rock the heels boy

✿ ✿Boys in dresses✿ ✿
✿ ✿Boys in skirts✿ ✿
✿ ✿Boys in “feminine” blouses✿ ✿
✿ ✿Boys rocking heels✿ ✿
✿ ✿Boys in make-up✿ ✿
✿ ✿Boys expressing themselves✿ ✿
✿ ✿ ✿Boys in general✿ ✿ ✿

anonymous asked:

winteriron neighbours au bucky is 28 or 29 and tony is 24 or 25, where bucky and tony live next to each other and tony is scared of him. bucky is always grumpy, angry, glaring at everyone. tony thinks bucky is a serial killer. one day he just blurts it out and bucky is very offended. that's how they start talking. later when they start dating steve still can't get over the fact that tony had thought that bucky was an assassin. he still laughs at them because of that. happy ending.

Resting Bitch Face/Bucky will always be one of my top pairings lmao. (Man I had plans for this and then I threw in angst lol I’m a failure.) Look out for under the cut!

You can also find this on Ao3 here.

Tony was pretty sure his neighbor was a serial killer.

Like, he’d done the proper thing his mother had said to do, introduce himself to his new neighbors (he had a standing offer to have coffee with Bruce anytime), but when he’d knocked on the door of 4D, a man had answered looking ready to commit murder. There had been bags under his eyes and his eyes were red and his hair was a mess. He’d grunted out a terse ‘the fuck do you want’ and Tony had been able to do nothing but squeak. And then the door had been slammed shut in his face.

Which, you know, might have been a little rude; no one looked good first thing in the morning and Tony had clearly blind-sided him. But the guy hadn’t had to slam the door in his face. He had planned on just nicknaming him ‘Rudy McTrudy’ and moving on with his life.

Except sometimes Rudy McTrudy came home late at night clutching his left hand with a towel that was stained with blood.

Tony nicknamed him ‘Murder Guy’ instead.

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“It’s air hockey, you dork.”

#1: “We’re not just friends and you know it.”
- prompt list -

Para @rileywrites-93, @tonky-stank, @giraffeattack21, anon ahh sorry Sarah I wasn’t able to find a way to work #50 in too :’(((

A/N: Ughhh this is so fluffy and I was kind of cringing cause of all the fluff so, like, if you like fluff - w e l c o m e
Word Count: 2k+ okay so this was actually meant to be a 500 word blurb but whoops
Warnings: FluffFFFFFF

The arcade buzzed with lights and voices, excited yells, disappointed groans, and laughter. So much laughter.

The boy standing across from you was contributing to the sound as well, holding his chest as he broke with laughs, shaking with happiness, joy, a broad smile flashing in your direction.

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probably-enjolras  asked:





like everyone thinks he’s this 6ft force of nature but hes actually like

5′3′’-4′’ and probably wears those secret wedge sneakers to be taller like 

either these where the heel is hidden 

Or these where theyre like high heel kinda things


my boy had Grantaire give him tattoos to go over his top surgery scars

they probably dont /cover/ them exactly as much as highlight them because I feel Enj would be that guy that puts quotes on them???

Ferre and Courf were the first people he told when he first came out and that’s why they use their last names because it was a way to refer to Enj with family around and not misgender him and it just kind of stuck after the years even after Enj changed it

Marius??? TOL BOY

A solid 6ft probably

comes from line of giants??? probably??? thts what Courf says anyway

Marius hit a second growth spurt around 22 and Enjolras will forever be salty over it 

Marius opted out of top surgery even when Courf offered to pay for it when he has more than enough money

My boy… doesn’t like the thought of surgery and knives 

he just dont 

but you can bet your ass Enjolras was that friend who made sure Marius had proper binders and used his personal experience with each brand to determine the best fit for him

Dominance || Riverdale Preferences

Archie Andrews:  

Your (e/c) eyes struggled to stay focused on the phone in your hand, and you found yourself yearning to just sneak a glance at the red-head sitting in front of you. In his hands sat a football, and meaningless words continuously tumbled from his plump lips. He was rehearsing football plays, and it was going to take a while to get his attention. “Take your pants off.” You growled, leaning back onto your elbows. His gaze shifted from the strangely-shaped ball to your relaxed expression. “What?” “You heard what I said, Andrews. Now do it now! I don’t have time for hesitation.” You growled, standing up to pluck the ball from his hesitant grip. His fingers quivered as he pulled the jingling belt from its loop, letting it drop to the floor. His long fingers hooked in the waistband of both his pants and his boxers, and he pulled downwards. The aftermath of your words was quite a sight, and you sucked in a deep breath. You constantly failed to remember the girth of the talented boy. “And now.. you’re going to make me come three times. And you’re going to have to wait you’re just going to have to turn.”  He groaned in response. “God, I love it when  you’re dominant.”

