#cheap golf shirts

[niiwa-angel]

I can't stop thinking about how Stan Pines, a man who was kicked out of his home at a young age by his abusive father, turned his own home into such a safe space for not just the twins, but his employees and the kids friends as well.

First of all, we know Wendy frequently slacks off on her shifts, she has her roof top hideaway but she also reads magazines and flat out refuses to do certain tasks. Like when Stan asked her to put up a sign and she just said she couldn't reach it, or telling Stan "absolutely not" when he asked her and Soos to clean the bathrooms. Not only could Stan fire her, he could take away her magazines or stop her from going on the roof. We see that Stan is more observant than he lets on, you're telling me he didn't notice her dragging a cooler and a lawn chair up there? And she's either bringing her own pop and ice to fill that cooler or she's taking his.

And then there's Soos, who Stan cares about so much he got himself on the no-fly list trying to get his birthday removed from calendars, just because it made him upset. We know Soos cares about the Mystery Shack, he feels comfortable there, and he respects and adores Stan. Soos also volunteered to DJ for free at Stans summer party.

We also frequently see Soos and Wendy hanging out with the twins, so either they're slacking off during working hours or they're coming over after their shifts just to hang out. In an after credits scene, we see Mabel and Dipper turn Soos into a disco ball and they're clearly in the residential part of the shack. So either Soos buggered off during working hours to hang out with the twins or he's off shift just chilling. Either way, Stan is fine with him being in the actual house part of the shack.

Wendy also helps Mabel try and make Stan more 'desirable' to Lazy Susan, which I'll get into later, but she's not working and she also in the house part of the shack. We also see Soos and Wendy watching television with Stan, Mabel, and Dipper during the Summerween episode. They aren't on shift! They're just chilling. Wendy hits Stan in the face with a water balloon while working as a lifeguard. She's comfortable teasing him.

Soos tags along with Stan, Dipper, and Mabel when they break into the golf course after hours. He brings his shirts to cut Ws into. He doesn't have to be there, he just is. Wendy goes hunting with Mabel and her friends for unicorns. Mabel wins a pig at the fair and Stan lets her keep it, the pig needs food, who do you think is footing that bill?

Now let's talk about friends. Mabel often has Candy and Grenda over, we know she has loud sleepover with them. Do you think Mabel would bring her friends over if she wasn't comfortable in the house? Do you think Candy and Grenda would keep coming over if they didn't feel safe? Not to mention, they literally ambush Stan in the bathroom and give him a make over. Which he allows, we see him fight off the undead, punch bald eagles, and catch the twins when they fell from the nose of that monument. The man is strong, he could get three preteen girls off him if he wanted to, he was 100% playing along.

Candy and Grenda also invite themselves along on their road trip. And Stan lets them come!! Mr cheap stake agrees to feed and care for two extra kids who aren't his family.

Dipper sneaks around trying to see his tattoo, he feels safe enough with Stan to push those boundaries. He literally pulled the Memory Gun on Ford during the basement scene, if he wasn't comfortable with Stan, he wouldn't try to get that close to him. He calls Stan when he and Mabel are trapped in a haunted convenience store (he doesn't answer but still, he called him).

Now let's talk about Gideon, because I will stand by the Stan had some fondness for the kid. We know Stan has been annoyed with Gideon for a while, we know Gideon has been gunning for Stan for a while. And Stan just... Keeps letting this happen. He never involves the police, he plays along with Gideons attempts, even when Gideon is laughing uncontrollably, Stan just assured him that "you'll get me one day kid". Even when Gideon climbs in THROUGH THE WINDOW all Stan does is aggressively sweep at his feet. Correct me if I'm wrong, but Stan never gets rough with Gideon.

I'm just, I'm weeping over the knowledge that Stan Pines, who wasn't safe in his own home, made his home a safe place for kids as an adult.

[itneverendshere]

Hii i love the bitchy!pogue!reader series and i would love to know how they first hooked up again, like what led them to keep going after their first night together. That's all, thx in a advance if you do it, i love your writing

the way i ran to write this lmao, thank you for the request ❤️ let's just say it wasn't planned at alll....it was fate👀

in spite of myself - drabble

pairing: bitchy!pogue!reader x rafe

you swore the first time was the last.

you were simply… curious. you wanted to figure out just how far you could push his buttons without him taking it out on you.

you got your answer. you went to that party with the sole intent of pissing him off, but you hadn’t planned on ending up in his bed—not that you’d ever complain. but that was it.

you’d gotten your taste, of course you weren't expecting to run into him so...soon.

you’d learned to play along for these little trips into kookland. your cheap dress, bought solely to get you through the gates, hugged you a little too close—but that was the point, wasn’t it? you made a show of adjusting the neckline, scanning the room with that perfected boredom.

the moment you spotted him across the room, you nearly snorted, because of course he was here.

rafe, in all his buttoned-up glory. hair slicked back like he’d asked his barber for the "douchebag deluxe," wearing a shirt that probably cost as much as your entire car. he looked so at ease among his kind, you wanted to pat him on the head and give him a treat.

bingo.

he was pretending not to see you, standing there with some stuffy old kook in khakis so aggressively white they probably had a staff meeting dedicated to their upkeep.

but you could spot it: the clench in his jaw, his fingers twitching around his glass.

honestly, it was too easy. you’d barely taken a few steps in his direction, and his grip tightened like he was trying not to crush the glass just at the sight of you.

aww. you hadn’t come here for him, but the opportunity was irresistible, how could you say no to that face?

you took your time, internally giddy at how his stiff he looked the closer you got. you let out a soft, exaggerated sigh as you finally slid up next to him at the bar, taking your time, letting your eyes glide over his shoulders and back down to those broad, broad arms.

god, look at those arms, you thought.

this idiot must curl yachts for fun. absolutely absurd.

his gaze snapped to you, “what the hell are you doing here?” he gritted out, sending a delightful shiver down your spine.

poor thing, always so snappy.

you brought a hand to your chest, going for maximum innocence.

“who, me?” you blinked, leaning in with a soft, honey-dripping sigh. “just networking with the local elite. isn’t that what i’m supposed to do if i want to ‘rise above my station’?” you savored the horror flashing across his face.

rafe looked personally offended, like you’d just announced you were taking up golf, while you let your eyes drop to the line of his shoulders, lingering just a little too long on his chest before dropping.

slowly, slowly.

his face twisted like he was in pain, and he leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest, protecting himself from the way you were very clearly undressing him with your eyes.

“cut that shit out,” he ground out, “i know what you’re doing.”

you raised an eyebrow, “doing what?” you shot him a wide-eyed, who, me? look, letting your gaze dip again. “i’m not doing anything.”

his face flushed as he hissed, “you’re doing it right now! act normal for once.”

he pulled away from you as if your pogue germs might rub off on him, but you’d seen that look on his face before.

“honestly, if you didn’t want attention cameron, maybe don’t wear that. kind of a slutty choice, don’t you think?”

his neck flushed deep red as he scowled. “excuse me?”

you shrugged, “just saying. last time, you had a lot to say about my outfit, didn’t you?”

“you’re fucking insane. leave me alone.”

you smirked, leaning closer, “oh, baby, i’ve already got what i wanted from you,” you purred. “unless, of course, you’re offering again?”

his jaw tensed, and he looked away as if even looking at you would ruin his day. but he was still here, wasn’t he?

“don’t flatter yourself. i’m done with you,” he muttered.

you shot him a wicked grin, “flatter myself?” you let out an exaggerated laugh, turning heads nearby. “i’m here on a date.”

rafe’s smirk dropped, and he cast a quick, possessive look around the room before moving his attention back to you.

“a date?” he repeated as if he couldn’t believe the words coming out of your mouth.

you nodded as you pointed toward the back, where your “date”—some poor kook with a summer tan and daddy’s credit card—stood waiting near the hors d’oeuvres table, oblivious.

“did you think i came here just for you?” you tilted your head, letting the words sting. “i don’t do repeats, country club. got what i wanted, remember?”

he looked like he was about to set the place on fire, blue eyes narrowing as he glared at your so-called date. you could sense the gears turning in his head. god, this was just too easy.

“maybe you should run along, hmm?” you said, your voice light and mocking. “can’t imagine what your country club buddies would think, seeing you all worked up over a pogue.” you flashed him a dazzling smile before tossing a wink, then spun on your heel, leaving him there seething.

you could feel his stare burning into your back as you sashayed over to your “date.” this was way too fun.

lunch was mind-numbing, but free, so you were perfectly okay tolerating the “date”—or, as you preferred to call it, the idiot with a wallet—while he droned on about his family’s fleet of yachts or some bullshit about generational wealth. you nodded along, not listening as he bragged. as if you even gave a fuck.

when he finally paused to shove more overpriced pasta into his mouth, you decided you needed a break from the snooze-fest.

