new head canon accepted

Headcanons: Old Gregg

For culumacilinte, who prompted me through the Headcanons meme with several characters and requests, so I am now doling out my responses like Johnny Segment. (And yes, I will finish all of these! Life is not allowing much writing time right now, but I absolutely will finish all of these.) This one is about Old Gregg!

Childhood

Old Gregg doesn’t remember much of his childhood. Aquatic creatures tend not to make the most nurturing and devoted of parents, and Old Gregg’s certainly weren’t; there was never anybody around to show Old Gregg how to get along or how to style his seaweed or how to play a funky bass lick. Old Gregg had to learn all those things himself the hard way, and because the other fish always kept a wide berth from Old Gregg–they knew Old Gregg was Different–it was a lonely existence, that time of learning things. Old Gregg’s therapist says this is why Old Gregg has developed “unhealthy coping mechanisms for meeting his emotional needs.” Or at least Old Gregg’s therapist used to say that, until Old Gregg made him be quiet; he doesn’t say too much these days.

But Old Gregg made his own fun, yes he did. Old Gregg saw all the beautiful things the humans gave to the water, and Old Gregg took them and loved them and learned from them all. Old Gregg made toys of the glittery needles and the plastic bags that float like ghosts, and although Old Gregg learned later that humans call these things “rubbish,” Old Gregg knows beauty when he sees it, and Old Gregg made an assessment and saw these things were good. The waters of Black Lake brought Old Gregg all kinds of amazing things–and then one day, they brought Old Gregg The Funk, and Old Gregg thinks that’s when life really began, because Old Gregg knew from that moment on that Old Gregg would never be lonely again.

Cooking/Food

Old Gregg grew up eating fish and such, until Old Gregg learned more from the treasures he found in the water and developed a taste for human food. At first, Old Gregg had been under the impression that humans must eat nothing but soggy bread and crackers, but eventually Old Gregg learned of the beauty of crisps and biscuits and sweets, in their brightly-colored packages that make strange noises and stay forever shiny. And it was a very, very special day when the water delivered a bottle of Bailey’s to Old Gregg, because the minute its creamy beigeness touched Old Gregg’s lips, he was certain that it was the greatest thing Old Gregg had ever experienced. 

And then, one day, Old Gregg discovered something called a cookbook, and in this cookbook it told Old Gregg all about how to please and impress a man through his stomach, so that he might love Old Gregg and never ever ever ever ever ever want to leave Old Gregg. This was a concept that appealed very much to Old Gregg, and so Old Gregg set himself to learning to be the best “homemaker,” as the cookbook called it, that Old Gregg could possibly be. Old Gregg did many experiments in learning to create all the dishes the book described, and sometimes Old Gregg had to make substitutions because the baking supplies in Black Lake are limited and the nearest Tesco is another village away and has a very inconvenient layout, but improvisation and creativity are the life and heart of Old Gregg’s funky soul, so he made it work. Now Old Gregg knows how to make an apple crumble that makes a grown man cry when it’s offered to him.

Every recipe mastered, every little bit of knowledge, is a step that brings Old Gregg closer to finding true forever love. Old Gregg just knows it.

Appearance

Old Gregg didn’t always pay as much attention to his appearance. There was a time when Old Gregg didn’t even know how he looked, and that was the time before clothes. 

But over time, Black Lake brought Old Gregg newspapers and magazines and seminal funk albums, and Old Gregg learned about clothing and fashion and style and the importance of having a signature look. Old Gregg would study himself in the shiny mirror shards he found in the lake and gaze upon Old Gregg’s reflection and wonder what his look should be. Old Gregg experimented with many different looks, but none of them really felt true to Old Gregg; the only thing Old Gregg felt sure about was that a pink tutu made Old Gregg feel pretty. 

But then, one day in the early 1980s, a copy of Rick James’s Fire It Up floated into Old Gregg’s possession, and from the minute Old Gregg looked at the cover and saw Rick James with his proud mane and his white leather and high-heeled boots, Old Gregg knew he had finally found his inspiration. Old Gregg studied the picture hard to style his seaweed just like Rick James would, and he searched every nook and cranny in Black Lake to find bits and pieces of an outfit to bring his funky look together: white leather boots, a silver jacket. Eventually, Old Gregg knew it was perfect when he put it on and looked in the mirror and felt right and could say with 100% certainty: “That’s Old Gregg!”

More Excessively Detailed Howard & Vince Headcanons

Because why not? This was originally inspired by the questions in this post here, and then as I wrote, it grew and grew and grew, and now there are several mini-fics embedded within this big fat slice of headcanon-ing. 

