this is what you get andrew!!!

Oh my god, I️ just saw an andriel fanart and I️ literally had the thought “what is Neil doing with Aaron?!” and then I️ was like wtf that is obviously Andrew. Why I️ thought it was Aaron, I️ will never know but it brought an interest idea to me… Like what if one morning, Matt, while he’s all sleepy, sees Neil/Andrew being cutesy (in their typical ‘I hate you’ way) and be like “wtf Aaron!!” Just like I️ had but then Matt realizes it’s Andrew. Or like Nicky does the same thing when he’s really drunk. More of the Foxes getting the twins confused please!! I️ think it would really funny to witness something like that because obvs Aaron and Andrew are super different (why no one really gets them mixed up often) and they look kinda different because of Andrews arm bands and their hair is different and they might be built differently (like have strong muscles in different places aka: andrew=arms Aaron=legs) but I️ think people would confuse the two more often than they did in the books, especially if a character is distracted or under the influence.

  • Wade: Peter completes me.
  • Shiklah: Uh, hello?
  • Wade: Oh, you're nice too, Shiklah.
  • Shiklah: I'm your wife.
  • Wade: Ahhh, but Peter's my soulmate.
Everything You Need to Know About Writing Successfully - in Ten Minutes

by Stephen King
(reprinted in Sylvia K. Burack, ed. The Writer’s Handbook. Boston, MA: Writer, Inc., 1988: 3-9)

I. The First Introduction

THAT’S RIGHT. I know it sounds like an ad for some sleazy writers’ school, but I really am going to tell you everything you need to pursue a successful and financially rewarding career writing fiction, and I really am going to do it in ten minutes, which is exactly how long it took me to learn.  It will actually take you twenty minutes or so to read this essay, however, because I have to tell you a story, and then I have to write a second introduction.  But these, I argue, should not count in the ten minutes.



II. The Story, or, How Stephen King Learned to Write

When I was a sophomore in high school, I did a sophomoric thing which got me in a pot of fairly hot water, as sophomoric didoes often do.  I wrote and published a small satiric newspaper called The Village Vomit.  In this little paper I lampooned a number of teachers at Lisbon (Maine) High School, where I was under instruction.  These were not very gentle lampoons; they ranged from the scatological to the downright cruel

Eventually, a copy of this little newspaper found its way into the hands of a faculty member, and since I had been unwise enough to put my name on it (a fault, some critics argue, of which I have still not been entirely cured), I was brought into the office. The sophisticated satirist had by that time reverted to what he really was: a fourteen-year-old kid who was shaking in his boots and wondering if he was going to get a suspension … what we called “a three-day vacation” in those dim days of 1964.

I wasn’t suspended. I was forced to make a number of apologies - they were warranted, but they still tasted like dog-dirt in my mouth - and spent a week in detention hall. And the guidance counselor arranged what he no doubt thought of as a more constructive channel for my talents. This was a job - contingent upon the editor’s approval - writing sports for the Lisbon Enterprise, a twelve-page weekly of the sort with which any small-town resident will be familiar. This editor was the man who taught me everything I know about writing in ten minutes. His name was John Gould - not the famed New England humorist or the novelist who wrote The Greenleaf Fires, but a relative of both, I believe.

He told me he needed a sports writer and we could “try each other out” if I wanted.

I told him I knew more about advanced algebra than I did sports.

Gould nodded and said, “You’ll learn.”

I said I would at least try to learn. Gould gave me a huge roll of yellow paper and promised me a wage of 1/2¢ per word. The first two pieces I wrote had to do with a high school basketball game in which a member of my school team broke the Lisbon High scoring record. One of these pieces was straight reportage. The second was a feature article.

I brought them to Gould the day after the game, so he’d have them for the paper, which came out Fridays. He read the straight piece, made two minor corrections, and spiked it. Then he started in on the feature piece with a large black pen and taught me all I ever needed to know about my craft. I wish I still had the piece - it deserves to be framed, editorial corrections and all - but I can remember pretty well how it looked when he had finished with it. Here’s an example:

(note: this is before the edit marks indicated on King’s original copy)

Last night, in the well-loved gymnasium of Lisbon High School, partisans and Jay Hills fans alike were stunned by an athletic performance unequaled in school history: Bob Ransom, known as “Bullet” Bob for both his size and accuracy, scored thirty-seven points. He did it with grace and speed … and he did it with an odd courtesy as well, committing only two personal fouls in his knight-like quest for a record which has eluded Lisbon thinclads since 1953….

