James

[morethanabattlescar]

tanananabatman·:

The awful heat had finally lifted and the outdoors became bearable again, and Tana was taking advantage of that as much as possible. She’d taken her guitar on a field trip to play in the park. She worked on some new material for the band for a while, but it was more fun when Rhys was there, so then she just played covers to amuse herself until she got thirsty.

She didn’t notice the dog until she’d paid for a bottle of water, and then her eyes got cartoon-big and she immediately melted into a soft, gooey puddle. “Oh, hi! She’s so beautiful. What’s her name?” Yes, she totally loved dogs a normal amount. Her parents had never been fond of pets, and her current apartment wasn’t well-suited to them.

.

One of his favorite things was seeing people’s reactions to Alpine and hers to them. He smiled a bit and gave her a good scritch. “This is Alpine,” he introduced and at her name, she lifted her paw to the woman and made him chuckle. “And she’s using her manners today, apparently,” he mused, glad he had packed a few extra treats in his pocket. Which was probably why she was actually being exceedingly sweet. 

“You can pet her, she’d probably like that and my arm is tired.” He knew some people were strict on who could and couldn’t touch their service animals. He loved the idea that his could bring a bright spot to someone else’s day, too. 

[morethanabattlescar]

cmweiss·:

Carly was slowing down, the cool down period after a run that was a little bit of a letdown this far from a beach.  She missed the islands, missed the feeling of not being landlocked (even though she knew she wasn’t.) She was distracted from her daily self-reminder about why she was here and why it was okay with her she was here by a very cute dog who also was very interested in what she was doing. It wasn’t until Carly approached with the intent of petting the dog, though she’d never had one of her own, that the dog approached her.  

Thankfully, the owner spoke before Carly’s own lack of self-preservation got her hand chomped off or something. 

“Hi.  She seems really sweet.  Do you mind if I pet her?” 

.

He gave her an easy smile and gave the dog some more room on her leash and patted her softly. “Go ahead, it’ll make her day,” he chuckled a bit, knowing she was spoiled to being loved on all the time. “Alpine, have a seat and introduce yourself,” he instructed. She sat her fluffy white butt down with a soft wuff and extended her paw.

[morethanabattlescar]

onstraypaper·:

When the door opened, his smile broadened easily and he stepped into the apartment but all he could look at for a moment was Grant. He was the best thing he had seen since the last time he'd seen him and that deserved a second to just soak in. "It wasn't too bad at all," he shrugged lightly, used to navigating harder areas then anything D.C. had to throw at him. Reaching up, he brushed his hand over his cheek lightly, his thumb brushing over his cheekbone as he reassured himself that Grant was doing alright, his eyes searching his face for a moment with intent. "Hi," he murmured when he was satisfied.

He stepped away because if he gave in to the urge for more right then, he wasn't going to want to stop. Turning, he took a proper look at the apartment and his eyes widened in delight. "Oh Grant," he murmured happily as he stepped further inside. Everything felt soft and bright and it made sense to him that it was what he had wanted in a place to stay. He just kind of wanted to look at everything, Grant included.

[onstraypapers]

a day late | james & grant (cont. from this thread)

@morethanabattlescar

tw: literally everything, we’re the worst. child/parent death, cancer, war, violence, severe injury, hospitals, surgery, amputation mention, ptsd, panic/anxiety attacks, depression, grief, therapy, insomnia, nightmares, negative thoughts, divorce, angst & mutual pining

Keep reading

[morethanabattlescar]

onstraypaper·:

who: closed starter for @morethanabattlescar· when: thursday, 6pm where: grant’s apartment

James only ever asked for Grant to try to talk to him. He was well aware that there were some things that were hard to explain in a way someone else could understand, but he was grateful for the attempt. He had his own version of grey days, so he knew enough to let Grant come to him as he wanted or could. He filled the time with random snapshots on his daily life, his hand curled around a cup of coffee, Alpine asleep on his shoes, a sprawl of metal that ultimately belonged to a motorcyle, any way to let Grant know that he understood and was there like he had promised.

It helped him work through his own emotional crash, but sleep had been the hard part as emotions often made it. Insomnia filled nights meant dragging days, but a frighteningly tidy apartment that made him uncomfortable in his more relaxed moments. An extra cup of coffee on Thursday was vital to his survival because he refused to miss his date. He'd cleared enough of his work to use a personal day the next in the hopes he could sleep it away while Grant traveled. That thought in mind, he sipped on the last bit of his coffee as he knocked on the door and tried to keep himself from smiling like an absolute dope.

