilty Gear's female cast, and that it would be more interesting and more fun for people if they explored these dynamics with one of the women instead of doing it with one of the men.
Don't let this post and my feelings on lesbian Sol stop you from enjoying it if it is fun for you and brings any sort of fulfillment, but know that I just don't like it and I don't want to have to keep seeing it. I have blacklists and things set up to not see it when I go into tags, this is almost purely localized in my notifications tab. Don't stop posting it in tags or sharing it just because of me. However, I will see it if you tag it or comment it on an original post I made or a post reblogged directly from my blog.
Thank you for reading. Sorry for being kind of a bummer about this headcanon.
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hangmanssunnies · 2 years ago
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Good Comes In 3
House We Share: Double Tap, Sfumato, Good Comes In 3
Summary:  You and Jake navigate what it means to spend six months apart. Then, when he does come home, you two have to evaluate precisely what feelings you have for each other and also what a future together could mean. You just aren't sure he will ever forgive you for starting a puzzle without him. 
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Pairings: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Fem! Civilian! Reader, minor Javy "Coyote" Machado x OC
Word count: 34K
AO3 Link
Warnings: Angst with a happy ending, Abuse (Implied), Slow burn, routines and compulsions, Jigsaw puzzles, Rejection, Drinking, Arguments, Yearning, Deployment, communication, Fertility problems, miscarriage (discussed), menstruation (discussed and lightly described), close female friendships, Depressive episodes, PTSD, roommates to lovers, love confessions, hyper-specific!Jake, Neurodivergent coded! Jake. Please let me know if I missed any for this part; I know it is a long one.
An: Unfortunately, this last part was too long to post altogether here on Tumblr. So I have included the first half here, the rest can be read on AO3 though. My first reblog of this here on Tumblr has the other half as well. I apologize for the inconvenience.
Thank you for taking this journey with me. Thank you all for loving this version of Jake. There were so many things I wanted to include and finish off for these two. While I couldn't include everything, I hope you enjoy what I did.
Thank you so much if you take a chance to read this work. I hope you enjoy it. My inbox is always open if you want to let me know your thoughts. Reblogs with your thoughts, opinions, and tags are gold to me. I love reading through them.
"Jake looked tired. Has he told you how he's been sleeping?" Marlee asks you curiously while chatting with you on the phone. The question causes your stomach to roll in a deep dive, and it takes you a moment to find the composure to respond. 
"No, I haven't heard," you manage to tell her. Setting down the piece of fruit you had been about to eat, you lean back against the kitchen counter. 
"Ah, well, will you ask him about it whenever you next talk? He wouldn't answer Javy or me about it when we asked."
"You and Javy are joined at the hip, practically the same person sometimes. Do you find that shocking?" You ask Marlee teasingly. Marlee chuckles at your comment. Her smile betrays her true feelings, though she likes how in sync she and Javy are generally considered. 
"We are sometimes." Marlee concedes but then says frankly, "But even when Javy had his individual call with Jake, he wouldn't say. And you are the only other person I can imagine him opening up to," 
"I'll mention it next time I talk to him," you manage to say. It would just be one of the many things that you were supposed to be talking to Jake about on his deployment. It was easier to go along with their assumption than to flay your chest open and let the hurt you felt pour out. 
Sometimes it's better, easier, to keep the kind of pain you felt to yourself. Bundled close and protected. To expose it would just make it hurt all the more. The idea of anyone, especially your closest friends, knowing you weren't important enough, or you had scared Jake away, or made some other mishap was mortifying. How could you go about explaining what had transpired? You weren't sure you could explain it. Also, Javy and Marlee had plenty of other things and people to worry about without having to add you higher on their list than you were already placed. You felt bad each week when one of them called you to check in begging, sometimes demanding that you hang out with them. 
"Okay, I'll talk to you later then, babes. I love you!"
"I love you too, Marlee," you say, giving her the sweetest, kindest tone you can muster up. You end the call and walk over to the chalkboard in the kitchen. 
Jake normally would draw seasonal decorations on it, but you had cleared it to be blank for notes months ago. The only thing on the board is a list you had titled: things to talk to Jake about. You add 'sleeping habits' to the bottom and frown. Reading through the list makes tears prick at the back of your eyes, and a lump forms in your throat. You hold the eraser poised for a moment, ready to trash the entire list, but you don't manage to follow through and drop the eraser, letting it fall to the ground. 
You walk through the house, checking the locks and turning off the lights. The sadness and frustration you feel in you is still bubbling as you pass where Jake had unceremoniously left the large Juniper chest. You glare at it just like you do every night. 
The morning Jake left, he'd woken you up with his thumb tracing your pulse point. His soft mostly lidded eyes trained on you, neither of you said anything just laying there quietly memorizing the moment. Neither of you could bear to get up until after the third alarm rang. The sun still hadn't crested the horizon when Jake went to shower. While he was occupied you stole one of his large Navy shirts that had been washed so many times it was soft. You are reluctant to leave his room, but make your way to the kitchen starting some breakfast and Jake's morning tea. You were just adding the dollop of honey he likes when he came downstairs, fully dressed and ready to leave you. 
Jake thanked you sweetly, with a kiss pressed to your cheek. In the same breath he tried to steal the whisk out of your hand. You danced out of way holding the whisk out like a sword to ward him off. He had quickly grabbed the masher from the utensil jar and brandished it in response. Amusement filling his features. After a small chase around the kitchen which included a small clash of utensils, Jake got his way. You loved the way Jake's eyes crinkled and how charming his dimples and smile lines were. It was a look you almost always got anytime you let him do things for you. Jake had still let you help though, asking you to toast the sourdough bread, while he whipped the avocado, goat cheese, and honey together. Once it was the constituency he liked, Jake spread it on the toast sprinkling some sea salt on top. He made one for you as well, but you had already started cooking three eggs for him, and didn't really have an appetite. After Jake ate, you spent every minute waiting for Coyote to arrive for pick up wrapped tightly in Jake's arms.  
"There is one last thing I need before I go," Jake had said. 
"I can't give it to you this time," you said muffled, trying hard not to cry on his whites. 
"Just one smile." Jake pleaded with his large warm hand lifting your chin so he could stare at you intently again. 
"No, Jake." He frowned at your answer, eyebrows pulling tight together. 
"I suppose I've reached my limit on things I can take from you." Jake puffed out with a quiet sigh. The tip of Jake's nose had dragged softly across your forehead before pressing a soft kiss to the center. He lingered there, breathing you in.
"Thank you for everything, my sweet," Jake whispered quietly. 
Your breath hitched in your throat, and you tried to pull him as close and tight to you as possible again. Jake allowed you to hug him, but he didn't relax into the embrace like he normally would have. He was almost stiff in your hold, but one of his hands traced slowly over your back in a soothing motion. When Coyote's headlights had inevitably shown through the frosted window on the door, Jake carefully detangled himself from your arms. He lingered though practically trembling. 
"I can't do it," Jake whispered, leaving his forehead pressed to yours. 
"It's not optional, and there isn't anything Hangman can't do. Let alone something you've done before," you reassured him. It didn't seem to work as he tensed up more.
"Promise me you'll be okay," Jake had begged you. You had nodded yes in response, saying the word would have tasted too close to a lie. Jake's nose nudged yours and he asked again. The second time was much closer to a desperate demand, "promise me." 
"If you be safe," you had compromised, wanting to savor every second ticking by that you would never get back. This last time you would be in the same space sharing the same air, for an undetermined amount of time. With a resolve you knew you didn't possess, Jake mouthed the words goodbye he was so close that his lips brushed yours as he did so. With a shaky inhale, Jake stepped away from you. His first two steps hadn't hurt so much, but the third as he exited the front door took all the air with him, including the bit trapped in your lungs. It was a sense of instant emptiness you had never experienced before. Everything you wanted to do seemed impossible when you couldn't even breathe. So there was no running after him for one more stolen moment, no collapsing against the floor, sobbing until your throat was raw, no more reassuring green eyes you could look to for comfort. 
The hollow feeling that nestled into you was hard to find your balance with. You had thrown the lock on the door and stumbled through the house, ready to retreat back into Jake's bed. Well aware his scent would be gone sooner rather than later, you were determined to imprint as much of it to memory as possible. You are blindsided by pain shooting up your foot as you unexpectedly stubbed your toe. Cursing and looking down you realized there was now a new piece of furniture. Jake had left a hand made juniper chest Jake left sitting in the area between the living room and dining room. On top was a small note card with a watercolor of two very detailed puzzle pieces. 
You stare so hard at the water colored pieces trying to parse their meaning the focus of your visions started to blur. The rapid blink forced tears to lubricate the area. However, when there is one tear there are others quick to follow. Just as a tear had splashed against the edge of the card you recognized the duplicates of the last two pieces you and Jake had double tapped into your last puzzle. On the back of the card stock was the drawn design of the chest, with all of Jake's neat measurements noted. You traced over his neat handwriting, and you were quick to quell your disappointment not finding more. That confusion and disappointment was impossible to ignore when you had gone to see what was inside and it was locked, the latch refusing to open. 
Now, after 6 and ½ months of radio silence, the chest taunted you. His entire deployment, there hadn't been a single word to you. Your only source of information was occasionally hearing from Coyote and Marlee about how Hangman was doing. And there was the memory of him, a large empty house, and a locked chest that was too heavy for you to move. 
You kick the side of the chest as you walk past it. It has become a tradition for you – this small abuse of the furniture while pacing before bed was a small soothing habit that helped you work some of your worries out. Once the feeling of missing Jake had settled into a dull, steady pain there was room for anger. You were furious and the only thing you had to take it out on was this beautiful work of craftsmanship. Unshockingly, the chest had been well made – because why would Jake make something that was easy to take your anger out on. He couldn't even give you that small concession. Even though you aren't as angry anymore, kicking the chest has become a part of your nightly routine. 
The chest didn't just bother you because it was locked or a surprise gift you hadn't asked for. It also bothered you because of what it was made from. The juniper wood Jake used didn't match the boards he used for the puzzle table, which was a more common light juniper. The boards for the chest were such a deep red it looked purple. Jake made it from one of the logs that you had helped him strip. Seeing the chest felt like a reopening weeping sore; one bleeding from a formally treasured memory that was nestled close to your heart. 
Saturday mornings were always a wild card with Jake.It was the one day of the week you could never be 100% sure what his plans were. There were staples you could expect like his morning run, but after that who knew? Sometimes he would have plans to see his friends, other times he had a project, list of chores, plans with his "little brother", manuals to read or some other all day activity. He liked it to be all day. So Sometimes you liked to just lounge in the living room waiting to see what he was going to do before making any plans of your own. 
 "Hey, I'm going on a drive and run some errands. Anything you want me to pick up?" Jake says to you when he comes down the stairs one Saturday morning. 
"Oh, can I come with?"  
"Sure, if you want. It's going to be boring though," Jake warns you. 
"No, it won't," You protest, standing up and stretching. "I'd rather be with you. As long as you don't mind me tagging along?"
"Yeah, of course, sugar. I never mind when you tag along." Jake says with a wide smile. 
"Well, what's the errand so I know how to dress?"
"I'm going to meet an old friend." 
"Oh my god. Please be less ominous Jake"
"What would you like to hear, sugar?"
"Who exactly are we meeting?"
"We are meeting up with my friend, Jess." 
"And?"  
"And, and, and," Jake says, twirling his hand around the air before dramatically pointing to his watch. "We are already 4 minutes behind our schedule. I'll tell you right now that this is cutting into our farmers market time." "Farmer's Market is on the list?" 
"Of course it is sugar. And so is Target," Jake says in his ‘duh-voice’ that you actually hate, but also you love because it reminds you how easy this is supposed to be. How it's not supposed to be a second thought. The things you like are included and planned for without you having to ask.
You are scrambling up the stairs to get ready when Jake calls after you. "You don't actually have to rush!! I'll make up time on the road."
"You know I don't support your excessive speeding Jake!" you call back, grabbing what you thought you would need. 
"Bring socks for your heavy boots!" When you make it back downstairs Jake is tapping his pen aggressively against a notepad. 
"What am I going to need boots for?" You ask him suspiciously while going through your items. 
"Do you want car snacks? I packed some, and we can always stop to pick something else up." Jake asks you glancing up from his paper. 
"We don't have to have snacks; I know you don't like eating in the truck." 
Jake just shrugs and opens the door to the garage for you. "It's not a big deal, I'll add the car wash to my list for tomorrow." 
"I also got your truck slippers so you don't have to wear your boots for the drive," Jake tells you. It's so sweet you want to grab him in a tight hug. You squeeze your hands tight instead, waiting for the urge to pass. Jake helps you up into the passenger side of the truck. Just as he said, the soft fuzzy blanket you like, and the slippers Jake got you are laid out waiting. Jake helps you out of your boots and into the slippers, setting them in the back seat for later. Once you are fully settled and buckled, Jake closes your door. He checks that the garage door is locked before jumping in the truck himself. 
