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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.

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 <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.

#jake seresin x reader #hangman x reader #house we share #jake seresin x you #hangman x you #gci3 #good comes in 3

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teaboot · 2 years ago

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hello this is my first Tumblr and I am quite confusef Hel me!

Hello!

Tumblr in my experience is different from a lot of other social media platforms as there is no real goal or purpose or competition in posting. You can pretty much just say or do or add whatever and if people like your vibes the follow you, and if they don't, they don't.

If you like certain topics or Fandoms (groups of people who enjoy a particular show, book, media, etc.) you can search for it and click "follow" on blogs dedicated to those things.

Whenever they post something, you can see it on your dashboard (your "feed" or "homepage") and decide to comment (add pictures or words) reply (say something without sharing the post with your followers) or reblog (share with your followers, so that anyone following you can see the post, with or without adding your own commentary.)

Beyond technical stuff, there are some cultural things you may want to know about.

If something you reblog has potentially upsetting content- violence, traumatic topics, nudity- its considered an act of courtesy to "tag" it. This is so your followers who specifically do not want to see those topics can use filters to make those posts invisible. This is handy for people with phobias, PTSD, or photosensitive epilepsy, but also for people who just don't like those things.

There are a lot of memes that will not make sense. That is because posts don't vanish when they get old, so anything that becomes a "meme" often gets referenced over and over again for years, sometimes actual decades. Posts like "do you like the color of the sky?", "Horse Plinko", "loss.jpeg", etc. are examples of this.

There is no algorithm that decides what you might like and shows you those things. You are in control of your own experience. If you see a lot of posts from people you don't like about things you don't want to see, you can block them and never see them again. They won't see you, either. It's like making friends- you can choose to follow whoever makes you happy and avoid whoever doesn't.

There is a bot problem. Bots are automated spam designed to look like other users. This is often "cute single women" type stuff, but can also be anonymous or generic fake blogs that send out a thousand identical messages that accuse you or others of wrongdoing, or just send out basic insults. They will never see your reply. They only exist to cause chaos. You can report and block them and are encouraged to do so.

There is a difference between "liking" and "reblogging". If you "like" something, it is added to an invisible list so you can go back and find it later. If you "reblog" something, your followers can see it too. Artists prefer reblogs over likes, because they put a lot of work into their art (or writing) and the only way they can reach a large audience is if lots of people share it. Artists who are trying to get commissions or develop a career depend on reblogs to continue making art.

Sometimes an update or change happens that alters the website without any warning and everyone whines about it and adapts. This happens every few months. It's kind of dumb and sometimes makes it worse but if you Google "tumblr 2012" you will see that it's actually been a slow march of improvement.

Something weird will happen on April fool's day. Sometimes this will affect the website layout.

You will not get many followers unless you engage with other users. This is a cafeteria and if you wanna eat alone you can.

If any of your posts go viral you will see it forever until you die and if it's about Beans you will live out the rest of your days getting messages like "Are you Bean Guy" so tread lightly

You will need to choose an icon and change the appearance of your blog or people will think you are a bot. (Side effect of the bot problem.)

I have no idea if you are a bot or spam message this reply is an act of faith

Good luck!

#Long post

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grollow · 1 year ago

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How do you avoid over-writing? I don’t know if that’s the correct term, but one of the reasons it’s taking so long for me to post updates on my works is that I feel like I’m spending way to much time on minor details. I don’t want to be one of those writers who spends 2 pages describing a single object, but I’ve gotten myself stuck in a never ending loop of deleting parts I think are useless and rewriting them simpler and I am going to collapse

I’ve been staring at this since you sent it, anon, because I want to give you a good answer – it’s not every day that someone slides into my inbox for writing advice and I’m incredibly flattered.

That being said, if I am being honest, the best answer that I can give you is: write. Just write. If it’s excessive, let it be excessive. A common mistake that writers (me included) make is to edit as you go, which in turn means you start becoming harder and harder on the content of your writing, and you move slower, and get less done. Editing should come after the first draft is done, after you’ve got the story on paper. You can go back and change it once it’s done to reflect the story you are trying to tell. That may mean cutting out excessive detail, reworking sections, things of that nature.

In my case, it often means adding in the detail, because I naturally trim things down too much (my greatest crime is eating all the sensory details of my works if I can help it – they add little for me, but I know others like them, so I am trying to include them more in Red Sky). By default, I include the bare minimum of sensory stuff and go heavy into the thoughts/spirals. I’m not sure I can help remove, when I am kind of the opposite guy. My instinctive rule of thumb is, though, to give just enough detail on environment to let the imagination fill in the rest. Writing has a flow to it for me – if it starts losing pace when I read (IE, if I read it and I start trying to skim), that’s too much. That’s how I tell.

I’m afraid I don’t know how helpful this is because it is something that comes with practice, reading more, talking to others, and getting a feel for what your audience wants or needs to see to be immersed in the story.

One of the best pieces of advice someone gave me recently is that polish comes in editing. I’ve got a wonderful pair of betas ( @dropout-ninja & @voidsiblings ) who help me a lot with this. If you’re getting yourself locked in a loop, write it as it feels natural, and let the polish come later. Sometimes you gotta ramble for 3 pages about that vase and then just tuck it away later, y’know?

Maybe one of the people that I tagged will have some more advice, though. Writing mutuals, please reblog if you’ve got anything to help anon <3

#asks: answered #anon #writing

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headdaze · 5 months ago

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for your lil ask post: (if that doesn’t work just imagine me flopping around like a fish outta water all sad and emo like bc i hate mobile)

I’M NOT INTO ANY SO JUST ANSWER WITH ONE OF YOUR FAVS (if you wanna <3)

FISH ILYSM YES IT DID WORK LOLLL yeah mobile is a pain (mostly bc I hate texting RIP) so I feel u, like I have to add tags onto posts so they don't get buried but it's so annoying to type out all of them and then add the little hashtag to actually make it a tag so these days I literally just do "reblog now" and then later on desktop i'll add tags 😂

ANYWAYS

now those of you who have been stalking my recent reblogs will probably expect me to yap abt svt and believe me I could & I would but im gonna take this chance to yap about my current fav gg my beloved 💖 KISS OF LIFE 💖 for the ask game - for those of yall who don't know they're under S2 entertainment (not one of the "famous" companies to my knowledge), have four members, and debuted pretty recently in 2023!!

✦ my first bias: belle her vocals literally make me feel like i could die happy. also she's so competent (i love competency) & just so unintentionally funny sometimes and always slays so yes i love her so much

✦ my current bias(es): ot4 😭 i feel like sayinh anything else is a CRIME, imo they're the best when they're together and vibing bc the way they all just hang out and have fun together reminds me a lot of my own friend group 🥹

✦ my album and/or era ranking (or favorite of each): they're newer so not too many eras to choose from & also all of them are SLAYS SO here's the best from each for me - kiss of life (debut album): I'm weak for belle's countdown (prechorus SLAYSSS) & shh is surprisingly addictive / born to be xx: all of it. amazing. says it is really beaitufl and calm, but bad news always gets me hyped!! / midas touch: it's a single album so only two songs BUT THEY GO SO HARD!!!

✦ how i got into them: this is a really weird story that I'm just gonna tell bc I can and I will -- I saw Jii (cover artist on Youtube) uploaded a short of her Chinese cover of Midas Touch & Jordan Orme (also a youtuber) analyzed the music video… but tbh I was annoyed to see it everywhere RIP LOL and then eventually watched Jii’s short and was like “wait this is actually so banger” so I watched the Midas Touch MV then watched Jordan Orme dissect it .. then idk how but eventually I just went on a KIOF listening spree, listened to all their discography and the rest is history >3< I will say I feel like the moment I was like "yeah i love them to death" is when I watched their midas touch part switch dance; i feel like it really showed off their fun energy and made them feel very real, in a way.

✦ which member would be my best friend: oh help i actually don't know since i don't know TOO TOO much abt each of their personalities - maybe natty?? maybe i'm biased bc i have a best friend whose name is pretty similar to hers 😂

✦ something i associate with them (or with a bias/any member): shimmery metallic pink, X's, hearts, anything NEAR midas touch/greek mythology as any concept :D

tysm fish again for letting me yappp ily/p 🫶💘

#ask answered #ask game #THIS IS ACTUALLY SO FUN WHATTT #is there one for like anime/manga??? bc WHEW I could talk forever about certain series (cough winbre cough)#but yahhh #stan KIOF!!!#also STREAM THE JULY 1ST COMEBACK #for good summer vibes!!!#random thoughts #jim's journal #kpop #kiss of life #i love talking 🥰

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starry-bi-sky · 1 year ago

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raaaaaaaaaa @ghoulsgogames you love asking questions? Well I love answering them (and if I don't have an answer to it, I'll just say it lol). Nine times out of ten it will revitalize my own obsession with an au, especially if its been a while since I talked about it. (Like how watercolour-carnations asked me about my Thomas Wayne au and I literally wrote a 3k oneshot that following day because I was so happy) To me it means someone liked my idea enough to have more thoughts on it themselves, which is always one of my goals when I share an au of mine.

(I never mention it in my posts but if literally anyone wants to remix this idea or add on their own thoughts, I'm literally so down for it. It's my favorite thing ever to see how people interpret my work and make it their own. all i ask is that they either tag me or reblog it on this post so that I can see it <3)

I type a lot so im putting this under a read more

I mentioned it in the comments but I'll just re-say it here about Danny's opinions on billionaires: my thoughts for that was that Danny already distrusted Bruce on principle for being a billionaire (remember; he grew up poor in Crime Alley before they moved to Amity Park. He has poor opinions about uber rich people in general). To me, Danny considered Bruce as the exception and not the rule. He had a little hope for Vlad Masters when he first learns about him, but that disappears pr quickly after they meet. He has that same slimy vibe as every other rich person Danny's ever met.

(aaaaa im so excited over your questions that I'm having trouble thinking of an answer for them)

I'm very much in love with your Jason and Danny both fuming and plotting on opposite ends of the gala tag. Literally love it. Danny's gonna literally demolish the Joker when he sees him. It's fr on fucking sight.

I don't know what Danny owes Vlad atm, when I was writing this it was just an excuse to get him into the Wayne Gala because lord knows he wouldn't go willingly. Danny has been avoiding Gotham like a plague ever since the Funeral. First it was because of bad memories, and then afterwards its because he knew that the next time he stepped foot into the city, there was a high chance that he was going to hunt down the Joker immediately. He wanted to do it when he was ready.

Vlad is absolutely also trying to use Danny's connection to the Waynes to his advantage. He's also just trying to show off that Danny is his Godson. (I love your tag talks I'm gonna be riding this high all day)

ALSO YEAH JACKDAW'S TAGS HAD ME SWOONING BECAUSE YES. YEESSSSS. THEY GET IT. JASON'S PAIN OVER REALIZING THAT HIS BEST FRIEND IS STILL MOURNING HIM FIVE YEARS LATER AND THAT HE WANTS TO MURDER THE JOKER WITH HIS OWN HANDS. I was literally vibrating over that part because yessss. Angst go BRRR and the tragic realization that the death of a loved one can sometimes permanently affect someone for the rest of their life. That Danny has been holding onto this grief for all these years and the reason he hasn't been back to Gotham is because he's been wanting to murder the Joker all this time and has been biding his time for it. He has been waiting and Jason can only imagine he's been waiting this long because Danny wants to actually go through with it. A tiny fourteen year old (civilian) probably can't kill the Joker on purpose. But a furious, vengeance-filled, 6'5 nineteen year old? That's a little more likely.

Post-posting addition: i just remembered this but Danny turning to the Red Hood, a vigilante and saying to his face that he is going to kill the Joker. Danny knows that the Red Hood has a direct line to the Batman and he still tells him that he is going to murder the Joker. It is an unspoken "I am going to kill this man and there is nothing you can do to stop me. That is how much Jason meant to me"

Also Danny's apathy over his own death. Danny dying a week after Jason has been in 'the drafts' ever since I first thought of this au last month. Danny had always been planned to die a week after Jason, and I hadn't put much thought into it beyond just "Jason and his family are going to think Danny did it on purpose" and the angst behind that. But the idea that he really is just apathetic towards his own fate, that he doesn't really care that he died because now he can see Jason again? It's 👌 chefs kiss *mwha*

No yeah Jason was totally wondering how Danny knew how he died. And Danny's ranted a lot about his parents before he moved and their stupid ghost theories. Jason knew at least that much. It's something that was a little hard to forget. And I totally think Danny mentioned the portal in passing in his letters, but only in passing. He thought it was dumb and he bitched about it once in a letter to Jason when they started on it because it was eating up their time even more and somehow he saw them even less than when he was in Gotham.

But he never really brought it up after that. just that his parents were 'building some stupid portal in the basement' which. Concerning. Somehow Jason didn't bring it up to Bruce (my first thought is that it's because he knows that the Drs. Fenton and their inventions hardly ever work, so he wasn't concerned about it)

Which means that when Danny says 'Jason's ghost told me how he died' Jason genuinely takes it a little more seriously than if he hadn't had the ghost context from before. Because with that one line Jason is suddenly slapped in the face with the reminder that: hey, the Fentons were literally building a portal to hell in their basement and according to Danny, it WORKED

Because who else would have told him that it was the Joker who killed him and how? Bruce didn't, Jason knows that for certain. And it brings up another concern: how did Danny find his ghost, and why doesn't Jason remember being one. What OTHER things did his ghost tell Danny? How much did he know? There's so many concerning things in that one line alone.

And as for Jason not looking into amity park... I genuinely think he might've avoided Amity Park like the plague just as much as Danny avoided Gotham. Iirc literally none of the bats are good at emotional shit, and Jason was angry, revived, and a crime lord. Telling Danny that he was alive had a lot of factors in it that Jason was not emotionally ready to address. Like Jackdaw said: Jason probably feels a lot of shame and self-consciousness when it comes to Danny, and that fear of rejection is very much there.

Raaaaa thats all i can think of answering but if you have more questions or literally just want to rant at me about this au, then my DMs are very open and willing to listen to said rants. Seriously, I loove hearing peoples thoughts. I want you to rant if you have one. Please do it’d make my day

Childhood Friends Danny and Jason

(cw underage smoking / smoking as a form of bonding) (cw Jason thinking Danny killed himself but its only for a moment) (cw depictions of murderous intent? Danny wants to murder the Joker and he's a little descriptive about it

This is… aha. Massive. Word count check: 9k+

this has probably been done before but hey, everyone loves a good trope and I wanted to share my take on this idea. 👏👏 So, Danny Fenton and Jason Todd being childhood friends. The Fentons lived in Crime Alley for a good long while during Danny's childhood. Nobody wanted to fund their research and Jack and Maddie struggled to keep any form of work for a multitude of reasons. Jack worked in construction due to his big build and Maddie had another job elsewhere.

Danny and Jason were friends during that time, really great friends. I'm not super solid on how they met yet but I do know it involves Danny committing petty crime and Jason deciding to jump in and help when he sees Danny struggling. Danny was distrustful (as all crime alley kids ought to be) but they eventually became thick as thieves, committing petty crime together.

While it's all too easy to make Danny the weaker one of the two with Jason protecting him, I actually really like the idea that they protected each other. Growing up (essentially) on the streets means Danny forcibly had to grow a backbone unless he wanted to get trampled all over. He is just as willing to scuffle with the bigger kids as Jason is, and he and Jason regularly fought each other whenever they needed to let off steam, or just because. They were a duo, having each other's backs in tough situations.

(Sometimes the pair of them would sneak out at night and try and get a glimpse of Batman and Robin while they soared through the air. It was like a game between the two of them to see who could spot the dynamic duo first. When they were a little older, Jason would steal his dad's cigarettes and share them with Danny while they searched for Batman and Robin)

So when Danny has to move away when they're eleven years old, it's pretty safe to say that Jason didn't speak to him for a week afterwards. Nothing Danny did could persuade him to otherwise, even when Danny insisted that it wasn't his fault and that he didn't want to move away either, but he didn't have a choice in the matter.

When the week was over, Jason climbed through Danny's window and sat in his room, dead silent and looking upset. he didn't speak until Danny fished out a stolen pack of cigarettes from his bed and handed one to Jason.

