#i wanna start writing fics again

[glass-windows]

it's been so long... is anybody out here...

[damian-lil-babybat]

'Dead Poets Society' gang

Headcanon that these four drop poetry and literature quotes on their conversations unprompted.

Jason 'English-major-I-only-visit-the-manor-for-the-library' Todd-Wayne

Damian 'I-master-liberal-arts-unlike-you-plebs-PHD-holder' al Ghul-Wayne

Cassandra 'I-learn-English-thru-Shakespeare-as-god-intended' Cain-Wayne

Duke 'only-title-holder-of-vigilante-poet-and-will-cuss-you-just-as-poetically' Thomas-(future) Wayne

[waterfallofspace]

Allergic To Concepts

Is anyone else still into the M/agnus Archives? Maybe, maybe not, but I have had this fic sitting in my google docs for months, and I just finally managed to get myself to finish up the last bit, so here is part one of a possible two part fic, if I can ever manage to get myself to write the next part!

So, if anyone wants, please enjoy a little Allergic to concepts Jon. aka, Jon is so allergic to dogs that just the idea of them gets him a bit worked up~

I'll never be over this podcast, and I might start sharing small (tiny) drabbles of these guys if anyone would be interested <3 or even just to start coaxing myself back into writing~

Characters: Jon, Martin, Tim, and Sasha Word Count: 2.7k

“-so to conclude, we absolutely, most certainly, cannot do that,” Martin finishes, hands woven into his hair. Seems to happen more often nowadays; getting a job you’re not exactly qualified for tends to bring on a touch of added stress. What brings even more stress, however, are the faces staring back at him, twin smiles painted across worryingly calm canvases. Seems once a poet, always a poet, even in your own thoughts. 

Tim chuckles, mischief running through his eyes. “How do you even know that? You been stalking our new boss?” 

“W-well no, it’s just that…” Martin starts, beginning to study the floor as his rambling starts to take over. “Well there may have been an… incident, of- of sorts, with a uh… well it was, I was trying to open this door, but see I was holding files, and there was this dog, and they kinda just- well I was trying to stop it but it got in and- so I went to Jon’s office and he was just kinda… and then I-” 

“So what?” Tim interrupts, mercifully saving Martin from his own tongue. “Why should his issues stop us from havin’ a good time?” With a snap of his fingers, Tim casts Sasha a devious wink. The colour seems to drain from Martin’s face as he holds up a shaking finger, aiming somewhere behind Tim’s shoulders. 

“Ah, speak of the devil,” Sasha mutters, her smile never wavering. 

Spinning on his heel, Tim turns to greet the newest arrival to the hallway. “Fancy seeing you here, boss! Burning the midday oil?” 

Jon pauses, papers nearly spilling from his crowded arms as he fumbles with some keys. “That’s not an expression. And what are you all doing cramped in the hall? Don’t any of you have work to do?” 

Martin nearly keels over as Jon’s glare settles against him, seemingly deeming him responsible for this lapse in progress. As if! In fact, he’d been the one begging them to get back to work. Honestly, Jon should appreciate the fact that he talked them out of-

“Actually, we’re thinking of heading off for the day,” Tim cuts in, leaving Martin’s mouth nearly hanging open. Had they not just gone over why this was a horrible idea? As if to answer his unspoken question, Sasha joins in with support for Tim’s cause. Martin’s pretty sure there’s actually a gap between his lips. 

Jon, having opened the office by this point, merely stops and stares. Seconds pass, though it feels more like minutes. There appears to be some sort of staring match between the three of them. 

Finally Jon breaks the silence with a short… well, it’s hard to call it a laugh, more like a huff. His posture tightens as he attempts to pull himself to his full height, casting Tim a wary glance. “You can’t be serious.” 

“Quite serious in fact! See, me and Sasha have been thinking,” Tim pauses, gesturing to the aforementioned with a sickly sweet smile. Merely performance charm, which given the eye-roll she shoots back, Sasha’s well aware of. “All of us here need a chance to bond.” 

“Bond, you say,” Jon’s monotone voice offers no insight to how he’s taking this suggestion. As Martin’s mouth begins to dry, his hands start working their way back into his hair. 

“Indeed!” Tim continues, seemingly oblivious to Martin’s rapidly increasing heart rate. “We’ve all been stuck here together, figured we should become more of a team, you know? A team-building exercise you could call it. Something to get us more on the same page.” 

“And what is this ‘team-building exercise’ you have in mind?” 

Well, his heart may have been racing before, but it’s not anymore. In fact, he’s almost entirely convinced it’s just stopped completely. Jon’s eyes meet his own, and Martin drops his gaze fast enough to leave him dizzy. 

This time Sasha speaks up, her coy tone doing nothing to alleviate the heart attack symptoms Martin’s now convinced he’s feeling. “An animal rescue cafe. They rescue dogs and cats, the ones that need rehoming, and bring them there so you can get to know them before you adopt. One opened just down the street from here, and me and Tim have been looking into going. We figured, might as well drag you and Martin along with us.” 

Jon’s glare narrows further, a single hand coming up to rest between his eyes. The movement is completed by pushing up his glasses with a sigh. “And how exactly does drinking tea in a room full of animals qualify as team building?” 

“You can tell a lot about a person from the way they treat animals,” Tim offers. “Not to mention the fact that there’s a whole study about how psychopaths are more likely to hate cats, which is mostly due to the fact cats have willful behaviour.” 

Martin can almost taste his heartbeat at this point, a fact he’s finding quite alarming. Still rummaging through papers, Jon steps into his office. Much to Martin’s chagrin, they all seem to be following him. 

“Are you suggesting someone working in this office is a psychopath, Tim?” Jon continues, huffing out another sigh as he notices the entourage entering his office. Jon’s glare lands on Martin once more, something he’s almost gotten used to at this point. 

Laughter begins to flow from Tim, Sasha joining in with a mild chuckle. “Of course not, but hey, this job’s all about researching things that probably aren’t true. Better safe than sorry, right?” 

Seemingly the only one noticing Jon’s growing apprehension, or maybe just the only one that cares, Martin can’t peel his eyes off their boss. Unaware of the scrutiny, though perhaps expecting it nonetheless, Jon pushes up his glasses again. Martin doesn’t miss the way he lets a single finger brush against his nose during this action. Nor do his eyes skip over the light scrunch forming at the bridge of said nose. 

Oblivious as always, Tim’s still going on about the cafe. Something about which animals are available, what tea they serve, scones, and more useless information. Sasha’s typing something in her phone, apparently fact checking his current ramblings. Still, all of that fades into the background as Martin’s attention is drawn to Jon once more. 

At first, he can’t figure out why he’s watching. Jon didn’t speak, and from his posture he hasn’t made any significant gestures. There doesn’t seem to be anything specifically that should have caught his eye, and yet-  

And then it happens again. Jon’s brows tighten, his eyes begin to flutter shut, and his lips part just enough for his tongue to peek out between them. There’s a beat of silence, then a single breathy inhale, barely noticeable above Tim’s monologuing. 

