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str4ng3r4ever-blog · 5 years

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Importance of Black Leather Jacket in in Young Generation

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shamelessly4shameless-blog · 6 years

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Vamps and Ghost Tramps .. or somethin’

This story comes from @gallavichb1tch ‘s awesome prompt about Halloween in the early days. Thank you for all likes, reblogs etc and thank you for reading :) Han xx

Ian grins as Mandy finishes applying the last flicks to his eye liner.

“There! Done!”

She steps back and admires her handy-work before sighing dramatically

“Why the fuck does God waste such gorgeous eyes on dudes?”

“What do you mean?”

Ian peers self-consciously into her mirror and blinks at his kohl rimmed reflection.

“You’ve got those perfect green eyes and even my stupid brother has that crazy pretty shade of blue and I just get weird hazel blobs like my fuckin’ dad.”

Mandy shakes her head sadly and then brightens, grabbing hair wax from the floor beside them

“OK, spiky or slick?”

Ian runs a hand through his thick ginger mop and shrugs. This is just a trial run for their trick or treat make up but Mandy is loving it so much and her excitement is kind of infectious.

“Um … what do you think?”

“Vampires can go either way.”

She tosses the little tub from hand to hand considering. There is a crash from the living room as the front door bangs open and Mandy’s face freezes, instantly watchful, listening intently.

“DAD?”

She calls, knuckles turning white on the hair product as she grips it. Ian stays silent but he is tensed and ready to either run or fight if he needs to. They aren’t doing anything wrong and they’re both fully clothed but this is the Milkovich house so innocence is no guarantee of safety. There is silence and then Mandy’s door swings open and Mickey Milkovich sticks his head around it, making them both jump.

“Nope, but bet you two assholes shit yourselves when you thought it was.”

“Fuck off, Mickey!”

Mandy throws the wax at him, missing in her fury and he grins through a mouthful of what seems to be chicken,

“Hey.”

Ian gives a dorky little wave and receives a brief frown and a middle finger, half covered in the too long sleeve of Mickey’s coat.

“What you doin’ anyway?”

His gaze keeps flicking back to Ian but he won’t fully meet his eye despite the dopey grin that the younger boy has on his face in greeting.

“Getting ready for Halloween.”

Ian pipes up as Mandy tries to kick the door shut in her brother’s face.

“Don’t talk to him, he doesn’t care, he’s just being a dick.”

She snaps, growling in frustration as Mickey shoves his way in and throws himself on the bed beside them.

“Get out of my room, douchbag!”

“Fuck you, bitch. I pay rent here, what the fuck do you contribute besides B.O and tampons in the trash.”

Mickey smirks pulling a box of chicken out from his parka pocket and tossing a piece at her. Mandy catches it and throws it back, hitting her brother square in the face. Mickey retaliates by wiping his greasy fingers on her pillow.

Mandy rolls her eyes and stands up. Mickey clearly isn’t going anywhere so it’s probably easiest to ignore him.

“You are such a fucktard. Ian, do you wanna drink?”

“Sure, whatever you have is fine.”

Ian nods. Mandy stands up and heads through to the kitchen

“Yeah, no, I’m fine, don’t fuckin’ ask me or anything!”

Mickey yells after her. She doesn’t reply and the silence in the bedroom is suddenly far too loud. Mickey shuffles uncomfortably and tongues at the healing scab of his latest split lip.

“You wanna bit?”

He doesn’t look at Ian but thrusts the box of chicken at him. It looks nasty, definitely cold and probably found rather than bought but Ian takes a small piece anyway, letting his fingertip graze Mickey’s hand.

“Thanks.”

Mickey jerks as if electrocuted and snatches his hand and box out of Ian’s reach

“Why you got fuckin’ make-up on?”

“Trick or Treat practice for Mandy. She said she didn’t have anyone to go with …”

“Yeah cause she ain’t got any friends and I’m not fuckin’ goin’. Shits for kids and crackheads.”

Mickey scoffs and Ian laughs, wiping his hand down his jeans to remove the food grease. Mickey’s lip quirks upwards, pleased to have made the red head laugh.

“Well I said I’d go with her. I’m not a kid or a crackhead though so …”

Ian shrugs and Mickey sets his teeth in his lower lip, considering.

“You definitely goin’?”

“Yeah, I’m gonna be a vampire.”

Ian winces as he says it, aware that he sounds like a little kid and that is definitely not how he wants Mickey Milkovich to see him. Luckily, Mickey doesn’t seem to have noticed and nods as if this is completely normal thing to say

“Sure well you’re already pale as fuck. Might as well use it.”

The boys smile shyly at each other and Mickey seems about to say something else when Mandy is back and tossing Ian a can of iced tea.

“Are you just gonna sit there being a pain in the ass all day?”

“No. Why would I want to sit with you dicks?”

“So …?”

Mandy opens her eyes wide at her brother and jerks her head toward the door. Mickey reluctantly gets up and stomps toward the door, trying his best not to look bothered. He gets to the door, hesitates and then turns round and glares angrily at them both

“I’m gonna come trick or treating.”

He snaps and Ian notices his hands are lightly clenched, as if he is steeling himself against something.

“Fine, but you’re wearing a costume.”

Mandy tosses the comment over her shoulder, running her hands through Ian’s hair, the retrieved hair wax at her side. Mickey follows the movement of her fingers through the thick red depths with obvious jealousy though he quickly drops his gaze when Ian makes eye contact with him.

“I don’t have a fuckin’ costume. I’m just coming to keep you dickheads safe.”

“Safe from what?”

Mandy wrinkles her nose and Mickey gestures impatiently to the outside world.

“Assholes who think a slutty cat or whatever the fuck you’re clearly gonna go as and a ginger fuckin’ vampire are easy targets.”

“Whatever.”

Mandy rolls her eyes but makes a mental note to change her costume and go as a slutty witch instead, she fucking hates it when Mickey is right about anything.

“Oh, hey, what do you think for Ian’s hair? Spiky or slicked?”

Mickey scratches his nose, frown deepening

“What the fuck do I care?”

Ian gives Mickey a look of his own, gratified to see two small bright patches of colour appear on the older boy’s cheekbones.

“Slick, I want it slicked back. Slicked is sexier than spiked.”

“You’ll look fuckin’ gangsta.”

Mandy nods approvingly, pushing his fringe back from his forehead. Realising that they have lost all interest in him, Mickey wanders through to his room, dumps his coat and scarf and then heads into the bathroom and runs his fingers through his own dark, spiky hair. He’ll have to grow it out a bit but … maybe slicked would be okay. Not that he fuckin’ cares what Gallagher thinks but yeah … why the fuck not? He can slick his hair back if he wants, it’s nothing to do with any other prick. Nothing at all.

Ian gets to the Milkovich house early and Mandy is still getting ready. She pops her head around the bedroom door and tells Ian to grab a seat whilst she finishes up and he perches a little awkwardly on the sofa in the empty living room. Heavy metal is pumping from one of the bedrooms and the shower is running and Ian is uncomfortably aware of a framed black and white photo of Hitler looking down at him from one wall. He really hopes it is just Mickey and one of the brothers in the house. He doesn’t think Mandy would leave him out there if Terry was around but still …

The shower shuts off and the bathroom door wrenches open. Mickey steps into the hall, completely naked and dripping wet and all the anxieties fly from Ian’s mind as the blood rushes rapidly south from his brain.

Mickey is using a threadbare towel to roughly dry his face and hair, completely oblivious to Ian staring at him. His body is lithe, pale except for a few bruises here and there and he has the sweetest ass Ian has ever seen. It’s not that Ian hasn’t seen Mickey naked before, and he is definitely well enough acquainted with his ass but normally Mickey is either growling at him to hurry up or they are pressed so close together Ian can’t see much except for the back of Mickey’s head or the completely distracting blue of his eyes. Black hair and blue eyes. That is what Ian thinks of when he envisions Mickey.

Now though he drinks him in completely in the space of several heartbeats and Ian realises with something of shock that Mickey Milkovich is achingly beautiful. Reality clicks back into place with a thud and Ian knows that if Mickey catches him, he’s going to be seriously fucking embarrassed which means he’s going to be equally pissed off.

Ian takes one last look at the breadth of Mickey’s shoulders, the sturdy muscles of his legs and the curly thatch of dark hair circling his dick like a halo and with a superhuman effort, tears his eyes away and launches himself across the room, banging the front door open dramatically and yelling

“Mandy, I’m back!”

He hears a bedroom door slam and when he resumes his seat on the edge of the sofa, Mickey is gone.