(It was a ritual they had where if one of them was upset about something but wasn't saying anything, the other one could then hand them a cigarette -- whether it be the one they were using or a new one -- and that would be an open invitation for the person to vent. The other one who handed him the cigarette wouldn't speak until the venter handed back the cigarette. Then back and forth it would go until the cigarette was gone.)

Jason ranted about how pissed he was about Danny moving, and they promised to try and stay in touch after he leaves. Neither of them had phones, but Danny was determined to send him a letters.

Danny moves to Amity Park and it's... an adjustment, that's for sure. He's angry, grumpy, upset, and every other negative feeling under the sun. He was going to a new middle school with new people he didn't know, away from all of the people he did know and away from his best friend.

(He does however keep his word about sending letters, and mails one out to Jason at the first opportunity.)

He refuses to get along with anyone, butts heads with the teachers, is combative, rude, and openly smokes in class -- which gets him plenty of detentions and a bad reputation. He speaks in a thick Gotham street accent and wears hand-me-down clothes that are too big and baggy on him. (His parents have yet to replace any of their wardrobes as they settle into their new life, and Danny is hesitant to spend the money to get new clothes.)

He only manages to befriend Sam and Tucker because one of the football kids was bullying Tucker and Danny stepped in. It was some blond jerk named Dash and when Dash threw the first punch, Danny broke his nose. Tucker found him later that day and reluctantly thanked him for his help.

Sam and Danny do not get along for the longest time. Sam questions Danny about his upbringing, his accent, his smoking. She judges him for talking back to the teachers despite doing it herself and for ruining his lungs with cigarettes. Danny tells her to fuck off, and when she tries to judge him and Tucker for not being vegetarian, he calls her a privileged brat.

Sam doesn't even look at him for two weeks after, and Danny refuses to apologize. Tucker is caught between a rock and a hard place as his old friend and new friend are feuding with each other.

They... sort it out eventually.

Danny and Jason send each other letters near religiously. Danny complains about Amity Park, and Jason complains about how Crime Alley isn't the same without him. Danny talks about the school and what he's learned, about Sam and Tucker, and how he's been getting into the astronomy books in the library. He steals Jason a book and sends it to him.

When Jason tells Danny that he was adopted by Bruce Wayne, Danny calls bullshit. There's no fucking way Bruce Wayne would even look at Crime Alley, regardless of his charity efforts towards it. But when he checks Gotham news later that week, he's hit in the face with every single news article announcing Bruce Wayne's newest ward; Jason Todd.

Cue freaking out. Jason talks all about living in Wayne Manor and what it's like there. He says that there's a monster library in a part of the house that Bruce says he has free reign over, and that Jason can have anything to eat as long as he asks Alfred to make it and it isn't a desert, and that he has his own monster-sized room that he got to pick out himself and decorate.

(When they both get phones, the first thing either of them do is add each other's numbers.)

When Sam complains about having to go to a Wayne Gala that her parents are dragging her to one weekend, the first thing Danny asks is if he can go with. It surprises Sam and Tucker; Danny was the last person they would have thought wanted to go with. HE hates the rich even more than Sam does. Danny stands firm in his decision, and refuses to elaborate.

"Besides." He says to Sam, with whom he's begun to get along with via 'the enemy of my enemy is a friend'. "Would you rather go alone or with someone you can tolerate?"

She brings him with and convinces her parents to allow Danny to come along, citing that she'll be on her best behavior if they do. They agree, and buy Danny a suit when he says that he doesn't have one of his own.

(He discovers that he hates wearing suit jackets and ties, but vests he doesn't mind. He doesn't like that he has to comb his hair back, but he does to make Sam's parents happy. They give him a crash course in etiquette that Danny's going to forget the next day, and soon enough off they go in a private jet to Gotham)

(he does not tell Jason he's coming.)

he feels mischievous and nervous as they touch down, his stomach swirling as Sam's parents usher them to a high-profile hotel that Danny's only ever dreamed about going into. He feels largely out of place as they walk through the lobby, and falls back on old habits: square shoulders, set jaw, make yourself look like the biggest person in the room.

They get ready in the hotel room, Sam's parents primp and preen for the night incoming, and Sam is dragged into it by her mother. Danny does only what's required of him, and fiddles with the sleeves of his fresh-ironed button-down that's been tailored to his body. He's itching for a cigarette, and didn't bring any with.

Sam's dad helps him with his tie, a bout of kindness that Danny doesn't think is one. Just obligation to prevent Danny from looking like a mess. Sam pesters him again about wanting to come, and his reasons for it, and Danny keeps mum.

He's stone-faced with anxiety as they get closer to the gala, and before they leave the limousine the Mansons rented Sam links arms with him. A form of solidarity that Danny needs as he squeezes their arms together and smiles weakly at her.

The paparazzi are loud, bright, and demanding, shouting questions over questions at them like overlapping tidal waves. Danny ignores them all and focuses on the front doors instead. Sam's parents whisper at the stairs that they are to greet the Waynes first, and Danny's heart leaps to his throat.

His heart is in his ears as they drift closer, Mister Wayne is preoccupied with another rich couple, smiling that charming billionaire smile that Danny saw on every billboard in Gotham, and then some in Amity Park. Getting so close to him feels unreal.

And there by his side is the one and only Jason Todd, who isn't even trying to hide the bored look on his face as he watches Bruce interact with the other adults. He's gotten taller in the year they've been away, and healthier. His hair looks like its been cut professionally and he doesn't look as street kid skinny.

Danny's arm, hooked with Sam's, tightens up, and he resists the urge to rush forward and hug Jason. He watches Jason's eyes sweep left, away from him, and then right, towards him. The air stills for a moment as their eyes lock.

Danny grins toothily at him, lopsided and playful in nature, and sees the moment Jason processes the sight before him. His arm starts slipping out of Sam's at the same time as an ecstatic smile stretches across Jason's face.

His lopsided grin fills out on the other end. "DANNY!" Jason yells, cutting off whatever Bruce Wayne and startling everyone within earshot. There's barely a moment for Bruce to look down when Jason shoves past him and runs at Danny.

Danny yanks his arm out of Sam's, "JASON!" He yells with just as much enthusiasm, and Jason nearly topples them right over when he collides with Danny. His arms wrap around Danny's shoulders, holding onto him tightly, and they're both laughing, spinning around like tops out of joy.

"You didn't tell me you were coming!" Jason cries, sounding accusing. Danny hugs him just as tightly, and laughs when Jason pulls away momentarily to punch his shoulder.

"I wanted it to be a surprise!" He defends, laughing between words as their spinning comes to a stop. They're both reluctant to pull apart, but they do and clutch the sleeves of their elbows tightly. "How could my best friend be adopted by the Bruce Wayne and have me not come confirm it with my own two eyes?"

"I sent you newspaper clippings!" Jason says, narrowing his eyes while his smile betrays his face. Danny quietly notices that his Gotham street accent is faded slightly.

"Oh that's what it was?" Danny's grin turns again, edging into a smirk. He feigns innocence, "I thought that was fire kindling." He has the newspaper clippings hung on the corkboard in his room, proud beyond words about his best friend.

Jason punches him in the shoulder again, hard enough to leave a bruise. "You jackass." He says, ignoring Danny's laughter even when he's holding back his own.

There's a soft, sharp clearing of someone's throat, breaking their attentions away from each other to the one that made the noise.

Bruce Wayne was a tall man, taller than Danny expected, and he looks exactly like his billboards. If less promiscuous than his perfume ads. Danny expects him to be upset with them both for disrupting his pretty rich gala, but instead he just looks gently amused, with an arched eyebrow. Overall though, he just looks fond.

Danny would be the first to admit that Bruce had taken in Jason as a charity case, something to fill the void after his other kid Dick Grayson finally moved out. But Danny’s a good judge of character — or he likes to assume he is — and those are not the eyes of a man who would take Jason in as a charity case. Those are the eyes of a man who actually, genuinely, cares about one Jason Todd.

The wriggly protective thing settles in his chest.

He doesn’t let go of Jason, but he does twist his smile into something a little more polite. Mister Wayne’s eyebrow arches higher, and he turns his blue-blue eyes onto Jason. “Who’s this, Jason?” He has that fancy Gotham Elite accent -- something that sounds like a mix between old transatlantic and faintly British -- that Danny's only heard in passing when he and Jason snuck up to the nicer parts of Gotham.

Jason stares at Mister Wayne, his grip on Danny tightens as his eyes flick to the other onlookers in the room. “This is Danny, B.” He says once his eyes turn back to Mister Wayne. “We grew up in Crime Alley together, he moved to Illinois last year."

Danny can see the uncomfortable expressions cross every rich person's face, murmurs sweeping across the room as soon their uncomfortable gazes turned judgmental and flinty. He's kept track of the tabloids after Jason's adoption, the ones calling him a charity case and looking down on him for being a street kid.

He inches a little closer to Jason, straightening up instinctively, as if they were back in Crime Alley and facing a pack of kids that didn't like them. He can see Sam's surprised expression from the corner of his eye -- he never told Tucker or Sam about where he grew up, although he's sure they had their suspicions.

He looks back to Mister Wayne and meets his blue-blue eyes, his smile has slowly begun to fade. Mister Wayne doesn't miss a beat however, and his smile stays plastered to his face. If anything, it gets a little softer, a little wider. "It's nice to meet you Danny -- Daniel? I'm so glad that Jason has a friend here." He holds out a hand.

Danny eyes him unsurely, and then takes his hand. "It's jus' Danny, Mister Wayne." He says, some of his old accent slipping through as he shook his hand firmly. He would have done it harder, but this was Jason's new guardian, and from Jason's letters he didn't sound too bad. "It's, uh, nice to meet you too. Jason's told me lots about you."

Mister Wayne's brows jump momentarily, he looks intrigued. He looks between Danny and Jason, and claps his hands together softly. "Well, Jay, how would you like to stay with Danny for a while, hm? I'm sure you too have a lot to catch up on."

Hope simmers in Danny's heart, and he glances to Jason to see that same hope on his face. "Really?" He asks, and Mister Wayne nods with a laugh.

"Of course! How could I keep two friends apart? Go on ahead, chum. I'll come get you when the gala ends."

And just like that, Bruce Wayne leaves Jason with Danny, diving back into a conversation with one of the rich gothamites and taking the attention with it as if he were the sun and everyone else a planet orbiting him.

Danny and Jason share grins, and throw their arms around each other with laughter. Danny is on cloud nine, pressing his nose into Jason's shoulder and breathing him in, fingers digging into the back of his suit hard enough to leave wrinkles in his jacket.

Sam demands answers when they finally, for real this time, pull apart. Why didn't he tell her that he was friends with Jason Todd!? Danny slings his arm around Jason's shoulders and keeps him close, and tells her that it was because he wanted it to be a surprise.

Sam's parents have unreadable expressions on their faces, part greed -- Danny is their in to the elusive Bruce Wayne -- and part disdain -- a Gotham street rat. Danny ignores them, they're unimportant in the grand scheme of things.

He introduces Sam to Jason, and Jason to Sam. And off they go to a corner of the room near the buffet table where they can eat and shit talk everyone else in the room in peace.

At some point in the night Sam is called back to her parents to meet some other fancy rich kids her parents want her to get along with, and Danny and Jason go off to the west end balcony to avoid anyone who may try and approach the new Gotham ward.

Danny hops up onto the balcony railing, kicking his feet as Jason pulls a cigarette pack out of his inner jacket pocket, and grins. "Don't tell Bruce," he says, handing the box to Danny first. "He's been trying to get me to quit."

"Hah!" Danny takes one just as Jason slips out a lighter. "That sounds like Jazz. She's been trying to get me to stop since we moved to Amity." Granted, she's been trying ever since she found out before they moved, but now she was even more insistent. "She hasn't found my stash yet."

At the end of the night when the Mansons are leaving and Danny has to leave with them, he walks back to Mister Wayne with Jason to tell him that he's leaving. Mister Wayne mourns his going, and tells him that he's always able to come visit.

"Any friend of Jason's is always welcome to the manor." He says with a blinding grin, pulling Jason close to his side and squeezing him tight. Jason's nose scrunches up, but he doesn't push away.

It becomes a new routine for them. The Mansons are all too happy to bring him with to the Wayne Galas (of which they start receiving more invites to due to their connection with Danny) and Danny is all too happy to spend the evening with Jason again. No matter what, they always end up on the balcony at some point in the night.

And, eventually, Danny is invited to stay at Wayne Manor either for a weekend or for a break. He jumps at the chance when winter break rolls around and his parents start their debate over Santa Claus again.

Danny and Jason stay up late into the night talking or playing video games during their sleepovers, and in the warmer nights they climb out and onto the roof to stargaze. Danny points out constellations - - things he can find in neither Gotham or Amity -- and rambles on and on about space.

There are plenty of times during the Wayne Galas that the event gets attacked by a rogue. More often than he'd like he loses Jason in the crowd, and has later stopped Robin or Batman in his panic to find him.

The first time it happened, he was in tears with terror. He grabbed onto Batman's cape, stopping the man from going back in as he babbled that his Jason Todd was still inside, that he disappeared during the chaos and he couldn't find him. Batman took his hands and calmly told him that he'd find Jason for him, and that he was sure he was okay, but he needed to calm down.

He found Jason later once everything had calmed down, and he screamed at him for disappearing during a rogue attack, if he ever did it again he'll kill him. Then he cried.

The second time it happened, Danny didn't even realize that Jason was gone until everything was already over. They'd been separated before the attack happened. He stopped Robin and Batman before they could leave, trying to keep his breathing under control as he asked again, if they had seen Jason Todd.

"That- that asshole keeps fucking ditching me when these things happen." His voice has an embarrassing wobble in it. "Please-- please tell me you've seen him, that he's alright."

Robin this time steps up to reassure him, that Jason Todd was out of the building. He got him out. "He's probably looking for you too, uhhh..."

"Danny" Danny says, and eyes him up and down. "You're the new Robin right?"

Robin stilled up, and Danny could understand it a little. He'd seen the thoughts on the new Robin online. He wasn't very popular at first. Robin nods curtly, and Batman was shuffled a little closer to him, almost protectively.

Danny grins at him. "Cool." He says, "Me and Jay used to sneak out onto the rooftops sometimes to try and spot Batman and the first Robin, we made it a game." He holds out a fistbump, "Thanks for doing what you do, man. I might not live in Gotham anymore, but I mean it. You're a living legend."

Robin looks like there's something stuck in his throat, and after a beat he returns the fistbump tentatively. "Th- uh, thanks." He stumbles out awkwardly, and then turns away, "Me and B- uh, better go."

Before Danny could even respond, Robin already had his grapple in hand and was grappling away. "You too, Batman." Danny says before Batman can follow.

When Danny sees Jason after that, and weight lifts off his chest and he hits him in the arm again. And then complains that he should have gotten Batman and Robin's autograph, it would have been epic.

By the fifth time it happens, Danny is cussing up a storm when Robin saves him, cursing out Jason and claiming that he needs to put that boy on a fucking leash. "We're a duo!" He scowls when Robin gets him outside, "I got his back, he has mine! I can't have his back when he's got no back to fucking have."

The eighth time it happens, Danny gets held hostage by one of the henchmen. He's become a recognizable friend of the Waynes, and when the Waynes are nowhere to be found, then the next best thing was up to offer. Danny isn't even mad this time around -- just relieved that Jason was fucking off somewhere where he couldn't get hurt.

Robin, however, seemed furious when he arrived, and broke the hostager's jaw with a single flying kick to the face. Jason found him rapidly quick soon after the situation had settled, and apologized over and over again.

Danny slings an arm around his shoulder and laughs that it was fine, Robin saved the day! His legs were shaking with the worn off adrenaline, something he tried to hide from Jason. "I'm just glad it was me instead of you, Jay." He grins. Jason looks like he swallowed a toad.

Jason stops disappearing as often after that, sticking close to Danny's side until the attack was over.

When Danny is fourteen, Jason dies, and his world unravels.

He calls the manor on a late night in April after Jason had stopped responding to his texts. Danny knew that Jason was just recently in a fight with Bruce, but he knows that Bruce loves Jason. He would know where he is, right?

When he calls, Bruce answers with a hoarse "hello?" as if he'd been crying all day, and Danny's blood turns to ice. The anxiety he'd been feeling beforehand doubles in size, and he feels himself stammering.