"Was I quick enough for you not to aggressively speed?" you ask when Jake gets into the driver's side and checks his mirrors. 
"I would hardly call it speeding," Jake complains. 
"It's a number above the speed limit sign. Therefore, it's speeding." You say, explaining it.  
"I literally fly ten times as fast as car speeds. Well, more like 9.9 but still when you round up. It's ten." Jake responds, 
"That is no excuse to be going 120 miles an hour, Jake." You say while rolling your eyes. 
"I'm just saying. I am perfectly capable of controlling a fast vehicle," he argues. 
"That's fine, and I am not invalidating that. However, you know just as well as I do, that everyone else doesn't have that same ability."
"You are so sassy!" Jake teases, clearly deciding to let the faux argument go. 
"I'm the sassy one? Sure," you say sarcastically, drawing out the word. However, you also decide to let it go. Instead you enjoy the start to your drive, getting music going and adjusting the temperature controls until they are just right. 
"So," you say after a bit, drawing out the word. "What are we driving to do?"
"It's nothing," Jake responds with a shrug. 
"Really? Nothing is the justification to wear the work boots you got me?"
"You can't live with a bit of mystery, can you?" Jake asks, but there is affection laid into his words. 
"No," You concede with a joking sigh, "which is what makes you so infuriating sometimes."  
"I do strive to live as a man of mystery," Jake says amused.  
"Oh really, is that what your next move is? Retire, so you can become an American James Bond?" You tease him. 
"I'll admit it. You got me figured out. What gave it away?" Jake asks jokingly but not as quiet as bright as before. You shoot him a look, but his smile is still firmly in place. 
"Honestly?" You ask him hesitantly. 
"Yes Ma'am. They do say honesty is the best policy."  
"It's the fact that you refuse to grow facial hair. I'm convinced that it's because you want to save that for a disguise." You say, almost giggling trying to picture Jake with a beard or mustache. You expect Jake to laugh too, but he doesn't. After a slightly too long pause, he forces out a strangled laugh, and you realize that you've misstepped somehow. 
"Talk about it or leave it?" You offer trying to sound natural and keeping the pushiness you felt gnawing on you out of your voice. Jake takes a deep measured breath, exhaling out slowly through his nose. He drums a staccato on the steering wheel before responding. 
"Can we leave it please?" Jake eventually requests. 
"Facial hair or James Bond?" You ask, wanting to clarify. 
"Both, please." 
"Can do." 
"Thank you," Jake breathes quietly. Then he offers his right hand to you across the center console. You only wait a moment before slipping your fingers to slot in with his. He squeezes your hand affectionately and you both seem to take a deep breath to try and ease some of the uncomfortable tension. Jake's thumb tracing softly against your skin.  
"I'll tell you if you really want to know," Jake says a few miles later while his eyes stay trained on the road. You think about whether you really want to press him for details. As much as you want to know, you don't want to ever force Jake into sharing something with you if he isn't completely comfortable with it. 
"Nope, it's fine. Keep your mysteries, Hangman, I'll find out eventually." You finally respond, pulling Jake's hand up to press a kiss to the back of it, making sure he understood your innocent intentions. He chuckles good naturedly and his hand flexes at the movement, tightening its grasp on yours when you set them on the middle console again.  
"That's good. I appreciate you." 
"I appreciate you more," you tell him sweetly, though you mean it very genuinely. Jake pulls his eyes from the road to flash a heavy frown of disapproval your way. 
"I don't think that's possible," Jake says with passion.
You just shrug, letting the conversation drift to the next topic, just enjoying the drive with Jake. It is a while before Jake pulls off onto a private road that leads up to a massive barn, and you still don't really have any clue where you are or why. Jake throws the gear into park, the truck in park and shoots you an almost gleeful smile. 
"Jake, where are we?" You ask him again. 
"Just my friend's place," he answers.Then,while reaching over and patting your cheek affectionately, says, "You, my sweet, can stay here." 
"Do I have to stay?" You ask him nervously, checking the mirrors on either side of you. You know once Jake leaves the truck and into the barn you won't be able to see him anymore. The idea of being alone here, somewhere you don't know, even in the truck makes you uncomfortable. 
"I just didn't want you to have to walk through all the mud," Jake says. 
"It's okay," you tell him reassuringly. "That's why you had me bring my boots, right?"
"Yes, but you just look snug as a bug. I didn't want to make you move," Jake replies. 
"I don't mind, it will be nice to get out of the car. And I want to meet your friend." 
A moment later Jake is opening your side of the truck and helping you into your boots, tying up the laces for you and ignoring your protests that you are perfectly capable of doing that yourself. Jake helps you out of the truck and holds your hand, helping you walk over the uneven ground carefully. You can smell it before you see it. The fresh woodsy scent permeates the air so heavily that you can nearly taste it. 
Subverting your expectations, Jake does not lead you to the large frame equipment sliding doors of the barn. Instead, he leads you around the nearest side where there is a small typical sized door. Opening the door, Jake reveals a huge workshop. Half of the large barn space is filled with massive logs, planks, boards, and other cuts of wood. The other half is full of various projects, a giant tool bench, and shelving making up an impressive workspace. 
"Oh wow," you breathe taking it all in. You look at Jake and he is positively gleeful, maybe even more excited than a kid in a candy shop. His grin is wide, looking around and leading you a bit further into the workspace. A soft Jingle plays in the air, penetrating the otherwise quiet atmosphere when Jake closes the door behind you. 
"Seresin, that better be you!" A voice calls out from the back of the barn.
"And it if ain't?" Jake calls back playfully. 
"Then you should know, I've got a gun I ain't afraid to use, and you're trespassing." 
You almost let go of Jake's hand in alarm, but he gives you a squeeze reassuring you. He leads you a little further into the warehouse, and a middle aged woman comes in through one of the open doors. 
Jake lets go of your hand to give her a warm hug. She hugs Jake back lightly before pushing him away with a playful shove.
"It's good to see you too, Jess," Jake grumbles, dodging out of the way of her playful punch. 
"Hi, I'm Jess. It's nice to meet you." She says turning to you and offers you a warm smile
You introduce yourself a bit shyly, but feel more confident when Jake's hand slips back into yours. 
"Have you known this pest for long?" Jess asks you while gesturing to Jake. 
"Jess, be nice. I am literally your favorite customer and the son you never had," Jake complains. 
"Paula and I were actually very conscious in our choice not to have children, Jake," Jess says, clicking her tongue at him. 
Jake pouts and you can't help but giggle a little at the sight. "I've known him for a bit, yes," you respond. 
"Well, even if he is annoying, you've found yourself a good man," Jess says. You wait for Jake to correct her. When he doesn't you start to do so yourself but Jess has already changed the subject and started walking to the other side of the warehouse with a gesture for you to follow. 
"So, I got them fresh this week. And just like you requested, I'm letting you have the first freshcut pick, even before me." Jess explains to him. 
"I knew you loved me," Jake gasps grinning wide. Jess huffs out a breath at Jake but doesn't deny Jake's accusation which just makes Jake grin wider. Y'all walk to a pile of grey logs stacked close to the large barn doors.
They start a conversation that completely goes over your head, something about soil conditions, chain lengths, altitude, sap, and other details you didn't know impacted wood. You take this opportunity to look around the shop, and appreciate all the different types of wood and tools. You have only slightly lost focus when you suddenly realize Jake has said your name and is looking at you expectantly. He quickly picks up that you missed the question though, so he repeats it gently. 
"You should pick our first one, Sugar. Juniper was your idea." 
"Oh, I just pick one?" You ask looking at all the logs. Besides the fact they were different widths they all looked pretty much the same to you. 
"Yes, Ma'am," Jake confirms. He leads you to the ends of the cuts and starts talking about grains, and the potential knots and twists that would be in the wood when you cut into it. Jess leaves y'all to decide, saying she'll go grab her forklift to make getting the selections into Jake's truck easier. Jess declines Jake's offer to drive with a snipe about how he isn't forklift certified. Jake's muttered comeback about how he could be forklift certified if he wanted makes you roar in laughter. 
You eventually pick a trunk that overall doesn't look too special, but Jake said it looked like it would be easier to work with because of how sticky the sap was. Jake makes two other selections and also insists on helping Jess get the wood into his truck. 
Jess invited you to an early lunch where you met her wife Paula. Paula had clearly been prepared to host and spent the whole meal fawning over Jake. While Jess might deny treating him like a son, Paula certainly leans into it, and you can tell Jake doesn't mind from the glowing smile that stays on his face the whole time you're at their home.  
As promised Jake had planned time to stop at the farmers market, and an outlet mall, that included a target, where two do some light shopping. Finally picking up Jake's drycleaning on your way home. It's a fun day, and you were thankful you had decided to tag along.
"So Jake, are these for what I think?" You ask him excitedly when you have finally made it home and he is pulling the logs into the garage. 
"It definitely might be. After all, this is fresh Juniper." 
You stare at the grey logs of wood with their mossy, splintering bark that has already made a mess in the garage. Examining the wood you try to compare it with the Juniper you have seen in the past.
"I didn't think it was that color," you tell Jake scrunching your eyebrows together in contemplation. 
"Well, the wood isn't actually grey, just the bark," Jake explains. You watch as he pulls two pairs of work gloves from the workbench. He jerks the larger pair on, you realize with adoration that he had gotten a pair in your size. Jake doesn't hand the gloves to you, rather just leaves them out as an offering if you are interested in participating. The casual no pressure offering makes your chest warm and stomach flutter. Biting your lip you try to contain the grin threatening to split your face before joining him at the workbench and sliding the gloves on. 
Grabbing two chisels, he throws one on his belt. Then he picks up alo with two hammers, hanging both those on his toolbelt as well. You start to get distracted by the way Jake's tool belt sits on his slim hips. 
"Yes. Jess managed to expedite it for us in a special order. I'm so excited. You see, in the spring the sap warms up and it runs through the tree so it allows us to do this –" Jake explains to you. He angles the chisel into the bark, working it in. With a controlled hit from the hammer the flat head sinks in a little bit deeper. Wiggling the chisel makes the bark displace, allowing Jake to grab it and pull it downwards. A long section of the bark comes off before splintering and breaking off the log. The action reveals the light colored, bright, 'green' (fresh) wood underneath. 
"I can tell you've never experienced stripping before," Jake says cheekily while wiggling his eyebrows at you. You feel a bit amazed at the beautiful gem that's been revealed to you. 
"What?" you gasp.  
"Stripping is what this process is called," Jake answers while letting out a full bellied laugh, going so far as slapping his own leg. You roll your eyes at him but can't help your smile and excitement on joining in. 
"Some people strip wood with a power washer, but I think that's lazy. On top of the laziness, it prematurely ages and strips the wood of its natural oils, color, and saps! If we take our time though, we can get a longer lasting, vibrant cut. It's a lot of work, but I promise it will be worth it in the long run." 
Jake takes his chisel and edges it under the bark again. When he pulls the long grey strip of bark gives way with a crunch that sizzles against your ears. Jake continues to slowly peel more away to reveal the fresh color underneath, not pressuring you to join the process at any point. 
However when you do ask to help Jake is patient going over the process with you, explaining the best angle to keep the chisel. He provides steady guidance, only leaving you alone in the process when you tell him that you have a handle on what you're doing. 
You help Hangman strip one of the logs and just as he had said, it is a slow process. It is however extremely satisfying and lots of fun. He puts on a podcast after consulting you to find one you would both enjoy. At one point you accidentally dig your chisel too far under the bark and feel it sink slightly into the 'green' sap softened wood. Your heart drops, and when you peel it back you see that it has pulled a chunk of wood, leaving a gouge in the trunk. You freeze, noticing the damage of the mistake, pulling your eyes to where Jake is working. Just as you start to wonder if there could be a way to fix or hide your mistake, Jake looks over at you with a wide smile that crinkles around his eyes.
"Oh wow," he gasps, the smile falling. Anxiety claws at your throat, and you instinctively prepare yourself for something bad to happen, every muscle in your body tensing in anticipation. Jake's hand gently pushes yours out of the way and dips over the gouge pushing away some of the sap that was springing from the area. Jake clicks his tongue before saying. "Look at this, sugar" 
"I know and–" You are getting ready to spew the best excuse and explanation you can think of before Jake interrupts you. 
"I've seen this color juniper, at least not in person" Jake tells you breathily. You are momentarily surprised that his words do not contain any anger, veiled insults, or condescending tones. Then you remember that this is Jake, so of course you're not going to 'be in trouble'. It takes your eyes a moment to drop down to the thick trunk again. Where you had damaged the wood, it revealed a bright purple streak under the top grain. 
"It's purple," you say, eyes widening. 
"It does look purple does it?" Jake asks excitedly. "That means at the very least that vein will look like that through the trunk. If not all the pigmentation in the grain." 
"So, it's not usually purple?" You ask. 
"Sometimes red, but not purple. This one was a real treasure find, sugarpie" Jake answers. His grin was so wide you were a little worried about his face. However, before you know it, he is sweeping you in his arms and rocking you playfully while saying, "We are going to have to do something really special with this one."  