(after edit marks)

Last night, in the Lisbon High School gymnasium, partisans and Jay Hills fans alike were stunned by an athletic performance unequaled in school history: Bob Ransom scored thirty-seven points. He did it with grace and speed … and he did it with an odd courtesy as well, committing only two personal fouls in his quest for a record which has eluded Lisbon’s basketball team since 1953….

When Gould finished marking up my copy in the manner I have indicated above, he looked up and must have seen something on my face. I think he must have thought it was horror, but it was not: it was revelation.

“I only took out the bad parts, you know,” he said. “Most of it’s pretty good.”

“I know,” I said, meaning both things: yes, most of it was good, and yes, he had only taken out the bad parts. “I won’t do it again.”

“If that’s true,” he said, “you’ll never have to work again. You can do this for a living.” Then he threw back his head and laughed.

And he was right; I am doing this for a living, and as long as I can keep on, I don’t expect ever to have to work again.



III. The Second Introduction

All of what follows has been said before. If you are interested enough in writing to be a purchaser of this magazine, you will have either heard or read all (or almost all) of it before. Thousands of writing courses are taught across the United States each year; seminars are convened; guest lecturers talk, then answer questions, then drink as many gin and tonics as their expense-fees will allow, and it all boils down to what follows.

I am going to tell you these things again because often people will only listen - really listen - to someone who makes a lot of money doing the thing he’s talking about. This is sad but true. And I told you the story above not to make myself sound like a character out of a Horatio Alger novel but to make a point: I saw, I listened, and I learned. Until that day in John Gould’s little office, I had been writing first drafts of stories which might run 2,500 words. The second drafts were apt to run 3,300 words. Following that day, my 2,500-word first drafts became 2,200-word second drafts. And two years after that, I sold the first one.

So here it is, with all the bark stripped off. It’ll take ten minutes to read, and you can apply it right away…if you listen.



IV. Everything You Need to Know About Writing Successfully

1.  BE TALENTED
This, of course, is the killer.  What is talent?  I can hear someone shouting, and here we are, ready to get into a discussion right up there with “what is the meaning of life?” for weighty pronouncements and total uselessness.  For the purposes of the beginning writer, talent may as well be defined as eventual success - publication and money.  If you wrote something for which someone sent you a check, if you cashed the check and it didn’t bounce, and if you then paid the light bill with the money, I consider you talented.

Now some of you are really hollering.  Some of you are calling me one crass money-fixated creep.  And some of you are calling me bad names.  Are you calling Harold Robbins talented?  someone in one of the Great English Departments of America is screeching.  V.C. Andrews?  Theodore Dreiser?  Or what about you, you dyslexic moron?

Nonsense.  Worse than nonsense, off the subject.  We’re not talking about good or bad here.  I’m interested in telling you how to get your stuff published, not in critical judgments of who’s good or bad.  As a rule the critical judgments come after the check’s been spent, anyway.  I have my own opinions, but most times I keep them to myself.  People who are published steadily and are paid for what they are writing may be either saints or trollops, but they are clearly reaching a great many someones who want what they have.  Ergo, they are communicating.  Ergo, they are talented.  The biggest part of writing successfully is being talented, and in the context of marketing, the only bad writer is one who doesn’t get paid.  If you’re not talented, you won’t succeed.  And if you’re not succeeding, you should know when to quit.

When is that?  I don’t know.  It’s different for each writer.  Not after six rejection slips, certainly, nor after sixty.  But after six hundred?  Maybe.  After six thousand?  My friend, after six thousand pinks, it’s time you tried painting or computer programming.

Further, almost every aspiring writer knows when he is getting warmer - you start getting little jotted notes on your rejection slips, or personal letters…maybe a commiserating phone call.  It’s lonely out there in the cold, but there are encouraging voices…unless there is nothing in your words which warrants encouragement.  I think you owe it to yourself to skip as much of the self-illusion as possible.  If your eyes are open, you’ll know which way to go…or when to turn back.

