#Bad Bob Zimmermann

[kennyvparse]

Kent fell in love with first met Jack when he looked like this, by the way.

[livinginsuncity]

Bad Bob and Jack Zimmermann core

[omgsweepplease]

inspired by this post from @uncleshits :

[chequemerci]

Shitty/Bad Bob friendship is that tom cardy "flirt with your dad" tiktok

[zimbits-my-love]

Mr. Jack’s Dad

to go with Alicia

[wrathofthestag]

Hey, it's Father's Day or something. Here's to Bad Bob and Coach, who are just trying their best:

Someone - "One day, you can impress… someone. You know a boy. Uh, a girl? A platonic friend you really like spending time with?” Bad Bob Zimmermann is just trying to be the best dad he can be.

Coach - He always knew Dicky was different. Not bad different, just not like the rest of the boys in the neighborhood. A glimpse into the relationship of Coach and Dicky Bittle and how Coach comes to terms with it all.

ESPY and Me - Jack takes Coach to the ESPYs. A little Coach and Jack bonding.

Atwater Market - "The thing is, for someone who loves to bake, for someone that shows love through food, finding someone with a healthy appetite is nice. Is there anything better?" Bob and Eric go shopping for dinner fixings and talk about love and family.

[the-lincyclopedia]

OMG Zine Please sneak peak

“I suppose you were destined to be a Falconer,” says Bob, smiling more broadly than Jack. Then, in a softer voice, he adds, “Eric’s right about you wearing blue. He’s right about a lot of things.” 

Jack nods, still looking off into the distance. “He really is. I’m so lucky.” 

“I’m so glad you two found each other.” 

“I’m glad you gave me that push to go say goodbye to him when I graduated!” Jack replies, focusing back on his father. 

“You would have figured it out.”

“Maybe,” says Jack. “But I don’t know that for sure. You gave me the push I needed to realize why I was feeling so sad about leaving, and what I really wanted.” 

“Wait,” says Bob, “you hadn’t even figured out your feelings until I told you to go say goodbye?”

@omgzineplease

[ronandhermy]

okay, but after learning that individuals who play in Canada’s junior hockey leagues (OHL, QMJHL, and WHL) lose their NCAA eligibility does give credence to the theory that Bad Boy 100% paid off Samwell and the NCAA so that Jack could play college hockey

[bittysovenbetsy]

I started writing this. It’s stuck in my brain. Might be multiple chapters. So excited!!

fic idea every day #7

Trope: PWP, Setting: Hotel Room, Word: Rain.

November of 1989, in which Alicia and Bob spend a rainy night together during Bob's Chicago roadie with the Pens.

Nine months later, Jack is born.

[aristocrating]

go on and hit me in the heart

chapter 7: reprogramming our history so it's perfect in my mind

"you might think sport is about winning or teamwork or performance but it's actually about The Father" - this tumblr post

happy birthday, Jack! here's your dad and your ex talking shit about you for 1.7k words

shoutout to @ronandhermy for delving into the deep psyche of Bad Bob Zimmermann with me

[omgzimmbitty]

Did you mean: Jack Zimmermann at the beginning of check please?

[slapshotsandscones]

Jack comes out to his parents as transmasc at 13 years old. His parents are so supportive. Alicia immediately takes her son shopping, because "If you're going to wear men's fashion, you're going to do it right." Sadly, that doesn't really stick, and Jack still has the horrible fashion taste of a white jock, but he does get clothes that work for him.

At that point, Jack was playing coed hockey. But a few years later, Jack's reaching the age that he has to join a gendered team if he wants to play competitively. And Bad Bob knows his son, and his drive, so he sits him down for a talk. He essentially tells him "If you want to play hockey seriously and competitively, it's going to be hard, I won't lie to you. But you absolutely have the drive and skill, and I will support you every step of the way. No hockey club is going to want to be the place that denied Bad Bob's son the chance to play, and I know you might hate that, but I absolutely will use it against homophobes."

And so Jack continues playing hockey on mens teams, with the support of his parents. And it does suck sometimes, because people aren't nice to those different than them. But Jack loves hockey enough that it doesn't matter, so he powers through.

Then the Q happens. Jack may be closer with his father, but the pressure of being a trans athlete adds to his anxiety, along with the whole thing with Kent. The overdose still happens, and Jack still quits hockey for a while.

But eventually, he comes back to sport he loves so much. He starts off by teaching. This is how he finds out that his dad has been working on a charity for queer kids to learn to play hockey in an inclusive environment. He becomes a coach for the organization, and relearns how to love hockey without all the transphobia and pressure that made him quit in the first place.

Then Samwell happens, and honestly its really refreshing for Jack and Bad Bob both for Jack to be playing competitively in an inclusive environment - the Samwell hockey team takes the "maybe more" part of the "1 in 4, maybe more" slogan a bit too seriously. It does take the rest of the team an embarrassingly long time to realize Jack is trans though, outside from Lardo. He's had top-surgery at this point, and you can see the scars: the team is just oblivious.

And then suddenly college is over. And Jack thinks that hockey is probably over for him, because the NHL isn't that inclusive. But then he gets a call from George Martin, who's seen how he plays, and thinks its time for Hockey to modernize. And Bad Bob immediately jumps right back into the fight for his son. After all, you don't tell hockey royalty that his son can't play when he's good enough to be scouted. (George and Bad Bob become fast friends - Jack is mildly terrified.)

