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#bootboys
skinheadforlife · 6 months
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SKINHEADS Mateusz & Thomaz, Sweden, 2020.
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Entra en la web para ver todos los modelos (actualmente 25) o para realizar el pedido. #skinheadboots #punkboots #skingirlboots #steelcapboots #punterametal #skinhead #skingirl #punk #Punkrock #Streetpunk #oiifthekidsareunited #skinheadshop #skinheadstyle #bootboys #bootgirls https://www.instagram.com/p/CoC9MFQttld/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
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surfer12 · 1 month
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keep-your-boots-on · 2 months
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every time we get a confirmed alive woman in halo, a warthog gets its wings or some shit.
Anyways, I never played Halo Wars 2 but Kinsano is a woman and alive in May 2559 which is more than I can say for a lot of women in Halo. And her design kicks ass.
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yewelshtabby · 6 months
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it's finally here..... sensible haircut......
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rbbrbikerthorp · 2 years
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James Disappears (From James’ Perspective)
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[Thank you for the messages asking for a version of James’ Disappearance from James perspective, so here goes - hopefully it ticks all the boxes]
James was sitting on the number 13 bus; the one he hopped on to at college and would stake him on the twenty minute journey into town. He was going over what he’d learnt in college that morning. 
He smiled as his mind drifted off his books for a few minutes thinking about the day ahead. After work he was getting together with his old schoolmates for a five-a-side football match. Then he was going to the cinema with Emma, his girlfriend for the past two years. James reflected on just how perfect life was. He was getting a great start in life, supported by a loving family. He’d passed all his exams and was now splitting his days between studying at college and working in an entry level position in one of the town’s accountancy firms. But somewhere in the back of his mind, from time to time he would hear a little voice speaking. Every once in a while it managed to capture his attention, ‘was this the life he wanted or was it the life his parents planned for him?’ 
James was brought back to reality as he heard the bus driver call out, “central bus station, all change”. He quickly gathered his books and picked up his rucksack. James jumped off the bus to begin the five minute walk to the accountant’s office he worked in.
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James wasn’t really paying much attention to his surroundings when he bumped into a guy standing on the footpath in front of him. He looked up, first noticing the shaved head, “oh, I’m sorry” he said as he looked down to see a pair of tall black boots with white laces, extremely tight jeans that looked like they had been splashed with bleach tucked into the boots. He looked back up to see the guy was wearing a long coat and he was smoking. Like the rest of his family, James hated smokers. From what he could tell this was a very weird smelling tobacco.
“Excuse me”, James said meekly as he tried to get passed.
“Oi oi m8, what’s the rush”? the skinhead replied, blowing the smoke in James face “don’t you like m’ clobber m8″?
James didn’t know what to say. 
The skinhead then inhaled more smoke and blew more of it right n James’ face. The smell was so strong, James couldn’t help but start coughing. “You’ll get used to it m8, don’t worry. Now, look at m’ boots m8, don’t you think they look great? They feel great. Bet you’d like a pair of boots like these. Bet you’d like to be like me. Not a worry, not a care”.
“No... no... th.. thanks, I... excuse me, I need to get going”, James stuttered.
“Nah, you don’t m8, just think how great these boots would feel tightly laced on your feet. Na one would mess wiv ya m8, wearing these. Look at them, don’t they look great”. All the time the skinhead kept blowing smoke in James’ face.
James felt compelled to stare at the boots, his mind was becoming more and more fuzzy. Was it something in the smoke? He was supposed to be going somewhere wasn’t he, but where? To anyone watching James looked like a lost sheep.
James watched the skinhead drop the cigarette he’d been smoking stomp on it firmly with his boot. He watched the skinhead get the pack of cigarettes out of his coat pocket and light another one up. James was frozen on the spot as he watched the skinhead repeatedly inhale and blow the smoke right in his face. Each time the skinhead blew smoke, James could hear questions, “You like my boots, don’t you, you think I’m hard, don’t you? you like skinheads, don’t you? You wanna be my skinboi, don’t you?” Over an over the questions were repeated. The fuzziness in James head got worse. He found it harder and harder to think. He couldn’t string any words together so he just started nodding in response to the skinhead’s questions. 
In split second the skinhead took a long drag on the cigarette and then pulled James towards him, and as he kissed him exhaled the smoke directly into James’ lungs. James felt the skinhead’s tongue probing his mouth. James gasped and the skinhead immediate pushed his tongue in. He was was in no fit state to fight back, so he simply started snogging the skinhead. 
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James ‘came up for air’. He didn’t know whether there was something in the cigarettes or the smoke, but he was experiencing sensations in his body he’d never experienced before. He was intoxicated by this booted stranger. He couldn’t stop himself moving back in for another long skinhead kiss. The skinhead finally broke the kiss and said, “leave your stuff. Follow me skinboi”! In James’ fuzzy mind there was no option but to comply, so he dropped the pile of books that were in his hands, the took the rucksack off his shoulder and left it on the ground. “Right boi, let’s go”!
