i think i might read for a few hours or something

Let me help

Spencer Reid x Reader (smut)

Requested: Yes. Anon: hey! I really love your blog and I was wondering if you could do a reid x reader where the reader has a wet dream about Spencer and she finally tells him about her dream after he asks her what’s wrong and it ends in smut?? thank you so much

Word Count: 3,589, Warnings: Swearing, NSFW, Oral Sex.

A/N: Oh my God okay so I went a little crazy on this one and it’s a full fledged long fic. I was writing this and I actually needed to take a break my palms were sweating because Reid is so fucking hot. Anyway, I hope you like it! Please let me know if you want a Part 2 ;)

- M xo

(Gif not mine, credit to owner)

Originally posted by hisirishsoufflegirl

Sprawled out on your bed, your naked form was being admired and touched by a handsome man. He glided his fingers up and down the sides of your thighs as he placed sensual kisses on your stomach. “God, you’re so beautiful.”, whispered Spencer. 

Wait what? Spencer? Hold on. Did you just have a wet dream about your nerdy co-worker?

You woke up in your bed covered in sweat as you tried to calm down your flustered state as you panted heavily trying to vaguely recollect the memories of the dream you had just had. It wasn’t a bad dream, in fact, it was amazing. You squeezed your thighs together in hopes of some sort of relief, but all you could do was think about the dream, which made your state even worse.

You sat there in silence as you tried to comprehend what had just happened. You’d been working at the BAU for 4 years now and you had never thought of Spencer that way. Sure he was tall, had gorgeous chiselled cheekbones and never failed to amaze you with his intelligent brain. Oh, God. Here you were thinking inappropriately about your co-worker at 3 in the morning when you had to be in for work at 7. There was no way you were going to act normal in front of him after this strange yet intoxicating image of you and Spencer practically having sex ingrained in your brain. All you could do was try to get back to sleep and hope that the flush would be over in the morning.

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Newcomers Pt2

Admiral Polts Personal journal.

It’s been about a week since the humans arrived and they now make up one third of our cerw, they have settled in well, almost too well as they have made this fleet and it’s ships their own. I have been doing research on them and although the reports are conflicting and sketchy they do all say that humans will change their environment to make it more suitable to them. Which is why the unused cargo hold is now something called a “puppy pen” and they are holding nightly events where they gather and play games about exploring a dungeon. They are also oddly easy to get along with, they take almost no offence when insults are thrown at them and if anything speak worse to one another. Their commander Captain Clerk assures me this is all natural that humans bring their home with them but will try to keep from taking over too much of the fleet.

So far the only race that has any problem with them are the Benemar, but the Humans have not risen to any challenge by them, not sure how long that will last.

On a side note I have orderd the fleet not to eat or drink the humans food, it.s just plain poisonous and how they manage to digest it is beyond me!!.

A number of humans were in the canteen eating a delicacy called “curry” a number of the other alien crew had tried some and apparently the sauce did not agree with them. It burned through one of their stomachs, luckily he survived. The third day of the human week was considered curry day and was sacred to them, along with “tacos” on the second day. Their meal was interrupted by sergeant Cathy calling for everyone’s attention.

“Excuse me everyone” the talking stopped and they looked over at her, she was clearly distressed.

“Has anyone seen Troy?”

“Your beagle?” asked another Human.

“Yeah, he isn’t in the puppy pen”

“Maybe someone took him for a walk?”

“I thought of that but he hasn’t been signed out”

All the Humans looked at each other and a silent agreement passed between them all as they all put down their food and left the canteen to go find Troy leaving a number of the non human crew alone.

“What’s a beagle?” Kio asked his mate.

After only one hour every Human on the ship was looking for him, they checked every vent, every cannon and every inch of the ship and were soon resorting to handing out picture of Troy asking if anyone had seen him. To the non Humans this behaviour was odd, this animal was not part of the crew or their squad yet every one of the Humans was distressed about it being missing.

Cathy found a number Benemar wrestling in the gym and approached them.

“Excuse me”

“Huh? A Human, what are you doing here?”

“I’m looking for my dog Troy, here’s a picture of him please let me know if you see him”

The Benemar clan leader took the picture and a smile crawled across his face, he handed it to the others who all mimicked his expression.

“We have seen this thing little Human”

“You have!!! Where?” she asked eagerly.

“Well you might have trouble finding him now” he laughed

“What?”

“We wanted to try Human food, this animal barley had any meat on him I don’t know why you keep them”

Cathy looked up at them her face blank, no emotion and her voice flat.

“You…ate him?”

“Yeah, I mean this creature makes a pitiful meal and cried the moment we picked it up, stupid animal”

“You…ate Troy?”

“You deaf yes, if you are looking for us to be sorry for eating your food, tough we are Benemar and our laws say only the strong eat”

“You…you….”

Cathy was shaking and her hands curling into fists, her face went from calm to rage in a single terrifying moment. “YOU ATE MY DOG!!!”

She lunged at him and proceeded to tear him apart.

Admiral Polt and Capitan Clerk sat opposite each other in Polt’s office, the silence between them was vast as Clerk had said something that Polt did not expect.

“Can you say that again please for the record” Polt asked.

“I believe Cathy’s reaction was justified” Clerk said with no uncertainty in his voice.

“She killed the Benemar clan leader, his chief is demanding justice”

“If he wants to try and get it he is free to, but in my eyes and my superiors she has done no wrong as under our law dogs are given the same basic rights as us”

“But it’s just as dog?”

“IT’S NOT JUST A—-” Clerk said slamming his hand down on the table but quickly calmed himself “It’s not just a dog, it is  “A” dog”

Polt nearly fled the room when Clerk slammed his hand, after seeing what remained of the Benemar he had no desire to anger another Human.

“I loved that dog, we all did and love all the dogs we brought with us, for someone to…eat one is…”

“It’s okay I understand, I shall speak the chief”

“Thankyou” Clerk said leaving and Polt called the chief to his office.

“What do yo mean you are taking no action?” the chief screamed.

“By their laws sergeant Cathy has done no wrong and was well within her rights”

“She killed one of my clan leaders!”

“Rather impressive for a Human half his size don’t you think? You saw the body, do you really want to take this further? If so I’m sure Captain Clerk would be happy for you to”

“What was it about that animal that they hold so dear?”

“I’m, glad you asked” Polt said pulling out a small folder “i have been reading up on Humans for a few weeks now and there is an interesting bit about dogs I believe will help put this in perspective. They have co-existed and co-evolved for over 30.000 years. The bond between a Human and a Dog is so strong that no words need pass between them for each to know what the other wants. They have fought battles together and have made homes together and Humans care for their dogs as if they were their own children and dogs protect and serve the humans as they are a loving parent. No other race in the galaxy has a companion quite like the Humans have dogs, to belittle or harm their companions in any way will bring their full wrath down upon you”

Polt closed the book and looked at the Benemar chief who had said nothing, he left without saying another word to quickly tell his own warriors to leave these dogs alone.

Polt breathed, another crisis averted and he could move onto more pressing matters, like this Sergeant Stabby that was visiting next month and has all the Humans excited, he worried as to why.

Breaking the fast: first day of ramadan at the Bakkoush household (Sana+Jamilla+Yousef+Balloon Squad)

TITLE: “How did you know you were in love with him?” 27.05.17 10.01PM

There was exactly fifteen minutes left until Iftar*, which meant fifteen minutes until Sana and her family would break their fast. The first day of Ramadan was always the hardest seeing as your body wasn’t exactly used to not eating or drinking for 10 hours or more. Sana had spent the day indulging in some Quran reading, she had read two of the first surah’s* in the Quran* today and had decided to read the entirety of the Quran in Ramadan. If she were to distract herself in any way from all the things that were going on in her life, she might as well do it with something that comforted her.

The Bakkoush household were in a slight panic which was a characteristic of it soon being Iftar time. Sana’s mom was busy in the kitchen finishing the dinner while commandeering the rest of the household to set the table.

“Younes, did you remember the forks?” Sana’s mother asked. Younes, Sana’s father shook his head and quickly picked the forks up and continued setting the table. Sana’s mother joked about how the one thing he always forgot, was the forks. Her father rolled his eyes in mock annoyance while they both continued joking to each other, resulting in Elias letting out a small laugh.

Sana’s mother looked over at Sana and Elias and said, “Don’t think you two are getting off the hook. Go get the nice tableware, we’re having guests as well.”

Sana furrowed her brows in response. What guests?

Sana’s mother, Faiza noticed the furrow in Sana’s brows and said, “Salim* and Jamilla are coming.”

Sana lifted her eyebrows. It had been a while since she had seen Jamilla. Ever since the karaoke night, she had contemplated talking to her, but she had felt that too much time had gone by. Jamilla had always taken care of her, but all Sana had done was push her away. She felt guilty, she didn’t deserve Jamilla’s forgiveness. But she couldn’t help but hope. Maybe, just maybe, Jamilla would forgive her and she could have someone to confide in.

Sana nodded in response and left to get the tableware her mother had asked for, and behind her steps were Elias.

“Sana,” he said. Making her halt in her steps. “What do I have to do in order for you to not be mad at me anymore?”

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anonymous asked:

pls expand on your ridiculous experiences during one semester at a fake college

okay I got a few asks about this so let me see what I can remember right now. These might not all be in chronological order

- At orientation, they were talking about the reservation near campus and all these pretty sites and this kid in the back of the auditorium goes “So uhh…heard this place might be built over a Native American burial ground?”

- The speaker: “…Let’s not think about that, okay?”

- The freshman were on campus alone for like a week and a half (other than the RA’s) before the other students and I just. The parties. Were out of control. An ambulance was called basically every night.