2.  BE NEAT
Type.  Double-space.  Use a nice heavy white paper, never that erasable onion-skin stuff.  If you’ve marked up your manuscript a lot, do another draft.

3.  BE SELF-CRITICAL
If you haven’t marked up your manuscript a lot, you did a lazy job.  Only God gets things right the first time.  Don’t be a slob.

4.  REMOVE EVERY EXTRANEOUS WORD
You want to get up on a soapbox and preach?  Fine.  Get one and try your local park.  You want to write for money?  Get to the point.  And if you remove all the excess garbage and discover you can’t find the point, tear up what you wrote and start all over again…or try something new.

5.  NEVER LOOK AT A REFERENCE BOOK WHILE DOING A FIRST DRAFT You want to write a story?  Fine.  Put away your dictionary, your encyclopedias, your World Almanac, and your thesaurus.  Better yet, throw your thesaurus into the wastebasket.  The only things creepier than a thesaurus are those little paperbacks college students too lazy to read the assigned novels buy around exam time.  Any word you have to hunt for in a thesaurus is the wrong word.  There are no exceptions to this rule.  You think you might have misspelled a word?  O.K., so here is your choice: either look it up in the dictionary, thereby making sure you have it right - and breaking your train of thought and the writer’s trance in the bargain - or just spell it phonetically and correct it later.  Why not?  Did you think it was going to go somewhere?  And if you need to know the largest city in Brazil and you find you don’t have it in your head, why not write in Miami, or Cleveland?  You can check it…but laterWhen you sit down to write, write.  Don’t do anything else except go to the bathroom, and only do that if it absolutely cannot be put off.

6.  KNOW THE MARKETS
Only a dimwit would send a story about giant vampire bats surrounding a high school to McCall’s.  Only a dimwit would send a tender story about a mother and daughter making up their differences on Christmas Eve to Playboy…but people do it all the time.  I’m not exaggerating; I have seen such stories in the slush piles of the actual magazines.  If you write a good story, why send it out in an ignorant fashion?  Would you send your kid out in a snowstorm dressed in Bermuda shorts and a tank top?  If you like science fiction, read the magazines.  If you want to write confession stories, read the magazines.  And so on.  It isn’t just a matter of knowing what’s right for the present story; you can begin to catch on, after awhile, to overall rhythms, editorial likes and dislikes, a magazine’s entire slant.  Sometimes your reading can influence the next story, and create a sale.

7.  WRITE TO ENTERTAIN
Does this mean you can’t write “serious fiction”?  It does not.  Somewhere along the line pernicious critics have invested the American reading and writing public with the idea that entertaining fiction and serious ideas do not overlap.  This would have surprised Charles Dickens, not to mention Jane Austen, John Steinbeck, William Faulkner, Bernard Malamud, and hundreds of others.  But your serious ideas must always serve your story, not the other way around.  I repeat: if you want to preach, get a soapbox.

8.  ASK YOURSELF FREQUENTLY, AM I HAVING FUN?”
The answer needn’t always be yes.  But if it’s always no, it’s time for a new project or a new career.

9.  HOW TO EVALUATE CRITICISM
Show your piece to a number of people - ten, let us say.  Listen carefully to what they tell you.  Smile and nod a lot.  Then review what was said very carefully.  If your critics are all telling you the same thing about some facet of your story - a plot twist that doesn’t work, a character who rings false, stilted narrative, or half a dozen other possibles - change that facet.  It doesn’t matter if you really liked that twist of that character; if a lot of people are telling you something is wrong with you piece, it is.  If seven or eight of them are hitting on that same thing, I’d still suggest changing it.  But if everyone - or even most everyone - is criticizing something different, you can safely disregard what all of them say.

10.  OBSERVE ALL RULES FOR PROPER SUBMISSION
Return postage, self-addressed envelope, all of that.

11.  AN AGENT?  FORGET IT.  FOR NOW
Agents get 10% of monies earned by their clients.  10% of nothing is nothing.  Agents also have to pay the rent.  Beginning writers do not contribute to that or any other necessity of life.  Flog your stories around yourself.  If you’ve done a novel, send around query letters to publishers, one by one, and follow up with sample chapters and/or the manuscript complete.  And remember Stephen King’s First Rule of Writers and Agents, learned by bitter personal experience: You don’t need one until you’re making enough for someone to steal…and if you’re making that much, you’ll be able to take your pick of good agents.