“ihh-” 

Just as quickly as it began, Jon crushes it back once more, a hand roughing swiping against his nose. There’s a quiet feeling of– perverse excitement as Martin watches him. Why? No earthly idea. It’s not as if there’s anything specifically… exciting about the action. There’s no physical stimulation beginning, to phrase it politely. 

Still, there’s something… almost electrifying, about bearing witness to a moment so personal and private. As if the only person in the room is Jon, and he’s opened the door for Martin to join him in his world. Which, as you think about it, just becomes more and more– creepy as hell! Damn it! 

Pulling himself from his thoughts, Martin manages to peel his gaze away from Jon. Zoning back into Tim’s rambling, he just barely catches the tail end of a rant about different toppings on cinnamon buns. His silence was entirely unnoticed. Understandably, given only Tim had said anything in minutes. 

“Personally, I’m a fan of the regular cream cheese icing,” Martin offers, forcing himself to keep his eyes on Tim as another soft sniffle sounds behind him. The others don’t notice it, Sasha rolling her eyes as a light begins to dawn in Tim’s. 

“Well, interesting you say that Martin, they actually have those at the cafe down the street! Isn’t that such a wonderful coincidence?” Tim swirls his body towards Martin, casting a playful glance back at Jon as he continues. “Wouldn’t you like to stop by and get yourself one of those delicious buns?” 

Martin feels his face begin to pale again, and barely manages a meek, “W-well… I don’t need to… get one right now… but if you want-” 

Thankfully he’s saved from himself as a gasp sounds out from the desk. Everyone in the room turns, Martin included, just in time to see Jon duck into his wrist with a tight, “ih’nGXt–uih!” 

“Bless you!” Sasha calls, Tim and Martin echoing the sentiment. A flush begins to spread over Jon’s cheeks, but it’s brushed off as he waves a hand, continuing to scribble on some papers. Casting a glance over to Tim, Martin sighs as the mischief floods the other man's face. He’s very clearly not letting this go. 

“Was that actually a sneeze?” Tim laughs, mimicking the sound as Sasha suppresses a giggle. 

Jon keeps his head down, pen still moving across the paper in disjointed movements. “It was in fact a sneeze, yes. Happens to everyone from time to time, no need to make a big deal out of it. Now, I believe you were going to a cat and do- hiHh! rescue cafe?” 

The hitch manages to escape from Jon’s tight grip, his posture shuddering slightly with the force of continuing the sentence. It doesn’t go unnoticed by Martin that just the word dog seems to leave him breathless. 

“A dog cafe, yeah! You’re coming too, right boss? Come see all the adorable little puppies?” Tim offers, gesturing towards the door. Apparently it didn’t go unnoticed by him either. 

An audible gasp sounds out, and all eyes turn back to the rapidly hitching boss. Jon manages to stifle the first one almost silently, only a rush of breath escaping at the end. 

“Bless you, boss.” 

Jon waves a hand, wiping away the water beginning to flood his eyes. “Was just sihh… sighing, Tim.” He finishes the statement with another stifle, this time his whole body jerks along with the rough exhale.  

“Really? Because that sounded like another sneeze,” Tim taunts, poking a finger towards Jon’s face. “And given the way your nose is twitching, you seem far from done.” 

Jon seems to consider debating, but another frantic hitch decides it for him. Giving up the ruse, he ducks into his shoulder with another, “eh’tNGxt–uh! ih’NTchhuh!”  

“Bless yo-” 

“eH’DGZSHhh –uu!”  The volume makes everyone jump, seeming to surprise even Jon. 

“Oh- mby apologies, I seeb to be… hiehh–” Jon trails off, one hand frantically searching for a tissue, nose visibly trembling behind the other. In a move of uncharacteristic pity, Tim pushes the box within reach. Jon mumbles out a thank you, before swinging his chair around for a touch of privacy. 

The silence is almost deafening, cut up only by the rustling of fabric as Jon attempts to subdue the onslaught. “eh’nGNt –oo!” And fails miserably. 

“Do- maybe do you want… well possibly we should, actually I think you might- I mean he might want–” Desperately trying to find a way to fill the space, Martin rambles on, gaze bouncing between all three of his coworkers.

“Martin,” Jon cuts him off, “just say it.” 

The annoyance Martin’s come to expect seems unaffected by the breathy quality of Jon’s words. Unless you notice the flushed nature of his ears, which… is kinda hard to miss when his nose is starting to match. 

“S-sorry! I just figured you may want a touch of uh… privacy..? You seem… itchy,” Martin offers, already beginning to back out of the room. 

Jon glares, lining up a retort before pausing as the first syllable comes out muffled with congestion. A sharp sniff and quick rub later, he continues in an easier tone. “I’m quite alright. No need for such concerns.” 

“I mean- If… if you’re sure…” 

Tim interrupts this time, draping an arm across Martin’s back. “You heard the boss, he’s fine. Now, onto that cafe?” 

Before Martin can get a word out, Jon stands from his chair, dropping the tissues in the wastebasket next to his desk. Sasha chuckles out her approval, sticking her phone into a pocket and beginning to exit the office. Tim follows suit, leaving Martin standing alone with Jon. 

There’s a beat of silence, Martin watching, horrified, as his body refuses to move an inch, silently waiting for Jon’s approval. 

“Well?” 

It’s not exactly an invitation, but it’s more than enough to send Martin scrambling for the door, muttering more sheepish apologies under his breath. If Jon heard them, he gave no indication, busy rustling through a desk drawer. A few more muffled stifles make their way through the noise, no indication given they were heard either. 

As Martin makes it into the hallway, he catches Tim waving from the door. He’s propping it open with one foot as Sasha waits outside, once again on her phone. Martin waves back his acknowledgement, before gesturing towards the kitchen. Tim simply shrugs, calling something about ‘not waiting around’, before joining Sasha in the crisp autumn air. 

Making his way back to the kitchen, Martin pauses at Jon’s door. He’s not eavesdropping, just… listening in, to see if Jon’s alright. It’s his boss after all, and he’s an assistant! He’s supposed to… assist! Perfectly natural thing to do, isn’t it? 

A harsh double pulls him from his spiralling, Jon’s voice coming through audibly in the groan that follows. Alright, enough listening in, this is starting to feel more creepy than curious. 

With what little confidence he can muster, Martin works his way through his plan. The mugs are where they always are, but the water in the kettle was a bit more cold than a proper cup of tea would allow. Flipping the switch, Martin began heating it, and hurried out of the kitchen to his desk. He picks out a fairly bland tea, Jon seems the bland type… right? 