- I walked into the bathroom the first night there to find a girl literally dying because someone slipped something in her drink and she was having a Very Bad Reaction

- Sting- you know, the singer- ‘s son lived in my residence hall. This boy almost accidentally killed me on three separate occasions (while I was just trying to do my laundry)

- I told my family about this at Thanksgiving. Everyone in the room advised me to seduce him

- I ate breakfast in the dining hall exactly once. I got scrambled eggs. I noticed no one had brought out ketchup with the condiments and politely asked about it. I received glares from at least ten different people. Apparently people there don’t believe in ketchup on eggs.

- There were these two boys in my English class known as “The Lumbard Guys”. They didn’t live in my residence hall, but they would come over almost every night, start a party, and destroy part of the basement.

- At orientation this one kid got mad and set his shoe on fire to prove a point

- Also at orientation like??? My roommate disappeared???? And I never saw her again???

- Listen like…this campus just looked like the perfect setting for a horror film, but none of the people from the area got that. They all thought I was crazy until some comic from Comedy Central did a stand up act and said “Why the hell is this campus so creepy? I feel like I’m gonna leave here with someone else wearing my face!”. I felt way too validated.

- ALL OF MY CLASSES WERE SO FAKE

- My “math” class was actually a disguised home ec. course???? All we had were word problems that were incredibly detailed recipes or instructions on how to fix things. The teacher, who I swear to GOD was actually my Mr-Rogers-Wannabe guidance counselor from high school in disguise, spent more time trying to come up with names and backstories for the models in the text book than actually trying to teach

- I had to take a class called “first year seminar” because neither of my parents went to college. It was supposed to be teaching you about how the school works and stuff but SUPRISE BITCH WE’RE JUST GONNA YELL ABOUT RACISM AND PRIVELGE FOR AN HOUR.

- Literally that’s all we did. Just the whole class bonding over all these struggles we had gone through and getting fired up. Like, it was great, but I also ended up knowing very little about campus and school stuff bc that was the class that was supposed to be teaching me lmao

- My Psych teacher was fucking hysterical for the first few classes but then he just. Vanished. I had to drop the class

- My Fine Arts teacher just. Couldn’t stick to a teaching plan. Her entire wardrobe was scarves. She was very passionate about African masks. She had a flapper haircut. She spoke quietly, but with a marvelously forced tone of voice that I’m certain was her trying to sound impressive and hide a Boston accent. She didn’t seem to understand the year was 2014. She took us into the city to go to the Art Museum and we lost her in there, never to be seen again

- I’m not even kidding

- My “writing” teacher was my absolute fav omfg. She was this long grey haired hippie lady who worked as a nurse for the Grateful Dead and was still stuck there. She may or may not have hooked up with my uncle. I was her favorite student because one day I came in wearing a “HAIR” shirt. She wanted to take the class to England for the sole purpose of going on a Beatles tour

- But like…she did not teach a writing class omfg. She taught a social justice class. All we did was have informed debates about The Issues and listen to music and occasionally watch the Breakfast Club. Every time there was a big paper due on the syllabus, she’d just sit on her desk and go “I mean, I don’t have to cover anything, right? You guys know how to write!” Like I genuinely don’t think she knew what class she was teaching

- There was a boy who sat next to me in that class. He was deaf in one ear and used that as an excuse when he got caught blatantly not paying attention. It worked every time. But I was right next to him. I saw him playing Yu-Gi-Oh on some website on his phone under the table. One time we started talking about model cars and he pre-cummed.

- There was a boy who roamed the campus in a long black trench coat and a weird hat. I never saw his body and started to suspect he might not have one, just the theory of one. He took interest in me because I was the only person in class who ever got his Doctor Who jokes. He’d come up to me at dinner and blast quiz me on various nerd culture before running off and disappearing into the shadows. Just as I was starting to grudgingly accept I was probably going to have to eventually hook up with him for the greater good, I apparently offended him by saying I like Picard more than Kirk. He didn’t stick around to listen to my reasoning. Whenever I saw him after that he would loudly start talking about how great his girlfriend was. Everyone knew he was lying. I wonder if Kirk ever sucked his theoretical dick as well as I would have.

- I gave a football player a shout out on Yik Yak. He really appreciated it, and gave me some fries laced with weed as a thanks. That was such A Night ™ , I watched the Lorax and left the dimension.

- Every time we had dances, this creepy guy named Horace would find me and use my obvious discomfort to make me dance with him. He’d hold my wrists and shove his crotch on mine while vaguely swaying to the beat. I had to escape to the bathroom every few minutes. Finally the security just banned him from the events altogether. I can still see his face clearly in my mind.

- One night, I walked into the bathroom to find a perfect, untouched pizza laying on the floor…but not in a box. Someone literally just took it out of the box and laid it down. I’m still fuming.

- One time I was in the mostly empty library when I smelled something. I walked down the rows of shelves before rounding the corner, and found the President of the college hidden there, sitting on the floor, smoking, a bottle of vodka in his hands. We held eye contact for a solid minute. He slowly shook his head at me. I said “Sir, your house is like…literally across the street.” He shook his head more vigorously. I left the library.

- One night, I heard screaming. I looked out the window to find a girl in a giraffe costume scaling my building. People were throwing water bottles at her. I was concerned. I didn’t know who to talk to for answers.

- I was in line trying to pay for dinner. One of the lunch ladies climbed on top of the ice cream machine and refused to come down. Her friend came over and they started recreating the balcony scene from Romeo and Juliet. Very few people acknowledged it.

- Someone jacked up the soda dispenser so it was only dispensing beer. None of the staff cared enough to fix it.

- I caught my RA in the middle of a drug deal so she gave me a coupon for free ice cream

- Also side note: The soft served ice cream machine on campus was actually a frozen yogurt machine. I had no problem with that, but like, advertise correctly, you know? Nobody else seemed to understand my confusion. Nobody else seemed to understand that froyo and ice cream are two different things. What the hell.

- There were just…so many moths all over the campus. A terrifying amount. When it started getting colder I was like, finally, I won’t be attacked by moths anymore! Only for even more moths to appear. I asked a local about it. “Oh, those are the winter moths!” What the fuck are winter moths? What the fuck, Massachusetts? My friend back home grew convinced that Mothman was in the area. I was inclined to believe her. Sometimes I close my eyes and all I can see are moths everywhere, waiting for the moment to strike.

-  I’ve encountered deer many times in my life. I know how they act around people. But the deer on this campus were just weird. They’d run out at people all the time. One almost shoved me into traffic.

- My roommate gave my phone number out to literally anyone she found who mentioned they liked to read or liked Doctor Who. She was concerned I had no friends. No one ever called.

- I met a small Greek girl in my Fine Arts class. Our first day of talking, she made me climb a mountain with her so she could get to tutoring, even though I had no reason to be in that building. Her roommates kept mysteriously disappearing. She was late to everything. She’d call me randomly to get food at 1 in the morning. She kept somehow breaking phones and tvs and other electronics. When I asked her how they kept breaking, she waved it off with “Oh, I have OCD. You wouldn’t understand”. I have OCD, and I still don’t understand. One time she invited me out with her friends from high school. I waited outside her building for two hours, while the other friends waited in the parking lot for two hours, because we didn’t know how to find each other. She eventually came outside at 10:30 pm. We went to Friendly’s. She made us stop at her house so she could grab something. We pulled up a long, winding driveway and stopped in a parking lot. At the end of the parking lot were stone stairs that lead up to a mansion on a hill. She ran inside and the rest of us stayed in the car, listening to High School Musical and talking about Supernatural. When she came out 40 minutes later we decided to try and prank her. It went wrong. We almost ran over her friend’s sister with the car. They invited me to a pumpkin patch. When I started complaining about my roommate, she asked me to move in with her. I thought about the other three girls who had seemingly gone missing. I politely declined. Six months after I left the school, I received a text from her asking for notes for an exam, and radio silence after that. I can’t find her on facebook. I fear she might have gone missing too.

- One night, as I was standing outside huddled in the cold, a boy came up and offered me a cigarette to help me stay warm. I turned it down, but he stood around talking to me for a few minutes afterwards. I felt absolutely no awkwardness at all. He was a musician from Colorado. He sang a bit of one of his songs. He was dropping out of school to go to California the next week. He told me I had beautiful eyes, but his were the most alive eyes I’ve ever seen so I couldn’t believe the compliment. We talked for about ten minutes and I fell a little bit in love. He had to rush off to a club meeting, but he told me he’d rather keep talking. He gave me the sweetest smile before he left. I didn’t get his last name or number and I never saw him again.

- There was a dance on Halloween. I couldn’t think of a sufficiently slutty yet classy costume, so I just went as Osgood from Doctor Who. When I got there there was a huge crowd, but people quickly grew bored and started leaving. There ended up being six people left (myself included). We stayed because we could see the upset faces of everyone who had planned the event, but actually had one of the most fun nights of my life. We- myself, the girl from across the hall, Trench Coat Boy, his tiny friend who never spoke, and a boy and girl I didn’t know who seemed to be professional dancers- danced nonstop for almost three hours. The strobe lights and poppy music solidified an unspoken bond. I had never and to this day haven’t felt as free as I did that night. The tiny quiet boy’s smile could have lit up a city. It’s etched into my mind. We all left the dance talking about the surreal feeling in the air, as if something had shifted. None of us ever mentioned the dance again. It’s still one of my fondest memories.

- For a solid month, there was someone in a gorilla costume running around campus.