"Puzzle table," You say as if that was the most obvious answer. That was the whole reason he had gotten all these logs of juniper, after all. 
"Yeah, maybe for the puzzle table," Jake says noncommittally, though as he hums you can tell that won't be the case. He kisses your forehead and mutters a thank you.
Jake gives you another thank you, a little while later, once you two have started to work again. "We wouldn't have known about the color until I went to cut planks and then there would have been a lot less I could do to preserve the color." 
"I made a mistake, Jake."
"Not all mistakes are bad," he says kindly. "Sometimes they are just something that's meant to happen. They have to happen for us to learn something." 
"Says the man who famously never makes mistakes," you grouse back. 
"I make mistakes, but unfortunately, like everything I do, it's to the max. Either the best or the worst," he trails off with a shrug. 
"Because you refuse to be middling?" You ask him teasingly. You aren't surprised when his sharp elbow playfully taps into your arm, and if you bruise later-- it will be worth it.  
"We never should have read and watched Little Women," Jake grumbles. However, his open and light body language make it very clear to you he is being playful. You traced the shape of his dimples with your eyes enjoying the ease they brought to you. They seemed like the perfect place to rest your thumbs on his cheeks. It's nice how Jake comes with a built in guidance system. From his dimples, to the smile lines that will age nicely into kind crows feet all pointing to the freckle-mole by his right eye. You had already mapped out every place you wanted to kiss, given the opportunity. 
"You loved them both," you remind Jake. 
"Of course I did. It is a heart warming, stunning story. But you don't always have to make fun of how I teared up a little bit." Jake tells you, adopting a frown. Teared up was a bit of a down play on what had happened but you didn't call Jake out on that part. It wasn't a bad thing for men to get emotional and cry. 
"I only tease because you were upset about it for the entire next day. Which honestly was so sweet."
"It's not sweet, Sugar." Jake groans. 
"Jake, let's not do this dance," you sigh, rolling your eyes at him and turning back to your work on the trunk. You are much more careful now in how you place the chisel under the bark. In the middle of stripping off the next piece the podcast shuts off and some slow country music replaces it. 
"Now, Sugar," Jake says in an extra thick southern accent that makes you narrow your eyes. He eases in close to you and pulls the chisel out of your hand sliding it in his tool belt. Unbuckling it Jake sets it on the bench. Coming back to your side he takes your hand, delicately. Jake pulls your work gloves from each finger. Intentional and steady, the pads of his fingers brush against your revealed skin. He tosses the gloves to the side as well, and with your now free hands pulls you closer to him, towards the open space in the middle of the garage. 
"What dance exactly don't you want to do?" Jake asks you, starting to sway to the music and encouraging you to join him in the simple steps. Once you do he gleefully spins you in time with the music and draws you back even closer to his chest after. 
Blowing out a sigh you melt into his embrace. Dancing with Jake was different than any other man; he was confident and incharge, firm enough with his hold that there wasn't any space for you to really fall out of step with him, but he left enough room so you didn't feel like he was forcefully dragging you through the steps. He was good about taking the worry of thinking about the steps away from you, allowing you to just enjoy the movement and how his broad body felt pressed so close. 
"The dance where you try to sell some preposterous lie about not being a good man, and I have to convince you otherwise." 
"Ouch," Jake says. You lean back further resisting the hold he has in moving you. Jake doesn't allow the movement though, continuing to step dance to the music guiding you with him. 
"I'm sorry, Jake." you say already feeling a little bad. 
"No, no. I might have deserved that one," Jake answers, as the song wraps up, and you don't know what to say. He doesn't let go of you though, just adjusts his steps, leads his steps into the next one. 
"Let's find a different dance you do like," he says after a bit, shuffling you in his arms. "For example, we know you love the Texas two step."
"Do I?" You ask him with a laugh. 
"Yes, ma'am," He responds confidently, not leaving room to contradict him. "How do you feel about salsa though?" 
Jake turns you around the open space in the garage, going through dances he knows until you are both laughing. When he suggests cooking dinner and watching Dancing with the Stars for some new ideas you readily and happily agree, especially when he reminds you the logs will still be there tomorrow, and there is no real need to rush since you have at least a week until the sap is too dry to easily strip anymore.
"Marlee, your boss isn't going to pass you up for a promotion." 
"Well, she might if I'm pregnant," Marlee responds in a small voice that doesn't match her typical outgoing demeanor. You almost drop your phone but manage to keep your grip tight. 
"Marlene Machado… First of all, that would be illegal, and we would file a report with HR. And secondly, is there something you are wanting to tell me?"
"No!" Marlee says, "I don't know what you're talking about, me pregnant?! That's crazy talk. Maybe you're the one who's pregnant." 
"Okay, honey. Sorry, sorry." You sigh only partly apologetic into the phone. 
"No, I'm sorry." She replies in a quiet voice. "But nothing for sure yet." 
"That's okay, Marls. It's only been a few months of this new medicine."
"Yeah, well um I guess that leads to my next problem."
"What's that?"
"What are your plans for Saturday?"
"I don't have any plans." You say running through your mental calendar to check. 
"Okay, perfect. So, here's what Javy and I are thinking." 
"So Javy is involved?" You clarify. 
"What? Of course, he is!" Marlee says sounding affronted at even the concept of not including her husband, which makes you almost smile for real. 
"Okay, okay," you tell her with a small laugh. 
"We'll pick you up. Then we'll carpool to the airport. Don't worry I already made signs. Then we want to take y'all to Olive Garden."
You distantly hear Javy yelling, "When we are there, we are family."
Marlee takes a moment to giggle, "I'll make sure you and Jake drink a bottle of wine. Preferably one each. Trust me, nothing helps with the ‘we haven't seen each other in six months’ awkwardness better than wine. Then we will drive you two home!" 
You aren't successful in catching your phone this time and it slams to the ground. You're frozen staring down at it, only managing to shake yourself and pick it up when you hear Marlee saying your name in concern. 
"Sorry, the phone slipped. What was that?" 
"Oh no, is it okay?"
"Yeah, it's fine," you answer the pit in your stomach growing till it feels like it might swallow you whole. 
"You don't need help with anything for tomorrow do you?" Marlee asks worriedly. You take a glance around the house. You had worked hard keeping things orderly and together while Jake had been gone. You knew how worried he was that things would change while he was away. It hadn't been easy and there were a few weeks there when you hadn't been able to keep yourself afloat very well. 
"Help with what?" You ask, trying to get her to confirm what you thought you had heard. 
"Any cleaning or organizing or any of that. Groceries so you and Jake don't have to go shop. Javy hates going to the store when he comes home. I guess there is something especially frustrating about them," Marlee trails off. You can tell that she is picking up on your off mood, and of course she was. She probably expected you to be ecstatic that Jake was coming home, and maybe you would have been if you had known about it. 
You realize there isn't a way out of this so you have to concede a truth to her. You bite your lip and let your eyes frantically comb over the house again before finally whispering. "He hasn't said anything to me… about coming home." 
When Marlee answers you can hear she isn't on speakerphone anymore, and asks you quietly, "He hasn't mentioned it at all?" 
"Not a word," you respond solemnly. 
"I'm sorry for ruining the surprise."
"I'm glad you did. I'll definitely want to clean and shop like you mentioned. And as nice as your plan sounded, maybe not this time. You two are the sweetest ever."
"I still feel bad. Are you sure you don't need help with anything?"
"I'm fine, thank you, Marlee!" You were not fine.
"Wait, babes, I'm worried."
"Don't worry. I'll talk to you later, yeah? I love you!" You hang up the phone and stare at it blankly. Trying to process the new information you had just gotten. Looking around the house you realized you weren't even close to ready for Jake to come home.  
You spend all of your free time panicking, cleaning and organizing the house, trying to make sure everything was just perfect for when Jake comes home. You almost had a breakdown when you couldn't remember if the quilt on his bed had been green or dark blue when he left.. The smallest details were haunting you. You had spent nearly an hour working up the courage to erase the chalkboard in the kitchen. Worried that you would forget some of the more important reminders, you erase everything but what you deemed Jake needed to know, like things that had come up concerning the house. It leaves a choppy, oddly spaced list, but you don't think you will have the energy to rewrite it without crying. 
You were asleep when Jake came home. Waking up to sounds that are familiar and yet gone enough that they don't sound right, confuses your tired mind before you are startled into wakefulness, fully placing that for the first time in 6 months someone else is cooking in your kitchen. Your alarm is slightly eased when you check your phone and see a text from Marlee. 
We're here with a gift, come down stairs as soon as you wake up &lt;3
 While you were put at ease knowing some manic axe murderer isn't in your house, you almost feel like you would prefer that to what you now know is waiting for you downstairs. You sit in your room for nearly an hour trying to work out what to do, if you should confront Jake and how to approach it, hoping inspiration or bravery will strike you into moving. It never does though, and instead there is a heavy handed knock on your bedroom door. 
Taking a big gulp, not having the strength to find your voice, you slowly creak the door open. You lift your eyes up and unexpectedly find Javy on the other side of the door. 
"Hey, sleeping beauty!" Javy says cheerfully. It takes you a few deep breaths to answer from your surprise. You don't know what the look on your face is, but the next thing you know, Javy is sweeping you up into a tight hug. You are frozen though, still strung out on what this must mean, that Jake is home. 
"Is he?" You start to ask, but not sure how you actually want to finish the sentence: home, safe, okay, the same. Javy doesn't respond, he just squeezes you harder. You try asking your question again to get an answer. "Is Jake?" 
"Hangman is here," Javy finally confirms. 
"I thought it was going to be this evening."
"Some of his flights got shifted around at the last minute." 
"Oh. And is he..?" You can't finish that question either. 
"He will be okay," Javy says lightly.  
"Will be? So, that means that he isn't okay now." You grimace, worry flooding your chest that is already so full of hurt. 
"It'll all take us some time to readjust and recalibrate. Just don't push him, and more importantly yourself too hard. Okay?" Javy says pulling away from the hug after another squeeze. You nod numbly, not entirely sure you know what he means but it is comforting to know your friend is here. 
When you don't make a move to follow Javy towards the door when he starts to retreat he levels you with a concerned look. 
"Why do you love Jake?" Javy asks, leaning back against your door. 
You open your mouth to protest that you don't love Jake– how can you love someone who willfully hasn't talked to you in 6 months? The words don't come out though, because in spite of it all, you do love him. You love him so much it hurts, and you made that choice even as Jake actively warned you against it. Javy waits patiently for you to respond, which just makes you feel like squirming more. 
"I do not see what that has to do with anything," you try to deflect but Coyote frowns at you and shakes his head.
"It's because he makes you feel better than a million bucks right?" Javy presses on with the question.
"Yeah, sometimes." You concede thinking of how it was before Jake left. 
"Or like you are the most important thing in the room? More important even than him?" 
"Don't know if I love Jake because of that. I think those are just side benefits. I love Jake just by virtue of him being Jake." You say trying to explain how you feel and Javy nods along to your words. 
"I get it," he says. You worry your lip and look at the door again, still not sure you can do this. 
"It's going to be okay. Marlee and I are here to play interference as long as you two need it. Remembering those things you love about him will help get through the rough patch. He is really worried about doing something wrong."
"What do you mean wrong?" 
"I would say he is worried about hurting you." And you had to resist the urge to laugh, because it was already much too late for that. Jake had been hurting you for months now.
"Has something gone wrong before, or is he just scared?"
Javy doesn't answer your question and he avoids your gaze and stares hard at a far wall. "Hangman and I aren't always stationed together." 
"Oh, I see."
"You're going to have to give him some grace and time; he will even out, I promise. If it gets too bad you can always call me, okay?" Javy's eyes meet yours again, and he gives you a sad smile. "I love Jake too, you know."
"Yeah, I know you do." You reassure him. "Thanks Coyote, you are a good friend to him, and me too." 
Javy is then urging you to finally leave your room, opening the door and gesturing for you to step out. He is asking you to be brave, and it's a lot easier to face your fears when you know someone else is there to help, just in case. 
"Hey what's taking so long up there?" Marlee yells up the stairs suspiciously. She must have heard your door open.  
"I am once again begging Javy to run away with me." You yell back to her playfully. Giving Javy one last tight hug and a muttered thank you, he strides confidently down the stairs. Anxiety and nerves eat away at your every step leaving a sour taste on your tongue. You keep your eyes trained on the ground, as you descend the stairs, still not ready to actually see Jake. 
Instead you keep your eyes trailed on Javy where he has automatically drifted to his wife's side and is already wrapping himself around her and kissing her cheek. 
"Well, were you convinced to run away?" Marlee asks her husband, hugging him back, clearly enjoying the joke. 
"No Ma'am, not this time," Coyote answers with a laugh. 
"I wasn't worried," she tells him. "I know there's only one person you would leave me for."
"I would never leave you," Javy responds, dropping the playfulness from his voice. However, Marlee persists. 
