what do you think of "Here Without You" by 3 Doors Down for J? 👀
Based on the title alone, I was starting to nod to myself, but then I checked the lyrics and... 😭. It's perfect for them on multiple levels.
But all the miles that separate
They disappear now when I'm dreaming of your face
I'm here without you, baby, but you're still on my lonely mind
I think about you, baby, and I dream about you all the time
I'm here without you, baby, but you're still with me in my dreams
And tonight, it's only you and me, yeah
The yearning J has felt for the Returning Visitor for years, at this point, still persists in the current TFS timeline, and this song conveys it in a beautifully wistful-sense.
At the start, the lines about 'lies making them colder' and how the 'time without you has made them older' (mature/less naive, imo) also tracks since J learned how to guard their heart and became reserved instead of being the quiet childhood friend you knew. There is a lot about their time in Fernweh while you weren't able to be by their side that you don't know about yet. We'll be discovering that throughout the series, many reveals and twists. 👀 The dream aspect is angsty for J who works very long hours and sleeps fitfully, so dreaming of you could be something they have mixed feelings on. The self-projected comfort vs. inevitably waking up and you being nowhere in town that would make the ache of missing you and worrying about if you're okay that much more acute.
Plus, there's ???, so.... 🥲
Thank you for sharing this song choice for them! 💚
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He misses you too, Anon, and has for a while now. 🥹
Today is J. Corvin's birthday! 💚 In honor of it, you'll find character sketches of James below, though there are more pictures: here! This gorgeous collection of art is by Three. I love that there's a wistful longing to his gaze! I wonder what (or whom) he's thinking about?
Here's a scene for J-mancers from TFS: Book Two. Both are versions below!
James
. . .
A solid connection of something against metal disrupts the collective pause and wrenches free a measly squeak.
It takes everyone by surprise.
Instantly, you're moving before your mind can fully quantify James staggering only a fraction of a step, mere inches at best. You reach out before Reese, who was much closer, can. He shoots a knowing look your way that's tinged with unabashed respect. You rest your palm on James's upper back in what's hopefully a steadying motion despite how you're wrinkling his ironed shirt from alarm.
He doesn't shrug off your touch, leaning in as if recognizing who it belongs to before turning around. James clasps your hand mid-turn to prevent your frozen palm from inadvertently resting on his chest. You're a little intense after waiting for his late arrival tonight and from watching that video tape, your fingers catching in cotton instead of letting go as they normally would. He makes up for that by very delicately releasing yours.
*page_break
You locate what's wrong in seconds.
Peeking out behind James and Reese, there's a water fountain that's fit for a grand museum. It blends into the surroundings thanks to its ebony, wrought iron trim, no speck of dull plastic or loud chrome to pull people's focus. James must have caught his side—part of his hip—on where it juts out into the hall.
That will leave behind a bruise.
"Detective?"
"Didn't see it there," James mutters. He overlooks the range of attention he's receiving to adopt a kneel. He puts weight on the fountain's curve to test its mounted hinge. "It's okay."
"They can swallow their spit," you dismiss his diligence while mildly perturbed. He's way more important! "Do you think we're worried about a fountain?"
"Besides, they have many others," Reese adds. "Soda is 'all the rage'."
"Wait, why'd you say it like that?"
"I do not particularly care for fizz," Reese explains to Becca. "Champagne is an exception due to my preferred decanting method."
"Why do…?"
You completely tune out Becca and Reese's conversation about carbonated drinks, stepping around to where James is shining a light on the wall mount. From the corner of his eye, he must spy you, setting his jaw so a jawline you've often traced stands out further. Is he embarrassed? It was a hard smack; the fountain is encased in metal after all.
*page_break
"Are you okay?" you whisper.
"Yes, thank you."
His flashlight's illumination is mostly absorbed by the underside of the machine, throwing faint shadows over his expression that's reserved. When you lean in out of childhood habit, the same one that had you walking faster once there was a slim possibility he was hurt, James inhales. It's hushed to your ears, a tentative breath that will easily be stolen once he witnesses something beautiful, one of preparation. Despite the years in between, you recognize it from marveling at stars together in the tree house. He never tired of them.
Thinking back on what happened, didn't James's head turn before the collision…?
Where was he looking?
You soon find the answer in intense green eyes you should've known your whole life.
They're the same ones that regarded you gently after your first kiss that's a nostalgic memory compared to your new reality.
_ _ _
Jane
. . .
A solid connection of something against metal disrupts the collective pause and wrenches free a measly squeak.
It takes everyone by surprise.
Instantly, you're moving before your mind can fully quantify Jane staggering only a fraction of a step, mere inches at best. You reach out before Ruby, who was much closer, can. She shoots a knowing look your way that's tinged with unabashed respect. You rest your palm on Jane's upper back in what's hopefully a steadying motion despite how you're wrinkling her ironed shirt from alarm.
