“…I really, really, really wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for some extraordinary women, and I’m going to thank them. One of them is Queen Elizabeth II. She has been at the center of the world for the past 63 years, and I think the world could do with a few more women at the center of it, if you ask me.”
Claire Foy, as she accepts the award for Best Actress in a TV Series - Drama for her role in “The Crown” at the 74th Annual Golden Globe Awards onstage
i found a text post around tumblr where this guy's roommate came home really drunk and designed an airplane (with all the drawings and calculations and shit) while intoxicated and didn't remember it the next day could u imagine that with cf victor and yuuri tho lmfao
“Okay, okay, look,” Yuuri slurs, lying on Victor’s chest with a notepad held above his head and a pen resting between his fingers. “Look,” he repeats, as though Victor isn’t looking. “See?”
“See what?” Victor asks, brushing Yuuri’s hair back out of his eyes. It’s not particularly comfortable, lying like this, but he’s not about to complain. Yuuri is adorable when he’s drunk.
He had been playing some game with Phichit for a few hours, and then he’d come back to their dorm room like this. Immediately, he’d collapsed on top of Victor and started babbling incessantly about a genius breakthrough he’d had. Now, he’s designing an airplane, and is very adamant that Victor pay attention to whatever it is he’s doing. “Look! Look!” he’s insisting.
“I’m looking,” Victor promises.
“See the, um, what’s that part called? The wing! See how the wing is shaped? Like that? That helps,” he informs him, but his serious tone is betrayed by his occasional hiccup. “Listen,” he repeats.
Victor can’t help but laugh, now. “I am listening, Yuuri. I’m listening and looking. I promise.”
“Now if we just… The air resistance…” He starts scribbling formulas.
In an attempt to get him to forget about his airplane, Victor runs his foot up the bottom of Yuuri’s sweatpants, drifts it across his ankle. Yuuri doesn’t even seem to notice. “So you’re designing an airplane?” he asks, because if you can’t beat them, join them.
Yuuri shifts on top of him–it’s incredibly distracting. “Mmm,” he agrees. A second later, he thrusts his drawing in front of him, admiring it. “Done.”
As if an afterthought, he adds a few more numbers with little arrows pointing to pieces of the plane. Then, he puts the paper down on the bed and turns onto his side, his entire weight still resting on Victor. Victor wraps his arms around him, keeps their legs tangled together. “Goodnight, Yuuri.”
“You’re so nice, Vitya,” he mumbles against Victor’s chest. “So nice. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
“Who wrote this?” Yuuri asks the following morning, holding up his airplane design. Then, he pauses, and slowly but surely brings the paper closer to his eyes. “This design is actually intuitive.”
“You made it last night,” Victor reminds him. “You don’t remember?”
“I made this?”
“You’re even smarter than me when you’re drunk,” he teases, gripping Yuuri’s hips with his hands and looking at the paper over his shoulder. “Except, there is a drool stain on my shirt.”
Yuuri turns in his arms and then cringes when he sees the prominent stain on Victor’s chest. Then, though, he seems to identify his mischievous smile and nudges his shoulder instead of being embarrassed. “Well, you’re a good pillow.”
“I like being your pillow. Can I major in that? Yuuri Katsuki’s pillow. Whenever you want to design airplanes while drunk again, just let me know. Or if you want to do something else while lying on top of me…” He pauses, lets the meaning behind his words settle in. “Let me know.”
“I’m up for doing something else while lying on top of you.”
Victor perks up. “You are?”
“Like playing games on my phone, reading a book, talking to Makkachin…”
“I’m kidding.” He takes his hand and squeezes it, then leads him to the bed. “Really though, that design wasn’t bad. Remind me to show it to Phichit later.”