"That's not true, we both know if Jake asked, you wouldn't even hesitate." The couple both turn their eyes towards the kitchen, which you realize is where Jake must be. You are frozen on the last step of the stairs, unable to take your eyes off Marlee and Javy, even as they expectantly look back and forth between where you are standing and where he is. 
You decide you aren't brave enough, that you can't actually do this. You need to retreat up the stairs into your room and pack all of your things in order to get out of here as soon as possible. Jake was back now, all the responsibility you had to watch and take care of the house was released from your shoulders. Never facing him again seems like the obvious solution, you don't know why you had never considered it before. 
"I wouldn't ever ask Javy to run away with me, he snores too much," Jake says. His voice tricks your eyes into looking towards the kitchen. Thinking about Jake Seresin and seeing him are two distinctly different things. He is handsome, Jake always has been handsome, but after so long of not seeing him, it's glaring, breathtaking. 
You think you had expected him to change, which doesn't really make sense. Half a year, in the grand scheme of things, really isn't very long. You think maybe his uniform fits him a bit more snugly, that he looks even more fit than before. You weren't prepared… you weren't prepared at all. And now you are stuck because he is looking back at you. Jake blinks at you, and you stare wide eyed, too afraid if your eyes close for even a second he will be gone. 
"Hello. Good morning," Jake finally says. 
"Hi," you squeak. Then you are finally able to take the last step off the stairs and say, "It's good to see you." 
Jake flashes you one of his perfect practiced smiles and a wink. Then he gestures to the bowls and pans in front of him, "I'm making french toast." 
You wait a second, having to choke back a sob threatening to bubble in your chest. Then say, "I'm sure that will be good." 
Javy and Marlee's analyzing the two of you makes the awkwardness press in harder. Gulping, you try to seem casual about walking towards the kitchen. Jake watches you intently. At the last minute you change your mind and veer down the hallway towards the front door instead. 
"Sorry, I just have some errands I need to run," You announce loudly, quickening your step. Fumbling with the locks you burst out the front door, and stand heaving on the front porch. Gripping the railing hard, you lean against it trying to brace yourself. 
A minute later you hear the door open, and you close your eyes tight, wishing you had been smart enough to walk further away. There is a slight clunk against the ground and you see a pair of your shoes next to your feet. 
"Thought you might need shoes," Jake says quietly. Fuck, this hurt so much more than you though it would. You thought having him home would feel like a relief, not a fresh stab wound. You just shake your head, not sure you can say anything. Jake waits patiently but after several long minutes, he breathes out a quiet sigh. 
"Okay. Well. I think I should just apologize and get on with it. I'm sorry, I am so sorry." You can't stop the hitching sob that falls from your throat. 
"I know you didn't love back the same way, but I didn't realize you cared so little about me." 
"That is an inaccurate statement," Jake protests. 
"I don't want us to have a fight Jake." You mumble, nothing about this conversation was making you feel better. 
"Well I do. I want us to have a fight, because you should be mad at me. You should be yelling at me and cursing the ground I walk on. You should've burned down this house!" He exclaims, and you can hear his frustration. You open your eyes to find Jake standing stiff and straight next to the slightly ajar front door. Hands clenched tight, Jake was staring at like you were water and he had been stranded in the desert for days, parched. A direct sighting of his green eyes is all it takes to break your resolve.  
"I can't be mad at you!" You exclaim, throwing your hands up in the air. 
"Why not?" He prods you in a low voice.
"You know exactly why."  
Jake huffs, clenching his jaw he glares upwards, away from you. 
"You don't have to be this saint you know. You don't have to be this perfectly stable person for me because you feel like that's what I need. Please don't let me get away with hurting you." 
"I won't give you the satisfaction," you tell him coldly. 
"What?" Jake asks, his eyebrows drawing together in confusion. 
"I'm not going to give you the satisfaction of confirming that you are the bad guy you've convinced yourself you are. So, what would you like me to say instead?"   
"I guess I want you to listen to the fact that I'm sorry. I'm sorry for how I left, I'm sorry for how I behaved, I—"
"Are you really sorry for what happened between us?" You ask in a small voice. You lower your eyes to look at the ground, not wanting to be too confrontational. 
"Of course I am," he sighs. It's a stab to your heart. You had treasured the long heartbreakingly beautiful evening you had with Jake before he left, and hearing him say he doesn't feel the same is harrowing. 
"Are you—" you start to ask but stop yourself. You ball up all the hurt in your chest trying to rationalize and compartmentalize. Realizing this is another one of those times you had to fill in the gaps. It was time you refocused on the realities at hand. There were no promises besides the one you had made. That you would love him regardless, and continuously. Reminding yourself this fact helps, you could be upset after, later. Every moment actually with Jake should be treasured, this was the first moment you were getting with him in how long and of course you had ruined it. 
"I'm sorry for every other thing I know I should be, and everything I willfully chose not to know too. I'm sorry, and well I want to go on forever. I want to keep telling you I'm sorry every second. So, I'm sorry. I'll say it a million times more. Like you deserve."
"Jake, stop. Sometimes the more times you say something the cheaper the words have become. So let's keep this one valuable. I'm sorry for pushing, and you've said sorry too. We can move on now." 
"I'll just be plain then." He says, though you can tell that the frustration and desperation are still burning hot under his skin. 
"Yes, Jake, be plain. That's the best option for us."
"If we step over lines?"
"We say something, stop and talk about it."
"Okay." He agrees, "We have to talk about the other thing now too."
"What thing?" you ask.
"My question, what happened between us." He says as if he hadn't just told you part of him regrets it. 
"You asked to be selfish with me Jake, and I said yes. I don't regret that, and I'm not mad about what happened. You had my permission and consent for all of it.' 
"I just kept waiting until I knew what I wanted to say, but then I never knew what I wanted to say," he explains. 
"Jake, I really…" You sigh and scrub your hand over your face. "Can we not talk about this right now?"
 Jake nods silently in response. "Okay, Later, then."
"Sure, like when the Machados aren't listening on the other side of the door." You say loudly looking at the front door that was cracked, having no doubt your friends were being nosey. Not that you really blame them, you probably would have done the same thing. 
"Do you still have errands to run?" he asks you. You look out to the street deciding you should at least take a small walk to sort through your thoughts. 
"I'm just going to go on a little walk. I'm sure I'll be back by the time breakfast is done," you explain. 
"Sounds good, sugar. Can I help you with your shoes?" He asks quietly. The only reason you nod your head yes is because you think you might start crying otherwise. 
Jake kneels down and hesitates for a long moment before his large warm hand is on your ankle, helping angle your foot into the shoe. His thumb makes a brushing stroke across the skin before doing the same thing with the other foot. When you get back from your walk, it's awkward. You completely avoid Marlee's attempts to get you to go off and talk with her. Instead, you decide that the best course of action is to pretend that nothing is wrong. You laugh at jokes and ignore how stilted and awkward Jake's conversation is with everyone. Then, after Marlee and Javy linger way too long, before you and Jake finally get them to leave. Once they are out the door and Jake has locked the door behind them, you both let out a sigh of relief. You meet Jake's gaze, both of you offer small smiles. It's the most normal moment you've had all day. 
"Welcome back, Jake." You offer tentatively. "Is there anything I can do for you?"
"I kinda just want to nap," he admits. You part ways at the top of the stairs giving him a strained smile and retreat into your room; Jake's eyes don't leave you until the door is shut firmly in place. 
It's much later that night when you hear some loud banging. You shoot out of your room worried, and realize the banging is coming from the other side of Jake's bedroom door. You knock on it firmly but don't hear a response. 
You knock again and the banging comes to a stop. You try the door and find it locked. 
"Jake, are you okay?" You ask him through the door. 
"I'm fine. Thanks," he yells back. You wait but when you don't get anything more, you have no choice but to leave him be and go back to your room. You don't actually even see Jake again until two nights later. You have been able to tell that he is home but Jake is as elusive as a ghost. 
You run into him next when you open your door one night to get some water before bed. Jake is standing on the other side, holding two water bottles. Part of you has a hunch that he had been standing there for a while. He looks shocked but a little relieved when he sees you. 
"I know I shouldn't be here," Jake starts slowly, taking his gaze off of you and looks down at his feet. 
"No, it's okay that you are here," you stutter slightly. "Is there something you need?" 
Jake nods his head along with your words, his eyebrows drawing together. Then he holds out a water bottle for you to take. "Can I just be here? Here, with you?"
"Of course, always." You say stepping backwards into your room leaving the door wide open for him. You shuffle to your bed and lift open the blankets ready to welcome him there with you. However, Jake drops the pillow he was holding on the floor nearby and lays down instead. 
You want to ask him questions about it but the edge he is on isn't one you want to poke or prod in any direction. While you are still hurt, knowing he is here is safe again, with you is equally as soothing, a small dosage of pain medication. 
"There's plenty of room up here with me too, you know." You decide to casually offer just in case. 
"It's too soft for me right now."
"I just thought I would offer," you say lightly. 
"I can't sleep. It's the worst part. Everything is too quiet and too still and at the same time not quiet or still enough. I think I might go insane." He explains in a low voice. 
"What can I do? What do you need?" You ask sympathetically. 
"Can we talk about it?" Jake asks hopefully. 
"No, Jake. We can't," You sigh and hear him sigh in frustration. 
"Someday, at some point, we are going to have to talk about it," Jake says so carefully you know he is consciously holding back the taunting frustration he wants to put into the words. 
"No, we really don't," You contradict him. 
"Sweets," Jake responds, sounding wrecked. 
You think you should give into him again. You should allow Jake to talk his heart out and seek penance from you. How this should be a time when you are strong for him. However, as much as you want to give Jake the world, there must be times that you curl around your own heart to try and shield it from hurt. 
"Listen, Jake. I don't need to know why you didn't talk to me while you were gone. No matter what your explanation is, it's going to hurt my feelings. So, I would rather not know. Please, let me pretend something a little kinder." 
He is silent, so very quiet for so long you almost wonder if he has left. Evaporated from existence, that he never came home at all, and you've been living an elaborate hallucination. You turn on your side just to check in the soft lamp light that Jake is still laying on the floor. 
"You should have said no to me before I left. It would have saved us both a lot of grief I think." 
Jake's words feel like a punch in the gut, rattling around like a wrecking ball, leaving a bloody massacre behind. With a heavy blown out breath you say, "No it wouldn't have."
"No, it wouldn't have," he sighs in agreement. 
"It would be nice though, if we could go back to before." 
"Before?" He asks. 
"Yes," you say, clutching your blankets tight. "If I could pretend that you never got orders and didn't leave. I would jump to that in an instant. 
"You want to pretend nothing happened?" 
"Isn't that an idea?" You huff a small broken laugh at the ridiculousness of it.
"What if I don't remember exactly how things went before?" Jake wonders. 
"Jake, I wasn't serious," you say cautiously.  
There are several long minutes of silence where you wait for him to say something. Finally, you hear Jake let out a long heavy audible groan while shifting. "If you don't want to talk it out. Pretending is probably our best option then. Otherwise, what are we going to do, sweets?" 
"Sugar," You correct automatically. 
"Hmm?" 
"You usually call me sugar, or honey. Not sweets" 
"Ah, that's right, and darling. I got it mixed up because you're so sweet to me."
"I'll help you. If you don't remember how it goes." 
"Thank you," he says. And you can't believe he is actually agreeing to this idea, or really that you are either. 
"Do you not like sweets?" Jake asks eventually. 
"It's fine enough, I guess." You answer as lightly as you can. Then you go through another bout of silence. You nervously play with the edge of a blanket hoping that this tension with Jake will ease. It's always gone away in the past, but that was also before. 
"That's what you want then? Tomorrow, we go back?" Jake asks again. 
"Yes, tomorrow," You confirm. 
"Sugar?
"Yes, Jakers?"
"Can I ask you a question?" He asks. You laugh lightly, feeling a bit of the nervousness ease at his tone which has become much lighter. 
"I never understand why people say that. Aren't you already asking a question?" Jake chuckles low in his chest in amusement. He doesn't follow along with the joke though, just leaves it there hanging in the air. 
"The answer is yes," you tell him casually. 
"You don't know what the question is." 
"Yes, you can ask me a question," you clarify in a whisper. Jake makes some rustling sounds and you hear him come closer to you.
"Are you sure that bed is big enough for two?" He asks. 
"Why don't we find out?" You laugh feeling more at ease. 
With a nod Jake crawls onto bed and turns to face you on his side. However, he doesn't scoot in close like you expect. He is stone still on the other side of the bed, laying on top of the covers, only shifting his pillow once. 
"What would you do, if I told you the last time I said yes, it had an extended warranty?" You ask while turning on your side to face where you are in the bed now. 
"How long are we talking about here?" Jake asks. 
"Unfortunately, I think it expires some time tomorrow." You watch Jake work his lip in contemplation, while examining your face closely. 
"Why would you let me be selfish with you again?" 
"I think it's because we are selfish. Maybe it's a little bit because I don't want the memory of the last time I tasted you to be bitter." 