Mandy does Ian’s make-up and with practised skill and speed and by the time they’re ready, Mickey is sat on the sofa, his usual baggy jeans and dirty coat, smoking.

“Where’s your costume?”

Mandy asks sharply, instantly exasperated at the fracture aesthetic of their troop. She is in fishnets, sparkly shorts and a velvet bodice that she lifted from the sex shop on tenth, she’s already freezing but the startled and possessive look her big brother gives her as he looks up tells her that it’s going to be worth it.

“No fuckin’ way are you goin’ out in that.”

“Fuck you. I look amazing!”

“You look naked.”

Mickey snaps and then shakes his head irritably.

“You look like a damn tramp!”

Mandy quips back

“You’re gonna freeze your tits off and fuck you if you think I’m givin’ you my jacket.”

“I don’t want your piss-smelling jacket. Where is your costume?”

Mickey huffs an impatient breath through his nose and lifts up a plain white pillow case.

“Mickey …”

Mandy’s shoulders slump at the same time as his hunch defensively

“I’m a fuckin’ ghost … or Klan member … I don’t give a shit. It’s a fuckin’ costume, alright?”

“At least it covers your face. People see the local menace at the door they’re not gonna open up.”

Mandy sighs and Mickey flips her off nonchalantly

“I bet they can’t wait to open up for the local teen skank.”

“Hey!”

Ian glowers at Mickey who bugs his eyes, eyebrows raised in a gesture of surprise

“You got something to say, Gallagher?”

“Yeah, don’t call her a skank.”

Ian has his jaw set in that stubborn way that Mickey is coming to know pretty well and he rolls his eyes

“Whatever. You assholes ready?”

“Has that thing at least got eye holes?”

Mandy asks and Mickey looks momentarily flustered then puts the case across his lap and uses his cigarette to burn a couple of holes in the fabric, adding another for his mouth and grinning that shockingly perfect white smile at them both

“Does now.”

Despite his annoyance Ian can’t help but smile and the three of them set off into the Halloween night.

At first Mickey hangs back, letting Mandy and Ian skip up steps and ring door bells, he has a smoke poking out of the mouth hole of his pillowcase mask and although he doesn’t realise it, he actually looks pretty cool. The three of them share sips from a bottle of rum that Mandy found in a kitchen cupboard, no doubt stashed there immediately prior to one of Terry’s blackouts. Ian finds himself pulling closer to Mickey as the alcohol warms his blood and Mandy tucks herself to his other side.

The only one not swaying is Mickey and he has a whole other set of tremors coursing through his body.

Every time Gallagher bumps his elbow it sets his nerves skittering in all manner of directions and he can smell him even through the hair product and rum on his breath, that perfect scent that is all Ian’s own.

If he wasn’t so damn happy to be close to the red head, Mickey would be royally pissed. He specifically bashed one out with Angie Zahgo that afternoon to try and help him play it cool around Gallagher. He’d been so focussed on the memory of bright green eyes, made wider and brighter by the artificial black liner around them, that he’d even managed to make Angie sigh in contentment as opposed to her usual expressionless rocking.

But it hadn’t really worked because each time Ian looks across at him, his face covered in that sloppy grin, Mickey’s jeans pull a little tighter and the stupid plastic fangs that sit wonkily over Gallagher’s canines make Mickey think all kinds of kinky shit that he had no idea lurked inside his mind until just now.

It’s confusing and ordinarily Mickey would have shoved him away but there is something freeing about the pillowcase mask, the fact that no one can see he face, no one can read his happiness or his desire, not even Gallagher, so he lets the kid stay close and even tolerates a clumsily slung arm around his shoulders for a few moments before it gets too much and he has to move away.

Mandy stops, needing to adjust her fishnets which are trying to cut off circulation to one toe. Ian has his arms around her, propping her up whilst she fiddles with her shoe.

Up ahead a group of kids turn on one of their friends. There is a scuffle in which the lone kid tries to run but the others grab him and candy spills out of his plastic pumpkin basket across the side-walk. Mickey gives a small laugh but Ian makes a noise of distress.

“Oh! Shit! He’s gonna lose all his stuff!”

“Next time he won’t try to run like a little bitch.”

Mickey grunts but Ian is looking really upset for some reason and clearly wants to help. It’s something Mickey doesn’t understand about him at all, this always wanting to help people. Sometimes you just gotta accept that someone is probably fucked and just leave them to it, take care of yourself and move on but to Ian that way of thinking is completely foreign and he turns to Mickey with huge, upset eyes, made a little bloodshot by the booze

“What?”

“Can’t you help him? I would but …”

Ian gestures to his armful of drunken, shoe-less Mandy and Mickey frowns behind the cotton of his mask. He never knows what to do when Gallagher does this to him and it’s becoming more and more frequent.

Something happens, maybe some small stupid shit like this kid with his sweets and Gallagher turns and looks at Mickey like he’s some fuckin’ hero with all the answers and the means to fix shit. It’s weird and uncomfortable because if Gallagher had any real clue about Mickey he would realise that Milkovich’s break shit, they don’t fuckin’ fix it.

But Gallagher doesn’t seem to get that at all and he is still looking at Mickey, wanting more from him and Mickey doesn’t have the power to say no. He doesn’t even try.

“Fuck sake.”

He stomps toward the gaggle of kids, all around ten or eleven and grabs the fallen bucket from the hands of one and shoves it back into the frantic hands of it’s rightful owner.

“Right, all you little fuckers give this shitbag back his fuckin’ candy.”

“Who the fuck are you?”

One blonde haired zombie asks insolently and Mickey snatches his pillow case off

“Oh shit! It’s Milkovich!”

Mickey doesn’t think he has ever seen kids hand over candy quite so quickly and feels a weird little spasm of pride before remembering that he is kind of literally taking candy from babies. It might be so he can give it to a different baby but still… not cool.

He frowns and waves his hands, the pumpkin bucket is looking pretty healthy again and the kid holding it, some sort of werewolf missing an ear, looks happy enough.

“Right, okay … hey! Fuck! I didn’t say give him all of it. Jesus. Okay. Now fuck off.”

The children scatter and Mickey turns to the boy he rescued.

“Thanks Mickey!”

“You can fuck off too. Next time someone shoves you, you fuckin’ hit em back.”

He shakes his head at the absurdity of having to explain such a thing, takes a Reeces cup from the pumpkin bucket for his trouble, and marches back toward Ian and Mandy who are watching him with amusement.

“Aww! That was cute!”

“Fuck off.”

Mickey snaps at his sister, slipping his pillowcase back on. Ian hangs back a little as Mandy skips ahead, already looking to go to the next house, and taking a deep breath, he slips his hand into Mickey’s pocket, squeezing his fingers lightly. He feels Mickey tense but Ian removes his hand before Mickey can push him off and simply murmurs “Thank you.” before running to catch up with Mandy.

Mickey licks his lip and rubs the pad of his thumb over the tingling place on his palm that Ian just touched and smiles behind his mask, suddenly very glad he came.

“Hold up, douchbags!”

He yells and takes off down the street after them. A couple of vamps and a ghost tramp … or somethin’.

#shameless #shameless us #shameless fanfiction #shameless imagine #mickey milkovich #ian x mickey #ian gallagher #gallavich #mandy milkovich #Mickey and Mandy #halloween

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metricanxiety · 7 years

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this place is home to us

Genre: smut. don’t be mad.

Pairing: phan. dan and phil. phil and dan. who else?

AU: Punk x Punk because I don’t see this enough

Warning: Swearing, sex, the usual. Top!phil bottom!dan

Author’s Note: send me asks/requests!!! I will write them!!!!! I need prompts!!!! also keep this out of the main dnp tags pls ty

Phil dangled his feet off the platform of the train, swinging them with the wind that travelled through the cars. He picked and bit at the skin around his nails. The bite of the February air stung his nose, making his already pale skin turn red. He could hear the train tilting, with the metals shifting against each other. Phil had nothing to worry about, though. These trains, this station, hadn’t been in service since 1978. These trains weren’t going anywhere.

Which is why so many young artists have chosen this location as their graffiti area. The orange color of the trains were barely visible, covered by the paint creating murals of masterpieces that the almost the entire public population of Manchester would never see.

Phil contributed to the plethora of pieces as well. Starting at fifteen, he’d sneak out at two in the morning and take the tube to the closest station to his favorite location in town. His safe place.