12.  IF IT’S BAD, KILL IT
When it comes to people, mercy killing is against the law.  When it comes to fiction, it is the law.



That’s everything you need to know.  And if you listened, you can write everything and anything you want.  Now I believe I will wish you a pleasant day and sign off.

My ten minutes are up.

anonymous asked:

ANDREW ACCIDENTALLY CALLING NEIL CUTE IN FRONT OF THE FOXES P L E A S E

IT IS OFFICIALLY MY SEMESTER BREAK!!!!!! ajfhdajkhfdajh this is the best prompt EVER let me have this self-indulgent headcanon

  • the foxes, because they like a.) challenges and b.) making money out of these challenges, get the idea to play Andreil Trope Bingo
  • nicky starts it, purely out of boredom, as well as out of the desire to spite kevin for being too exy-focused even if the season’s over
  • he creates a card with things like “andrew buying food for neil” “neil smiling behind andrew’s back” “one talking about the other when the other is not there” “andrew hurting someone for neil” “rooftop date” “andreil going late to practice together”
  • after the whole team making edits to the bingo card, a copy is given to everyone
  • word gets around, but as andrew and neil are two of the most oblivious people in the world, they don’t catch wind of it
  • eventually, everybody (including wymack and bee) gets in on it, because the pot rises to be two grand (can you guys believe? two fucking grand for a couple’s trope bingo)
  • they make it a race of sorts - as andrew and neil aren’t normally affectionate in public (neil being the more touchy of the two, but still severely lacking in comparison to the stereotype of Normal Couples), they all have to be there at certain times of the day
  • dan clearly established the “no fishing rule” at the start but some of them can’t help themselves - they’re just really lucky sometimes
  • renee is the first to check “andrew wearing one of neil’s shirts” after she notices at their weekly sparring session
  • aaron (unluckily enough) gets the first shot at “andreil making out by the lockers” after his shift to tidy up the court
  • nicky is first witness at “one being lowkey possessive over the other” when he catches a glimpse of andrew frowning down someone at the bar for checking out neil
  • at the end of it all, they’re all left with one box blank
  • “andrew calling neil cute”
  • and everybody is just ??????
  • because andrew would never do that. not in a million years
  • only neil seems like the type to do so - but even neil hasn’t said anything of the sort
  • everybody’s panicking because they’re all so close yet so far away
  • fast forward; it’s been a little over a month since everyone’s only got that last box blank, and they’ve all been fishing
  • matt has asked, on multiple occasions, what andrew thought of neil when he smiled
  • allison has pointed out how good neil looked when she gave him her last haircut
  • bee even got ahold of neil’s baby pictures and showed them to andrew on a visit of his
  • wymack, at some point, tried asking if “cute” was really the specific word they all needed to hear (”What if he says ‘adorable’? You know Minyard gets all wordy at some point.”)
  • they all flail around for another week until the foxes’ weekly movie night
  • it happens on a thursday at neil and andrew’s room, because it was their turn
  • everyone is seated around the television, either on armchairs, the sofa, or on beanbags
  • neil coughs and pounds his chest
  • andrew gets up from the sofa so fast and gets neil a glass of water
  • upon getting the glass, neil goes “Ah.That was just a test. Thanks for putting in the effort.”
  • neil is smirking and all, thinking he’s so clever, the cheeky bastard
  • and no one is prepared for andrew’s “Mmm. That’s cute. Move over.”
  • everybody is suddenly scrambling for their cards in their pockets
  • IT’S LIFE OR DEATH AT THIS POINT, PEOPLE
  • THAT LAST BOX IS ALL THAT M A T T E R S
  • nicky is like “Shit shit shit shit shit shit–”
  • kevin frustratingly goes “Where the fuck is my pen–”
  • bee is like “That’s unfair, I didn’t bring my card!”
  • it’s dan-the-legend-wilds that gets to cross out the box first and she yells (half-drunkenly) “BingobingobingobingoBINGO MOTHERFUCKERS!!”
  • matt’s like “Babe we’re going halfsies on that right–” while allison yells “THAT”S GOING INTO OUR NAIL POLISH FUND!”
  • wymack is in the moment and is like “Dan, you’re sharing with me, or you’re out of the fucking team.”
  • renee is groaning and shaking her head while aaron is just shrugging and texting katelyn he lost
  • in the midst of the chaos and debating-who-got-it-first is andrew and neil, clueless as fuck, staring at them all and at one another
  • neil is blinking in confusion while andrew is stony-faced
  • they go out of the room and leave the madness that is the foxes coming up with another bet and searching for money in their wallets
The Minyard-Josten Pros’ Coming Out