This is for culumacilinte, to whom I promised this an an incentive to write chapter 5 of Pea (which she did, and it’s GLORIOUS), and for concupiscence66, who has kicked some serious ass this week in more ways than one and deserves all the presents.

Now, without further ado…

Can they use chopsticks?

Howard will go on at length about his extensive knowledge and deep understanding of various Asian cuisines, and the philosophies behind them, and of the development of and proper use of the chopstick–but no, he can’t actually use them. He’s tried, many times, but somehow it just never works. They never sit properly in his grip, his fingers get all confused, and no matter how hard he tries, he can’t pick up anything. It just makes a big mess. He always ends up frustrated and embarrassed, so now he insists that his hands are simply too masculine and powerful for the chopsticks to handle without being overwhelmed, so he’ll stick with the noble fork, thank you very much.

Vince, of course, is a whiz with chopsticks, even when it comes to the fiddly stuff, and he wields them like he was born clutching a pair. He uses them every opportunity he gets, which Howard suspects is entirely for the purpose of simultaneously mocking him and showing off. (This is supported by the fact that Vince always smirks at Howard when he does so, his eyes glinting with–mischief? Mockery? Something else? Howard isn’t sure, but it makes him feel… strange.) Secretly, Howard is grudgingly impressed by Vince’s proficiency, but he’ll never admit it.

He’ll also never admit how distracting it is to watch Vince’s rather stubby little fingers navigate such a complicated task with such nimbleness and delicacy. Or how distracting it is to watch Vince’s mouth as he pops something into it and moans appreciatively…

No, he’ll never admit that.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

When I get older losing my hair many years from now... 64 Vince! Can you imagine that? Will Howard still ...

Oh, Howard will still need him and love him! There’s no doubt of that, I don’t think—because Howard has never needed Vince to be perfect or cool or any of that in the first place. Howard is one of the very few people in Vince’s life who DOESN’T judge him on those things. 

But it is tough to imagine Vince at 64, isn’t it? He’s so desperately afraid of aging, and even in canon, that really brings out his insecurity. Howard seems made for middle age and beyond; you can easily imagine him settling comfortably into it and finally feeling the confidence and authority that always eluded him when he was younger and trying SO hard to artificially project that. Instead of an awkward weirdo, he could settle into the things that really interest him and be an eccentric uncle type, and people might finally pay attention to what he has to say. 

But Vince was increasingly into the pursuit of youth and coolness, and since series 3 showed us how his self-worth is increasingly reliant on his appearance and outward approval/popularity, I figure he’ll have gone through a tough middle period where he’s kind of flailing about what he wants to do and what he has to offer besides his looks/coolness and who he even is without other people telling him.  For a while, at least, I think he’d be less confident, more unsure. He’d be desperately afraid of everybody abandoning him. 

It would be an adjustment. But with Howard there to help ground him, he’d make it through and figure it out and restore himself to his original Vincey-ness, albeit in an older and wiser version. Vince is, after all, terribly resilient. He’ll always be cool and stylish, but he’d probably care far less about being a slave to every trend that pops up. As long as Howard is appreciative, that’ll probably be good enough for him. He could leave behind crash diets and let himself get a little soft and squishable and maybe not even be so worried about crow’s feet, as long as they come from laughing and making Howard laugh back. Instead of trying to cover up the white streaks in his hair with black dye, maybe he could embrace it, highlight it by dyeing them outrageous bright colors, changing them whenever he gets bored. He and Howard could still go to the zoo and visit the animals and hold hands. (All their old animal friends would probably have passed on, but Vince would like to keep in touch with his roots, and one of the benefits of being 64 is that that you don’t have to worry about whether anybody will judge you for having conversations with animals.)

You know, I think he’d be okay at 64. But now I really wish I had some art of older Vince and Howard!

calamitys-child  asked:

Sleep headcanon for Howard and/or Vince?

Everybody expects Howard to be the one who snores–he just looks like he would, he supposes. Even he can see that; his legs might be willowy and sleek, but there’s nothing delicate about the rest of him.

But it isn’t true. Howard doesn’t snore; his septum is blissfully undeviated, and he never does more than softly snuffle and perhaps drool a bit, even though he sleeps like the dead. 

Vince, however, does snore, which might be at odds with the image he tries to cultivate, but doesn’t seem so unlikely when you consider the oddly flattened curiosity that is his nose. After years and years of sharing sleeping spaces with Vince, Howard has long since learned to tune it out, so it’s fortunately never been too much of a problem, though he’ll never forget the first time Vince stayed over and Howard realized that huge, ugly noise was coming from little, sweet Vince.

He’s has never had the heart to tell Vince the truth, though. He’s pretty sure Vince would be mortified. Howard would sooner wear earplugs.