eric's replies are...eric like

anonymous asked:

Omg for the kissing fic meme, forehead kisses, nose kisses, tummy kisses or goofy kisses are my weakness. Any of or all of the above would be incredible for Jack and Bitty :)

Bittle’s laughter rings through the bedroom, and Jack grins, hides it against the soft skin of Bittle’s hip inches from where he blew his last raspberry. Bittle’s hands tug at his hair and he’s gasping Jack’s name and it’s so very like ten minutes ago and so very different Jack feels giddy with it.

“You!” Bittle laughs.

Jack noses at the skin low on Bittle’s stomach, breathes deep and smells sweat and sex. He blows a raspberry just south of Bittle’s navel.

“You are a cruel man, Jack Zimmermann,” Bittle gets out, breathless. His usual cadence trips and tumbles. He’s red-cheeked. He’s beautiful.

“Am I?” he asks. He presses a kiss back on Bittle’s hip, another on the crease of his thigh. He kisses Bittle’s stomach, feels Bittle shift beneath his mouth. He’s warm and solid and here in Jack’s bed laughing, smiling, petting Jack’s hair like there’s no place he’d rather be.

“Yes,” Bittle says, eyes dark, wide. “The cruelest,” and then he’s pulling Jack up, up, kissing him with hot intent.

mrsklemzak  asked:

More tidbits pls? Gonna put your blog on notify. :D

haha sure! i mean, i’m just recalling snippets of things she said while she was sketching but

  • coach’s first name is richard and that is indeed why bitty’s middle name is richard
  • jack is loosely based off of sidney crosby in that ngozi wanted to see what it would be like if she ruined his life (sort of, see previous post)
  • bad bob is supposed to be wayne gretzky, basically
  • pretty much everyone on the team comes from some sort of privilege because let’s face it hockey is an expensive sport. even the bittles are distinctly not-poor because coach is a football coach in the south and that is a thing
  • ransom’s parents are super educated; i think at least his mother is a scientist
  • lardo is a first generation american; chowder is not. his parents met at samwell
  • shitty’s parents met at andover and immediately fell in love; shitty’s childhood was a push-pull of her, very liberal, wanting to make sure he grew up aware of his privilege and him, rich legacy, wanting shitty to uphold that legacy
  • zimmermann is spelled with two ‘n’s to make him distinct from george zimmerman
  • bitty was originally supposed to be a prep school kid from connecticut (laughing so hard because i am in fact from connecticut)
  • bitty grew less intense and jack grew more intense during the conception phase
  • there was a fascinating discussion about jack and kent’s names and nicknames: they each sort of have three tiers from casual to intimate (zimmermann - jack - zimms and kent - parse - kenny, i believe). when they usually talk they are in the middle at jack & parse. when they are pissed at each other it’s zimmermann & kent. when they are having more intimate conversation it’s zimms & kenny
  • from last livestream: bitty would be something like a jigglypuff if he were a pokemon. if he were a trainer he would totally have like a level 70 charmander he wouldn’t make evolve. jack would have something like a growlithe and also a gyarados and would probably legitimately think gyarados was cute. he’d think it was weird bitty didn’t have a charizard by now and his team would be mostly intimidating pokemon. (i may or may not have spent like 3 solid hours trying to make jack and bitty’s perfect teams from the original 150 because who has time for anything else now really)
  • parse is a slytherin
  • jack is not that good at photography and probably knows it, but he doesn’t care
  • bad bob’s friends actually call him ‘bobby’
  • holster and ransom have a fuck-ton of sisters between them lol
  • jack has a hard time letting anyone in and that includes shitty (i.e. there are things about him even shitty does not know)

but probably the best and most important piece of information is that, in the spirit of stanford’s tree, samwell’s mascot is a fucking dancing well. like the kind you draw water from. idk how canon ngozi actually intended that to be, but the sketch she drew was PRICELESS (and she said it’d go up somewhere)

lyssore  asked:

Hello, you wrote in the notes of Tales from the Pit that we could send you prompts on this Tumblr account, so in the event that it would inspire you, here is one. The name changing thing felt really important in the books so maybe you could do something where Tris tells Eric (or someone else, the BFF with Richards in chapter 2 was very nice to read) that if he wants to, he can also call her Béatrice? Because the use of her full name is a gift she allows only to people she feels very close to?