Not that the comfort of his own home wasn’t safe to him, the sweet scent of cinnamon and freshly baked bread was more than safe. His parents never rejected him of who Phil was, their son who’s only artwork that didn’t end up on a wall ended up on his permanently carved into his skin with ink, turning his body into his canvas. The art covering his body was his own, his favorite pieces, and his parents loved the meaning behind the symbolism too much for them to say no to Phil’s first attempt to get his first tattoo at sixteen. Which was, obviously, a quote from his favorite song by muse.

But no, the reason the abandoned station was Phil’s safe place, was because that’s where Dan was. At least, that’s where they always met.

Dan, Phil’s beautiful Dan. He knew Dan hated it when Phil called him beautiful, because his exterior was just as vicious and intimidating as Phil’s. Except, his fringe went to the left where Phil’s went to the right. Dan also had red dip dyed tips, with a tongue piercing. Dan was so fucking hot.

Phil loved kissing Dan and hearing their lip piercings clang against the other, tearing off his leather jacket just to reveal Dan’s black ink covering the length of his arms, going onto his hands. Phil was completely and utterly in love with Dan Howell. His only weakness.

Which is why he was sitting in the freezing fucking cold at the station instead of being in the warmth of his home, under his duvet with a mug of hot chocolate and Dan tucked into his side. Despite his scary exterior, Dan was quite the softy. He was the sweetest guy Phil had ever met, he had so much love, and passion, for everything he did. And god, was he so fucking talented.

Yeah, they met at the station. Phil was there last August, reading and doing his English homework, when He spotted Dan set his backpack down at he train ahead of him, and started painting. Spray painting. And the piece Dan made, well, let’s just say Phil had reserved a spot on his body that he wanted to ink it on.

Phil could see the ink on Dans shoulders, and his arms, because since that day was particularly hot, he could feel the sex radiating off his skin, and all he wanted to do was sink his teeth into his skin. Come to find out (about three weeks later) to make things even more perfect, Dan was a desperate bottom. What did Phil do to be blessed with this ray of perfection?

But Phil was totally pissed at Dan, because he said he’d be here at ten pm Sharp, and it was definitely ten fucking eleven at night. He was eleven minutes late, and Phil was freezing. Sitting in a giant metal box in minus I-don’t-fucking-know weather was infuriating. He tucked his leather jacket closer to his body, wishing he didn’t wear his ripped jeans, only wanting to have his old, baggy sweat pants on.

Phil could hear swearing, and coughing, along with the crunch of the gravel as somebody walked closer to him, obviously it being the person he was waiting for. He sat up, bending his legs slightly, leaning on his elbows on his knees, looking like he was in a more relaxed position, watching Dan jump up into the car of the train, with, as it looks, three blankets thrown over his arm, a beanie covering his scalp. His fringe was slightly curly due to the moisture in the air. And Phil couldn’t stay mad at him. But he wasn’t going to let Dan believe that.

“Fuck, oh my god, I’m so fucking sorry I know you hate it when I’m late, but I forgot the blankets so I had to literally run back to the house and grab them from my bed, and I barely made it on the next ride over from the tube.” Dan dropped the blankets, kneeling down and kissing Phil’s temple. Phil smirked up at him, raising his eyebrows. “Aw, c'mon don’t be like that,” Dan paused, seeing Phil stay with the same ‘disappointed’ look in his face. He rolled his eyes, flopping next to Phil and wrapping his arms around the older’s torso, nuzzling his face into his shoulder. “Your bitchy attitude is actually the reason it’s so fucking cold, I guess.”

“Not my fault you can’t keep time.” Phil chuckled, draping an arm around Dan. Like he said, he can’t stay mad at Dan. He loved him, after all.

“Oh hop off it.” Dan groaned, crawling over to the blankets. “You can freeze if you don’t forgive me, bitch.” He wrapped all the blankets around himself, falling over to his side, laughing at himself. Phil chuckled as he watched Dan roll around on the train car floor.

“What did you smoke before you came here?” Phil joked, crawling over, pinning Dan to stay still. He unwrapped the blankets from Dan, taking the thinnest one and spreading it down onto the wood planks. So they had something to sit on, you know, just in case.

“Nothing. You know my hookup got arrested.” Dan laughed, shrugging off his jacket, and throwing it near Phil’s bag. He was wearing his Ramones vest, that was old, the armpits of the shirt were stretched super low, and Phil’s breath caught in his throat, seeing the patches of skin under the grey fabric, Dan knew what he was doing. Dan wore that on purpose.

“Oh yeah, because he was the only plug you had in your contacts,” Phil rolled his eyes, scooting back against the crates that have been left in this car for god knows how long. Dan giggled, kissing Phil’s nose. He grabbed one of the blankets, draping it over the two of them as he flopped into Phil’s lap.

It made Phil laugh, actually, how scary and violent Dan looked, having all the tattoos and piercings, you wouldn’t expect him to be cuddling into someone else, rather somebody submitting to him. But this was how Phil liked it.

Phil traced the black and white roses Dan had tattooed on his shoulders, peeking up onto his neck and back. Anytime Phil went higher than shoulder length with his fingers, he felt Dan shiver, and he switched positions, trying to make it harder for Phil to touch his neck.

“Phil stop!” Dan yelled, he was fully laying across Phil’s lap, his knees digging into Dan’s back, his head thrown back, laughing.“

“It’s what you fucking get for being late, again!” Phil was fully laughing with Dan, leaning down and kissing him on the lips. But it wasn’t really a kiss, because they didn’t stop their fit of laughter as their lips brushed.

Dan sat up, having his legs thrown to the other side of Phil, like bridal style, kind of, wrapping his arms around Phil’s neck. One of his hands brushed Phil’s dark blue fringe out of his face, having a dark look on his face. “Maybe I can make it up to you, then.” Dan gave an evil grin, making Phil quirk his eyebrow bar. “Would you like that?” Dan pressed his lips to Phil’s jaw, and the cool metal of his lip ring made goose flesh spread across Phil’s skin.

Phil sighed, letting his eyes flutter shut. His hand ran up and Down Dans back, feeling how cold he actually was, but Dan wasn’t doing anything about it. The only thing that provided a sense of warmth was the blanket on their legs, which wasn’t doing much by this point. “Here?” Phil panted. He could feel the smirk against his neck.

“Why not? It’s not like anyone else is here. It’s dark out, and I love you. And now, apparently I owe you. What other reasons do we need?” Dan kissed his way all the way to peck Phil’s lips once, before waiting an answer.

“Condom? Lube?”

“Got some in my jacket pocket. What else?” Dan was such a fucking tease before they had sex, but the second Phil took authority, he shut his mouth. He was very quiet during, well, you know. Intimate moments.

“I don’t know, how about some fucking warmth? Babe c'mon, we would literally freeze our balls off, it won’t be a fun experience.” Phil tried to sound light hearted, but Dan was being insistent.

“We have blankets for a reason, and we’re going to warm up anyway. It gets hot. We of all people know that.” Dan rested his head on Phil’s shoulder, looking up at him with puppy dog eyes. How could Phil resist.

Phil chuckled, rolling his eyes. He couldn’t believe he was about to have sex with Dan outside, in the middle of winter, on a fucking train. At least it was out of service.

“C'mon, please bubs?” Dan said, and Phil knew he was fucked the second he used that nickname.

Dan and Phil don’t even know how the nick name ‘bubs’ came about for them. Maybe it was short for ‘bubba’, or maybe it was a nickname of its own. They started calling each other it around September, and it just became a thing. But they rarely used it out loud, usually only over text. And Phil loved it when Dan called him bubs. He doesn’t know why, but it always just made everything seem more intimate, I guess. If a nickname could even do that.

Phil exhaled through his mouth slowly, his nose ticketing Dan’s hair, making it known that he was teasing Dan’s neck on purpose. He had a sensitive neck, sue Phil for taking advantage of that. He loved kissing Dan’s neck.

Dan let out a sound that was barely a whimper, no louder than a whisper, and Phil would have missed it if the wind had picked up in that moment. He reached up and pulled the beanie off his own head, tossing it aside. Phil tried to run his hands up and down Dan’s arms, to try and warm him up. They had barely started and Dan was already freezing.

“Are you cold already?” Phil asked, his tone gentle, and caring. Dan clung to him like cellophane, absorbing any type of heat Phil was giving off, which wasn’t much.

“I’m okay. I have a plan, kind of.” Dan’s teeth were chattering, and if you looked closely enough, his metal piercings could have been fogging up in the chill. “Can I, um, can I ride you?” Dan asked through waves of shivers. Phil nodded into Dan’s neck, making sure he felt the approval.

