#no but like ask me about my jontim hcs | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

karliahs · 3 years

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hello! this is over 500 words, i hope you don't mind. i just like this whole part so much i couldn't cut it XD if it is a bother just cut from the end until it's 500. love you!

Tim had always noticed people, collected little details about them in his head whether he intended to or not, but he thinks his observations used to be about happier things, though it’s hard to remember exactly how he was, how he felt, before - it wasn’t the kind of thing he ever tried to memorise, the kind of thing he ever thought he could lose. Now he finds himself taking note of the coworker who comes back from their lunch break with faint puffy red marks around their eyes, or the older guy who checks his phone with something like dread in his eyes. Danny would have called it his older brother instincts (but what good did those instincts do him? ).

Tim blinks back to the present, realising he’s been pushing a napkin over the same spot of floor for a while now. Jon offers him a hand up, though he braces himself on the bar with his other hand before he does. Tim takes care not to let Jon take too much of his weight as he’s hauled back up.

“Ah, thank you. And apologies, again,” Jon murmurs, gesturing awkwardly at Tim’s lightly-beered clothes.

“Happens to everyone,” Tim says easily. Jon still looks lightly anguished, and Tim silently wishes this could have happened to someone else, someone with the confidence to laugh it off. “I’m always convinced I’m going to drop something when I go in the silent study bit of the library,” Tim offers.

“Ah...that worry hadn’t actually occurred to me,” Jon replies, solemn enough that Tim can’t really tell if he’s joking.

Tim finger-guns. “Any other anxieties I can stir up while you’re over here?”

“I’m quite capable of stoking my own neuroses, thank you.”

Jon glances over his shoulder at the tables the rest of the department are occupying, perhaps doing the same thing as Tim and trying to psyche himself up for some more hollow smalltalk. Tim notes that his jacket seems slightly large on him, but in a way that kind of works. The collar of his shirt is slightly out of place beneath it. There’s a lump forming in Tim’s throat, even though nothing is happening - nothing but standing close to someone, noticing the little signs that they’re real and alive entirely independent from him. He’s aware, as he always is, of the hollow pit in his stomach, pain ebbing and flowing but never gone, new flares thrown off from a familiar wound, now pulsing with a kind of loneliness. All this, just from standing close to someone and trying to make them feel better about a mistake that didn’t matter.

“I...might go out for a smoke,” Jon murmurs eventually.

And here’s where Tim could say sure, wave him off and go back to moping, buy everyone an obligatory round, flex his meaningless chat muscles and be home by half 9. “Mind if I join you?” he asks instead, and to his surprise Jon nods immediately, as if he’d been hoping Tim would say that.

They duck outside to find dark clouds have given way to an anticlimactic drizzle. They stay close to the pub, shielded from the rain by the slight overhang of the roof. Jon fumbles with a lighter and Tim finds his gaze drifting over the rain-slick streets. It’s been a while since he’s been...anywhere, really, other than work and his flat. Longer than he can remember since he was outside in the never-quite-dark of the city.

Despite himself, Tim finds himself admiring the buildings across the way, modern painted shop-fronts on the ground floor giving way to weathered brick and occasional stone carvings above. It was the first thing he’d loved about London, how you only had to look up to catch a glimpse of its history, and it almost wounds him all over again, that that love isn’t gone too. It would be easier if he was just one thing, all the way lost. It would be easier if he didn’t still love the world that killed Danny.

Jon lights his cigarette, and silently holds the lighter out to Tim. Tim shakes his head, and Jon doesn’t question him about why he’s come out here if he doesn’t smoke. Doesn’t press about the way Tim must be looking; he knows he’s never had much of a poker face. Danny tried to teach him poker, on a visit home from uni; Tim left for six weeks and came back to playing cards and strategy guides everywhere - his brother, who never sit still even in his own head -

“Where were you, before this?” Jon asks. Tim wouldn’t have pegged him for a smoker, but he looks immediately more relaxed with a cigarette in his hands. Nice hands, too. It would be easier, if he didn’t-

“Publishing,” Tim answers, before he can drift again. He wants to say more, to make sure this undemanding presence isn’t going to leave his side, but his throat is still tight. “You?”