Jughead Jones:

Your fingers grasped at the cool metal door handle, a smirk playing idly on your lips. You observed the new Serpent shrug on the sexy leather jacket, proud that he finally found some place to fit in. With this, you imagined that Jughead would have some more confidence, and have a sudden urge to dominate you. But life didn’t work that way, and you would most definitely find a way around it. As the leather jacket-clad boy closed the door behind him, you crossed your arms. “So now you’re a serpent.” You stated, cocking an eyebrow. “Yep.” He sucked in a breath, rocking back on his heels. “That means you’re a bad boy now. And bad boys get punished.” You purred. “I want you naked in my room in 2 minutes. And you don’t even want to know the consequences.” You growled, watching as he struggled to find words to speak. He just merely nodded, his hands already tugging at the midnight-black jacket that he had just put on. Who knew that it would actually work? And who knew that Jughead was a sucker for being submissive?

Betty Cooper:

“God, you really don’t get it, do you?” You grunted in frustration, combing your fingers through your knotted hair. “What don’t I get?” The blonde mewled quietly, her green eyes looking up at you. “You’re perfect. You’re so damn perfect.” You sighed softly, shaking your head. “And I have the perfect way to show it.” You grasped her face roughly, kissing her with lust. There was little passion, but it was full of power and dominance. She kissed back happily, trying to wind her hands in your hair. You quickly shut her down, pinning her struggling hands to her side. You weren’t going to make it that easy for her. “You will be naked in under 20 seconds. And you will be laying on the bed in 30. Don’t test me, Betty Cooper. I just need to show you how beautiful you really are.” You purred, crossing your arms. While the struggling girl attempted to get her clothes off in the minimal amount of time, you slowly started tugging articles of clothing off of your own body. As she turned to fall onto the plush mattress, she received a hard smack to the ass. “It’s been 40 seconds.” “Sorry babydoll. I guess I have to be more… compliant.”

Veronica Lodge:

“You did it again Veronica!” You yelled at her, your breathing shallow. “I can do whatever the hell I want.” She seethed, growling in your face. “Yeah, but I’m pretty sure you’re not allowed to call your girlfriend a self-obsessed bitch.” You hissed back, anger pulsing through your veins. “Oh, you’re really going to get it.” You seethed, pushing her back onto the bed with one swift motion. Veronica gasped in surprise, fisting the sheets to regain her composure. Pushing your way in between her closed legs, you gripped her thighs roughly. She mewled at the sudden contact, her hips bucking upwards anxiously. “What, did you really think I was going to be nice?” You growled, releasing your grip on her. Tugging her shirt roughly from her body, you unbuckled her bra, throwing it across the room. “You make me so mad.” You hissed, blowing cool air on her erect nipples. “I-I know. I’m s-sorry. I didn’t mean it!” She whimpered, anxious to get some contact. She was heaven, and she didn’t want it to stop. “Of course you didn’t. We’re talking about me here.”

Cheryl Blossom:

“Cheryl?” You asked quietly, crossing your legs under you. “I-I know that you like to be all dominant and all, but would you mind if I tried it? It really gets me wet just thinking of you…withering under my touch.” You purred, suddenly gaining some newfound confidence. She glanced up at you, her brown eyes going wide. “I mean, as long as you’re okay-” “Take your uniform off. I don’t have time for games.” It was as if you were made for this. When you were in bed, it was a surprise that Cheryl was the dominant one in the relationship. You liked to have things your way, and if they weren’t, someone was getting punished. You could guess who that would be. Pulling the tight clothes from her gorgeous form, you could see the smirk still resting on her lips. Oh, how she was enjoying this in every way. As long as you were comfortable, she was comfortable, so there was no issue. “Now when you eat me out,  you’re going to drink every last drop. For every drop you miss, it’s one smack for you baby.” “Yes Ma’am.”

