Bitty is in Annie’s, bent over his textbooks and wondering, not for the first time, why he decided to take French as a language (oh yes, it’s because so many old recipes are written in French, he’s going abroad there to study food history, can’t wait for the summer; half of fall and then winter semester until he goes, but that doesn’t help him now does it) , when he hears someone clear their throat.
“Excuse me, is this seat taken?”
Oh boy.
Eric doesn’t even bother lifting up his head. “Sorry, not a girl and not interested.”
Jack: Tell us about something you’re passionate about.
I’m passionate about the treatment of independent content creators (fanfic writers, fanartists, webcomic creators, writers in general, etc). It’s one of the things I tend to rant/reblog-angrily about on this blog (sorry)
Ransom & Holster: Do you have a best friend? If so, how did you meet them?
Yes!!! She goes to UCR and I miss her a LOTI met her in PE class in 7th grade where we bonded over how stupid the presentation our school was giving us was (they were banning hugs. like... what the hell man.)
Lardo: How do you express your creativity (writing, drawing, music, etc)?
Yeah, this is exactly what you think it is. Please don’t hold it against me. IT WAS A CHALLENGE FROM @bad-jokes-420 AND COMPLETE CRACK. I think.
If I die, delete my search history. Delete my entire existence.
(this is NOT explicit)
Bitty and Jack have been together a little over six years the day Bitty walks into their condo to find Jack sitting at the kitchen table, hands folded over each other, laptop closed in front of him, foot tapping nervously on the hardwood floor. Bitty knows that look, and that an announcement comes with it: I’m being traded to Pittsburgh, I’ve been looking at condos for us, I want to get married, my mother is in remission... There’s no telling if it’s going to be a good or bad announcement, but Bitty thinks, as he cautiously steps closer to Jack, that by now they can get through anything.
“Sweetheart, is everything alright?” Bitty asks without bothering with small talk -- he knows Jack gets too focussed when he’s like this to think of anything else. He sets down his laptop bag and sits across from Jack.
“We’re getting married in eight months,” Jack says. He bites his lip.
“Oh.” Bitty frowns. “Are you having second thoughts?”
“No! No, never, Bits,” Jack says, eyes wide.
“Good...”
“It’s just.” Jack takes a deep breath and splays out his hands once, twice, before closing them in tight fists. “You know I want to take your name.”
“Yes, honey, and I still don’t quite understand why. I mean, I’m not complaining, Lord knows I can’t wait until we get mail addressed to Mr and Mr Bittle, but...”
“It’s because sometimes I don’t want to be Jack Zimmermann.”
The sunlight streaming in from the late afternoon August sun illuminates Jack earnest face as he says it, and something in Bitty breaks a little.
“But I love Jack Zimmermann,” Bitty says.
Jack breaks eye contact to look around almost helplessly. “I think I’m going about this the wrong way,” he says quietly, brows furrowed deeply.
“What, honey? Whatever it is...”
“Um. Okay. You know how I really like when you, uh, wear your bunny suit?”
Bitty is taken aback by what is seemingly a complete non sequitur. He almost wants to laugh at the strange question. “Yes? I like it too,” he says instead, incertainly. “But it’s pretty old now and you know I’ve gained weight recently, so we might have to retire it.”
“I’ve, uh, already bought you a new one,” Jack says.
“Lord, Jack. I didn’t know you liked it that much.” Bitty shakes his head, half-smiling. “It won’t be quite the same one as before, I had just cut the legs off a onesie I found at Target.”
“Yeah. It’s not. Um. Quite the same...”
Jack pulls his laptop closer and opens it up, and Bitty wonders what this all has to do with wanting to be Jack Bittle and not Jack Zimmermann.
When Jack turns the laptop around, Bitty can’t help the gasp that falls from his mouth same as he can’t stop his eyes from widening. Because it’s a bunny costume, alright, but this one is certainly... more. It doesn’t show so much skin, and is decidedly fluffy, and reminds Bitty a lot of those fursuits he’d seen when he’d stumbled across a strange corner of the internet back in high school. It’s not as bulky as those, not quite a full suit, but... close. There’s a mask.
“Oh,” he says eloquently.
Jack looks down. “Um. I know it’s not. Probably not. What you expected.”
“No,” Bitty says. His voice is higher than normal. He wonders if the fur is soft. If it will be soft against his skin. “Not really.”
Jack takes another deep breath and turns the laptop back to himself, clicking a few things quickly, then showing it to Bitty again. On the screen now is a similar thing, but this time it isn’t a bunny. It’s a dog. A husky? The mask has big droopy eyes that are precisely the same shade of blue as Jack’s.
Bitty’s throat feels a little dry. “Did you get these custom-made?” he asks, strangely, instead of the myriad of other things he could say.
Jack nods slowly, and his shoulders are hunched down, like he’s afraid. Something in that look makes Bitty push away from the table and walk around it to sit on Jack’s lap and wrap his arms around him.
“What,” Jack says hoarsely, but doesn’t finish his question. He’s stiff in Bitty’s arms but readjusts so Bitty’s comfortable anyway.
“Okay, baby,” Bitty says softly against Jack’s forehead. “Okay.”
The tap-tapping of Jack’s foot against the floor stops and his arms come up around Bitty’s waist. “Really?” he whispers.
“I can try,” Bitty says. He kisses Jack on the temple.
“I love you,” Jack says. Bitty smiles.
“I love you too.” Then, with a giggle: “Hm. Do you think it’ll be weird to bring those to the dry-cleaners? Lord knows that fur must be something else is something sticky gets in it. Maybe we should get a steamer and clean them here ourselves...”
jack zimmerman. bless his soul. he’s a firm believer of “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it” but buddy when those jeans are six years old and the bottoms are in absolute shreds they are beyond broke. he tends to stick to samwell hockey shirts and sweatshirts or shirts from obscure bands (directs u to “dresses like he’s going to rob a burger king” tweets)
basically what i’m saying is he dresses as badly as the Dad Jokes he tells and bitty’s in for quite the project when he decides to help him with his fashion choices
transbitty yeah!!!! i feel it's def brain fog related because gosh the rereading thing happens to me so much too ! i think it's to do w difficulty processing word orders n word meanings n stuff w brain fog!! thanks for replying im glad to know it's not just me :-D
"you see, these girls are now fertilizing daffodils. but if you listen real close, you can hear them whisper their legacy to you.” → dead poets society, 1989. 1/?
someone tell transbitty theyre A Gay Nerd from me also i hope they’re having a good day they deserve happiness radiating throughout their days like sunshine