With no idea of what was in store for him or where he was going, James followed his new skinhead mentor. like a puppy follows its new owner. They walked through a part of town James was unfamiliar with. The buildings looked derelict, and there was graffiti everywhere. Despite a sense of unease, James continued walking two paces behind his new skinhead companion. 
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Eventually they came to a stop. The skinhead reached into his pocket and this time pulled out two cigarettes, put both in his mouth and lit both of them. He took one out and handed it to James, who instinctively put it in his mouth and inhaled. “Right boi, tell me yer name”? the skinhead asked blowing smoke in James’ direction. 
“Er... it’s James”.
“Well that won’t do m8. I can’t have a skin boi with a pon-see name like James. From now on you’ll be known as Jim... Jimskin. I’m Gaz and this is my place, nothin’ special but it’s from where the new you will emerge, the new Jimskin. You know you want it boi. I know you need more to your life than working in an office. Let’s go”. And with that they entered the building together. 
The skinhead led Jim, who was still smoking his cigarette, into the bathroom, “right lad, strip and I mean everything. Then we can get started”. While Jim removed all his clothes, including his underwear, Gaz went into another room and returned with a chair and a pair of clippers. 
“In the chair boi”, Gaz commanded.
He didn’t know whether it was the effect of the smoke or being naked with this powerful skinhead in front of him, but Jim, the [soon to be former) student sat passively in the chair. The voice that questioned his perfect life, his ambition to be an accountant was louder than ever. The scene (and the smoke) was having the desired effect on Jim, and Gaz was pleased to see what was happening. “Yeah boi, this is it. This is what you want. I knew it see it in the way you looked at my boots. I’m gonna make you the perfect skinboi. I’ll train ya. I’ll show ya how to dress proper. I’ll make sure you get a real job” (emphasising real). With that he pulled another cigarette out of the packet and placed it in Jim’s mouth. He lit it and smiled contentedly as Jim, without any prompting started to inhale the smoke. He could see his boi relax. Gaz set to work.
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CLACK! The familiar sound of clippers being turned on. They made quick work of James’ hair. Gaz switched them off and took a few moments to admire his work, “Boi, you look so much better now. I bet you feel better too”.
Jim wasn’t so sure. He looked somewhat dejected as he saw his brown locks fall onto the floor, capturing some clumps of hair in his hands. Suddenly the diligent, studious career boy reasserted itself and he started having a panic attack.
“M8, m8 calm down, what’s the problem”?
“The problem is I look a complete fuckin’ freak, that’s what the fuckin’ problem is”, Jim retorted. (Gaz was pleased that Jim had used a profanity for the first time. Gaz would ensure that Jim’s vocabulary became more basic and that most sentences would include a swear word or two).
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“Look boi there is no problem”. With that the skinhead got another cigarette out of the packet and said, “here smoke one of these, it will help calm you down”.
Jim smoked the cigarette and found that he was starting to like being a smoker, he even asked Gaz for another one. “No problem”, came the reply from Gaz, smiling, “but if you’re going to be a smoker, you’re paying for them out of your wages alright”.
“Wages”? James questioned.
“Yes boi, wages, but not from working some snooty desk jockey job. Wages you’ll get from proper work; where yer hands get dirty. Now listen to me. You’re gonna get dressed now, and in proper skin gear. I’m gonna let you have some of my spare stuff and later you can pay me back, if yer know what I mean. Yer gonna be my skin boi and yer gonna dress as I tell ya. Yer might not be sure about what’s happening to you right now, but in time yer gonna love being my boi. I’ll make sure of it, now get up and follow me, Jimskin”. With that the newly shaved Jim got out of the chair and followed Gaz into the next room. 
“Let’s het you kitted out”. Gaz opened the cupboard door and took out a load of clothes. He picked out a Fred Perry polo shirt in black with yellow piping, a MA1 bomber jacket in green, “and these are jeans I bleached m’self, they’re called bleachers. They’re Levi’s 501s, and I will show you how to bleach them when we get you a couple more pairs from the shops, but these are ready for you to put on. One more thing, as my boi you’ll wear my jocks. Now put this on first”, as he handed Jim a jock. 
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Gaz then opened another door to reveal several pairs of black boots, in a range of heights, each with laces of different colours. Gaz picked up a pair which had white laces that were already partly laced up, “yeah these are perfect for my boi”.
Gaz smiled at Jim, and held out the pack of cigarettes. With no hesitation, Jim took one and put it in his mouth. Gaz held out his lighter and lit the cigarette, like a proud father watched the end turn bright red as Jim inhaled the smoke that was making his conversion to skinboi so much easier. “Right, get the rest of the clobber and then I’ll show you how to lace up your boots proper.