Kill ‘Em With Kindness - PART EIGHTEEN

Originally posted by stallingdemons

Bucky Barnes x Reader

You had been detected. You were now on their radar. You are recruited for one mission only. You are trained and put to the test. With your background, everyone realizes it was a mistake recruiting a college student who would soon be faced with the thing that drove her to kill in the first place. 

Warnings: SMUT, SMUT, SMUT; swearing; mentions of death; mentions of blood/injuries; angst; mentions of violence 

Word Count: 4,025

“You are the most beautiful person I have ever seen… I want to ruin you.”

“You’re too late.”

A/N: Yeah, I based the smut around the song “Give It to Me Right” by Melanie Fiona cause I wanted to, don’t judge me. At least we have an actual sex scene with Seb and this song lol, ENJOY!


“Can’t you color inside the fucking lines?” you laughed, tears almost streaming down your cheeks as you threw your head back. Bucky grunted and rolled his eyes, using his fingernail to sweep the excess nail polish from your cuticles. 

Keep reading

Okay, last Yuuri for a while till I have more motivation to draw this beautiful bb. Please, bask in the gold.

WOW. just,…. wow. look at this fashion icon, this handsome boy, rocking floral stamps and high heels like he invented these. incredible. thick thighs/10 mod swear they heard victor gasp softly but with a lot of emotion as they were looking at this

anonymous asked:

whassup it's forensics abon here with more completely useless but mildly interesting info re: high heels. I've noticed when people write about Taako, his shoes inevitably end up slowing him down. Yeah, that's gonna happen if you're wearing Ill-fitting heels or stilettos, but an experienced person with a good pair of wide-heeled boots or even regular high heels can run around and climb shit pretty damn easily. It would start hurting after fourteen hours or so, but that's a pretty long time.

this is all very excellent. 

so that means that taako wearing sick heels on missions is basically canon, right? like you know the boy would rock some high-heeled boots or just like, heels, to all the missions. 

magnus: “Taako, are you wearing heels?” 

taako: “yeah, why, do ya have a problem with it?” 

magnus: “madam director, tell taako he can’t wear heels on the mission.” 

lucretia: *flashbacks to taako wearing heels for the entirety of the stolen century. running from the hunger in heels. fighting monsters in heels. killing bad guys in heels. 

lucretia: “taako can wear whatever shoes he wants.” 

taako: “HELL yeah! suck it, mango!” 

i had this pair of leather high heeled boots that had sparkly studs all over the toe area and i’m pretty sure taako would wear those in a heartbeat. 

FTM trans people do not have to be confined to a masculine appearance and style to be trans

MTF do not have to be be confined to a feminine appearance and style to be trans

If you’re a trans boy and you enjoy high heels and make up, rock it

If you’re a trans boy who still loves to wear dresses and rock a feminine style then you go my dude

If your a trans boy and you want to keep your hair long, and wear pink bows, then you don’t let anyone bring you down

If you’re a trans girl and you want to rock in baggy jeans and hoodies then you do that

If you’re a trans girl and you want to wear kaki shorts and polo shirts then girl you wear it with pride

If you’re a trans girl and you feel more comfortable wearing a suit and tie then don’t let anyone stop you

Those things do not make you any less trans

Just because you don’t want follow the stereotype of your gender doesn’t mean you’re less valid

Your gender expression and your gender identity do not have to correspond

Your style and expression does not determine your gender

Just cause you fit with the style of what people associate with the gender you were assigned at birth does not make you any less than your true identity

You rock that feminine style if you’re FTM and you rock that Masculinity if your MTF

And if anyone says otherwise then they should be educated on what gender and expression are because they’re wrong

anonymous asked:

So about that post with the YGO cast all in skirts....What style would they wear? I'm thinking Yugi would sport the punkish plaid type w/lots of chains and belts.

So something like this for Yugi?

Oh yes he would wear that. With ripped fishnets and boots that look like they weigh more than he does

I like to picture Atem both in simple white dresses that look kind of like the tunics he had in Egypt (maybe our boy gets nostalgic for what his old home was like) but also imagine him in some goth dresses. The black and purple ones would look cool af with his hair.

Tell me he wouldn’t rock that. Also, boots with heels

Kaiba could totally do a skirt version of that white suit he wears sometimes, it’d look great as office clothes. I also totally see him with a full leather dress. Picture him in this:

and with that dress he wears his usual arm belts. His look

Marik is a leather miniskirt + crop top dude. Some shorter version of his old purple shirt, maybe like this

and a miniskirt that is outrageously short. And heels. And golden accessories. Boy would rock the sexy look

And then Ryou would be one for goth dresses too. The biggest goth princess.

