Give It Thyme

read it on the AO3 at

by IBoatedHere

They have an herb garden.

Words: 8635, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

read it on the AO3 at

Common (Head?)canon: #BadBobKnewFirst

Reverse Headcanon: #BadBobKnewLast


Bob: Wait, you’re dating that Bitty boy?  Since when?

Jack: Since graduation. Remember when you told me to “say goodbye” to him  at the ceremony?

Bob: I thought we were talking about that cute tennis girl. I didn’t even know you liked boys!

Jack: Really?  Even when Kent and I were together?

Bob: You and Kent were together?! Alicia, did you know about this?

Alicia: Honey, ESPN knew about that.

Bob: Why didn’t you tell me????


omgcp + pokemon au

i have a document saved on my desktop titled “check please! pokemon teams” that’s pushing four pages long, so. please feel free to yell about this au with me so i can justify the ridiculous amount of time i’ve spent thinking about who would have which pokemon and why

(click for better quality!)

  • ok but kent parson has definitely been calling bob “dad bob” since he met jack
  • it started as a joke and he really only kept it up because it annoyed jack so much but then bob caught wind of it and thought it was HILARIOUS so it just became what parse called him
  • and like he loses touch with the zimmermanns after the draft but old habits die hard, ya know?
  • so several years down the line kent decides to come out. he’s secure in his position as captain, he’s won the cup twice, and kit purrson has a ridiculous number of followers on instagram. he’s totally ready. 
  • what he’s NOT ready for is bob zimmermann making a very kind (and viral) statement of support in the immediate aftermath. he knows it’s probably directed as much at jack as it is at him but still. they haven’t really spoken in years and kent was never much more to bob than “jack’s best friend” so it’s surprisingly touching
  • so then he’s answering reporters’ questions one day, maybe at a press conference or something, and someone asks him about bob’s statement bc ofc they’re gonna talk about bob zimmermann
  • and kent says something like, “oh, it was really nice to get that kind of support from dad bob-”
  • and kent’s not jack, he understands how the media and the internet work - he knows in that moment he’s fucked
  • it goes viral. because of course it does. dad bob becomes a meme. pictures of bob and baby jack surface with DAD BOB plastered on them like its grumpy cat or something. jack is mortified. bob thinks it’s hilarious. bitty retweets ALL OF THEM. 
  • and kent feels a little bad about it - dad bob was his thing, just between him and the zimmermanns - but everyone thinks it’s cute and it’s taken off some of the media pressure of coming out so kent rolls with it
  • he dodges questions about it and doesn’t retweet or repost any of the memes he’s seen. but one day kit purrson’s followers wake up to a new post:
  • and kent has posted the infamous picture of bob holding jack over the stanley cup side-by-side with a picture of kent holding kit over his toilet or smth making the same ridiculous face. 
  • the caption is simply “LEARNED FROM THE BEST #DADBOB”
  • (it goes viral. of course.)
  • jack just texts him a string of grumpy face emojis. bitty actually calls him, but is laughing too hard to say anything. bob links the post to his facebook.
the smh marching band au you’ve been waiting for

Eric Bittle—former captain of his high school’s color guard, vlogger extraordinaire, and amateur pâtissier—is starting his freshman year participating in the prestigious Samwell University Wellie Marching Band. It’s nothing like his small underfunded band in the South. For one? They have the money to buy proper equipment–the stuff that Bitty has only dreamed about.

  • Bitty is flipping his shit internally because he knows that college marching band is a whole ‘nother level than high school and it’s not just any college band it’s Samwell, possibly one of the best college marching bands in the states
  • and when he shows up at Samwell that summer for band camp he meets:
  • Jack, a phenomenal trumpet player of legend, not to mention the band’s drum major
    • the son of Bad Bob Zimmerman, the greatest trumpet player in the history of Drum Corps International (basically pro marching band)
  • Shitty, the half naked, obscene, and open minded center snare and drum line captain 
  • Ransom (who is one of too many tuba players) and Holster (who one of the few mellophone players) are the gung ho bro brass captains 
    • they have section headbands and everything, brass players are very enthusiastic 
  • Nursey and Dex, are the woodwind captains who never stop bickering
    • it literally drives everyone nuts
    • the band places bets on how long it will be until they start up another argument 
  • Nursey went to Juliard  as a kid and is a literal clarinet god and owns like seven custom clarinets from France and Dex hates him everyday for it because he’s still beautifully *honking* away at his old middle school saxophone
    • which is not saying much because Dex is the best sax player Nursey’s ever met, and he studied at Julliard  for Christ’s sake. imagine what would happen if he ditched his old Yamaha??!? the world would bow to his feet
  • Lardo, the piccolo player and other drum major who keeps the whole band more organized and in control than Hall and Murray combined
  • and Chowder the sweet innocent flute player who has a vibrato strong enough to make even the manliest men cry