Another few sneezes sound out from the boss’s office, and Martin almost starts to feel guilty for still being in the office. It’s obvious Jon assumes he’s alone, if not from the sneezes themselves, from the groans that come after them. Ever the stickler for a Professional Appearance, he’d never allow himself to be seen or heard in such a state willingly. 

The kettle sounding pulls Martin from his thoughts once more, and he pours the water over the tea bag. Moving carefully, as not to spill, he makes his way back to Jon’s office, knocking softly on the door. 

“Yes?” The reply is sharp, a frantic sounding shuffling occurring as Martin begins to slide open the door. 

“Hey, yeah sorry I just- you sounded like… I just thought that maybe you’d want… you might need some…” 

“Spit it out, Martin,” Jon sighs, giving his nose a subtle swipe. Unfortunately for him, this seems to have been the wrong choice. His nose twitches, eyes beginning to unfocus, and Martin finds himself pausing for the interruption. At least, until Jon gestures at him to continue. 

“Well, I just ma-” 

“ih’tNGT–uu!” 

“Bless you. I just made you some tea, it seemed you cou-” 

“hHUh’dNT–uh!” There’s a pause, Jon’s breath catching dramatically, before he swivels around in the chair and aims a harsh, “eH’dZSHH– eih’DSCHhhh–oo!” at the fistful of tissues he managed to grab. 

It wasn’t exactly quiet, and Martin finds himself flinching against the noise, but holds it together as he places the mug on Jon’s desk, hurrying through the rest of his sentence. 

“Seemed you could use some tea, bless you again by the way, anyways I’m gonna head off with Sasha and Tim, I’ll see you there I guess! Or, well- not just me, we’ll all see you there, as a group, if you choose to come that is! Which of course you don’t have to, though we’d lik-” 

“Martdin,” Jon, mercifully, cuts him off, congestion seeping through his words. With a deep sigh, he finishes his sentence. “Thagnk you. You mbay go ndow.” 

Taking the out, Martin gives one last nervous smile, sliding out into the hallway. Another desperate sneeze leaves him wincing, Jon’s vocal groan sounding out yet again. The poor guy sounds miserable, and Martin almost considers going back in and telling him not to come. If he’s this bad from just the thought… well… 

But he’s embarrassed himself enough for the day, and, albeit hesitantly, Martin heads off to meet Tim and Sasha at the cafe.

[volivolition]

part of that "raising a kid au" i was working on, this is almost definitely not how skill checks work and i don't even know if i'll include this, but for now i think it's. so funny kjkgj

[mrpenguinpants]

Hypothetical question but are we still into windbreaker (nii satoru)? Y'all cool if I put my hyper fixation on center stage?

[third--planet]

Fanon Ship children are good, very interesting to write and characterize. But what about ship pets?? What about two charecters becoming so emotionally attached to a creature that their life literally molds around it??

Cus I can't stop thinking about Ratio having a pet cat that he'd name something so goofy and serious that it's funny. Something like Theorem of Ptolemy (Theo for short) and the cat would be the most reserved girlie ever. Doesn't give a fuck about anyone, not even Ratio most if the time, and Ratio would treat her like she is a grown human, would talk to her like she is just another work colleague and she'd not even meow back at him. It's fine though, she keeps him company and after his parents the cat is the only thing he is most attached to.

Until the Annoying Gambler comes into his life Ofcourse, suddenly he has another person to care for. And just when he thinks his life is the most affected by Aventurine, the gambler comes over for whatever business stuff they are to discuss one day, and Theo suddenly has multiple Fucks to give. She'd not go near him at first, but that hasn't really stopped Aventurine, ever, so he'd try to warm up to her. And it would so backfire. Like she's now falling asleep on his lap and trapping him in one place for hours level backfire. She MUST stick to him the whole time he is over at Ratio's. Would hijack his coat but loafing up on top of it and forcing him to leave it behind.

Ratio would stand there and feel betrayed af. And he wouldn't even know who is he most jealous of, Aventurine cus that cat has never given /him/ the same amount of attention, or Theo cus he himself has never been able to shower that Gambler with that much attention. He'd grumble and would try to ignore the obvious warmth in his chest cus- two of his most favourite beings love each other???? Also soft aventurine, the real kind. Cus who wouldn't absolutely melt at a Cat.

Now, I had all of this in my mind before 2.2 so I'm only a bit salty that hoyo alr made it canon that aventurine acquires the catcakes and we all sort fo agreed that it was Ratio who gifted him those. And now my headcanons is somehow sort of canon :| but yeah, I still wanted to get this brainrot out of my head so 😋

[iknowwhereyousleepatnight]

almost january which means it's almost st sebastian's feast day which means it's almost light yagami's death day which means it's almost february which means it's almost valentine's day which means im six months behind on all of my projects

[viperwhispered]

If you're still thinking of making a playlist, feel free to add "Be Mine" by Ofenbach and "Kick up Your Heels" by Jessica Mauboy ft.Pitbull.

Context: During the early 20th century, alcohol was prohibited in the United States. This lead to uncontrolled secret distribution of alcohol and secret bars everywhere (fun fact: it was alcohol dealing that made Al Capone so powerful). The most iconic of these bars were speakeasies: secret illegal clubs that sold good alcohol while playing jazz (fun fact: these bars went a long way to pushing gender and racial equality by having everyone being able to dance & drink together).

Which brings me to this scenario: Jamil sneaking out of weekends to dance the night away and enjoy precious moments of freedom without Kalim. During these escapades, he meets the reader and the two get closer of months of several encounters. At some point they meet outside of the bar, but they pretend to be aquaintances at most. They get so into each other that they start subtly flirting even outside the bar.

Eventually we get to the moment that ecompases the songs (Be Mine is Jamil's perspective and Kick up Your Heels is the reader's). After weeks of subtle flirting, the two are finally tipsy enough to flirt more openly. Jamil goes in first and the reader playfully flirts back. They dance the night away and end up leaving together back to reader's apartment (don't worry Jamil has the weekend off and Najma owes him so she'll cover for him).

Cue adorable morning after with kisses, cuddles, Jamil making breakfeat, and the reader wearing his clothes.

(Boy if the music video for the Ofenbach song doesn’t look like it was made for total wish fulfillment for the artists, lol. Song's a total banger, tho (after listening to it a lot while working on this).)

I’m also gonna add Shut Up and Dance by Walk The Moon to the list because the vibes totally fit (and I’ve definitely thought of it in regards to Jamil before).

I do love the idea of reader meeting Jamil in an environment where he can be more free. Just, how different of an experience is it, when the dance floor is your first impression of him, rather than the Jamil at NRC or the Asim estate? When he’s actually letting go, being himself and just having a good time.

Plus like, presumably in the Scalding Sands Jamil’s job is not so 24/7 anyway, since there’s other servants around too to look after Kalim. So yay for actual free time.

And because I totally vibe with this & have thought of something similar before, I wanted to turn this into a bit of fic.