This is so what he would wear. Ryou goes shopping for dresses with Atem and Yugi. Maybe they lend each other stuff every once in a while

This is what I have so far, I’d love to hear if you have more ideas for them or also for the other guys of the cast

(All images found on Google)

proseandsongs  asked:

"So, it was you." Marinette and Adrien 👀

Marinette freezes, her locker door still in mid swing at his voice, but shock wears off quickly enough. Turning around, she quirks her head to the side with her own question.

“What was me, Adrien?” 

From where he stands, he ducks his head down to fiddle with something in his bag. And she might have not noticed it before, but Adrien has indeed grown taller this year. 

He holds his hand up for a second as he struggles to pull something out of his bag, but the delayed moment ends quickly as it started. For when he finally manages to get the item unstuck, the pretty blue scarf she made for him over a year ago flutters effortlessly before her very eyes. 

Words dry up in her mouth and a marvelous blush blooms across her cheeks, her neck. “Who–who told you–” she sputters. “No–I would, I would never–” 

But Adrien laughs, a smile as natural as his existence and takes a step closer. “Alya told me.” 

To that, Marinette promptly closes her mouth and pouts, her lower lip puffed out as arms cross her chest. “Well then,” she says, though in her mind, she knows exactly who she has to kill. 

Adrien puts a hand on her shoulder and Marinette pauses her pouting, big blue eyes blinking up at him. 

“It made me really happy, you know,” he starts. “To think it was from my father.” 

Marinette only nods, a little grin dancing on her lips. “Well, yeah,” she says with a laugh. “You were so jazzed about it that I just…” 

“…couldn’t ruin that for me,” he finishes softly. 


The hallway is quiet now, not many students lingering in the building. It’s not awkward per say between them, but it is obvious that there is a shift between them. 

“Well,” Marinette starts, closing her locker door behind her. “I’m just–I’m just gonna…go…now?” 

Adrien blinks and like a switch, he begins to move. “Ah, yes,” he says. “Go as in…go home?”

Marinette giggles and rocks on her heels, “Yeah, I have to study.” 

The boy in front of her bites his lip, his two front teeth adorable and cute. He bites down a little harder and runs a hand through his hair. “Maybe we can study together sometime?” 

And though her face is redder more than ever before, she knows she has never smiled more in her life. “We can study today if you’d like.” 

Happy March 4th!

Happy March 4th, y’all! On this day in 2005, Rose Tyler met the Doctor.

Originally posted by runnslp

To celebrate, I spent the morning introducing @sandalhat101, who’d never seen Doctor Who, to the fandom. We watched the first three episodes! It was great to go back and relive the olden days. ((One day she shall know my pain…)) I mean, what? :P

In addition, I’d like to share a bit of something I’ve been working on. It’s a JE fixit fic in which Rose was the one who was pregnant on the beach, instead of Jackie. She gives birth to a boy, who’s nearly eight years old when the stars start going out. It’s Mickey who does the dimension hopping instead of Rose, since she has a child to think of, and he finds the Doctor immediately following the events of Midnight. Mickey gives the hopper to the Doctor, who then gets recalled to Pete’s world, which is where the excerpt begins. I hope you like it!

WIP Excerpt (2531 words)

He materialized on an empty, quiet street. Actually, materialize was too kind a word for the way he burst into being, feeling physically shredded on a level to match his mental disorganization. It felt apt, in a way, allowing his physiology to go to pieces, unable to keep himself from stumbling to his knees on the pavement. Even though his superior time senses prevented him from being sick like Mickey, he took a moment, crumpled there on the stone, to just be. Here, in Rose’s universe, no entity, no companions, no TARDIS. He’d taken Rose’s instructions to never let himself be alone. She’d been right, as she usually was, but after all these years he was so tired of running. Of putting on the performance, always being all right, never letting himself feel what he felt for fear of giving into madness. Safe in the knowledge that Rose was here, somewhere, the Doctor finally allowed himself to shatter.

“Are you okay, Mister?” The quiet, cautious voice of a child broke into the miasma of his consciousness, and quite right, too. Here he was, going to pieces on a perfectly respectable suburban sidewalk, while Rose needed him. He wondered how much the child had seen – if he’d seen a man appear out of seemingly thin air and then collapse into a shuddering heap. He was being remarkably calm if so.

