#i saw a brief picture of what looks like a cover art???

[insomaniacat]

i havent read owari no seraph in so long but WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON IN THERE I NEED TO KNOW

[the-boy-meets-evil]

34.6037° S, 58.3816° W | teaser | jww

(your latest assignment has you jetting off to argentina hoping to finally catch the infamous art thief that's escaped your agency one too many times already. you know what's at stake if you lose your focus. enter the beautiful stranger that has you questioning everything you know.)

pairing: jeon wonwoo x f.reader genre: strangers to lovers, (kinda) enemies to lovers | smut, fluff, angst rating: explicit, minors DNI (for the full fic) word count: ~1k for the teaser (full fic here) warnings (for the full fic, teaser has none): art thief!wonwoo, secret agent!reader, very brief mentions of death & bloody past (again, reader is a secret agent), mentions of past violence, mentions of weapons, food, drinking, ambiguous ending, smut warnings on the full fic

a/n: this fic is for the amazing world tour collab for @svthub. i'm excited that i got to be part of it! the full fic will be posted on june 28th. if you'd like to be tagged, leave a comment, send an ask, or fill out my permanent tag form here

taglist: @aaniag, @crepecakeu, @tinyelfperson, @dokyeomkyeom, @amoryeonjun, @miriamxsworld, @hongrizoon, @gyuminusone, @naajaeminsgf, @straykidswhoo789, @kimseokgen, @beomesbabe, @haolistic, @vanishingboots, @babybae-shisui, @harry-the-pottypus, @pyeonghongrie-main, @nuttywastelandmentality

Reluctantly, you move to sit down with him. It’s kind of insane the way he’s thrown you off your game by just existing. Usually, you’re the one that’s disarming strangers with your charm, not the other way around. As soon as you sit down, he looks back at the book he has open in front of him. It gives you a chance to figure out if he’s actually that attractive that it’s thrown you off or if you’re still just jet-lagged. 

His glasses slide down a nearly too perfect nose and he pushes them up without missing a beat. His black hair is a little messy and a little long, falling carelessly around his face as he gets lost in whatever book he has open in front of him. His clothes make him look a little too fancy to be sitting in a cafe overrun with tourists like this. Somehow, he makes a cardigan over a dress shirt with nice, pressed slacks work without looking like he’s trying too hard. Everything about him just exudes calm, confident energy. Like the kind of person you would assume comes from old money. Unassuming, yet standing out without even meaning to. It reminds you of some of the landmarks you saw that morning, like rich history perfectly combined with modern needs. 

Thankfully, at least some of your training kicks back in and you manage to keep it from being too obvious that you’re one step away from fully checking him out. Your new tablemate seems content to sit in silence, though, so you pick at your food while going through some of the pictures on your camera. Today is about getting the lay of the land as much as anything else. It’s not like you can just find your infamous art thief without knowing where to look. 

“I’m sure you got some great shots,” he says, drawing your attention again. When you look up, his eyes are on your camera. 

“Oh, yeah, it’s so hard to really capture the feeling of something through a camera, but I definitely try,” you say.

“I saw you at The Obelisk and I thought, I’ve never seen someone so focused in my entire life,” he says, except now he’s looking at you.

“There must have been thousands of people there. How did you pick me out?” you ask with a laugh. 

The mystery man shrugs. “Like I said, you were focused. And not in the way a lot of influencers who travel for the perfect picture are. I knew that it was more than that for you.” 

“It is,” you agree. “I’m studying the history and the culture down here. Just got in last night.” 

“Can I see the picture you landed on?” he ventures. 

You hesitate. Your pictures are good, sure, but you’re not actually doing anything that serious when you’re down here. Since it’s supposed to be part of your cover, you should feel confident. After a moment, you hand your camera over to him with your favorite picture in the display window. 

“Be kind. My focus is language and history first, not photography,” you toss out. Another layer to the cover. 

“This is amazing,” he says and seems earnest. “Can I look through the rest?”

Again, you pretend to consider. This time it’s for the sake of the persona you’re committing to. It’s not like there’s anything on there from before today since it’s a fresh SD card. 

“I promise to be kind,” he presses and you roll your eyes.

“Fine,” you say and he smiles. 

It’s hard not to notice the amount of care he uses while handling your camera. Maybe he knows something about photography and realizes it’s an expensive model. Or maybe he’s just gentle with something that clearly means a lot to someone else. It’s also easier to feel like you can appreciate things about him when his attention is somewhere else. Like he won’t notice the way your eyes map his features, noting the furrow in his brows or how smooth his skin is. Or the way his hair seems absolutely perfect without any product in it. None of it seems fair that he should just get to walk around looking like that.

“I’m surprised not to find a picture of myself on here,” he starts and it pulls you from your thoughts. There’s a moment where you wonder if he’s secretly self-centered, until you meet his eyes and see the glint there. “You know, with how you’ve been studying me.” 