Or, That Time Andrew Got Pissed And Posted The Video That Broke The Internet

  • Years down the line, our boys are both pros and Neil is getting annoyed at all the press conferences that get derailed by either the Josten-Minyard rivalry or whether he is or isn’t in a committed relationship as some gossip magazines have been implying
  • he’s not allowed to deal with it, though
    • he’s actually not allowed to say anything to the press that his coach and PR team haven’t approved of
    • he calls it bullshit
    • he only ever antagonized a dangerous yakuza criminal once
    • people really can’t let anything go, in this sport

Keep reading

8

❛ I strive to get what I want and people have said that I’m a monster in that department. But that is always said about us ladies who grasp for our own strength.❜

                                                –  Happy 82nd Birthday Julie Andrews 

I don’t like to talk out and make posts due to my anxiety, but y'all.

I am a native floridian and a child of native floridians. Irma is scary as hell.

But Florida is more secure than the Caribbean islands, we have a third of a continent to help us.

The Caribbean is being torn to shreds by Irma, and I’m gonna need y'all who can help to help them. The PM of Barbuda has said that 90% of the island has been severely damaged. Irma is only going to cause more destruction.

Please, as soon as supplies and manpower can be sent to the Caribbean, help them. Be the support these small countries need.

Because these islands are filled with people, other human beings, who deserve the chance to live and rebuild and be happy and survive.

The Foxes as things my roommates have said
  • Renee: (when asked if she could beat us in a fight) Well I didn't want to brag but I could destroy all of you.
  • Kevin: I have training in the morning but that's for sober me to worry about.
  • Andrew: I only like two things in life: being gay and getting into fights. And I just got done being gay.
  • Aaron: I'm going to the library. If you see me there, please pretend you didn't.
  • Nicky: oh man you're heterosexual? what a shame. what a fucking shame.
  • Dan: My mom was artificially inseminated. I didn't need a man to be born and I don't need one now.
  • Matt: You guys are my friends and I love you but you're fucking idiots.
  • Neil: I'm starting to realize I didn't have a happy childhood. Should I, like, see a therapist or something?
  • Allison: I'd invite you to thanksgiving at my family's summer home in Vermont but I can't let you see me and my family wear matching polo shirts and khakis
  • Bonus from my RA:
  • David: I want you all to consider me a friend! But also remember that I can get you kicked out so don't pull any shit.
  • Abby: No need to call 911. I have some bandaids in my room and also some vodka but don't tell anyone about that.
  • Bee: You can talk to me at any time, day or night. But I know you won't, you emotionally stunted bastards.

The first time the team sees Andrew and Neil kiss is in the airport when Neil is about to leave to go see Uncle Stuart.

  • No one trusts Neil to actually go visit Uncle Stuart
  • So the whole team (including Wymack and Abby) goes to the airport with him to make sure he actually gets on the plane he says he is going to get on this time
  • Even Aaron shows up in time to come along, although he doesn’t say a word to Neil and mostly looks completely uninterested in anything to do with Neil
  • But he does glance to check that Neil is actually headed for the right plane
  • Andrew meant to get Neil alone to say his goodbyes before Neil left, but that did not work out
  • From the moment they woke up to the moment Neil has to leave them at the airport, they do not get a single second alone together
  • They wake up to a big breakfast Nicky made specifically for Neil
  • And by the time they’ve eaten, the upperclassmen are streaming into the room while Neil is still getting ready
  • Their room is so full and the upperclassmen are looking around at the monsters’ dorm room and chattering away at Neil
  • Dan makes Neil promise to call and check in every night
  • Matt insists that if anything goes even remotely wrong or if Neil needs anything, that Neil should call him right away
  • Allison tells him, “Try and come back looking like you weren’t on the wrong end of a meat tenderizer this time.”
  • Renee wishes Neil luck on his trip and says how they’ll all miss him
  • She also keeps an eye on Andrew who is standing back from everyone else

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

so, um. if you have any particular feelings about labyrinth--specifically Sarah--uh, go wild.