He let out a shaking laugh. It was easier to pull himself back together with the child’s presence at his shoulder, and he was appropriately grateful. “No. No, I’m really not all right.” There was a sort of subtle triumph in saying the words at last. He drew in great gasps of air, trying to bring himself back under control.

“Do you need a Doctor?”

He almost misses it, the subtle capitalization the child’s tone lends the term, but the next words don’t leave any room for doubt. “My dad’s a doctor, we-l-l properly speaking he’s the Doctor, but I’ve found other people who want you to call them doctor get cross when you imply there’s only one proper Doctor. Mum says the Doctor helps everyone, though, so he’d help you too, or would do if there was one in this universe. There’s so many different universes, with different versions of people, but not the Doctor, he’s a Time Lord, you see, and his ego is so big it can’t be divided up among different bits of him around different universes. That’s how Mum explained it to me, anyway.” A sniff. “As if I didn’t understand the concept of multidimensional nontransferrence.”

His mind was spinning worse than it had been when he popped out of the Void – he heard every word the child said and it all added up to perfectly rational English sentences (especially the last bit about multidimensional nontransferrence, which he thought was inspired), but at the same time it didn’t make any sense because it was impossible.


He didn’t realize he’d spoken the query aloud until the impossible voice continued, “oh, it’s all quite simple really. You see, Mum told me all the Time Lords had gone, and that they were the ones who used to keep an eye on all the different dimensions. It wasn’t that much of a stretch to infer that they must all have had to stay in one place, the prime universe, if you will, because if there were multiple versions of themselves running about keeping an eye on things separately then they would keep stepping on each other and mucking everything up. Mustn’t cross the streams and all that. I guess that’s why Mum keeps insisting we watch that one movie with the ghosts over and over.”

The unbroken stream of words faded into silence as the child seemed to become lost in thought for a moment, and the Doctor took the time to try to come to terms with what had just happened. In the space of less than twenty-four hours, he’d visited a leisure planet orbiting an Xtonic star, had his mind invaded by a malevolent mystery entity, discovered that Void travel was not only possible, but feasible, been presented with the prospect of finally being reunited with Rose after so long, and nothing, nothing, about all of it has shocked him more than being schooled in basic M-theory by a child. A child who spoke of the Doctor and Time Lords as facts. He couldn’t bring himself to look at the boy, was quite incapable of motion at all, in fact, because he’d just managed to convince himself that it all might be true but with this encounter all that hard-won certainty was slipping away.

“Hey, are you okay? Sorry, there I go again, Mum’s always saying I’ve got this gob from someone but she won’t tell me who. It does seem to have a mind of its own though, because here I am babbling on when you might need a doctor. So do you want me to get you one? A doctor that is. If you need the proper Doctor you’re out of luck, I’m afraid, because I can’t go get my… Dad?

The child put his hand on the Doctor’s shoulder and the Doctor turned his head to look at him in the same instant. A charge, like an electrostatic current but ten times more potent, jumped between them, but the Doctor barely felt it. Didn’t need to feel it. Slumped on his knees so that he was looking up into the face of this extraordinary boy, he felt his hearts lodge themselves in his throat.

He has her eyes.

That single thought knocked every other one out of his head – given the state of his mind right then, not the feat it could have been but nevertheless impressive. He couldn’t count the number of times he’d drowned in those honey chocolate eyes and there they were: staring out at him from the face of a six year old boy.

He was so drunk on the sight of those eyes it took him a moment to realize that the face they were set in had the same bone structure he saw in the mirror every day.

What.” The word was hardly a puff of air. His gaze drifted up to discover hair sticking out at all angles like his did when he’s been running his hands through it, except that it was…


“Yup!” Apparently unperturbed, the boy rocked back on his heels slightly, even popping the ‘p’ and leaving the Doctor to wonder absurdly if the tick was somehow a genetic trait or if Rose had picked it up and passed it along, because that’s the sort of thing one did when the world has been turned upside down. “Mum said she laughed herself sick when she saw, but I don’t remember, being so young at the time and all. I’m not sure what exactly is so funny about recessive alleles but apparently they’re supposed to keep me from being rude? Or at least that’s what she says when I’m being rude. Allegedly. Most of the time I think she’s just being sensitive.”

The Doctor let out a stuttered breath which was the closest he could get to laughter without bursting into tears. This had the potential to be the most fantastic thing ever to have happened in his life (well, with the exception of one or two other notable instances) and he was in absolutely no condition to properly appreciate it.