- There was a rash of sexual assaults on campus. A gang of boys kept jumping girls in the woods. The only thing the school board did was give out free rape whistles at lunch one day. I missed that day, making me one of the only students on campus without a whistle. Later that night when I ordered pizza, the delivery guy tried to start up a conversation with me about all the assaults. He blamed the girls. I took back my tip.

- Sometimes the showers just…filled up with black sludge. No one knew why.

- The girls in the room next to me were very bizarre. They always shot me odd looks and whispered to each other constantly. I couldn’t figure out if they were sleeping together or not. They never washed their hands when we were in the bathroom.

- The doors to each dorm were thick and heavy and required effort to push them open. My roommate and I made sure to lock ours every night, and would triple check it. It swung open by itself almost every night. The channels on the tv would change with the remote equidistance away from us. Sometimes I heard humming in the showers when I was the only one in there.

- My roommate…deserves a whole separate post dedicated to her, honestly.

- She would call her mother and have her do her homework for her. She blasted music constantly, and it was either country or hard rap, nothing in between. She sexiled me constantly. I once walked in on anal. She’d meet guys on Tinder, fall in love with them after a couple of days, and then bring them into the school and into our room like it was no big deal. One of them made it clear he was a budding serial killer. She was in a new drama every week. One time someone called her a dilf on Yik Yak. She was firmly convinced her cousin was blonde because her aunt dyed her hair when she was pregnant. She tried her hardest to get me laid by a football player. She was the loudest drunk I’ve ever encountered. Honestly there’s just too much about her for this omfg

- John Zaffis, the famous paranormal researcher, came to the school on my birthday. I went because I’m a loser who’s been watching shows with him since I was a kid, and I was having a bad day so I decided it could be a treat. I sat in the front row. He held an uncomfortable amount of eye contact with me the entire presentation. He was impressed with my questions. He lamented about the fact he’s always cut out of movies or replaced by priests that look like him. He apparently came to the school every year around Halloween to do a ghost tour around the campus for the students. A girl allegedly killed herself in my floor’s bathroom. He apparently always got a lot of activity around the campus. Everyone in the freshman class started wondering if the rumors about the Native American burial ground were true.

- One time in “writing” class the teacher gave us a number and then whatever song came up as that when we put our music on shuffle we had to play for the class. I ended up with “Touch Me” from Spring Awakening. Midway through the song, the teacher from another class came to complain that they could hear everything. My teacher tried to defend that all music has an important message. “Molly, dear, tell her the message in this song!” I looked around the room and at the other teacher. “It’s about sex,” I said quietly. She stormed out of the room while the class started laughing.

- There was this girl that just had the natural ability to make anything boring. I feel bad saying that, because she’s such a sweet girl, and she’s smart, and she’s gorgeous, and she’s talented, but just…every time she says anything, it’s boring. I’m still friends with her on facebook, the talent transcends to writing as well. You could be having a fun, lively conversation and she could say something completely relevant to the point and yet it would still just be boring. It’s a baffling talent, I still don’t understand how she does it.

- There was a boy who’d come into my room. He lusted over my s’mores poptarts. He kept trying to hit the high notes in Broadway songs. He didn’t understand my sense of humor at all, so we both were constantly worried we were offending each other. He cried about Selena Gomez a lot.

- The dining hall only offered horrendous food. I had pasta almost every night because it was the only thing remotely edible. If you wanted good food, you had to go to Late Night, which was between like 10:30 and 1 I think??? They set it up specifically for stoners and people leaving parties. I was frequently the only sober person there. Except for the moths.

- The chief at the pasta place found out I like theater and got like…weirdly passionate about it. He kept telling me about different theater groups in the area and wanted to know if I was in the school musical. He asked me every time I went up for food.

- There was a disproportionate amount of large black birds to trees. It wasn’t hard to figure out why we so rarely saw smaller animals

- When I told my advisor I was thinking about leaving (mostly for financial reasons but also the fake classes were preventing me from getting an education I wanted, you know?), this little old man looked around his office as if checking for people listening in, then put his hand on top of mine, leaned in close, and whispered “Oh, you sweet little girl. Run as fast as you can.”

There’s definitely more but listen. This school was weird and fake and vaguely surreal and off-kilter. I am fully afraid that one day, years from now, I’m going to be driving through the back roads and pass the place where the campus should be, only I won’t find anything there at all, and won’t be able to find any trace of it ever existing. I won’t be able to find any record of it. I won’t be able to find a record of any of the people. Every time I think about this place I just get a weird feeling, like I somehow managed to escape the Twilight Zone but left a part of me behind in the process. Be careful when applying to college, kids.

How each Overwatch character texts

Genji- laughs aloud at your response but leaves you on read if he has nothing to add. Doesn’t see an issue with this.

McCree- “I’m ur huckleberry 😘🤠 lol. Sent from my iPhone”

Pharah- Promptly and with perfect grammar. When she is sarcastic, people worry she is being serious and that they’ve angered her.

Reaper- if you had plans at 6:00 and you’re one minute late, instead of waiting a few minutes or texting you “ETA?” he just sends an angry selfie with the place you’re supposed to meet in the background and the Snapchat overlay reading “6:01” over it

Soldier: 76- still somehow has a phone plan where texts cost 15 cents apiece. Left you a voicemail that you definitely didn’t listen to. Gets mad when nobody listens to his voicemails. When someone suggests he get a phone plan with unlimited texting, he goes on a rant about how he doesn’t need it and people should just check their voicemails more often

Sombra: screenshots every conversation just in case. Half of her messages are screenshots of other messages. Nobody can reach her unless she wants to be reached because all of her messages always come from a different number.

Tracer- often sends one-word texts that require the recipient to call her for clarification. For example: “Beatles?? 😰”

Bastion- texts exclusively in emoji

Hanzo- similar to Genji but he just sends back “lol” as an acknowledgement that he has received and read the text, regardless of the appropriate tone.

Junkrat- phone is broken, has no one to text. If someone needs to contact him they do it through Roadhog.

Widowmaker- lurks in the Talon group text. Responds only when she has something to say. If she’s got a problem with you she’ll send you a vague but menacing “we need to talk” message and then switch off her phone for 14 hours so that by the time she follows up you’ve had several panic attacks and are willing to do whatever she says to avoid being in trouble. Do not be friends with Widowmaker.

Mei- double texts but is anxious about double texting. If you send her something that made you think of her she’ll respond along the lines of “awh!! cute!! 😊 thank you so much for sharing this!!”

Torbjörn- his last 30 texts are a back and forth with his wife. “On my way home. Do we need anything from the store?” “Nope.”

D.Va- sometimes gets distracted and forgets to text people back, but when she is texting, she hits “send” about 14 times before she finishes a complete thought. A series of texts from D.Va might start out “Okay” “So” “I’ve got to tell you” “did I mention what my dad said today?”

Orisa- you know that one person in the group chat who’s younger than everyone else? That’s Orisa

Reinhardt- all caps all the time. He will send you a meme followed by “HAHAHAHAHA” and then sign it “REINHARDT WILHELM”

Roadhog- sends menacing and unclear texts like “meet me in front of target in 30 minutes. we will leave without you.” which doesn’t really tell you whether he’s threatening to leave without you if you’re late or informing you that he will not be giving you a ride home from target and you should arrange your own transportation.

Winston- sends you links to 9-minute videos on YouTube

Zarya- sends context-free nonsense like “hey everyone settle a debate which finger would you choose to lose if you had to choose one finger?” and if people ask her “what the hell” she responds “))))”

Ana- sends Fareeha a cartoon where the little cartoon lady is rolling her eyes and saying “don’t even LOOK at me until I’ve had my morning coffee!!” and captions it “made me think of you!! xxx your mother Ana Amari”

Lucio- this is who D.Va was texting with earlier, and he’s very responsive to everyone’s stories. He also owns that Jackbox party game and regularly invites everyone to play. It’s always fun. A group chat with Lucio is always very active.

Mercy- incredibly passive aggressive. Refuses to engage in a text conversation unless the other person initiated it and therefore never really texts.

Symmetra- prefers texting to talking. Never makes a typo. Will respond to a text with “K.” and doesn’t always realize this comes across as “I am upset with you,” which was not her intent.

Zenyatta- this is the guy you text for advice or to vent. He’s 100% in your corner, he never takes the stranger’s side, and if you start out “ugh you’re not gonna believe what happened,” he’ll respond “👀”

you know what would have been great? if ron got sorted into slytherin.

imagine– we have this kid on the train, the first friend harry meets, with his corned beef sandwiches and smudged nose. ron is eleven years old and he wants gryffindor, because he’s a weasley and that’s what always happens. but it doesn’t happen.

what a way to redeem slytherin house– or, god, at least complicate it. because ron is petty. he is mean and sharp and ambitious and jealous– and he is loyal to the ends of the earth. he is all those things, and he is and always has been good.

potter becomes before weasley in the alphabet, so harry says not slytherin please and gets told might as well be gryffindor. percy and fred and george are all sitting there in red and gold, ruffling the already-ruffled hair of the boy who lived, smug, and then ron sits down and the hat spits out slytherin!

c'mon it’d be fun. just imagine–

  • the weasleys freaking out– but even that first christmas molly sends him a sweater in beautiful green and silver.

