So I just heard this story where in France instead of saying “Merci beaucoup” (thank you so much) my friend said “Merci bon cul” (thanks, nice ass) to the bell boy who brought up her bags and all I could think of is Bitty making that mistake when talking to Jack (either pre/post relationship) and Jack just dying of laughter and Bitty dying of mortification when he finds out what he actually said
NEON HIGHWAY: A Rhack serial killer Americana road trip AU set in the vague 70’s/80’s; Southwestern gothic-flavoured.Shitty food, cheap motels, and desert for days; driving for miles and digging shallow graves.
okay but i can’t stop thinking about jack doing that whole goofy roughhousing-as-flirting kinda shit with bits once they start dating like
a playful argument quickly turning into jack fake-punching bitty’s arms, poking him in the belly, getting him into a headlock that’s just an excuse to be all up on him, until bitty’s crying with laughter and jack pushes him down onto the couch and flops on top of him, winning the “”””””fight””””” and squishing his cute lil bf into agreeing that yes, your ass is better than sid crosby’s ok you WIN
(So there we were, a 6th level party fighting our way through an ambush of empowered undead, still trying to get used to our first mythic tier. The heavy hitter of the encounter is an empowered undead STORM GIANT, that just made an attack roll of 41, and hit the Fovung the Paladin for more than half his HP. So I, playing Jack the Rogue, start racking up some sneak attacks, accidentally drawing his attention.)
DM: The storm giant is crackling with electricity, channeling the energy from his chest into his rusty greatsword. So, Jack: Any last words?
Magnus the Summoner: Flip him off!
Jack the Rogue: Yep, I’m doing that. I just hope it’s a low roll.
(At this point, I’m doing the math in my head. “He just has to roll *just* low enough… pleasepleasepleaseplease…”)
(The giant rolls with a +26 modifier, for a total of 33. Any other combat I would figuratively shit my pants at this number. But the instant I see the roll…)
Jack: YES!! YES!! *YEEEEEEEES!!!*
Literally everyone else: Wait, what?!
Jack: MYTHIC!! DOOOOOOOODGE!!
Magnus: He burns one mythic power and adds a +10 dodge bonus to his AC!
DM: How much did it miss by?
DM: Alright, it’s your turn now. You just Matrix dodged that electrified greatsword by a hair. It came so close you smelled the rust and ozone coming off of it. What are you gonna do?
Jack: Full attack this guy, and top it off with a Surprise Strike that cuts through his DR!
(After just enough sneak attack damage in one round…)
DM: The storm giant falls to his knees, the knees you stabbed to hell. He’s falling towards you. Roll me a reflex save.
Jack: 27! I jump straight up, land on the back of his head, and RIDE HIM DOWN TO THE GROUND!
Fovung the Paladin: Jack killed the giant! You should call your sword “The Beanstalk”!
Jack: I AM A GOD!!!
(Didn’t even take a single hit that entire encounter. Lucky God.)
When Bitty returned to the Haus, eyes sore from crying and cheeks aching from smiling, he started at the sight of a familiar car parked outside.
Wordlessly, he turned to Ransom, who smirked at him. “I’ll hold your plaque,” he said, far too innocently.
With a small gasp, Bitty shoved the award into Ransom’s hands and darted towards the front door, barreling into the entryway like a man possessed. He looked around wildly, until he noticed the shadow moving within the kitchen.
When Bitty poked his head into the room, he did indeed find Jack Zimmermann leaning against the counter, checking his phone. The moment he saw Bitty, Jack straightened up and tucked his phone away, holding his arms outstretched.
Holding back a childish squeal, Bitty launched himself at Jack, wrapping arms and legs around his boyfriend as tight as he could. Jack laughed and held him up, letting Bitty pepper kisses across the side of his face.
“I got the C!” Bitty shouted, wiggling a little. “I got the C!”
“Congrats, bud,” Jack said softly. “Knew you had it in you.”
“Unanimous, Jack,” Bitty said, pressing their foreheads together. “Just like you.”
“Better than me,” Jack said automatically. “But, yeah. I’m so proud of you.”