Jon frowns, as if debating something to himself, then gives a tiny rueful smile. “Tesco.”

Tim grins. “Was it a haunted Tesco?”

“Only by customers,” Jon replies, dry as bone.

from: please leave a light on when you go

HELLO, this is 1000 years late and for that i apologise!! i absolutely do not mind that it is over 500 words. tbh i'd do these for whole fics if enough people were interested!

Tim had always noticed people, collected little details about them in his head whether he intended to or not, but he thinks his observations used to be about happier things, though it’s hard to remember exactly how he was, how he felt, before - it wasn’t the kind of thing he ever tried to memorise, the kind of thing he ever thought he could lose. Now he finds himself taking note of the coworker who comes back from their lunch break with faint puffy red marks around their eyes, or the older guy who checks his phone with something like dread in his eyes. Danny would have called it his older brother instincts (but what good did those instincts do him? ).

i think i've talked about my tim just genuinely loving people in general feelings in another one of these answers, but it continues to be true. makes sense to be for a character demonstrated to be both smart and gregarious. i also wanted to muse on how formative traumatic events both change us and don't - tim still cares about the people around him, but now he's unconciously looking for pain

i am not immune to older brother tim feelings...i am especially not immune to them being directed at jon...

Tim blinks back to the present, realising he’s been pushing a napkin over the same spot of floor for a while now. Jon offers him a hand up, though he braces himself on the bar with his other hand before he does. Tim takes care not to let Jon take too much of his weight as he’s hauled back up.

part of the reason pre-series jontim is so fun is thinking about what would draw these two together. one answer is that i imagine jon as someone who would want/need a particular kind of consideration from those he's friends with, and i imagine tim as someone who's very good about noticing what people need and working around it without it being a huge thing

i was surprised that dyspraxic jon is not already a tag! or even just 'dyspraxia' does not seem to be a tag. i've read a lot of good fic involving various mobility issues for jon and this is a hc that i think makes sense (and that i hope i portrayed sensitively)

apparently the only tims i write are just regularly dissociating. i have no justification for this except that grief is really good at displacing you from time and also it's a convenient narrative device for dipping in and out of internal monologue

“Ah, thank you. And apologies, again,” Jon murmurs, gesturing awkwardly at Tim’s lightly-beered clothes.

��Happens to everyone,” Tim says easily. Jon still looks lightly anguished, and Tim silently wishes this could have happened to someone else, someone with the confidence to laugh it off. “I’m always convinced I’m going to drop something when I go in the silent study bit of the library,” Tim offers.

“Ah...that worry hadn’t actually occurred to me,” Jon replies, solemn enough that Tim can’t really tell if he’s joking.

Tim finger-guns. “Any other anxieties I can stir up while you’re over here?”

“I’m quite capable of stoking my own neuroses, thank you.”

lifting tim's fear here directly from my uni days. quiet libraries...so good at making me feel like i'm about to start emitting 1000 noises (i now work in a library but it's not a quiet one so we're mostly good)

jon who is jokes in a v specific deadpan way that a lot of people don't get...a good headcanon

trying to inject the right amount of slightly awkward formality into jon's dialogue is hard but fun...that last sentence i think i thought about a lot even though it's a short/simple thought. gotta make it sound like a short/simple Jon thought

another reason they would like each other right off the bat - banter

Jon glances over his shoulder at the tables the rest of the department are occupying, perhaps doing the same thing as Tim and trying to psyche himself up for some more hollow smalltalk. Tim notes that his jacket seems slightly large on him, but in a way that kind of works. The collar of his shirt is slightly out of place beneath it. There’s a lump forming in Tim’s throat, even though nothing is happening - nothing but standing close to someone, noticing the little signs that they’re real and alive entirely independent from him. He’s aware, as he always is, of the hollow pit in his stomach, pain ebbing and flowing but never gone, new flares thrown off from a familiar wound, now pulsing with a kind of loneliness. All this, just from standing close to someone and trying to make them feel better about a mistake that didn’t matter.

jon in big jacket...as the kids say, hot jon rights

i've also talked about this in another one of these but man. the little details that make it feel real that someone is there close to you. when you are lonely the reality of other people right there just out of your reach suddenly drives home

"a mistake that didn't matter" tim is always thinking about the mistakes that did matter :(

“I...might go out for a smoke,” Jon murmurs eventually.