Post-NRC, Jamil x reader, written with a fem reader in mind, nsfw

The club, 22:30

You surveyed the club, your eyes insisting on looking for one person in particular, but to no avail.

No matter. Whether or not your favorite dance partner - or your acquaintance, or your crush, or whatever the hell he was to you - would turn up tonight, you could still have fun.

So, when a good song came on, you slid to the dancefloor, determined to dance the night away one way or another. You still had the whole night ahead of you, after all.

Not that you would have minded the company.

The club, 23:12

While you were queueing up for a drink, Jamil was the one who found you.

“I was wondering if you’d turn up,” you said with a grin, leaning closer to be heard over the music.

“And miss you? No way.”

You laughed and shook your head. It really was unfortunate how attractive that cocky grin was on Jamil.

“Wouldn’t have been the first night I’ve had to make do without you,” you said lightly.

“Well, tonight I can be all yours,” Jamil replied, his hand ghosting at the small of your back.

You grinned - you had to admit, you quite liked the sound of that.

The club, 23:27

Over the past few months there had been times when you caught Jamil looking at you as if he was evaluating you, measuring you. Yet, whenever he actually got close to you, that was all gone, replaced by pleasantries and barely concealed playfulness.

Today, however, there was a particular determination to him, one that had him shamelessly inching closer to you as you were talking over your drinks - as much as one could have a meaningful conversation talking over the thudding music.

“You look like you’ve got something on your mind,” you said, looking at Jamil from under your lashes while you sipped your drink.

“Well… I’ve been thinking that I wouldn’t mind sharing more than a dance with you,” Jamil said, his own drink nearly forgotten in his hands.

“Oh? What are you thinking?” you asked, stirring the remains of your drink with your straw, trying to affect a casual air despite your curiosity.

Jamil got close enough that you thought you could feel his breath on your skin.

“That I want to get to know you much better,” Jamil replied, an unmistakable sultry undercurrent to his tone. His hand had found its way to your arm, tracing light patterns on your skin.

Your eyes widened, a surprised laugh bubbling to your lips. My, what had gotten Jamil so bold tonight?

“Oh, and here I was just looking forward to some dancing,” you said with a playful grin.

Jamil might have gotten your heart to flutter, an unmistakable heat rising to your cheeks, but that didn’t mean you’d be that easily charmed.

“Just be prepared that once I get hold of you, I might not let go,” he said, lightly squeezing your arm.

“Dance with me, and then we’ll see,” you said with an amused shake of your head.

“Let’s start the show, then.”

With a laugh you grabbed Jamil’s hand, dragging him to the dancefloor, the beating of your heart rivaling the thud of the music.

There was such confidence to him, like Jamil had already ensured he’d get what he wanted and was just biding his time.

And you had to admit, you kinda liked it.

The club, 23:51

The song was one of your favorites and you couldn’t help singing along, moving your body to the beat. People were trickling in, but there was still space for both you and Jamil to let loose.

It was its own kind of delight, seeing how well you two could synchronize your movements. Stepping back and forth, circling each other, claiming a part of the dance floor all to yourselves. You grinned, watching the way Jamil leaned to the side, shrugging his shoulder, and you copied the move to the other direction, adding your own flourish with the snap of your hips.

After a few repeats there was a stutter in the music and you leaned forward, Jamil coming in to meet you, chest to chest. You lingered there for the briefest moment, your eye meeting, noses nearly brushing, before you pulled back and threw your hands up in the air for the chorus. You sang out the lyrics, let your body move as it wished, full-heartedly just enjoying yourself - and your company.

Sure, there was a part of you curious to find out just what Jamil could offer. But you’d come out here to have fun, and have fun you would.

Whatever would come later, would come later.

The club, 01:25

You were sweaty, your feet sore, your hair undoubtedly a mess at this point. Yet, you couldn’t stop smiling, couldn’t stop relishing your time with Jamil.

Jamil’s hands were on your hips, following your movements, his chest flush to your back.

You had to admit, you loved the feeling of his body against yours, the way you swayed together. 

You also delighted in teasing him like this, feeling the hardness of his arousal when you ground your ass on him.

“I want you to be mine,” Jamil mouthed the lyrics of the song, his breath hot by your ear.

He brushed his lips by your skin, something akin to a kiss, and you could feel the warmth of it shoot straight to your core.

Idly, you wondered if Jamil would be able to hear your soft groan over the music as you leaned back, your hand fumbling in his hair to pull him even closer. That seemed to be all the encouragement he needed, his mouth now more insistent on the corner of your jaw.

At this point, it was getting harder and harder to remember all the other people around you, your decency slipping from your hands.

Oh, you had a good enough idea of how Jamil’s body fit against you, how it felt under your hands.

But it was not enough.

You wanted to see Jamil, every bit that was hidden under those clothes, wanted to pull his hair loose - or just pull it in general. Wanted to see how he’d look beneath you, above you, between your legs…

Just the thought of Jamil unraveling with you had warmth pooling in the pit of your stomach.

And the thought of his touch on you, unobstructed…

He really was such a temptation, one that you might not even want to resist at this point.

Your apartment, 01:44

You were not prepared for the hungry way Jamil devoured your lips, how firmly his hands pulled you flush against him.

Or the way he groaned into your mouth, the sound shooting straight to your core.

Oh, you needed more of that. Much more of that.

Your hands shot up, gripping onto him tightly, just as unwilling to let him go. You sought out that hair tie that had been taunting you all evening, your tongue sloppily meeting Jamil’s as you pressed yourself as close to him as you possibly could.

There were so many places you wanted to touch, so many spots you wanted to unveil, your hands racing all over Jamil in a desperate attempt to fulfill all your desires at once.

Jamil’s lips were so wonderfully kiss-swollen, his hair hanging loose and his shirt halfway off him. If you hadn’t been so eager for more, you would’ve stopped to admire the sight and commit it to memory.

Instead, your greedy hands slipped under his top, relishing in the skin to skin contact while Jamil was busy with getting you to a similar state of undress, his eyes burning as his lips descended upon you again, stealing your breath away.

Your apartment, 2:20

You rolled your hips, slowly, your palms resting on Jamil’s chest. He did indeed look absolutely ravishing beneath you, his tongue slightly sticking out through his parted lips, his gorgeous hair spilled over your pillows. Jamil’s hands on your ass were helping you move, urging you to take his cock even deeper.

You’d yield to him soon enough, but first you wanted to savor this. The hungry look Jamil bestowed upon you, the needy way his hands kept on mapping your body, the way his hips bucked beneath you.

At this point, simply calling Jamil your favorite dance partner certainly didn’t do him justice.

No, you’d love to have so much more of him, wanted to find out just how far you two could go.

You leaned down, your lips meeting once again. You braced your arms against the bed as you began to move in earnest. Your efforts were rewarded by Jamil’s needy groan, the way his grip tightened on you. He seemed to be just as drunk on you as you were on him, and just that fact was enough to make your head spin.