Bitty melted against him, so happy he thought his heart might jump straight ouf of his chest. “Thanks, baby. This is…this is so much. I- I gotta call Mama!”
Jack laughed harder as Bitty tried to slip from his grasp, just holding him closer. “In a minute, Bits. Just…stop for a minute. Let it all soak in. Be proud of yourself, you’ve come so far.”
Bitty sighed, half in exasperation, half in contentment, and let Jack set him down on the counter. “I am,” he whispered. “I…I just love everyone so much.”
“And they love you,” Jack said, resting his hands on Bitty’s hips. “More than you’ll ever realize.”
“Look at us,” Bitty said with a goofy grin. “The only two unanimously voted captains of the Samwell hockey team. We could be the start a dynasty.“
Jack barked with laughter, head tilted back, and he shook his head in amusement. “We sure could, Bits. We sure could.”
HEY! It was @whoacanada‘s berfday yesterday! <3 Here’s a little something for you. I hope you had an amazing birthday! xoxo
Sometimes, it’s really hard for Jack Laurent Zimmermann to concentrate when Bitty is in the room. Back at Samwell – and well, most of his life, really – Jack had been able to keep his mind on one track. Focused. Trained.
But then, he found big brown eyes watching him with timidity, with curiosity, with friendship, with love, with lust… and then all bets were off. And if he’s honest with himself, Eric Richard Bittle made him stumble and lose his concentration well before that first kiss in Chowder’s new room.
Having dinner with Lardo and Shitty, as Bitty retells his latest baking escapade and Shitty slams the table in a fit of laughter, Jack can’t hear a single word because soon he’s just thinking about Bitty’s lips, the way Bitty will stop and bite his lower lip in between words. And well, that leads to him thinking about Bitty’s mouth, his tongue, the oh-so-talented things Bitty can do with that tongue.
“Isn’t that right, Jack?” Bitty asks, abruptly bringing Jack back to the here and now.
“Huh? Oh, yeah, Bits. Absolutely!”
Bitty studies Jack briefly, then smirks knowingly and continues.
“Anyway, so there I was with this yeast rising and…”
Jack sinks into his seat feeling foolish and in love.
When Jack comes home from a run, and Bitty is still gorgeously laid out in bed, sound asleep, it’s all he can do to not climb into the bed with him. Jack swears he’s on his way to shower, but then gets sidetracked by the tangled bedhead that sighs into the pillow, by the way Bitty’s lashes flutter as he dreams (probably of pie and music and sunshine, Jack thinks) and he finds himself walking toward the bed ready to climb in.
But then he remembers how sweaty he is in all his post-run glory. He loves Bitty too much to subject him to his funk. So Jack sadly shuffles toward the bathroom, only to be distracted once again before making it inside.
Sometimes Jack wonders if he’s obsessed with Bitty.
Is it normal to want to be with someone all the time, to want to see them every single moment, to want them to be happy above all else? He once heard Alicia tell Bob that Jack is so in love with Bitty, if they were ever to break up, Bitty would be fine eventually – but Jack would never recover. This worries her.
It worries Jack, too.
“Is that… a pie?” Bitty asked in awe.
“Does it hurt?”
“Not really. Just tender.”
“Jack Laurent Zimmermann. That is both the craziest and sweetest thing!”
Jack beams when he sees Bitty face.
“I cannot believe you got a pie with my name tattooed over your heart.”
Jack can’t believe it either… and yet he absolutely can.
Anytime he makes a goal, and he knows Bitty is sitting in the family section of the arena, he skates past the glass and points at Bitty.
It’s silly. Jack knows it’s silly. But how else will Bitty know that each goal is for him?
He writes a love letter a day to Bitty, but never presses send. His draft folder in his Gmail is filled with confessions his heart makes but is too shy to actually say outright. One day he’ll be brave again and press send.
In the meantime, he’ll press kisses into Bitty’s lips every chance he gets.
It’s their tenth year anniversary party, and Jack has their son sitting on his lap grabbing a fistful of cake and shoveling it into his tiny mouth, while their daughter dances next to them both.
Jack laughs as Bitty walks in and tuts, as he smiles and wipes the small face before him.