And here’s where Tim could say sure, wave him off and go back to moping, buy everyone an obligatory round, flex his meaningless chat muscles and be home by half 9. “Mind if I join you?” he asks instead, and to his surprise Jon nods immediately, as if he’d been hoping Tim would say that.

i think jon here is like i think i am enjoying talking to this person but on some level would be relieved to stop, so i will take a punt as to whether or not he is also a smoker and let fate decide. luckily for him tim is not a smoker but he does crave human connection

They duck outside to find dark clouds have given way to an anticlimactic drizzle. They stay close to the pub, shielded from the rain by the slight overhang of the roof. Jon fumbles with a lighter and Tim finds his gaze drifting over the rain-slick streets. It’s been a while since he’s been...anywhere, really, other than work and his flat. Longer than he can remember since he was outside in the never-quite-dark of the city.

Despite himself, Tim finds himself admiring the buildings across the way, modern painted shop-fronts on the ground floor giving way to weathered brick and occasional stone carvings above. It was the first thing he’d loved about London, how you only had to look up to catch a glimpse of its history, and it almost wounds him all over again, that that love isn’t gone too. It would be easier if he was just one thing, all the way lost. It would be easier if he didn’t still love the world that killed Danny.

mostly my reaction when i have had to be in london is some level of :/ but maybe i do think fondly of some of it. cities at night...the weird mash up and modern & ancient in uk buildings that i always took for granted until i didn't. also hello architechture-buff tim

rereading this it's just very obvious to me that i wrote this during lockdown...like oh imagine going to a place and seeing a person. magical. effervescent

i do love them huddling close to keep out of the rain here...thematically appropriate, it is sad battered people against the world time, and also circumstance bringing you literally close to someone and having that change/spark something

the last line distresses me, the person who wrote it. i don't know if i have much to add to it really. sometimes the most painful part of living through something is waking up the next day and finding that you are still alive and a real person capable of being touched by the world

tim blames both himself and the world for killing danny. sure hope that blame and hatred doesn't rise up and send him into a spiral of self-destruction some day. would be a real bummer if that happened and ultimately led to his death via clown murder explosion

Jon lights his cigarette, and silently holds the lighter out to Tim. Tim shakes his head, and Jon doesn’t question him about why he’s come out here if he doesn’t smoke. Doesn’t press about the way Tim must be looking; he knows he’s never had much of a poker face. Danny tried to teach him poker, on a visit home from uni; Tim left for six weeks and came back to playing cards and strategy guides everywhere - his brother, who never sit still even in his own head -

“Where were you, before this?” Jon asks. Tim wouldn’t have pegged him for a smoker, but he looks immediately more relaxed with a cigarette in his hands. Nice hands, too. It would be easier, if he didn’t-

“Publishing,” Tim answers, before he can drift again. He wants to say more, to make sure this undemanding presence isn’t going to leave his side, but his throat is still tight. “You?”

Jon frowns, as if debating something to himself, then gives a tiny rueful smile. “Tesco.”

Tim grins. “Was it a haunted Tesco?”

“Only by customers,” Jon replies, dry as bone.

thank you for choosing this passage because now i have noticed/will edit the last sentence in the first paragraph, which is missing a word and does not scan right (should be 'who could never sit still even in his own head')

'Nice hands, too. It would be easier, if he didn’t-' hot. jon. rights. also connecting the 'maybe it would be easier if i wasn't still alive and real and capable of feeling' thing to noticing, appreciating, wondering if he wants something with jon

jon has definitely not told anyone else at the institute that he was in customer service before this. proud of him for this brief moment of trust. also between this and martin having told tim about his CV, i think people just look at tim and are like yeah here are my career-related secrets

i also just love imagining jon in customer service. and as someone who did not work in customer service at the time of writing this fic but now does, i mostly do not view customers as hauntings (library patrons are mostly chill) - unless it is 10 minutes until we close, in which case they are the absolute bane of my existence

#asks #anonymous #please leave a light on when you go #jontim #tma /#talking #no you cannot use a computer no you cannot start a long conversation about brexit we are CLOSING #long post

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