The boy next to him was practically vibrating with excitement and the Doctor could only admire his restraint in the face of his own obvious discomfort. Once his emotions were working properly again through the haze currently clouding his brain, he knew he would be harbouring quite a towering state of rage against the entity who had stolen what should have been, not just one, but two joyous meetings. Instead, he climbed unsteadily to his feet, trying his level best to keep it as much together in front of the child who could only be (he can’t believe he’s admitting it, even to himself) his son - if the nascent bond that had just tried to jump between them through four layers of clothing was anything to go by.

He wished fiercely that he could give the boy the attention he deserved, all the more so since he had apparently missed quite a large portion of his childhood (and oh, how his hearts ached at that thought,) but his miniature double didn’t seem disappointed. On the contrary, he was grinning up at the Doctor as though he personally had hung the sun and stars. The hearts that had been squeezed to nothing in his chest did awkward flip flops. He put his hand on the boy’s shoulder instead, feeling again the jolt of the bond that tried to connect even so far from their telepathic centers, and looked seriously into the eyes that he so adored.

“You know… who I am, then?” he asked, unsure of how to broach such a massively emotional topic.

“'Course I do! Mum knew you’d come back someday, wanted me to know everything about you so I’d be ready when you did – or if we figured a way back first. Not one to sit around and do nothing, Mum.”

The Doctor felt a small, but genuine smile cross his face for the first time in a very long time. “No, certainly not,” he agreed.

“I mean, obviously, she was counting on being the first one to see you so she could explain… well, us,” his son said, scratching the back of his head absently, the Doctor watching his every movement in rapt fascination. “I’m making a mess of things, I know I am, but you’re not mad, are you? At Mum? For not telling you?” Somehow, the chipper, talkative genius he’d just been interacting with had vanished, leaving a boy looking very young and uncertain indeed.

The Doctor had pulled him into his arms before he was consciously aware of the action. “No. Nonononononono,” he breathed, over and over into his son’s (ginger) hair. “Never. Not ever. You are brilliant and perfect and so is your mother, and I could never be mad at either of you. Not really.” A thrill ran through him as he said the words your mother knowing they applied to his own son. His Rose.

“Dad?” the child asked, pulling away the slightest fraction necessary to look up at him, an uncertain, heartsbreakingly hopeful smile on his face, a universe of questions contained within the three-letter word. The Doctor’s own hearts attempted to occupy too little and too much space simultaneously, convulsing in a desperate emotion he’d never felt in all his 900 years.

“Yes,” he replied, pulling his son tighter, answering at least some of them. “Yeah. I’m your dad.” It was one of the hardest sentences he’d ever had to say, his voice faltering halfway through. What right did he have to claim anything of the sort, having only just dropped into his life? But the child let out a happy sob, the sound of which embedded itself into the Doctor’s chest, and clutched himself closer to his waist. Both of them were trembling as they embraced in the quiet street. The child’s hands kept clenching and unclenching in the folds of his suit jacket, under his overcoat. They stayed that way for a long time, the Doctor inhaling the scent of young boy that was somehow still unique to his son, all honey and bruised grass and wind and sunlight, until he felt like it was safe to relinquish, just a little, the death grip he’d been keeping on his sanity. It served to throw into sharp relief, however, just how tenuous that control really was, and he knew he needed to make it to Rose before he completely broke down. He bit back a curse. It wasn’t fair to the child to leave him like this, but neither was it fair to keep him on the hook for his emotional wellbeing.

“What’s your name?” the Doctor asked, all the while railing at the universe for making it necessary for him to have to ask this question of his own son.

“Oh! Uhm…” A slightly muffled cough came from the vicinity of his navel and the boy pulled back to look up into his face. “I’m called Connor.”

“Connor.” The name of his son. He savoured it in his mouth, tasting out the sounds. “It’s, oh, so very nice to finally meet you, Connor.” He could feel tears starting in his eyes, and might have lost the battle with them were it not for the sight of the same in his son’s eyes. Despite his trauma, it was somehow the easiest thing in the world to be strong for both of them. Connor’s mouth tipped up in a watery smile.

“You too, Dad. You too.”

The Doctor’s hearts stuttered in his chest, and he bent to his son’s eye level. “Is it all right if I ask where your mum is right now, Connor?”

