Hemingway and James Joyce were drinking buddies in Paris. Joyce was thin and bespectacled; Hemingway was tall and strapping. When they went out Joyce would get drunk, pick a fight with a bigger guy in the bar and then hide behind Hemingway and yell, “Deal with him, Hemingway. Deal with him.”
[x] (via newzerokaneda)
Between this and the story about him reassuring F. Scott Fitzgerald re dick size, I’m developing a picture of Hemingway as the mother hen of the disaffected white male literary set of the early 20th century.
He probably called up Steinbeck sometimes and was like I CAN’T EVEN WITH THESE DIPSHITS and Steinbeck was all “That’s what you get for living in Paris, asshole”.
Fuck I am laughing too hard right now
Do you ever think about how Remus Lupin got on the Hogwarts Express to travel to Hogwarts and fell asleep in a compartment by himself and then woke up to find that James Potter’s son had sat down in the same compartment as him?
because I do
"My life is hard.” - fiancée, unable to find the appropriate pairings in her search for Game Grumps fanfic.
MY STRUGGLE IS REAL.
I’m having a shirtless Bigby situation