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whiskeytangofrogman  asked:

Okay okay okay literally all I can think of is either A) Harry Potter Check Please AU with Kent Parson and Jack Zimmermann as the sons of famous magicians, both famed to end up in Slytherin because of their family line always being there (and idk Slytherin isn't as pureblooded Evil now) but Jack ends up in Hufflepuff instead, and that's Rough for him, and even worse when Bitty gets into Slytherin and he seems 0% snakey, or B) anything with Bob and Alicia because?? You write them so well

Yes, this did turn into a multi-chapter mess of angst and drama.


Platform 9 ¾ is much larger than Jack expects it to be. It’s bustling and crowded, families and taking up space in every direction. There are so many people, sort of like he’s at a Quidditch game. Jack doesn’t know how he feels about that, but he thinks it’s not a positive feeling.

“You’re gonna be fine, Jack,” Alicia says, ruffling his hair and smoothing the shoulders of his Magpies jersey.

“I am?” he asks.

“Sure,” Alicia says. “You’ve got the same sort of drive like your dad.”

Jack doesn’t mention that if his dad were really proud of him, he’d be there at the platform to send him off to Hogwarts and he’s not. He knows his dad has practice, trying to get Scotland’s national team up to scratch before the World Cup, since Scotland’s been pretty bad at that lately, but still.

“Just as ambitious,” Alicia says, handing Jack the cage with his owl. It’s an odd creature, with its heart-shaped barn owl face, grey, its shoulders all speckled. The shopkeeper had said no one wanted it, which just about broke Jack’s heart. Apparently, it was from Australia so it didn’t fit in very well with the other owls. Jack hopes it’ll be fine in Scotland, but worst comes to worst, he figures he can smuggle it into the Slytherin dormitories and keep it there. His dad always said the Slytherin dorms were warm at the very least.

“Alright, you’ve got to get on the train before you miss it,” Alicia says, ushering Jack onto the train. She hugs him goodbye, and the steam whistle blows, and Jack is left alone to try and find a compartment for himself and his owl.

All of the other compartments are full of people right up until he gets to the very end of the train. There’s only one boy sitting in that compartment, and his blond hair is messy, the front sticking up a little absurdly. He’s wearing jeans with holes in them and a sort of grungy black and orange jersey for a team with a tiger on it that Jack doesn’t recognise. The boy looks up in surprise when Jack opens the door of the compartment.

“Can I maybe – can I sit here?” Jack asks.

“Sure,” the boy says. His trainers are a little beat up as well, but there aren’t holes in them. They’re just dirty and old.

Jack drags his trunk in and sits down across from the boy. He sets his owl’s cage on top of his trunk and it hoots softly.

“What’s your owl’s name?” the boy asks.

“Jet,” Jack says. “Like the–”

“The stone, yeah,” the boy agrees. “’Cause of its eyes?”

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So I can't believe this hasn't been considered

So Jack has anxiety with a capital A, right? And in most fics where he does hockey, you usually read something like this “once he hits the ice, it all goes away” or something like that.

And yeah I get that. But like, I raise you swimmer!Jack. Swimmer Jack who is all anxious and tense until he dives into the pool, where all the noise is reduced to nothing, where all you are is yourself, cutting across the water, silent and deep and you hear MAYBE the muffled sounds of other people kicking but all you feel is peace.

Like imagine as a child Jack who loved watching his dad just cut across the water, wanting to be exactly like him. Jack who, when he first hit the water, fell instantly in love and wanted to swim deeper and deeper, where you could scream whatever you want underwater and you couldn’t be heard, a funny game of telephone. Where he could be King of Atlantis or a human who discovered mermaids and mermen. Who tested his ears and exhaled through his nose trying to do a handstand at the bottom of the pool.

Imagine a teenage Jack, feeling all the pressure in the world, realizing his every step was analyzed, that he’d never be like his father, the great Bad Bob who had countless gold medals in the Olympics (because what’s bigger than the Olympics in swimming honestly), and all he wanted to do was swim. He wanted that peace in the water again, and though he got it, he also got the warbling swimming coaches in his ears telling him about his stroke, his kicks, his glide, etc.