[morethanabattlescar]

Who: open | @districtstarters When: weekend anytime Where: Outside (park/outdoor bar)

As often as he could when the weather was nice and he and Alpine were both up to it, James took her out and about on the town. They never minded going anywhere that kept them inside, but too many people too close for too long left him tense. It was a far cry from the charming young man he used to be.  Sipping on the drink at his elbow, he sank his fingers into the soft white fur between her ears. When she stood up and got in front of him, his eyes instinctively lifted. She was calm, even looked adorable with the head tilt as she watched the newcomer. “Hi, she’s nice,” he said with a little scratch that told her she could stand down.

[morethanabattlescar]

onstraypaper·:

It took a moment to remember what he was talking about before the drawing on the napkin resurfaced in his memory. He was prone to scribbling on things every time he had a pen in his hand, had probably spilled on or thrown away more pointless doodles than he’d ever kept, but that was the most common one these days. She kept him company. “Nah. Just a phone doodle.”

He wasn’t sure coffee was the best idea for him right now. He felt almost jittery inside, though his hands were steady around the cup as he retook his seat. “Why can’t you?” Maybe it was a stupid question, but… god, he really had no idea what James was doing with his life anymore. It felt like an oversight now, that he’d deliberately stepped out of any conversation that mentioned him when he was home in Boston, rather than the self-preservation it had been. “Illustrator. Mostly children’s books. New York is close enough when I need to be there.”

.

James couldn't help the soft, fond smile at the answer. "Your infamous phone doodles," he teased lightly. "I always liked the note doodles," he admitted, though his favorites all sat in a small box that had traveled the world with him and were now kept company by foreign coins, polaroids, and single dog tags. It was nice to know that at least that hadn't changed.

That question instinctively had him rubbing at his arm as though it accomplished anything that way. "Ah, medical discharge. Can't be Special Forces if your arm is partially immobile," he tried to shrug as though it didn't matter, like the scars didn't pull and ache still, like the nightmares weren't there regularly. Right now, none of it did matter. He smiled, "That's amazing, Grant! I'm glad you're still doing what you love." It would have broken his heart if the man had lost that, too.

[morethanabattlescar]

onstraypaper·:

Grant didn’t blame him for the way it ended. How could he? It hurt, yeah. Until May, it hurt more than anything had ever hurt him, but it wasn’t James’s fault. He’d known him better than anyone once, better than he knew his own heart, and he knew that James did the right thing by staying with his family. If there was blame there, Grant put it on himself because a part of him wished he’d dropped everything and gone to Chicago. If he’d known what he knew now, he would have, but he couldn’t know better until knowing better was useless.

He didn’t kid himself that they were going to resolve any of that over one cup of coffee– or ever, maybe. Fifteen years might be an impossible gap to bridge. But James agreed, and that was … something. More than he’d expected. “Okay.” He smiled, quick and genuine, and told himself not to let all the relief he felt show in it. He would have understood, but the prospect of watching him walk away right now was unpleasant. Watching it later was a problem for later.

It was unfair for him to be so smooth when Grant felt so undone, but that was typical. He hadn’t felt so close to the teenager he’d been in a long time, the one who immediately got awkward and tongue-tied around someone pretty. Thank god he didn’t feel things that strongly anymore. James was probably the only person in the world who could drag that back up. He tipped his head toward the counter where there was no line and paid for their coffee before moving aside to wait. “Working for the government?” he prompted quietly, picking up the thread of their previous conversation.

.

James didn't think there was anything he wouldn't forgive Grant for if it had ever been a necessary thought process for him to work through. They had been young and had far more than their fair share dumped on them. His indecision certainly hadn't helped anything, or he might have been able to simply go to college with the love of his life. But things still might have happened the way they had, they could never know, and it wasn't worth dwelling on now. Fifteen years was a lot of time to grow and change. He never outgrew his feelings for Grant, but he knew that wasn't the case on the other end.

The sight of that smile apparently could still make his stomach do a weird dance, apparently. He would go back to war for that alone if he had to. He gestured for him to head to the counter, sliding reasonably close to his side without being invasive. "I hope the coffee didn't ruin anything you were working on," he said quietly as they stepped up to the counter. 

As they picked up their coffees, he hummed softly at the prompt and tipped his head to make their way back to where Grant had been set up. "I'm an intelligence analyst now and hating every minute of being stuck at a desk, but I can't do much about that," he shrugged as he slid into a seat, his eyes taking in the other's face. "What are you doing these days?"