He pushed himself away from Phil, reaching for the button and zip of his skinny jeans, and undoing them as fast as the cold would let him. Phil took the opportunity to take off his jacket, and tug his shirt over his head. If Dan was going to be freezing, he may as well do the same. Phil reached for the other blanket, dealing it over his own shoulders or a layer of warmth, making sure the other one was close to Dan’s reach.

Phil pulled Dan close to him, kissing him with passion. They didn’t kiss like this often, where their tongue’s fought over each other, with their piercings almost getting in the way, but it was Dan’s favorite. Kissing Phil was amazing no matter what, but you could practically feel the electricity flowing between them when they kissed like this.

But they didn’t have the patience, or warmth, to take things slow. Dan repositioned himself so he was straddling Phil’s legs, their crotches right next to each other. Their lips reconnected, and Phil was holding Dan so close, he didn’t think there was any space separating their torsos. Since Dan was on top, he took the initiative, and began grinding his hips into Phil’s.

Phil let out a shaky breath, moving his hands to Dan’s hips to help him move better. He could feel Dan hardening against him, which only turned Phil on even more.

“Dan~” Phil sighed, bringing his lips to Dan’s neck, leaving sloppy, open mouthed kissed anywhere he could reach. Dan laid his forehead on Phil’s shoulder, giving Phil a better angle.

Phil never really left hickeys. The ink covering Dan’s neck would leave them barely noticeable, so he didn’t find a point in leaving them on his neck. He usually tried to leave them on his thighs, or abdomen, but tonight he didn’t really have the patience to do so.

Dan pulled back, bringing his hands to his shoulder blades, balling up the material of his shirt before yanking it over his head. Phil could see the bulge in Dan’s boxers, which made him want to move things along further, instead of just sloppy kissing and grinding.

He motioned for Dan to take off his boxers, and grab the proper supplies they needed, while he peeled off his skinny jeans, and underwear. The chill hit Phil quick, and it took all his power to not curl up into a ball under a blanket, and just forget about having sex. But Dan was fast enough that he didn’t have to do that.

Dan sat in the same place before, sitting on Phil’s lap, but this time the skin-to-skin contact made them hiss. This was always the best part, for Dan. Because even though nothing was happening, this was the build up. This was the start.

Dan remembered the first time they had sex, and he felt slightly like a slut for giving in so quickly. It was only three weeks after they had met, so they still didn’t really know each other. But Phil invited him over, and then Phil ended up kissing Dan on a whim, and that lead to well, everything else. But Dan doesn’t regret it. It was the start of their relationship, and he doesn’t know where he’d be, who he’d be, without Phil.

Phil leaned over and grabbed the third blanket, draping it over Dan’s shoulders so he wasn’t just out in the open frosty air. “You okay?” He asked Dan, kissing his collar bones.

“Mhm. Love you.” Dan exhaled, bringing the blanket around Phil (keeping it around his own shoulders so he didn’t freeze), holding it crossed at Phil’s back, making a little bubble for them.

Phil smiled, pecking Dan’s lips, whispering a 'love you more’ as he tapped Dan’s waist to get him to lift his hips up.

Phil grabbed the small bottle that was placed next to his thigh, squeezing a generous amount onto his fingers. Dan braced himself as Phil circled his rim, pushing his pointer finger in slowly. He gasped slightly at the intrusion, but quickly relaxed, making it easier for Phil to slip in a second finger, and begin scissoring.

Dan whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut. His fingers duh into Phil’s shoulder blades, and probably would have left a mark if his tattoos didn’t completely cover the area. Phil kissed Dan’s chest, trying to help him relax, and the cool of the snakebites soothed Dan slightly.

"Do you need me to slow down?” Phil asked, pumping his fingers in and out, eventually bringing his other hand to Dan’s hard on, stroking it to distract him.

No, I, jus-“ Dan stuttered, he took a deep breath, starting over. "No. I’m okay. Keep going.”

Phil chuckled at how different Dan was during their intimate times, he was usually really loud and obnoxious, but the second their clothes were taken off, he could barely utter a word, only moving if Phil asked him to, or if he needed to reposition. It was quite adorable, actually, it only made Phil’s heart warm.

He added a third finger slowly, after a few minutes of having two, so the stretch was barely there, but still needed. Phil never wanted to cause any extra pain on Dan, because he knew it was painful enough bottoming.

Dan started nodding, lifting his hips more to pull Phil’s fingers out. Phil reached for the packet next to him, ripping it in half, and pulling out the condom.

Dan took it from Phil’s hands, silently insisting that he’s put it on for Phil, which he did. The small touches on his cock made Phil shiver, but not as much as when Dan poured lube into the tip, and started spreading with his hands, giving Phil a mini hand-job.

“Are you ready?” Phil asked, rubbing circles into Dan’s side with his fingers. Dan nodded, taking Phil into his hands, and lining it up with his entrance. He began sinking onto Phil, hissing when the tip was fully inside him.

Phil used all his power not to buck up into Dan, and possibly hurt him. Dan’s eyes were already squeezed shut, trying to take the pain as much as he could.

“Fuck-” Dan let out, bringing his hand back to the other holding the blanket in place. He let his head fall to the crook of Phil’s neck, panting. Phil kept making circles with the pads of his fingers into Dan’s side, trying to have him focus on that, and not the pain of the stretch Phil’s dick was causing. The cold wasn’t helping either.

Dan had taken a good two minutes to bottom out, and even then, he needed to get used to the full length of Phil. So they sat there, both panting from the pain, and pleasure, until Dan started moving his hips, slowly at first. He lifted his head up, pressing their foreheads together, before picking up the pace.

Dan moved his hips back and forth, gasping anytime he changed the direction. Phil kept letting profanities slip, because he fucking forgot how good, and how much he loved, Dan on top.

Dan gripped both sides of the blanket, bringing the other one to Phil’s knee, so he could lean back, get a different angle when he bottomed out again. Phil let out a groan, and Dan threw his head back in pleasure.

“Phil-” he exhaled. “Oh my fucking- fuck.” Phil assumed he found the right angle to be hitting his prostate, and he probably wouldn’t be changing angles any time soon.

Phil leaned over and started placing kisses all along Dan’s torso, bringing one of his hands between them so he could start pumping Dan’s cock along with his own movements. The friction made Dan shriek.

“Dan, oh my god,” Phil let out, which encouraged Dan to go faster, until tears pricked at his eyes. It was so good, and Dan didn’t think he’d felt this way before. But he was getting slightly worn out, from moving so much, he began slowing down.

So Phil started thrusting his hips, noticing Dan’s fatigue. Dan had sat back up, having both arms around Phil’s neck. Dan pressed their lips together, messily making out with Phil as he fucked up into Dan, both chasing their orgasms quickly, but not surely to finish them both off.

Dan was really confused when Phil stopped moving, and was lifting Dan off his cock, making him whimper.

“W- what are you doing?” Dan asked, trying to stay clung to Phil. He was always really needy during sex.

Phil ignored the question, ripping the blanket that was around them and tossing it to the side. The cold his them like a bus, and Dan hissed, hugging Phil as close as possible, his heels digging into the small of the older’s back.

Phil flipped them over, now laying between Dan’s legs. Phil sat back on his heels, Dans legs still wrapped around him, bringing a blanket over his shoulders, which was big enough to cover both of their bodies when he laid back down. He held up his weight by his forearms bracketing Dan’s head, leaning down and kissing Dan.

“Warm?” Phil chuckled, Dan nodded his head minimally, smiling. Phil helped himself find Dan’s hole, and pushed back in, slowly, but not too slow that they were both waiting forever for things to pick back up. Dan let out a noise similar to a moan, but it being quiet enough for it not to be.

Phil started picking up the pace, thrusting his cock in and out, both of them panting, and moaning, but still staying quiet, just in case.

Dan reached between their bodies, and began to stroke himself, the other arm hooked around Phil’s neck, pulling his head down to kiss him. Well, 'kiss’ him. They were breathing so heavily that they had to settle for breathing each other’s air, making their lips brush together.

“Phil, I’m, c- Phil,” Dan tried to form coherent sentences, but he couldn’t when Phil was hitting his prostate dead on, with his thumb running over his slit, he thought his eyes would roll to the back of his head with all the stipulation he was receiving. Phil knew what he was trying to say, and kept going, but harder.