“excuse me, i’ll just pop to the ladies’ room,” you murmured, batting your lashes like the good, sweet little pogue he thought he’d bagged for the afternoon. as soon as you were clear of him, you rolled your eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn’t get stuck.

the second you got into the quiet of the bathroom, you let out a dramatic sigh of relief, shaking your head.

what a fucking bore.

you’d honestly rather be anywhere else—well, except maybe with rafe, since he’d probably drag you back to the ninth circle of pogue-hating hell.

as you were checking your lipstick in the mirror, the door swung open, and you didn’t even need to look up to know who it was.

“um, excuse you?” you snapped, eyebrows shooting up. “i know you have a thing for following me around, but the ladies’ room? have you lost your fuckin’ mind?”

rafe didn’t answer.

he stalked forward, looking pissed as he backed you up against the sink, boxing you in without so much as a second thought. there was something about the way his forearms flexed when he did that.

ridiculous, he most likely got pumped up just pouring a glass of water.

“what the hell do you think you’re doing here?” he growled, his voice dripping with disdain.

a laugh bubbled up before you could stop it. oh my god.

you clamped a hand over your mouth, but the sound came anyway, echoing off the fancy-ass tiles. “oh my god, what the actual fuck is wrong with you?”

he leaned in even closer. “you think this is funny?”

“funny?” you snorted, crossing your arms. “it’s hilarious. i’m here for lunch. you know, food? the stuff people eat? he offered, and i like free shit. it’s that simple.”

“you’re doing this just to piss me off,” he accused.

“oh, get over yourself,” you scoffed. “you think i’m obsessed with you or something? i wasn’t even thinking about you until you came barging in here like a lunatic.” you leaned back, giving him a brazen, challenging look. “can you move, by the way? i was enjoying the break.”

his nostrils flared, but you didn’t even care. if he wanted to lose his shit, fine—he was the one who walked in here. you stared him down, totally unfazed, holding his gaze until he broke it.

“careful,” you added, your voice mocking and low. “if i didn’t know better, i’d say you were jealous. because, i gotta be honest, you look like you’re about two seconds away from—”

“shut up,” he growled, his face inches from yours, his lips brushing your ear as he spoke. “you show up here, flaunting yourself like you don’t remember exactly how last week ended, like you weren’t begging me to—”

“oh please,” you interrupted, ignoring the pleasure that traveled up your spine. “let’s not rewrite history.”

his hand gripped your cheeks, blunt nails pressing in from either side as he pulled you close, capturing your jaw to hold you still. the pressure of the squeeze pulled your pouty lips together, forcing you to look up with wide eyes.

“stop talking."

you tried to smirk around his grip, feeling the bite of his fingers, but your words came out muffled.

“what’s wrong, country club? can’t handle a little conversation?”

“just can’t help yourself, can you?”

you could hardly nod, your eyes gleaming with defiance as you let out a small, mocking hum of agreement.

his hands slid down from your cheeks to cradle your jaw, fingers firm as his mouth pushed against yours. you giggled into the kiss, entirely too pleased with yourself as you tangled your fingers into his hair, pulling until he groaned.

“this is the last time,” his voice was ragged against your lips, but the words sounded half-hearted, he was trying to convince himself.

you smirked, pulling back just enough to catch your breath, tilting your head to test him, see if he’d let you go. instead, his hand was already sliding up your neck, his thumb tracing the line of your lips, holding you right there.

“you think you’re so clever, don’t you?” he whispered, breathless. “think you can just look at me like that, say whatever you want…”

“who says i can’t?” you purred, lips brushing against his as you taunted, “if you don't want this, maybe you should go.”

his grip tightened, a curse slipping past his pretty lips, streaked with the deep red of your lipstick, glossy with both your spit.

and fuck, did he look good like that—disheveled, unguarded, his face painted with your lipstick like a silent confession of just how far he’d let himself go with you despite his fucked morals.

rafe let out a shaky breath, his forehead resting against yours as he muttered, “last time, swear to god.”

[p1zzaparty]

a very small, tiny, itty bitty detail i love to see in other peoples drawings of the Losers, especially as adults or young adults even, is what kind of fashion is given to them

like its almost a given that everyones Richie has some weird collection of shitty t-shirts with some nerd thing attached to it. Or brightly colored button ups with polka dots and stripes.

Eddie seems to stump everyone because i've seen him from everything to sweaters, to expensive formal wear, to neon rainbow tank tops. Personally i always saw that guy, with his bright pink and blue polo shirts and simple plain tees, as just a mixed bag of beans. He still dresses like mommy picked out clothes that she thinks would look super handsome on him, with his little stiff gelled combed hair to match. But he rarely, probably has anything that has actual words or icons on his shirts. Maybe a national park sweater here and there, that guy probably loooves gift shops. I think now with his big boy money he'll stray away from his usual get up, splurge a little, buy something branded, something new and expensive. Also something stupid, like shoes that are way too expensive. He's a fake sneakerhead, only really investing in brands he THINKS are cool or trendy. Not that he cares too much about being trendy and cool, like Richie probably does. Just...gets an ear worm sometimes, whispering to him about how they aren't that bad looking, and that he's buying it for himself, not because some jackass on tv wore them. Maybe a shiny new watch too, and maybe even a band shirt for pj-only purposes. Otherwise he's pretty strict on his expenses and just buys what fits and works as a shirt, pants, etc. Comfort over design, squarish in appearance, boxy and casually professional. I don't see him wearing a suit outside of work or waltzing into his nearest cheap café with a confident blazer and matching ironed pants. I doubt that guy even owns an iron, probably forgot to even buy one after mummy-kins passed. Even after she screeched and raved about it too, and he just ignored her tangents, assuming it wasn't even that important, all while his shirts became crinklier and sadder much like him. Sometimes i see people make him almost tooooo strict and formal and buttoned up, to y'know match Richies more casual and stoner-dork like style that's sometimes assigned to him. But Eddie, to me, is always a business casual kinda guy. Like, paid business trip to a golf course casual. Throwing on what's comfortable, giving a healthy amount of thought to what people might think of you. You will NOT find this man dressed to the nines at home, but he does, in fact, have a little pocket protector on his stupid shirt. With a pen or pencil thrown in just to make use of it, an old candy wrapper he forgot about and WILL get washed with it, or a few crumbs from his earlier microwaved breakfast burrito he had to scarf down before Myra had something to say about its ""toxic"" ingredients.

His clothes probably vary in size by a very small margin. Knowing a ball park guess of his pants and shirt sizes, always forgetting to add in it going through the washer, or how a size 30 is a size 31 in Canada or whatever. Probably because he was so used to mummy buying everything for him, even into his early 20s in college. Now he's free from her suffocating grasp, he still copies her sense of fashion and rarely does anything outlandish or fashionable. I think later down the line, in the cannon he survives and goes off to live a happily ever after with Richie, that he'd begin to explore a bit more. Getting that sugar baby money helps, and he'd have to try and buck up with Richie, trying to copy him slightly in terms of fashion.

He's a bland man Sarah, a BLAND man!

[https-florals]

you said, baby, no attachments - r.c.

part one || part two

word count: 2k

summary: after a very stupid, very impulsive night with rafe, you make a lot of  questionable decisions.

warnings: mentions of sex, suggestive!!! friends-with-benefits but without the friends, mentions of drinking, cursing, little angst, little fluff.

a/n:  FIRST EVER RAFE FIC!!!!! i have such a massive crush on drew starkey and tbh i’m shocked ive waited this long to write my bae rafe. anywayssss if this doesnt flop lol there may or may not be a pt 2 im working on!!! my plan is for this to have four parts, but that could change and i might condense it. this is based on casual by chappell roan!!

Stupid things have good outcomes all the time. JJ lives by that phrase, and after hearing it for years, it’s rubbed off on you. But apparently, that’s not a good excuse in an argument with him, and here you are, palms sweaty and slipping off your bike handles, repeating the words over and over and over like you’re trying to convince yourself they’re true.

Today’s stupid thing? Responding to a text from none other than Rafe Cameron. Okay, that’s been your stupid thing for about a month.

You had a little thing going with Rafe. It started at a party, a drunk hookup, neither participant quite realizing who the other was until they woke up in bed together. You had practically run from Tannyhill like the house was on fire, only after both of you fought a little, fucked a little more, and then promised never to speak of it again. You had thought that this pact also entailed speaking to each other, but about a week later Rafe caught you at work, smiled at you, and hit you with some stupid line you couldn’t quite remember. Something about being the prettiest girl in the room, which wasn’t exactly hard, considering you were indeed the only girl in the room as you worked the counter at the country club’s pro shop. When he slipped back his signed receipt to you, there were 10 digits scrawled across the bottom below his signature. 

“Rafe, what is this?” you had to ask, tone a mix between a laugh and a sigh. 

He shrugged, and attempted to grab his bag and run out, but you slid the fancy paper bag away from him. “I thought that we said we weren’t gonna talk to each other anymore,” you had stated softly, smiling at the way his cheeks tinted a little pink.