She doesn't shrug off your touch, leaning in as if recognizing who it belongs to before turning around. Jane clasps your hand mid-turn to prevent your frozen palm from inadvertently resting on her chest. You're a little intense after waiting for her late arrival tonight and from watching that video tape, your fingers catching in cotton instead of letting go as they normally would. She makes up for that by very delicately releasing yours.
*page_break
You locate what's wrong in seconds.
Peeking out behind Jane and Ruby, there's a water fountain that's fit for a grand museum. It blends into the surroundings thanks to its ebony, wrought iron trim, no speck of dull plastic or loud chrome to pull people's focus. Jane must have caught her side—part of her hip—on where it juts out into the hall.
That will leave behind a bruise.
"Detective?"
"Didn't see it there," Jane mutters. She overlooks the range of attention she's receiving to adopt a kneel. She puts weight on the fountain's curve to test its mounted hinge. "It's okay."
"They can swallow their spit," you dismiss her diligence while mildly perturbed. She's way more important! "Do you think we're worried about a fountain?"
"Besides, they have many others," Ruby adds. "Soda is 'all the rage'."
"Wait, why'd you say it like that?"
"I do not particularly care for fizz," Ruby explains to Beckett. "Champagne is an exception due to my preferred decanting method."
"Why do…?"
You completely tune out Beckett and Ruby's conversation about carbonated drinks, stepping around to where Jane is shining a light on the wall mount. From the corner of her eye, she must spy you, setting her jaw so a jawline you've often traced stands out further. Is she embarrassed? It was a hard smack; the fountain is encased in metal after all.
*page_break
"Are you okay?" you whisper.
"Yes, thank you."
Her flashlight's illumination is mostly absorbed by the underside of the machine, throwing faint shadows over her expression that's reserved. When you lean in out of childhood habit, the same one that had you walking faster once there was a slim possibility she was hurt, Jane inhales. It's hushed to your ears, a tentative breath that will easily be stolen once she witnesses something beautiful, one of preparation. Despite the years in between, you recognize it from marveling at stars together in the tree house. She never tired of them.
Thinking back on what happened, didn't Jane's head turn before the collision…?
Where was she looking?
You soon find the answer in intense green eyes you should've known your whole life.
They're the same ones that regarded you gently after your first kiss that's a nostalgic memory compared to your new reality.
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hii aelsa! stoked to see you more active on here again & so, so excited for more fernweh. i hope this doesn’t sound too forward and i don’t mean to pressure you but any chance we could peek at a devlog?
Hi Anon,
Thank you for your warm welcome! 🥹
Oof, you're too kind. I've been quite literally lost in Fernweh, keeping my head down while writing, but I'm trying to post now and then to offer some reassurance (or at least unhinged, tempting tags) to readers. It's sometimes me handshaking the TFS grandfather. I've grown so used to that relative isolation and quiet while writing. Onwards to your ask!
No worries, please! I'm glad that you're curious about Book Two.
🌲~Progress Update Lite~ 🌲
(I'll eventually do one that's more 'official', thank you! 💚)
I had a rough start to this year with my mom (accident, surgery, and on-going recovery for her ability to walk) that impacted my writing pace at the outset of the year, but! She is improving with each day.
I've mostly resumed my typical, stringent writing schedule. I work on TFS every single day (aside from like mid-January, February, and early March of 2026 where irl was hectic.) I can't quite say when my hopeful finish date is for this second entry; I don't want to mention a date and then disappoint. I can say that it should easily be 3.5 times the first one—over 2 million words for you to explore—if not more with how its variation is stacking ever higher! (A scene I'm working on rn features R's teasing/drama. It was supposed to be 3, but it's now 15-ish distinct ones based on past dynamics + choices, each one a few pages. 😎)
I've made significant headway filling the outline at this point.
A few of the latter chapters are behemoths, so it's hard to neatly gauge without getting into wordcounts, which vary by chapter (for instance, one of mine is 45k, another is 300k, lol), and greater story context.
My sincere hope is that readers experience how I've improved across the two entries in the series. More choices, variation, smoother style, and more fun for you! Naturally, I know part of that's going to come once I release the actual demo, though hopefully you're intrigued by the snippets, teasers, and other posts on here (or free ones on Patreon) that provide glimmers of what's to come! Progress remains steady and constant, and I'm extremely grateful for your support, kindness, and patience. 💚Wishing you all the best!
Bonus Snippet from Book Two:
James
"How'd you know?" he murmurs.
"Just did," you admit. "I needed one too."
After your hushed truth, James solidly rests his palm on your back, never pushing you closer but proving he's there. Your hug lasts for an indeterminate moment that's as repairing as it is soothing until he eventually separates. You shake your head before he can speak—before he can express the emotion that far exceeds 'gratitude' as if you profoundly saved him by taking the time to care and listen. You smile briefly to blunt your refusal. "Would you thank me if I tripped you next? What then?"
"You wouldn't."
"I might."
James doesn't offer a counter, his whole-hearted trust in you apparent from his lips curving in genuine fondness.