Dan let both of his arms fall, bringing them away from Phil and his cock, and letting them lay above his head. He was caught in such pure bliss that he couldn’t bring himself to do anything else but let Phil finish them off. He blinked back tears, and as Phil his his prostate again, but even harder than the time before, he felt his gut knot up, making Dan jerk his body up and hug Phil as he came, coating both their bodies in ribbons of white. Dan cried out, as Phil finished himself after three more thrusts.

They collapsed, falling over after Phil pulled out. They didn’t push each other away, however, Dan was too fucking needy to do that. He curled into Phil’s side, breathing in his musk, kissing Phil’s chest. Phil ran his fingers through Dan’s hair as he caught his breath.

Dan, unfortunately, didn’t bring any tissues, or napkins, or anything to clean themselves up with, so they used Dan’s beanie to wipe off, he would just wash it in his next load of laundry.

When they had finally calmed themselves down, they both got up to quickly dress again, and would probably start heading home soon, much to their dismay.

“Will you just come over?” Phil asked, zipping up his jeans, and running a hand through his messy hair.

“I have work at nine tomorrow.” Dan pouted. It’s not like he didn’t want to go over to Phil’s, but he had responsibilities that he had to take care of.

“You’ll be out before then, it will be fine,” Phil persuaded. “I’ll set an alarm so you have enough time to run home.”

Dan smiled, nodding his head as he slipped his arms through the sleeves of his leather jacket. “Fine.”

“Oh don’t sound so disappointed, shit head.” Phil laughed, smacking Dan lightly. Phil threw his bag over his shoulder, hopping off the platform of the train car. Dan followed quickly after, leaving the blankets inside. Phil started pulling the metal slide, closing the train car. They always kept stuff in their, whether it be blankets, a change of clothes, or their paint bags. They had figured out how to open and close those things a while ago, so it was safe to do it.

Dan grabbed Phil’s hand, walking next to him as they left the station, and headed for the nearest tube entrance. It was almost midnight, so they didn’t have to deal with anybody staring as they made out the entire ride to Phil’s.

But Phil had decided one thing that night, it wasn’t the fact that the station was his safe place, it was Dan that made him feel thy way. Dan was his home, his comfort. Dan, who he couldn’t imagine his life without.

A/N like i said, send me requests, i will write them, PLEASE. also i wrote most of this on my phone so im sorry if there are a few errors, i will try to edit it later but im too lazy to do it now oops

#phanfiction #phan fluff #phan smut #faniction #dan and phil fanfiction #phan smut oneshot #smut oneshot #phan oneshot #metricanxietyfics

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vipipiblog-blog · 5 years

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#Casua

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fashionfanaticsposts · 6 years

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HEY GUYS! MANY OF US STRUGGLE TO FIND CLOTHES THAT ARE APPROPRIATE FOR A SPECIFIC OCCASION BUT SOMETIMES IN THE END, WE COME TO OUR GOOD OLD JEANS AND SEE THE POSSIBILITIES OF WEARING IT FOR A CERTAIN OCCASION. WELL, I AM HERE TO SOLVE A LITTLE PROBLEM OF WHAT TYPES OF JEANS YOU CAN WEAR FOR A CERTAIN OCCASION. JEANS CAN BE STYLED IN ANY UNIQUE WAY, THESE ARE JUST SOME OF MY OPINIONS THAT MIGHT BE HELPFUL TO YOU TO CHOOSE A SUITABLE JEAN AND STYLE IT IN YOUR OWN WAY! SO LET’S GET STARTED:

1) TRAVELLING

WE ALL LOVE TRAVELLING AND ADVENTURING BUT IT IS ALWAYS IMPORTANT TO CARRY A PERFECT PAIR OF JEANS THAT ARE COMFORTABLE YET STYLISH THROUGHOUT THE JOURNEY. THE JEANS THAT WILL BE SUITABLE FOR TRAVELLING ARE:

A) BOYFRIEND JEAN

BOYFRIEND JEANS ARE SO COMFORTABLE YET STYLISH OUT OF ALL THE TYPES OF JEANS IN MY OPINION. THEY ARE PERFECT FOR TRAVELLING AS THEY ARE SO COMFORTABLE AND IT IS EASY TO MOVE AROUND IT THEM. I UNDERSTAND THAT TRAVELLING BECOMES REALLY TIRING AND CHANGING CLOTHES AGAIN AND AGAIN FEELS LIKE A TASK BUT YOU CAN NEVER GO WRONG WITH THE BOYFRIEND JEANS AS THEY ARE SO EASY TO PUT ON AND PULL OF. THEY LOOK REALLY GREAT WITH A BODYSUIT OR A FITTED TOP AS THE JEANS ARE ALREADY BAGGY SO , YOU NEED TO A TIGHT FIT ON THE UPPER HALF OF YOUR BODY TO MAKE YOU OUFIT LOOK BALANCED

B) CAPRI JEANS

CAPRI JEANS ARE BASICALLY 3/4TH PANTS IN DENIM. IN MY OPINION I DON’T REALLY LIKE CAPRI JEANS BUT I HAVE TO ADMIT IT THAT THEY ARE PERFECT FOR TRAVELLING IN A HOT SEASON AND IF STYLED RIGHT,THEY WILL LOOK PRETTY COOL. THE CAPRI JEANS DO NOT SUIT ME WELL BUT IF THEY SUIT YOU , THANK THE LORDS FOR THAT LOL. THEY CAN BE STYLED WITH A SIMPLE WHITE TANK TOP OR WITH AN OVERSIZED T-SHIRT AS WELL. IT IS A VERY COOL LOOK FOR TRAVELLING AND CAN BE A PART OF YOU AIRPORT LOOK AS WELL. JUST ADD SOME ACCESSORIES SUCH AS HEADPHONES, RINGS , CUTE SHOES AND YOU ARE GOOD TO GO.

C) OVERALLS

OVERALLS IS A BIG NO NO WHEN IT COMES TO TRAVELLING BECAUSE THEY ARE NOT VERY COMFORTABLE , FEELS TIGHT AND IS ESPECIALLY NOT APPROPRIATE FOR HOT WEATHERS. THEY CAN BE STYLED IN VARIOUS KINDS OF WAY , CASUAL OR CLASSY AS I WROTE A BLOG ABOUT THEM ( IF YOU WANT TO CHECK IT OUT CLICK HERE ) BUT IT IS JUST NOT RIGHT FOR TRAVELLING AS IT MIGHT BE HARD TO PUT ON OR REMOVE FAST IN AN EMERGENCY AND WHO WANTS A TIGHT FITTED OVERALLS WHILE TRAVELLING . YOU CAN GO WITH SOMETHING A LITTLE BIT MORE COMFORTABLE THAN THE OVERALLS IN MY OPINION.

D) THE DON’TS

ALL TYPES OF CASUAL PATTERNS WILL LOOK SUPER COOL FOR A TRAVELLING DAY . SOME OF THE PATTERNS THAT I THINK ARE THE BEST AND APPROPRIATE FOR TRAVELLING IS RIPPED OR SCRATCHED PATTERNS AS IT LOOKS EDGY, COOL AND CASUAL WHICH IS PERFECT FOR A TRAVELLING OUTFIT. BOTH DARK DENIMS AND LIGHT WASHED DENIMS LOOK GREAT FOR A CASUAL OUTFIT. TRY NOT TO INCLUDE TOO MANY PATTERNS SUCH AS PATCHES , PRINTED OR EMBROIDERY , KEEP YOUR OUTFIT FUN AND SIMPLE AT THE SAME TIME.

2) BUSINESS CASUAL

SOMETIMES YOU JUST HAVE TO DRAG JEANS IN YOUR FORMAL OR BUSINESS CASUAL OUTFIT WHEN YOU HAVE NOTHING TO WEAR. HERE ARE SOME TYPE OF JEANS THAT WILL BE SUITABLE FOR A FORMAL LOOK:

A) SKINNY JEANS

SKINNY JEANS ARE THE MOST PERFECT YET SIMPLE JEANS TO WEAR AS A FORMAL OUTFIT. JUST A SIMPLE PLAIN JEAN CAN BRING A ELEGANCE AND CLASS TO YOUR WHOLE LOOK. IT CAN BE STYLED WITH A CLASSY AND SIMPLE RUFFLE SHIRT OR WITH A LONG OR SHORT BLAZER. ANKLE LENGTH OR CUFFED. SKINNY JEANS ARE PERFECT FOR ANY FORMAL OCCASION LIKE MEETINGS , ETC AND CAN REALLY BE A BASE FOR YOUR STATEMENT LOOK. I WOULD SUGGEST YOU TO GO FOR SOMETHING INTERESTING ON THE TOP WITH KEEPING IT CLEAN WITH A PAIR OF SKINNY JEANS. THE SKINNY JEANS MUST BE A MID-RISE OR HIGH-RISE BECAUSE LOW-RISE JEANS DON’T LOOK CLASSY AT ALL AND ARE MORE TOWARDS THE CASUAL SIDE.