  • snape taking points from gryffindor when ron breaks rules or mouths off. “i’m in your house.” “hm, couldn’t tell which weasley it was…” /drifts away

  • sitting with harry in potions and in flying– whatever classes they happen to share. meeting up to study. scarfing down their breakfasts at separate tables so they can go hang out in the empty classrooms before the day starts. hermione reads while they play exploding snap.
    • the trio signing up for all the same electives third year. this friendship being something they earn and work for; not just the one that looked easiest. (not to bash canon ron&harry, the bros to end all bros, but by putting this very obvious obstacle between them– it makes it that much clearer to the reader that this is a love worth fighting for, because they’re fighting for it).
    • ron being jealous that harry and hermione get to share this house, this home, these hours, while he’s stuck with malfoy and parkinson and goyle– because that would eat him up some days, some months, this insecure kid who’s been the last at everything all his life. this kid who always leaves and always comes back.

  • ron, who constantly compares himself to his brothers– not as smart, not as popular, not as good. one more nail in that coffin, here, yeah? he’s not a prefect, not a quidditch star, not a troublemaker– and even when he becomes those things, someone else has always gotten there first
    • well, i guess he got to this house first at least

  • ron still snaps at snape in potions, after hermione’s been ignored three times, “you know, sir, i think hermione might know the answer.” he still pulls the bars off harry’s window with a stolen, flying car. he still shows harry around the burrow shyly, not knowing what a wonder a warm home is. he still stands up in the shrieking shack as best as he can with a broken leg and tells a mass murderer that if he wants harry he’ll have to go through him first. 
    • ron weasley is a lot of things, but one of them is absolutely a true friend.

  • in their second year:
    • when everyone calls harry the heir, they eye ron at his side and sniff.
    • when hermione lays petrified in the medical ward, ron sits at her side and reads her homework assignments aloud and thinks my house this was my house
    • when ron hugs ginny’s damp, shaking frame after the chamber, ron says sorry and sorry and are you okay and i’m so sorry and ginny calls him an idiot.

  • the trio spends more time in the library with hermione, since ron can’t come to gryffindor tower to study, and homework remains a thing that has to happen. fred and george constantly try to sneak him into the tower anyway. 
    • “c'mon, ronnykins, you belong here, you deserve it, no one’s gonna fuss, it’s your BIRTHRIGHT,” and ron fusses and rolls his eyes at them
    • and then in fourth year in one of those periods where he’s not talking to harry and harry’s not talking to him– he just snaps at the twins
      • because it’s not, alright?
      • not his birthright, not his house, and maybe no one would fuss if he snuck in, maybe no one would care, and that makes it worse not better, because then he’s just that weasley who should’ve been gryffindor
      • and isn’t
    • (and harry overhears this caterwauling, feels his heart fall to his toes, and goes and awkwardly asks ron if he wants to go a few laps on his firebolt). 
    • (because, god, harry-the-chosen-one, harry-in-the-cupboard-under-the-stairs, harry-who’ll-save-us-all– he knows what it’s like to have should have beens on your shoulders, and he knows what it’s like to not be wanted).

  • ron cheers for gryffindor during quidditch matches in those first few years, and sits with hagrid and hermione and neville. harry’s seeker, and fred and george are beaters, and ginny becomes chaser eventually, and honestly screw the slytherin team. they have each and every one of them said disparaging things about ron’s mother.
    • harry and hermione badger ron into trying out for keeper fourth year; he and harry have been practicing on the quidditch pitch because its a non-library-shaped place to hang out where both of them are allowed. ron makes the slytherin roster, and malfoy grudgingly provides ron a team broom after the captain chews him out for a bit.
      • “he may be a weasley, but he’s our keeper, don’t you want to win, draco”
    • but the sort of things they spit in the locker room, the words the players hiss or snigger, the slurs that come easy to their tongues– ron would like to say that he considered just walking out of the cesspit, but instead he snipes and sasses and shouts and sometimes tries to spell slugs at the worst of them. 
      • it doesn’t do much, that one irritated voice of protest– except that it does. and he’s got a new (hand-me-down) wand, after the gilderoy fiasco, so the slugs even come out the right end.
    • fred gives him a black eye with a bludger one time (though ron does manage to block the quaffle) and molly sends a howler to gryffindor table with the morning post. (“RON DID YOU TATTLE”) (“IT WAS CLEARLY PERCY, FRED, SIT DOWN”)
      • (the weasleys often have family conversations across the great hall, with hufflepuffs and ravenclaws covering their ears long-sufferingly between them)

  • in the lake, it’s still ron hanging there in the water, still and bloated. it’s still harry’s heart that stutters in his chest, for all it’s just a game, just a game, just a game, right?

  • ron listens hard and tries to talk himself out of fist fights, all that next year in the slytherin common room as they read aloud rita skeeter articles.

  • when hermione calls dumbledore’s army to its first session in that pub, there are green scarves in that crowd– ron and one of the beaters who ron’s gotten to help glare to rest of the slytherin quidditch team into submission.

  • ron beats draco to being prefect (i think i remember it was dumbledore and not mcgonagall who seemed to award prefect status– snape doesn ’t get a say).
    • percy is SO PROUD, as usual, but so are fred and george. “did you see the little malfoy git? green with shame, my god.”

  • when harry has the dream about sirius, ron isn’t there to wake. but when draco’s pulled out of bed to be a professional bully– er, i mean inquisitorial squad member– ron follows at a careful distance and curses draco from behind. 
    • they ride thestrals over london. harry finds the prophecy and ron thinks about the sorts of things that get decided at your birth.  
    • sirius black was a son of slytherin who had a lion living in his chest that he couldn’t hide away. 
    • ron was meant to be gryffindor, and through a haze of injury and fear he watches sirius die just out of harry’s reach.

  • just imagine: ron with his temper and his sharp words and his fierce loyalty. ron who looks into the mirror of erised and sees house cups and prefect badges and ambitions earned– he could belong in slytherin. there is nothing wrong with wanting things, and he wants them so bad.

  • there are so many reasons to fight a war, and so many ways. harry and his sacrifices, his loving resignation. hermione’s good right hook and bottomless bag of supplies. luna, brilliant and a bit batty. lee jordan’s radio and mcgonagall’s burning patience and brittle, certain bones.

  • just imagine: when the last battle comes, there is a slytherin on the field who is not snape.

  • when draco and his parents walk away, in that last battle, ron–
    • who slept in the same dormitory as the boy for six years
    • who heard draco’s nightmares and saw him paling and desperate all sixth year
    • who is as pureblooded as lucius’s spoiled whelp
    • who remembers grimacing at the thought of squibs
    • who has known magic all his life
    • who spotted draco penning letters home to his mother every sunday and hiding them when the other boys could see–
    • ron sees them going.
      • he sounds no alarms. he says no farewells.
      • he turns back to his friends, and his fight, and lets them be.

  • just imagine: when harry kneels on the train platform and his second son asks him “but what if i get sorted slytherin, dad?” harry can say, “the bravest man i ever knew was in slytherin house. whatever you are, wherever you go, we’re going to be so proud of you." 
    • and they can both gaze over to where ron is squawking beside his daughter’s trolley of luggage because crookshanks (who will live to be forty eight million years old) has latched onto his shins with a violent fondness.

episode one :: Yuuri Katsuki is the most beautiful disaster that Victor has ever met in his entire life, and Victor has built his empire on beautiful disasters.



Victor isn’t sure he knows what he’s doing anymore by the time casting rolls around for season 22 of The Bachelor.  Okay, he knows what he’s doing, but it’s all autopilot.  He’s got a dossier of Chip Vanderbones and Tad Hardbeefs to look at, but is almost resigned enough to just give into Lilia and Yakov’s suggestion to cast Georgi Popovich, notorious histrionic Bachelorette season 10 runner-up, as this season’s lead out of sheer notgivingafuckness.  At this point Victor isn’t even sure whether he really wants to be in this game at all anymore, but what the hell else he would do besides sleep for a thousand years if he retired before thirty?  

And then Phichit Chulanont comes into his office to distract him during a conference call with Yakov to tell him a story about his friend who just crashed and burned at the Figure Skating Grand Prix Finals, and everything click click clicks into place: redemption narrative.  Twenty young men are going for the gold, but only one can win the heart of Yuuri Katsuki– he can hear the promos, see the character arcs unfold, and the narratives rush through him like they’ve always lived inside him and it feels–exciting.  

“Phichit,” Victor says suddenly, interrupting Phichit and grabbing him from across his desk.  “We have to get him.  He’s our next bachelor.”

“Oh my God,” Phichit replies, eyes widening, and then again, “Oh my God.

“Do you think you could get him?” Victor asks.  He’s seeing figure skating dates, thematic destination shoots in Chile and Finland and Iceland, “The Bachelor: Love on Ice” title screen flashing over two champagne glasses on the lip of an outdoor hot tub.  

“Do I think I can get him,” Phichit repeats dismissively, looking the closest to offended that Victor has ever seen him.  “What do you think you hired me for, Nikiforov.”

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From the Other Side of the Signing Table

“I don’t know what to say to you,” the girl said. “Um, thanks, I guess.”

“Thanks is good,” I replied.

Silence stretched, punctuated only by the scuffle of a Sharpie on a page.

We were in the same boat, the girl and I — both at a book festival, both at the end of a long day full of people, both in a signing line that had been going on for an hour already. There was only one big difference between us: she was on one side of the table, and I was on the other. Sometimes that difference seems to matter more than others.

Before I was published, I read a lot of accounts of what it was like to have your work out there, but I never read anything about what it was like to have yourself out there. I suppose I never really thought about it, to tell you the truth. I thought you wrote a book and hopefully people liked it and if I thought about book tours at all, I figured they involved standing on a stage for a bit before disappearing into a rental car. The truth, however, is that now — ten years and fifteen novels in to my career — most of my hours in front of people are spent in a signing line. Forty minutes on a stage or behind a table for a panel, and then two or three hours meeting a few hundred strangers. I had no idea what it would be like.

This is what it’s like.