“Nah, I said I didn’t wanna talk about it,” he stressed, “But talking to you is way different.”

You just rolled your eyes and pushed the bag back to him, and he waved you goodbye as he left.

You can count on one hand all the interactions you’ve had with that boy, and that had to be the oddest. Well, maybe not as odd as having sex with him.

A week passed before you texted him. It wasn’t for anything really important, a scolding, if anything. All you did was remind him that again, he can’t just randomly take his shirt off while golfing. It’s a sophisticated establishment, the old ladies complain, blah, blah, blah. His response?

rafe c. - so you’re saying i distract you?

Yes, unfortunately, that is exactly what you’re saying.

The situations just get weirder, when the first time the two of you hang out is when you call him for a ride to the grocery store. No one’s at the Chateau, you’re out of gas, and every form of transportation you could possibly steal for a bit is with their respective owners. You doubt you could’ve balanced on JJ’s bike anyways.

The ride is a little awkward, but by the end you feel.. Comfortable. At peace, almost, in the Kook prince’s passenger seat with his hand ghosting over your knee. In the grocery store, it’s painfully obvious Rafe has never been shopping for food in The Cut. He’s wrinkling his nose at the cheap prepackaged salmon you buy, with generic bread crumbs. But then he helps you comb through the bell peppers to find decent ones, and carries your groceries to his truck. He even lets you play whatever you want over the aux.

You’re waking up with him in your bed the next morning, pushing him out the window so no one sees him.

And that’s how it starts, and how it continues- brief text convos, long hangouts, good sex and fake nonchalance. He stays true to what he said, and you don’t talk about it. To anybody. That was the whole thing- it was understood that it was a secret. No strings attached, forbidden kind of kook and pogue relations that would have your friends livid.

So why are you so nervous on this particular evening? Maybe it’s because Rafe let it slip to Sarah that you’re hooking up. Maybe cause Sarah just had to say something to John B, who then told JJ, who then fought with you in front of the entire group. Everyone knows, and everyone is telling you you’re crazy. It’s not something you can handle, so when you see that Rafe asked you to come over, you’re hopping on your bike and speeding to Tannyhill. 

When you get there, you automatically rush into Rafe’s room, a sweaty mess.

He’s laying on his bed, in just boxers as he scrolls on his phone. He jumps when you walk in, setting his phone down quick and standing up like you’re the queen or something.

Your gaze tracks to a bottle of lotion and a box of tissues on his nightstand, and you groan and fake gag as you flop facedown onto the mattress. 

There’s an almost soundless little intake of air, but you do hear it, and cut Rafe off before he can even speak. 

“I’m not helping you get off!” you declare loudly, and the boy visibly deflates.

“Come on,” he whines, like a little kid not getting his way. “You came in at the perfect time.”

You roll over so he’s in your peripheral vision, and huff. “I’m mad at you.”

He sticks his bottom lip out, a little mocking as he crawls onto the bed beside you. “Awe, what’d I do now?” Rafe lays on his side, head propped up on his hand as he watches you. He likes to watch the way his lamp reflects in your eyes, and how you roll your eyes everytime you catch him staring at you. His fingers creep up your side, but you push him off. Oh. You really are mad, he thinks.

“Why would you tell Sarah?” you ask, voice quiet as you stare him down. The apples of his cheeks turn a little pink, and his eyes widen.

“Uh, what did I tell her?” Rafe lies, because he remembers exactly what he said to Sarah, and the way her jaw dropped after he spoke.

“I just- I really like her, Sarah. Forget about the sex and all that shit. When I’m talking to her, it feels like…” He’s stumbling over his words, not quite able to say what he wants. “She’s fresh air, and I feel like I’ve been stuck in a room without windows, or some shit.” 

He was never much of a poet. He also remembers the vise-like grip she had on his arm as she told him she would kill him if he ever hurt you. Rafe promised he could never.

But right now he lies, lies and tries to level his voice. He’s a little shocked that you believe him, or at least don’t press the topic further.

“You told her we were sleeping together!” You hiss, lightly smacking him on the side of his head.

He winces, but internally he’s heaving a sigh of relief. He makes a mental note to never get drunk with his sister ever again as you continue to rant. It’s something about the Pogues wanting to kill him (nothing new), along with a couple of jabs about how he’s just the worst, and that he's annoying, and blah, blah, blah. Rafe isn’t really listening, rather just thinking about his stupid decisions. One of which is looking real pretty as she yells at him. Pretty enough to fall in love with. He absentmindedly tucks your hair behind your ear and you instantly exhale, losing your train of thought altogether in record time. It’s like you have the attention span of a damn goldfish around him.

You just groan again, and murmur, “I can’t stand you,” right before you press your lips to his.

Rafe laughs against you, pulling you on top of him in one smooth motion. “Good thing you’re sitting on top of me then.”

His hands slip under your shirt, and your fingers push through his hair. The calluses on his hands scrape against the soft skin of your stomach and catch on the lace of your bra. Hard hands for daddy’s money, you think. Your fingers tuck against his jawline, cradling his face while his tongue slips against yours, his lips curling up when you make any little noise.

You pull back to catch your breath, and Rafe just stares up at you, kind of punchdrunk.

“Rafe?”

“Mhm?” He reaches up to brush his thumb over your lips.

You’re silent for a second as you think about what you’re about to say. ‘What- What are we doing?”

Rafe’s mouth is parted, and you can’t quite decipher his expression as you watch his eyes flick over your face. He swallows, and says, “Whatever you want.”

You don’t really hear him, and blurt out, “I need this to be casual.”

“Casual?” he repeats.

“Strictly like, sex. No strings attached.”

He sits up, pulling you with him so you’re still on his lap but he’s eye level to you. He’s hard underneath you, but you ignore it as you continue to speak. 

“Okay, just sex. Why?”

It’s actually very hard to ignore, literally and figuratively. Rafe is thinking the same thing when you clear your throat and move a little on him, subconsciously. 

You shrug. “Listen, I don’t have the time for anything more than that. Plus, we know we couldn’t date, like ever.”

He nods, fake-stretching as a means to buck up against you. “And why couldn’t we date?” When you give him an incredulous look, he continues, “Just to play devil’s advocate. Not that I don’t agree with you, cause I totally do. I just wanna know what you’re like, thinking, if we’re on the same wavelength, or whatever…” He trails off, knowing he’s babbling and should stop.

You laugh a little nervously. “Okay, Cameron.” You take a deep breath, and hope that what you’re about to say makes sense. “I have an itch to scratch, and the only thing I want to do is scratch that itch.” You pause to think. “Itch that scratch?”

“You had it right the first time,” Rafe laughs, but the lilt of it is a little annoyed.

“Okay, whatever. Anyway, you’re good at scratching that itch.”

He grins with pride, bottom lip tucked between his teeth, and just the way he’s looking at you makes you squirm.

“Really good at scratching that itch,” you exhale a little shaky. “But y’know, I don’t really like you as a person.”

His eyebrows shoot up, eyes wide. “The fuck? Thanks a lot.”

“You’re an asshole, Rafe. Plain and simple. I’m not trying to be a bitch, but come on.” You’re thinking of all the times he’s been an absolute dick to your friends.

He’s thinking about all the things he’d lay down for you. “Not to you.”

Your words evidently sting him a bit, and you go red. You hadn’t really meant to hurt him.

You groan. “You know what I mean. My friends hate you. We just couldn’t work.”

Rafe doesn’t really know what to say. This isn’t really the way he thought this would go, but then again, what did he really expect? Everything is jumbled in his head, and all he wants to do is get high and forget about the conversation. But, even though you basically just told him that he's unlikable, you’re still regrettably pretty, and still on top of him. He grips your hips hard, holding you in place as he rolls against you. “So fuck buddies, but we can’t stand each other?” One hand snakes underneath your shirt to unclip your bra, and he does it faster than you can blink.

“Exactly,” you say somewhere in between both of your shirts coming off. “Just stress relief.”

His hands are hot all over you. There’s a hardness in his gaze that’s so different from the softness of his touch.

“We have to have rules,” you manage to state when you’re shimmying out of your shorts, breathing hard while Rafe toys with the little pink bow on your panties.

“Whatever you want, pretty girl.”

It’s a filler phrase, you think. He must desperate for you to shut up and fuck him, so he’s saying anything. 

He’s still thinking about how he’d do anything for you. Anything.

You still for a second to catch your breath, and say, “No feelings. No staying overnight. And we can’t go anywhere together that we would be seen.”

“Why not?” Rafe groans as your clothed heat slips over him.

“Rafe! People will talk. They’ll think…”

He presses a finger to your lips, effectively shushing you. “That we’re fucking? Well, hate to break it to ya, baby, but we kinda already are.”

“And no calling me baby.”