"Mister- uh- Mister Wayne? Um, I'm calling because Jason--" he hears Bruce inhale sharply on the other line, and his anxiety skyrockets into fear. "--hasn't been answering any of my texts and- and I'm gettin' real worried."

There's silence on the other end, and Danny feels a rock forming in his throat, gross and heavy like he was on the verge of throwing up. "Mister- Bruce? Mister B?"

There's a shaky breath, and then Bruce's voice crackles through the phone. "Um-- Jason, he, he's--" there's a sound like rustling, "he's been killed."

Danny's vision whites out with skyrocketing terror, his mind skidding to a stop. His body rapidly grows hot, and then chills, like a blacksmith striking a heated weapon. "What?"

When the phone call ends, Danny screams himself hoarse. Jazz and his parents come running into his room, his parents equipped with ghost weapons. Instead, they find Danny curled up in his bed, sobbing hoarsely.

Danny almost -- almost -- refuses to attend the funeral, nearly paralyzed with grief. Jazz coaxes him to go, to find closure if anything else, and he drags himself out of bed to go.

He feels numb the entire time. It's closed casket, so he can't even see him for one last time before Jason is buried in the ground. He's silent, and if he think he looks bad, then Bruce looks even worse, like he hadn't slept since Jason died and worse.

Danny grabs his sleeve before he leaves, and when Bruce turns to him with a dull look in his once vibrant eyes, he clings to him tightly. And cries. Bruce clings back just as tight, Danny feels tears drip into his hair.

"Who did it." Danny whispers, voice too hurt to speak any louder, when he pulls back. His fingers curl around Bruce's jacket tightly, desperately. His eyes hurt with tears. "You said he was murdered, B. Please, who did it."

Bruce looks down at him, and for the first time it really does feel like he's looking down at him. His face is blank, and his eyes close in grief. There is no answer, a silent no.

Danny's face twists up all ugly like, and he shakes Bruce's jacket. "Bruce, please. Tell me who did it."

Bruce refuses, his face full of grief.

Danny never returns to Gotham.

Prior to Jason's death and post their reunion, Danny had slowly begun to improve in school. He started caring more, he was putting in more effort, he was doing his homework and was actually enjoying class. There was the bullying from Dash and the A-Listers, but it wasn't anything he couldn't handle, he was ignoring them for the most part.

Come Monday after the funeral, and Danny breaks Dash's nose when he starts up with his shit. He withdrew into himself, and it was like he was back to square one again, except this time it was much worse.

Everyone knew Danny was close friends with Jason Todd. So when news of his death finally reached the ears of Amity Park, the students of Casper High School kept their distance.

That following Friday, Danny dies in the portal and comes back. A month later he becomes Phantom, the ghost-fighting ghost. the ghost Phantom wears his hazmat suit partially undone, showing a tanktop he didn't wear in death under the initial suit while the sleeves are tied around his waist. Vicious, glowing lichtenburg scars travel up his arm and neck and torso, covering half of his face while a pair of scientist-like goggles covers his eyes. He's bitter and angry, showing off his death.

Look at me, Phantom's form says, I am a dead child. Look at me look at me look at me. Mourn me. I am a dead child. LOOK AT ME. MOURN ME.

A few weeks later he enters the ghost zone and realizes that he could find Jason. And he spends a weekend scouring the ghost zone for him. He finds Gotham in the zone, and rather than finding Jason, he finds Robin.

Danny didn't know he'd died. And he flies towards him, asks him if he's seen Jason, reveals that it's him, Danny Fenton. Robin stares at him, mouth agape, and peels off his mask to reveal Jason Todd.

They both cry, and when Danny tells him how he died, Jason looks pale in the face. "You didn't- you didn't kill yourself because of me, did you?"

Danny fervently denies it. No, no. He didn't, he didn't. It was an accident. Totally unrelated. But enough about that, what the hell happened? Bruce wouldn't tell him anything at the funeral.

Jason clams up, his ghostly face losing its color, and Danny curses himself. He tells Jason that he doesn't have to tell him, he doesn't have to say anything. They sit in silence.

"It was the Joker." Jason says.

That's all Danny needs to know. He nods quietly. 'I'll kill him.' He thinks to himself, a stubborn set in his jaw. "Okay."

It had always been a plan; a thought wriggling in the back of Danny's mind ever since Bruce told him that Jason had been killed.

Not died. Killed.

Danny wanted the fucker dead the moment he realized it. He just needed to know who did it. He thinks Bruce knew it too, could probably see it in his eyes the moment Danny asked him who did it. He isn't sure if he should hate Bruce more for keeping it from him now.

They spend hours together, just soaking in each other's presence. Danny tries to take him through the ghost portal, to bring him back to the land of the living. But much like Kitty, Jason's form is tied to the zone. Danny promises to visit every day.

And he does. Or he tries to. The grief doesn't go away, but with the comfort of knowing that Jason was on the other side, Danny feels a little better. He tells Jason about being Phantom, and Jason helps train him. It feels like they're kids again and are fighting just because they want to. Its a bout of familiarity in a place that feels unfamiliar. All they need are cigarettes.

And then six months later he loses him again. Danny scours the ghost zone for him for the second time, and this time he doesn't find him.

His haunt is still in the zone though. He didn't move on. He's still here, somewhere.

Danny is convinced that Jason was in the Elsewhereness, and looks for him in between ghost fights and his social life. He visits Jason's haunt every day, knowing that Jason should be able to feel when another ghost enters his home. He does not show up.

(He never thinks that Jason came back to life, and Jason doesn't remember his time in the ghost zone)

When Danny is nineteen, Vlad Masters blackmails him into going to another Wayne Gala. Begrudgingly, Danny goes. He's taller than he used to be, having inherited his dad's monstrous height and his mom's leanness. He has piercings, some of them he got after a lost bet from Sam and Tucker, and he's given himself an undercut.

He still prefers vests over suit jackets, and he still smokes. A little less than before, he sneaks a pack into his pocket before he leaves, along with a lighter. Vlad gives him a dirty look the whole time - he knows.

"Don't give me that look." "That stuff kills, you know" "I'm already dead."

It's like deja vu when he arrives; an awful bout of deja vu, that is. The paparazzi is still as bright and loud and annoying as it always was, and they don't recognize him at all. Something he thinks of as a soft mercy up until one of the reporters asks Vlad who he is.

Vlad smiles and tugs Danny into the camera frame, "Why, this is my godson!" He crows, and shoots Danny a look that is downright smug I'm sure many of you may know him as Daniel Fenton?"

If looks could kill, Vlad would be ash. Danny isn't quite sure why he still agreed to this -- blackmail or no. He felt itchy being in Gotham; jumpy. He's never forgotten his vow to kill the Joker, in fact it was something he still desperately wants.

But the threat of Rath, the name he chose for his evil future self, haunts him just as much as his murderous intent. If he kills the Joker, would he stop?

Danny's almost afraid of what he'll do if he ever lays eyes on the Joker in person. He doesn't think he'll be able to stop himself from wrapping his hands around that stupid clown's neck and watching the light leave his eyes.

He pushes the thoughts to the side, and smiles lopsidedly as cameras and microphones flood his face, reporters yelling over themselves as they clamor to get a shot of the old Wayne family friend.

Danny turns and walks inside without answering a single question, flexing his fingers in and out of fists. Vlad gracefully hurries after him, and Danny can hear his glare burning into his back.

"You told me to come," Danny hisses to him once he's beside him, meeting Vlad's gaze piercingly, "not that I should play nice."

"Don't embarrass me, Daniel." Vlad hisses back, trying to look the upmost calm as eyes turn onto them. "I'll make you regret it."

"You embarrass yourself, fruitloop." Danny shoots back, walking away before Vlad could get a retort in. He sees Bruce Wayne on the other side of the room.

His heart seizes with nostalgia. He hasn't seen Bruce since Jason's funeral, hasn't spoken to him either. He doesn't know how to feel about him, but he'd been keeping tabs on Bruce both as himself and as Batman.

Danny's feet carry him forwards before he can think about it, silently weaving between the throng of rich people vying for his attention. It's only when he gets closer does he see the little shadow clinging to his side: Damian Wayne.

The newest little bird, Danny realizes, and stifles a smile at the surly expression on Damian's face as two older women coo over him. He reminded him of Sam, who had long since stopped coming to these things the moment she was able to.

The feeling of eyes on him turns Danny's attention away from Damian, and instead finds them back on Bruce's, who stares at him with a little furrow between his brows. As if he recognized him, but he wasn't sure from there.

Danny grins crookedly the moment he's within earshot. "Mister B!" He exclaims, slipping into what remained of his Gotham street accent. Recognition flashed in Bruce's eyes, and the man smiled widely. "Long time no see, old man."

"Danny," Bruce says, his name breathing out like relief. He slips between the crowd surrounding him -- who are now watching Danny -- and pulls Danny into a close hug. "It's good to see you again."

Danny hesitates for a moment -- he wasn't expecting Bruce to hug him -- and returns the gesture. "It's good to see you too, Bruce." He admits. Bruce was still using the same cologne that he did when Danny was a kid. He blinks heavily.

He pulls away quickly, clapping Bruce lightly on the shoulder as Damian quickly latches onto his father's side again. Damian glares daggers at him, fingers digging into Bruce's pantlegs like a possessive little kid.

He made Danny's ghost sense tingle in the back of his throat, creeping up slowly like a spider before stopping suddenly before it reached his mouth. It hummed, and then disappeared.

Danny smothered a frown. Since when did Batman work with ectoplasm? “This must be Damian." He says to Bruce, and holds out a hand to Damian -- he doesn't crouch, he had a feeling that Damian would be less than appreciative if he did that. "You've really expanded the nest since the last time I saw you."

Damian's eyes narrow at him. Bruce laughs lightly, "Ah yes, Tim is around here somewhere. I'm sure you'll see him soon."

"Father," Damian says, his voice layered with an accent. He glares up at Danny with piercing green eyes. "How do you know this man?" He sounds distrustful, Danny respects that and drops his hand.

"This is Danny Fenton." Bruce says, and Danny lets him introduce him. "He was Jason's friend."

An expression similar to bewilderment flashes briefly over Damian's face, and he eyes Danny in disbelief. "Todd had friends?"

Oh. So that's how he wanted to be. Bruce had a little elitist on his hands. Danny's smile drops like a deadweight, and any lingering endearment he had hardens like ice in his chest, fury slowly taking its place like a flickering candlelight. "It's not polite to speak ill of the dead, Mister Wayne." He says coldly, his voice made of chips of ice.

Damian blinks, the disbelief disappearing from his face. The closest thing to a recoil Danny thinks he's going to get. He doesn't care. No one speaks about his best friend that way.

"I grew up with Jason, actually." He continues, breathing in slow and deep, trying to keep the ghostly possessive-protective-rage under control. "I was his best friend."

He turns, almost robotically, towards Bruce, and tries not to look so angry. "I'm going to go find Tim, Mister B." He says, and tries to offer up a weak smile for the man. It comes out as a grimace instead.

"And..." he pauses, flicks his eyes towards Damian, and then looks at Bruce. "I'll... try and keep in contact, B. Tell Dick I said hi, alright? I'll see you in a little bit."

Bruce nods, looking vaguely disappointed and sighing slow through his nose. Danny walks away as Bruce turns to address his youngest, and doesn't bother listening in on what he has to say.

He does, eventually, find Tim Drake. He spots him in a crowd instantly - it's hard not to, and he makes his way over to him. He's not sure Tim Drake would recognize him, Bruce didn't at first and Danny had been around him constantly.

Except Tim Drake does recognize him, much to Danny's surprise. They lock eyes and Tim immediately makes his way over to him. "Danny Fenton!" He says and stops in front of him, "What a surprise, we weren't expecting you tonight."

"Tim Drake," Danny replies, smiling a little as his earlier hurt begins to fade away. "I'm surprised you know me."

"There are pictures of you in the manor with Jason." Tim explains, stuffing his hands into his pockets with an easy-going smile. "It's hard not to know you."

"It’s hard not to know you too,” Danny retorts, a sly smile slowly spreading across his face. “Although you’re a lot taller than you used to be, when you were lurking around Bruce and Jason and I.”

Ohhh Danny recognizes him alright. One part due to all the news articles and tabloids on him after he was adopted by Bruce, and the other part because he remembers the little shadow lurking near plants pots and table legs that used to follow him and Jason around at galas just like these.

Knowing that Jason was Robin, he wonders if Jason knew he was there too.

The effect is immediate: Tim’s eyes grow comically large, and a red tint glows at the tip of his ears as he shrinks back like a turtle trying to hide into its shell. “You— you noticed that!?” He hisses.

“I did!” Danny grins, large and wide, stifling a laugh as the red tint spreads over Tim’s cheeks and nose. He looks mortified. Danny coos. “Aww, I thought it was adorable that Jason had a little shadow. I’m sure he would have loved you if you had just come over and said hi. He had a big soft spot for kids.”

Tim snorts and it— it almost sounds derisive? “Sure he would.” He looks sad, and the mirth in Danny’s chest shrivels up like a flower without light. The smile fades from his face, and all that’s left is a strange, staunch reminder that Danny and Bruce weren’t the only ones that probably mourned.

He touches Tim’s shoulder lightly, “Hey, I’m sorry.” He says, trying to look as apologetic as he feels. “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. I’m sorry, I miss him too.” Like a fucking limb he missed him.

There’s something that flickers in Tim’s eyes, passing through too fast for Danny to realize what it is. He assumes its gratefulness, because Tim relaxes a little and offers him a weak little smile. “I wish I had talked to him.”

Danny sees an out and takes it, he forces out a short laugh, grinning widely. “I can tell you all about him if you’d like,” he offers, “I told Mister B I’d keep in touch anyways. I’ve missed him and Alfred quite a lot in the last few years.”

“Not Dick?”

“That dipstick wasn’t around often enough for me to form any sort of emotional attachment to him.” Danny says in a half-complaining tone, placing his hands on his hips. “Although I did like his puns.”

Tim snickers, “I’ll tell him you said that then. Nobody likes his puns.”

“Go on ahead,” Danny grins, laughter swirling in his chest and making his core thrum with warmth. Damn, he’s missed this family. “I stand by my decision. Puns are funny.”

“Let’s get a photo then.” Tim says with a hand already fishing in his pocket for his phone. “He’ll be devastated to know that you were here and he didn’t get to see you.”

“Sure.” And Danny sidles on next to Tim, throwing an arm around his shoulders — and making a noise of surprise when his arm was able to fit comfortably — as if he was just resting it on a counter.

He totally forgot how tall he was compared to Tim. Forgot that he’d been looking down the entire time they’d been talking. “Why’d I get my dad’s height.” He complains, and bends his knees as Tim raises the phone with the front-facing camera on.

Tim snickers under his breath, and takes the picture while they’re both smiling wide. Danny immediately stands up, and peers over Tim’s shoulders to look at the picture.

It’s a good one, with the fringe of Danny’s curls falling slightly over his left eye and making the dimple on his right cheek more prominent. He could see the barely-there smattering of freckles he had across his nose, the ones that became more prominent when the sun was out. His smile was lopsided, Danny’s favorite kind of smile.

He whistles lowly, “That’s a good one,” he says aloud, and smiles impishly at Tim when he looks at him. “You should send that one, I look hot in it.”

Tim snorts, his ears reddening as he looks down at his phone. “Yeah sure, no problem.” He says quickly, and Danny looks away when he pulls up the messenger app. He’s never felt comfortable looking over people’s shoulders when they were on their phone.

“I’m gonna go take a smoke break.” He shoves his hands into his pockets and curls his fingers around the box and lighter inside. “I’ll—“

“Be on the west-end balcony.” Tim finishes, the red in his ears darkening as he glances up from his phone to smile embarrassedly. “I know.”

Danny snorts, “Okay.” His voice is thick with amusement. “Let me know how Dipstick reacts, alright?” He backs up slowly, awaiting Tim’s response. Tim merely waves a hand at him, a weak gesture of “yeah yeah” that makes Danny grin before he flips around and marches towards his favorite smoking balcony.

———————

(Tim pulls up the family group chat and loads the selfie into the text bar. His face feels warm with embarrassment even as his thumbs fly across the screen.