I have some very strong feelings on Tris’ name, some of which you may be able to see with how I worked on this drabble. I don’t fault people who like letting Tris have that sort of connection with her friends by way of her full name. I just tend to see it less as “Tris is a nickname for her full name” and more as “Tris is her identity in Dauntless and Beatrice was her identity in Abnegation.” I enjoy Tris as a Dauntless rather than a renegade Divergent causing trouble and drop-kicking the system, so I like her as Tris, full stop. 

So, in an attempt to balance those feelings and still fulfill the prompt idea, please enjoy!

A Transfer by Any Other Name

I chewed on a bit of jerky as I scrolled through the list of Initiates this year. It had fallen on my shoulders as the newest in the office and therefore lowest on the totem pole. I had to file all the appropriate paperwork for our newest tentative members, and I began to understand why Eric complained about it.

Medical files had been forwarded to our office at random intervals. Some included previous family histories making the computer in my office whir painfully loudly as it downloaded every byte. Two had come by courier in paper form, forcing me to transcribe them over digitally. Still others were single files with a birth date and some innoculations listed alphabetically without any other date listed. It was my responsibility to take all of this information and file it away with our new Initiates.

What made it even more complicated was the fact that everything I received was by prior name. Part of my job was to also reassign files to the initiate’s new name - if they’d taken one. Annabelle Williams now went by the far less farm-girl sounding Anne Wills. Craig Jetson got rid of his entire first name and had decided to be called Jet. There was a whole separate form for those who were forgoing a family name, for the sake of maintaining the family record. One that I was entirely out of.  

I rolled my chair out from the bullpen to coast up to Kyle’s desk. “How’s my favorite ex-officemate?” I asked. Now that I was out of training, ironically I lost the tiny scrap of office space that I and the other trainee’s had shared with him. Not that any of them had used the space anyways, but that was probably their own fault for not taking advantage of an actual door that shut.

The dark haired secretary twisted his head to look at me. “I don’t have any more of those soft caramels, so you can stop that right off, Prior” he drawled.

“Ouch,” I breathed, pressing a hand over my heart. “I’m Prior today? Not even Tris?”

“You’re doing paperwork which means in about three hours I’m going to be doing paperwork auditing,” he sighed. “That makes you Prior today. Especially since it’s shitty Candor legal-ese papers.”

He had me there. “I would offer to help-” I started to say, but he’d already started waving the suggestion away. “I know, I know. It’s auditing and you can’t audit yourself.”

“Get your pretty blonde boyfriend to help and maybe you can be Tris again,” Kyle teased.

I leaned on his desk and tipped my head to mirror how his was propped on one palm. “If I get him to do the auditing instead of you, can I be Beatrice?”

Kyle blinked twice in rapid succession. “Why would you want to be an old Abnegation grandmother?”

“That’s my name. Beatrice. Tris is just a nickname,” I answered. “I just… People I’m close to can call me that without it being weird? I thought I’d told Rich awhile ago. Figured he would have mentioned it by now.” I’d thrown him off of his game. Normally that would have made me crack a smile in pride. Something in how his eyes were darting over my face now unsettled me.

I asked for the name change form I needed and rolled away before he had the chance to be any weirder. The nagging feeling stuck in the back of my head any time that I looked up from my work for a break.

Staring at Jet’s paperwork made me realize something that I hadn’t considered before. What was my name, according to Dauntless’ records? Was I still Beatrice Prior, like I’d thought?

A few clicks in the program I was logged into brought me out of this year’s initiate directory. The folder from two years earlier held my initiate class. I scrolled past Al’s files as quickly as possible in an effort to keep the tall boy in my head where he belonged. My name didn’t crop up next, and it wasn’t until I’d passed Peter that I spotted my name.

Tris Prior.

My stomach flipped slightly. Seeing it there in green text was more impactful than hearing it every day. I drew up a new name change form and began to fill in the lines with my information.

My hand stilled as I hovered over the NEW NAME line. Ink welled at the tip of my pen, threatening to stain the page. Four had said back on the day of the Choosing ceremony that if I changed my name, it would be my only chance. It wasn’t true; I was holding the evidence in my hand now.


I had said Tris and it hadn’t been the impulsive decision made in a rush of endorphins. I’d chewed over what it would be like to walk away from an Abnegation name like Beatrice before to drive back the slow boredom of service work.


It was reflexive to respond to Tris now, to embrace the girl that I’d decided on being when I fell down that pit.


The line was ruined, ink running in chaotic patterns as it soaked into the fibers of the paper. I chucked the busted pen into the garbage. Next came the form, folded into quarters to be slid into paper recycling.