Rafe ignores you and slips his hand between your legs, and you forget that you’re supposed to hate him.

likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[missmielyhoran]

dad's best friend!! Sorry it wasn't supposed to be so confusing 😭😭😭😭

It wasn't! I'm just an indecisive person in general😭. Thanks for requesting♡

First of all can we talk about this suit? Why haven't I seen this? He looks so fucking good😩

(dbf!harry or gangleader!harry and plussize!reader)

Harry- 40, Y/N- 22

[Warning- Smut, mentions of Mafia and gangs, 18 years age gap, dad's best friend, mirror sex, teasing, choking, fingering, edging, orgasm denials, fluff in the end and angst if you squint enough to close your eyes]

You knew teasing Harry was like poking sleeping bear with stick but you couldn't help it.

It was one of the monthly dinner party hosted by your parents. All of your dad's colleagues and friends were at his house dressed to nine. The hall was filled with people in designer suits and dresses.

It was a colour theme party so most of them were in shades of red and black. You were in a short dark coloured off shoulder dress with statement sleeves matching with the long dark red satin dress of your mom and the red shirt of your dad.

Harry hugged his best friend, your dad first thing when he arrived then your mom and then he stood in front of you. He was wearing a dark red suit which fitted him nicely and you already thought of taking pics together later.

"Hello Mr. Styles" You said teasingly being the minx you were. He laughed and hugged you, your face tucked into his chest while his hands subtly slid down to pull you closer to him discreetly so, no one can see.

"Hello princess" He greeted back and pulled from hug. His signature smirk adorning his lips and you were surely red in face, flustered by his deep voice.

"Styles c'mon lets get some drinks" Your dad called Harry. He gave him a nod and shot you a subtle look.

Your parents didn't knew, no one did about you and Harry cause you couldn't even think of what would happen if they got to know that their only daughter was in a relationship with their good friend.

Harry and you met at golf club. It was one of the rare days you decided to join your dad to his golf game and you praise yourself everyday for doing that cause that's how you met him.

You still remember the yellow polo he was wearing. It snugged around his biceps and broad shoulder, the blue pants showing off his fine ass. You felt guilty for thinking he was hot and feeling yourself being turned on. If he was your dad's friend it meant he was closer to his age. He might have a partner or be married.

So, you subtly brought him up in conversation on your way back home and your dad told everything about him. He was your dad's boss some kind. He never goes into details about who or what he works for and you never asked.

Harry was 39 then much younger than your dad who was in his late 40s and drumrolls please....he was single!

Although for a while it didn't change anything but it made you feel less guilty when you touched yourself thinking about him.

Harry was same on the other hand. He shouldn't have been thinking about one of his main hand and best friend's daughter that way but fuck you were something else. The crop white sleeveless polo tshirt you were wearing that day made your boobs bounce everytime you walked and especially when you hugged him and he felt them rub against his chest. Jesus Christ!

He had to excuse himself so he could run to washroom and collect himself (by that he means wank).

Time went by, you stayed in Harry's mind and he in yours. It was your apartment move in party that you met him again. Your dad bought apartment for you cause you were itching to move out and he couldn't let you live in some small, cheap and filthy apartment. You were always daddy's girl considering you were the only child, he spoiled you a lot.

He invited everyone including Harry. Whole time during party both of you made eyes for each other and when party ended Harry stayed after to "clean up" and he sure did clean up.

At first everything from his side was strictly sexual but you were already falling for him after sleeping for second time. You confessing led to a big argument but it went fine as now, a year later you both have been in relationship for 8 months after hooking up for 4 months.

*****

A hour later you were wine tipsy enough to have your cheeks flushed but also be aware of your surroundings. You were searching for Harry not seen him for quite some time.

You walked out in backyard seeing people mingling together. You politely smiled at some of your dad's coworkers your eyes frantically searching for a mop of curly hair.

When you did find him, he was with Sharon. Her manicured hand on his bicep as she laughed way too loudly on something he said. You rolled your eyes feeling jealous, even a blind person could see she had eyes for Harry. Your dad joked about it a lot to Harry in front of you not his fault, he didn't know his daughter was digging nails in her palm so, she wouldn't cry or get angry.

Harry always told your dad he wasn't interested in her and to Sharon also but to everyone he was single. So, your dad kept teasing him about settling down constantly telling him about possible dates. It made you sad but Harry always comforted you telling he doesn't want anyone but you.

You believed him and trust him with your everything but that doesn't stop you from wanting to pluck those flirty eyes out of Sharon's head any less.

Few people walked past them making them shift from their position. Now, Sharon's back was to you and Harry in front of her. You smiked brewing plan in your head. You walked towards them sipping your wine, Harry eyes found yours and he knew something was going on in your brain. He straightened up seeing you walk towards him.

"Mr. Sty-" You cut yourself off and pretended to trip over the stone in front of you. The wine splashed on Harry's black shirt and some on his pants and you "accidentally" collided with Sharon making her fall into the pool. Harry caught you in his arms even though he knew you were safe, it was like a reflex for him.

Sharon screamed sounded followed by splash of water. You bit your lips trying not to laugh as she came above he surface of water looking like a wet dog.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked for confirmation, your eyes softened looking up at his. You gave him nod and then a cheeky smile.

He shook his head and moved towards Sharon to help her get out but before she could touch him you called the guards and made them help her out.

"I'm soo sorry Ms. Sharon. Are you hurt?" You asked her faking innocence. Harry rolled his eyes internally and wanted to laugh at your jealous antics but refrained himself.

Her hardened eyes snapped at yours but she couldn't say anything cause you were her boss's daughter and one wrong word she would have been fired.

She gave you the best fake smile, "No ma'am it's fine mistakes happen"

"I know next time don't stand beside dangerous places. I'm a bit clumsy you know, who knows where you might end up falling" You pouted and passed her towel brought by one of servants. Her smile faltered and she excused herself.

"You want you clean that up Mr. Styles?" You asked him pointing towards his shirt and pants. You looked up at him with doe eyes batting your eyelashes as if you didn't just pulled a stunt.

"You're a brat you know that?" He whispered darkly, his voice getting deep. You kept your eyes on his, "Your brat though" You pouted making him laugh.

"C'mon princess help me get this stain off" He said walking inside. The music was playing loudly now as dinner was served and people were drunk dancing their asses off. You saw your dad chatting with few men so, he didn't see you. Just as you were to slide inside the guest bathroom with him your mom saw you.

"What happened?" She asked looking in between you two. You panicked thinking she caught you but Harry saved your ass.

"Oh nothing Mrs. Y/L/N, little miss here accidentally spilled wine on my shirt. I told her I could get it off myself but she said she felt guilty." He said waving off and pretending to walk inside the bathroom.

"No no. She will help you. ¡Cuántas veces te he dicho que no bebas tanto!" (how many times I have told you not to drink so much!) she said her spanish accent thinking as she got mad.

"Sorry ma I will help him" You said and you really felt like a child getting scolded. You mom hummed and walked back towards the party.

You quickly pulled Harry inside and locked the door. His back was against the door as you started to kiss him. You were a starved woman not being able to kiss your boyfriend for so long.

Harry smiled at your eagerness, his hands sliding down to your ass groping it, pulling them apart then letting them go. He started walking and pushed your back towards the sink pulling you up and sitting down.

He pulled apart to breathe. Both of your lips red, glistening and swollen, your red lipstick smudged around your lips making his heart skip.

"You look so good baby" Harry cooed at his girlfriend. Your cheeks heated up but you kept the eye contact playing with his curls at the nap of his neck.

"You don't look bad yourself Mr. Styles" You teased giggling. He shook his head at your childishness but that's the thing he loved about you most. You were serious, a strong headed woman but also playful, brat and full of life.

Harry leaned down just inches away from your face, "Is that how we're going today? Mr. Styles?" He asked running his nose along your jaw. You closed your eyes and tilted you head to the side as his breath tickled your skin.

"We don't have much time-" You got cut off by a whimper as he started to leave wet kissed down your neck, "People might get suspicious" You said fully losing control of your body to him.

"Mhm I will be quick" He said as his fingers slid down your silky dress to your lace thong barely covering anything. "You're in for it when I get my hands on you later" he groans moving down to your cleavage biting and sucking on them.

"Harry please" You moaned desperately wanting for him to relieve the pain. He stopped moving his fingers but before you could whine in disapproval you earned a sharp slap to your clit. Even though it was covered his rings were enough to have you doubling over.

"Try again sweetheart" he said resuming the slow assault on your clit. Your head was tucked into his chest and only thing you could do was whimper.

"Please Mr. Styles" You begged making him hum in appreciation. He started rubbing your clit faster the thin fabric getting soaked in your arousal. You let out a loud moan getting closer to your climax. Your noises were getting louder and if anyone to pass by the door would know what's going on.

"Shh sweetheart don't want anyone to know you're in here making a mess do you?" He tsked tilting his head. You shook your head not being able to say anything or comprehend. Even if someone did heard you both you couldn't care.

"But I think you would also love for someone to hear you getting of just by me rubbing my fingers on you" He chuckled, "Such a pathetic baby"

You pouted at his words even though his words were making you more wet.