B) BOOT CUT JEANS

YES I INCLUDED BOOT CUT JEANS IN A BUSINESS CASUAL LOOK. I FEEL LIKE BOOT CUT JEANS ARE SO CLASSY FOR A BUSINESS CASUAL LOOK AND IS COMFORTABLE AS WELL. THE BOOT CUT JEANS MAKES YOUR LEGS LOOK PRETTY LONG IF STYLED WITH A TIGHT FITTED TOP. BOOT CUT JEANS WILL LOOK GOOD IN EVERY DENIM COLOR LIKE BLACK, DARK DENIM BLUE OR LIGHT WASH. BOOT CUT JEANS ARE FROM THE 90S AND ARE BACK IN TREND AND ARE LOVED BY STYLISTS AND FASHIONISTAS. YOU CAN STYLE THE BOOT CUT JEANS BY GIVING IT YOUR PERSONAL TOUCHES , BUT DON’T FORGET, YOU ARE GOING FOR A BUSINESS CASUAL LOOK , SO DON’T FORGET TO ADD SOME SLEEK AND SIMPLE HEELS AND MAKE THE OUTFIT LOOK SIMPLE AND CLASSY AT THE SAME TIME. TRY ADDING SOME TINY EARRINGS WITH SIMPLE BRACELET OR RINGS ON YOU FINGERS AND A CUTE YET CLASSY HAND BAG TO MAKE THE WHOLE OUTFIT LOOK COMPLETE.

C) THE DON’TS

BUSINESS CASUAL OR FORMAL LOOK IS ALL ABOUT MAKING YOUR OUTFIT LOOK SIMPLE AND BEAUTIFUL AT THE SAME TIME , SO IF YOU ARE CHOSING JEANS AS THE BOTTOM FOR YOUR OUTFIT, DO NOT INCLUDE FLASHY PATTERNS SUCH AS RIPPED OR SCRATCHED PATTERNS. TRY NOT TO INCLUDE PRINTS AND PATCHES ON YOUR JEANS AS YOUR OUTFTT WILL LOOK UNPROFESSIONAL. OVERALLS ARE AGAIN A NO FOR BUSINESS CASUAL. OVERALLS ARE TOO CASUAL THAN BEING A LITTLE FORMAL. IF YOU ARE WEARING A TYPE OF JEAN TRY NOT TO WEAR LOW RISE JEANS AS YOU NEED TO LOOK MORE ON YOUR SOPHISTICATED SIDE AND NOT TO LOOK MUCH EDGY.

3) HANGOUTS AND PARTIES

EVERYBODY GOES TO PARTY VERY OFTEN AND HANGOUT A LOT AND THE GO TO CLOTHING PIECE THAT WE ALL OFTEN WEAR IS A JEAN BECAUSE INTEAD OF BEING COMFORTABLE THEY CAN BE A LITLE FUN TO WEAR AND STYLE. LET’S SEE THE TYPES OF JEAN THAT ARE VERY SUIABLE FOR PARTIES:

A) WIDE LEG AND FLARE JEANS

WIDE LEG AND FLARE JEANS ARE SO TRENDY NOW IN 2018 AND IT IS PERFECT FOR HANGOUTS AND PARTIES. THEY SHOULD BE STYLED IN A RIGHT WAY TO ACHIEVE A GLAMOROUS LOOK. THESE JEANS ARE SO FASHIONABLE AND WILL COMPLIMENT STATEMENT CLOTHING PIECES LIKE SEQUIN OR SATIN FABRIC TOP THAT ARE TOO LOUD BUT CAN BE BALANCED WITH A STUNNING PAIR OF JEAN. IT CAN BE STYLED WITH A CLASSY WIDE BELT , SOME NICE PAIR OF BLOCK HEELS AND IF YOUR JEAN IS OF ANKLE LENGTH YOU CAN EVEN ADD AN ANKLET AS WELL. THESE JEANS ARE MOSTLY SUITABLE FOR PARTIES OR CLUBBING.

B) OVERALLS

OVERALLS ARE FUN AND APPROPRIATE FOR A HANGOUT OR PARTY LOOK. AS THE OVERALLS ARE MUCH DIFFERENT FROM A SIMPLE PAIR OF JEAN , THEY CAN BE STYLED IN A VERY UNIQUE WAY. YOU CAN EVEN PLAY WITH THE STRAPS OF THE OVERALLS MAKING IT LOOK EDGY. YOU CAN STYLE YOUR OVERALLS WITH A NICE TEE OR A CROP TOP UNDERNEATH WITH SOME BLING JEWELRY AND PRETTY SHOES OR HEELS . TRY ADDING A FANNY PACK AS IT IS VERY TRENDY IN 2018. THE OVERALLS ARE MOSTLY SUITABLE FOR HANGOUTS AND BRUNCHES.

C) THE DON’TS

THE DON’TS FOR THESE JEANS ARE THAT DON’T GO FOR THE SIMPLE TYPE OF JEANS BECAUSE IT WILL LOOK GOOD BUT THE OVER ALL OUTFIT WILL LOOK KINDA BORING. TRY SELECTING SOME RISKY JEANS THAT YOU CAN PULL OF REALLY WELL. FOR EXAMPLE YOU CAN CHOOSE FLARE JEANS THAT HAS FRINGES ALL OVER AS IT WILL BE A PERFECT OUFIT FOR PARTIES OR SELECT AN OVER ALL THAT HAS PATTERNS LIKE RIPPED, SCRATCHED, PATCHES , PRINTS, ETC

4) SCHOOL/ COLLEGE

YOU HAVE TO CHOOSE A PAIR OF JEAN THAT IS REALLY COMFORTABLE YET STYLISH FOR SCHOOL/COLLEGE . THE JEANS THAT YOU CAN WEAR FOR TRAVELLING WILL ALSO BE APPROPRIATE FOR WEARING AT COLLEGE/SCHOOL LIKE THE BOYFRIEND JEAN, CUFFED JEAN AND YOU CAN EVEN WEAR SKINNY AS WELL AS OVERALLS TO SCHOOL/ COLLEGE. SO SOME TYPE OF JEAN THAT I MENTIONED IN THE ABOVE THREE POINTS ARE SUITABLE FOR SCHOOL/ COLLEGE.

THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH FOR READING THIS BLOG AND I HOPE YOU FOUND IT HELPFUL. MAKE SURE TO LIKE AND FOLLOW MY BLOG FOR MORE SUCH FASHION CONTENT. YOU CAN EVEN COMMENT DOWN BELOW YOUR SUGGESTION AND QUERIES. FOR BLOG AND YOUTUBE VIDEO UPDATE YOU CAN FOLLOW ME ON INSTAGRAM, TWITTER AND FACEBOOK. . DON’T FORGET TO CHECK OUT MY YOUTUBE CHANNEL AS WELL. HAVE A NICE DAY!

BYE FASHION FANATICS! 🙂

HOW TO STYLE DIFFERENT TYPES OF JEANS| FASHION FANATICS HEY GUYS! MANY OF US STRUGGLE TO FIND CLOTHES THAT ARE APPROPRIATE FOR A SPECIFIC OCCASION BUT SOMETIMES IN THE END, WE COME TO OUR GOOD OLD JEANS AND SEE THE POSSIBILITIES OF WEARING IT FOR A CERTAIN OCCASION.

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castlepinesmusic · 7 years

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Chapter 1: Cassiopeia

The Showcase Special was a red brick building complex on Main and 6th in Corona, California. A concrete and metal sprawl jungle built in the mid 70’s. The shopping center the Special stood in housed a variety of Mexican botana markets selling treats, chile mangoes, pinatas and fire crackers. The Showcase Special bordered its north brick wall with a Coin-Op laundromat, next to that was a Chinese apothecary and foot massage day spa called the Jade where a 1 hour full body massages cost 20$ plus tip. The Chamber of commerce for the city was not sure what do with the plot of land, originally opening up the building area for venturing entrepreneurs and white businessmen, the shopping center became a mishmash of Central American check cashing and call centers, Chinese herb medicine women, an alcoholics anonymous coffee center, tweakers, prostitutes, punk rockers and skaters. So the city officials slowly let the line out on the potential for an upper crust shopping center and let it become the community hub of poor immigrants and transients nesting a run down strip mall with what little comforts they could establish from their former countries.