Later, when I was tucked under Eric’s arm and sitting on Richards’ couch, I found another spot of ink on my hand. I rubbed at it fruitlessly before sighing. “Hey Tris?” Kyle called from behind me. “Can I get a hand bringing in this cooler? My arms are about to fall off.”

I wriggled out from under my boyfriend’s arm, a smile back on my face. “So I’m back to Tris?” I teased. The cooler was stuck in the doorway as Kyle tried to fit himself and the plastic behemoth in at the same time. He rolled his eyes and nearly dropped the cooler on me.

“Keep it up or you’ll be down to ‘hey blonde girl,’” he groaned. It was an empty threat and I laughed instead.

“As long as it’s not Grandma, I’ll be OK,” I said, hefting the cooler on top of their small kitchenette table.

Kyle threw himself onto a chair, his arms dangling comicly. “Can Gramma Bea get me a beer?”

I dug through the ice to find the stout that he drank. He popped it open on the edge of the table. We’d had conversations about how that would never happen on my furniture, but I had no control over how he treated his own stuff. “I actually thought about it,” I said quietly. “Looking it up, I saw that I was already in the system as Tris. And I was going to change my name back to Beatrice. But I couldn’t do it. I’d rather leave that name in the past, with my family.”

He paused partway through a long draw to study me once more. Then, he nodded, apparently satisfied with what he saw this time. “Good,” he grunted. “But I’ll miss the new nickname ammunition. I already had a plan for a bit of black and yellow modelling clay to cover your desk in tiny bees.”

Beatrice & Eric | Returning Home

Louisiana, 2017.

A young woman, with blond hair and hazel colored eyes, stepped out of her Chevrolet 2018 Camaro which she had parked in front of this—Nightclub. It has taken her years, decades, to eventually end up here and it was safe to say that she was nervous. It was broad daylight and no one was to be seen, which didn’t surprise the young woman. She got used to living like a normal human being, thanks to help of her own progeny, Claire. She missed her, so damn terribly, but there was nothing Beatrice could tell her to make her change her mind.

With ease, thanks to her abilities, she entered the nightclub, which seemed deserted. Like no one was present these days. But Beatrice knew this was not the case. “Hello? Anyone there?” She spoke on a soft curious tone, slowly walking around. She noticed this chair and with a soft smile on her face she walked towards it, before eventually sitting on it, looking over the nightclub.

While sitting there she wondered how he looked like and if she looked like him or not. If she had a beating heart, it was racing against her chest now. “I know someone’s here—I can smell it.” Beatrice said, still looking around. Was it naïve to come or not? She did not know, but she had to see him…

Originally posted by eronnsgifs


61below  asked:

For the kiss meme: zimbits #9?

[jawline kiss]

Bitty wakes up to golden light filtering through gray curtains, an empty bed, and steam that smells of Jack’s shampoo and body wash drifting from the open door of Jack’s master bathroom. It’s not his favorite way to wake up–that involves Jack’s arms still around him, his lips against Bitty’s neck, their hips tucked together–but it’s up there. He stretches, savoring the pull of muscle in his shoulders and legs, before rising and padding to the bathroom.

The door is halfway open, and Bitty can see Jack’s foggy reflection in the mirror. He watches for a moment, eyes lingering on the smooth movement of muscle along Jack’s shoulders as he wipes a spot clear on the mirror before spreading shaving cream on his jaw and cheeks. He’s beautiful like this, skin damp and hair curling. He’s always beautiful, but this Jack, this morning Jack, is Bitty’s and Bitty’s alone. He smiles to himself and pushes the door open the rest of the way, meets Jack’s eyes in the mirror. Lets himself in and pulls himself up to sit on the counter beside Jack.

“Morning,” Jack says, voice low and rumbly, and, in the heat of the bathroom, Bitty shivers.

“Mornin’,” he mumbles, knee pressed to Jack’s hip, toes brushing the edge of Jack’s towel, the soft skin of his knee. He wants to kiss Jack, to press himself against the abundance of warm skin. To pull Jack back to bed where the light is still like something from a dream and the sheets smell like both of them.

He waits, watching instead as the smooth skin of Jack’s jaw appears with each careful sweep of his razor. As much as he likes the stubble–and, oh, he likes the stubble–there’s something about being here like this with Jack, about watching his measured movements, that Bitty loves. There is only the two of them in the warm embrace of the humid bathroom and no one else in all the world.