Imagine a teenage Jack Zimmerman who is held at arms length away from his peers, who runs to the pool at 5 AM to do 200 meter sprints and kicks, who pushes himself to the max, who hides behind kickboards and fins, who is one of the best on his team, who flip turns five seconds before his peers reach the wall, who is thought to be full of himself… imagine lonely Swimmer Jack who screams at the bottom of swimming pools not to play but instead to let it out but not be heard. He must be better. He must. He must continue the legacy in any way he can.

Imagine lonely Swimmer Jack Zimmerman as he finds a boy equal to his skill, a blonde named Kent Parson who is his companion at these meets, who loves to freestyle and can keep pace with Zimmerman, and hangs out with him after practice, who loves Jack more than anything, who he wants to fuck in the locker room.

They fuck in the locker room.

Their chemistry is electric in relays, they are always ready for one another, their pace equal to only each other. They’re always one right after the other, always together always improving.

They are stars.

They love each other, but they’re young and that love is hot and destructive. Where Jack runs away from the excess stimuli, Kent is the one that runs toward. He invites Jack to parties, they love each other and go, they fuck, and then they spend quite time (for Jack) in the room, holding unto the person they feel they can genuinely hold a future with.

But this is a fantasy. Jack’s anxiety doesn’t die, and Kent doesn’t know the first thing about anxiety. Kent tries to be supportive but Jack doesn’t have the tools to truly understand this anxiety and it causes tension. Kent can’t understand why Jack sometimes is the way he is, and Jack is mostly frustrated with himself that he can’t communicate what he feels and why with Kent. He barely understands himself.

So he starts taking pills. The pills help, but nothing is the quiet of the water. They help for a bit, but it’s almost time for Olympic tryouts.

The more the commentators spend on him, the more pills he takes.

He swims.

He takes.

He fucks Kent.

Even the water stops being safe for a time because it’s filled with his own screams of agony. Can’t let them see how much they get to you. Can’t let them see.

Everything is fine, but it’s not.

Kent understands there’s something off but honestly it LOOKS LIKE Jack is doing better.

They love.

They fuck.

They swim.

The selection process is coming.

More pills.

They try out.

They pass. First round done.

They go out to celebrate but while Kent is happy, Jack is drowning. Kent doesn’t know what to look for.

They go to the second round.

They pass.

More pills.

Success, but not really.

Until it all becomes too much and Jack dries himself off of the pool and overdoses on too many pills in his family’s lockeroom the day before the third round of tryouts.

Kent goes to the Olympic team while Jack goes to rehab.

Bitty is a former synchronized swimmer.

Jack goes to Samwell Men’s swim team to get back in Olympic graces

Tbh that’s all I got for rn

Smallhythe Place, Kent by Bob Radlinski

Built in the early 16th-century when Smallhythe was a thriving shipbuilding port (today it’s miles from the nearest navigable water), Smallhythe Place was later purchased by celebrity Victorian actress, Ellen Terry, in 1899. Ellen Terry’s daughter, Edith Craig, transformed the house into a museum to her mother’s stage career. There is also a thatched roof barn converted to a theatre where the likes of Sir John Guilgud (the nephew of Ellen Terry) have performed.

omg Cap and I were talking on twitter about trans kent

and Cap @tictacbergerac just wrote about KP in the most spectacular and beautiful light I have to share 

  • kent who has the oldest fucking rattiest binder int he world
  • ok it’s a piece of Fucking garbage but it’s like? almost a comfort object for him at this point?
  • but he doesnt evn Need it anymore bc he had top surgery the summer after he won the Stanley Cup 

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okay listen, bad bob calling kent ‘son’ is like…the only important thing in my life. the parents zimmermann still texting kent all the time. when ent scores his first nhl goal, bob calls him and says, “i’m really proud of you kiddo, i wish we could’ve been there” and kent saying, “me too,” in response. bob presenting kent with the calder when he wins. kent having his first cup day in montreal with the zimmermanns and his mom and sister. jack still sending kent the super lame christmas gifts they used to always exchange when they were young, stupid american eagle gift cards and really ugly home made cards, that bob and alicia still both sign. bob inviting kent to do a charity golf event with him and gretzky and mario lemieux like it’s nothing. it gets filmed and bob calls kent ‘son’ on camera. bob being the father figure that kent never had!!! i’m seriously fucked up and it’s all softbrah‘s fault