what in the deep-fried hell was THAT @bittleskates - Tumblr Blog

Jack is actually one of the most adorable people ever. He’s seated there at the press conference and when he’s asked who he kissed on the ice, he just blinks and goes, ‘oh…my boyfriend?’ It doesn’t even sound like an unsure answer, more like isn’t obvious? because maybe he’s thinking, ‘oh gee who else could be it? that’s my boyfriend, you idiots.’

i-am-weis

omgartplease

bittle,

i-am-weis

(quick parse redraw bc I haven’t drawn him yet)

synstruckart

This family has NO BUSINESS being this good looking, what the fuck.

>:(

lady-pei

hold up

did lardo ask jack to bring tater to the haus as a birthday gift for Ransom

omgcheckplease

Haus Couch Composition

35% dead skin cells 15% bodily fluids (butt sweat) 12% PBR 10% upholstered wood 10% “cushioning” 7% pizza grease 3% pie debris 3% an xbox controller that’s just like, in there 2% black mold 2% bottlecaps .5% organic vantablack .5% a new breed of spider

wheeloffortune-design

nursey patrol

pwney

(Uh, I was inspired)

Derek was doing just fine, thank you. Nursey Patrol was so unnecessary, he was handling his tub juice like a boss. If “like a boss” meant curled into a ball on the floor in the emptiest corner of the Haus.

“Alright, Nursey. It’s bedtime.”

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wlwfoxtrot

chowder is the friend who can’t get through a joke without laughing

wlwfoxtrot

nursey is the meme friend

wlwfoxtrot

dex is the dry humor friend

Dex: Those jeans are really working for you.

Nursey: Yeah?

Dex: They're working for me, too.

Nursey: You're flirting with me.

Dex: Something like that.

Nursey: Finally. Do it some more.

Dex: Your shoes work well with that... Shirt.

Nursey: Gee, Poindexter, thanks.

itsybittle

Poor Ransom, I too would hide in my bedroom if I got out of bed and ran into my celebrity crush in my house. This will haunt him.

17piesinseptember

the unbuttoned white shirt trifecta, you’re welcome

alphacrone

after bitty comes out to suzanne and they have a little bit of a….falling out over the Jam Discourse, jack finds himself receiving care packages of suzanne’s jam for his sandwiches, with a note that reads:

heard through the grapevine you’ve been sharing dicky’s jam with your teammates! how sweet! however, i thought they might want to taste some REAL homemade jam. let me know if those boys want any more :) or if they’re content with my sister’s mediocre smucker’s knock-off.

XOXO suzanne p.s. come visit us again soon sweetheart!

of all the challenges he thought he’d face while dating another man, jack never expected be dragged into the middle of morgan county’s nastiest blood feud

bittlesbrittle

bless you for saying morgan county not madison county

alphacrone

food truck au 1/??

(inspired by my earlier post)

Anyone who knew Jack Zimmermann would laugh at the idea of him even being able to remember the login for his Twitter account.

No one, not even his parents, would ever suspect that he checked his feed every single morning.

Jack didn’t care much for social media; he was too private a person to ever want the world to know where he was or what he was eating at any given moment. In fact, he only followed three accounts: his mother’s, the official Falconers’, and that of Li’l Dicky’s Southern Comforts. The latter was the only one he actually cared about.

See, Jack Zimmermann had a deep, dark secret – he was in love with the mini apple pies that were sold daily at Li’l Dicky’s. It was the only dessert he ever indulged in on a regular basis, and said indulgences were a secret he would take to his grave.

Every morning, Li’l Dicky’s posted their location for the day. Jack knew the general schedule by heart at this point, but some days the truck switched things up, due to weather or construction or event catering, and Twitter was the only way for Jack to know if he would be able to get his apple pie fix.

It didn’t hurt that Eric Bittle, the owner of Li’l Dicky’s, smiled at Jack like the sun shined out of his ass every time he came by. But really, it was the pies Jack couldn’t enough of. Mostly. Probably.

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wheeloffortune-design

‘Hockey boys are so dumb.’ ‘Hey, the offer still stands, babe. I take your team and you take my classes full of hormonal and angry teenagers.’ ‘At this point, I’m not sure there’s a difference anymore. They all smell.’

Georgia loves her team, but not when they interrupt cuddle time with their drama. Her husband, on the other hand, had the amazing idea of never giving his phone number to his students, ever.