WILD PEACHES  [AO3]

.

The morning after Sarah Williams defeats the Goblin King, she gets up and makes toast. She has to brush some glitter off the toaster—it withers and vanishes at the brush of her fingertips, and she stares at her hand for a long time. 

It mostly just looks like her hand. Even when she turns it over, and sees where she scraped her knuckles against the oubliette, where the shattered mirror cut the back of her wrist. It looks like she fell, or was playing in the street. That’s all.

The toast comes out burned, and Sarah stares at that too. Eventually, she slumps down against the cabinets and cries, wracking sobs that send her dad and Karen rushing into kitchen. They check her forehead for a fever, put their hands on her, and keep asking, “Are you okay? Sarah, please, tell us what’s wrong…”

Eventually, her dad drags her into his lap and cradles her against his chest, like he did when she was little. Her legs are too long to really fit anymore, but Sarah hugs him around the neck anyway. “It’ll be okay,” he says, keeps saying. “You’ll be okay.” And Sarah—doesn’t laugh, because she can’t, and doesn’t have the words to express what—how—

(None of her stories ever talked about this. What did Sir George do, the morning after he slayed the last dragon in England? Did Tam Lin eat breakfast, or did he sit there, shivering, wondering if his hands were different, having been claws and wings and scales?)

Afterwards, she leaves the burnt toast outside on the back porch. Not an offering. Maybe a reminder.

.

It’s Didymus she sees the most often, mostly because he’s the one who invites himself rather than waiting for an invitation. He comes for tea, but even if there’s no tea—which there isn’t, usually—he comes to tell Sarah stories. She learns to love poetry because there’s no escaping it with him. (She won’t read Idylls of the King until Brit Lit in college, but she ends up scrawling a lot in the margins; Didymus’ telling of events had been much more interesting.)

Once, she falls asleep like that, her hands tucked behind her head with Didymus curled up and sleepily reciting from the crook of her elbow. “So tender was her voice, so fair her face—though I don’t think he was looking at her face, my lady, pardon me for saying so—”

Sarah buries her nose in his fur. Didymus always smells of rosewater, and a crispness she thinks is just…the Labyrinth. She falls asleep trying to place it.

She wakes up with a wild fox in her bed, animal-black eyes frightened and flat, teeth bared. The fox is whining, and she’s tempted to throw herself across the room, to get away from this wild thing and its teeth. It takes a monumental will to keep herself still and her breathing slow, even; like she’s still asleep and unafraid. 

It takes her longer to swallow, and start humming one of the songs he taught her—a knight’s round, he’d said. She’s shaky at first, but the fox’s ears flick forward. It cocks its head, and slowly, the teeth disappear behind its lips. 

She almost laughs when noses at her throat curiously, butting its head against her jaw like a cat might.

Keep reading

no but seriously you guys Aaron Minyard is a backliner. just think about that for a minute. 

“What position do you want to play?”

“The one where I stand next to the tallest guy on the court and people try and run over me and i’m like ‘fuck no, back the fuck off’.”