When Jack is done, when the last of the stubble and the shaving cream has been wiped away, Bitty reaches for him. He presses his fingers to Jack’s cheek and the newly bare skin, turns him just so. Leans up to press his lips against the edge of his jaw, then his chin, his lips. He kisses Jack, and Jack kisses back, and there’s no better way to start the day.

missoj  asked:

Kissing fic meme: I'd love to see either 13 (stomach kiss) or 17 (goofy kiss) for Jack/Bitty. (or, you know, literally anything else you want to write.) Thanks!

[stomach kiss]

It’s quiet in the Haus now, everyone left or leaving. It isn’t home anymore, not for Jack or Shitty or Lardo or Ransom or Holster, but it’s still one of the most important places Jack’s ever lived. Still one of the most important places he visits.

It’s quiet, but it isn’t silent. There’s the patter of rain outside, the settling of wood, the creak of a mattress. The sigh that shudders out of Bittle as Jack kisses down the column of his neck to trace the wings of his collar bone with his nose. Bittle shivers and shakes and sinks fingers in Jack’s hair, and all Jack can think about are the tears earlier as Bittle said goodbye to their friends, their former teammates, and how close Jack came to missing this.

“Jack,” Bittle breathes as Jack kisses across his chest. “Jack,” he says, his fingers slipping against the round of Jack’s shoulder.

Jack smiles, presses the curve of it to the curve of Bittle’s abs. Breathes in and smells skin and sweat and Bittle. He pulls back for a moment, wants to look, to see Bittle laid out, bare skin glowing in the light filtering through the window. He loves it here. He loves Bitty.

He almost missed this.

“Bits,” he says, voice coming out thick. “I love you.”

Bittle smiles. It’s the most beautiful thing Jack has ever seen. “I love you, too, sweetheart.”

Jack smiles back and feels like the moon, reflecting. He kisses Bittle’s wrist, so near, before bending again to the task at hand. He kisses Bittle’s chest again, then his stomach. Then lower, lower.

The Haus is quiet.

anonymous asked:

ugh hi I'm stuck at an airport and won't be getting home until 3am, do you have any zimbits airport HCs?

Oh gosh, um! I’ve only ever flown twice myself? (Once there and once back.) So I don’t have a lot of airport experience to pull from lol. That said!

- Jack hates sitting and waiting. The flights themselves are long enough, so when there’s a delay, he walks the terminal. He likes people watching when he does this, and takes pictures with his phone, sends them to Bitty. (Bitty in turn speculates about the people in the photos, and soon time is passing quickly with Bitty’s assertions that the family of five in matching Hawaiian shirts and haircuts is on their way to audition for America’s Got Talent [plate spinning] and the gentleman in the tweed suit with wire-rimmed glasses is taking notes for his next steamy romance novel [set in an airport]. He makes Jack laugh, and Jack aches with how much he wants Bitty’s voice in his ear and Bitty’s hand on his arm as they people watch.)

- Bitty hates watching the planes take off. He sets himself up in gift shops, and though he doesn’t travel as much as Jack, he brings back souvenirs for Jack and their friends, key chains and shot glasses and postcards with state flowers and birds and crests embellishing them. (Shitty loves the shot glasses and arranges them alphabetically. [Jack once reordered them by the year they become states and chuckled like the big dork he is when Shitty finally noticed.])

- When they travel together, they find seats tucked out of the way, two together with no arm rest between. Jack sits back, doesn’t mind being still when Bitty is pressed against him, tucked under Jack’s arm where he belongs now that they’re out. They people watch, and Bitty tweets and plans and jitters beside Jack until Jack puts a wide hand on his knee and stills that nervous movement. Bitty smiles at him, bumps him with his side. Grabs Jack’s hand, lacing their fingers together, and tugs him with to the gift shop.

- I am now thinking of all sorts of Love, Actually airport scenarios with missed connections and Jack and Bitty meeting for the first time when their flight is delayed due to a snowstorm. They end up playing cards together on the terminal floor and trading stories from their childhood that they normally wouldn’t tell someone so soon. They play cards and they laugh and Jack buys them cocoa out of a questionable machine and Bitty tells him about the pies he’s planning to bake over his Christmas break and Jack tells him about the book he’s reading and then Bitty mentions going to the rink to skate and Jack goes from 0-110% just like that. (Okay not really, he was already at like an 80% because Bitty is all golden and pink and warm and smiling and funny and Jack has been wondering if his hair is as soft as it looks and if his lips are as sweet and he’s head over heels by the time Bitty mentions skating.)