[thedistrictroleplay]

ID:

Name | Nickname | Age:  James Nicholas Lane | Jamie | 36 Birthday | Astrology:  March 10, 1985 | Pisces  Pronouns | Sexual identity:  He/him | Bisexual  Birthplace | Raised: Boston, MA Residence:  Capitol Hill Occupation:  Intelligence Analyst  Faceclaim: Sebastian Stan 

TRIGGER WARNINGS:  parent death tw, friend death tw, death tw, injury tw, suicidal thoughts tw, SI tw, PTSD tw

TIMELINE: 

1985 – James Nicholas Lane is born to George and Winifred Lane

1994 – James’s sister Kimberly was born

2001 – Meets Grant Andersen

2004 – James’s family moves to Chicago. James’s father passes away suddenly. James and Grant break up. James enlists in the US Army

2005 - .James completes U.S. Army Special Forces Training

2010 – James CO is killed on an op

2012 – James accepts promotion to run his own team

2015 – Winifred Lane passes away

2017 – James is injured in the line of duty

2018 – James is medically discharged from the US Army

2019 – Moves to D.C. for work

BIOGRAPHY:  

Lane had been used to moving around for most of his life, growing up in a military home. It never made for very long-term friendships, but it meant he always had new people to get to know. He made friends easily, able to charm his way through life with stories and a listening ear in equal measure. He enjoyed playing sports, which always lent itself to acceptance, but there was enough nerd in him to keep him leveled out and not arrogant.

Finally when his family settled in Boston and it seemed like they were going to stay, he met Grant Andersen and he wondered if that was why nothing else in his life had ever really stuck. Gorgeous and talented, James was awestruck and determined to keep Grant around for as long as he could. They were practically inseparable, and while their plans were different, they were absolutely determined to figure it out.

And then Chicago happened. His family moved, his father died, and he was left to try and hold his family together however he could. New York with Grant seemed like an unattainable dream, then, no matter how hard he clung to it. When they started receiving final notices, he knew he had to do something. His choice was to at least make his father proud, and he followed in his footsteps, joining the U.S. Army. At least that way, most of his pay could be sent home to take care of his mom and sister.

Swallowing down all the pain in his chest at the realization that he wouldn’t be able to stay with the love of his life, he knuckled down during training. He pushed to the point he was able to attend SERE training and ultimately wound up joining a special forces unit. He showed a ridiculous aptitude for tactics and languages, which improved his standing in the unit. He settled in, ran missions and accepted deployments, barely managing to ignore the ripping sensation in his chest when he found out Grant had gotten married. He didn’t take a single trip back to the states that year, even after the loss of his CO. Or the year after that.

When he finally accepted the offer to run his own team, he took to it like a duck to water. After all, they had been the people he had spent his life with for years at that point and there was a trust there that was second only to what he’d had once with Grant. He hated the awards and commendations that came from doing what he thought of as his duty, tucking them quietly away into a box because he rarely attended events that called for his dress uniform. His team was always curious about his lack of life outside of the team, outside of his sister and mother, but he never wanted to give his attention to anyone else for more than a night or two. When Winifred passed away, even that became rare.

His sister focused on college and he threw himself even harder into the job. The injury that ended his career rocked his cornerstones in the worst way. Alone outside of his team, who still had jobs to do, he spiraled through his discharge and spent a great deal of time in recovery. A hard ass counselor and a talk from his team later, he decided to accept a job offer in D.C. that let him maintain some contact with them but stay as busy as he could in a relatively civilian life. The real question was going to be how to mend the pieces of him into someone human, someone that could be mostly whole again. He’s working on it. Mostly.

Jamie is written by Tiff.

[morethanabattlescar]

onstraypaper·:

At least a dozen more questions started a traffic jam in his mind because, really, that raised more than it answered. He was a little shocked that he actually wanted to know. He’d spent so long deliberately avoiding any news of James that he had no idea where his life had taken him after he enlisted. He’d decided it was easier not to know.

And that rule was in shreds when confronted with the reality of him, because he wanted to ask him everything. Grant nodded slowly and let him take the cup. It was hard to tease out a single question from the jumbled mess. He hesitated before he asked it, having no idea how it would be received. It was entirely possible James hadn’t wanted to know about him either, and still didn’t. “Are you busy right now? Can I buy you a cup of coffee?”

.

Even with all the pain it brought him, James had kept an ear for any news of Grant that he could get. He had heard about his marriage, his daughter, his divorce, all the grape vine that was mothers with connections in the same place. It had been why he had never made his way back to Boston when he actually took his leave. He figured that he had moved on, as he had every right to, and Grant should be nothing more than a ghost in his history.

He was glad he didn’t have to move far to throw everything away because the question almost knocked him flat. He had never expected to get even that. A part of him had been sure that if Grant had ever seen him again, he’d have turned around and simply walked away. “I’ve got all the time in the world,” he assured him before thinking he shouldn’t have said that. “I’d love a cup of coffee.” With you, he left unsaid. He was already in a coffee shop, after all, but he hadn’t intended to stick around. Now, he didn’t see how he could leave. 