Like i believe that Andrew is a goalie because of course he is, he’s the last line of defense, the immoveable, the one who ruins everyone’s day saying “no.” And Aaron is like “bring me the glory seeking strikers so i can shove them away and be like no not today - and if you get by me, may i introduce you to my twin brother in the goal there.” 

minyard twins =the one-two punch of “I don’t think so motherfucker” 

After Palmetto, Andrew signed on to a good pro team and played there for 3 seasons before he and Neil get married bc they’re in love for legal rights or whatever

  • The fact that Andrew Minyard was married came as a surprise to literally all of his teammates.
  • There hadn’t even been an engagement that the team knew of.
  • Andrew had simply shown up after the off season with a ring on his left hand.
  • One of the new teammates, who’d had the least amount of experience dealing with Andrew was the one to ask if it was a wedding ring.
  • “What the fuck else would it be?” Andrew replies
    • probably the most some of his teammates had heard him say since he’d started playing for them three years ago
    • Everyone sits in the lounge gaping at him until  Andrew sighed and finally confirmed their suspicions, “Yes it’s a wedding ring.”
  • The captain was the first to get her act together and cleared her throat awkwardly. “I didn’t know you were seeing anyone.  Congrats, though, that’s awesome.”
  • Andrew just like nods in her direction
  • Another young teammate asks “What’s her name?”
  • “Or his,” says the only teammate Andrew doesn’t actually hate
  • Andrew answers “It’s none of your business.”
  • Their coach is like “While I love this enthralling discussion of Minyard’s personal life, we need to focus on what I actually pay you to do.”
  • And then they go back to focusing on exy and Andrew being married isn’t really brought up again but everyone remembers
  • UNTIL

Keep reading

NHL!Bitty Interlude - Suitor


“I got hit on at that foundation dinner.”

“Oh?”

Eric rustles around on the side table and holds up a magazine featuring Seattle’s Forty Under Forty, with Novapro founder Andrew Savin on the cover as number one. 

“This is what you’re up against, Jack. Your traffic-stopping ass and piercing blue eyes versus a tech billionaire with a private island and designs on yours truly. How are we going to handle this?”

Jack tugs the sheets down to uncover his abs. When he sees Eric looking, he pushes the fabric lower to show off the v of his hips.

“Subtle.”

Undeterred, Jack announces, “What if we trick him into marrying you without a prenup, then you get divorced, take the island, and we elope to French Polynesia.” 

“You’re going to whore me out for a private island.”

“Bits, this may surprise you, but I’d whore myself out for a private island. I love quiet places with the promise of no people. That’s literally my dream vacation. You naked on an empty beach.”

“Jack!”

“You started the conversation, I’m just being honest!”

  • Betty: Honey bun?
  • Veronica: Yes?
  • Betty: *blushes* I meant, would you like one?
  • Veronica: Oh, yeah, sure. Sugar?
  • Betty: Yes?
  • Veronica: I just meant, would you like some in your coffee?
  • Betty: *blushes harder* Oh, yeah, sure...
  • [from a distance]
  • Jughead: Even I'm getting embarrassed from watching them.
  • Archie: I think I know what you mean.
the foxes as popular text posts #3

neil josten: took a DNA test and found out I’m 100% back on my bullshit

andrew minyard: people always shoot down my ideas and I’m sick of it. two sentences in and everyone’s already shouting “what the fuck that’s illegal” or “you can’t do that” let me talk dear god

kevin day: mid life crisis ? no no, mid DAY crisis, happens every day

nicky hemmick: if u can’t handle me at my worst, u don’t deserve me at my longest yeah boi ever

matt boyd: my tombstones gonna say “ripped in peace” as i flex forever in my tiny coffin

dan wilds: Girls aren’t playing hard to get…they don’t want you.

allison reynolds: the bible says adam and eve so I did both

renee walker: sometimes ‘brb’ stands for ‘be ready bitch’ so you have to be careful

aaron minyard: do you ever have the urge to tell someone to shut the fuck up even when they aren’t talking

david wymack: im adopting everyone im tired of seeing people suffer bad experiences due to their shitty parents. i am your dad now

betsy dobson: pick your battles. pick… pick fewer battles than that. put some battles back. that’s too many

abby winfield: my transformation into a bitter angry old woman is almost complete

+ BONUS

jeremy knox: i told a lady i really liked ghosts and she said “are you being serious or are you just saying that in case one is listening”

jean moreau: je suis sick of this shit

sara alvarez: my body is 80% respect women juice, the other 20% is im gay juice

laila dermott: people with the same name as me are cute but they need to remember who is in charge

erik klose: gayer than intended: an autobiography

riko moriyama: i identify as an inconvenience to the world

4

BTS: S3