And so Jack becomes the first trans player in the NHL, thanks to an incredibly supportive dad and a very dedicated GM. He and Bitty still have their mid-ice kiss, which still garners a lot of attention because it's two men kissing at center ice, even if everyone already knows Jack is queer.

And slowly but steadily, the NHL becomes more inclusive, all because Bad Bob Zimmerman loved his son enough to fight for him.

[dracutgrl]

Omg. So cute

Playoffs are hard on Dad Bob, nothing wakes him up, not even Jack’s favourite pastime to throw the puck, climb over daddy to get it, do it again. 

[the-lincyclopedia]

My fic for @omgzineplease is now available on AO3!

Summary: Bob takes Jack suit-shopping before the wedding.

[alittlepudge-neverhurtnobody]

kinktober #14

Pumpkin Spice 🎃 / Alien Abduction 🛸

“We don’t do pumpkin spice,” Jack says flatly.

Bitty’s mouth falls open a little. “But — it’s fall! It’s what the people want! Aren’t you losing business to every other coffee shop between August and November?”

“No.” Jack swipes a molecule of ground coffee Bitty can’t even see from the butcher block counter. “We sell specialty coffee. If people want pumpkin spice, they go somewhere else.”

Bitty’s romantic daydreams of cinnamon-and-nutmeg-scented fall afternoons staring out of Zimmermann’s big front windows deflate in a gust of cold air. When Jack introduced himself ten minutes ago, he’d only fueled those daydreams — the sweet agony of a cute coworker crush, some eye candy to make slow shifts pass faster — but now, in front of Bitty with his strong, thick arms crossed over his soft, thick middle, he just seems like a taunt.

Bitty follows Jack’s lead and ties on an apron, then washes his hands. He tries very hard not to notice while he can loop his apron strings all the way around and lace them in front, Jack can’t. 

“Have you thought about selling pastries?” he ventures as Jack silently fills cold brew pitchers and counts jugs of milk in the fridge, noting down the totals with a pen he pulls from the apron pocket that sits below the overhang of his belly. He doesn’t acknowledge that Bitty has spoken, so Bitty rushes on nervously, “I just think people like to have something sweet with their coffee, and this is really the only high-end place in the neighborhood if you’re looking for —”

Jack’s cold blue eyes snap onto him instantly. “What’s your name? Bittle?” Bitty gulps, nods. “No, Bittle. Come on. We open in half an hour and you’re wasting time.”

“You can call me Bitty,” he ventures, grabbing a rag and wiping up some water he’d spilled earlier filling the cold brew jugs. “Everyone does.”

Jack doesn’t reply. Instead, he turns away to pour beans into the grinder’s hopper, and Bitty’s teeth find his lower lip. He is definitely tanking his first shift. Ugh. The older man he’d interviewed with had been so nice! So easygoing and fatherly, with a comforting accent that Bitty thought was Canadian but wasn’t quite sure. He sure had neglected to mention that the shift manager here was such a pill.

Tomorrow he’ll bring pie. That’ll sweeten things up. 

—

Jack does not touch the hand pies the next day or the next, which means that Bitty’s got a shitty attitude for most of the week. Nobody passes up his pies! It’s — well, it’s impolite, for starters, and more than that it’s bad taste. How dare Jack be so dang cute when he clearly lacks good judgment?! 

Except then, half an hour before the end of Bitty’s mid-morning shift on Friday, Jack says abruptly, “I’m taking a break. Can you handle things alone for a few minutes?”

Bitty bobs his head. “Of course! No problem. Um, can I text you if I have any questions?”

Jack sighs. “If you have to. You have my number from training?”

Bitty bobs his head faster. He sure does, and it’s burning a hole in his pocket. 

“D’accord,” says Jack, clocking out on the register. The word rings a faint bell in the back of Bitty’s brain — high school French, maybe? Extremely hot if so. 

He handles a handful of customers on his own while Jack’s gone — mostly young professionals dressed in expensive-looking neutrals — and even manages to get a decent tip when he’s able to calm a harried parent’s wailing infant by wiggling his eyebrows. He doesn’t break anything, doesn’t ring anyone up egregiously wrong, doesn’t even spill more than a few drops of freshly brewed dark roast. When Jack reappears from his break, the shop is still standing and there are even a few satisfied customers poking at emails at the cafe tables. None of which explains how surly Jack looks as he clocks back in.

“I think I did okay!” Bitty babbles, fixing himself a to-go cup of cold brew and dumping in plenty of cream and sugar. “Nothing blew up, obviously, and I reset the brew cycle like you showed me, and I even remembered to use a separate frother for the nut milk!”

Jack scowls. 

“Do you want me to make you something before I go?” Bitty goes on, unable to stop. “I could practice some of the harder stuff! Or I could try the espresso machine again?”

“I’m fine,” says Jack tersely, and he doesn’t say anything he doesn’t have to for the rest of Bitty’s shift. When his belly settles on the counter as he pulls espresso shots, he repositions roughly and sucks in. But out of the corner of his eye, Bitty notices him palming his gut under the edge of the counter. He’s probably starving. Jack’s been here since the shop opened at six, and he hasn’t even had a cup of coffee, for heaven’s sake! 

But when he goes to the back of house to get his things, there are only twelve hand pies left on the plate — and there were sixteen when he packed it up this morning.

Well, well. Maybe someone likes pumpkin spice after all.