“Maybe you should be paying attention to that boy, instead of looking at my legs from across the room, hmm?”
Jack blushes and nods, “Maybe if you’d finally stop wearing those tiny shorts…”
“And what, have you stop drooling? It’s almost as if you don’t know me,” Bitty sassily replies.
Jack knows this is all he’s ever wanted, all he’ll ever need, his life is complete in a way he never thought it could – or would – be, and he knows he is a lucky, lucky man.
He smiles as he watches his husband sashay out of the room.
The YOI characters are all so likeable in one way or another, that when they appear on screen, it’s easy to focus on them and not really pay too much attention to the random lifeless backgrounders in the scene.
Here here! This post is for them! I will highlight the backgrounders’ (obvious) thoughts and conversations during their scenes. Basically, point out what’s going on behind the YOI cast.
“Psst, hey Kyumachi. Is that loud foreigner the one?”
“Yes…it is him.”
“Wow. I never thought I’d see the day. It’s been 10 years now. I can’t believe someone actually bought it.”
“Yes, that tiger shirt has been unsold for so long, I never thought this time would come.
*A smol angry Russian has appeared*
-Attack - Defend
-Use Items -Run Away
You used Defend.
*Jaws theme intensifies*
That Kastuki skater is coming this way, I’m gonna be on TV! Better give the cameras my best smile.
Oh shit, he fell! Ignore it.
Hold the smile, hold ittttt.
Holy shit, his theme is love! How ballsy.
“Sam, don’t look now but that’s Viktor Nikiforov sitting right beside us! I have the biggest celebrity crush on him! Should we linger? Maybe we’ll hear him say something good.”
“Oh Lee, we’re done eating, let’s just go. It’s not like you’ll get to see the guy naked or anything.”
And so they left.
The next day, after having seen Phichit’s Instagram, Lee terminated his friendship with Sam.
What have I done with my life?
Damn, those are some nice looking blue roses. That bouquet is massive. I mean, I know the kid won, but do the silver and bronze medallists have to have such unimpressive bouquets in comparison?
Calm down Jack, green isn’t a good colour on you…Oh screw it. I’m gonna convince this kid to toss his 30 blue roses for these 5 pink tulips wrapped in plastic… that I just happen to carry around in my pocket.
*whispering to self*
Mwahaha. Oh Jack, you may have won silver for your skate, but you win gold at persuasion.
*Creepy zombie staring intensifies*
*Creepy zombie staring multiplies*
Oh you poor child. Good luck growing up with such embarrassing parents.
Do I sing? Do I play an instrument? No. I’m on stage because I’m the best at what I do:
looking fine af wearing sunglasses indoors. Hellz yeah.
Zimbits AU where your world is black and white until you hear your soulmate laugh
Jack knows his parents’ story off by heart.
Bob had been on the ice at an away game. The crowd was screaming; it was overtime. Things had been a bit tense.
And then Bob had put a puck in the net of the opposition and that was it. The disappointed home audience had fallen into a quiet grumble after some polite clapping. Many hands were slapped on Bob’s back as the team skated towards the edge of the ice. Bob had been just about to leave the rink, and then-
A laugh. A snorting, wonderful laugh, and his world filled with color.
He had frozen where he stood, ears caught on the sound of that laugh and the voice that followed.
“I told you, didn’t I? No one’s got it like Bad Bobby Z!”
It was his turn to let out a laugh and he did, with gusto. His voice boomed so loud it had seemed to reverberate around the arena, every head swiveling to the source of the noise.
Every time he told that story, Bob swore blind he heard his soulmate’s gasp in the ensuing silence. Alicia would roll her eyes fondly, stating that she did not gasp, thank you very much, and that the dreadful nickname she’d called him had been popular among hockey fans at the time.
Whatever the truth, they’d introduced themselves moments later and were married within the year. It was like that, with soulmates. Instantaneous.
Jack’s not heard that story since before the Draft. He knows people think if he’d found his soulmate before- before, he wouldn’t have done it. But people tend to over romanticize things out of habit. In the end, soulmates and laughter and colors had very little to do with how he ended up here.