Your apartment, 9:40

It was a slow realization, remembering that you had company over, only to find the other side of your bed empty. However, as your senses slowly roused, you soon caught the sounds and smells coming from the kitchen.

Of course he had to be perfect enough to even cook for you, you mused with some amusement.

With a stretch you willed yourself to leave the comfort of your bed, freshening yourself up quickly before padding your way to the kitchen.

You kind of hoped you’d been the one to wake up first. At least you could’ve cleared some of the mess.

It was such a domestic sight, Jamil busying himself at your stove, and you unexpectedly felt your throat tighten with the impact of it.

“I’m amazed you found something to work with,” you said, your words somewhere between apologetic and joking.

“It’s not how I’d keep my own kitchen, but it’s workable,” Jamil said matter-of-factly.

You couldn’t help a snort. What a way to sugarcoat your messy counters and sparse cupboards.

“Well. I’m glad it didn’t drive you off, at least,” you said with dry amusement.

You walked past Jamil to the sink, letting your fingers trace along his back and upper arm as you passed him by, conscious of not bothering his work.

Jamil, however, grabbed you by the waist and pulled you close, making you yelp in surprise.

“Good morning,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple.

All you could do was melt against him.

Bonus scene which didn’t really seem to fit the flow but I had to do something with these lyrics, too. A flashback to another night, maybe?

Jamil certainly knew how to move. Yet, there was still something carefully controlled about him.

You’d seen him, sometimes, when the night was late, how he really could let go and get swept up in the music.

Then again, you supposed you still hadn’t quite warmed up yourself, hadn’t forgotten about the way his eyes were on you.

Would another drink be a terrible idea?

Still, seeing the way Jamil was looking around, checking the crowds, made you frown. You tugged on his hand, turning his attention back on you.

"Oh, don't you dare look back. Just keep your eyes on me."

“You’re holding back, yourself,” Jamil said with a knowing look.

“Shut up and dance with me,” you said, smiling even as you rolled your eyes. 

Ngl, I’ve not done much song fics and it was fun weaving in bits of the lyrics and vibes in here - even if I chose to be a silly goose and use 3 songs at once.

Tag list: @colliope @crystallizsch @diodellet @jamilsimpno69 @jamilvapologist

@perilous-pasta @twstgo

Do let me know if you'd like to be tagged for my future works!

[cipher-legal-and-ethics-dept]

The funny thing with having a lengthy (approaching 70 pages, oof) worldbuilding document detailing various lore tidbits as well as my own ideas, headcanons and fic outlines is that its contents range from

"the Verich Clan has been engaging in a generations-long conspiracy involving the exploitation of pretty much the entire Orre region for money and power" and "Es Cade was a real person who has been dead for several years, possibly killed by Cipher, and Evice stole his entire identity and has been essentially wearing a dead man's face ever since"

to

"Naps is a shitposter" and "Snattle used to be a drag performer with the stage name Molly Muffin"

[authorafterhours]

I can see Will and Hannibal inspiring a murder ballad or two after the fall. The POV could be different depending on what version of the story people wanna believe. Would it speak of Hannibal as a corrupting devil, and Will the victim? Or would it be a tale of two monsters who are human enough to love each to the point of obsession, who you're never quite sure died but still haunt society's heart? Something else, somewhere in between? In the end, the truth is what you believe late at night, when lost among the crooning of the lyrics, a twig is heard snapping or footsteps are falling. It's too far away to pinpoint where it is, but not far away enough for comfort.

[heartmaddie]

i have so many thoughts for so many different fics maybe that's my problem

[sidehowriting]

The feminine urge to write a fic for Gideon Gemstone.

[rhainontheshelves]

Remember, Recover

Member: Bang Chan {Stray Kids} and afab!reader

Genre: Fluff, Angst, light smut description

Word Count: 4238

A/N: This is the complete version of a fic I posted back in 2019! Rip It finally passed my writer's uncertainty test so out it goes. Happy reading!- Rhin

     “... How long are you going to stay on my lap?”

     “However long it takes to finish this melody. Deal with it.” I said, plunking out a string of notes on the keyboard. Figuring out a concrete sheet of music was difficult when all I had was some sound clips Chan had come up with years ago. But, nevertheless, I managed to connect them and came up with a pretty good composition. I saved the file with a little “Yay!” and leaned back. 

     Chan groaned as my weight shifted further back on his legs. “Damn (Y/N), how many cheeseburgers did you eat today?”

     “Not as many as you. How many did you order, four?” I smirked.

     “It was only three, excuse me! And they were singles, you can’t blame me for cheating the system and getting three singles for less than a triple.”

     “Only because we’re broke and ordering off the dollar menu,” I said, twisting around to face him, “and two medium fries! Who are you, an unhealthy version of Gaston?”

     “Hey, don’t compare me to that jerk!” Chan tried hard to keep a straight offended face. “And I’m very healthy, thank you very much.”

     A couple moments of silence was enough to break my mask and burst out laughing. Chan’s face was too good not to. He chuckled along with me and stroked my hair as I leaned into his chest, trying to pull myself together. 

     “Wow, I’m tired,” I said, wiping tears from my eyes. “What time is it?”

     Chan glanced over to the computer. “Midnight on the dot.”

     “We have officially spent five hours in this dumb room.” I got up and grabbed a Pepsi from the minifridge. “Want one?”

     All Chan had to do was hold a hand out for me to toss one to him. Together, we unscrewed the lids and took huge swigs. We were in for a long night, so we needed all the energy we could get. 

     “Let’s take a break.” Chan said, rolling over to the couch and propping his feet up. “My brain is tired from trying to pull feelings and experiences from years ago up for lyrics.”

     I flopped on the couch, thinking of a way I could help out. To be honest, I hadn’t done anything of that nature since I graduated, and that was just about a year ago. The memory was pretty hazy (it was a black-out type of night), so that wouldn’t help out a lot.

     “(Y/N), do you trust me?” Chan asked out of the blue. 

     “What is that supposed to mean?”

     “Well, if this song is truly about sex, wouldn’t we need some moans in the background or something? The good ol’ bed creaks are getting a bit overused in this industry.”

     It took me a minute to process what Chan meant. “Wait… you want me to-”

     “No! Not if you don’t want to,” Chan’s cheeks turned red, “we can always pull audio from porn or something!”

     I looked at my best friend, sighed, and shook my head. “You’re lucky we need to get this track done by tomorrow afternoon,” I got up, turned off the lights, and went into the booth. 

     “Why did you-”

     “So I can still have some dignity by the end of the night,” I said into the microphone. “Can we just get a series and cut it into the song? It’s too tedious to do stuff at exact moments.”

     “That’s fine by me.” Chan affirmed. “Just say so when you’re done.”