“Eso es un ‘gang bang’”

Armando, one of the taquero cooks on the flat-top grill of ‘Taco Super’ explained to Carl, the handicapped kid that frequented the strip mall daily. Armando laughed and looked over the dirty sneeze guard separating the clientele from the sweating cooks.

“How many friends you want for ‘gang bang’? Aguas Carlitos?”

Armando chuckled as he looked at Carls face trying to make out the sexual situation he described in detail.

“That’s gross Armando! Ewwwwwww!” Carl was starting to picture all the naked and perspiring bodies hovering over a taco and doing nasty things to it.

“Este pinche Carlitos ni sabe tetas!” Ener Montez, the chubby Mexican handling the boiling pots in the corner said without looking up from his slow and steady stirring.

Carl slapped his hands onto his thighs and kept a slowly burning yowl,

“How could you do that? EwwWWWWWwwwWW!”

Carl grabbed the neck of his tamarind soda and walked out the back exit of the taco shop as Armando and Ener continued cackling. The fly shield above the backdoor was old and blew loudly without providing the protection from the pestilent insects hovering above the hot pans of beef maws and tongue and carnitas and roasted serrano chiles and Carl walked out to the dumpster area where Moony was rolling a cigarette in his right hand and clasping a paper-bag wrapped bottle of whiskey in the other.

The Special was split into two businesses, by day the front foyer below the marquee served as a soda stand and record store, peddling beat up demoes in brown paper bags recorded in hot garages by shitty local teenage bands. The marquee lit up at night, blue fringe lining the white marble incandescent panels with stock black lettering displaying the weekly touring bands coming through town. The second business was a nightly affair, an all ages music venue that had no prejudice on what kind of weird and violent teenage angst was going to be screamed through the sound system. They had to constantly book acts, and the only way to pay for the overhead was to let them all play. Crust punks, smelling of plastic bottle, bottom shelf vodka would sew black and white patches to the only pair of jeans they owned around 5 o’clock in the evening, always with a dirty styrofoam cup begging for loose coin. The pyscho-billy kids walked around dripping of pomade and indifference that they had not been alive in the Greaser scene of the early 60’s, cuffed denim pants and smoothly combed hair that crested in an oily pompadour high fiving the sky and American Jesus in the clouds. The goths hated god, yuppies and nice cars, and made sure their eye-liner and black t-shirts reflected this sentiment on the off chance that a chipper ass soccer mom with a tight ass and a stroller full of impressionable toddlers crossed their paths. All the different kinds of metal kids hated being labeled a sub-genre of Metal that they were clearly not fans of. The Black Metal kids hated being associated with the drunk assholes that came to thrash metal shows, and the death metal kids never really said shit but hated all of the tools in the shed the same.

The gutter punks were friendly, usually playing a beat up guitar with 2 out of tune strings for money in front of the 99 Cent store so they could get a one of the many colorful homeless folk to buy them a 40 oz of Mad Dog or King Cobra. The homeless had their own rites and rituals and hierarchy of law on who slept in which dumpster lot and who would go to Cupids on Tuesdays to buy a bag of 99 cent hamburgers for the group, and who would suck a dealers dick for some smack and who would share the drugs, and who would keep a look out for the cops when they were using at the park or in the loading area behind the Special. The Cholos and Crazy Vatos Locos wore tight, sweat stained wife beaters and sagging baggy khakis and they were constantly seeking wandering eyes from a punk or metal kid so they could take his wallet or her purse and beat their ass. They carried around rolls of quarters they usually stole from the coin-op, they would hold the roll of quarters in their fists when they jumped some one, it was like getting hit in the face with a plank of wood, and cops couldn't confiscate it because it wasn't a gun or a blade. Most of the gangster Mexicans were kids, trying so hard to be hard, between the ages of 9 and 19, the older vatos were the scarier ones, old school cholo gangsters that got shit-faced on the weekends at a homies house, making carne asada and “pistiando” with chelas. There was an unspoken truce between the Mexican gangsters, the homeless drug addicts, the punkers and scenester kids, a mutual understanding of each others lot in this lower class social strata of suffering for scraps, they were in an accordance with one another, they hated the cops and rich yuppies.

Then there was Jay, an employee of the The Special record store and Soda stand. Working almost everyday from 10 in the morning until 5 at night, donning faded band shirts, glasses and a smoldering quiet demeanor, Jay stocked records, tapes and price tagged products and ran a paper printed cash out at the end of every shift. The Armenian owner of the Special, Rendy Smith Sami, was a kind man and a good boss, employing Jay for over 5 years and providing the only all ages venue and record store within a 100 mile radius. Jay would open the record store everyday, 4 aisles of halogen lit shiny plastic and vinyl, and everyday at 5, the daily sales button was hit on the register and the machine would buzz and chirp for 20 seconds carbon printing the haul for the day. Jay would wrap the cash out receipt around a small stack of 20 dollar bills walk up the stairs to Rendy’s office and drop it in the cash box outside his locked door. Everyday for 5 years, Jay would do this routine, with the carnival of characters and action right outside the doors of the special. Watching kids driving in from Anaheim and Los Angeles for a show that night, Jay watched them vigilantly, making sure they didn’t steal a secondhand Rick Springfield “Jesse’s Girl” single or a Donald Duck Pez dispenser.

Rendy was in the record store today, in the office, doing his weekly sales on a tattered spreadsheet, it was 4:55 in the afternoon and Jay was wiping down the soda counter and pouring a coffee for later.

Rendy came down the stairs from his office into the main aisle of records, pensively looking at the wooden display stands and holding his chubby chin with one hand, a look of frowned pondering wriggled its way onto his bushy eyebrows like a frightened caterpillar.

“We sell more CD discs than tapes Jay?”

He spoke a little louder than usual because the Addicts record that Jay had put on was still droning away on the store speakers.

“Just the older used ones, no one likes those new CDs you put out there. Shit is lame.” Jay didn’t look up from the cash register.

Rendy still had a puzzled look on his face, staring directly at the new Petunia Cooke albums he bought from his distributor. Petunia was hot, young and what little clothes she wore on the front of her Cd cover left his testosterone saturated Armenian imagination reeling.

“You no like Petunia?” Rendy asked with his eyes still fixed on the display stand and the pretty blonde pop-star on the front cover.

“She is sexy as hell, but i would rather put my head in the trash compactor than listen to that bullshit. It probably sounds the same.” Jay quickly glanced at the Petunia display stand.

“Sounds same? She sounds same as what?” Rendy was still imagining slow dancing with Ms. Cooke on a hill in the Armenian village he grew up in, under a gentle moonlight, the aroma of roast goat permeating the cool night air.

“She sounds like some one put her head in the trash compactor!” Jay held back a smirk and a giggle.

“Oh she sound like she dying, like she in the compactor.” His pronunciation of compactor sounded more like protractor, “she go ahhhhhh ahhhhh ahhhhh” partly screaming in pretend pain and trying to hit the high falsetto Petunia sings on her hit single “Candle Shade Babe”.

There was a ring of the bell above the front entrance door and a woman with slicked, crunchy hair sauntered briskly to the front counter where Jay was standing. She placed her briefcase on top of the glass counter without any regard to its flimsy and shitty craftsmanship.

“Where is your brother?” she said as she looked down into a yellow steno pad, scribbling nonsensical scratch.

Jay pushed the cash drawer of the register in until it made a click and rang a bell.

“He is out back with Moony, I mean Ronny I think…”

The staunch businesswomen slowed her writing and leered over the brims of her glasses with here piercing pupils and stared condescendingly at Jay,

“He is out back? Jaimie I need you both in here, I need to talk to Carl and his closest living relative and that is you, his sister.”

Rendy knew when the social worker for Jay and her brother Carl was here and when she meant business so he slipped out the fly trap of the back door and went to find Moony and Carl.

Ronny Maine was a 50 year old homeless man trapped in a 70 year olds’ decrepit body, resembling a leather bound book with pages hanging out the sides and corners. The years of amateur title boxing in Scotland had caught up with his rattling bones and stretched his sinewy tendons into a gelatin mush of heavy breathing and hand rolled cigarette juice. Everyone called him Moony because his big, puffy cheeks would get red and full when he drank and he looked like a smiling full moon.

“It is a pretty day when you stop blaming things and people for who you are. Stretch your arm.” Moony shook his left shoulder from the base and jiggled like a dying fish, “Your right arm as far as it can go. Go ahead. Take your right arm and stretch it out. Ain’t got a right arm?