Jake rolls away from you onto his back, blinking rapidly at the ceiling. "Stop letting me take things from you."
"We both deserve a night where we are selfish with each other, I think." You tell him reaching across the gap between you. You set a hand on Jake's cheek ignoring the prickly stubble there. 
"To have you and let you go again the next day would be torture," Jake says all while leaning into your touch. 
"Just a kiss this time," you offer, urging him by his cheek to come a little closer to you. 
"It was supposed to be just a kiss last time too." Jake's eyes are bright where they burn into yours. He inches a little closer and you lean forwards as well, reducing the gap between you two that much more until there is just a miniscule space now.  
"I know," You answer against his lips, letting your hand slip into his hair. Jake's lips move with yours crowding in close, like he is trying to breathe all of you into himself and commit you to memory. 
"Maybe, it can be more of a promise?" Jake eventually gasps. 
"A promise?" You question. 
"A promise not to hurt you like this again," Jake answers.
"That's not an easy promise to keep," you warn. 
"That's true, but I'm willing to try anyway." He kisses you again and dips his tongue into your mouth. Jake swallows your little whimpers; he tastes just as good as he always has. It's very easy to be selfish with Jake "Hangman" Seresin.  
It's a slow road to trying to get back to normal. Jake circles around the house like he is lost. Picking things up and setting them down, starting conversations with you and leaving halfway through them. Shadows stretch across his face and his increasingly dark stubble and facial hair. You are a little surprised to find that he doesn't have a red beard like most blonds do. The facial hair only serves to make him look increasingly gaunt.
Jake even denies your offer to start a puzzle together, telling you that wasn't something he could handle at the moment. You try not to seem like you were watching him like a hawk, but you definitely are. Until one day he stood up from the table in the middle of dinner and announced that he was going camping. 
"Oh okay. Do you know how long?" 
"Yeah," Jake sighs, "I'll be home before next weekend, and I promise you when I get home I'll be normal again."
"You don't have to be any which way for me Jake," you tell him gently. 
"I know, but I need to do this for me too, sugar." He explains while putting away dishes. You watch him complete the task; Jake is antsy even with his hands occupied. None of the projects or tasks he has picked up since being home have been enough to occupy him with real distraction. Two days ago, you had walked into the garage where Jake had rigged up his camping hammock to the ceiling which you felt like he was swaying precariously 8 feet off the ground. On top of that Jake had music blasting, a documentary on Yosemite playing, while also whittling a piece of wood. 
"Okay. I'll miss you." You eventually say. Jake purses his lip, and after a heavy gulp he nods his head. Once the last of the dishes is away he spins on his heel and heads towards the garage door. 
You hurry after him, "Jake?"
"Yes, sugar?" He asks, not pausing his trajectory. 
"Are you leaving right now?" You ask him surprised. 
"Yes, I packed earlier today."
"Can I have a hug before you go?" You ask him hesitantly. 
Jake freezes. He rubs his hands across his face pressing briefly into his eyes while sighing a very soft "Fuck." Then he turns to you fully looking abashed. "Yeah, sugar. What do you need before I go? I'm sorry I should have asked that first."
"No, it's no big deal. Honestly." You tell him backing off not wanting to be too much. Jake shushes you softly while stepping closer. 
"Tell me how it goes. I need to remind myself about this part."
"Well," you start off hesitantly, "normally I would get a hug goodbye." 
"Ahh," Jake hums, "that's right. And I do that part like this?" Jake wraps you in his arms, draping them high on your back. You wait a moment before draping your arms around his neck.
"How's the next part going again, sweets?"
"You squeeze my waist a little harder and lower." Jake follows the direction his arms tightening around you drawing you flush against his chest. 
"Now?" He whispers. 
"You would probably kiss my forehead."
"Just your forehead?" Jake asks breathily. 
"I'll leave that one up to you, Jake." He unwraps a hand from your waist to hold the back of your neck, keeping you steady. 
"And if I want to kiss somewhere else?"
"You've got my permission Jake," you tell him trying to keep want and desire out of your voice. Jake parts his lips and leans in closer brushing his lips to grace over your cheekbone. 
"You can have it, Jake," you remind him.
"No," he answers and closes his eyes. "Not again, not yet. I'll be home in a few days."
Once Jake leaves you know there is something you have to do to help him. It's an idea that gets stuck in your head and then you can't get it out. He had been spending time daily in his hammock in the garage, and you noted that Jake had taken it with him when he left. You missed how he used to casually be in the living room, so you started brainstorming some ideas on how you might entice Jake to join you again. 
So, you go to the kitchen and pull out the rolodex, find the card dedicated to Miss Celeste and give it a call. Russell answers the phone, and you can hear the man smiling through the phone as you ask after his wife. It turns out Jake's grandmother is just as blunt but kind hearted as you had been led to believe. After a longer conversation with her, she and Russ offer you some advice and tips
You aren't wholly sure how you managed to get it all done. Eventually having to call Coyote to help you move some of the living room furniture. However, after significantly less sleep than you already get, there is a large comfy hammock in the living room. You and Javy had to sandwich Jake's large comfy chair much closer to the couch than it was previously, but y'all managed to make it all fit. 
Jake comes home from camping quietly late one night. The stubble he had been supporting before is a full-on beard now, and his hair is longer than you have ever seen it. This look is intimidating to you in lots of ways, like some mirrored version of Jake that you don't know. He offers. quick hello when he comes in from the garage, breezing past you and towards the stairs.  
Jake doesn't make it to the stairs though instead he stands frozen at the edge of the living room for five whole minutes just staring at the hammock. You watch him closely, trying to gauge his reaction. 
"It's a surprise for you." You say after the amount of time he is standing there increases to a concerning duration. Compelled to do something you explain, "I know your hammock has been one of the only places you have been able to relax."  
"This is very sweet. I appreciate it." Jake starts evenly. It's contradictory as you see him grit his teeth, and his fists clench and unclench at his sides. 
"You don't like it?" You ask him.
"It's not that," Jake tries to explain. "It's just you can't randomly switch the living room around and add new furniture like this." 
Your mouth drops open in shock. This might be one of the first times Jake has ever told you there is something you can't do in the house. It's jarring, he has always spent so much time tailoring everything to your likes, desires, and aesthetics that you hardly even think about the house as Jake's and Jake's alone anymore. Frustration bubbles under the shock twisting into anger at the situation. You were trying your best, doing all the things you thought you should, and it still didn't seem like enough. 
"That is so rich coming from you for so many different reasons Jake." You say agitated, rolling your eyes. 
"Why are you upset?" Jake asks you, finally looking away from the living room. 
"Why are you upset?" You parrot with emphasis. 
"Well, what did you expect? I left for a few days and now there is a hammock in the living room. That's an outdoor item you brought indoors," Jake responds snappily. It pushes you right against an edge that you are unfamiliar with living on now. You had forgotten how it was to live in a hyper aware state, trying to manage and monitor someone else's emotions. 
"You act like you haven't done the same thing," you tell him, gesturing frustratedly at the juniper chest. "I was doing something nice for you. However, if you don't like it, I'm sure you're more than capable of taking it down and moving your furniture back and fixing your living room."  
You leave Jake in the living room and go to the kitchen. He grumbles to himself upset which makes you feel even more on edge. However, you refuse to let Jake blowing back into the house prevent you from finishing the dishes you had been stacking and putting away. 
"It's our living room," he finally calls back to you.
"You aren't acting like it."
"You could have given me some warning," he reasons, but it has a slightly accusatory tone. 
"When Jake?" You ask him, upset. "When you called me and told me you were coming home? When you text? How exactly was I supposed to let you know?"
He doesn't have an answer and you slam the door of a cupboard harder than you intend. Inside, the stack of bowls were more precariously placed than you thought. The cupboard closes and bounces back open, the bowls ejecting and crashing hard against the ground. Several of them shatter when they make impact, sending ceramic shards flying across the area. 
You aren't expecting the sound to trigger you. It most likely does because of how high strung and worried you already are. The house is such a safe comforting space you don't really have a game plan for when PTSD attacks hit you here. A chill makes its way up your spine, while the sound of shattering glass rings echoing in your ears, for much longer than it echoes in the room. It's all it takes for some flip to switch in your head. 
Managing to take small gasping breaths, you try to assess the damage of the sharp ceramic pieces around you, categorizing how many bowls had broken. It doesn't help you to fight off sudden panic that is creeping in when you notice one of the destroyed bowls was one Miss Celeste had made for Jake. It was a soup bowl stamped with a silly song Jake liked to sing anytime he used it. Distantly you hear Jake calling your name but can't fully process it. He is stepping towards you, fear rings through your body, and instinctually you go to step back away from him. Flinching hard every one of your muscles feels like it's attached to a live wire. Your fight or flight mode activated but you are still mostly frozen in the middle with short panting breaths, your eyes flit across the room trying to find a suitable escape path. 
"Sugar, please don't move. Just stay right there. It's okay." Jake is repeating, holding his hand up, showing you his open body language. Your breaths continue to come out gasping, but eventually you are able clear the cloudiness up enough with the help of Jake's soothing.  
"Jake, help," you whimper. Training your eyes on Jake you think that he is the only available escape, from the glass around you and this attack. At your words, his whole face shifts overcome with a serious ‘get things done’ demeanor.
"Are you hurt?" He asks calmly. You can't answer him just offering a shaking shrug. "Stay right there for me, Sugar. Okay?" 
Jake is shoving his feet into some boots, then crunching through the broken ceramics and glass before picking you up. He carries you to the living room, setting you down on top of the closed puzzle table. Once you are there, he kneels in front of you. Picking up each of your feet, Jake carefully examines them for injury. Then gives the rest of your body a scan; he is clearly relieved to find that there weren't any cuts. 
"Wait here." He orders you gently, walking back to the kitchen and setting about cleaning the mess. 
"I can clean that," you try to tell him in a weak attempt for Jake to stop.
"You just stay there looking pretty and take some breaths, sweets." He responds from the kitchen. You decide to give in, which is probably for the best with the way the numb panic is still very present at the edge of your consciousness. Your heart is still beating erratically as well. 
Jake is expedient and thorough about cleaning, going through the whole kitchen and dining room with his shop vacuum searching for any hiding slivers. When finished he makes his way to the living room and crouches by your side again sighing heavily. 
"I'm sorry," he says, setting his large warm hands on your knees.
"I'm sorry," you apologize as well. "I should have waited and asked you before changing the living room."
"You don't need to ask. I've just been on edge and wasn't expecting it. I do appreciate the thought. And you know I do love hammocks so, I'm sure I'll love it."
"We don't have to keep it," You remind him.
"We are taking it for a trial run," Jake responds. Then a few moments later he lets out a heavy sigh and says, "You know we are doing it all already, right?" 
"What's that?"
"It" Jake says gesturing with his free hand in the air. "We fit together. We're," Jake takes the slightest pause, his hand grips yours so tight you almost ache, then he drops it completely. "A bridle joint or maybe, a box joint." 
"We aren't ever going to fit with anyone else are we?" You ask him, clarifying. 
"No, we aren't. I think it might just be this, Sugar. It's just us." Jake says the words like a confession, an admission, an honest reality. 
You try to analyze the look in his eyes, but over anything else all you can focus on is how tired he is. You pick Jake's hand up again. Standing from the couch, pulling him with you. Jake asks no questions; he just follows you as you guide him. You tug him with you to each of the doors as you make sure each one is locked, jiggling them to be sure. Then he follows you to the kitchen as you grab two of his glass water bottles. You hand one to him and take his, gripping it tightly while his other hand remains loose in yours. 
You keep leading him then as he follows you up the stairs. Finally, You open the door to his room, and freeze in the doorway. A gasp catches in your throat. It's empty. The whole room. Not a mattress or a bedframe, no side tables or a dresser. It's all gone. There is one chest, a basket with some blankets, and one pillow. Jake stands close behind you, and you hear him audibly sigh into your ear. 
You take a deep breath to steady yourself and pull Jake through the room, leaving no room to address the issue and heading straight to the bathroom. You turn on the water for the bath and let the tub start filling. Turning to Jake and finally, let go of his hand. He looks lost at you, and you bring your hand up to lift his chin up a little higher. Jake takes your direction and those gorgeous sea-glass green eyes look at you. 
You tug at his shirt twice before he follows the movement and pulls it off. You step out of your own pants but otherwise stay clothed. Jake follows you sliding off his jeans. You go to Jake's bath chest still in place and grab a scent you think will be soothing, adding it to the bath. 
You reach to pull down his boxers, and he shakes his head in a small no. When you start to pull off your shirt, Jake's hands stop you there too. He gives you a pleading look, and you shrug back, leaving your shirt in place. You motion for Jake to get in the bath, and he wordlessly does as you say. Making room for you between his knees, Jake scoots until he hits the back of the tub. You step into the warm water and slide down to settle in.  