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Wanna park and act like an a**hole? Enjoy paying thousands.

Years ago, I worked as a security officer in a high-traffic tourist area (graveyard shift).

One of my responsibilities was to make sure my building’s loading/unloading zone is kept clear because at all hours of the day we’ve got vehicles coming and going for people going to meetings, visitors, tourists, cabs, etc. The curb is painted white and marked in big bold letters ✶ LOADING AND UNLOADING ONLY ✶ NO PARKING ✶. At the end of the zone there was a single handicap parking stall painted bright blue.

Now the building I worked at was nearby a few large night clubs, so every Friday and Saturday the area would be crazy busy with drunken fighting, vomiting, occasional alleyway sex, etc. All night long there’d be cute girls milling around in skimpy outfits, so the job had its perks too.

Clubbers would take advantage of my building’s valet parking service and pay to park in our garage before heading out to one of the clubs across the street.

Some clubbers would think they could get away with parking in our loading zone all night. My coworkers and I would aggressively patrol the area in the earlier evening hours and advise as many people as we could so they’d leave and avoid getting a ticket. It was also better for us if they left, because when there were too many vehicles parked out front, traffic would become a complete clusterf*ck regardless of the time of day.

Most people would be grateful for the information and leave. Occasionally, some douche would laugh in our faces, say something about pigs or rent-a-cops or whatever and leave their car anyway. In those cases, we’d call our city’s parking enforcement and they’d get a $90 ticket for their troubles.

One Saturday night, after finished a round of patrols, I went to take a leak. On my way back out, I walked past Dispatch and my buddy calls me over to the surveillance bank.

“Hey bro, you got one out front.”

I turned to the grainy feed just in time to see a piece-of-junk ‘97 BMW sloppily parking in front of our building. I murmured that I’d go out and advise the driver, but before I could leave, the driver exited his vehicle.

My buddy and I watched in silence as the driver, a young black male adorned with flashy cheap bling, hiked his pants up at the crotch and blocked the path of a couple girls walking by. He started hitting on them in the slimiest way possible, even trying to grab their hands and asses at one point, staring shamelessly at their tits while he was schmoozing them. He took out his phone and shoved it at them, presumably asking for their numbers.

Eventually the girls were able to dodge his grabbers and ran off toward the club across the street. He repeated this routine several more times with various groups of girls walking by, even taking out a small bottle of vodka from his back pocket and offering swigs. With each rejection, he’d get angry and presumably cuss out the girls as they hurried off (our cameras didn’t pick up audio but this seemed a reasonable assumption).

I sighed and looked at my buddy.

“Well, I guess I’ll go talk to him.”

I made my way out to the front and approached him just as another group of girls ducked away from him. I called out to him. He turned and stared at me blankly.

“Hey, man, just wanted to let you know that this zone is for loading and unloading. Normally it’s not a big deal to park for a bit but if everyone does it on the weekends, traffic gets backed up pretty bad here.”

The douche looked at his vehicle, then at my badge.

“F*CKYOUB*TCHASSN☻☻☻☻I'LLF*CKYOUUP. PIGASSWANNABECOPMOTHAF*CKA.”

I looked at my watch. It was about 10:30PM. I continued my spiel.

“Parking enforcement here is pretty strict. You should move your vehicle or you might get ticketed–”

“F*CKYOUN☻☻☻☻SUCKMYD*CK. BETTERNOTTOUCHMYSHITN☻☻☻☻ILLF*CKYOUUPN☻☻☻☻.”

“Have a good night sir.”

He flipped me off and went across the street, where he was promptly denied entry for dress code violations. He cussed out the bouncer and wandered off down the block. I walked over to his vehicle and saw that it was parked crooked, the rear of the vehicle partially blocking the lane of traffic. Half of his vehicle was in the white zone, the other in the blue zone. I key’d up my radio.

“8million to dispatch.”

“8million, go ahead.”

“Can you call parking enforcement for this vehicle? Lemme know when you’re ready for the plate.”

Fifteen minutes later, the parking officer arrived. He looked at the vehicle and promptly issued a $90 ticket for parking in the white zone and a $900 ticket for parking in the blue zone without a permit.

I thanked the officer and went back inside to have a snack.

A couple hours later, two of the local cops stopped by to say hi. As Officer Morris and his partner walked over, Dispatch radio’d me.

“Hey 8million, is that Jones and Morris?”

“Sure is.”

“You gonna do what I think you’re gonna do?”

“Yep.”

Officer Jones and I lit up our cigarettes as Officer Morris looked on disapprovingly. We all smoked and chatted for a bit, then I casually motioned over my shoulder at the BMW.

“Hey, Jones, check out the parking job on that piece of shit.”

We all walked over to the corner and looked at the vehicle, the two tickets stuck on the windshield flapping in the wind. Officer Morris grabbed one of the tickets, read it over and looked at me.

“What’s the story here?”

I told them what happened and the driver’s response. Officer Jones and Morris looked at each other.

“8million, you got the time?”

“Yeah, it’s… 12:27AM.”

“Well it’s a whole new day now isn’t it?”

Officer Morris proceeded to write another $90 ticket for the white zone, then another $900 ticket for the blue zone. He paused for a moment after finishing the second one.

“Hey Jones, looks like this vehicle is parked more than twelve inches from the curb. What do you think?”

“Sounds about right.”

Officer Morris wrote another ticket for $120 and slapped it on the pile of tickets on the windshield. I shook both officer’s hands and they left to continue their patrols.

The next few hours of my shift went by fairly quickly. Around 5AM, Dispatch scared the hell out of me.

“HEY 8MILLION, ARE YOU STILL ON THAT CALL?”

“Negative, I just finished clearing it.”

“RESPOND TO DISPATCH ASAP.”

I ran down to the surveillance bank, where my coworkers were all gathered and laughing their asses off. Sunday was street cleaning day and the BMW was getting ticketed again by parking enforcement.

After that, we all stopped by Dispatch every 5-10 minutes to see if the owner had returned. Finally, at about 6AM, douchebag came stumbling up the block, looking completely worn out. His formerly-white t-shirt was stained and dirty and it looked like he’d lost at least one fight.

We watched in suspense as he looked at the pile of tickets crammed together on his windshield and slowly removed them. He stood there, pants sagging below his knees, shuffling through each ticket as if he were a toddler with a handful of Pokémon cards.

With a look of abject defeat on his face, he got into his vehicle and drove off. The whole room erupted in laughter and high-fives.

As the laughter died down, I picked up the office phone and started dialing. My coworkers eyed me curiously. I put the call on speaker just as the call connected.

“9-1-1, what is your emergency?”

“Yeah, hi, I’d like to report a possible drunk driver. I have the vehicle and driver description when you’re ready.”

In honor of my 5th semester in a row of all A’s (hell yeah boiiiii) I’m going to make this post. I don’t know how I did it because I am honestly so lazy.

  1. Grades are reflective of your work ethic and your ability to strategize, not your intelligence.
  2. Be real with yourself. Are you sure you are ready to commit to perfect grades? Are you ready to work, day in and day out, when it sucks and classes are boring and hard? Are you ready to feel satisfied for all of the hard work you put in? If the answer is yes, congratulations. You are on your way to becoming a straight-A student.
  3. Prioritize classes. Not every class requires the same amount of work, and you should find out the hardest classes early on in the semester. These will take the most time, and you will have to spend extra time and effort to get a good grade. When choosing classes, make sure you will be able to handle them. Make sure you will be able to ace all of them, at the same time. That being said, don’t shy away from hard classes. You have to challenge yourself. Take a few AP’s. They are worth it.
  4. Make friends with teachers/professors, especially the ones that teach hard subjects. I am very close with my chemistry professor, and this has proved invaluable because I am able to get free tutoring, as well as a great recommendation letter for college apps.
  5. Have other goals. You need to do something that is not studying to keep you productive. I would highly recommend joining a sports team or club. I exercise (usually running and weightlifting) at least 2 hours a day, usually more. Playing 2 sports made me more healthy, social, and productive. Running calms me down, and weightlifting makes me feel strong. Do whatever makes you feel good, as long as it’s healthy.
  6. Learn to manage time well. How do I play 2 sports, get straight A’s, have a studyblr, and have time to spare? The answer is that I take care of myself well. I go to bed at 10:30 or 11 each night so I can get 7 ish hours of sleep. I do homework during lunch or in class so I don’t do it at home.
  7. Slack off. Yep. I said it. I complete assignments strategically, spending the most time on things worth the most points. Things that will only take a few minutes can occasionally be done in class right before the teacher is collecting homework. I have done this all too often. That being said, small assignments really do add up so make sure you do an acceptable job and turn them in on time.
  8. Turn something in. It is ok to sometimes slack off in quality, but if something is due, you better turn something in. Something is better than nothing. Getting extensions on assignments for no reason will make the teacher think you are lazy, or don’t care about their class. Every single essay and worksheet does not have to be your best work, but make sure you fill the basic assignment requirements, and it should be enough. 
  9. Extra. Credit. Some classes don’t offer this, but if they do, just freaking do it man. Knowing you can miss an assignment because you did extra credit earlier is the best feeling, especially when doing that assignment would have meant losing sleep. 
  10. Plan (sort of). I have a bullet journal where I write important assignments down. As I said, there are some assignments not worth your time that you can half-ass. The ones I write down are the ones I need to do well. If you write down every. last. assignment. you will burn out and stop planning altogether. 
  11. Sometimes, go above and beyond. You know that subject you really like? With an awesome teacher? Spend time on it. Make your project extra beautiful, and read ahead in the textbook. Watch video lectures online, and maybe even make a studyblr post about it. Your extra work might not be turned in for credit, but it will make you feel a whole lot more knowledgeable on the subject. Do this for classes you hate, too. Maybe it’s not as bad as you think it is. The extra effort might allow you to see the beauty in a subject you used to despise. 
  12. Be real with yourself (again). This past semester, I had a B+ for a few months in a subject I really love. I wasn’t mad, and I didn’t stress about it, because, honestly? It doesn’t really matter. Eventually I brought the grade up again, but it would be fine to me either way. 
Happy Tuesday.

