cocktail wear

okay. okay i have to go over all the little details i love about the matching roadrat spray

  • junkrat likes novelty glasses confirmed
  • junkrat likes sweet mixed cocktails confirmed
  • roadhog loves wearing speedos
  • theyre so gay???
  • i appreciate that bliz remembered australia is in the southern hemisphere, so their holiday season is early summer
  • the little towel rolled up behind junkrat’s head. he’s pampered
  • adorable fist bump. they’re bros. they love each other
  • hog’s just wearing a fucking wreath. as you do

Yana’s Twitter, 18/MAR/2017, 02:51AM(Tokyo):

Translation: “Thanks from the gardener. He was the most popular of the servants. Isn’t it nice! A remaining effect of the Green Witch Arc, perhaps? 【Toboso】”

Listen. Boys wearing skirts. Boys wearing dresses. Boys wearing makeup.

Tall skinny boys wearing those long tube dresses.
Punk bad boys wearing short leather skirts with their leather jackets.
Jocks wearing cocktail dresses to parties.
Young boys wearing dresses because they’re pretty.
Chubby boys wearing floofy dresses that compliment them.
Goth boys wearing black lipstick and elaborately layered eyeliner.
Boys with facial hair wearing bright red lipstick to compliment their facial hair.
Jocks with killer eyeliner.
Boys wearing frilly prom dresses to dances.
Older business men wearing smart skirts, heels, and neat makeup to meetings.
Transmen and trans masculine peeps are 100% included in the above, but Imma give them their own lil section here
Trans boys wearing traditionally “feminine” things and no one questions their gender.

Send My Love

Characters: Bucky x reader

Summary: Bucky and the reader talk about why he didn’t make her wedding. Inspired by this ask from @themcuhasruinedme. Sequel to another story, We Don’t Talk Anymore. This one is inspired by Adele’s song. ;)

Word Count: ~700


Bucky hadn’t seen you since your wedding. You hadn’t seen him since your breakup. It wasn’t until Tony and Pepper’s engagement party that you ran into each other again.

You were wearing a cocktail dress, the clack of your heels unmistakable against the floor. He would’ve recognized your footsteps a mile away. He felt himself tense as he faced the elevator and it arrived, and was no longer able to ignore you once he stepped in.

Keep reading

I am not asking to suffer less.
I hope to be nearly crucified.
To live because I don’t want to.

That hope, that sweet agent —
My best work is its work.
The horse I ride into Hell is my best horse
And bears its name.
So, friends, drink your cocktails and wear your hats.
Thank you for leaving me this whole world to go mad in.

I am not asking for mercy. I am asking for more.
I don’t mind when no mercy comes
Or when it comes in the form of my mad self
Running at me. I am not asking for mercy.

Sarah Manguso, “Asking For More,” Siste Viator (Four Way Books, 2006)

one of my fave professors is talking at this conference im helping organize and she’s talking about traditional legal citizenship and its intersection with queer cyberspace and she just quoted cyborg manifesto and im just standing in the back sipping on a huge tropical cocktail and wearing shades in my mind like “yes I do have the best taste in people”