This time his son’s grin was decidedly cheeky as he gave his father one final squeeze and let go, shoving his hands in his pockets and rocking back on his heels. “I’m impressed, Dad. It took you a whole fifteen minutes to ask about Mum. Were you shooting for some sort of record?”

The Doctor’s hands found his own pockets, his posture mirroring his son’s as he studied him. “I’m always impressive, me. Also, never predictable if I can help it. More fun that way.”

Connor sucked in a breath through his teeth, his tongue poking between them slightly. “Dad, that was where you were supposed to say that I’m just that brilliant and engrossing.”

The Doctor winced playfully, but his eyes were serious as he caught his son’s gaze. “Is that so? I guess I’m just rusty at this whole fatherhood thing.” And if that isn’t the understatement of the millennium… “You’ll have to be a bit patient with your old man, yeah?”

Connor nodded solemnly, wrapping his arms around his father again, an embrace which the Doctor returned wholeheartedly. “'Course, Dad. Always.” When he pulled back, he had a box in his hand, which he then offered to the Doctor.

“What’s this?” he asked curiously.

“It’s for Mum,” Connor replied. “It’s why I’m not with her right now. Apple tea. I bring her some every year, on the anniversary of… well…”

The Doctor looked about himself, taking in the early spring scent of the air. “Do you mean to tell me it’s the fourth of March today?”

“Got it in one, Dad. Mum said you were good.” The Doctor winked at him, and then sobered. Apple tea. Every year, the scent of apples, and Rose, alone with her memories the same way he’d been, without her. No more. He let out a long breath, holding out his free hand towards his son.

“Well then, Connor Tyler, let’s not keep your mum waiting!”

berry-happy-tokki  asked:


anything for u love, and im not even surprised bc tokki u send me the soFTEST ASKS ALWAYS MY HEART IS SO WARM
@yahjiminie @astro-child @minblooms @gottalove95z @bangmejiminie @j0ngnini (i was like writing this on my phone and i kinda thought of all of u so like um yeah;;;;;)

it’s rush hour, and the trains are packed, at peak period and the commuters are squashed like sardines in a tin can. jimin’s on the way to the coffeeshop to study, but due to his small stature he gets pushed around in the rush for as many passengers to get in before the doors beep and close.

despite little huffs and protests of getting shoved, getting his feet stepped on- new puma sneakers, really!- jimin resigns to fate, kind of regrets not drinking that much milk when he was younger, doing pirouettes and arabesques when he should have been jumping and sprinting or something.

and the train doors close, dull hum of the engines, the looks of boredom, tiredness, sleep deprived people surrounding him, faint chattering and annoyed tsks at pings of a phone, music blaring from some earphones nearby. it’s 8am in the early morning, sun just peeking out to say hello, greeting all the white collared workers and students and people from all walks of life.

jimin surveys the looks of the people around him, mild interest as the train takes him on his journey to his study space. the ride is smooth, until it starts becoming uneven due to a change of track and a slight bend, and instinctively he reaches out to grab the nearest handlebar- only to his chargrin that the spot he’s been squashed in plus the height he stands at isn’t all that favourable;

so he does th next best thing- he clings onto the person nearest to him. easy enough to say a small sorry and just pass it off as reflex. simple.

just that the guy whose striped pastel pink dress shirt (in contrast to his baby blue sweater) with a white tee inside, big round glasses, a black choker, happens to be really beautiful, and jimin wonders how his eyes haven’t come to rest on this creature yet. so much for observing those mundane passengers and their little knicks when this cute boy was by his side all along.

“oh, i’m so sorry,” jimin breathes, a little too long later after staring for a good half a minute. “the train was um, kinda jerky so i- whoa-!”

jimin would probably have fallen flat onto his pink hair and face if it weren’t for the solid wall before him. seriously, he’s so thankful for getting squashed now.

“if you don’t mind, you can hold on to me,” the beautiful passenger replies, a warm hand placed on jimin’s back as if a protective shield. “um, thanks,” jimin mumbles back, noticing the sweetness in his voice, the kindness in his pretty doe eyes. he clings on to the pink material a little tighter, like a shy schoolboy with his crush, ride still a little uneven but getting better.

he notices the boy’s name tag and apron peeking out from his satchel, the exact one from the coffeeshop he studies at, usually in the afternoons. no wonder. it reads ‘jeongguk’, and jimin is pleasantly surprised that his shy habit of looking down when embarrassed has been such a blessing.

