#rick dress

[newestcool]

Rick Owens f/w 2012 rtw Creative Director Rick Owens Photographer Gianni Pucci  Newest Cool on Instagram

[zeep-xanflorp]

creators saying in the behind the episode vid that they wrote diane according to what she'd actually be like as rick's wife, and not according to what morty would imagine her as. this is FANTASTIC to know actually.

she's a woman who can give it back to rick. who can be sarcastic and witty with him. she's intelligent in a way that's independent of being with rick, who finds charm in his nihilistic philosophy. she isn't this perfect obedient housewife. she has grit and drive and opinions that don't match with rick's and that makes her compelling. i am 200% more invested in her character after her added screen time.

what i mean to say is that diane has agency, and i am so fucking relieved about that.

[siriusly-the-best-bi]

Sometimes you read a book where a kid stuffs fruit in his cargo shorts and you’re laughing at the absurdity, but then sometimes your an adult at the airport stuffing apples into the pockets of your cargo pants thinking god fucking dammit the sun lamp kid was right

[grimesgirll]

you like to match.

maybe it’s a remnant of the old world, back when your biggest problem was how well your outfit was received.

most of the time, you had to dress practically. whenever your group came across an untouched clothing store or cache of quality clothing, the priority was typically finding seasonally appropriate clothing and weather gear, fresh undergarments, new shoes, socks, etcetera. you rarely had the opportunity to put together a real outfit. it was all layering and just taking whatever you could carry. practicality had you collecting cargoes in every color.

rick enjoyed your style; you made an effort to look put together when you could and post-apocalypse, all it took was you finding a pair of jeans that actually fit to propel him from checking you out to tearing them off and bending you over the nearest surface.

daryl thought you were a mall rat. he takes the opportunity to make fun of you and your fashion sense while you’re out on a run.

“this is an abandoned kohl’s, not mooningdale’a or wherever the bitch from ‘friends’ worked.”

you giggle at him. “you mean bloomingdale’s?”

“whatever.”

the two of you are scavenging the former shopping center in search of any edible food, water, tools, anything for judith, just anything that could come in handy. winter coats and appropriate weather gear were pretty large priorities as well.

you thumb through racks of clothing, estimating if it suit fit the person from the group who you were mentally fitting. from flannels for carl, onesies for judith, and boxers for rick, you’re tossing your finds over your arm like an associate was about to come up and offer you a basket.

the pile you’ve accumulated is ditched on an ottoman in the shoe department when a pair of boots catches your eye.

“fuck,” you whisper low enough for daryl not to hear. the brown leather boots have you salivating at the mouth. god, you have nowhere to wear those but if you did…

you’re forced to pick your jaw up off the floor when daryl comes around.

“find anything worth bringin’ back?” his arms are full with everything from tool kits to batteries.

you shake your head. “nope, not much. i’m gonna grab a cart though,” you mention, gesturing to the haul in his arms.

“just don’t get a squeaky one in case there are any walkers lyin’ round.”

“of course!” you chirp, hand wrapping around the metal handlebar as you pry it from a line of other shopping carts.

daryl dumps his finds in and while his back is turned, you toss in the pair of boots. a layer of two of tissue paper on top seems like a good enough disguise.

then the two of you are back to walking the sales floor. you can’t help but watch daryl as he walks in front of you. your breath hitches when you notice how tightly that shirt clings to him - to his rather large arms specifically. you’re so engrossed in how he pushes the cart that you almost miss the gadget out of the corner of your eye.

suddenly you’re doing a double take and walking yourself back to the electronics section.

“you makin’ a documentary or somethin’?”

you turn over the camcorder in your hands. “maybe.” you smile at your traveling companion. “you can take me on one of your hunts and i can get some footage.”

“spook all the deer while you’re at it.”

laughing at him, you flip the screen fully open and put the recording device up to your eye. “maybe i’ll make a survival documentary. video diary or something.”

daryl is walking up to you and flipping the camera shut as soon as he notices the viewfinder trained on his groin.

“what?” you cry, immediately putting on a fake pout. “you don’t wanna make a porn with me?”

“baby, this is a kohl’s.”

you shrug. “what’s it matter? i’m sure people made porn in kohl’s before. wanna go to the dressing room?”

“i don’t think we have time for all that-,”

“ah, i think we do.”

despite his protests, you tug him away from the electronics section - camcorder in your back pocket - and make a beeline for the dressing room.

rick and daryl didn’t like you leaving alexandria without them.

most of the time they made you write them a list as opposed to letting you window shop in the wasteland yourself. so something so mundane as using a dressing room is kind of exciting to you.

the man with a hand in yours rolls the cart up to the dressing room attendant’s desk.

daryl frowns when he notices the boots under the tissue paper. “baby, the fuck’ are these?” he holds up the most gorgeous pair of boots you’ve ever seen.

your lip quivers. “the best pair of shoes i’ve seen since atlanta.”