Jake's head falls forward so his forehead presses into the space where your shoulder and neck meet, taking deep breaths. You shudder, feeling the air of his breath against your neck. Jake's large hands are gripping the side of the bathtub hard. You are shocked that the feeling of the wet clothes sticking to your skin hasn't rocketed you out of the bathtub. But like it often is, it's hard to focus on anything that's not Jake when he is this close to you. 
After a while, when Jake lifts his head and leans back, you do as well, leaning into his chest, his arms slide around you, pulling you even closer, as you draw imaginary designs on one of his forearms. 
"What's it mean for us?" You finally ask him. 
"I'm worse than I was before," Jake says to you quietly. 
"Before me?" And that actually makes you want to cry because it sounds so true. Things certainly would have been less variable without you around in Jake's life. No one to throw him off his routines. And before him weren't you better able to protect your heart better than this? You had been calloused and strong before. Living with Jake and in this house has been like a fine grit sandpaper buffing you so now you only have smooth soft edges. 
Has that been the way it's been between the two of you this whole time, something bad that was disguised as good? You can't come up with an answer, and apparently, neither can he. So it sits there, wilting, rotting between the two of you.
The silence is loud and almost echoes in the bathroom, with no room to hide. You finally take one of Jake's hands in yours and play with his fingers. He seems content with this, relaxing even further into the water. One of his knees occasionally bumping into you playfully, as if you could forget that he was there, as if there were anything besides Jake on your radar. 
Then he is whispering your name against your neck, right behind your ear. Gooseflesh bursts across your skin, and his beard is coarse and scratchy against your sensitive skin not having been trimmed once since it started growing. You try to shift away but his lips follow you. Tired of the game you reach a hand behind you and fist it into Jake's long hair, tightly tugging his face away from your neck. Jake gasps in response. 
You drop your hand feeling like he has been sufficiently warned from the action, which you know would have descend into tickling. Jake grabs your wrist and turns it, and then ghosts his lips over your pulse point. After two more soft kisses there he presses three to your palm, and on each finger. Each press of his lips is intoxicating even in a place as insignificant as your hand. With your ring finger Jake's kisses are three times as long and lingering. It's an action that has you slamming your eyes closed to keep the tears from escaping. He finally releases your arm and you drop your hand back into the warm water. 
Something starts to thaw out there, in your chest. The combination of the physical warmth of the bath and Jake's blazing body heat. However, it is the feeling, the emotional warmth of it that makes the difference. You tremble slightly feeling completely overwhelmed, the idea of being anywhere else or trying to move is devastating to your system. 
"Sugar pie?"
"Yes, Jakobi?" You answer back just as quietly 
"We haven't been doing so good, have we?"
"No."
"Our mental health?"
"Positively dismal. We both probably need to be institutionalized." You tell him. Jake nods along, in understanding with your words. 
"Do you think I could convince them to let us be roomies there too?" 
"Not sure even you could swing that one, honey." You respond. Jake's eyes and whole face positively light up moments after you say the words. 
"Honey?"
You hum thinking it over before smiling and nodding, "Yup."
"But that's my nickname for you," Jake says in a pouting tone but the bright expression he is wearing hasn't dimmed. 
"Yeah, and sugar, darling, babycakes, anything related to pie—"
"I called you Huckleberry pie once and—"Jake protests but you barrel onwards cutting him off. 
"Well no more honey for you anymore. You use half the sweet names under the sun, I'm allowed to have one. And I think it's honey." You cup Jake's scratchy bearded cheeks and smile softly. "You're my honey, now." 
"Why honey?"
"Because you're so sweet."
"I'm not," Jake says brokenly, all playfulness having been sucked out of him. His head is heavy in your palm as he eases into your hold.
 "You're sweet," you repeat more firmly. Then continue, "Plus I can just imagine how snug and happy you would be in those honey combs."
"Hexagons are one of the superior shapes," Jake sighs.
"Sure they ar, and you are golden like honey." You run your fingers through Jake's hair again. He shutters hiding those sad green eyes from you.  
"I never knew just how blond the sun could make your hair," You sigh when you reach the end, scratching back up his scalp to repeat the process. You are turned fully to face him now, sloshing the water a bit to settle more comfortably. However Jake doesn't move, he seems almost as if he could be a statue made of glowing gold. 
"This tan also makes no sense," you tell him, trailing your hands over his shaped shoulders. 
He squints a single eye open at you, and you freeze as if you've been caught. Instead Jake's hand's pull your knees to settle on either side of his hips. Dragging you that much closer to him. It makes your breath hitch and Jake's eyes darken, however, he still leaves a bit of space. 
"One of my grandpas was Italian," Jake says with a quirk of his lips. The single eye he had opened closed as the smile melted off his face. Your hands resume their path, after massaging Jake's shoulders you knead his neck. Which just leads to playing with his hair again. Your train of thought was lost until you noticed a small light but fresh scar on the top of his bicep. You lean forward and  gloss your lips over the skin there. Jake's hand tightens where he is holding your thighs. He takes a careful breath in through his nose, and a long exhale. He follows that up with two more shallow but steady breaths and then just like that the tension releases from his body as he releases the air out.
"Where did you learn how to breathe like that, cowboy?" You ask him, letting your thumb continue to trace the strange new scar you have been examining. 
"Oh, so, I'm cowboy now?"
"Mr. Cowboy, my honey." You coo back. Jake's eyes flutter open again, he blinks slowly at you heavily lidded.  
"You are avoiding the question." You prompt him by raising an eyebrow. 
"It's not as bad as you're probably thinking," Jake answers a moment later. 
"I'm thinking, you did a whole summer of Vipassana, and meditation in some foreign country that made you have concerns about being that white guy(™)."  
As his lips lift in response to your joke, you think Jake's dimples are some of the prettiest things in this world. Suddenly, you find it unacceptable that his beard hides any part of them from your view. You see the hint of them but it's not the same you think as you trace the shape of one. Your left hand remains pressed over the new scar you had discovered. 
"We both know I could never do vipassana."
"I have evidence to the contrary," the words fall from your lips before you can stop them, and you regret them instantly. 
"Don't be mean to me," he begs you. In the same breath he speaks the words you are already halfway through saying, sorry.
"I'm working on leaving it I promise," You tell him.
"We don't have to leave it, we could talk about it." Jake suggests hopefully. 
"We are leaving it Jake," you say back sharply and he snaps his mouth shut chewing at the side of his cheek for a moment before responding. 
"Okay. I know I hurt you deep, and it's still fresh," Jake responds. His jaw clenches and you feel it jump.  
"So, it wasn't meditation? Is this going to be another riveting USNA story?" You ask him, steering the conversation back on a lighter track. 
"It was before Annapolis."
"Tell me more," you laugh, dropping your hold on his face, leaning forward and resting your check against his bicep.  
"You're going to laugh at me," he pouts.
"I find that an entirely likely probability," you answer teasingly. 
"I had to take friendship classes in middle school." 
"I'm sorry, you did what?" You ask Jake to repeat, trying to process this bit of information. 
"This other kid and I hated each other, and we were constantly getting into it. The worst part is we had lockers right next to each other. He accidentally hit me with his locker, and I lost it. So, I slammed his head right back and we started brawling. Anyways, long story short, our school counselor made us take friendship classes, and taught us breathing techniques. It was all bull shit, but we ended up being friends afterwards, bonding over how stupid friendship class was."
"At least you got some good breathing techniques." 
"Something like that," Jake laughs back. 
"What's this one then? It's new." you say ghosting your lips over the scar you had found again. Jake sighs, glancing at the scar himself. 
"You are going to be mad," he starts. 
"Why would I be mad, honey?"
"I got two more moles removed." The admission makes you pull back and give Jake a weary suspicious glare. 
"Have you not been wearing sunscreen again?"
"No, I've been wearing sunscreen ever since you told me about it, I promise. The Doc just asked about one of them and wanted to do a biopsy. So, I said he might as well just take them all off while he was at it."
"And?" 
"Everything came back benign. Nothing to really worry about, Sugar."
"I always worry about you, Jakers." You sigh with relief and kiss that scar again, enjoying the feeling of having your head pillowed on his arm. 
"I know, I'm sorry." Jake whispers back. You wish he had just left it as I know. 
"I don't want to make you worse, Jake."
"You don't make me worse. I am worse, no one has ever inspired me to act quite as selfishly as you have. I don't even know how to wholly be anymore without you." 
"I just want to make things better for you." 
Jake groans quietly, "Maybe someday it will finally click that you make everything better. That you are stunning, and gorgeous, and just over all the best." 
"We could clear cut a forest, and not find a single tree that's sappier than you Jake." It inspires a quirk of his lips but not the laugh you were hoping for.
"You are probably right," is all Jake says back, continuing to trace shapes into your skin. It's quiet for a long time as you two just exist together, coming down from the emotional turmoil of the night. 
Eventually, You ask, "Jake, where are you?" 
"I don't know. I don't know, Sugar," He sighs and tilts his head back letting out an exhausted breath. 
"Are you in the clouds?" You ask. He thinks before shaking his head no. 
"Are you on the ocean?"
He feels the water around him briefly then settles his hands on your skin again. "It doesn't appear so."
"Are you on base?"
"No." 
"So, where are you?"
"I know I'm here with you sugar, it just doesn't feel real." Jake answers. 
You examine him closely from his wet hair to the defined muscles of his shoulders and neck. How much muscle Jake gained deployment almost pushed him into a category you would describe as too buff, but not actually going over the edge. As you trace the shape of his face you can easily identify what one of the problems is. 
"You are being suffocated," you tell him as your fingers trace up his cheeks and around through his hair there.
"Why do you have a beard Jake?" You ask in a gentle curious tone. 
"I don't have to shave until I go back to work."
"You should shave sooner," You say encouragingly. 
"Too tired," Jake says, stretching out one of his legs in the water. 
"Do you want help?"
"You want to give me a shave, sugar?"
"I'd be willing to give it a go if you feel like it would help," you answer plainly. He thinks about it before nodding. 
"It would." 
That's all you need to hear before you are stepping out of the bath. Immediately you hate how the wet material of your shirt clings to your skin. So, you quickly rip it off and throw it into the shower. Jake groans behind you and you point a finger back at him while grabbing fresh towels and Jake's shaving kit from beside the sink.  
"It's nothing you haven't seen and you can control yourself," you chastise him. 
"But you are so fucking beautiful," Jake groans making absolutely no effort to hide the way his eyes trace over your body. 
"You were two minutes from falling asleep."
"That was before," Jake whines as you come back to the bath and he sees you in even more detail. 
You set the shaving kit to the side within easy reach and settle yourself back into the water. You sit so your bare chest is pressed against his. This makes Jake close his eyes throwing his head back  whispering a quiet "Fuck."
When his eyes open again, they are slightly dilated with lust. It makes you smile at him whispering, "hi there." 
"Hi," he breaths back.
"Hi," you say again, smiling wider. Jake can't stop himself from smiling as well, lips drawn upwards. His hands trace up your bare sides and you give him a small glare. Grabbing his chin you tilt his head back once more. 
"Yup, hold yourself just like that," You tell him, pausing to make sure he doesn't move. You start to lather up some shaving cream spreading it along this neck. 
"Have you shaved someone else before?" Jake questions. 
"Not really. So, you might want to give me pointers. I don't want to cut your pretty face." You answer with a teasing tone. 
Jake hums in acknowledgement thinking for a long moment. Then he starts to detail the intricate shaving ritual he normally keeps. You follow each one of the steps. It's a slow process, shaving him. You are worried that you will cut him or make some other mistake in the process. Jake isn't hesitant or shy about giving you sweet and gentle encouragement. 
Finally, Jake's face is free of hair again. You help wipe away the remaining product, and dab on the aftershave in his kit you brought over. Jake winces but gives you a tentative smile when you stare at him examining your work. You smile back softly, setting things down that are in your way, feeling relieved to be done. 
The two of you finish your bath before getting out and drying off. Wrapping a towel around yourself, you head back to your room changing and settling into bed. Jake follows not long after in a pair of comfy pants and a soft muscle shirt. He asks if he can join you in bed even though you already pulled the covers back while waiting for him. 
Jake takes a bit of shifting to get comfortable until he is laying on his side facing you, meeting your gaze as you shift to see him better. You lift a hand to cup his face enjoying the fresh smooth skin there. 
"Ah, there he is," you say with a soft sigh. The lines of Hangman's face are prominent and easy to follow again. A tear spills from Jake's eye and you push it away gently. Leaning forwards Jake angles his lips to barely brush over yours before he pulls back. 
"Please?" You ask him, going to follow his lips for more. 
"I don't think we should," Jake responds and snuggles his face into your neck to avoid the temptation of your lips. 
"But we fit. We fit perfectly," you whisper. 
"That's exactly the problem," Jake answers. "I won't do wrong by you again. And that means I don't want to rush anything. Are you in a hurry?"
"Does that have a timeline?" You ask, ignoring your frustration. 
"It does in a general sense."
"Care to share?"
"Sure," Jake mutters tiredly into your neck. "I think it's been going for a while. Right?"