"I would," you weakly assert. "Like, if I had to trip you because—because there was a bear trap or something in the path. I could."
"Then I'd fall on it…"
"I would time it correctly."
James's smile broadens, although he sides with your logic, nodding.
Jane
"How'd you know?" she murmurs.
"Just did," you admit. "I needed one too."
After your hushed truth, Jane solidly rests her palm on your back, never pushing you closer but proving she's there. Your hug lasts for an indeterminate moment that's as repairing as it is soothing until she eventually separates. You shake your head before she can speak—before she can express the emotion that far exceeds 'gratitude' as if you profoundly saved her by taking the time to care and listen. You smile briefly to blunt your refusal. "Would you thank me if I tripped you next? What then?"
"You wouldn't."
"I might."
Jane doesn't offer a counter, her whole-hearted trust in you apparent from her lips curving in genuine fondness.
"I would," you weakly assert. "Like, if I had to trip you because—because there was a bear trap or something in the path. I could."
"Then I'd fall on it…"
"I would time it correctly."
Jane's smile broadens, although she sides with your logic, nodding.
can we hc that j created the nickname that b now calls us?
Fellow angst enjoyer spotted, hello Anon! 👀
It's fine to headcanon that.
It comes up in the series as something you'll tailor according to your Returning Visitor and your angst preference, but that's ~eventually~.
We only learn J's nickname in Book Two. It's somewhat choice-dependent now that I think about it... (I've likely mentioned it on Tumblr once.) There's a chance that A either states it in front of you or that you overhear what it is. Later, your MC could slip up and refer to their childhood friend in this manner if they're emotional/stricken in a particular scene. 🥹 There is also a set scene with J's mom where she'll mention heartbreaking details that link back to this nickname and the new, melancholy meaning it took on during your absence from J's life.
everytime i saw a bug i just got reminded to j bc im afraid to them but j was like. raised on a farm so they must be nbd to j 😭
Aw, this is adorable, Anon!
J would chivalrously and happily handle any bugs for you.🥰💚
You're right. J's upbringing on the Corvin farm came with many chores, partially because they wanted to take over for A to let them be more carefree, and a tendency to be outdoors. You'll be visiting their home in TFS: Book Two. I'll tease and say: it's on the outskirts of town proper. Because of this, the Corvin siblings tended to play in the woods or on Corvin land itself, so hide-and-seek, make-believe games, and natural exploration kids get up to, which comes with... lots of bugs. 🐛
J will have you covered though, knowing which ones are chill/safer.
They're disinclined to kill them, preferring to let them be or taking them back outside if they've wandered inside, unlike R who typically smites them on sight because 'ew' or 'ah'. (This comes up for JR in Book One.)
Imagine your Returning Visitor worriedly calling J to 'take care' of a bug and then you later find that the caterpillar is being fed very tiny slices of butterleaf lettuce in the kitchen while J's working on salads as part of your meal. (Both versions, J. Corvin fluff snippet below!)
James
"It'll grow into a butterfly," he reasons.
You glance between him and the caterpillar nibbling on sprinkle-sized bits of lettuce in a small jar. Of course, James cut them up with care, like how he handles anything that's made for someone else versus when he tries to 'cook' for himself. With the thick glass acting as a barrier, the little guy doesn't look quiet as creepy compared to when it was crawling along the bathroom tile. You finish shrugging on your shirt, bending some at the waist to peer down at the bug. It wiggles in greeting, still chewing on your organic greens. "It's a fuzzy worm," you mutter.
"The other day, you asked me if I would still love you if you were a—"
"That was different!"
James smiles fondly following your somewhat flustered interjection, putting down his pairing knife to offer you his hand. "I would," he affirms in a murmur. "Even if you weren't fuzzy and a red wiggler."
You don't know what a 'red wiggler' is, but the underlying sentiment is doubtlessly sweet when it's coming from James, although he confirms this by guiding you closer and pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek.
_ _ _
Jane
"It'll grow into a butterfly," she reasons.
You glance between her and the caterpillar nibbling on sprinkle-sized bits of lettuce in a small jar. Of course, Jane cut them up with care, like how she handles anything that's made for someone else versus when she tries to 'cook' for herself. With the thick glass acting as a barrier, the little guy doesn't look quiet as creepy compared to when it was crawling along the bathroom tile. You finish shrugging on your shirt, bending some at the waist to peer down at the bug. It wiggles in greeting, still chewing on your organic greens. "It's a fuzzy worm," you mutter.
"The other day, you asked me if I would still love you if you were a—"
"That was different!"
Jane smiles fondly following your somewhat flustered interjection, putting down her pairing knife to offer you her hand. "I would," she affirms in a murmur. "Even if you weren't fuzzy and a red wiggler."
You don't know what a 'red wiggler' is, but the underlying sentiment is doubtlessly sweet when it's coming from Jane, although she confirms this by guiding you closer and pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek.