"Don't pout. How would your dad react when he gets to know you pushed that poor woman in pool cause you were jealous" He taunted his fingers still making tight and slow circle on your clothed clit making your hips buck up from time to time.

"Please! Please! Please!" You whined for more. You were incredibly wet and it was aching, you just wanted your release but it never came.

Harry removed his fingers from your clothes pussy making your eyes snap open. You looked up at him frustated and confused while he just smirked.

"You think I would let you cum after you've been a brat" He asked bringing his hands near your shoulders. In one go he flips you around, your back to his chest and his hands over your stomach keeping you against him firmly.

"What you're soo mad I pushed your side chick in pool?" You mocked rolling your eyes at him, starting to get frustrated. So what if you pushed her in pool she had it coming.

"Don't give me that attitude princess" He spanked your ass hard making you moan loudly in return, "It's my duty to remind you of manners you have seem to forget" He pinched your butt then leaving another slap.

Then he pushes him away from you all together, the sudden loss of contact had your body in shivers from cold air.

"Now how this will go princess is I will go is I will fuck this tight warm pussy of yours, get my orgasm" He said his hands roaming all over your body as if he was memorizing every curve.

"What about me?" Your voice faltered as his hands found your boobs. Harry loved your boobs although you told him many times you felt insecure about them he was obsessed. Always holding them, sucking on them like his personal stress ball.

"What about you hm? All you're to me right now is a fuck toy baby" He said his lips sucking on the spot near your neck which can be hidden by hair.

His words should have hurt you but only thing hurting was your cunt for his dick.

He pushed you down your forehead resting on cold mirror as he fumbled with his belt and pants. Once his pants were down his knees he pushed your dress up. Both of your holes were in full display in front of him and he wanted to ruin you right there but they didn't have time.

he pushed your panties to the side and slid inside you without a waning. You moaned loudly from the intrusion, he was so big stretching you out filling you up.

Harry brought his hand to your mouth and covered it. "As much as I would love to hear your maons babygirl, I don't think your father will appreciate it" he spoke in your ears his breath tickling your skin, "What would he think if he finds out his daughter fucking his best friend huh?" He taunted you.

Your brain felt like mush and all you could do was nod. "Such a dumb baby" He spoke and then started pounding in you. Your hips were constantly hitting the sink and you knew you will have bruises there.

You were so close to getting off when you heard the knock on the door. Harry stopped for a second confirming someone was indeed knocking and it wasn't something his brain made up.

"Mr. Styles? Y/N? Who's inside and why is it locked?" You mom asked trying to open the door. Your whole body was rigid and for a second you thought you might get caught. You looked up and found Harry's eyes in mirror and he gave you a shrug and started moving again slower but deeper.

"Go on reply to her" he whispered in her ear.

"Helloo" You mom called out again. You whimpered slightly but got yoursf together.

"It's me mom" You said and bit down on your lip as Harry hit the right spot inside you.

"Y/N? What happened are you okay?" She asked concerned from hearing your weak voice.

"Yeah Yeah just threw up a bit. You know me and-" fuck "wine" You said stumbling over your words.

"Where is Mr. Styles?" She asked. "uh I think he went outside I don't know" You said that in one go amd brought your up so you could moan.

You don't know if she brought it or not but she left after telling you to call her if you need anything. Harry pulled you up by your hair your head falling back on his shoulder.

His pace was flattering but still firm, his hand either groaping your ass or your boobs.

"I'm close Harry can I come please" You begged but he didn't listen.

"No. On knees now" he said and pulled out. You fell on your knees in second, you hand holding his thighs for support. He brought his cock near you lips smearing the precum and your juices on your lips and then pushed inside.

You sucked like your life depends on it. You were a pleaser with no doubt and Harry loved it.

"Yes fuck keep going baby" He said, one hand gripping the sink and other your hair. He was fucking your mouth with same intensity as yiur cunt. You swirled your tongue around him and brought your hands up to massage his balls. He let out another moan and a curse.

"Such a good girl" he moaned out andgripped your head more tightly. "I'm going to cum" he announced and soon you felt him shooting warm thick ropes down your throat. You sucked and cleaned him off until he went soft inside you.

Harry brought you back up and sat on the counter. His lips back on yours tasting himself.

"I'm going to leave and you will leave behind me. 20 minutes I want you in my bed" Ge said and pecked all over your face making you giggle.

"Did so good going to reward my baby" With a wink he opened the window and jumped out landing in front of shed. He fixed his suit and went like nothing happened.

*****

I'm thinking of making this a trope. Gang leader dbf, sounds fun lol.

You can request more here♡

Like, Comment and Reblog please!

[trivialbob]

I am back home from vacation in Isla Mujeres. Sheila is staying a few more days. We know other visitors on the island. Sheila is hanging out with them this week.

The Island is a 25 minute ferry ride from Cancun. It is about tourism, but not at all like being inside an all-inclusive resort. Many folks we ran into visit Isla for several weeks at a time and stay in small condos or rooms.

(A bit long, with pictures, below the cut)

We rented a two-bedroom place in a small, four-unit building. It was at the north end of the island. That's where many of the American and Canadian visitors stay. But locals live there too. From our roof we could see the family next door, cooking and putting out their laundry to dry. Our door is the blue one in the bottom left picture.

Some US hotels I've been at lately don't offer daily changes of sheets and towels. "For the sake of the environment," ya know. Our modest place in Isla included fresh sheets and towels every day in addition to full room cleaning. It felt luxurious.

More local people live mid-island and to the south end. However, visitors rent places all over the narrow island. A couple we know has the equivalent of a studio apartment mid-island for two months at $600/month. A realtor would call it "Very cozy." I liked it.

That couple has bicycles they store there for when they come back each winter. They also rent a golf cart from time to time to drive around the island, as many visitors do. Some Americans and Canadians purchase places instead of renting. Some beautiful, modern houses dot the island.

One of the first things I did upon arrival was slather myself in SPF 50 sunscreen. My pasty white head and back made the soft, white beach sand look like black pepper in comparison. The sunscreen worked well. I have only one small patch of burned skin where I missed covering a spot on one ankle.

You won't find chain restaurants here. The few banks and gas stations have familiar names, but that's about it for big brands.

Warning signs are few and far between. Servers bring cold beer to the beach, in glass bottles. This was my fourth or fifth visit and Sheila's 12th. We've never seen or heard someone break a bottle. There are no lifeguards at beaches or pools.

When crossing roads, cars, golf carts, and scooters seem to have the right-of-way over pedestrians. Sidewalks are rough and uneven. You learn to be careful and pay attention. At times soldiers and police patrolled the streets with rifles. We felt secure the whole time, even while walking in dimly lit local neighborhoods.

One resort-like place where we hung out at for a few hours has a pool with concrete seats and tables in the water. A server, seeing me cooling off in the water, asked if I'd deliver a glass ashtray to four women sitting at table in the pool.

Smoking isn't allowed inside bars and restaurants, thank God. Unlike the US where that's just understood, there are some No Fumar signs posted in Isla businesses. I bet I didn't see more than a dozen people smoking the whole time I was there.

Touristy stuff is there if you want that. Two streets have vendors hawking t-shirts, magnets, and such. Scuba and fishing trips are available if that's your thing. Golf carts and scooters can be rented. Mainly I eat good food, drink relatively inexpensive drinks and cheap beer, read, and relax. Surprisingly though, I recorded 10,000 or more steps every day.

Many of the older buildings would make an American code inspector twitch with anxiety. Few stairs, even very steep ones, have railings. Nor do all the rooftops. Our place had a railing on top but the buildings next to us did not. A realtor might call those "Unencumbered terraces." I easily could have done one of those cop TV show stunts, jumping from building to building while chasing a perp down the block.

Try tracing these wires. Or finding the source of the water lines. A realtor might say "Plentiful utilities." We did have excellent water pressure, hot and cold. Just don't drink it.

Bathrooms in some bars and restaurants... oh my. An Applebee's is more sanitary, but then you are eating at Applebee's. About ten years ago one of Sheila's friends purchased a toilet seat with her own money and installed it herself in one of the island's bars she liked to frequent. She had developed some nice leg muscles from so much hovering. Life's trade-offs, right?

One bar's women's room has a lot of comments in Sharpie about Mark. Some female out there somewhere DOES NOT LIKE MARK. Apparently a frequent visitor to the island, she documents when bad thoughts of Mark cross her mind. The men's room offered some scribbles both for and against Mark. At our table a group of us sat around trying to come up with the story. It could have a chance at being a Netflix/Hulu movie.

We didn't cook. There are too many local places that are fun and tasty. In some parts of the island you can actually order a meal at someone's house and eat on their patio. I'll have a separate post later about how we hired local guy bring us to seven different places for food one night.