Tim: look who i found at the latest charity gala :) [image]

Hee awaits eagerly a response, and finds he doesn’t have to wait long. Dick’s thought bubble appears on screen, then Cass’s — of which it only exists for a moment before disappearing.

Dick: holy shit, is that who i think it is?

Tim responds quickly, and his message sends.

Tim: yep. He wanted me to tell you that he thinks your jokes are funny.

Dick: they are funny

Tim rolls his eyes and thinks for a moment, really thinks. He weighs his pros and cons. And then his fingers fly across the screen again.

Tim: hey Jason are you not gonna say anything?

There’s no response for all of thirty seconds — of which it stretches on to an uncomfortably long minute — and then Jason’s thought bubble appears.

Jason: what do i have to say to a bunch of idiots blowing up my phone in the middle of patrol?

Tim: harsh. do you recognize the guy in the photo?

Jason’s response is instant. Too fast for him to have actually looked at the photo itself. He’s just trying to spite Tim then. Tim doesn’t care, he has the upper hand here

Jason: no and I don’t care, i have patrol

Tim knows he didn’t look at the photo, and yet he can’t help stifle a shit-eating smile and feign innocence

Tim: really? You and Danny used to be so close, color me surprised

His teeth dig into his lower lip, he doesn’t need to in order to hide a smile. But it gives him something to do. Jason is worryingly silent for a long, long time, and Tim can almost imagine him staring long and hard at the selfie. Tim knows he will be later.

Finally, Jason’s text bubble shows up. It exists for a long time, before finally Tim’s phone buzzes with his message alert.

Jason: that’s danny?

Tim feels all too gleeful. Smugness swirling in his chest like kicked up sand as he types his response: yep! Apparently he showed up today, although I’m not sure with who since I don’t see Miss Manson around here.

Damian: Father says to get off your phone, Drake. We are at a Gala and your behavior is most unbecoming

Tim: can it demon spawn, I was just telling Jason that his friend Danny is here

Damian: He can’t be too important if he doesn’t even know Todd is alive

Tim: how would you know that?

Damian: When Father introduced him as Todd’s friend, I expressed my surprise that Todd even had friends, considering how unpleasant he can be. Fenton became quite cross with me after that and quickly excused himself thereafter

Dick: you said what!? Damian that’s not okay

Damian: Father made that quite clear after Fenton left in a huff. My mistake for thinking that Todd had told his ‘supposed best friend’ that he was alive.

Dick: he didn’t even tell us we were alive at first

Damian: He did eventually, didn’t he? Clearly Todd doesn’t seem to care too much about Fenton if he hasn’t even informed him of his being alive at this point.

Jason’s thought bubble quickly pops up, and then dissipates, then pops up again. Tim quickly pockets his phone before he can see Jason’s response. He doesn’t feel smug anymore, just uncomfortable.)

———————

Stepping out onto the west-end balcony feels like a blast from the past. A painful one at that. Danny’s fingers dig into his cigarette pack, and he pulls it out with a sense of bittersweet familiarity.

It feels like a lifetime ago that he once stood here with Jason. The package clunks dully as his fingers scrape against the side, and he fishes a cigarette out of the box before stuffing it back into his pocket.

“Quite the night isn’t it.” He says to nothing, to ghosts of the past, to himself. He turns and sits on the railing, sticking his legs out like a tripping hazard while Gotham’s hot city wind blows through the air.

He looks up and only sees the ugly pollution yellow sky looking down at him. It’s an unfamiliar feeling to him. He loves the stars and yet when faced with a smog that covers it, he feels more at home.

Danny’s fingers find the lighter, and with a few clicks a small open flame appears in existence. There’s a poem here, he can feel it. But he feels too tired to find it.

The cigarette lights, and the lighter dies in response. Returning back to his coffin-like pocket until he needs to use it again. He pulls a leg up, resting his chin on his knee with a heavy, tired sigh.

He soaks in the sounds around him. The ugly city warmth nips at his jaw. The music inside is muffled by the force of two glass doors and walls on all four sides, and Danny can hear late night traffic coming by on the road nearby. It’s a special kind of ambience you can only find on the west end balcony.

Half a decade ago, Danny had played a part with that ambience with Jason. Now it was just him, and Jason was nowhere to be found. It left a hopeless kind of feeling in his chest. An all-suffocating kind of fear that filled him head to toe with an intensity only ghosts could have.

His body winds up like a spring, and Danny holds his breath. When he exhales two minutes later, the spring stutters and jolts, and his body relaxes with a tremble.

He misses Jason. He misses Jason.

Ghosts are emotional creatures. They feel it from their crown to their soles. And emotional wounds never really heal. They scab over and fester, waiting to be picked at again and again so it can bleed as fresh as it did when it first opened.

Danny’s grief is never going to go away, he thinks. It’s clung to him like a parasite; shaped him and molded him. The wound was too close to him when he died, and now it will stay with him forever.

He opens his eyes when his ghost sense tingles, a heavy feeling in his throat that is neither nicotine nor grief. It’s just like Damian’s, but stronger. Potent. Older. It reaches the top of Danny’s throat and sits at the base of his tongue, like a hand about to suffocate him.

He looks up, cigarette hanging off his lips, and the Red Hood drops down beside him. He stands in the same spot Jason once did, and that alone makes the ghostly core in Danny seize possessively.

Don’t you dare stand where he stood, it hisses, coiling around his lungs like smog. Danny grits his teeth and feels his ghost sense evaporate. He pulls the cigarette out of his mouth, and nicotine smoke pours out like a cheap version of his ghost sense.

“Red Hood.” He says plainly, his free hand coiling and uncoiling like cat’s claws against the railing. “A surprise to see you here.”

Danny knows through process of elimination who most of the Gotham vigilantes are: Dick is Nightwing, Bruce is Batman, Tim is Red Robin, Damian is Robin, and Cass is Orphan. There are a few who he doesn’t know, however. Like Batgirl and Red Hood.

It’s fine, he doesn’t need to know. Danny of all people understands the importance of a secret identity.

Red Hood doesn’t say anything, just stares at him as if he’s a deer in headlights. His body all tensed up like he isn’t sure what to do now that he’s here in front of Danny. Like he wasn’t expecting Danny to be here at all.

Danny’s brows furrow. “Sorry, am I in your spot?” He asks, and begins to push off the railing. “I didn’t think vigilantes used the Wayne Hall west-end balcony, I can leave if you want.”

He’s already begun to move towards the door.

The Red Hood lurches in his spot, “No!” He yells, and Danny stops in place with raising eyebrows. Red Hood’s fingers cringe, and he straightens up.

He’s shorter than Danny, he notes. Which isn’t much of revelation. Everyone is shorter than Danny.

“No,” Red Hood repeats, sounding sturdier than before, “No. You’re fine. I’m just stopping here for a quick rest before resuming patrol.”

…Danny doesn’t question it. It’s none of his business about other vigilantes and their practices. He shrugs and breathes out more smoke, “Alright.” He says, and walks back over to the railing to sit on it. “I’m Danny, by the way.”

The Red Hood nods, and a silence falls over them. Danny doesn’t care enough to make it feel uncomfortable, but the Red Hood seems unsettled by something. Lost in thought. He leans his back against the railing similar to Danny, and then switches a few seconds later to a new pose.

He does it again, and again, and again. Until finally he flips over and leans his stomach against the railing, arms resting against it. It is starkly like what Jason used to do, and Danny stares at him long and hard.

He frowns. And says nothing.

When Danny’s cigarette is nothing more than a butt of nicotine, he crushes it in his hand and watches the ash flutter down to the ground. The heat stings his hand, but its nothing his ghostly healing can’t fix.

The Red Hood is already holding out another one when Danny’s hand drifts to his pocket for the box.

Danny stares at him, sudden wariness opening up like floodgates that sit at the bottom of his stomach.

His frown deepens, his eyes flicker up and down at Red Hood. His hands hover over his pocket. “I have my own.” He says, and watches subtly as the Red Hood hides a wilt. As if he’d been expecting Danny to take it.

“Alright.” The Red Hood says, trying to sound unbothered. He retracts the cigarette away from Danny, quiet all the way. He’s looking away.

Danny plucks the cigarette out of his hand, startling the Hood enough that Red snaps back to look at him. Danny yanks his lighter from his pocket. “I won’t say no to a free cigarette.” He says, slightly muffled with the stick between his teeth. It lights.

Silence falls over them again, and when one minute stretches into five, whatever hope that had been digging into the shoulders of Red Hood finally pulls away and leaves him slumping subtly.

‘A ciggie for your thoughts?’ Nine year old Jason Todd whispers one night with an impish grin, holding up a cigarette pinched between his two fingers. ‘I stole it from my old man. He won’t even notice its gone.’

Danny is halfway through it when he speaks. “The Joker killed my best friend.” He says, and watches from the corner of his eye as the Red Hood flinches. Is he startled by Danny speaking, or startled by the bluntness of him starting?

“He beat him to death.” Danny continues, staring stone-faced away from Red Hood. His grief claws up his lungs and burrows into his heart again. His fingers dig into the railing. “He beat my best friend to death.”

The Red Hood is silent, his body as still as the grave. Silence stretches out between them both, and like he’d been thinking, the Hood finally speaks: “How do you know?”

He’s not holding the cigarette, he broke his and Jason’s rule. Danny bounces the stick between his fingers. “His ghost told me.” He says, taking a trembling breath. “His ghost told me so, before he disappeared.”

The Red Hood says nothing, and Danny gathers his thoughts. The ones that had been buried deep next to his core, shoved down ever since Danny learned of Rath and a terrible future where a world is destroyed by one ghost’s hands.

Danny has never said it out loud before. His face scrunches up briefly, and then smooths out when his eyes squeeze shut. “I’m going to kill him, Red Hood.” He murmurs when he opens his eyes, turning his face toward the vigilante. The sound is sucked out of the air.

The Red Hood stares at him, but he doesn’t say a word. Danny pushes on, teeth grinding into teeth as he flips his silvery scarred hand back and forth. Palm up, palm down. “It’s why I haven’t been back to Gotham in a while.” He admits, voice still quiet. “If I see the Joker I will kill him, and I won’t feel bad for it.”

“Not today though,” he says, and closes his hand, “today I’m here on a favor to Vlad Masters. Then after this I’ll go visit my friend. I need to apologize for not seeing his grave in a while. I’ll have to stop by a florist to see if they have any zinnias. Jay likes those.”

He takes out the cigarette in his mouth and breathes out one last cloud of smoke. And then he crushes the cigarette stick under his foot and walks back inside.

#dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc #danny fenton is not the ghost king #dpxdc crossover #childhood friends au #dead on main #looking at how long this response post is really puts into perspective how i managed to write 9k words

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pthalomars · 4 years ago

Text

Ninjago fanseason!

Here’s the first part of my synopsis post, I’ll make sure to reblog it and add more of my summary as I write it out.

Trigger Warnings for this: blood/gore, hospitals+surgery, injury, there will probably be more and I will make sure to tag accordingly (if there’s anything else that I miss, please let me know so I can tag it!!)

Anyways, here’s how it starts...

Battle in Ninjago City

A group of assailants are on the rise in ninjago city. The ninja show up to thwart their latest attack and a battle ensues on the streets. The assailants are spread throughout the city, so the ninja are forced to split up into teams. Cole with Jay, Zane with Nya, and Lloyd with Kai.

Lloyd and Kai are fending off their attackers, but Kai notices something is wrong. His powers aren’t working. Pathetic flames are sputtering out of his palms and fizzling out into smoke. He’s losing his powers again.

While Kai is distracted, one of the enemies has a laser gun trained on him, ready to strike and take him out. Lloyd jumps in front of Kai at the last minute, taking the laser beam straight through his left shoulder. Dangerously close to his heart. Kai and Lloyd are on the ground, and when Kai comes to his senses, he frantically gets him and Lloyd into an alleyway for cover.

Lloyd is losing a lot of blood, and Kai is doing his best to tend to his wounds. He screams into the com that Lloyd is down and that they need medical help, now. Zane assures him that an ambulance is on the way, and to stay with Lloyd until paramedics show up.

The attackers start to make their way into the alley, only to be strewn aside by Nya and Zane. Cole and Jay have showed up as well, and now Kai and Lloyd are at least safe from them. Kai has Lloyd propped up against a wall, keeping pressure on his wound and telling him that he’s gonna be alright. Lloyd is whimpering in pain and tears fall from his eyes and stain his red-painted gi. “It hurts..” Lloyd murmurs. Kai lets out a choked sob and holds him close. “I know, I know it does buddy. It’s gonna be okay, you’re gonna be okay I promise.”

Medics finally show up and get Lloyd out of there. Kai and Nya are able to ride in the ambulance, and so they make their way to the nearest hospital.

The Ambulance

The ambulance ride is tense. Paramedics are working to stabilize Lloyd enough so that he can survive until they arrive at the hospital. Kai and Nya are shoved in a corner, as to not get in the way of the medics. Kai doesn’t say anything, his eyes are empty and he’s a million miles away in his mind. Nya is beginning to process the events of that day too, and all she can do is look between her brothers and silently let her tears fall.

She leans on Kai and goes to hold his hand to comfort him, but she stops short of his wrists. He still has so much of Lloyd’s blood on his hands. It’s on his gi, it’s in his hair, it’s underneath his fingernails. She figures it’s best to hold his arm, so she does. Thankfully, the ride is short, and they make it there in time for Lloyd to go into emergency surgery.

The Hospital

Lloyd is rushed into surgery and Kai and Nya are left in the lobby of the hospital. Kai wants to be near Lloyd, so he stays as close as staff will allow him to. Which means he ends up sitting on the ground in a hallway for a very long time.

Nya sits with him for a while, before she gets up to get them snacks. Then to call the others and let them know where they are. Then to get some fresh air. She checks in on him periodically, but also figures he needs space to process what all happened that day.

Eventually, the others show up. Cole, Jay, Zane, Wu, and Misako arrive and start asking a million questions. Nya looks exhaustedly at them, and tells them that she’ll fill in the rest later. Jay leads Nya to sit down and Cole asks where Kai is. Nya points to the hallway across the room, and says that he should be at the end of the corridor.

Cole makes his way down the hall, and low and behold, Kai is still sitting in the same spot. The master of earth knees down, putting a comforting hand on Kai’s knee. Kai looks up for the first time in hours and Cole sees the dried tear streaks coming from his red and puffy eyes.

“Hey buddy, how are you holding up?” he asks. Kai averts his gaze and curls further into himself. Cole’s eyebrows pinch upwards, and he goes to move some of Kai’s hair out of his eyes. He notices the blood in his hair and worriedly asks him if he’s gotten medical attention. Very quietly, Kai says, “ ‘s not my blood.” and then Cole looks down at Kai’s clothes, and his hands. It finally clicks. It’s Lloyd’s blood.

Cole sighs, moving to stand up. “Let’s get you cleaned up, huh?” Kai doesn’t respond, but allows Cole to help him get on his feet. They make their way to the nearest bathroom.

Once in the bathroom, Kai starts to wash his hands. He watches as the dried blood begins to run off of his hands and drain into the sink. He scrubs and scrubs and scrubs, but his hands are still red. The water is scalding hot and he’s started to rub his skin raw. Cole sees Kai become increasingly upset and then notices his hands again. Steam is rising from the sink and there’s no more blood. Cole turns off the sink and grabs paper towels. He dries off Kai’s hands as delicately as he can before looking at him. “Your hands are clean, Kai. They’re clean.” Cole brings Kai in for a hug and Kai shatters in his arms. Cole presses a kiss to the top of Kai’s head and wraps his arms tighter around him. They hold each other for a long time before they finally leave the bathroom.

Cole brings Kai to the lobby, where everybody is sitting together, finding ways to pass the time. Zane and Jay go to stand up and greet Kai, but Cole gives them a soft, warning sort of look. A look that tells them that Kai isn’t ready for that quite yet. They sit back down.

A nurse comes out and informs them all of Lloyd’s condition. He’s alive and he’s stable, but he’s going to need to stay at the hospital for a while until his condition improves. And unfortunately, they aren’t able to let the ninja stay with him through the night. They have to go home. Kai protests, stating that he needs to be there for Lloyd, that he can’t just leave him alone. Wu puts a hand on Kai’s shoulder and reassures him. “He’s in good hands, he will be okay for the night.” Wu says. After a moment, Kai sighs and reluctantly agrees to leave.