I’m calling it “Yurio Catches Puberty” as a working title. (PG for swearing and puberty.) (Warning for body image stuff, very minor.) 

***

“WHEN WILL THIS BE OVER?”

The scream of anguish from the rink’s locker room shower made Yuuri look up sharply. He’d only arrived in St. Petersburg yesterday, but this couldn’t be normal, even if nobody else seemed to be paying the slightest attention.

“AUGH!”

It was definitely Yurio.

“Yurio?” he started to ask, but Georgi clapped a hand over his mouth.

“Don’t engage,” he hissed.

Yuuri looked at him, wide-eyed.

“What’s going on?” he whispered, as Yurio began a steady, at least quieter stream of cursing in Russian, then English, then Japanese that Yuuri definitely hadn’t taught him.

“Puberty,” Georgi said.

Yuuri blinked. “Puberty?” he asked.

Georgi gave him a disgusted look. “Of course,” he mumbled to himself. “The golden boy didn’t suffer puberty…”

He wandered off, now also cursing, and Yuuri had ten seconds of silence before Yurio kicked the shower door open and strode out, towel around his waist.

(There is a readmore below! Read more!)

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Ace Keith Headcanons
  • He didn’t know it back then. He didn’t care about it. Ignored all his classmates who were passing around lewd magazines and just continued browsing why on earth pluto was no longer a planet. The injustice! 
  • When his classmates at the Garrison asked him if he ever had a girlfriend 
    “Never had one.” 
    “A boyfriend then?” 
    “Nope. None of that either.”
    “But why?”
    “I was not aware it was a requirement, Charles.”
    Others thought he was a snob and a bit snarky after that.
  • At night he just read books. Sometimes he drew things like spaceships and alien warships. He loved outer space and he was going to be an ace pilot and be the youngest pilot to go on a mission. His roommate gave up inviting him to parties to meet possible mates. “Have fun.” “You too.”
  • When he wanted to be alone, he snuck up to the rooftop just so he could trace the constellations and get more inspiration for his drawings. He liked the quiet and the natural light the moon gave him to see what he was drawing on his skethpad.
    “What are you doing in a place like this at this hour, cadet?”
    Keith looked up to see the one and only Garrison Golden Boy.
    “I could say the same for you, Sir.” He got back to drawing.
    Shiro sat beside him and just watched him draw in silence. 
  • It became a thing. Shiro finding Keith on the rooftop, reading or drawing. They usually didn’t even talk, until Shiro broke their usual silence.
    “How come you’re always up here? Why are you not with your friends? It’s not everyday you get to be in the city and have fun.”
    Keith shrugged. “Hmm. Not really my type of fun or thing.”
    “Huh. Interesting.”
  • They became friends after that. Their feet dangling on the rooftop as Shiro would tell Keith a joke or something that happened to him in class. Keith didn’t draw all the time, he’d have the sketchpad on his lap and just laugh and tell Shiro things too.
  • Their conversation led to talking about crushes one time, because that topic was always interesting.
    “Had my first crush back in elementary,” Shiro laughed. “A bit silly to be honest. Then she liked me back and we became a couple.”
    “Wow. That’s so… young.” Keith chuckled.
    “How about you? Who was your first crush?”
    Keith furrowed his eyebrows. “I’ve never had one.”
    “What?” Shiro asked, a bit scandalized at the revelation. “No way!”
    “I just haven’t seen anyone that way, I guess. If it happens, then it happens. But to be honest, I don’t think anyone will even like me since I’m not into that or see anyone like that.” Keith forced a fake cough. 
    Shiro was silent for a while and then he smiled. “Keith, do you know the word for that?”
    “The word for what?” Keith looked confused.
    “The word for what I think you are,” Shiro smiled fondly. “It’s asexual. Or ace for short. It’s basically someone who doesn’t experience sexual attraction.”
    Keith blinked. “Oh.” Then he smiled. “I like that. Ace. What a nice word.”
    “It is. You’re literally an Ace Pilot.” Shiro laughed.
    “Oh, shut up.” Keith nudged Shiro playfully, causing his skethpad to fall.
  • The next few months they were on the rooftop, Keith started the talk.
    “I think I have my first crush now.”
    “Oh really? Who is it?” Shiro raised an eyebrow, curious.
    “It’s basically someone you admire, right?”
    “Yeah.”
    Keith nodded. “Okay, I’m sure it’s a crush then.”
    “Keith! Who is it? Oh my god. Don’t kill me this way, man. I must know!”
    Keith laughed. “Oh, I’m pretty sure you’ll know one day, Shiro.”
    Shiro sat back, thinking that was probably enough of an answer. “Okay, so you have this crush on someone now. What do you want to do?”
    “I might want to hold his hand one day. If he’d let me.”
    Shiro smiled at his friend. “I hope you get to hold that boy’s hand, Keith.”
  • A few months later, Keith asked Shiro if he could hold his hand.

Iris and Lillium’s designs for mine and @i-read-good-books   Android AU collab!! (VERY NieR:Automata inspired by my (very annoying) requests.  hahaha ) 

Text by her:

—————————————————————————————————–

“from dusk til dawn

getting to know each other”


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I’ve been reading a lot of classic rock (McLennon) fanfic and I’ve noticed that while you’re all very talented writers, a lot of you just don’t know much about LSD. So I thought I’d make a post with all the basics:

-LSD is also referred to as Acid (dropping acid, tripping acid) blotter, Jesus, microdots (dots), zen, California sunshine (cali), heavenly blue, tab, dragon, window pane, and paper mushrooms

-people who do a lot of LSD are called acid heads, acid freaks, cheer leaders, and day trippers

-LSD and PCP (also known as angel dust) have some similar effects, but are different drugs with different highs. Make sure you’re not actually describing PCP when writing acid trips!

-LSD is completely odorless and tasteless

-LSD is most commonly taken by soaking a little piece of paper in it and holding it under your tongue, and dropping it into a sugar cube and letting it melt on your tongue.

-it’s extremely dangerous to mix LSD and other drugs. But a lot of people mix it with xanax (it is dangerous tho. Keep that in mind while writing)

-LSD takes 30 minutes- an hour to completely set in

-it’s not like weed where the high only lasts like 2 hours. LSD lasts from 5(at the VERY least) to 12 hours and it’s a VERY intense high

-it takes another hour or two to come back down. This time isn’t very pleasant. Everything looks like it’s made of plastic and you don’t feel real. You’re not actively hallucinating but things feel off. It’s not uncommon to have an anxiety attack

-the first time you trip on LSD, the coming down part might take up to a few days. But by the second time it probably won’t

-not every trip is a good trip

-if you take LSD while unhappy or anxious. there’s an 80% chance you’ll have a bad trip. So it’s not realistic for your muse to drop acid when sad to cheer up

-bad trips are REALLY BAD good trips are REALLY GOOD

-you can have a good trip that turns bad. And you can have a bad trip that turns good (but it’s less likely)

-music sounds really fucking good on LSD

-you become really sensitive to touch and texture. Even a brush of fingertips on your arm is electrifying. I remember stroking my girlfriends hair and it felt like water running between my fingers and pooling in my hand.

-getting an orgasm might literally send you into another universe

-any hallucination you have will be a reaction to something around you. For example if you’re staring up at a starry sky you might feel yourself swimming through the sky. If you’re in a room with floral wallpaper flowers might start growing from your fingertips

-things get really distorted in size and multiply. If you’re looking at someone’s face one of their eyes might be growing while the other one shrinks. And they might have 4 heads instead of one

-hallucinations don’t follow any rules of the universe. Be as creative as you want to when writing them

-people tend retain their memories of hallucinations to an extent. It’s unlikely that you’d wake up after a trip with absolutely no memories of what happened

-It’s not safe to trip with no one sober around. You might think you can fly and jump off a building. Or walk into the middle of the road without realizing it. So if your muse only takes drugs responsibility keep this in mind

-people don’t usually move around too much while tripping.

-you lose all sense of time. I always think I was only high for a few minutes when in reality it was 7 hours. Some people feel like they were on it for years

-you can’t really hold a conversation when tripping. You really are in your own universe

-there are no physical affects of LSD. I’m sorry if your health class lied to you. It doesn’t make you physically sick at all

-it’s a cliche but yes, people often see god (tho I haven’t yet)

-tripping with someone you love can be very romantic, but in a weird way

-hallucinations are weird, but you don’t really notice that they’re weird until you’re not high anymore. Don’t write your muse as being surprised or confused about what they’re seeing

-bad trips might include things like feeling yourself die over and over again, your face shattering like glass, spiders crawling out of your mouth/all over your body, being on fire, seeing the devil, things like that.

-colors effect you a lot. They’re not necessarily brighter but they are …enhanced? It’s kinda hard to describe to people with no drug experience but colors have more meaning to you and you really notice them. If your muse is looking into their lovers brown eyes they’ll notice that brown

-I ate some ice cream while tripping once and I didn’t taste anything. I’m not sure if this is what it’s like for everyone but that’s my experience

That’s all I can think to tell you at the moment!! Thank you for reading I hope this helped. And if you have any questions don’t be afraid to ask me!