Several times we shared restaurant tables with other visitors, some we knew from previous visits, some total strangers. A couple from New Jersey wanted to sit on the patio at a restaurant Sheila and I like. All three outside tables were occupied. We had empty chairs at ours, so we invited them to join us and had a wonderful evening talking with them. The wife did sound a bit like Carmela Soprano. Her husband, however, did not make me remove my cap. Another restaurant had a cat you could pet during dinner at another place.

In addition to the restaurant cat there were sidewalk dogs. They putter around or relax on the warm pavement. People walk and drive around the dogs. I assure you that white dog in the right picture is just sleeping contentedly. I didn't use a flash, so I wouldn't disturb him. The little one on the left greeted me as I walked along the malecón on my way to a massage.

We played pickle ball while there. The courts were in the middle of an area with few tourists. All the players were Americans. I wonder what the local residents think of the game with the bright, plastic balls that go clink, clink, clink. That's me in the yellow hat (top left picture). The bottom two pictures are what was behind the courts.

I could get used to scooter life. Sheila has one at home, but it's engine is literally six times the size of what these ones here have.

Carnival celebrations began on Friday. Our place overlooked the town square, by the Catholic Church. It was fun to watch the celebration with the loud music and lots of people.

That got long! Enough for now.

[thatrickmcginnis]

These photos of Robert Smith of The Cure sat forgotten in a negative binder for over 35 years until I rediscovered them last fall while looking for something else. I had, in fact, done my level best to forget about them, as they were evidence of what I remembered as a massive fail made during my earliest years working as a photographer. They were a major stumble on a steep learning curve, and I was sure all evidence had been lost. But let's start at the beginning, when I was assigned to interview Robert Smith and The Cure when they were passing through town on what was apparently called the Beach Party Tour, playing the Kingswood Music Theatre just outside Toronto on July 13, 1986 with 10,000 Maniacs opening.

Another writer at the magazine, Perry Stern, was a huge Cure fan and phoned begging me to let him do the interview; I agreed, provided I still got to take the photos. (I also asked if he could give me a ride to and from the venue.) I had an idea: I'd seen an article in a photography magazine showing how you could get interesting colour washes on your backgrounds by putting complimentary coloured filters in front of your lens and flash. This might have produced interesting results if I bothered doing a test shoot, but I was too cheap/rushed/arrogant for that sort of thing, so I showed up with green and red filters on my Pentax Spotmatic and my Vivitar flash and shot away in a fenced-off grassy area beside the stage.

It's worth talking about the unusual look Robert Smith was rocking during at least part of 1986 - trainers and golf shirts and jeans and short hair. If I still had the transparencies I shot that day including the rest of the band I'd be able to tell you if the Cure as a whole were taking a vacation from their Goth image and dressed down similarly, and if this was one of the few artifacts attesting to a brief sportswear period in the band's history. But the results were awful - overexposed, with a greenish tint, mostly because I had no clue what the ideal ratio between the bright sunlight and the flash strength should have been. The magazine might have reluctantly printed one remotely salvageable frame but my ambition had definitely overstripped my skill and I tried to forget about this shoot.

But at some point a few months after my disastrous Cure shoot I thought I might be able to salvage the results by converting the slides to black and white negatives. I either found someone who could produce an internegative or borrowed the gear to do it myself, but inexperience won again and the four portraits of Robert Smith that I produced were too overexposed for me to work with all those years ago, so I filed them at the bottom of a negative sheet and forgot about them.

Until last fall when I found them again and decided to see if they could be saved with scanning and the neural filters that were recently added to Photoshop. The film grain that was so hard to deal with back in 1986 suddenly became a feature, adding to the retro feel the shots had acquired either with time or in my own mind. With some judicious application of the restoration filter these frames cleaned up nicely, but I decided to push things one stop further by using the colorizing filter as well - making sure Smith's signature smeared lipstick wasn't just retained but highlighted. Now I like to imagine that these shots were taken in 1937 with an old Kodak folding camera like my Jiffy Six-20, and hand-coloured by some underpaid darkroom assistant working for a developing lab in a building down in the warehouse district of town. It's certainly a better story than the one about the kid photographer who screwed up on a big job nearly forty years ago.

[storiesabouthumanandthings]

The Punk and The Suit 5

After a few lunches of proving Kristoph can at least stand on a board without falling and getting glares from Eric and his cronies, Kieran and Kristoph make plans for a Saturday.

“So if you are actually going to ride the board, you are going need clothes you can get dirty and shoes with some actual give in the soles that you won’t mind getting scuffed.”

Kristoph just looks nervous and nods.

“You do have other shoes right?”

Kristoph pursed his lips and shakes his head, “Dress and golf shoes for meeting with some clients that refuse to meet in the office.”

Kieran rolls his eyes, “Well we can go get you some cheap skate shoes.…….you got clothes that you don’t mind getting dirty, right?”

Kristoph refuses to meet his eyes,

“RIGHT?”

Kristoph turns back to Kieran with a pained face, “Pajamas?”

Kieran stands up, “Are you fucking kidding me!? All you own are suits?”

Kristoph tries to defend himself, “No, I own Polo’s too, that’s not a suit!”

“That is just weekend suit, causal suit, this mother fucker!”

Kristoph trying to get back on skating, “I have seen people go skating in pajamas.”

“And I bet even your pajamas have ties.”

Kristoph looks away.

“No! No Way!”

“It’s only one pair! It was a novelty gift I got for Christmas. It’s not even a real tie. It just on one side of the shirt to look like a tie when you button it up.”

Kieran is laughing hard to himself, “Motherfucker got ties and buttons on his pajamas.”

Kristoph tries for a good comeback, “They are a high qualify material and they feel nice. Probably nicer fabric than anything you wear.”

“Since I usually sleep naked, yeah, I bet the fabric is.”

Kristoph was glad he was already blushing or else it would be obvious were his mind was going.

“Whatever, I guess we just got to take you on a small shopping trip.”

Kristoph huffed, “Fine but we should get you a suit while we are at it.”

Kieran reacts shocked, “Who says I don’t have a suit?”

Kristoph looks him up and down, “Whatever suit you do have, if you have one, doesn’t fit you well. Was probably bought at some budget store, black slacks and blazer with a white button up. If there is a tie, most likely that is black as well or high school colors. Fits you loose, wore once, that you bought out of necessity and never wore again. Or is some family hand-me-down that gets passed around when needed. And the way you and Patrick act, my guess is the only time you wear a suit is to get married, get buried, or to go to court. Sounds about right?”

Kieran laughs and flips him off, “WOW. I didn’t know you could be a dick, Kris.”

Kristoph laughs quietly, “I am in Marketing. My whole job is to study people and try and learn what they like and don’t like to try and get them to buy our product. The product of that is sometimes you get pretty good at reading people.”

“Oh and that gives you permission to be a Pissy Krissy?”

“That means I can call out people on things sometimes that they might not know themselves. For example, people will almost always get the taller cup, even when the shorter cup can hold more, because the taller cup looks like more. And since you were giving me a roasting me about my closet, thought it was fair to send a few embers back at you.” Kristoph grins

Kieran laughs, “Well you’re not wrong. I do only have one suit. It does fit like shit. I have worn it more than once but only for weddings and funerals, so yes black with white button up. Bow Tie because I am fucking fancy.”

Kristoph snorts at the bow tie comment, “I would like to see you in the bow tie.”

Kieran leans into Kristoph, “No other clothes, just the bow tie?” and begins to laugh. “Fine, we will get you some NORMAL clothes to skate in and I’ll get a good suit since I have the art thing coming up. My manager has been bitching about showing up in my normal attire. Stated I needed to dress up for the press anyways.”

Kristoph smiles, “It’s a date then?”

Kieran, “A date. Especially if our families ask.”

First Previous Next

[saqvobase]

Mesmerizer Live-Action Music Video Plan

So I guess you could say that I've been mesmerized by 32ki's Mesmerizer.

I've been infected with an idea so I must write it down before I forget or get bored of it.

I've been kicking around the idea of making a live-action version of the music video. I want it to use as many practical effects as possible and as little CGI as possible, ideally accompanied by a musical cover of the song by the actors.

Part 1: Costumes

Hatsune Miku

Luckily there are plenty of Miku wigs cosplay that can be bought.

I couldn't find an exact equivalent for the dress, but it seems like a fusion between a retro diner dress and a maid outfit. I think there's a golf visor on her head? We don't see the back of the character, but I'm pretty sure there's a big white bow. All that might need to be custom made.

The cuffs can be ordered on their own.

I didn't think that they made bow ties this big, but the color, angle and size all fit. (This goes on the visor)

For the socks, the best equivalent I found was something called 'slouch socks'

Shoes. Red with a white sole and yellow laces, and four wheels. Roller skates would be dangerous on a set. I'm tempted to just nail some painted wooden cylinders to the bottom of some Converse and treat it like platform boots.

Kasane Teto

Luckily there are plenty of Kasane Teto cosplay wigs that can be bought.

Luckily Teto's outfit is much simpler. White collar shirt under a blue pinstripe shirt with a dark gray tie and the same gold brushed nametag.