The First Night Home

The gang gets home and everyone is so exhausted from the events of the day. It’s about 1 in the morning and everyone heads to bed. Cole asks Kai if he wants to stay in his room. Kai nods and lets Cole lead him to his bed. They fall asleep in each other's arms, and Kai is too tired to cry anymore. Cole holds him and pets his hair. He could take a shower in the morning.

The first week(s) home

Each day that passes, Kai begins to come to a realization. Lloyd was hurt because he was protecting him. If he had been able to use his powers, Lloyd wouldn’t have had to get hurt. It was his fault that Lloyd was in the hospital, that he had a hole blasted straight through his shoulder, that he wasn’t home.

He still visits Lloyd every day. His little brother isn’t always awake, but he just needs to make sure he’s still alive. Usually one of the others will go with him, and sometimes everyone will tag along. Lloyd gets better with time and his recovery goes along smoothly.

Kai comes to another realization. Without his powers, he is useless. He can’t protect himself, let alone anyone else. The rest of the team has to compensate for him, and because of that, they get hurt. Kai has to leave.

The others notice that something is off with Kai. Cole, in particular, sees that he’s acting very differently. He asks him if everything is okay, and every time Kai responds with “I’m fine” or “it’s nothing important.” Part of Cole feels bad, and wonders if he’s being too pushy. But his concern for his boyfriend overpowers that minor worry.

Kai spends the majority of his time thinking over his departure. Where is he going? What is he going to do? Why is he leaving? He doesn’t have all the answers right away, but to him, that didn’t really matter. All that mattered to him was that he was a danger to those around him, and to keep the others safe, he had to take himself out of the picture for a while. At least until he got his powers back and could carry his own weight.

But he couldn’t leave. Not yet. He was going to wait until Lloyd came back home. He had to make sure he was going to be okay before he left. He had already failed him once, he didn’t want to make it worse by leaving without ensuring that he was in hands he could trust.

Lloyd comes back

Lloyd is finally able to be released from the hospital. The ninja have worked hard to get the monastery clean and ready for him to come back home. After what felt like forever, they would finally get to have him back.

The doctors gave strict orders that, even though Lloyd is stable enough to be released, that he must be given enough time to fully heal and recover from his injuries. No training, no fights, nothing. Just bed rest and lots of physical therapy sessions.

The gang brings Lloyd home and they all share very careful side hugs with their boy. Kai is so relieved to have Lloyd back, but he also knows that it was time for him to go.

They all sit down for dinner and the room is lighthearted. Everyone is laughing, cracking jokes, and enjoying each other's company. Except for Kai. He’s trying to fake it, but it’s painfully obvious that he just doesn’t have the energy. Nobody pushes him though, nor prods at him with questions. For once, Kai feels relieved that he isn’t being put under scrutiny.

Eventually, Kai excuses himself and heads to his room. He explains that it’s just a headache and that he was going to lay down for a bit.

After a short period of time, Cole gets up to go check on Kai. He knows it wasn’t just a headache.

(dialogue)

[[Cole: Hey babe, just wanted to check in on ya. Everything okay?

Kai: … jus’ not feeling well.

Cole: Do you want some company?

Kai: I’d rather be alone right now.

Cole: That’s okay. Just know that I’m here for you when you’re ready. I love you, Kai.

Kai: .. I love you too, Cole. I really do.

Cole: I know. I hope you sleep well, good night honey.

Kai: g’night, rocky.]]

Kai’s Departure

Later that night, everyone has gone to bed except for Kai. He’s laying in his bed, staring holes through the ceiling. He knew that he would leave once Lloyd came home. He was alive, recovering, and safe with everyone else now.

He gets up and starts packing the essentials. He realizes he’s gonna need different clothes for when he’s gone. There are multiple reasons for this. He needs to be less recognizable, he doesn’t want people to see him and immediately know who he is. His signature color reminds him of his failures, how his fire has both failed him in his times of need and hurt those around him. And most importantly, it reminds him of Lloyd’s blood that remained on him for so long. The way the blood dried on the fabric and never seemed to wash out from underneath his fingernails. He doesn’t like the color red anymore.

(as a characterization for his outfit, the colors are dark grey and black to resemble charcoal and ash. This is meant to be symbolic that his “fire” has been put out and that he has to find a way to “reginite” himself)

As Kai is putting together his new outfit, Wu walks in and sees what he’s doing.

[[Wu: Kai, what are you doing?

Kai: I’m.. I’m leaving.

Wu: Leaving? Why? Where are you going?

Kai: Master Wu, I.. I can’t do this anymore. I don’t have my powers, and I’m dragging everybody else down. I can’t even protect myself, let alone those I love, or even all of Ninjago. Everybody else has to pick up the slack that apparently I can’t carry on my own. People are getting hurt. My friends are getting hurt, Wu, and it’s my fault.

Wu: Is this about Lloyd?

Kai: Yes, yes of course it’s about Lloyd! He got hurt trying to protect me because I panicked and wasn’t paying attention. He could’ve died, and it would’ve been my fault.

Wu: Kai, you know he did that because he didn’t want you to get hurt. I’m sure you would have done the same.

Kai: Of course I would, but that doesn’t matter. There was- there was so much blood. He was crying and I had to keep pressure on the wound but it was hurting him and there wasn’t anything else I could do. There was so much blood, and it was everywhere. I was supposed to keep him safe. But I couldn’t because I don’t have my powers, again. You know how I reached my true potential because I realized I was supposed to protect the green ninja? Some fuckin’ protector I am, I couldn’t even keep him from getting shot and almost dying. AGAIN. It seems like every five minutes, I lose the only thing that makes me worth something!!

Wu: Kai-

Kai: You know, after all the years you’ve spent training us, training me, that I would be able to carry my own weight. But I can’t! I can’t and I don’t understand why! So- so I’m leaving. I can’t stand to see other people getting hurt, so I’m gonna go figure some things out. I’ll come back when I’m ready, but I just can’t do this right now. And don’t try to talk me out of this, I don’t wanna hear any-

Wu: I’m not going to try to talk you out of it.

Kai: -what?

Wu: Even if I tried to convince you otherwise, it is clear that your mind is made up. If this is what you have to do, and this is what you think is right, then go through with it. It is not my place to tell you what to do. You may be my student, but you are also a grown man and you are allowed to make your own decisions.

Kai: I.. wow I wasn’t expecting that..

Wu: I know, but I hope that it was better than hearing me chastise you and tell you that you weren’t allowed to leave.

Kai: Yeah, yeah it was better than that.

Wu: However, you must understand how your absence will affect the others. Have you told them that you’re leaving?

Kai: .. No.

Wu: They will be searching for answers, and they will most likely be looking for you.

Kai: I know. If they ask about me, you can tell them why I left. But don’t tell them where I’m going.

Wu: Why not?

Kai: Because even I don’t really know.

Wu: I understand. Please be safe, Kai. The monastery will always be your home, and we will be here for you when you are ready.

Kai: Thank you, Master Wu. Thank you.]]

Kai makes his way out, but as he is leaving, Lloyd looks out of his window. He sees Kai walk out of the monastery and into the night. But Lloyd is still in a sleepy daze, and immediately falls back asleep. He assumes it was all just a dream.

#ninjago #ninjago fanseason #ninjago a fire you can't put out #kai smith #lloyd garmadon #nya Smith #Cole brookstone #jay walker #zane julien #master wu #ninjago wu #ninjago misako #lavashipping #tw blood #tw gore #tw hospital #tw surgery #this isn't beta read just as a heads up lol

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beskarberry · 3 years ago

Text

Holy schnikes batman! It's been a WHOLE YEAR since I wrote Bargaining with Beskar?!

I never ever EVER imagined that my writing blog would take off like it did. When I wrote that first chapter on January 6th, 2021, I thought it was going to get drowned out by much more popular fics, washed away to the annuls of tungler never to be seen again. And that was ok by me, because I wrote it in a frantic haze at 3am because I was literally too horny to sleep and I had to DO something!!

Then I got a couple of reblogs, and some comments, and some followers that are still with me to this day that inspired me to add on to that first chapter (as well as FANART holy shitballs of hell!!), and the rest is history. 152k words and 5 months later I finished(?) that monstrosity on a high and hopeful note because it helped me get through some seriously tough times of my own.

Since the completion of BwB, I've gone on to write various other works for Pedro Pascal's characters, and though I can't thank the man personally for what he's done for me as a creator, I CAN thank the fandom for accepting me into their welcome arms, even when I started dragging eggs and tentacles through the doors...

This fandom, the Mando fandom and the PP fandom, and all the fandoms that are interlinked throughout, has introduced me to some of the most amazing, wonderful, creative, captivating, spellbinding, awe-inspiring, and downright FILTHIEST people I have ever had the absolute pleasure of getting to be friends with!!!

So from the bottom of my heart, I want to say thank you to everyone who came aboard the BwB starship with me, and thank you to those who came later when I started writing other fics and characters.

I also want to thank those who became inspired by my writing to go on to do writing of their own, to write the things they thought nobody would want to read or never thought they could be brave enough to write. And those who were inspired to draw art based on my fics as well! Some of you I have printed out hanging on my walls, but all of you I have saved in a personal folder that I have set as my computer desktop, so I see your art all the time! I love so much :3

This community has grown to be such an integral part of my life, and I was never much of a fandom person until you guys dragged me in here (affectionate) and I can confidently say that I have made lifelong friends because of it!

I work some pretty difficult hours at the hospital, sometimes 70-90 hours at a time, so getting content made and posted has been a real challenge for me, and I want you all to know how much I appreciate not only the people who are still following me, but also those that ARE capable of creating regular content! Thank you for being there when I could not, making amazing stories and fantastic works of art for me to enjoy and love!!

For my writers birthday, all I want is for all the wonderful creators in this fandom to know they're loved and appreciated, and if you want to send me an ask/tag me in something that deserves recognition, I'd love to promote it!

Thank you, I love you all!! Smooches and snooches 😘

Taglist

@amneris21 @absurdthirst @anaaaispunk @torictailor@221bshrlocked @kotemorons @mandoblowmybackout@the-scandalorian @littlemisspasca l@feralest-femme @capsheadquaters @fan-of-encouragement @beskarboobs @blackdogdesignuk @fandom-blackhole @adancedivasmom@pedroslilbitch @dincrypt @marydjarin @mrsparknuts@tanzthompson @Tintinn16 @insomniamamma @mindidjarin@poppunkdee @maievdenoir @wildmoonflower @readsalot73@mandocrasis @pinkninja200 @fic-appointment @pumpkin-stars@marvelranger @novemberrain221 @elinedjarin@pureprism21 @shadesofnerdlygrace@actuallyprettylucky @pastel-0-princess @missminkylove @nicolethered @green-socks@michi-readsamneris21 @beskarboobs @misscamptl @mswarriorbabe80 @feralhotmess @ezrasbirdie @alexxavicry@doin-stuff @kirsteng42 @t3a-bag @natashaispunk @c4psicle@daddys-minty-princess @iamskyereads

#bargaining with beskar #birthday

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helenazbmrskai · 3 years ago

Note

Hello Authortnim! I'm a new writer on tumblr and I was wondering if you have any tips for newbies like me?

I’m just a small blog but I’ll try to help you anon to the best of my abilities! I came up with a few things to share as I tried to put myself in my old-selfs shoes when I first started writing.

First and foremost I want to encourage newbie writers and those who think about becoming one to not be afraid to share your content with the world as you never know who will use your wonderful imagination as an escape from the outside world.

Just like writing makes us writers disconnect from work/school and other means of drama in our lives it helps us relax by typing out new ideas and share our work. It’s a two-way street! As a reader, you feel the same way when you discover a work that makes you forget your problems. Those who write often started with reading first.

Check out my tips under the cut!

TIP 1, FORMAT

It’s mostly networks (we’ll talk about them later!) that require you to make sure you place warnings, pairings, word count etc before the beginning of your fics but it helps the readers greatly to identify your work and see if she/he is interested in reading your story based on these things.

I noticed that new writers just copy-paste the story and click post which often results in having few likes and reblogs because the readers get intimidated by the raw text offering no insight into what they should be looking forward to. If I just think about an everyday example to point out why it’s important let me ask you what you look at first when you pick up a book in a bookstore? The summary right? You get a glimpse of the storyline the characters, the genre. You make your pick based on that.

I’ll create a list down below and explain shortly why it is important to tell these things.

Title – It’s optional, I sometimes do this and other times I just place the title of my fic on my banners. It helps the readers identify your work by name so make sure to always put a name next to your fics/series.

Genre – There’s a lot of genres you can choose from, the popular three is (angst, smut and fluff)

Angst: when a fic is angsty it means that there’s a conflict, a misunderstanding etc that will make the reader feel sad for the characters or sympathise with them. The technical definition of the word is the concept of feelings of great anxiety or dread.

Fluff: the opposite of angst, it comforts the readers and makes them coo it’s often cute scenarios or sweet little gestures, love stories etc that can be considered fluffy.

Smut: Mature content (+18) which means the fic contains sexual natured acts.

The most popular other genres are: strangers to lovers (S2L), friends to lovers (F2L), enemies to lovers E2L) and AUs like Supernatural AU, Vampire AU, Arranged Marriage AU, (AU – stands for Alternative Universe) basically anything could be an AU so don’t be afraid to play with concepts and create your own tags and AUs.

Summary – The summary is important to catch the attention of the readers, It could vary from long paragraphs to one-line summaries. Whatever floats your boat! A small #tip if you have difficulty coming up with a summary: make it a sneak peek. Choose a few lines from any part of your fic and let that speak for you!

Warnings – If your writing contains triggering or sexual content make sure you let your readers know! It’s very important. The more detailed description the better. It’s common just to state ’smut’ and leave it at that but I think it’s important to let the audience know what they should expect in that scene, what kind of kink is involved, if it’s protected or unprotected sex, even if it’s vanilla. Use. Your. Tags.

Word Count – This is just as important as the rest. It makes a huge difference to know if it’s 1k or 30k+. If you use word documents for your writing at the bottom you could always check the word count so it’s not taking you too much time to figure it out.

Masterlist – It’s optional as well. If you have a masterlist then link it before your fic and after your formatting so the reader can check out other stories that you’ve written. (Masterlist is a list of your fics that’s normally broken down to members of the band that you’re writing for, you can check out mine for an example if you’re confused.)

Credit – Never forget to credit who helped you! If you requested a banner make sure to name and link where it’s from. If you’re not confident in your banner making skills you can always opt for a moodboard, it’s easy to make but gives a little character to your post. (I use this online editor for my moodboards.)

Author Note – It could be anything you would like to add. I personally like to read the authors thoughts before the fic, it’s often funny that puts a smile on my face. You can talk about anything story related or not but make sure to not write too too much because that would result in the readers skip it if you make it too long. It’s an optional point as well.

TIP 2, READ MORE

It’s another pet peeve that I’m sure a lot of us have here. It’s tiring to scroll through 3k+ words so use your read mores if it’s longer than 500-800 words! I use ’read more’ when my word count is over 1k. Believe me, if someone is interested in your story she/he will click that read more. Next, let’s talk about the placement.

It’s a common place for read more to be at the end of your formatting. If you use a browser to post a fic then all you have to do is click on the last option that appears as soon as you click into the white space to start your text post.

#tip If you want to use read more while you make a post on your mobile all you have to do is: type :readmore: in a new paragraph and then click enter it should appear right after!

TIP 3, NETWORKS

Let’s talk about networks now! They are dedicated to writers and other content creators to get more recognised by sharing their content. There are ones with open tags but most networks are sharing the content of their members. To become a member you need to fill out applications but make sure to check if they’re looking for new members or not at the moment!

There are networks dedicated to different groups (or members) so apply for those that you’re writing for. There are multi networks too that reblog content from different bands as well.

After you’re accepted all you have to do is use their tags and wait for them to reblog your fic, #tip use the first three tags for networks because it’s more likely that they see your post and reblog it sooner!

TIP 4, FOLLOWERS

It takes time to gather your followers, all you need to do is share your content and cherish those who like it.