“how the fuck are you gonna run from walkers in these?”

“uh, i won’t.” you spit.

“you mouthin’ off?”

“never.” you promise with a chuckle.

daryl just shakes his head. “put ‘em back.”

“i think i’ll keep them.”

“really?” he pushes the cart aside to stand in front of you, close enough so that you can feel his body heat radiating towards you.

you offer a playful smile. “i think you just need to see me in them first. then you’ll be convinced.”

with that, the two of you are darting into a dim dressing room - boots in hand.

it doesn’t take long for you to hear the fitting room door swinging open, announcing that rick has found you two.

“we were just discussin’ the merit of her wearing underwear.”

you’re glad the three of you are confined to the handicap dressing room. you wouldn’t want anyone to see your blush when rick gets a cocky grin on his face.

he takes in the sight of you with your jeans pushed down and his best friend next to you, another finger toying at your underwear.

“well, you know my answer.”

you don’t need to ask the constable; he’d make it law for you to go commando at all times if he could.

“yeah, i don’t think you need ‘em.” the younger man agrees.

“why is me wearing underwear such a debate?” you question with a wistful smile. “you two spend awfully more time talking about it than it off.”

“why don’t you show him your boots first?”

you lift an eyebrow, and a leg and do a little kick, still mindful of the intimate dressing room. the light falls on the posh leather boots in such a fashion that you’re forgetting you snatched them off of a shelf at kohl’s.

rick whistles. “you look great in them, darlin’. i’m curious where you think you’ll be wearin’ then though.”

shrugging, you settle back down onto the seat and begin freeing yourself from the leather brown boots. “not sure. they’re pretty to look at though.

“that they are.” rick agrees.

“why don’t you keep ‘em on?”

you raise an eyebrow. “i thought they were,” you make air quotations with your fingers, “shit boots.”

rick sniggers. “so mean to her, dare.’”

you nod, zipping a boot back up. “really.”

“i think you should apologize to the pretty lady. tell her you like her boots.”

you teeter a boot a foot above the ground invitingly. daryl falls to his feet in front of you with a frown that you know is a front. as soon as he’s faced with your inner thighs, his hands are laid out on top of them, and he’s iterating beneath you,”

“i’m sorry ‘bout your boots, baby.” he states, eager fingers inching closer to your waistband again. “i think you look fuckin’ fantastic in ‘em. but where are you gonna wear em’?”

you have an answer but as he peels back your panties and leans in to face a mere few inches from your dripping core, your response is stuck in your throat. it takes a sharp inhale to regain your thoughts when his finger and tongue begin tempting you at the same time. rick leans against the wooden paneled wall, crossing his arms at you.

“you know they’re gonna be hard to match with all your other clothes. not that you don’t have enough.” rick sighs, running a hand through his hair like he’s thinking about storage and reveling in spectating daryl touch and tease you. “you already filled up the closet last time you came out with us. you’re gonna have to call rosita over to take some of it off your hands.”

you roll your eyes. they’re telling you that you need to get rid of clothing like every other month. when it comes time for them to make you bag up anything you’re willing to part with, you typically found some way to end up on your knees or with them bending you over something. that usually gives you another month.

“i thought daryl was saying sorry.” you grumble, smooth legs kicking playfully in protest until daryl has them pinned against the seat, his tongue licking furious stripes from the top of your clit down to your aching little hole.

“baby, you’re so wet.” daryl comments, lips smacking with your slick.

“as always.” rick jeers, walking over to sit next to you. “hey, doll,” he greets into your mouth.

needy and bucking into daryl’s soft mouth, you return the kiss with a fervor that rick’s not expecting. he groans at the bruising brush of your pillowy smooth lips against his.

you’re reaching your hand to the side to grasp at him when you instead find your camcorder. remembering your original plan, you pull it forward onto rick’s lap.

he only chuckles into your mouth when you open the video camera and aim the lens on the man going to town between your legs.

“you forgive me, baby?” daryl inquires with the addition of a finger.

you nod up and down. “fuck, i forgive you, dare’. you’re so good with your mouth.”

rick’s smile turns upside down when he notices how shaky your hand is getting as daryl brings you closer to your first p.m. orgasm. he brings a steady hand up to relieve you of your cameraman duties.

the opportunity presents itself to fall back into rick so you take it. his chest is pressed snugly against your backside now as he angles the camcorder to catch the downright debaucherous scene occurring in this kohl’s dressing room.

your legs are quivering and you’re chanting daryl’s name when he removes his fingers and goes all in on your pussy.

rick clasps a hand on your mouth. “shh, honey. don’t want the others to think somethin’s wrong.”