     I awkwardly stood in the booth for a bit, trying to figure out the logistics of this. The microphone that was hooked up wasn’t omnidirectional, so getting into the right position for the audio to be captured was a big problem. Also the fact that Chan was here made me extremely nervous. I didn’t know why; we could usually talk for hours about this stuff. Maybe it was because it was for real instead of the usual imaginary scenarios. 

     Pulling up a chair, I sat down in it and carefully reached out toward the mic stand. I found the knob that adjusted the height and brought it down to its lowest position. Then, making myself as comfortable as I could be, I unbuttoned my jeans and slid a hand down. 

     “Any time now, (Y/N).” Chan’s voice boomed. The sudden fracture in the silence scared me and made me lose my start. 

     “Damn it Chan, I was just getting warmed up,” I muttered. “Just starting to get focused.”

     “Oh, sorry.” His voice sounded tiny over the speaker system. 

     “You’re good, just don’t do that again, okay?”

     “Got it.” With that, the static of an open line cut off, leaving me back at square one. 

     I sat there for a bit, trying to bring up a picture in my head that I could jack off to. Nothing in particular was coming to mind, except feeling something hard as I sat on Chan’s lap just a couple minutes ago. I zoned in on that feeling, and started to find something I could associate it with… and then my brain betrayed me. 

     “Hey Chan… do you remember that party we went to a couple years back? You needed to blow off some steam from being cooped up with the guys too long and I needed some relief from college?”

     Static started buzzing again. “Yeah, I remember that. It was a fun night.”

     “I don’t know any other way to say this, but… I can’t get this image of you out of my head… I think we did something that night.”

     “I wouldn’t be surprised if we did. We were pretty drunk.”

     “No, you don’t understand. All I can remember after the sixth shot of whiskey is undoing someone’s belt while they marked me up. Their shirt was red, like that one button-up you have that I like so much.”

     “Oh… that… yeah, that was me.”

     “You remember?” Honestly, I was shocked. I was certain that Chan got even drunker than I did.

     “Yeah, every second. I wasn’t as drunk as you then.”

     “Well, tell me about it then, since I obviously don’t remember.”

     “Um, okay.” There was some hesitation there. I knew Chan well enough to know that this was important to him for some reason; he would have told me about it sooner if it wasn’t.

     “Hey, it’s okay Chan.” I soothed him. “It won’t mess up our friendship.”

     “Are you sure?” his voice was shaky. 

     “I’m absolutely positive.”

     “Well, it started when you pulled me away from the dance floor. Apparently I was grinding on some girl you didn’t like. I could tell you were getting faded, so I didn’t take it too seriously. As you were ranting about it, you started to say peculiar things. Like, “you have no right to look that fine” and “if you had another button undone and your sleeves already rolled up when you picked me up we would have never left the house”, things like that. Obviously I had turned you on and drunk (Y/N) gets really bold and horny. I don’t really remember what you said next, but I couldn’t stop myself from kissing you.”

     I was starting to remember, recalling the atmosphere and how Chan looked that night. That was one of the top times where I just wanted to hop on his dick and ride the night away. I wasn’t proud of it, but it happened. 

     “You backed me up against a wall and started unbuttoning my shirt. I realized where we were going at that point and quickly picked you up and headed towards the nearest room so we could have some privacy. Luckily it was a bedroom and the door was able to be locked. You started working on my belt and I gave you two hickeys on your shoulder. Once that belt was gone, you started undressing and I lost it. Lust just burned through me and you seemed pleased that you brought it on.”

     Chan was slightly caught off guard as whimpers came through the other end of the mic. (Y/N) must be remembering and getting off on that. He couldn’t deny that his mind was roaming back to then as well. 

     “Chan, don’t stop talking. I want to remember everything.” (Y/N) whined.

     Chan could feel the lust creeping up again. It made him cocky; it made him want to hear what (Y/N) had to offer. “Everything?”

     “Everything.”

     “I picked you up and threw you on the bed, trapping you under my body. You pulled me down for another kiss, but I was already there. As we made out, my hands traveled around, We pulled apart for air and I swear you looked like an angel, all out on display for me. You begged for me to do something, anything… so I got on my knees and pulled you forward until I could devour you properly.”

     Chan described the rest of the encounter in graphic detail, and that was more than enough to help me out. By the end of it, I had cummed twice and moaned up a storm. I was confident that I had recorded good material. 

     “Alright, that’s a wrap.” I stated as I buttoned up my jeans. 

     Chan didn’t answer. 

     “Chan?” I called as I exited the room. 

     He wasn’t at the soundboard. The door was wide open though. 

     “Chris?” I called again, sticking my head out of the door.

     No one was there to hear me. 

     Concerned, I picked my phone off of the coffee table and there was a notification for a text - from Chan. 

     Went out to grab some food. I’ll be back soon

     I ended up spending the rest of the night in the studio- without Chan. I cut the audio and put it into the backtrack as best I could. I told myself that he would come back and rearrange it the way he wanted it to be, but around 4:30 AM I started to doubt that. I recorded my parts that were marked on the lyric sheet, but soon I was so exhausted that my voice didn’t sound like mine anymore. The smell I left behind made me so nauseous that I sprayed what seemed like half a can of air freshener all around the studio before crashing on the couch. 

     “... (Y/N)! (Y/N), wake up!” A voice called as they shook my shoulder. 

     “Huh?” My eyes finally registered the light and I put my arm over them. “What time is it?”

     “It is currently 9:30. Where’d Chan go?”

     With that comment, my eyes flew open and I got a good look at who awakened me. It was Jisung, another one of the Stray Kids members I had gotten close with. If Jisung was here… then Chan never came back.

     “He left.” I said bluntly as I sat up and rubbed the sleepiness out of my eyes. 

     “What?” 

     “He left. He went to get food and never came back.”

     “Shit.” Jisung breathed. He whipped out his phone and called someone, presumably another member. “Hey Changbin, did Chan ever come back last night? No? Well, (Y/N) doesn’t know where he is either. Yep- yeah. I will. See ya.” With that, he hung up and ran his fingers through his hair. 

     “He’ll turn up.” I tried to comfort him. “At least you all don’t have anywhere to be today.”

     “I guess.” Jisung sounded really bummed and concerned. “He never does this, not without contacting one of us first.”

     I let Jisung think for a minute before standing up and stretching. “Well, if you’ll excuse me, I need to run home and shower and change. Being in here for 11 hours isn’t too good on the hygiene.”

     “When will you get back?”

     “About 30, 45 minutes? Somewhere around there.”

     “Good, because I still need to think about whether I should help you finish this track or not. Judging by those lyrics…” he nodded toward the sheet of paper and grinned, “I don’t think I should be.”

     I turned a dark shade of red before darting out the door. I was too embarrassed about last night to stay in the studio one second longer. God forbid I was there when Jisung listened to what I had so far. I mean, I trusted him, but having him hear bare audio of me moaning was pushing the bar a little bit more than a lot. When effects and vocals and the other layers of the backing was put on over it, I wouldn’t have a problem with people listening, but in the raw form it was in now, it was too intimate.