Don’t worry about how many likes or reblogs are on your posts. Unfortunately, there are more silent readers on Tumblr than those who reblog and leave nice comments but there will be always readers who share how much they like your stories. So don’t get discouraged things will come to you eventually.

TIP 5, ASKS

It’s a form when your readers can engage with you. What I want to say in this paragraph is that there will be nice and not so nice comments but hopefully, all nice people will come to you. Don’t feel obligated to reply to everyone, reply to those that you’re comfortable with and share what you’re comfortable with.

Don’t share personal information like your address or your full name. The internet can be scary so always be cautious!

This is what I could come up with from the top of my head so if you have (or anyone else) more questions feel free to send them to me and I’ll try my best to answer them and help, my ask box is always open! I might make more posts like this if you’re interested.

#helenazbmrskai answers #helpful guide for newbie writers #writers help #bts fanfiction #fanfiction #fic #fanfic

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lightgriffinsect · 2 years ago

Note

Here's the answer to the second question!

famous five: describe your writing process.

I usually first get the inkling of the idea when I'm busy doing something mundane or unrelated to fandom. (e.g. I first got the idea for Ill-Gotten Gains when I was in my backyard helping my dad with gardening stuff or smth.) Otherwise I usually get the idea late at night when I'm supposed to be sleeping.

This idea usually comes in the form of a few key lines of description or dialogue which inspire the entire fic, and always, without fail, make it into the final draft. These few lines are essential as they are the core of the story and I need to work using them to weave a semi-coherent outline.

I then either write it down immediately, if I have easy access to a device or a paper and pen, or I let it sit and fester in my head. This usually results in a) the idea gets to develop and become a real story outline I can later solidly work off of,

or more likely, b) it shrivels up and nearly dies in there before I finally, frantically note it down. :(

I usually make a really rough outline comprised of almost-exact dialogue as what appears in the final draft, and vague details that I later refine. It's usually written with a lot of slang and abbreviations because I can get away with that because it's an outline lmao. See the one for Fourth Cousins (Thrice Removed) below for reference. vvv

Once I have the full outline written down I start drafting. Unfortunately, due to excessive use of slang and oversimplified dialogue and descriptions in the outline, I often have to spend extra time developing the actual text in the drafting phase.

This is where the original key lines that kickstarted the whole fic-writing process make their appearance, with minimal changes or none at all. They are included at the relevant point in the draft and then I build the rest of the fic around it, usually starting at the beginning with exposition, etc. But sometimes when working on a fic I say "screw it" and just write whatever portion of the fic I feel like doing on that day. It's then finally assembled like a bunch of smaller manufactured parts coming together to build a functioning, stylish and sleek masterpiece. I was thinking of a refrigerator as I wrote that sentence.

After the drafting process comes refining, proofreading, editing, all that fun headache-inducing stuff. After you've written your entire work and then read it over several times you kind of just start skimming over it. So when I edit my fics, I make sure to set them to a different font, color, and/or size so I can catch any errors more easily, since they look different and my eyes haven't adjusted to seeing the words in the new form. I check for spelling, grammar, punctuation, and other errors, such as issues with tenses and certain words I think could be replaced or better phrased. I do this 4-5 times (? can't remember exactly) and then I consider the fic done and ready to upload onto tumblr and AO3.

Bonus: how I publish

Uploading onto AO3 is a long process since I need to do all the HTML stuff and that's no fun. I flip back and forth between the AO3 tab and the Google doc to compare and add the appropriate tags where needed. When it's finally uploaded I then copy paste the AO3 version of the fic onto a tumblr draft post. I do this because sometimes I make changes to the AO3 version right before uploading that I don't bother to add to the Google doc, so the AO3 one is usually the most complete and polished fic that I can republish to tumblr without consistency issues.

Then on the tumblr version I add the link to the AO3 version at the top, then the title, fandom, summary, and word count, and then add a read-more link. I then do a quick skim-through or two to ensure it's all complete and perfect, before adding all the relevant tags (as well as the commentary tags from the AO3 version), and then hitting 'post'. And then the fate of my fic is left up to the Almighty SWT and people's will to reblog.

Please reblog.

matilda and famous five :)

matilda: what books have influenced your writing style?

For fanfic, I was really more inspired by other people's fics than by books XD

There used to be an AO3 user called ShadowPorpoise who wrote amazingly descriptive and insightful fics about the Undertale AU Sanses, mainly Dream, Nightmare, Ink, and Error, as well as the Swap bros, and they had two incredible series that really inspired me to write characters from a similar angle, being able to analyze their complexities and put them into more subtle words. They were great at describing settings and moods and that also is something I tried to replicate in my own writing, especially in my first few fics. Also, they were the one who influenced me to write all my fics in present tense. Unfortunately, at some point they deleted their account, along with all their fics, so they're not available to read anymore. I wish I had downloaded or preserved their fics when I had the chance, because their work is one of the biggest things that contributed to my writing style today.

Another AO3 user, Bofur1, also wrote some of my favorite Undertale fanfics under the pseud Im_The_Doctor, which also heavily influenced my writing methods. They mainly write about classic!Sans and Papyrus, but also tended to include other UT characters and even wrote about some of the other Sanses/Papyruses. They're particularly good at getting inside the heads of the characters, no matter the AU, and always manages to write such accurate portrayals of them and that is something I really try to emulate in my fics too.

They're also very creative! One of their fics takes place from the perspective of Papyrus's scarf! And their fic titles always perfectly fit the tone and plot of their stories. I've been quite inspired by them to name my fanfics in a similar way. ^^ They also write mostly oneshots, which is probably why most of my fanfiction is also oneshots.

(i'm reading one of their fics right now dfdfjsdk)

There were multiple Henry Stickmin fic authors who heavily inspired my writing style too. One made all their works anonymous, so they likely don't wish to be associated with them anymore. But their work was also some of my favorite back in my THSC days. Their style was very descriptive and well written and it's another style I took a lot of inspo from when I started writing fanfic seriously.

VenomQuill, who wrote for THSC, UT, FNaF, and plenty of other fandoms, was also a great writer. They were super nice to me as well and it was a lot of fun bouncing hcs and theories back and forth with them and others. They didn't influence my writing as much as these other writers, but I still look back on my interactions with them fondly and occasionally I even drop in to read and comment on one of their fics.

From a lot of the THSC writers, I picked up a lot about analyzing and looking into character's minds and who they are, and how to work off of that and develop it further in my own fics. It's something I'm very grateful for from my time in that fandom and I still love it, even if Henry Stickmin stuff isn't present on my blog. (tbf I got tumblr way after my THSC phase so maybe that's why)

Sheesh this has gotten long XD and it's only the first question! I'm gonna reblog this with the second answer.

#or i'll do it myself /lh /srs #this was a journey holy crap #y'know i've never actually laid out my entire writing process like this before it's kinda eye-opening #from now on is actually an exception! i never outlined that one #there might be one or two others that i also didn't outline but i doubt it #i'm a plantser for the most part lmao #i outline my works but like. really badly.#thanks for the ask!#fanfic ask

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popculturebuffet · 4 years ago

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Blog Updates: New Patreon Stretch Goals, Patreon Exclusive Reviews, New Story Arcs and Other Stuff

MHello everyone. For those of you seeing this through other tags my name is Jake. I do reviews on here that are usually full sumaries of an episode of a tv show or comic, with jokes and analsyis throughout. I’m doing this post as i’ve recently revamped by patreon a bit, check out VIA THIS LINK if your curious. I also have some other stuff going on with the blog that I thought might intrest the general public and especially you lovely followers. Thank you guys so much. Your support means a lot and feel free to interact with this post and any of the reviews. it’s always a pleasure. Leave your comments whatever. So let’s start with the patreon stuff

You Decide the Next Patreon Exclusive Review!:

Yes YOU will decide the Patreon Exclusive review for May. How? It’s simple: i’m currently reviewing the Lilo and Stitch crossover episodes, the first two this week with the American Dragon Jake Long crossover “Morpholomew” done yesterday, the Proud Family episode “Spats” coming later this week, and “Rufus” (Kim Possible) and “Lax” (Recess) coming next week and the week after that respectively.

As a way to gage intrest in the shows crossed over, and if I should review some of them on their own, i’m going to be watching the notes, and after the first week i’ll record how many a review got. This way the first review dosen’t get an advantage over the last and so on. Whichever episode gets the most votes wins and it’s show will get two reviews: One exclusive to Patreon in may you can check out for just a buck, and one for all of ya in June. So if you want to dragon up, get louder and prouder, check out what the sitch is, or have some recess, keep an eye on my blog and check out the review. Like it reblog, it, both. This is all in your hands. And if this little contest works out I may do another one like it in the future.

New Patreon Stretch Goals!:

For those unfamiliar with Patreon it’s a site that helps creators like me get paid for their work, used by such luminaries as Linkara, Pushing Up Roses and greatest of all Rifftrax.

Stretch Goals are an amount of money I get a month from patreons, that’s readers like you paying me. Even a buck a month would help a lot and help me put out a reviews and LIVE off doing this. But it’s a two way street so in order to entice you lovely people into paying me for doing my job and my passion with these reviews, i’ve updated the tiers, adding a wider and better range of rewards. I’m currenntly up to 15 dollars a month, or close enough that i’ve acitivated those rewards. And if you help me hit these tiers EVEYRONE gets PUBLIC, on here, for free reviews. Thanks to my lovely patreons Emma and Kevin you all are getting reviews of the first 5 Ducktales episode, aka Legend of the Golden Suns, with the second coming as soon as I finish this post. Even a buck helps us reach closer and for your dollar you get access to the discord, exclusive reviews, and to pick a short any time I review a bunch of shorts. And with Goofy’s birthday coming up next montha nd Donald’s after that, now is the best time for that. 5 dollar patreons also get one review as month, with 10 dollar ones getting two. You’ve already probably seen some of these: Kev has used one of his a month to have me review a house of mouse episode every month, and newest patreon and longtime friend Emma is using them to have me review the netflix dr. seuss adaptation “Green Eggs and Ham”. So whatever YOU want me to review I will and you’l lhelp unlock even MORE great reviews. So what do you get if you hit the goals? I’m glad you asked.

We’re up to 15 so next is...

20 Dollar Tier: Ducktales 87 Season 2 Mini Series!: Yes indeedy. Already on the Docket was the Super Ducktales Arc, which introducices the OG GIZMODUCCCKKKKK. But since that apparenlty wasn’t enough i’ve also added the OTHER mini series. While i’ll do super first since that’s the one with higher fan intrest once tha’ts done i’ll also review Time is Money, the time travel arc bringing in everyone’s faviroite scrappy Bubba. So if you want a buncha cruncha retro Ducktales pony up. But that’s not all the disney afternoon I got for this tier.

A Darkwing Duck Episode A MOnth: This one has also been promoted every time I could and still stands. If you like that mind behind the shadow disguise, that daring duck of mystery, that champion of right, then you’ll get one review a month about him, as voted on by you patreons.

Danny Phantom: The Ultimate Enemy: And since neither of these have helped me so far and stepping back into Amity Park made me realize how much I love the series, even if it’s creator is a 80 tons of smug asshole packed into a t-shirt he thinks is cooler than it is. So it only felt right to add the ghost boy to the tier and the best way to kick that off is with it’s second best, and only barely second behind Reign Storm, episode: The Ultimate Enemy! Danny finds his future is imperfect and must battle his own evil self! If you want my thoughts on one of the series finest hours, then help me hit 20 bucks a month to keep making content.

25 Dollar Tier:

I removed the Tail Spin content, though rest assured I will be covering Plunder and Lightning sometime this year. But what I replaced it with is even better.

One Danny Phantom Review a Month: YOu like teen superheros? you like ghosts? you like me slagigng off about butch hartman and trying to make it crystal clear his creation dosen’t wholly belong to him? Then you’ll like me reviewing Danny Phantom. And while i’m already doing that, this goal gaurantees one episode a month, and said episode will be voted on by my patreons. So if you pay for this you’ll not only get your monthly dose of going ghost.. but you’ll get a chance to PICK what it is.

Disney Shows To Movies Trilogy : I’ve decided to make it a tradition for my 15 dollar stretch goals to do a bunch of disney movies. And like with my last batch, which you’ll be seeing in may, i’m doing tv shows that got their own movies, theatrical or otherwise. And this time we’re doing MY generatoin: Kim Possible: So The Drama, the best story in the show’s histroy and the best movie in the Disney Channels! Recess: Schools Out! The suprisingly bonkers unsurprisingly awesome finale to an awesome show! and The Proud Family Movie, another UTTERLY BATSHIT finish to a great show. Lost at Sea and Seconds: This one’s for my scottaholics, fourth part of my Scott Pilgrim retrospective coming this week!. If you like me taking a look at Scott’s quest to punch the fuck out of his girlfriends exes while growing up a little, then if you help me get to the 30 dollar tier, i’ll also take a look at O’Malley’s other graphic novels Lost at Sea, which follows a girl who lost her soul and her boyfriend on a trip with what may be Young Neil’s older sister, and Seconds, the story of a woman with issues growing up who finds the ablitlity to travel through time.. or is it space? And some of you savvier readers my know he has nother comic. Where’s that one? wellllll

30 Dollar Tier:

Snotgirl: I’m saving this one for this tier. Reviews of each collected volume of snotgirl, Bryan’s first ongoing series, all three so far and any more to come about, unsuprisingly, a hot mess of a person, this time who might’ve done a murder. You know instead of defintely did a murder but in self defnese and with a longsword.

Gravity Falls Season 1!: One of Disney’s finest finally on this blog. All season 1 episodes reviewed in some way in some shape in some form. Star Vs Finale Arc!: You’ve heard me bitch about the problems in Tom’s story, and wil lcontinue to. Now see the terrible way everyone elses ends! From an amazing build up to an awful finish, see reviews of Every story relevant season 4 episode from Butterfly Follies to Cleaved that won’t already be covered in my tom retrospective. It’s a road to crushing disapointment, come on inside!

35 Dollar Tier: More Disney TV Adaptations!: Doug’s First Movie! See Doug get really fucking weird in his sea monster based movie with a punch line of a name! Teachers Pet, a great movie out of a show I barely saw! Kim Possible Live action! it’s suprisingly okay! and Recess Taking the Fifth: a compliation movie for a season we sadly never got.

Gravity Falls Season 2: Buillding on the first reward Gravity Falls Reviews will go beyond the first season and finish the job. From zombies, to dipcifica, to ford to weirdmageddon, I’m doin it all.

40 Dollar Tier:

Two HUGE Disney Focused Comics Retrospectives!

Darkwing Duck: In addition to the show, i’ll start reviewing the awesome follow up comic that got me into it. From the start to both finishes: the unathorized crossover finale and the sadly short lived sequel series from joe books, the worst mistake disney ever made that wasn’t racist, before Artemis Fowl said hold my beer. Also the short lived Ducktlaes series because why not.

The Incredibles!: The Family Dynamic! A comprehensive retrospective featuring reviews of the movie, the Mark Waid followup, the sequel that ignores said followup and the incomparable Christos Gage’s followup to THAT movie. Also that wonderfuly awful failed tv pilot bob made that he and lucius did a mst3k of.

45 Dollar Tier:

Disney Flims Lilo and Stitch a Thon: All four lilo and stitch movies, Lilo and Stitch, Lilo and Sitch 2, Stitch and Leroy and Stitch! All the hawaii, aliens and sequels you can handle!

Amphibia Season 1: I’ve done Season 2 as it comes out, i’ll be doing the same for season 3, so help me get here to see the start at least once a month, but two at a time!

50 Dollar Tier: The last one for now. I’ll probably go to 10 dollar tiers after this.

The Owl House Season 1: While I wait for the second season to start so I can cover it, have me do the rest of season 1! The only exceptions are the already covered Enchanted Grom Fright and the earmarked for pride month wing it like witches!

The Two Loves and 87 Mistakes of Mordecai: A regular show romancetrospective, as we go through the downs, ups, higher ups and crushing lows of Modercai’s romantic arcs from regular show. His crush on margert, making his move, moving on, moving on to cj, and then the horrible cluster fuck I’ve talked about nonstop and will again and again as one of the worst romantic arcs in memory as they shot the relationship in the foot head and groin! Force me to relive it all!