These pants are so bright, I can't believe they make them in this color. Matching red suspenders were easy to find

I found this pair of yellow cotton gloves, I think it is more likely to be this than rubber. They can be rolled up at the wrist to be more like the ones in the video. I just need to find a pair that is a more saturated yellow.

The hat is red, short, circular with a flat top, switch a small black brim. I couldn't find anything like it, perhaps another custom job.

The smily face pin on the other hand, is a dime a dozen.

Ribbed gray socks

and black loafers.

Miscellaneous

For the name tag, I found these cheap brushed gold plastic pins. It could be cool to etch their names on it.

For the starry-eyed parts, I found these contact lenses. The reviews say that you can still see through them pretty well so that's good. I couldn't find any that were 4 pointed stars.

For the mesmerized parts, I found some contact lenses that totally black out the eye, they are over $100 for a set though.

Part 2: Set

The non-moving backgrounds such as the stripes or water drops can be done traditionally.

The clouds and hills are another story though.

My idea of how to do is is a series of belts with the image on them controlled by a spinning rotor. The song will be recorded in studio, so the sound of the rotors wont affect the video.

Part 3: Effects

In-Camera Effects

A colored frame like this can be placed between the camera and the set. This frame can be moved back and forth as needed.

for the parts when the frames cross, the frame can be folded like this. At the point of crossing cut the footage. Swap the backgrounds, and resume filming.

The center spinner could be threaded through a hole in this frame, with a small gear system for perpendicular rotational transfer.

Special Effects

The confetti can be spread from above, either by a machine or a helper. The curtain of confetti should be after the colored frame, but before the set so that the actors don't get covered.

Conclusion

Finally, the brainworm has left my brain, and transferred to a written medium. I have no idea how much any of this would cost, but I estimate it is below $10,000.

If you have any questions or suggestions let me know!!!!!

[lixxen]

FNAF Security Breach Uniform Designs

For the last ten years I've been absolutely obsessed with FNAF. Lately I've been obsessed with the idea of what the Pizzaplex uniforms would be and how awful they probably would be (plus I wanted to cosplay a worker). So I decided to do a deep dive and create the most obnoxious uniforms ever.

I may actually make these very slowly and cosplay them at conventions. I was slightly inspired because of an artist on here does an xReader fic and I didn't see them in a specific uniform really, maybe besides a few accessories. So here we are. The most ugly FNAF uniforms you will ever see and I WILL expand to jackets and name tags on a later date.

(Explanations and designs UTC)

So, to preface I wanted to say that I am majoring in PR and social media management, so I have a little bit of an idea of how branding and marketing works. I've also have worn the most ugly uniforms in minimum wage jobs, so I do know that corporate companies do not care if they put their employees in the most ugly thing as long as it is on theme.

Things to consider:

What did uniforms for establishments in this category looked like over the years?

Are you doing specific uniforms for specific areas of the Pizzaplex?

What color pallets are branded to each character?

What aesthetic are you going for?

Establishments

For establishments, I chose Disney (theming being important and a big establishment that would hide skeletons) and Chuck E Cheese (animatronics and specifically the time frame). I did a deep dive on Chuck E Cheese and their uniforms in the 80-90's, which led me to doing a ton of Ebay and WorthPoint searching along with watching old taped birthdays from the 90's.

I personally believe that Fazbear Entertainment wouldn't stray from the bright and manufactured look that they have going and are very cheap, plus the glamrock phase was in the 70's. And companies tend to be very late to trends. So we can take these the fact that they would be ugly and bright uniforms that are severely outdated and put that together.

With this, you get something that looks like this (all being CEC besides the screencap of the movie trailer):

I used the idea that each area of the Pizzaplex would have its own uniform, much like Disney. So I assigned each of these uniforms a different animatronic's area (Roxy's Raceway, Mazercize, Superstar Daycare, Monsty's Wild Golf, and then for Freddy I did Rockstar Row). I did one general staff shirt, which is also very ugly.

Color Pallets

This was very simple. I just chose colors from the animatronics/their sign logos and then made a simple color pallet.

This process was easy enough and I made sure to give myself a few colors for some of the ones that had multiple shades or similar hues.

I didn't do Bonnie, only because he wasn't in the game. BUT, I do have a design in mind for him. And it is actually the least ugly one.

Uniforms

Each uniform comes with a polo and either a full cap or visor. You will wear them with either black or khaki colored pants or shorts, held up with a black belt. Black shoes. Then you will have a matching apron. The aprons I have not designed yet, so they will come with the others I am going to design.

Here are my ugly designs.

I hope y'all remember that they're supposed to be god awful and poorly drawn. I am not spending a ton of time perfecting them. I debated on putting the logo on the arms also, so that is an alternate design.

They're supposed to be ugly, not make sense other than theming, and just be obvious copy paste designs made just so they have a little bit of differentiating.

If anyone wants me to go deeper into it, I will. I'll make more shirts and make them even worse.

Please guys they're supposed to be poorly drawn and obnoxiously not good designs. I am using my shitty knowledge for bad

[runawaycarouselhorse]

Special interest level: I got very fascinated with sleeve garters and sleeve straps and reading about them because of Best Wishes! So, here's a post compiled of the results of reading a lot about things tangentially related to my special interests, ffff.

Sleeve garters are like what Cabernet (Burgundy) wears! Remember, Pokemon Connoisseurs are called Pokemon Sommeliers in the original, they're based on wine experts (hence comparing compatibility between trainers and their Pokemon with food-wine marriages, borrowing the same terms.)

"A sleeve garter is a garter worn on the sleeve of a shirt. It came into wide use, especially in the US, in the latter half of the 19th century when men's ready-made shirts came in a single (extra long) sleeve length. Sleeve garters allow individuals to customize sleeve lengths and keep their cuffs from becoming soiled while working or at the correct length when worn under a jacket. (...) a century ago this item of clothing was something a man may have worn regardless of profession (with the possible exception of the wealthy or those too well-dressed to wear non-tailored shirts)..." (Wikipedia)

Bartenders (to keep sleeves clean) and poker/casino dealers (previously to show there's no room to hide anything up their sleeves, apparently!) still tend to wear these and, historically, typists, accountants, and anyone who works with inks and paints would wear them. Now, they mostly feature in historical fashion or period costumes.

Aside from the lapels on Trip's jacket (his hoodie's always in the way, so I can't figure out what kind of lapels, exactly, it could notched or shawl... but if you want to go by cheap cosplay meant for a goofy official variety show where the rivals get "drunk" on... tea??? I've never seen it but it sounds hilarious and reminds me of the TRio getting "drunk" on water in AG of dubious accuracy, it looks like a notched lapel!), his beta design's jacket also had sleeve straps and a breast pocket.

Sleeve straps are often only ornamental now (and in the beta design, no buttons are drawn, but that might've just been for easier animation), but their function was to draw the sleeve closer to the skin to keep the wind out and trap body heat if it's cold. Which fits, since we tend to assume the kid hates the cold because this kid's going on a journey in a suit jacket, hoodie, and undershirt in spring and summer?! ^^;;

His hoodie in the beta design also had drawstrings, which you rarely see in the anime (it's there in one shot in the Fushide episode!).

Tomboyish Georgia wears a yellow newsboy cap! (Think Newsies and Peaky Blinders.) I used to wear a wooly grey one in the winter, used to cover my ears with it and tuck all my hair into it, too! Didn't figure this one out on my own, @pkmncoordinators pointed it out. ^^

While mostly associated with the working class, men and boys of all classes wore them, they were very common in the 1920's, although the wealthy typically only wore them while golfing or doing other leisurely activities.

Georgia's hat appears to be modelled on an 8 panel newsboy cap. ^^

[shadow4-1]

As someone who grew up playing on a golf course, yes this! 100%

There's some nasty old dudes out there, but if you're a pretty young "cart girl" (that's what we called 'em lol) you could put yourself through college with tips - it's what my sister did! And yes, you had a lot of hot shot millionaires out there too. If you could play a good game of golf they would pay you just to play alongside them (kinda gross, but again, it got my sister through college).

- - - -

I'm just imagining being an amateur golfer who doesn't have enough money to pay for equipment, but adores golfing. One day you meet Price at the driving range and he's enamored by your self-made skill. You don't do coaching, but he's a bit persistent. He needs to get better! Golf is his life now, after all. He doesn't have much of a family and spends most of his evening enjoying the course. So, you begrudgingly agree because you need money for equipment. Golf ain't cheap.

It starts out as a once a week transaction, but soon enough you find yourself spending more and more evenings together. Price's game has seen serious improvements but you're not sure if it's because of you or if he's been pretending to be bad the whole time. You find yourself not caring. He pays for your rounds and your balls and even sent off one of your favorite clubs to get re-gripped! And he pays you for every "session" that always seems to end at sunset, with the two of you squished tight into the tiny golf cart on the way back to the clubhouse.