Writing is Hard, Part 5: Headcanons

Summary: Dean shows the reader that there’s truth to a famous headcanon.

Read Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Warning: Smut

Word Count: 3000ish

A/N: This is all written with love for fan fic. I’m teasing, not putting it down in any way. Hope you enjoy! (Sorry, tag list is closed!) XOXO


“Reading anything good?” Dean asks.

Sam’s inside the gas station, picking up some snacks instead of listening to this conversation, so your face doesn’t feel the need to flush with embarrassment. Dean already knows exactly what you’re reading.

“I guess,” you tell him. No need to feed his ego by telling him how hot the story is.

“What is it?”

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Sick of Losing You

Plot: Harry and Y/N lost each other when he found someone else.

Warnings: None aside that it kinda broke my heart.

Playlist to the one shot: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL2S-tehb1XqDqkmE4xnz7-SciJy61soVf

Thanks to @interfectorems for being such a good friend, supporter and for requesting this. 
Songs that are mentioned but not on the playlist are “Out of the Woods” by Taylor Swift & “If You don’t Know” by 5Sos.

Pic of this beauty isn’t mine.

I watched from a far how he held on to her hand, his fingers grasping and squeezing hers gently while his eyes never left her pretty face. He watched her speak with such an intensity in his green eyes, as if he literally saw nothing other than her. His girlfriend. Not me.
I took a deep breath, swallowed the thick lump building in my throat and turned away from the sight.
Exactly three weeks ago, Harry and I had shared a kiss. Our first kiss, which had been exactly how I’d secretly always wished for it to be. Of course it had been. Every time you get to kiss the person you love is special and like fireworks painting colors into the sky.

He’d been talking and listening to me all night, similar to how he now was with her and had at some point reached out to hold my hand, just like he was holding hers in this moment.
When the time felt right, he’d leant in and had captured my lips with his. Needless to say, Harry was a phenomenal kisser. He knew when to press further, when to use how much tongue and was very attentive to how my body responded to his. Whenever I thought about it now, my cheeks tingled with the memory of his hands cupping them gently as he cradled my face to keep me close. He’d been so soft, so perfect. Harry had touched me with a tenderness, I thought it’d break my heart. I remembered wrapping my arms around his neck and feeling like they belonged there, like I was meant to hold him close.
Only that I wasn’t. The girl he was with now only proved how insignificant I was.

I couldn’t help peaking and looking over at him again. Harry’s lips. I knew exactly how they felt when pressed against my own, knew their taste and shape. Their warmth. Harry’s touch was impossible to forget.
I watched him kiss his girlfriend with a mesmerized stare, before moving away and into the kitchen, leaving the small gathering of our friends with a murmured excuse that I needed to get a refill of my drink, when in reality I couldn’t bear seeing the man I loved sharing affectionate kisses with someone else.
But not even the kitchen was a safe area for me. t had been this exact kitchen, the one in Harry’s house, where he’d pulled me aside and told me about her for the first time.

“It’s difficult” I think he said. “It’s my fault that this situation has become so messy.”

Was it silly that I could actually still remember every word he spoke to me? That I’d engraved every pause, every take in of breath he made, deeply into my head?

“Listen, Y/N… You’re important to me. I care about you. Need you, it’s just… There is someone. Someone who could be a chance for a relationship and I really want to give this a go. Give her a go, I mean. You can understand that, right?”

At first it’d felt like none of it was real. Because how could he be serious?
Harry. My best friend, Harry.
Only three days after our magical first kiss, three days full of us talking and flirting and texting constantly, he was telling me that he wanted someone else. Her name was Ira. And though he was seemingly behaving the same way with her he had been with me, we weren’t the same. In fact, she was everything I wasn’t. So when he told me he wanted her and not me, that he was picking her over of me, how come I’d been surprised?

I would never be his first choice, not when there were thousands of others he could choose from. And it was time for my brain to learn to not interpret every kind gesture, time to learn to stop overthinking every word. It was time for my head to accept, that there was no way Harry Styles could possibly want me.

So… I had been understanding. Kind even.
I’d lied and told him that yes, I agreed that our kiss had been a mistake. We shouldn’t have done any of that and instead thought of our friendship first, rather than our impulses. I’d kept a smile on my face throughout the entire talk and even finished the short chat by wishing him good luck with her. Another lie.

My fingers shook and so I set the empty glass of my drink down quickly, worried for a moment that I might otherwise spill the last few drops. I didn’t think much when I reached for the bottle of vodka on the counter. There was no getting through this night if I didn’t have something proper to drink. If only I remembered the recipe….

“Need help?”

My shoulders tensed. It couldn’t be him. Please… anyone, literally anyone, but him.

However when I turned around, Harry was there. He stood tall and beautiful, his short hair soft and wavy. Harry’s compelling eyes held my gaze with such a tender rawness in them, my knees weakened. All my body burned for was to wrap my arms around his shoulders and have him embrace me, have him tell me that everything would be okay again. I felt like I needed it, but knew that this was a wish I would be denied. Harry must have felt it, too. It was in the air around us. It had changed and… buzzed. As if being in each other’s presence made the world halt still for a moment.

“I’m sorry,” Harry chuckled lowly when I didn’t say anything. How could he smile like everything was alright?

And what was it he was apologizing for? Abandoning our friendship? Ruining any hope I’d had to find a partner in him? Shattering my heart? Hardly.

“For scaring you,” Harry elaborated, a sudden hint of guilt in his eyes, almost as if he’d read my thoughts.

“It’s fine, Harry,” I muttered, bearing a false smile, “All good.”

It was hard to look at him. Especially his eyes. They burned a whole into my chest whenever my own orbs found them. They reminded me of the Harry he once was, the one I could always come to and rely on.

“What are you doing?” Harry asked, his head nodding towards the bottle of vodka. His forehead furrowed in a worried expression and I quickly set the container back down.

“I wanted to make myself a drink, but the recipe slipped my mind. I’m not as much of an alcoholic as it must look like.”

“Good to know,” Harry chuckled, then, visibly thinking about it first, took a step forward. “I remember what you like in your favorite drink. Could make you one.”

From how close he was standing, it was easy to notice every detail of his skin. Every curve of his lips, every hair of his barely-there beard. My stomach turned.

“That’d be nice.”

Harry smiled and nodded. “Okay.”

We avoided any touching. I was leant against the counter, he stood with a safe distance between us and only came closer when he needed a different ingredient that happened to be near me. It was awkward and… weird. It didn’t feel like ‘us’. The friends we’d been once seemed to be two completely different people. I knew him and felt he was familiar, but there was a emotional distance between us I knew neither of us could overcome. And still, I was with him and even if we behaved like strangers, being with Harry was nice.

“I think that’s it,” Harry said, breaking the silence. His eyes were set on the pink-orange liquid in my glass, then they drifted to my face. A proud smile pulled at the corners of his mouth.

“You 'think’?” I challenged shyly.

I took the glass from him (cautious not to touch his fingers) and took a sip. It tasted great.

“M'not big of a show off,” Harry grinned, “S'it good?”

I nodded and stirred the colored liquid once more. “Thanks, Harry.”

“You’re welcome, Y/N.” His voice was soft and his gaze shy.

The air around us shifted once more. My eyes teared up. What had happened to us? Harry and I… we used to be the kind of friends who didn’t stopped talking to each other for hours. At first, we’d be loud. We’d laugh and giggle so much eventually both of our tummies hurt. That was when we’d change the subject and speak more quietly, until several hours later our conversations drifted to topics only we were allowed to hear. Then we’d be whispering and sitting closer together, always an eager sparkle in the other’s eyes as we both listened with interest about what was being said.

I quickly turned away and pretended to yawn. My eyes blinked rapidly and I willed them not to cry in front of him. Not because of embarrassment, but because I couldn’t do that to him. I’d given him my okay. I had no right to be mad at him for having found someone else. Harry remained standing close and with his hands in the front pockets of his black jeans.

“I think I should go,” I muttered.

I held my head low and took a deep breath before looking at him briefly. Harry’s eyes held concern and his fingers twitched, as if he longed to reach out for me.

“Y/N, love,” he began lowly, “Do you think we could talk for a bit? S'been a while since I got to see you. Hear your voice. I missed you.”

This time when my eyes met his green orbs, I didn’t look away, even though I could feel the tears forming and coming closer to spilling over. Harry’s whole expression changed. His cheeks paled and his forehead furrowed deeper.

“I miss you, too, Harry,” I admitted, my weak voice barely above a whisper.

“No,” he mumbled, shaking his head slowly, sorrow deeply set in his eyes. His feet stepped closer and his warm hands touched my flushed cheeks before I even had the chance to back away from him. The unexpected closeness caught me off guard and had more tears coming, this time because of how much I hated how uncommon this sort of care from him had become.

Harry embraced me. His head buried itself into my neck and both arms wrapped themselves around my waist so he could lift me up from my feet. “Please no, Y/N, Sweetheart. Don’t cry.”

I couldn’t help it. My heart, the final bit that had been whole still, broke in his caring hands and I was overcome and pulled under a wave of grief. That was what I was doing. I was grieving our friendship and the lost hope I’d had for a relationship with him. And he allowed it. He let me cry against his collarbones without any complaint and instead began to hum quietly, knowing how much his voice always soothed me. Pain shot through my chest. He probably did the same when she was upset.

“I can’t-” I cried, but got cut off by my lungs that burned with need for air.

Harry hushed me, his hold tightening, “Don’t, Y/N. It’s going to be alright.”