So yeah I’ll add more tiers, again probably 10 dollars apart if I get to 50, but given I barely got to 15 i’m not optimistic. PROVE ME WRONG. HELP ME HIT 50.

Other Stuff:

Finally outisde of Patreon, that was the main reason for this, I have news on my various arcs. For one thing i’ll be trying to keep the pace better, so expect at least one entry a month for ones i’m doing on my own time like the tom retrospective, life and times and Scott pilgrims. Ones kev does will be done weekly to keep my wallet afloat.

I also have two more retrospectives incoming! The first is paid for by Kev: I’l lbe tackling ALL THREE SEASON 2 ARCS OF DUCKTALES 2017. After the headache of trying to cram the della arc into three weeks to keep up with the lena one, I decided i’td be better for pacing if I did all three at once and kev agreed to it, if using his patreon reviews to cushion the blows. So starting next month i’ll be covering the Louie, Della and Glomgold/Owlson arcs, swapping between them in episode order. With that I should be FAR closer to having covered every ducktales episode. Granted i’ll still have 17 to cover, but it’ll make that much more managable.

The second comes in June specifically timed for Pride Month. With Scott Pilgrim Wrapping up in August just in time for the movie’s anniversary, I decided to start covering another one of my faviorite comics of all time. It’s time to transform, roll out and make this precoius it’s Transformers More than Meets the Eye! For those of you unfamiliar it’s an idw comic that follows a rag tag group of transformers, about half of them gay or gay coded, on a mission to find the lost knights of cybertron and bring ballance to a post war cybertron.. which quickly devloves into hyjinnks with a side order of heartrending deaths and charcter development... and references to dexy’s midnight runners.

So that’s all for now. thank you for reading, please support my patreon as the next pay term is at the start of next month, so if you want me to start on any of those stretch goals, nows the time. Please help me earn a living and until all are one, i’ll see you at the next rainbow.

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thegirlwholied · 3 years ago

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fic writer interview game

(though I go such long spans between updates 'fic writer' is a generous description... look, I may not have glorious purpose but I have glorious excuses)

& thanks @aurorawest for the tag 💕

name: Cara

(...not sure how many of you out there know this actually- except those of you who know me IRL! - as while I love my name I rarely reference it here & do enjoy that a certain corner of the internet knows me as lyin)

fandoms: I am a dabbler, a renaissance fan, a reader-of-all-trades (master of none!)- I'm all over the place; if I like something I check the Tumblr tag; if I reblog it I have probably at least stalked the AO3 page to see what folks are up to (I am in my own little fandom corner- but kitty-corner to many avenues!).

two-shots: the closest I've come to a two-shot I wound up putting up as a one-shot instead (or we could count my one fic that only has 2 chapters, but in my head it has more)

most popular multi-chapter fic: I had to check but my guess was right, it is Glass of Water, & you know, imho the one thing ol' fan fic dot net still has going for it over AO3 is its cool statistics - I don't know who you are, 50-100 people from all over the world reading till the last chapter every month on FF Dot Net even now, but much love!

actual worst part of writing: making myself sit down & get going. When I really get going - I forget to stop, I forget to eat, I don't hear people talking or music (when I toured the Louisa May Alcott house they described her writing like this and I related so much), I go for hours upon hours without meaning to and then I stop and - tend to stay stopped too long. I'm not good at the 'write everyday' process; I'm best at it when traveling, when I'd settle in at a coffee shop or location (or on a plane!), write some, & have to move on, but, uh, global pandemic put a cramp in that. I know it has to be on the page to count but I really, really do a lot of my writing in my head first. Most of my fics, if you've read one, are first drafts, straight up. They just got rewritten in my head & half-started notes & beginning scenes until I finally sat down and the whole thing came out at once feeling right. Or half comes out in one burst and the rest in another burst however much later. Typically I'd adjust a few typos & post. This is by no means writing advice! It'd be bad writing advice! But just how I operate. I've tried other ways but I've learned over years that my work's better when I accomodate/work around my natural creative process rather than trying to change it. (Also deadlines. I'm so good at delivering on hard deadlines; I am weak with soft deadlines.)

how you choose your titles: as this is a fic specific 'interview', how I title fics is very different than my og fiction. Most commonly: song lyric (...actually I did title my og fiction grad school thesis after a song lyric too; i may not hear/play much music while I write but I sure think about writing while listening to it), canon reference that is typically One Dramatic Word, poem/quote references with a heavy lean on Yeats.

do you outine?: not for fan fics, but I have a general shape in my head of 'this chapter where this happens' - if I have an unfinished fic with expected number of chapters, those are pretty accurately predictions; I have at least a big picture of what happens in each chapter. & probably some of the conversations, sometimes even already jotted-down dialogue. A written outline? Not so much (my original novel did have a list of chapters with notes to keep it straight but they looked like "Chapter Thirty-Seven: epilogueeeeeeee denoumenttttttttt job" - direct quote down to the # of t's, there)

Ideas you probably won't get around to, but wouldn't it be nice?: I still convince myself I will finish All the Things! but uh some have gone wayside yeah. One I really thought would be cool & know is blowing in the wind was this Buffy fic (yes, A Fic Not Appearing On My Actual Fic Profiles) which was a *whole* Big Concept thing even though I thought I could do it in 5 chapters. ...And then I didn't.

spicy tangential opinion: not that spicy but the fanon/canon gulf is often wide & deep for certain characters in particular &🎶I'm frightened by those who don't see it🎶. really, a character’s fanon version at times may be more fun (though more often it softens character's edges amd I like edges) but... with *certain characters in particular* it feels like that distinction’s been weirdly lost. Also, random, but probably because,my formative years were fan fic dot net, not livejournal, I always feel odd when my AO3 replies to comments (instead of reviews) are a) public and b) add to the comment count. AND I tend to wind up in a loop of 'wouldn't this person rather I spent this time working on an update' where I just... never reply which seems counter to the expected AO3-cultural norm these days, so I feel guilty? Despite the guilt I just reply to so many emails for a living (3 inboxes just for work, plus then my personal email & texts!)... so for the record my default approach is 'I appreciate all comments SO SO MUCH & do read them all but please message me on Tumblr instead if you want a response".

These opinions are 'pumpkin spice' levels of spice, not exactly cayenne here, but hey I think I achieved tangential

callouts @ me: I always think I will get there faster than I do - this is true when I am driving places too! My friends expect me to be late even though I don't expect me to be late!- so I have been known to, let's say, overpromise on update speed. (I meant to do my work today, goes a favorite poem that always applies @ me) (Time between 2011 and 2021 feels especially timey-wimey and oh no 🎶well, I guess this is growing up 🎶).

(also @ me: overly fond of parenthesis.)

& definitely some people-pleasing tendencies that spill over into, not so much my writing itself, but how I feel about it.

best writing traits: detail, dialogue, ...deaths? Lol but really. My favorite thing as a reader is when writing make you laugh & cry so those are my favorite compliments as a writer. Humor/angst: always my fic genre. Even my closest-to-fix-it fics are labeled 'somebody lives' not 'everybody lives'. ...and I need to update them (dammit)

tagging: ...this is way too long to tag, aka inflict directly upon, anyone else, except @aurorawest who asked for it 😂

#about me #tag games

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txdoroki · 4 years ago

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heyo ˙˚ʚ(´◡`)ɞ˚˙ omg i love ur account, ur literally my favourite person on this app sfngnbodmv ur posts make me so happy. basically i want to start writing drabbles and fics and stuff so i was just wondering where 2 start & how u got started :)

hi! aww tysm :,) that means a lot!

well, i started by making a post asking people for requests (as i started as a request writing page, not really that way anymore because it’s easier to not get burnt out for me if i do the stuff i genuinely want to write!) and i used all of the tags i could.

(if youre planning on doing mha writing, bakugou and todoroki content generally does the best. the first 3 tags you use, your content will show up under tagged when you search the tag in specific, so i suggest doing bakugou x reader, todoroki x reader, and whatever else as your first three for your starting request post!)

if you aren’t planning on doing requests, i suggest maybe an intro post. like “hi! i’m (name) and im a writer! here are the fandoms i’ll be writing for, and a few things about me!”

try and have your first writings be consistent, it doesn’t matter that much but it’s good to have content for ppl to read rather than literally one post and it’s an intro. if people see the intro, they will prolly click on your account to see your writing and such. so, imo it’s important to have some writing to begin with

i’ve noticed, that using more tags doesn’t necessarily = more notes! the first few matter the most, and after that, it can help to do the category and such

let’s say i wrote a bakugou fluff. i’d use these tags: bakugou x reader, bakugou imagine, bakugou fluff, bakugou katsuki, mha bakugou- give or take a few! you can find examples under my MOST RECENT writing posts, as i did different experiments with it and the more useful your tags are the better. my “if you came into their room in the middle of the night” post was the experiment, and it turned out that i was right, more tags ≠ more interaction

on that note, INTERACT WITH PEOPLE. this isn’t against anyone who doesnt like interacting, but it can help build relationships with followers! if you’re comfortable with this, you can open your asks box so people can say stuff (you don’t have to have anons on but it can be nice for ppl who are shy/dont want their acc out yk)! if you get anon hate, just block the anon if you want. or dont respond.

also, it’s rlly cool to get a few mutuals! i’d love to be your mutual if you want to, just lmk your account whenever you start posting! sometimes i make mutual posts asking for mutuals, you can do something like that if you would like

my first ever oneshot thing i wrote, was one i rlly remember writing! that might not be the same for my viewers, but i usually remember someone by the first thing i’ve seen by them. first impressions matter, so try and figure out how you wanna be seen! ofc don’t fake being someone you’re not, but it might be confusing to ppl if your first impression doesn’t match with how you act the rest of the time!

your first post usually sets the tone for your blog, or at least the first one that gets you your audience. if you, in your first post that gains you followers, say that you’ll be writing for danganronpa, and then instead write for mha, everyone would kinda be like. what? i thought you were a danganronpa writer??? ya know

BE SURE TO INCLUDE GENERAL TRIGGER WARNINGS ON POSTS THAT NEED THEM. ADD THE TOPIC ITS WARNING ABOUT TOO. EVERYONE WILL APPRECIATE IT BECAUSE IT IS JUST A NICE THING TO DO PLEASE DO THAT!!

i suggest making a navigation page (like my pinned post) and a masterlist (you can do all your writing in one or even seperate masterlists for each character, whatever you’d like)! it can really help to have a spot to go and be able to find all of the writing you’ve done without endless scrolling! if you need a tut on how to add links to posts, im sure theres a tut on youtube!

A REALLY HELPFUL THING TO DO IS WHENEVER YOURE MOTIVATED WRITE LIKE FIVE THINGS SO WHEN YOU DONT FEEL LIKE WRITING, YOU HAVE POSTS! fr tho, ppl usually wont mind if you arent super active. if they do, theyre being dumb!

posting consistently CAN help your posts reach more ppl, but if you can only post every now and then, it isnt really a problem! don’t stress it if you’re too busy/dont have a schedule, it wont kill your account

tl:dr;

-add trigger warnings on things when needed

-make a navi page (not needed)

-if you’re motivated, write stuff to post later

-first impressions matter

-mutuals!

-less tags can work more, but i’ve also seen a lot of tags work good as well

-INTERACT WITH PEOPLE

-don’t say you’ll do things just for followers. they aren’t just a number, they’re actual people

how i started in five steps:

1. i made a post that was like “hey! im mack and i want to start doing writing requests! do you guys have any?”

2. i did a few posts then was like ah fuck i need a masterlist, so i made that and then made an about me with random facts i thought of and such. (also make sure tou put your pronouns in your bio so ppl arent confused!)

3. i did more posts and started gaining, but didn’t really mind it. i kind of just vibed, cause the numbers dont determine how good of a writer you are, so i focused on working on my writing style and such! i kinda ghosted the whole blog for a week straifht beside from queued reblogs, but came back later when i had inspo! it’s good not to run your brain dry

4. i redid my whole blog, made it pretty! its rlly motivating to me to have a nice blog, but it isnt required! i made an organized navigation page, and started focusing on getting my reach back. (btw, prime posting time is at like midnight!) be sure to put rules and boundaries on your page as well, so people do not end up crossing one that you didn’t state.

5. i reminded myself that i can do things other than my blog when i’d get a little too obsessive over it, and that it wasn’t going anywhere! don’t feel pressured to post a LOT. only post when you want to and can. don’t put responsibilities like health aside just for your blog.

hope this was helpful <3

#writing tips #swaggy.m #blog tips

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jamielea81 · 5 years ago

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Conversations

Chapter 2

Description: You accompany your friends on a day trip to Animal Kingdom Theme Park where you meet Scott Evans by chance. This one afternoon leads to a year long friendship with both Chris and Scott over text messages and phone calls.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Warning: Cursing

A/N: Here is chapter two! Cast members are what Disney calls its employees. Italics are internal thoughts. Tag list is open, please send an ask if you would like to be added. Likes, comments, and reblogs are wonderful.

Chapter 1

When he added you on Twitter, that was strange enough. You could reason it out that he saw your name spread through the tagged post and he did it on a whim. Or maybe he followed a lot of people. But that one was easily debunked after a quick glance at his profile showed he only followed about three hundred people. Maybe he was just friendly in that way. A quick add here and you’d be unfollowed by Thanksgiving. There was no chance he actually liked you as a person. Right?

You hit reply before you could overthink it more than you already had.

Y/N: I’m not always grumpy, I’ll have you know.

Y/N: Are you guys still on vacation or back home?

When he didn’t immediately reply, you decided to put your phone away and actually go to sleep. You’d be bringing Jana coffee in the morning which meant you actually had to get up before noon.

Your alarm sounded at eight which it hadn’t done in at least a year. Since you worked mainly on assignment, you rarely went into the office until well past noon. Some days you didn’t even go in. You were a night owl, so unless there was a morning meeting you slept in. Living alone also brought less interruptions to your schedule. You’d been in your sleepy vacation style home for the last two years. Your father regularly lectured you on the importance of homeowner ship. Paying rent wasn’t doing anything to build equity. Blah. Blah. Blah. He was only looking out for your future, but between lectures about settling down and having a family, the house stuff pushed you over the top. You still weren’t sure where you wanted to end up, so buying wasn’t on the top of your priority list.

Florida really was a mixed bag. Between the retires that lived in Florida during the winter months, the tourists, the general crazies that you heard about on the national and local news each night, and those like yourself that were just trying to live your life, you never officially settled in. The ocean called to you, but the pricey lifestyle and fear of evacuating each year due to a hurricane did not. Being fifteen minutes from both the Disney and Universal parks would also be nice, but the traffic and long lines at Target were not appealing. You were currently living in a cute two-bedroom home fifteen minutes outside the parks bubble where life was a little more affordable and groceries weren’t inflated. It was still technically a vacation rental, but the owner liked the idea of having a long-term leaser. The fact that it had its own pool that you didn’t have to maintain was just an added bonus. Driving into Orlando wasn’t great, but at least you missed the bulk of rush hour by sleeping in.

You texted Jana to let her know you just pulled in to the parking lot. Balancing your laptop bag, oversized purse, and two coffees through a busy office rotunda wasn’t easy. Thank goodness for stylish flats. If you had to navigate in heels every day, you’d probably never get out of bed. God bless Jana. How she handled it, you had no idea.

The security desk knew you by name, but due to protocol, Jana actually had to sign you in. After exchanging a few good mornings, you set both cups on the desk and waited. Most of the time she was already in the lobby when you walked through the double doors. No doubt this was a form of punishment for not telling her about meeting the two boys from Boston. Not that you looked that up or anything. You totally didn’t Google anything that night when you got home. And she calls you the brat. Ten minutes later her smiling face walks out of the elevator and up to the security desk. She signs you in while you stare her down.

“Let’s go pokey,” she says before turning away from you, leaving you to carry your bags and both of your coffees.

You huff but manage anyway, making it to the waiting elevator she holds open with her hand.

“Did you know Phil’s wife just had another baby?” She shakes her head no. “Yeah, it’s their third. These are things I wouldn’t know if you didn’t take your sweet time signing me in. Coffee’s cold by the way,” you add for good measure.

“I already had some, that’s fine,” she said, one eyebrow pointed daring you to complain.