     As I walked back to my apartment, I mulled over why Chan had left. I wanted to believe that it was for some normal reason, like he was feeling too uncomfortable to stay or he actually went to grab food, but something had distracted him. Maybe he was sleeping at the dorms and nobody had noticed yet, or he was back at my place sleeping. Maybe it was nothing to worry about and he would be back and fixing all of my mistakes when I got back to the studio. But, deep in my heart, I knew it was way more complicated than that. 

     The project was put on hold indefinitely until Chan could be found. I looked everywhere with the rest of Stray Kids, checking his most frequented places and even calling one of his relatives that lived in the area. Any place I recalled him liking, I went and searched every nook and cranny.  

     “Yeah, no luck on my end either,” I told Minho on the phone. “He’s dropped off the face of the planet.”

     “Damn! He couldn’t have gone far.” Minho growled. 

     “We should probably stop looking for him.” Jeongin’s voice came through. “It’s Chan. He’s not stupid. He’ll be back before we know it.” 

     I sighed, not wanting to admit that the youngest was right. “I’m still worried about him.”

     “Worrying won’t do us any good at this point. I agree with Jeongin.”

     “Okay. Make sure the others know. I’ll give you any updates if I have any.” With that, I was left alone with my thoughts.

     I wandered around the part of town I had ended up in. Ever since my brain had fully woken up, I had been replaying last night over and over, trying to pick out the point where Chan had dropped out. The frustrating part was, I had absolutely no clue. I had gotten so lost in myself that I had blocked Chan out. Now that we couldn’t find him, I felt extremely guilty. I found a bench to sit on and wait through the wave of fresh emotions. How could I have been so insensitive to his feelings about the situation? I should have sensed them sooner. 

     A cold drop of liquid on the back of my neck brought me into reality again. I watched the pavement turn darker as it started to sprinkle. Watching the rain... wait. 

     I was reminded of a very obscure memory. Chan and I had only known each other for a couple months. We had to meet up to finish a group project for school, and if I remembered right, we had met up in the park behind me. We were a paragraph out from finishing when it started to rain just like this. In a rush to protect our work, Chan pulled me to the cafe across the street. Had he? I couldn’t clearly recall. 

     Shielding my face from the rain, I wandered across the street, looking for a cafe. The other businesses looked so dry and inviting, but I couldn’t stop until I found what I was looking for. 

     Finally, I found a cafe a few blocks over from where I thought it was. By this point I was absolutely soaked, but I didn’t care. The thought of finally finding Chan was giving me a small adrenaline rush. 

     A little tinkling bell greeted me as I walked into the warm cafe. The smell of fresh pastries and coffee made my stomach growl. I had been so preoccupied with the search that I hadn’t eaten all day. 

      “Hello!” A kind voice called from the counter. 

      “Hello!” I responded. Walking up, I started scanning the menu. Now that we had called the search off, it wouldn’t hurt to take a break, right?

     “It’s certainly coming down out there, isn’t it?” the barista asked with a hint of amusement in her voice. 

     “Yes, ma’am. I must be a sight for sore eyes.”

     “You do look a little frazzled. Not the worst I’ve seen these past couple of days, though.”

     “Oh, really?”

     “Yeah. A guy came in late last night totally drunk. My manager took pity on him and got him a hotel room.”

     My breath hitched. “Did he happen to have curly brown hair? A little taller than me, muscular?”

     The barista raised an eyebrow. “Do you know him?”

     “I’m looking for him, actually. If you could tell me which hotel he’s at, I would really appreciate it.”

     “Lemme call my manager real quick.” the barista disappeared into the kitchen for a couple of minutes, then returned with a piece of paper. “Here’s the address and room number. The room’s paid for, so don’t worry about that.” 

     I took the paper from her. “Thank you so much! We’ve been worried about him.”

     “I’m glad someone cares. He was rambling on about letting someone important down. It was really sad.”

     That really concerned me. I had never known Chan to be a talkative or a sad drunk, nevermind the fact that he was drunk in the first place. Whatever he was battling, he really wanted to get away from it. “I would like to order some food and coffee to go. I imagine he’ll be hungry, and to be honest I am as well.”

     The barista’s eyes lit up. “Sure! What would you like?”

     Twenty five minutes later, I approached a local hotel with warm soup and coffee. The rain had stopped, but dark clouds still hung in the sky. It struck me just how late it had become; my phone informed me that it was nearing a quarter past five. The sun would go down soon. 

     The desk attendant looked up at me expectantly as I entered. “Hi, I’m here to visit the person in room 24?” 

     “Okay. You can go on up.” they went back to writing in the notebook they had.

     The layout of this small hotel was confusing, but eventually I found my way up to the second floor and found room 24. I cautiously knocked on the door, listening for any kind of response from the other side. Hearing nothing, I knocked again and said, “I brought some food for you.”

     A faint voice called back, “The door’s unlocked.”

     I sighed in relief, thankful that my best friend was alive and talking. Hauling the food into one arm for a moment, I turned the knob and poked my head into the room.

     It was a cozy little suite. One queen-sized bed, with the typical white duvet. An armchair in vaguely matching upholstery was placed near the window, alongside a circular coffee table. A door suggested either an attached bathroom or a closet. However, the main feature of the room was in bed, looking very sleepy and surprised to see me at his door. 

     “Hey Chris. I have soup and coffee, if you have the stomach for it. I don’t know how long it’s been since you’ve eaten…” I entered and placed the food on the coffee table. 

     The man’s expression was hard to read. There was confusion, like he was wondering how I found him, but there was also apprehension and guilt. The way he curled into himself as I sat next to him on the bed didn’t escape my attention. “Me and the boys looked all day for you. I’m so glad you’re safe.”

     Chan fiddled with his hands, avoiding eye contact.

     “Listen… I’m sorry about last night. It was selfish of me. I understand if we just don’t talk about it again.” 

     Chan’s silence was making me increasingly anxious. Normally, I would have thrown myself at him by now, begging for forgiveness or even a glance in my direction. But this was serious. The possibility of this ruining our friendship was suffocating me to the point of mirroring Chan’s attitude. “If you want me to leave, I can. This must have been emotional for you, I don’t want to make it worse.”

     At that, Chan reached his hand out, placing it in the space between us. LIke he didn’t want me to leave. Like he was telling me to stay. 

     I placed my hand over his, slowly curling my fingers until I was holding his hand. I didn’t dare ask any questions; he needed to work through this for himself. He would talk when he was ready. To distract myself, I looked out the window and watched the sunset through the buildings. 

     Chan buried his face in the crook of my neck. I could feel the remnants of tears on his cheeks and smell the day-old beer on his breath. My free hand slowly came up to run through his unkempt, curly locks in attempts to comfort him. If all he needed was to sit here for the rest of eternity, I would surely do it. 