Use your left arm.

Ain’t got arms anymore?

Use your legs and your toes.

Ain’t got legs no more?

Use your nose, or your eyebrows or your goddam tongue.”

Moony wasn't looking at anything but the sky behind the dumpster.

“I know you got a right arm, I see it right there, your right arm is right there boy!”

Moony’s own right arm pointed down ecstatically at Carl’s right arm, buried and sheltered by his black sweater and hunched right shoulder. Moony’s eyes spoke as loudly as his slow rolling mouth,

“Take your arm and shove it out straight like this

and point your finger straight at anything you want.” Moony kept pointing and building a louder voice.

“It’s not their fault, it’s not your fault, its nobodies fault, stop trying to put that weight on someone else. That weight, that shame, that pain, that twitch and tick was always there my boy. And you gonna have it until the good Lord Jesus calls you home, and you might even have it still there up in heaven.”

Carl slowly slid both of his arms from his bottom and dragged them on the concrete. He wriggled his fingers and wiggled them like it was the first time he had seen his own hands. Carl and Moony stood there by the dumpster for the better half of 3 minutes.

Carl made a maddening fist and then slowly let it go.

The red and strained skin released as veins fed to the rest of his appendages and bled into an off white color of skin he could recognize as normal. Moon took a swig off the brown bag in hist left hand and wiped 3 beads of slowly creeping sweat from his left eye brow without winking or squinting.

Carl became vocal and interjected loudly,

“This is not me and I am not me or you Moony… I am me” Carl proclaimed as he watched his hands.

Moony smiled.

“That’s exactly what Paco said to Harvey when both him and Harvey landed on the planet of Mandoloids. Tired and angry at one another. Being a bunch of assholes.”

Moony looked off at the wispy heat of clouds rising into evaporated nothing.

“Harvey and Paco had been in that junk heap of a space ship for the better half of 7 months, floating around out there in the Cassiopeia constellation system. Lots of big bright super nova’s and swirling and quiet space dust and they were stuck in this greasy sail ship of the sky.”

A wiry and subtle smile started to take shape at the right side of Carls mouth, “They were flying out there? They were flying out there in outer space huh? Moon? They were making dinners in the spaceship?”

Moony smiled with the bottle in his mouth and spilled cheap, bottom shelf whiskey on his chest.

“Hell yeah they were making all kinds of food on that spaceship, thats why it was so greasy. The both of them were on a mission, but the space council made sure they could eat all the things they liked. Plenty of helpings of canned beans and sauce and freeze dried pork bits and crispy plantain chips and banana mush. They had onions and potatoes and Paco would cook one night and Harvey would take kitchen duties, they ate really well, probably better than they would eat here on earth.”

Carls smirking mouth changed from a half built smile to him licking his lips,

“They eatin’ bananas and fried pork?”

“Not just that, they had 9 barrels of flour and oil so they could make tortillas and breads and they were eating a finer way than any of the kings and presidents and emperors here.” Harvey finished the last 2 sips of his whiskey,

“They had to eat well on the count of them searching for the Mandoloids and the bomb they were making. Harvey needed at least 8 hours of sleep and Paco couldn’t disarm a thing if he wasn’t eating good, wholesome meals.”

Rendy was standing to the left corner of the dumpster that Moony was standing and listening with a dumb smirk.

“When NASA disbanded and they became the Solar Security Agency, they were trying to protect our little rock from all the riffraff and space trash trying to hurt us. They sent these hunks of steel out from every part of the globe with two men, one was the Captain and the other was a disarmer. The Captain was older, seen some shit. The disarmer was younger, usually a Mexican, Black or Chinese and they were there to help the captain and cook and when the time came, they were there to disarm the Mandaloid planet bombs. Harvey and Paco were sent to the Cassiopeia constellation to hit every planet orbitting a star. The Mandoloids were vultures up in the desert sky but they killed planets and life before any other living thing could get to it. That was the real Space Race, that was what they were doing, they were protecting our futures.”

Rendy had a drawn out smile of a fool. He slid past the corner of Moony and gently placed his hand on Carls shoulder. Moony gave one nod, walked behind the green, beat up dumpster and Carl followed Rendy inside.

#music #indie #literature #DIY #reading #tweeter #blunksdalinker

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alisonfloresus · 7 years

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On the cowboy clothing fashion design

1.Modern cowboy clothing color

Modern cowboy clothing popular colors are earth colors or natural color, such as coral, camellia red spoon lip blue, brick color, the color of wheat, olive green and smoked blue. Marbled the universe galaxies style tie-dye, daylight severe bleaching and moonlight washing effect. 201l spring and summer men’s jeans new trend. Raw denim fabric with black washing, embroidered mere mention of black became the dominant color of the 2010-2011 autumn and winter fashion week in Milan, New York show floor cowboy. The metallic luster this season’s new denim color and fluorescence, both coating finishing, including metal colored yarn woven practices.

2.Modern cowboy clothing popular pattern

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3.Modern cowboy clothing fashions

The two mainstream form of modern denim clothing styles Slim and loose money. The Slim models embody slender visual effects, both high waist shorts or tight-fitting dresses and trousers, or handsome motorcycle jacket, tailored fit completely stressed out woman Sex tight curve. Focus on low season loose money crotch structural design, baggy low-crotch gradually evolved from the previous quarter’s boyfriend-style and carrots jeans narrow leg style lines.

4.modern denim garment finishing process

Modern denim garment finishing process: high temperature setting, local pleating, play sand, whipped, laser carving, enzyme, stone, sand blasting, tie-dye, cat whiskers, silicone oil, bleaching cowboy clothing presented antique wash color, of artificial Shuahen dimensional level different levels of chromatic aberration. The finishing style antique, vintage strong handling, such as heavy drift, wear white washing; fabric flat, smooth, lightweight, wrinkle-free. Severe wear and tear holes in the wear effects patch patch, severe bleaching, embroidery color moonlight washing has become a major design means of the 2011 autumn and winter. Surface shiny coating, resin finishing or metal texture effect denim has become particularly important in the winter of 2011-2012 autumn fold effect interpretation of 3D stereo effect processing more flexible Distressed effect patch treatment will also replace the torn and hole in the details, and ultra-soft touch finishing the season’s biggest hot topic.

5.The details of the design of modern cowboy clothing

Detail design affect the design of the modern cowboy clothing style focus, modern denim clothing has become more emphasis on hand-embroidered with hollow handle, splicing overlap of different colors and materials, as well as embroidery, beaded, fringed, wear, wool beard, hand-dyeing techniques processing to form a rich surface texture effects. Pockets and other details of the site design, decorative Series line change different styles, various split stitching, key parts of the torn, frayed, crimp and texture effects the appearance and function combined details design makes the endless stream of denim clothing style.

6.modern cowboy clothing new denim fabric

The extensive use of high-tech in the denim fabric brought a new vitality to the modern cowboy clothing cloth. Denim mixed with fiber yarn in the traditional sense of the new varieties of bamboo fiber denim, pearl fiber denim. Coolnice – Lycra cool denim fabric better absorb sweat and body surface cool function makes modern denim clothing; New knitted denim fabric is more comfortable than the traditional woven denim, soft, breathable. Pearl fiber denim fabrics with a powerful far-infrared warm function and anti-ultraviolet function, pearls Fibers more than 10 kinds of amino acids and trace elements in the mechanism also has a role in health care.

7.fashion trends of the modern cowboy clothing Outlook

Environmental, functional and technological

Functionality and comfort and environmental protection will be the focus of the modern cowboy clothing popular. Environmental protection and green concept is deeply rooted in the hearts of the people will lead the cowboy design new direction. Pearl fiber, bamboo fiber blend of new fiber in the denim fabric and weaving process gives the denim fabric Xihan row of moisture, soft and comfortable, mothproof, anti-bacteria and functional characteristics. Biodegradable environmentally friendly denim production technology extends to the denim fabric is non-toxic pollution pollution and waste in the production process.

Feminine, stylish and diversification

Future, denim clothing will appear more feminine traces, ultra-tight underwear, outer wear, lace, straps, embroidery Ting beads, mysterious and strong ethnic element, will be a change in the rugged and handsome cowboy, showing soft and feminine characteristics. Jeans design wind Cells is closely related with the fashion trends, the combined quarterly fashion color and fashion design theme showing the new design style diversification jeans.

from JournalsLINE http://journalsline.com/2017/06/24/on-the-cowboy-clothing-fashion-design/ from Journals LINE https://journalsline.tumblr.com/post/162213655460

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