"That's right," You answer, letting your hand drift into his long hair. It is almost all the way dry now and fluffy. He had a haircut scheduled before he started work again leaving you only a few days left to savor this. His eyes close, and a small smile graces his face. With a gentle scratch of your nails against his scalp a tiny whine tumbles out of him. Jake seems too tired to care anymore. His nose just nuzzles your neck, and he places a tiny kiss there. You sigh, and resume playing with the silky strands. 
"And how long before we have it all figured out, Honey?" You ask. 
"As I see it, the rest of our lives. So, give or take sixty-ish more years."
"We are making it the long haul huh?"
"Yes, Ma'am. We will, so there's absolutely no reason to start at a sprint." 
"I thought you had a need for speed." You tell him teasingly. 
Jake huffs into your neck, sucking in a deep breath he blows it out slowly tickling your skin. "I have a great comeback for that."
"Oh really?" 
He hums in affirmation. Then he sleepily manages to crack an eye open and looks at you, while he mumbles, "But I am a sleepy boy. Wait, no…  a sleepy man"
You chuckle and kiss Jake's forehead. "Goodnight, sleepy boy"
"Sleepy man," he tries to correct you, but the words are hardly coherent. It takes less than five minutes before Jake is fully asleep, and you aren't far off yourself. Jake is so warm, and itis so easy to match your breaths with his deep even ones. Falling into a dream where you spend sixty years with Jake, even there in your dream you realize that still might not be enough. 
… 
Read the rest of this chapter on AO3. Sorry again, Tumblr wouldn't let me put it all here (and that it's so long). My first reblog of this here on Tumblr has the other half as well.
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iceunhie · 9 months ago
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@ ICEUNHIE'S BLOG RULES !
» content: writing, engaging, rambles, asks, etc. the whole shebang
DO NOT INTERACT WITH ME IF: you are homophobic, transphobic, actively hate and engage in discourse and start drama that can harm others, racist, and if the basic dni criteria apply to you. i will not hesitate to block you.
— WRITING !!
➣ all my works are exclusively and strictly sfw, however, suggestive and implied content will be marked appropriately followed by an age limit.
( side note : do not interact, comment or reblog the post if you don't meet said age limit. )
➣ scroll away from my blog immediately if you intend to bring discourse/drama/hate. i do not need that kind of negatively, nor do i ask for it. save that hate for yourself.
➣ my writing consists of a horrendous mix of gender neutral/genderless readers, with the occasional female reader on the side that will, rest assured, be appropriately tagged as such; my work is meant for any orientation to enjoy! i also refer to my readers as either [name] or y/n.
➣ spoilers in any of my content will be marked and shown appropriately!!
➣ most of my work isn't proofread and capitalization isn't consistent, so sorry for that 😞😞
➣ my fics will occasionally feature grammatical errors and proofreading mistakes as well as dubious wording (☠️) as english is not my first language. pls bear with that T_T
➣ my readers often have a little bit of a personality in them! ill add random quirks and small details (habits, jobs and goals) about them that helps contribute with their dynamic/plot with the character. they may not be targeted to the audience most of the time, so i do hope you can still enjoy my work </3
— INBOX RULES & ASKS!
➣ PLEASE don't vent/traumadump on my inbox, it makes me uncomfortable and unsure of how to respond, so please just don't.
➣ again, for the love of everything good in this world; i don't accept requests, most especially request sent in during a period I'm unable to actually attend to them. there are periods in time when i may open them for milestones, but aside from that, you aren't getting anything from me, i apologize 😓
➣ i really love talking and interacting with people, despite how introverted my blog may look lol, so if you ever want to say something to me, do send me an ask (⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)—♡
➣ i really try to answer asks as fast as i can, but there are some i gatekeep because they make me feel happy reading them hehe.
➣ if you're wondering why i don't answer brainrot asks, it's probably because i'll use the idea soon too or that life got the best of me. im sorry 😭
DO NOT, under any circumstances, use and repost my work or use it for AI purposes or anything associated with AI.
— ABOUT (M)HI(E) (get it?)
➣ i follow selectively and block liberally. blank blogs that have no reblogs in them or pfps will be blocked.
➣ do not spam like my fics/works; if you're enjoying my content, a reblog or a comment along with that will go a long way, more than likes!
➣i will hardblock/softblock mutuals if you've crossed any of my rules and/or have made me uncomfortable. while i'm not required to reveal the reason for breaking the mutual, please send an ask off anon so i can explain and talk about it in private.
thank you so much for reading my rules! here is my MASTERLIST at your viewing leisure. enjoy!
guys (gn) go ham in my inbox, ily /pos i apologize in advance if i end up capslocking everytime
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trannypresident · 10 months ago
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︵☀︵
PLEASE READ BEFORE FOLLOWING / INTERACTING !!
hi! i go by ox (like the animal)! transmasculine something-or-other, he/him and it/its. vers switch (dom lean on here. but we ball). 18 >:D ambivalently unlabeled but very t4t. taken :3. ftm but only if the f stands for freak and the m stands for (storybook) monster
what can i do? ♥ :
use titles/petnames/etc with the exception of feminine ones, daddy, babygirl (unless its funny) or anything like excessively weird. stroke my ego if you want <3
nsfw asks open to anyone (respecting limits)
nsfw dms open to mutuals (lest i instigate. or u ask real nicely. STILL respecting limits)
interact if you post my limits but aren't in dni
what can't i do? ☄ :
ask for pics/audio (for now.), location, or any personal info
send me content in limits/dni (no shit)
pester me to "try" a kink that isn't listed, just suggesting is fine
KINKS + LIMITS + DNI UNDER THE CUT !!
☼ MAIN KINKS ☼
bondage
praise, service
experimentation & inspection
petplay
royalty dynamics
hierophillia
size dif
monsterfucking
sadomasochism
light gore / bloodplay / hard vore?? idk / general violence . (tagged with #⍥🥩) if you think about killing me you have to tell me. preferably in broad detail
knifeplay
control in general. yknow
✶ MIGHT ALSO POST ✶
objectum
hypno
dumbification
somno
intox (probably just with weed)
cnc, free use (✳ do not instigate first with in dms/asks if its about me subbing - have to be in a mood for it)
⊗ LIMITS ⊗
unsanitary/scat/omo etc
fauxcest
hard cnc/rapeplay (the line blurs a little. basically don't call it rape and we're good. this is not a moral thing i just dislike the word.)
labor kink (ovi or breeding w/o pregnancy is okay)
detrans/misgendering kink
i'm not fond of loveless sex (not necessarily conventionally - up to interpretation. weird fucked up psychospiritual devotion and the desire for ultraviolence are still love in their own special way. hope that helps!) explicit mentions of it or of abandonment will turn me off. sorry
✘ DNI ✘
minors/blank/ageless blogs
terf/transphobes/chasers
cishets in general. this is a trannyfag blog
"men dni" (bc i am a guy. kinda), exclusively wlw blogs still chill to interact, just don't reblog my pics or something
incest
ageplay
blog for weird internet fan discourse, i dont gaf and i dont wanna see it. yes this includes self-described proship accounts i am not your animal
"para community", p3do, necro, zoo. i hope you explode
ed/sh blog
✈ i can get triggerhappy with the block button - don't take it too personally. meow
✈ posts i make w harder/specific kinks will be tagged. cannot guarantee the same w/ reblogs but i will attempt
✈ my own post / talking tag is #✎🐂
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smurphyse · 1 year ago
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It's been over a year since I made this post. In it, I talk about how much it means to writers to have people comment on fics and reblog them.
What I didn't go into at the time is how since Tumblr doesn't really have an algorithm, but a network of users who all follow one another, reblogging is more important than ever to writers and readers.
Let's say you want to read more stories about a fandom ship or a certain character... how do you find them? Either through the author's post or through another user reblogging it. If you aren't in the habit of searching tags, you'll end up reading new fics mostly because someone you followed either searched tags, followed the writer, or got it from a reblog that someone you followed reblogged it from.
It's a cycle guys! If ten people reblog a fic,and ten different people who follow even one of those people then reblog the fic again... the reach is so much farther than if only one person reblogs it.
I get why people don't want to comment. I don't agree, but I get social anxieties and while I don't suffer from it in that way and appreciate comments, that's fine. Reblog the fic if you like it! Then... someone who does comment can leave a comment or an ask and help inspire the writer to continue their work! This site used to be entirely of reblogs and likes, back before the comment/reply feature was available. I hate the comment/reply feature, because it doesn't require a reblog like it used to here on Tumblr. It has meant so much less interaction and spread of stories and it's killing writing because writers don't think anyone wants to keep reading their fics. Because nobody else sees it except those who follow them or read the tags, so there is no reach unless the writer has followers who reblog.
You wanna keep requesting fics but you don't comment or reblog, or your blog is blank? I'm not writing it. I notice who reblogs my stories and who just spam likes and doesn't share them. I don't think you care about my work if you only ever like them and don't bother to comment or even empty reblog. It's upsetting, because why are you following me and liking my writing if you don't want anyone else to see it? I can't tell you how many demands I get for fics or oneshots and then get no interaction on it when I do post it. I'm sick and tired of it, and the hate I get when I inevitably get writer's block because I've gotten no interaction on my stories... so why even continue? I do this for free, and you READ FOR FREE... the absolute least you can do when you consume content that took me hours to write after a 60 hour work week and taking care of myself is to show some gratitude.
Have a side blog you only reblog to, that's fine. Reblog with or without comments, or even tags. Inevitably someone will follow you and see your posts. Use your main blog for your aesthetic or shit posting, whatever, but REBLOG FICS. Other people will see them, they'll get more notes and followers, and it'll only help a writer to continue their work.
I'm so over having this argument. You want more things to read? Support writers and their content. It's as simple as that.
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titleleaf · 2 years ago
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[cw discussion of animal illness/medical crises; emotional manipulation; talking about scams and scammers]
Jsyk: I do not and will not boost or reblog fundraising posts on request or when they’re directly linked to me by people who I don’t know, often people who don’t even follow me. Mutual aid posts are a big part of the social media ecosystem especially on tumblr but there are also plenty of scams that exploit genuine sources of affinity within marginalized communities (disabled people, trans people, people with precarious housing situations, etc) in an incredibly cynical manner.
I just received a request like this from a blog that was
all of two days old
filled with an apparently random selection of fandom posts and memes, all reblogged without any kind of tags or commentary, even a fandom name
...with no other kind of original posts whatsoever, not even shitposts or personal posts, nothing
not following me or anyone else I know
using an icon meant to evoke all kinds of immediate emotional reactions of affinity and sympathy — sweet-looking blue-haired smol bean picrew in front of the trans flag
The request itself could have been perfectly genuine — request for financial help with vet bills for a sick cat, "please help, save his life, I need to raise money in 2 weeks for surgery" — but it's surrounded by a thicket of screaming red flags.
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(Payments made using PayPal’s “friends & family” functionality aren't covered by purchase protection and cannot be reimbursed, even if the payment was made under false pretenses. Cool.)
This shit is incredibly shady and incredibly manipulative. Lots of stuff to evoke strong emotions and sympathy; repeated calls to action and a super short timetable to save a poor cat’s life — all of this stuff is plausible by itself but these elements of the request are not incidental. The request itself is calculated to provoke a sense of intense urgency -- worry for the poor cat, sympathy for the owner -- and a sense of shame if you catch yourself hesitating to donate or spread the word. (What kind of heartless person doesn't want to help a cat? Wants to let a cat die? Wants to kill a cat? What kind of bad leftist ignores a poor trans person's cry for help? I'm a trans person and a cat lover, and when my cat was in the hospital I was inconsolable.) By itself, urgency isn’t a red flag -- emergencies have a way of emerging suddenly, pets get sick, shit costs money -- but combined with everything else about this post it absolutely is one. In the comments on the post it only took one person saying “hey, watch out, this post has some red flags for a scam so I’d hesitate before reblogging it” for comments to be turned off entirely.
Do I know for a die-hard certainty that this post was fraudulent and the OP was running a scam? I absolutely do not, and I'm not interested in teaching anyone how to scam better either. But if you *do* have a genuine fundraising post for any cause, even an urgent one: don't do it from a nearly-blank blog and don’t message random strangers about it, even if you think it’ll get your post more traction. You have no way of knowing their financial situation or if they're in any kind of position to donate, or whether they themselves are in tough financial straits.
I'm not anti-fundraising or anti-mutual-aid -- people on this site helped me pay for top surgery without going into crazy medical debt, that would not have been possible without the goodwill and generosity of other marginalized people -- but I've also ignorantly passed on scam messaging and been tricked out of money I seriously needed, not just by strangers either. The vast majority of scams function through high-pressure tactics and emotional manipulation. This shit is 101-level social engineering and you're going to encounter it all over the place in life, not just on social media. Learn about social engineering, keep your eyes peeled for potential dishonesty, and don't fall for it or spread this kind of messaging around to victimize someone else.
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cripple-culture-is · 2 years ago
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Hi everyone!