[morethanabattlescar]

onstraypaper·:

He knew he was still staring, but he couldn’t seem to make himself stop. His face was familiar and different at once. Still heart-stoppingly beautiful, but that figured. He didn’t know what expression was on his own face right now, but if he had to guess, it was probably something like the one James was wearing. He hadn’t emotionally prepared himself for this kind of encounter when he got out of bed this morning. But how often did life throw them something they were expecting?

“Oh–” The movement snapped him out of it, and he glanced down at the mess. Car trouble. Spilled coffee. Apparently, he was destined to always be a wreck at their first meetings. “It’s no problem.” His racing heart didn’t believe him. He righted the cup and tucked a few soaked napkins in it to throw away. His gaze drifted back up, like he had to reconfirm he was still there. “Are you… living in D.C.?” He didn’t know what question he was going to ask when he started that sentence, but that one seemed reasonable.

.

A soft, fond smile took over as he was reminded of their first meeting, ridiculous messes that somehow turned into magic. He had never expected a broken down car to lead to something so wonderful in his life. He certainly had never expected to walk into a place for coffee and run into that wonder long after he thought it had been lost. That was something he was still working on processing, and he figured it was going to take longer than a few moments.

"I am," he confirmed with a small nod, reaching to add his napkins to the cup and take it from him slowly so he could throw it into a nearby trashcan. "Fun times, working for the government," he pointed out with a heavy sigh as he ignored the twinge in his arm and shoulder that he worried would never go away.

[morethanabattlescar]

onstraypaper·:

The napkin holder on his table was empty (of course), and he’d started to stand to get some from the next table over when the sound of his name snapped his head up. Not his name, specifically, but his name in that voice. He stood too fast and knocked into the table again, spilling the coffee more conclusively. He swore under his breath, grabbing a few napkins and shoving them at the mess.

He’d have been less shocked to see a ghost. Supposedly, those could manifest anywhere, right? Seeing James in the city where he lived, miles and years from where they’d known each other, was harder to process. It took him a long moment to realize he was staring at him, coffee completely forgotten. “Hi,” he said finally, and it came out softer than he meant it to.

.

There was never going to come a time when James would be able to do anything except stare in wonder at Grant, and this certainly deserved that. He had never thought to see him again, much less in a place that neither of them had ever had a connection to before. He drifted a step closer in silence before the dripping of coffee caught his attention. Rapidly, he blinked and grabbed napkins before stepping forward to start catching it before any more of it got further.

"I'm so sorry," he murmured, and the tightness in his chest told him it wasn't over the coffee, but that was the easy explanation. This was never supposed to be them. Strangers instead of lovers, instead of partners, strangers with pained distance that shook him to his core.

[morethanabattlescar]

onstraypaper·:

who: open / @districtstarters· when: daytime where: any coffee shop

Grant was sitting in a coffee shop at a table by the window, the sun spilling in on an untouched mug of coffee and the napkin he was doodling on. His phone was tucked between his ear and shoulder, and he made affirmative sounds every now and then to whoever was on the other end. His agent must have realized he didn’t have his full attention because the next question came out more snappish than the others, and he smiled. “Yeah, I’m writing it down.” He wasn’t.

He added another line to the wings on the tiny fairy girl in his drawing. They both knew he was going to e-mail him the details as soon as he got off the phone. “Friday. I’ll be there.” He hung up just as someone bumped into his table, sloshing hot coffee onto the table, the napkin, and his hand, and he hissed under his breath as he jerked it back from the sting.

.

James hated these days: work that was mostly meetings followed by physical therapy. They left him an irritated ball of exposed nerves that just wanted to curl up and hide away from the world. Once, he never would have dreamed of it, he would have gone in search of particular company, but he hadn’t been that person for a long time. 

He needed something to give him some kind of peace, and coffee was still one of those things. He made a habit of hitting coffee shops he hadn’t been to within a week of seeing them, usually. It unfortunately meant that he went to a lot of them and this was his first time in this particular one. He was partially checked out and thought he heard a familiar voice before he barely managed to avoid getting run over by someone in a hurry (looked like someone’s P.A. that was trying desperately hard to keep their job), turning when he heard the hiss behind him.

Turning, he started to apologize only to freeze, his heart lodging itself in his throat as he tried to process what and who he was seeing. “I...” He cleared his throat when his voice came out strangled, shoving his hands into his pockets when, even after all these years, they instinctively reached out. “Grant,” he almost breathed out before he forced himself to straighten and take a breath, “Hi.”