I shook my head and loosened the hold I’d taken around his neck. My hands momentarily brushed his soft hair, then I pulled away. Harry hesitated but allowed me to step out of his hold.

“I can’t take it anymore, Harry,” I confessed, my voice breaking halfway through the sentence. I reached up to brush my cheeks with the end of my sleeve and hiccuped. My head felt numb and I knew if I didn’t get out of this kitchen soon, he’d witness a break down I wasn’t comfortable with him seeing.

Harry’s hand reached for my arm. I didn’t fight it when he pulled me closer to him, but avoided his eyes when he leaned down to find my gaze.

“Y/N,” he spoke, his voice rough with emotion, “I promise you, it’ll be alright. M'not leaving, okay? M'not. We’ll figure this out.”

I wanted to scream but all I could was shake my head rapidly. “Figure this out how? What have we become, Harry?”

Another sob wrecked through my chest.

“I don’t know,” he confessed, “But we’re going to find each other again, okay? I promise. Let me say goodbye to the others and then we’ll go for a walk or something. We’ll talk. About everything and nothing at all… Just like we always used to, yeah?”

Used to. So long ago, it seemed.

“Okay,” I whispered, my burning eyes set on my feet. My skin shivered under his warmth and my lips hurt from how much I was bitting them.

I flinched when his mouth pressed a kiss to my head. The skin was left with a burning sensation. “Wait for me here, love.”

Harry’s quick feet carried him out of the kitchen and left me standing by the counter with my heart at the pit of my stomach. I stood up straight and brushed the few remaining tears from my cheeks. My skin tingled and I felt the hint of a smile on my lips, even though my body ached.
Looking back now, I wish I would have stayed put by the counter and had waited for him just like he’d asked me to. I wish I hadn’t been impatient and eager to reunite with Harry, because that eagerness drove me to exit the kitchen shortly after him and turn the corner, allowing me clear view into the living room.
There he stood. His arms around her thin form, his hands in her long hair and his lips kissing hers. All air was knocked right out of me. I could see how his hands gently moved against her neck, bringing her in closer and their bodies flush together. When their lips parted for a moment, I could see how he let his tongue run along his lower lip, as if he wanted to make sure he got all of her taste. And I could see him smile warmly at her, right before he leaned back in to connect their mouths once more. This sight… it burned.
I didn’t wait for him. Because I had been wrong before. My heart wasn’t truly broken until that moment, witnessing the man I loved with my everything, kissing a woman who wasn’t me. And if he wasn’t going to leave me, if he was just going to keep me close and allow my heart to shatter over and over again, then I supposed I would have to be the one to go first.
So that’s what I did. I walked back to the entryway, slid on my jacket, picked up my bag, and left the house. Left, to never come back to Harry Styles.

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What I Read This Week

(4/16/17)

With all the Easter events I totally forgot to do “what I read this week” yesterday! Sorry!

Don’t You Know That’s the Way Love Comes? by ken_ichijouji (dommific), Gen, 10k (WIP)
Deputy Director of the Parks Department Victor Nikiforov gets the surprise of his life when the city government gets a visit from a pair of auditors. SO GOOD

Of Bright Stars and Burning Hearts by Reiya, Explicit, 44k (WIP)
Part 2 of the Rivals series and companion fic to ‘Until My Feet Bleed and My Heart Aches’. One small change alters the course of both Viktor and Yuuri’s entire lives, throwing them into a bitter rivalry that spans across many years and creates a world where they both tell a very different side to the story. I’M DYIN THIS IS SO SO AMAZING MY POOR SON VIKTOR I LOVE HIM

Masquerade by Ashida, Explicit, 74k (WIP)
“Just say the word.” came the whisper as Victor stepped close, behind them Yuuri was aware of guns out and at the ready, of confused men and questioned loyalties, here Victor was offering, and Yuuri was too selfish to say no.
“Ok.” Yuuri smiled as this game of masquerade came to an end, what would happen now, he didn’t know, he would probably die, his family would come after him and try to put a knife in his back or a bullet between his eyes, none of it mattered, because together they would fight, and the rest of the world would finally burn. The update killed me…. oh man I love love love love love love love this fic!

Twenty-Five Hours by 0lizzybennet0, Mature, 22k (WIP)
In which Yuuri spends a 25 hour flight next to Victor Nikiforov, skating legend, and feels it might simultaneously be the best and worst thing that has ever happened to him. ADHIUVBSDHIAFBDALHJBCDHJLS I AM YELLING THIS IS ONE OF MY FAVOURITE FICS

Language Barriers by Galloping_Monroe, Teen, 182k (WIP)
Victor Nikiforov had always wanted to travel the world. When an opportunity arises to spend his final year of university study abroad, he is quick to leap at the chance. Yuri Katsuki only applied because his friend forced him to. He’s just trying to get through the year, keep his head down and his grades up. Victor has other ideas. SUCH a good fic!

Like a Fairytale by lucycamui, Teen, 73k
In which Prince Victor gets swept off his feet at a royal banquet and will go to any length to find his ‘Cinderella’ Yuuri. (And Phichit is the fairy godmother who has no idea what he’s doing). THE ENDING WAS SO CUTE <3

Nerve Endings by Phyona, Explicit, 62k (WIP)
When Yuuri moves in with Victor in St. Petersburg, they have to work through Yuuri’s anxiety and Victor’s secrets to find their balance. aaaaaaAAAAAAAAA

Met by Accident (Shall We Skate?-YOIWeek2017) by paxton1976, Explicit, 293k (WIP)
Viktor is having the worst day of his life. He overslept and is late for work. To make things even better, he rear-ended the car in front of him. His attitude quickly changes when he lays eyes on the other driver. The man was shorter than him by a few inches. He had jet black hair that was slicked back with a bit of gel. His glasses left something to be desired, but Viktor admired those large chocolate brown eyes. Simply put, he was fucking gorgeous. I have been utterly obsessed with this fic!

Right Off His Feet by EmilianaDarling, Mature, 7.4k
One of Yuuri’s hands is sliding around his waist, guiding him effortlessly until they’re dancing together. Really dancing together, and Viktor forgets to think, to breathe. Yuuri’s so close that Viktor can feel the heat of his breath against the back of his neck, the warmth of his skin through his clothes. Then he closes his eyes, leans into the touch, and gives in completely as he lets Yuuri lead. This fic is AMAZING! Must read!

Victor!!! In IKEA by victoryinthestars, Gen, 1.9k
What happens when some of the best skaters in Russia help a lovestruck living legend, who’s always lived alone, prepare for his fiancée to move in? A trip or six to IKEA, of course. SO funny and a nice fic to read after some serious angst!

(˃̶͈̀_˂̶͈́)੭ꠥ⁾⁾( ノ_ಠ)₍₍ (̨̡ ‾᷄♡‾᷅ )̧̢ ₎₎

Here’s to another week of great fic reading! Be sure to give the authors some love!

a love spell, or something like it

inspired by a post sara reblogged (this one, specifically) and the resulting conversation about different love spells, where she suggested i write the fic. i said no, go away, it’s late. then i stayed up and wrote the fic.

This doesn’t make any sense.

Though they’d never admit it—Dean especially would never admit it—they’re practically witches themselves at this point. Sam isn’t deluded enough to think otherwise. He has a fair share of spells up his sleeve that he knows by heart by now, a few more he’s working on remembering, and some he still struggles with the incantation, but at the end of the day they frequently speak Latin and throw herbs into flames, so, logically, they’re witches, or close enough to it.

And it’s because of this (and his own unfortunate experience that no one must ever speak of again, thanks) that Sam knows a love spell when he sees one.

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What’s up, it’s Alexei!

When Ngozi posted this picture yesterday of young post-draft Tater “trying his darnedest to answer press questions in English,” I thought, “You know, I could make a play fic out of that.” Which is what led to the following 2700+ words about Tater and his ESL tutor.

Many, many thanks to @ktheunready for being my Russian authenticity consultant and beta!


Georgia Martin stood at the back of the media scrum and watched Alexei Mashkov stumble his way through his post-draft interview, saw the way his fingers kneaded the brim of the brand-new Falconers’ cap he’d been handed for the initial official photos, saw the way his eyes widened and stayed intently glued to whoever was asking him a question, like he was afraid he’d miss some key bit of meaning if he blinked.

She pulled out her phone and made a call.

***

«No, Mama, I promise, my room is very nice. The family is very nice. Everything is very…»

«Let me guess, nice? »

Alexei sighed. «Yes.»

«You know I don’t doubt you, right, Alyosha? I’m not worried you can’t do this. You will be fine. But I know this is your first time to live in another country, with none of the boys from your teams here. It can be… hard, sometimes. I know.»

«Yeah, Mama, I know. You told me.»

«Are you telling me you’ve heard the stories of my youth too many times?» she asked in mock outrage.

«No, no!» he laughed. «Of course not.»

«Good. I should think not.» He could picture her face exactly, and it made him smile. «I’m glad your host family seems nice, Alyosha. I’m sure you will have many friends in no time.»

He flopped back on the bed again and stared at the ceiling. «I hope so.»

«We’ll talk again soon. Love you, son.»

«Love you, too.»

He hung up and let his phone rest on his chest. He’d been to America before. He’d thought he’d known what it would be like, that it wouldn’t be so bad. Different, yes, but there would be so many interesting new things to see, and new teammates, and he certainly knew how to play hockey. What he had failed to take into account, apparently, was how exhausting it was to try to function in English all day. For a US hockey team, the Falconers’ roster was shockingly low on Russian players, so his host family was one of the French Canadian ones. To their credit, they did speak some Russian, but it was hardly enough to have a real conversation. Alexei felt like he’d been practically mute all day.

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