This blog is inspired by the blank-culture-is blogs. I noticed that the one for disabled culture is no longer up, so I decided to change that!
I was going to do disabled culture (and I will do one for disabled people of all kinds), but this one is specifically cripple culture.
This blog is also inspired by the cripple punk movement, which began here on Tumblr in 2014 by user Tyler Trewhella.
This specific culture-is blog is for PHYSICALLY DISABLED PEOPLE ONLY. All physically disabled people are welcome here.
This blog is not for the non-disabled, nor is it for neurodivergent and or mentally ill non-crippled people. No, "crippling anxiety" isn't a valid term here.
People are allowed to submit posts, both anonymously and not. I just ask that you begin every submission with: Cripple culture is (insert your comment here)
Example:
Cripple culture is having to constantly fight to be heard.
Users may also ask me questions. Make sure that if you do ask questions, you refrain from using the "Cripple culture is" phrase listed above and just ask your question. Otherwise I may not see it, or it may look confusing to users who read this.
IMPORTANT: If you aren't comfortable using the slur, you may start your question with "physically disabled culture is" or "cpunk culture is"
This blog is currently run by one mod AKA me.
You may know me by my other user, which is @arthriticartist8729.
Last but not least, we're going to run through the principles and rules of Cripple Punk, as I mentioned it before.
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[id] white text on a black background reads:
principles of cripple punk:
-cripple punk is exclusively by the physically disabled for the physically disabled
-cripple punk is about solidarity & is open to all physically disabled people
-cripple punk rejects pity, inspiration porn, & all other forms of ableism
-cripple punk rejects the “good cripple” mythos. cripple punk is here for the bitter cripple, the uninspirational cripple, the smoking cripple, the drinking cripple, the addict cripple, the cripple who hasn’t “tried everything”
-cripple punk fights internalized ableism & fully supports those struggling with it
-cripple punk respects intersections of race, culture, gender, sexual/romantic orientation, size, intersex status, mental illness/neuroatypical status, survivor status, etc.
-cripple punk recognizes that there is no one universal disabled experience
-cripple punk does not pander to the able bodied [/end id]
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[id] White text on a black background reads:
rules:
-cripple punk is not conditional on things like mobility aids & “functioning levels”
-always listen to those w/ different physical disabilities & different intersections than yourself. do not speak over them
-disabled people do not need to personally identify w/ the words “cripple” or “punk” individually to be a part of cripple punk
-able bodied people wishing to spread the message may only ever amplify the voices of the disabled
-able bodied people may never use uncensored slurs themselves but never censor our language
-able bodied people must always tag things like reblogs with “i’m able bodied”
-physically disabled people wanting to be a part of the movement who are uncomfortable using the slur may refer to it as “cpunk” [/end id]
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REQUESTS: OPEN
Queue posts from 3PM - 5PM CST 1* per day
(*this number changes depending on how many asks i get, though i try to keep it at 3 or more)
rules for requests
- no NSFW requests (I am a minor) - no Hazbin Hotel/Helluva Boss, Danganrompa,genshin impact, or Harry Potter related asks (for personal and obvious reasons)
- no wonderbread. I've gotten this ask 5 different times with Percy please stop - if its been weeks and your ask hasn't been answered, please don't spam my inbox with said ask - not a rule but FEEL FREE TO SEND MULTIPLE IN A ROW! I DONT MIND!
- please do not repost without permission (reblogs are fine, those aren't reposts) - not much else, just be respectful 👍
REASONS I MAY NOT HAVE DONE YOUR REQUEST
- askbox ate it (happens often) - I couldnt find a good image/ wasnt able to do it for other reasons - topic was a touchy subject or made me uncomfortable
- I'm saving it for later - I accidentally deleted it (I have issues with how my brain processes what I see. I have done this a couple times and feel really bad about. if you think this happened dont be afraid to dm me about it, AFTER that you may re ask it. - you asked when requests were closed (accidents happen so if you reask when they are open I wont delete it)
about the mod
- Call me mod Sylvie, I Use He/Him - I don't kin or relate to Sylvie in any way, an asker said that he runs the blog and I ran with it. also Sylvie is a cool name so why not call myself it - I try to get to these asap but I have sleep issues (ironic considering my Sylvie theme) that make it hard to have the time or energy. - I love answering random asks about stuff, ask away (btw, if requests are closed non request related asks are still fine!) - I haven't abandoned the cardboard cut out of Syvlie, I just need to figure out whats going on with my printer
tags I tend to use
epithet erased where they shouldnt be - main tag/ any photo with a character edited into it
not ee where they shouldnt be - off topic
Sylvie speaks - off topic posts that are mostly me saying something (may be changed to mod speaks if i ditch the Sylvie)
the pain of not being able to reply with a sideblog - replying to a comment (before the update)
Mod Sylvie - whenever I use one of Sylvie sprites to stand in as me in a post
not a place just silly edits - its in the tag. there was no place mentioned so it takes place in a blank void
Mod sylvies faves - favorite posts, i hand this out decently often
more to be added as I use em
If I sort things via tags I'll put them here for easy access!
(check reblogs for the post with character tags, reblog dont show up when searching the tags but this way still allows you to search my account for specific characters! comment if i forget to add any)
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spaghettificationandpretzels · 10 months ago
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I don't know what happened to Tumblr but I feel like writers who work very hard and put hours of work into reserching, writing and editing aren't getting any interaction. I've had posts get 200 likes in a matter of days and there's not one comment and 90% of the reblogs are blank. I have authors notes and banners so I make it clear I want interaction.
Whenever I ask (beg) for comments it feels like I'm walking around with a pan saying "alms for the poor" while most of the people pay no attention.
It's not like I'm asking for a lot, I don't think my writing is good enough to deserve massive paragraphs of praise but a "I loved this so much" would be wonderful. It gets very hard, especially after anon requests that never get a thank you follow up, to not feel like, for one, I'm a terrible writer, and two, that people who like and move on are just greedy and don't care as long as they have something to read.
So once again, comments and reblogs WITH TAGS!!!! make or break motivation sometimes. If you want content, thank the person making it, if you're shy, that's what anon asks are for.
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pens-swords-stuff · 2 years ago
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hello! did you ever struggle with the thought that it would be too late to make this blog into a writeblr? I've reblogged so much to the point where it's impractical to try to cleanup the account, but I'd also like to use my main blog as a writeblr, so I'm having a bit of dilemma right now :(
It's never too late!
Look, there is literally no requirement to being a writeblr besides: Have a tumblr blog where you occasionally post/reblog things about writing. That's it! There's no rule about having to have a clean blog, or it has to be a "pure" writeblr where you never post/reblog anything but writing. It's all personal preference and what you want to do.
You don't actually have to cleanup your account and delete all of your old reblogs. You can just... Be a writeblr. Start now, even though your blog has a history of existing as something else — and that's not a bad thing at all. Just start posting stuff about your WIPs, reblog writing posts, make an intro, do whatever it is that you want to do with a writeblr. It's really that easy! No one is going to judge you for having posted/reblogged things unrelated to writing.
If blog organization is important to you, you can just start organizing your blog from this point onwards with your tagging system for writing posts (or posts that aren't about writing).
If having a blank blog is that important to you, you have a few options:
Use the mass post editor to delete in bulk batches.
Create a new main blog.
Create a sideblog (I know you want your main blog as your writeblr, but I want to point out that this is still an option).
Start posting writeblr stuff, and slowly delete things over time; you don't have to do it all at once.
The only time limit or lateness that exists here is in your own head. You are not the only blog who has started out as a different blog, and shifted over to being a writeblr. And the parameters for what a "writeblr blog is" is not super clear or set in stone, because ultimately it's just a community name. There's no Writeblr Council(tm) that determines whether you are a writeblr or not, whether you're worthy of joining the community or not, or whether it's too late for you to shift into joining the community. There is nothing stopping you from making your blog into a writeblr but your own expectations.
It sounds like you're overthinking things and overburdening yourself a bit, because it really is that easy to just join the community!
Whatever you decide to do, good luck! Whether you decide to take the leap into joining the community or not, the writeblr community will always be here to welcome you. (Or because I can ultimately only speak for myself, I will!)
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Remember, all advice is subjective! So don’t take this too seriously. This is just one person’s opinion.
If you’d like to ask me for advice on writing or running a writeblr, please check out my Ask Guidelines and FAQ first.
Ask Guidelines | FAQ | Advice Masterlist
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rakishhellion · 1 year ago
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hi!! advice for tumblr etiquette: there practically is none. with a few exceptions do what you want. like on insta if you like someone's post from a year ago you're a stalker but there are posts on tumblr that are still endlessly circling from 2011. tags are only ever used accurately on the original post. even then it doesn't happen much. tags are for writing random shit you want to say without getting reblogged into oblivion. follow whoever. block whoever. you don't have to prove that someone is problematic or "cancelled" to block them. if you're sick of seeing ninja turtles on your dash you can just block. also this isn't tiktok where everything is sterilised into hell. you can say kill. you can say fuck. also it's still an issue in some places but generally queer culture is a hell of a lot less sterilised here than elsewhere. people tend to be more mature about discourse compared to other apps and sites but that's not saying much. there is the odd terf but this is the transgender webbed site so we bully them. also block them don't bother arguing they're stubborn and will just drain you. goncharov is a real film. do not go on the "radqueer" tag it's not what you're hoping it is trust me. every single person I have ever heard IN MY LIFE say that queer is a slur has been a terf. if someone says queer is a slur, they are a terf. "queer is a slur" is a terf dogwhistle /srs. don't bother looking into any point they have. it's all just to lure you in. block block block. terfs are pretty rare but when you find them in the wild oh my god they are insufferable. mutuals are your best friends. you do not need to speak to them. don't use post+. ko-fi links however are fine. don't have a blank blog or default pfp. if you have a blank blog or default pfp people will assume you are a bot and block are report you. oh and another thing, the sexy girlbots haven't been too bad these past couple of weeks for me but generally the only thing sexy about them is their bio and pfp. don't report them for sexually explicit content. tumblr won't do shit. report them for spam. there are a lot of inside jokes. but not like the twitter ones where they come and go in 2 week phases based on recent popular posts. these are years old inside jokes that we beat into the ground. also you don't have to explain why you're posting or what kind of post it is. we don't post for views and likes here. you can literally post kfjd rjhwhrb fhtfk? and that is normal here. literally do what you want. twitter is like 1984 big brother type shit compared to here. also no one cares how many notes or followers you have. we are blogging for no reason other than blogging. the check marks aren't like the twitter ones where you pay a greedy billionaire. they're 7.99 instead of 8 literally just to make fun of Elon and you get 2 for 1. this website isn't run by some embarrassingly stupid greedy hundred-billionaire. it's on its last legs. basically having check marks on twitter will get my fist rapidly approaching your face but check marks on tumblr are like. yeah whatever. also the crabs
omg thx, pretty comprehensive list, also i was aware of the whole queer is a slur bs but i didnt know terfs were using it as a dogwhistle wtf
also i know about the about the the i like your shoelaces thingy yeah im so smart
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rubyreduji · 1 year ago
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★ fic requests are CLOSED, but requests for thoughts and lists are OPEN - see below for request rules
★ my inbox is always open if you wanna talk/ask questions abt me or my moots (i am very scatterbrained tho so don't take it personally if i don't get back to you right away - i will get to it eventually!)
★ i do go through every person who follows my blog so NO BLANK BLOGS or i will see and block you
★ minors DO NOT interact with 18+ fics, i do write sfw content so you can follow me, but if you interact with my smut fics i will terminate you [block my "★ mdni" tag]
★ do not ask for a part two especially if you haven't reblogged the fic and added other comments other than asking for a part two (i have a strong distaste for people who ask for part two's on my fics and more likely than not i will not write one unless i state in the post that there will be another part)
★ i shouldn't have to say this but be respectful, i do not tolerate homophobia, transphobia, racism, abelism, etc and you will be blocked and ignored if you leave hate about any of my moots
★ my writing and posting schedule can be very inconsistent but i typically post updates if im taking a break/in a slump
★ ive been described like a puppy who has undiagnosed adhd so be prepared for whatever chaos i bring to this blog
★ i'm generally a pretty erratic person so be ready to deal with my ramblings (if you don't want to just block my rru.thots tag lol)
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if i am taking requests:
★ list requests include: "svt in [blank] universe", headcanons, mtl, reactions, "svt as [blank]", rankings, etc (check out my #rru.lists tag for more examples)
★ i only write for seventeen
★ i write for male, female, gender neutral, and transmasc readers
★ i will write: dom-sub dynamics, omegaverse, hybrids, member x member ONLY IF its in a threesome or poly relationship w/ the reader
★ i will write most things but i reserve the right to not take a request if i am not comfortable with it
★ things i WILL NOT write include but are not limited to: illegal stuff (cnc/noncon, incest, abuse, etc), age or race play, bodily fluids that aren't spit cum or squirting, cg/l dynamics
★ it might take me a while to get around to a request so be patient
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