Christopher Robert Evans is dangerous okay, he’s a dangerous man, because look at him, he’s annoyingly handsome, he’s built like a firefighter, he’s capable of growing a truly magnificent beard - he’s intimidatingly good looking. But he also is 35 years old and organises game nights with his friends bc he genuinely loves game nights, he gets so overwhelmed talking about his sports hero that he knocks over glasses of water, he’s smart and woke as hell and constantly educating himself on issues, he says things like “anything can be romantic, a nice sunset, y'know”, his dog shares a pillow with him and they wake up face to face,,,,like Chris Evans is dangerous bc I don’t think there’s anyone else quite like him out there but I don’t want to settle down with anyone unless they approach life the way Chris does
anyone else have the burning desire to deactivate all their social media accounts and book a flight somewhere and just disappear and live a totally anonymous existence where no one bothers you and you don’t bother anyone
Some doodles I did on the side yesterday night ( @blesstale drew Zunde that there ) including Dreby taking his first steps. I saw this kid screaming “NOOOO!” at some meat in a grocery store before running to his mom, so there we go ✌️
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…»
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
«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