“mhmmm,” you shudder against his hand.

the pleasure daryl’s been doling out to you comes in the form of a mind numbing orgasm that washes over your tensed form from head to toe. daryl doesn’t slow down either as you cost his face in your sweet slick. he’s licking patterns into you and you swear he’s trying to paint the alphabet across your cunt as you ride out the delicious pressure your boyfriend is treating you to.

“how are you gonna walk back to the car?” rick asks you, pulling your face gently towards his to cup your chin and engross you in another kiss. he only separates from you to pass the camcorder off to daryl and lift your thighs.

“might have to carry you.” daryl muses and begins undoing his belt.

“rick, you’re gonna fuck me, right?” you crane your neck to lock eyes with the man entering you right then and there.

“fuck, give me a moment, darlin’.” rick shakes his head as you grind against him, unable to think straight.

you’re catching your breath when you look up and notice the blue eyed man behind the somehow closed camcorder. bless him.

“i think you have the cover on,” you giggle and stretch using your tippy toes to flip it back for him.

once the red light is on your face, rick yanking your tank top off and attacking your bare chest with open mouthed kisses. the nipple he pops into his mouth pebbles even more at his touch. his mouth coupled with the all encompassing stretch you’re enduring is drawing every moan you can muster.

he cements a grip on your hips to raise you up and down on his cock in his lap. the plushnsss of your ass is making him feral as he’s met with that same pillowy softness upon every meeting with his pelvis.

daryl keeps the camera on you, rick, and the mess you’re creating in your laps. he shuffles to stand next to the seat and offers you his now nude cock which you happily take into your mouth, earning him a better angle in the process.

the camcorder captures you oohing and aahing around daryl as rick fucks the past few hours of tension out of you. nothing like justifying fucking your brains out in a dressing room on stress and performance.

the girthy man in your mouth is thinking the same thing. daryl hisses when he hits the back of your throat and you gag. he’s fucking your throat even faster once he catches sight of his dick disappearing in and out of your pretty pink lips on the screen.

like a seesaw, you rock up and down on rick. the way rick is thrusting upwards into you has you moaning pornographicly around his best friend’s length. it’s only so long before you have to give in. you’re rolling your hips frantically and making the most debauched noises around daryl.

that’s all it takes for the archer to twitch in your throat. you’re prepared to swallow but before you know it, he’s backing his cock out of your mouth and holding it directly in your face, pumping with one hand and recording in the other.

“watch out, rick,” he warns.

and just like that his cock is in front of you, spurting and coating your face.

“does that go with your outfit?”

[yourprobnowdumdum]

Pinterest gives me ideas

[zegalba]

Rick Owens autumn/winter 2001

[zephyyross]

the thing i'm currently looking forward the most of season 2 is grover in the wedding dress and the demigod diary where aryan - grover gets the wedding dress fitted. along with that, i need an episode of say yes to the dress featuring walker, leah and aryan where randy fenoli fits aryan the perfect wedding dress

including: 'aryan, are you saying yes to the dress?'

and i feel like this could be bigger than tom hollands umbrella-performance 💃

[rianphin]

[pondhue]

💌🩸💔

dress based off of/inspired by this one

[invisiblegarabgetruck]

cooking spaghetti dinner for ur sweetheart 0_< <3

/i wanna draw smth for S7E4 but have this silly doodle for now...

[plumbus-central]

i was having another morticia moment this past weekend 💛

[newestcool]

Rick Owens f/w 2017 rtw Creative Director Rick Owens Model Coco Rocha Fashion Editor/Stylist Panos Yiapanis Makeup Artist Sammy Mourabit Hair Stylist Duffy Casting Directors Angus Munro, Liz Goldson & Noah Shelley Newest Cool on Instagram

[strangersteddierthings]

Steve, Gareth and Chrissy are cousins AU (sad edition) [prologue] [part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Final Part]

Steve climbs into the back of Nancy's car with Dustin, trying his best to play off his mood as having slept poorly in the Wheeler's basement, instead of the guilt and sorrow churning inside him. He had been hoping to be able to make excuses to go home for a bit today, away from the group, so he could go to Chrissy's funeral.

Doesn't seem like that will be happening. Not unless he tells them the truth. They're going to the Creel house and Steve can't let them ago without him. Can't let them walk into potential danger if he's not there.

Because Chrissy's already dead. He can't change that. But he can try his damnedest to make sure there's no one else. So, it's more important to him to be there with the living, than at a funeral. Chrissy would agree.

Chrissy would understand.

Right?

Gareth sits through Chrissy's funeral and notes that Steve's not there. No one from the Harrington household is. He doesn't know what to feel about that. All his sorrow has been spent on Chrissy, so all he feels for Steve is anger. What the fuck is more important to Steve right now than being here? For his family. For Chrissy. For him.

He sits next to Jason even though his mom left a spot next to her available for him. He's not suddenly Jason's best friend, but he was told they plan to continue their search immediately after the funeral, and if he sat next to his mom, she wouldn't let him go.