When the elevator stops on the twelfth floor, Jana gracefully exits on three inch heels, swaying her hips in the tight and posh pencil skirt with matching blazer. You get it. It’s a well-established law firm full of sharks all trying to get ahead. She exudes confidence. There are whispers of her making partner in the next year. At least that’s what Brooks has told you. Jana’s mum on the subject, not wanting to jinx or tempt fate or whatever.

You drop her coffee in the trash bin just outside the elevator doors and hurry after.

“Y/N! Nice to see you gracing us with your presence.”

Jana turns around to see Ethan’s predatory stare. You don’t mind it. Ethan’s a sheep in wolf’s clothing and has been coming on to you for the better part of a year. He’s good looking with his sandy brown hair coiffed in the front and bright green eyes. He’s up for partner as well. You know this because he tells you this at least once a week. He’s harmless and always has a kind word for you.

“Well, good morning to you too. Any word on getting partner yet?” you practically whisper. You have to give him something.

“Soon. It’ll happen.” He looks behind you and then meets your eyes again. “Here by yourself? Come to see me?” he asked.

You gesture behind him. “Nope. Just here to see my bestie.” You move past him, but turn your head to him as you do. “Have a good day, Ethan,” you reply.

Jana enters her office and closes the door after you enter. You take a seat in front of her desk as she walks around to sit behind it.

“Are you ever going to throw him a bone? Not that I want to see you with him, but it’s hard to watch sometimes,” she says picking up her phone, fingers moving quickly before setting it back down.

“Am I here to talk about Ethan? I thought I was here to beg for your forgiveness and tell you what happened,” you asked.

“Grovel first. Ethan next week,” Jana says with a smile. She taps her desk in a ‘speak now’ fashion.

Taking a quick sip of your coffee before setting it on her desk, you take a deep breath and lick your lips.

“Okay, so I found a table at Nomad, which was packed by the way. The sever was apparently pulling double duty as Mickey as she just never showed up. You know me, I was impatient and probably drew attention to myself with excessive eyerolls or whatever.”

Jana mouths “no way.”

“Anyway. Scott Evans was sitting at a couch across the aisle from my table. I didn’t know it was him until later. Apparently, I caught his attention, so he bought us both a drink and sat at my table. We chatted for a while, did a shot, no big deal.” You smirk and shrug a shoulder. Jana’s mouth is hanging open. “He somehow drags me to Everest and because they had a cast member with them, we got ushered right to the front of the line where I end up sitting next to Chris. That’s when I knew who I was with. Had no idea before that because I hadn’t talked to Chris at the bar. I thought that was the end of it until you mentioned the photo of me last night. I still hate that ride by the way.”

You down the rest of your coffee because it’s cold, but damnit if you don’t need the caffeine.

“Well, fuck. Who would ever see that coming? It’s a fun story you can tell at parties or I don’t know, to your best friend,” she said.

“Oh, I planned to tell Brooks at work,” you said with a grin.

“Wow. I’m really hurt,” Jana said while clutching her chest.

“You love me.”

“Hmph. Maybe,” Jana added.

You don’t check your Twitter account again until you get home from work. You don’t even want to utter the word Twitter or have it on your screen in case someone sees it and starts asking how you were able to sit next to a celebrity on a ride. You didn’t think anyone would have seen it anyway. No one outwardly admitted to being a die-hard Chris Evans fan at the Sentinel. At least not in the circles you ran in.

Grabbing yourself a beer from the fridge, you made your way onto your lanai. The weather had just started to become reasonable at night with temps dropping into the mid seventies after dark. Still warm, but comfortable.

Opening your Twitter app, you did indeed have a message from Scott.

Scott: I’m pretty sure you’re always sassy.

Scott: Nope, in Boston for the next week. Left the other night.

Y/N: I Hope you all had a good trip.

I mean really, what do you say to someone you just met?

You took the time to go through your follow requests, deleting every one of them as you had no idea who they were. Most likely they were only adding your because they saw that you were tagged in the picture. On the positive, Jana was smart enough to tag your personal account rather than your work account. Your personal account was one you made up in college and did not include your actual name. As hard as it is to keep your anonymity in this day and age, some things you could still keep private.

Your mail notification lit up on the app again so you clicked into.

Scott: Oh my god she’s alive. That was like a full day for you to respond to me.

Oh boy.

Y/N: Sorry. I’m trying to lay low after my Twitter kind of blew up.

Scott: Yeah, sorry about that. Didn’t see that coming.

Y/N: Not like you released the picture. If anyone is to blame, it’s the tequila.

Scott: It’s always the tequila.

Your new formed friendship continued like that. The two of you messaging each other at odd times of the day and taking several hours to respond to one another. Scott was back in LA, putting a three hour time difference between the two of you. It wasn’t uncommon for you to wake up to see you had a message that came in at three in the morning.

It was just before midnight when you noticed you had a message from Scott.

Scott: It’s been a shit day.

It was only sent about twenty minutes earlier, which was pretty much a record for the two of you in seeing the other’s messages.

Y/N: Do you want to call me?

Crap! Why did I type that? He probably doesn’t want me to have his number. Twitter is one thing. A telephone number is too personal.

You wanted to close the app and get ready for bed, but you were worried that you’d miss a message from Scott in case he did want to talk. Not necessarily on the phone, but in direct messages. You did the only thing that made since, you walked around your house with the phone in your hand and direct messages open. This was your life now. Apparently. If it ever got out that you spent thirty minutes with your phone in your hand while brushing your teeth, combing your hair, removing your makeup, changing into pajama shorts and a tee, and prepping the coffee maker for the morning, you’d blame it on lack of sleep and the neighbor’s dog. When you were about to call it quits and crawl into bed, a message came through.

Scott: What’s your number?

So, we’re doing this.

You replied back with your number and waited. Deciding to crawl into bed in case he didn’t actually call you tonight seemed like a wise choice. The air conditioning was blasting as it always was because you needed to sleep cold, so you pulled your warm flower comforter up to your elbows and waited for a call from your acquaintance that was maybe becoming a friend.

To your surprise your phone did ring with an out of state area code. Answering it on the second ring you heard him sigh when you answered with “Hello, this is Grumpy.”

“Really? I’m the grumpy one tonight, we both can’t be,” he whined out.

“Fine. Fine. Hello, this is Sassy,” you said.

“Better,” he muttered.

“You know, I’m just going to enter you as Grumpy in my phone contacts now,” you said.

“I expect nothing less. You’ll just have to wait to see what I’m adding you as.”

“Why? Are you making a return trip to Florida so soon?” you asked.

“Nah. Maybe Miami, but I’m good on Orlando for a while. Just don’t tell my brother that.”

“And here I was going to invite you to my wedding. One less mouth to feed,” you said, him chuckling at your response. “Was even going to let you get the steak.”

“Wait. Are you really getting married?” He sounded surprised which you weren’t sure how to take.

“Do I not seem the marrying type? I know this friendship is new, but dude.”

“No. No. No. Don’t start that. I just meant that you didn’t mention anyone while we chatted. Just that you were there with friends,” he explained.

“Single as a bird. Wait, that’s not right. Free as a bird?” you laughed out.

“Got it,” he chuckled. “When you do get married, I will be attending.”

“Perfect. You’re back on the short list for steak as your entrée. Now, tell my why you’re having a shit day,” you asked.

Two weeks had passed with you and Scott exchanging short text conversations each day. You took to calling him before you went to bed once or twice a week if you had a funny story to tell him. Eleven at night your time seemed to be the right time to catch each other. Besides, it was nice to head to dreamland with a smile on your face because Scott always had a joke.

Jana picked up on your happier mood after a week.

“What’s going on with you? And don’t say it’s nothing,” she demanded.

Picking up your pint of beer, you took a mouthful of the amber liquid before addressing her.

“So, don’t get mad.” She shook her head, resting one palm on her forehead. “Scott and I have been chatting. He’s become a real friend.”

You knew she wouldn’t be upset about you having a new friend, but you were worried she would be because you hadn’t told her right away. First you didn’t mention meeting the Evans brothers, now you were corresponding with one on the regular.

“Just like that? You meet the guy one time and now you’re friends?” she questioned.

“He DM’d me on Twitter when that ride photo came out and we just started chatting. It’s like how you and I text every day. It’s similar except I don’t see him because he doesn’t live here. It’s just nice to have a new friend,” you said shrugging your shoulders.

She laid her slender arms on the table, resting her chin on her down facing palms. “Does this mean you are replacing me?” she says with her bottom lip jutting out.

“Of course not. Did you not catch that he doesn’t live here?” Some days you couldn’t help but be a huge smartass at the expense of your friends.

Her head slumped forward even more as she let of a groan.

“Babe. You know you’re my one and only. I lub you,” you said with your lips puckering out.

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“Cah’mon, that’s it. Can you put the damn phone down for two minutes?” Chris asked.

Scott shushed him, placing his fingers in front of his lips, but eyes still locked on the phone screen in his other hand. “Give me a second,” he said.

Chris sighed and sat further back against the couch cushion in his living room. His wide stretched legs kicked out further in front of him, hitting the coffee table before pulling his feet back a bit. “Fuck. Ouch,” he muttered to himself.

Scott chuckled to himself as he typed out something before setting the phone on the cushion beside him. “Now, what do you need big brother?”

“I don’t need anything. You just seem to be more involved with your phone than the person your visiting,” he spits out, hand wildly gesturing in front of his chest.

Scott puffs out a laugh and shakes his head. He straightens up a bit and turns his phone face down. “Sorry. Truly. How’ve you been?” he asks.

“How’ve I been? Pfft. Really?” Chris asks.

Scott shakes his head in all seriousness.

“I’m fine. Just bored out of my fahckin’ mind, but fine.” Chris says, running a hand through his hair before brushing it back down. “Look, I know I said I wanted a break before starting up another project, but I just thought I’d have more goin’ on. Seems like everyone’s so busy all of a sudden. I can only get drinks with Frankie so many times before I want to check into rehab,” he said.

Scott laughed at his brother’s tantrum. “I get it. Wish I was around more. Maybe go back to Mass. Or go to Disney! M’sure I could get Y/N to meet you at Magic Kingdom,” he said.

Chris tilted his head to the side and raised an eyebrow. “Who?” he asked.

“Y/N,” Scott said matter-of-factly. When the confusion didn’t wipe off Chris’ face, he closed his eyes and shook his head. “Y/N! The woman that you sat next to on Everest. The one in the ride photo.”

Realization struck Chris. “Excuse me. I didn’t remember her name,” he said.

“Ouch. I’ll have to remember not to tell her that,” he said picking up his phone to see a new message from you.

“What do you mean?” Chris asked.

Scott set his phone back down, turning his body to face Chris head on. “Huh?”

“You said you wouldn’t tell her that I didn’t remember her name,” Chris said.

Scott shrugged one shoulder, lifting up one hand in the process before plopping it back on his knee. “Yeah?”

“Wait a minute. Are you still talkin’ to her? How?” Chris asked, eyebrows furrowed.

“That picture. She got tagged in it and I happened to see it. Messaged her on there and now we talk. She’s frickin’ hilarious.”

Scott grabbed his phone again, scrolling a bit before flashing the screen to Chris. It was a picture of you with a woman next to you who had one of the overly large lollipops in her hand. Your mouth is wide open and your pretending to bite the large candy right out of her hand while she laughs in the picture.

A small smile curls up on Chris’ face but he shakes it away immediately. “Dude, you don’t know her. Ever think she’s just nice to you because of who you are?”

Scott rolls his eyes. “First off punk, she’s not like that. She’s pretty private. She didn’t know who any of us were until after you said your name on the ride. Secondly, she didn’t even ask for a photo nor did she try to keep hanging out with us after riding Everest.” Chris rolled his eyes this time. “Thirdly, I contacted her, not the other way around. And lastly, she’s a friend now, so just deal with it.”

Scott was right. You hadn’t behaved like most others would have.

“Fine. Whatever,” Chris said. “You can be friends with whoever you like.”

“Thanks, dad,” Scott said lamely. “Anyway, like I said, she’s great. Her Twitter blew up after that picture. She did a good job of locking her account down and ignoring comments. It’s hard to be pictured with the likes of you.” Chris chuckled and shook his head. “Smart that her handle isn’t actually her name. Crappy that her friend tagged her, but at least she didn’t tag her work one. Like I said, she’s a pretty private person, so she didn’t like the attention.”

Chris nodded his head. “Yeah. Glad it wasn’t worse for her. Think I should apologize?”

It was Scott’s turn to be shocked. His head whipping back and forth a couple of times eyeing his brother. “Okaaay. Not your fault, but maybe don’t add her on Twitter. That’ll just draw more attention. If you’re serious, I’ll give you her number,” Scott said.

“You know what? Never mind. Just tell her sorry for me.” Chris slapped his hands down on his jean clad legs before getting up and walking into the kitchen.

“Too late,” Scott called out. “I just texted you her number. Do what you want.”

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The Jonas Brothers’ concert was tomorrow night, so you were doing your best to get stuff done at the paper before heading home. You planned to sleep in extra late and get some errands done before heading to the venue. Your press pass got you into some reserved places at concerts, but it didn’t get you an interview. While you had been writing and covering entertainment for years, you were mostly known for theme park and tourism coverage in Florida. So, yes you could always land an interview with a Disney Parks or Universal Studios park executive, but other doors in entertainment weren’t flying open.

Grabbing your purse and zip file, you shut down your computer and pushed in your chair. Your phone dinged with a text message. It was probably Jana asking you to get her a t-shirt at the concert tomorrow. Fancy attorney or not, your friend loved a concert tee.

Once you arrived home, you put a frozen meal in the microwave and changed into a pair of sweats and a comfy t-shirt. Grabbing your phone out of your bag, you took a seat sat at your kitchen bar top to wait for your meal to be done. Opening your texts, you saw a new one from an unknown number.

Unknown Number: Hey Y/N, this is Chris. Scott gave me your number.

Unknown Number: Evans

Unknow Number: Should have typed that the first time. Just wanted to say I’m sorry that ride photo got out.

You dropped your phone out of your hand. It hit the quartz countertop hard which jolted you out of your daze.

“What?!” you yelled into your empty home.

It was crazy enough when Scott messaged you, but the fact that the two of you had drank together made this whole friendship make a tiny bit of sense. But Chris now? This was just not real. And it made you feel weird. On one hand it was nice that he reached out even though it wasn’t his fault at all. One the other hand, was this it? The one text and then you move on?

The microwave beeped at your harshly indicating your meal was done. Leaving your phone on the countertop, you moved to grab your food, picking up the hot plate with a potholder. You made your way into the living room, setting the potholder and plate on your lap. You picked up the remote for the TV, flipping through the channels and settling on The Golden Girls. Maybe a little Rose and Dorothy banter could settle your mind.

This was silly. You were going to text him back. Of course, you were going to text him back. You weren’t a rude person. This whole exchange didn’t have to mean anything. This would be a one and done conversation and to Chris you would go on being nothing more than Scott’s friend.

After scarfing down your cheese ravioli, you made your way back to the kitchen to clean up. You eyed the phone on the counter where you left it. You quickly scooped it up and plopped yourself back on the couch, opening Chris’ text again before you could change your mind.

Y/N: Thank you for reaching out, but that photo getting released was not your fault at all. I appreciate the gesture though.

You threw your head back against your couch cushion and groaned. Why am I responding like it’s a work e-mail?

You shot Jana a text to get your mind off of the message you just sent Chris.

Y/N: What size Jonas Brothers shirt am I picking up for you?

Your phone buzzed in your hand before you even had the chance to set it down, but it wasn’t Jana responding. Clicking the back arrow, you saw that Chris had responded.

Wait, he responded? Already? And at all?

Chris: I still feel bad that you were dragged into it.

Chris: Hope I’m not interrupting a Friday night out.

You chewed your bottom lip, trying to think of how to respond. Should you tell the truth that your life is pretty lame and you’re watching The Golden Girls? Did Scott talk about you to Chris? Maybe it was best not to lie.

Y/N: Just hanging out with my friends Dorothy, Blanche, and Rose.

Y/N: You’re actually saving me from another long drawn out story about Rose’s hometown of St. Olaf Minnesota.

Chris: I’m surprised your friend Blanche is home on a Friday night.

Y/N: Oh, you know Blanche? Is this going to become awkward?

Chris: 😂😂😂

Chapter 3

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