Jim started dressing. Already wearing the jockstrap, he pulled on a pair of white football socks, first up his left leg, then on his right. Then he pulled on the bleachers; they were skintight and cut off just below the knew. Gaz walked over to Jim and attached a pair of white braces to the back and front of the bleachers and pulled them up onto Jim’s torso, letting them twang on the boi’s shoulders. Gaz adjusted the braces so they lifted the bleachers as far up into Jim’s crotch as possible. He ran his hand over Jim’s arse, ensuring the bleachers were pushed into the skinboi’s crack. "Yeah boi, very nice" was all that Gaz needed to say.
“Right, let’s get yer boots on. Now, there’s a special way to lace these boots boi. I’ll show you what to do with the first boot, but then yer on yer own. Right? Now sit down”!
Jim sat in a chair whilst Gaz sat on a small stool in front of him. He pulled the boi’s booted foot and set it on his own crotch. Gaz was able to feel the sole of boi’s boot pressing on his own bleachers."Now listen, take one end of the lace and push it in the top hole. Then thread the other one through each hole in turn starting at the bottom and go up, like a ladder”. Gaz continued to lace up the boot onto Jim’s leg. “When you’ve done, just wind round the rest of the lace and tie ‘em tight at the top. Easy eh”?
"I’m not sure I get it." Jim said, feeling as though he’d never do it right. “Anyway, does it have to be so fuckin’ tight"? 
"Oh yeah, that's part of the fun boi, you'll never forget you've got a fuckin’ pair of stompin’ boots on ya”. Gaz said confidently, “right you do the other boot.”
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Jim followed the instructions Gaz gave him, whilst Gaz watched closely to make sure they were laced properly and were ‘as tight as fuck’.
Gaz watched intently as Jim laced up the other boot. He smiled at how quickly James had accepted his new life as Jimskin. How he was allowing himself to be turned into a skinboi. Not once had he mentioned his college, parents, accountancy job. That had all been suppressed and would soon be forgotten as Jim immersed himself into the skinhead life Gaz had planned for him. 
“Right, stand up lad. Put this on”. Gaz handed Jim the green MA1 jacket, “follow me”.
The pair went into the bedroom, which just happened to have a full-length mirror. Jim stared into the mirror and gasped at his reflection. The boots on his feet, the Fred Perry shirt and braces, his zero-cropped head and the tight bleachers. Without a thought, his hand went down and he rubbed his crotch. Inside the jock, his cock was growing rapidly, so much so that his hard-on was impossible to hide. Gaz smiled. "You like it, don’t you boi"? said Gaz. “Well, this is what you are now Jim, you’re my skinboi and there’s more modifications I’m gonna get done”. With that Gaz grabbed Jim and pulled him onto the bed and into a long, a very long snog.
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"Are you happy now boi”? Gaz asked, handing Jim another cigarette, and taking one out for himself.
“Yes, Gaz, yes, I fuckin’ am”. Jim replied, lighting up.
Jim spent the next couple of days getting to know Gaz intimately and what was planned for Jim’s new life. Gaz worked for the gas company, and they were short of labour and looking for apprentices. Gaz had promised the boss that when he returned from his week’s leave he’d bring along a new starter; Jim was going to be that man. Gaz also told Jim he’d train him to be the perfect skinboi and that he should get some ink and piercings, but only when he was ready.
It was the end of the week, Jim was venturing out of Gaz’s home for the first time as a skinhead.
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Jim was introduced to Gaz’s mates and they had a few beers to welcome the new skinboi. As Jim was adjusting his socks, he looked up to see a woman stop abruptly, and she looked back him. Jim thought he recognised the woman, but he couldn’t place where he’d seen her before.
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nuclearbummer · 9 months
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coolatta fam can be an interdimensional bureaucrat, son made of code, a fucked up bootboy, eli vance's daughter, eli vance's daughter's girlfriend [ daughter in law ], and soon a cowboy
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skinnbollen · 9 months
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PURE SKINHEAD, PROUD & STRONG
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skinheadforlife · 6 months
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SKINHEAD Benitho Santos, London.
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Entra en www.barrio-obrero.com para ver el catálogo completo o para realizar el pedido. #skinheadsantirracistas #workingclass #skinheadshop #trojanskins #oioioi #antifaschistischeaktion #accioantifeixista #antifascistaction #afa161 #skinheads #skingirls #skinbyrds #bootboys #bootgirls #antifa #fcknzs #trojan #ska https://www.instagram.com/p/ClYsWPbtNAW/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
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surfer12 · 3 months
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keep-your-boots-on · 1 month
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❤️ Dehner ❤️ Weston ❤️ and more
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mousegirl-cheerleader · 8 months
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gryphsdeadbones · 1 year
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Team Nightshade
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