This is how he finds himself at Reefer Ricks, long past the mandated curfew with just Jason, Andy, and Patrick. The others having slowly dropped off the search the closer to night it got.

"Hey," Gareth calls out to Jason before entering the house, "I'm going to go check if Eddie's van is hidden where he usually parks it when he comes out here."

Jason pauses on his way through the door. He looks over his shoulder and gives a nod, "yeah, smart thinking. There should be a flashlight in the back of the car."

Gareth nods back and heads back to the car. It doesn't take long to find the flashlight and soon he's walking down the road. It's not a long walk, about fifteen minutes away is a cluster of trees that Eddie parks at when he comes to get more goods from Rick. Gareth (and their other friends) spent plenty of afternoons waiting in the van for Eddie to return from his 'job', as it were. It does keep the van out of sight of any road, though.

The van is there, and Gareth doesn't like what he sees. The driver side door is open, so he approaches slowly. "Eddie? You in there, Eddie?" he gets no response. He shines the flashlight through the back door's window, smooshing his face against the glass to look in. Once he's sure it's empty of anything, he approaches the open door and examines the front.

The keys are still in the ignition. Door left open and keys still in the ignition paints a story Gareth isn't sure he wants to read. That makes worry curl inside his body. He can't think of a single thing that would make Eddie abandon the van this quickly, too... scared? Worried? to bother to even close the drive door. He climbs in to try and start it but it won't. With the door left open for over 72 hours, the battery is dead.

He pockets the keys and locks up the van. If worse comes to worst, he can return the keys to Wayne.

He's almost back to the house when he hears shouting. He starts running, following the noise, and quickly finds Jason and Patrick on the shore, pulling their shoes off. His gaze flicks out to the lake and catches the sight of what can only be Eddie trying to get the motor of a motorboat started.

Well. Shit.

He doesn't think much more beyond that. He's just acting. He steps on the heels of his shoes to get out of them as quickly as possible and dives into the water. He's only seconds behind Patrick and Jason into the water, slowing to keep pace with them at first.

Gareth grew up in the Harrington swimming pool just like Steve had. Chrissy had. He's never been so glad for that as he is now, as he quits trying to pace himself and takes off, leaving Jason and Patrick behind.

Eddie's swinging the oar around wildly, as if they would stop any of them. He falters in his swinging when his eyes land on Gareth and he breathes out his name, "Gareth?"

One final stroke and Gareth can reach out of the water and grab the side of the boat. He doesn't haul himself aboard, but does haul himself high enough to look up at Eddie. "The police say you did it. Did you?"

Hurt flashes across Eddie's face but he answers, "No."

Gareth nods once, a decision made. Before he can respond though, Jason's caught up and Eddie is turning in the boat to wave the oar uselessly at him.

Clinging to the side of the boat gives Gareth a clear view of Patrick, who has stopped swimming. Jason and Eddie shout at each other as Gareth watches Patrick being to rise out of the water. "What the fucking shit!?"

Gareth doesn't know if Jason turns to look, he's too busy staring, wide-eyed and slack-jawed.

"Don't look," Eddie says and the boat jostles as Eddie moves suddenly, dropping to his knees in the boat and throwing his hands up to block Gareth's view.

"What the fuck-" Gareth cuts himself off when he hears the snapping of bones. Jason is yelling and Gareth panics, pushes back from the boat, which makes Eddie lean more to block his eyesight, causing Eddie to fall out of the boat. On instinct, Gareth dives for him, the month and month spent in Steve's pool, hearing about pool safety kicking in.

Eddie doesn't really need rescuing, but he doesn't fight Gareth during the rescue. Patrick is no longer in the air when they breach the surface, and Jason is swimming back the way they came. Eddie flops himself back into the boat, then helps Gareth in as well.

They don't speak again until they've reached the other shore, in which case they just sit in the boat, soaked through, panting at each other as the adrenaline fades.

"What the fuck was that!?" Gareth doesn't shriek. He doesn't.

Eddie suddenly looks very severe and grim when he says, "that's what killed Chrissy."

[carolina-bleus]

The show was amazing and there is a lot to unpack, but can we take a moment to appreciate Rick Grimes (of the dilapidated cowboy boots, worn brown t-shirt, even more worn jeans, murder coat, and denim and plaid button down shirts) and his presentation of dream Michonne? Her looks were top-tier.

I imagine Rick and Michonne spent time (quiet moments with just the two of them in the early morning or late at night) discussing what their lives were like before the turn and dream Michonne is how Rick envisioned pre-ZA Michonne.

[helpallthenamesaretakenblog]

Nvm me, just internally praying for grover in a bridal lehenga

Ok but this is so naturey and green and if i were grover, id def weave this if i want to buy more time from a cyclops

From Chaitra Kulkarni on pinterest