     “I got hammered after.” Chan said low and rough and soft, like he hadn’t spoken for days and cried instead. 

     “...after?”

     “After we fucked at the party. I don’t know why it suddenly crashed over me, but I couldn’t deal with the fact that I felt like I betrayed and used you. I remember downing three of the highest concentrated beers they had in a row before passing out on the couch.”

     That explained why Chan was so much more hungover than I was. It also explained why he had distanced himself from me- then and now. In the days afterward, I had felt so confused and angry at myself because Chan avoided me at all costs. He wouldn’t answer my texts, he wouldn’t even look at me whenever we bumped into each other. I had to call Changbin to find out an inkling of the reason and proceeded to send a huge apology letter to Chan. Of course, Chan being Chan, he said “No, I should be the one apologizing.” and went back to being my best friend. Now, I realized that I made Chan go through that all over again and I felt extremely guilty. 

     “Chan, I’m so sorry for doing that to you. I was drunk and stupid and-”

     “You were just voicing something you had kept for a long time.” Chan’s soft voice brought my excitement down again. “I used you to satisfy my own needs.”

     “No!” I shook my head vigorously. “No, that’s not it. I know you, Chan. If there wasn’t a desire there, you would have carried me out of there and dropped me at home. There’s something else. Chan, do you- do you like me?”

     There. I had said it. The one question that had been on both of our minds pretty much since the time we met. There were green flags everywhere, and we were forcing ourselves to be oblivious to them out of fear. Our friends would constantly point them out, but we were scared that we would lose each other if we asked. That line we so clearly drew, and I just crossed it. 

     His answer was so quiet, I almost missed it. “Yes. Yes, I do.”

    “Good, because I like you too.”

     The relief that washed over Chan’s face was so freeing. He looked me in the eyes for the first time in what seemed like forever, and his eyes were shining brighter than the moon. Even as I leaned in to kiss him, a huge burden was lifted off my shoulders. 

     His lips were a bit chapped, but that was fine with me. Each kiss held a gentleness and a purpose that overrode any uncomfortable feelings. Chan latched his strong arms around me, pulling me closer to him. I smiled and brought my hand up to guide our motions in order to adjust to the closer proximity, but he grabbed my hand and brought it back down, intertwining our fingers. 

     When we stopped to catch our breaths, I was grinning from ear to ear, glad that this conflict was finally over. Glad that we could be happy again. 

Epilogue

     “Are you ever going to finish this, hyung? Didn’t you make a deal with the company over it?” Jisung picked up a piece of paper from off of the table where Chan had dumped out his lyrics portfolio. Half of them weren’t finished, but that was the best place to start when it was time to start working on a new album. 

     Chan furrowed his eyebrows. “Finish what?” 

     “The song you were pulling an all-nighter to make with (Y/N) a couple months ago.”     Realization dawned on Chan, making him sink into his chair. They never finished the fucking song. 

     “I gotta say, you were on some shit when you started writing this-”

     Chan snatched the paper out of the rapper’s hand. “It’s none of your business,” he muttered, turning back to his laptop to hide his embarrassment.

[kissingarthurclaus]

Ugghh GOD I'm talking about some lore stuff with my bff about Brea and Kepler and man...I forget how good it feels to talk about star wars stuff 🥺🥺🥺

[cyeayt]

whats ur tim headcanons :)

oooh i have so many i can sort them into appearance, character arc, and sillies, a lot of these are lifted from fics i like fyi,,, ty so much for the ask, this is very rambly lol

i tend to think of Tim as Malay mostly because of Head in the Lion's Mouth and renwhit's other works with the stoker bros which rewrote my brain although in my mind he has short hair instead of long like he has in those series. i also have fallen to the fanon of him wearing colorful button ups but i don't really like him in aloha shirts just cause i think he has better taste than that, i also think he has his ears pierced and i am not immune to the idea that he wears a shark tooth necklace he got from Danny. I do also think that he had his hair shorter and dyed purple on the ends in season 1 that he then stopped taking care of in season 2 so it was washed out green and all messy by season 3, by which time i also think his fashion had deteriorated and to me he was at the unknowing in the rattiest hoodie imaginable and jeans he had been wearing for at least 4 days. he can have a graphic tee as a treat but he was def greasy.

in terms of his character i have a lot of stuff that i think are headcanons that are actually just canon (like that he knew something was up with sasha before not-sasha was revealed or that he felt comfortable in research before getting drawn back into the horror) because i have a really shitty memory but heres some stuff im pretty sure isn't plain stated in the text: he and Jon bonded in research and were very close before Jon became the archivist, and part of how they bonded was that they were both overworking themselves looking for their answers and also they're really good at breaking into places together. i am also a sucker for the idea that jon and him were involved or dancing around something but had to break it off when jon got promoted. speaking of hcs with high angst potential, i also think a lot about subtle rituals of intimacy between him and sasha and the small ways in which he would have noticed that there was something off with her. i also see him as being estranged from his parents/ them suspecting him of having something to do with Danny's death, which is not helped by the box of photos n such i think he keeps hidden in his closet/under his bed. in terms of his mentality Tim is really relatable to me i think he really struggles to be trusted in meaningful ways and that Jon suspecting him of murdering Gertrude brought back a lot of bad memories of police and his parents thinking he killed Danny. he gets stuck into patterns of though and mindsets esp when hes depressed and has trouble thinking of things in different terms in s3. also he did nothing wrong but thats neither here nor there

sillies! hcs that have little support but i think are funny, shipping stuff, and like whatever.

It's not really supported by canon unless you think he was playing 4d chess with Basira in s2 but in my mind Daisy and Basira were the ones investigating Danny's disappearance and they have a bad history. i like to put this one in my aus/ give him and daisy and basira a weird antagonistic relationship whenever i can because i think its funny when people are bitter with each other.

while i do agree that Tim would enjoy outdoorsy stuff like rockclimbing or kayaking, i don't think he's that good at it. i def see him as like the nerdier brother and think that he got into stuff that he and Danny did together, but it would be like Danny trying to convince him to go on the black diamond while Tim zigzags his way down a blue square. idk what the rock climbing equivalent of that is but i do know that tim cannot do bouldering.

i also see tim as being aro-spec like demi-romantic bisexual or somewhere in there idk im aflux aroflux its all soup to me but he and sasha are queerplatonic to me. also don't @ me i think he at the very least flirted with elias a few times either pre-archives for funzies or at some point in s2-3 when he stopped giving a shit.

hcs are so fun bc they're like little outfits you can put your character in like not every fic i write will have all of these and some of my more minute ones contradic each other but they're like ships to me anywayyy

[lostsowly]

Wind breaker week in two weeks and I've only managed to write about one and a half fics and proofread and edited none 💀

Might not be able to make it in time lol