You don't start to question the nature of your relationship with the man until one night the two of you are eating and drinking at the clubhouse restaurant. His ears, nose and cheeks are blushed with a tan as he grins at a joke you've made. He uses the hem of his expensive polo to mop some sweat from his brow, smile unwavering.

He asks if you're interested in going for a walk. Apparently hole fifteen has gotten a new waterfall added to its man-made lake. You have nothing else going on, so you decide to go with him.

It's a quiet, cool night. The crickets chirp and the freshly watered grass smells like home. Off in the distance you can hear a real life owl hoot. The two of you quietly crunch along the concrete cart path just enjoying the signs of nature. It's peaceful.

You hear the waterfall before you see it. You can smell the freshwater churning across it's man-made rock formations. Frogs chirp and cicadas drone. A childish part of you almost starts running around the bend but a large hand blocks you. Price stills and presses you behind him with a firm palm. You're unsure of what's going on but comply. You grasp at the sleeve of his shirt when you see it.

There, in the grass before you is the largest male deer you've ever seen before. His antlers are so large they look like the branches of a tree. The deer lifts its head from the grass and stands to attentions, ears and nose twitching. Price's palm cups at your side, his blunt nails digging into your skorted thigh. It's a warning not to move. You don't.

If that deer still has his antlers it can only mean one thing...

A little doe peeks around the buck's neck. She stands slowly, then bolts into the nearest thicket. The buck blinks slowly, ears twitching. He then follows after the doe through the undergrowth.

You release a breath you had no idea you were holding. Price relaxes, but doesn't let go of you. The two of you look at each other before breaking out into grins and laughter. That had been a terrifying, and yet stunningly beautiful moment.

Price moves his hand at your hip to the small of your back. The two of you talk breathlessly as you finish walking the rest of the way to the waterfall you'd nearly forgotten about. You sit down in the grass and enjoy the sight of the vertical rapids. Your conversation is so full of excitement you don't realize how close you are. He smells like a musky evergreen despite the sweat beneath his underarms. You start to get a bit shy.

Price notices and instead pats at your back. You're so caught up in your thoughts you don't react when he kisses you. You're shocked still, but after a moment you find yourself giving fully into him. This is wrong, right? You shouldn't be doing this out here with him like this. It feels...exciting.

He takes you right there on the cool grass.

It's a quick, drippy moment that leaves you warm and satiated. The two of you quietly walk back in the near pitch dark. The stars are so bright and you cling to him.

You end up getting into the passenger seat of his car that night. You never have to pick up your car either, Price sends someone to go get it.

hey what if golf dilf price met you at the club itself.

you're there as a bev cart girl and his friends were all like, "ah yes, the drinks here aren't really that good but there's that one sweet darling that makes them all so special which is why we keep buying them."

and john isn't like that. yeah he's old and divorced, and he's loaded as hell because he's got conglomerates and empires, but he's never been interested with women like that, especially those decades younger than him.

but then you came with your little cart and then john saw you in your pink and white cart uniform, and he realized he's just as bad as his friends.

so sure, whatever, give them six whiteclaws but—can you stay just a tad longer, sweetheart? can you give us a twirl? want to learn how to play?

[customknitfactory]

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[sadiesawyer]

Lily Park- basics.

general information.

full name Lily Min Park

nicknames Lil (really only from her brother)

preferred name Lily

age Mid- to late-20s

date of birth April 11

place of birth San Jose, CA

zodiac I don't know

gender Female

nationality American

religion Christian, Presbyterian

orientation Straight

physical attributes.

face claim Arden Cho

voice claim Don't really have one for her

height 5'2"

weight 105 lbs.

build Skinny, petite

exercise habits Light cardio and weights, occasionally surfing, golf and tennis

allergies Haven't decided any so far

hair color Very dark brown

hairstyle Straight, varies from shoulder-length to down to her upper back, usually somewhere in between

eye color Brown

glasses/contacts Glasses she wears semi-often, she has to have them to drive though she doesn't drive often

dominant hand Right

tattoos None

piercings Ears only

outfit/clothing style T-shirts, hoodies, jeans, skirts, usually on the casual side, she has to have help to get very dressed up

jewelry/accessories Earrings, cheap bracelets, necklace

background information.

hometown San Jose

current residence Santa Clara, CA

spoken languages English, some Korean and Spanish, a small amount of Chinese

driver's license Yes

occupation Video game programmer/hacker

familial information.

relationship status Single

mother Hana (Maiden: Choi)

father Daniel

siblings Older brother Robert, younger sister Mia

children None

pets She has a little yappy dog named Max

personality.

positive traits Intelligent, friendly

negative traits Impulsive, a bit self-centered sometimes

likes Video games, computers/electronics, surfing, snowboarding, golf, visiting (not living in) San Francisco

dislikes Driving long distances, humidity, high cost of California, spiders

moral alignment Lawful Good or Lawful Neutral

mbti ISTP or ISFP

[thardigang]

A dream I had a few months ago

My family took me to a fancy hotel in my hometown. If you could even call it a hotel. The place was infinite. It had both indoor and outdoor pools, the outdoor one included a minigolf course alongside the perimeter of the pool so that the wealthy guests could golf in swimwear.

I joined my family for poolside, but the memories of being a child during the 2008 housing crash jolted me into lucidity. I immediately threw down my golf club and walked off to no one's attention.

"Now this must be the most bourgeoise bullshit I have ever participated in." I mumbled as I pulled a shirt over my head. Freedom swelled in my chest like collecting vomit, and I decided I would use my new found freedom in the best way any free mind could ever conceive of: I would go to a bar and get drunk.

I ran back to my room, passing through the indoor pool who's entrance was a slide for some reason and I slipped and fell down, hurting my head. Finally reaching my destination, I put together a dashing outfit complete with my starchy brown hide jacket.

A walk on the town was exactly what I needed. The sudden night air cooled my temper, and a new smoothie/oat bowl bar with outrageous pricing for Missoula, Montana reminded me I hadn't gotten my wallet. So, with some protest, I returned to the hotel.

Attempting to avoid meeting with literally anyone, I took the rearmost entrance I could access. It was open, almost as if I was allowed. However, this hallway quickly became a descending set of stairs. I followed them downwards deciding that some light trespassing would make for a good evening adventure. I reached the bottom and found another hotel hallway, however there were no guest rooms here, only staff doors and closets.

One such closet near the end had a metal door and was left slightly ajar. I pulled it open to see it was a cleaning closet, with metal shelves lined with the exact same bottle of fluid. Hundreds of them. I picked one up.

The container did not have a spray nozzle, nor any markings denoting what it was. It was just a clear plastic container with liquid.

"Fuck." I thought, as I tilted the bottle back and forth I saw it was a thick, viscous, beige liquid. "This is fucking pus." I thought to myself.

I quickly set it down and looked back down the closet and noticed it had grown deeper and deeper. The pus bottles now numbered in the thousands. I ran through trying to find the end of the closet but only found a light. The light came from another room, separated by a door. It looked like another storage closet. I peered through the door and saw even more shelves full of pus bottles, and a man.

A man who looked like a janitor. A blue jumpsuit. Taking bottles seemingly at random and placing them in a cart. I hid, terrified of being found here. What if it was some sort of disgusting pus harvesting operation, and that man was the head sicko? Before I could really make a decision for myself, the man had gone. I followed behind and inspected the room.

So much. Too much pus. A suspicious amount. Dangerous even. I ran so hard and so fast I didn't even remember where I went and how I escaped, I just ended up back in front of my room.

At this point I thought, "Stephen King would fucking love this place." And as I was about to just get my wallet and pretend none of this had happened with the help of cheap whiskey, I noticed another open room.

Curiosity, as it usually does in these situations, got the better of me.

It was another very long room. It had about ten beds with very old metal bedframes, the kind that Oliver Twist and his friends would sleep on.

The bed closest to me pulled me in, I never moved to it. I crouched astride it and looked underneath, as if I was checking for midnight monsters like a kid. Lying there, was a single tiny piece of lint.

Then it sparked. A bright orange spark. Smoke began to grow out of the lint.

"Oh fuck." i thought as I pressed my thumb over the lint to extinguish it. But it burned brighter, and my thumb hurt to much. Now the burning lint was larger, and I placed my entire palm over it to kill it once and for all. Still, the flame kept growing and pushed my hand away.

"Fuck, Fuck, Fuck." I repeated as I could only watch. I was sure this my fault somehow.

The lint kept growing, so much so that it now had shiny black bits that looked like polished steel coming from one end. I recognized peering eyes being born from its face. Then, a long pointed beak, like a crow's came unfurled. Then the lint took the shape of wings, and the creature stretched it's body for the very first time. In the gaps between the strands of hair, I noticed this living bird made of lint was growing a spine. A spine so thin it was translucent. I saw the spine was filled with that same beige liquid, if a small amount.

I gasped in terror of what just came into being in front of me. The lint bird crowed.

I awoke.