“how about a hug, hm? you’re going to fall soon if you don’t hold onto something, jimin,” the boy- jeongguk- murmurs in his honey-like voice that has jimin’s heart fluttering. said prince charming coaxes his shy hands to wrap around his waist, sturdy and solid, lie his head on his chest. “how… do you even know my name,” jimin asks in embarrassment, god, he’s really not thinking straight.

and jeongguk laughs. “i always see you studying when i get off my shift, and you have a keychain on your bag with your name on it,”

jimin’s face is on fire, he’s been such an idiot, and then he says the next thing that comes to his mind. “you’re really cute, jeongguk-ssi,” he bashfully professes, and doesn’t the train just love jimin today. it opens to reveal their designated stop, jeongguk carefully ushering jimin out with utmost care and delicacy. jeongguk’s blushing too, muttering about how ‘says the cuter one’.

finally he clears his throat. “we’ve barely just met, but can we have a coffee? i- i’m fairly new at the barista thing but i make pretty decent lattes,” jeongguk chimes in earnest, the departure of the train causing both of them to have windswept hair, two of them left rooted in the own world, boy in pink with hands behind his back, rocking on his heels; little boy blue all flushed and gazing back shyly through fairy floss hair. it’s almost magical how they’ve just met and are so smitten.

“um, sure, i- i think i might like you a latte,”

anonymous asked:

Hey admin Emi could I please have some HCs for a Bokuto/Tendou friendship. They are spikey headed dorks and I love them.

Of course you may! (I hope I read this right lmao)

Enjoy these slightly delirious head canons!

  • you, a simple shiratorizawa student introduce your two best friends to each other, finally, and, oh boy was it the best decision ever
  • you have a group chat together it’s basically just memes and self-depreciating humour

11:23 pm

koutarou: wake up y/n we’re going to mcdonalds

tendou: dw we have sweatshirts and coffee

you: fuck i want mcnuggets

  • imagine: you, tendou and bokuto hit up clubs together
  • basically you have two hot dudes fending off unwanted approaches as you’re all doused in body glitter (looking fucking fabulous)
  • also, hc, these boys can rock six inch heels easily, it’s just hard to find stilettos for wide feet (except for tendou, he has the daintiest feet)
  • when you all get into college you room together and it’s like living with the biggest dorks ever bc once you came home from your part-time job to find them crying over neon genesis evangelion 
  • one of you are in the shower and the other two congregate outside the door to sing along with the person

“don’t go breaking my heart~”

two people, loudly and simultaneously: “I COULDN’T IF I TRIED”



  • they give the best hugs, all warm and lovely and you just feel so safe
  • who knows who owns what clothes anymore, you just grab whatever you need from the pile that maybe should be folded and put away and you’re ready to go
  • at least one of the has their arm around yours and each other’s shoulders
  • every trip you guys go on is documented on snapchat and every time it starts off at 0 and then gets to 100 real fast for no apparent reason, it’s just like; oops now one of you is arrested
  • either you’re all drunk when out or one of you isn’t and then draws dicks on the other’s face when they’re passed out on the sofa
  • “sup fucker” “sup dicks” “what up nerds” “what’s chilling my dudes” “which one of you shits left out of date yogurt in the fridge” 
  • it’s a wild ride, but you all care for each other very much and would take a bullet for each other

This is great oml, I would love these dudes as my friends tbh.

[reminder that the inbox is open for requests and to chat but closed for matchups!]

- Admin Emi

From the maker of Autistic Merle Things, I now present to you

Autistic Davenport Things

-uhhhh fuckin can’t read the tone in a room for shit. Like everyones pissed at Luc and everythings gone completely pear shaped but my boy just fuckin goes “Hey where is the ship”

-not good at processing his feelings and doing anything about it

-his special interest is this fuckin mission like, he literally defines himself by it. The mission /is/ his life. Like yeah every1 else was p much the mission but they had other things, other interests and goals and stuff. Davenport didn’t.

-ok can i get a fuckin uhhhhhh stimming? My boy absolutely rocks back n forth on his heels.

-hmm also? Davenport stimming with singing!! Like he sang at the conservatory, right? So after that sometimes he just starts singing or humming a random tune.

-Davenport is autistic and gay and he loves his autistic gay husband, Merle Highchurch

Alright well its six am and i havent slept so to To Be Continued but feel free to add ur own