where is my very soft time traveling fic featuring zimbits where they meet their grown-up selves with 2.5 kids via stanley cup magic just so I can read a scene like this:
Shitty (coming downstairs to kitchen for breakfast): oh hey Bob. I didn’t know you were visiting us. Nice flow, when’d you get it? Who’s the cute blonde dad behind you? Also why are there children in the haus–
Older Jack (juggling his toddler, who is playing with his hair): …I’m Jack.
Shitty: haha okay–(focuses on Jack’s face, spits out coffee)–holy–who is going to write this so i can read another scene with Older Bitty meeting Younger Jack and telling his husband, “Oh, honey, look at you! Jack, sweetheart, you’re practically a baby! Can you believe I fell in love with this face 15 years ago? Gosh, it’s been so long.” and Younger Jack is just like….oh God Dad Bitty is hot what do i do while Older Jack kind of narrows his eyes at his younger self in a way that’s obviously saying ‘dont even think about touching my husband’ but then he’s like wait, Younger Jack is still technically himself so now he’s just confused
Tag: jack zimmermann
In which Jack thinks they’re dating and Bitty is oblivious: Part 1 (LDR)
fan art of omgcheckplease for zimbitsweek
see the rest of this (as it appears) here.
okay but picture for a moment: Cajun Bitty
instead of being from georgia, bitty comes from some little mud-soaked town off the Bayou Teche and he’s pretty decent at Cajun French, because moomaw insisted he keep the culture alive
so he gets excited when he finds out that he’s on a team with Jack, who speaks Quebecois cause they’re both forms of French so maybe they can talk??? it’ll be great and it’ll help with that homesickness
but then they try and have a conversation and it’s just a fucking disaster because Bitty is like “well okay some of the words he pronounces differently but otherwise it’s pretty easy to understand” and Jack is just like “…what the fuck, why are you pronouncing everything wrong??????” and eventually they just get into an argument over it and finally bitty just kinda huffs off and mutters
“ c’est sa couillon...”
and jack just calls back, “i understood that, toton!”
George: Jack, you look anxious.
Jack: It’s the anxiety.
From a recent sketch jam. I hope something can make you smile today.
Written for the @nurseyweek prompt: “challenge.”
“I keep better time during hockey season,” Jack tells him once. “Easier to track a life in wins and losses than in idle days, eh?”
And Nursey can definitely relate, but he definitely doesn’t say so. Not when Bitty gets that look on his face at overhearing the conversation, like what Jack’s just said is the saddest thing to ever be uttered. The hockey robot who can’t quite human the way he should.
The thing is that Nursey is his own kind of robot, if he’s honest with himself. Which he tries not to be anymore. “Honesty” usually packs a punch that he would rather not suffer through if he can help it.
Robot Nursey is very good at projecting the appearance of a person that is the polar opposite of the person all of his internal thoughts and emotions want him to be. He can compartmentalize nearly any situational response that goes against this outward ruse. And he can neatly divide his own life up into a series of challenges that his careful mask has faced, and a collection of coping mechanisms to go with them.
Loving Dex has somehow become both.
Okay so hockey is like, rife with superstitions and
ritual.Each player has their own pre-game rituals, which are
honestly on par with religious sacraments.
You do not fuck with a man’s
pre-game ritual. Also, the inability to
practice one’s pre-game ritual is deeply emotionally destabilizing. Like, we’re talking serious repercussions
here. If a player is unable to complete their
sacred ritual, there will be hell to pay.Just as famous as Crosby’s famous pre-game plate of spaghetti,
or Jack Zimmerman’s pre-game PB&J, is Snowy’s pre-game application of eyeliner. It is not only essential to his game play; it
is essential to the current alignment of our space-time continuum.Which brings us to Snowy, currently in the throes of an
emotional breakdown, in seat 15C on the Falc’s bus, clutching desperately to
his last remaining tube of La Nuit, Nior
de Nior eyeliner as though it were the cooling body of his only son.
“Bittle thinks I forgot his birthday.” X
just moving along like everyone else 