“I appreciate beauty wherever I see it,” you answer, trying to channel more boldness than you feel. 

“Are you saying I’m beautiful?” he questions, entirely too at-ease. 

“I don’t think you need confirmation on that,” you scoff and look out the window. “It wasn’t me that noticed you earlier.” 

“A shame for me,” he muses. “I appreciate beautiful things as well.”

He hands your camera back with his eyes locked on you. It makes your skin feel a little flushed and you hate it. Hate that you’re always able to keep your cool in any situation and still so completely disarmed by this man. Hate that it’s him that breaks the moment, too, when he looks down at the expensive watch on his wrist with a sigh.

“Late for something?” you venture. 

“Something like that,” he agrees and puts his book away in a bag you hadn’t noticed. “I’m glad you sat down though.” 

“Me too,” you admit a little too quickly as he’s standing up.

“Enjoy your afternoon, beautiful stranger,” he says and you twist around.

“Wait, I didn’t get your name,” you call and he stops by the door. The smile he throws your way sends a tingle down your spine.

“I hope we’ll run into each other again, then,” he says.

i hope you enjoyed this little snippet!

[moody-alcoholic]

Uninvited Guest

Summary: 2.2k words. Ghoap x Reader, throuple. Reader is female (she/her), army nurse, non descript physical features, names used: Ashe

CW: Unconscious person, mentions of drugging someone repetitively.

Previous parts - masterlist - next part

It's a little shorter but enjoy <3

19:25

Price was still talking over the plan when they made it to the house. Ghost knew they were only here for one thing; the documents Soap found. It’s the evidence they need but Ghost knows it’s a long shot. He looks over at Soap, he’s smiling, of course he is, Ghost almost wants to roll his eyes.

The van pulls up to the front doors. He can see Chloe’s mother and father as well as extended family talking with officers. There’s a man with a suit tapping things on a tablet, Price said they’d called their lawyers. Everyone gets out the van as Price walks over to who Ghost assumes is the man in-charge of the whole raid.

“Found anything?” Price asks. 

“Seized some electronics as per the order. Nothing unusual though. They have sports rifles and shotguns, licences check out.” The officer says.

“Soap take Ghost to the room you saw strip the place.” Price says turning to them to give orders. 

“Gaz stick with me, we’ll search the ground floor.” Ghost doesn’t wait turning towards to house with Soap on his heals. It’s just how he likes it, as long as Soap is nearby it’s one less thing to worry about. Ghost watches as the eyes of the family follow him and Soap into the house. There are people missing, most notably Jack, Ghost knows from the briefing he’s not deployed. He could be anywhere, they haven’t exactly been keeping an eye on him.

After the incident in Syria he was sent back to the UK, his father-in-law covered for him which was to be expected. Then he went quiet, the theory was he was being told to lay low. A shiver ran up Ghost’s spine, there was something wrong with this picture. Ghost tried to ignore it letting Soap pass him to lead him into the house.

“Excuse me!” Someone calls forcing Ghost and Soap to stop in their tracks and turn around. The man Ghost assumed was the lawyer is walking towards them. 

“Excuse me but you don’t look like police.” He says. 

“Well spotted.” Soap says coming to stand next to Ghost. 

“Well I don’t see anywere on this warrant that you’re allowed access here.” He says showing a piece of paper to Ghost who is mostly ignoring it, not that he would understand the legal jargon anyway. 

“Problem boys?” Price says stepping up behind Ghost. 

“He says we’re not to be here.” Soap says.

“Here.” Price says handing him a piece of paper. 

“MI5? Hold on a second. Don’t enter the property until I have verified this.” The man says taking his phone out and turning to walk away. Ghost turns to Price. 

“Hurry up then, I want to get out of here as quick as possible.” Price says turning to walk back over to the officers and Gaz. Ghost watches the lawyer with his back now turned  on the phone, then walks into the building.   

“Up this way LT.” Soap calls heading for the stairs. Ghost follows him making it up to the first floor. Soap leads Ghost into an office. The place is a mess, shredded paper and books flung everywhere. 

“Shite.” Soap says. 

“Someone's had fun.” Ghost says. Soap walks over to the desk, he’s trying to open the drawers but they’re locked. He looks up at Ghost. 

“Price, we’ve made it but the place has been ransacked.” Ghost says into his radio as Soap starts looking through the pieces of paper that never made it through the shredder. 

“There’s nothing useful here.” He says shoving some papers off the desk. Ghost can hear the annoyance in his voice. 

“What about the drawers can you get them open?” Ghost asks looking round the room. All the walls are covered in floor to ceiling bookshelves. What parts of the room missing shelves are covered in expensive art. 

“Na, they’re locked.” Soap says trying to rattle them to see if they’re just stuck. Ghost comes around to see the papers, he can’t make out what the shredded ones are but there have been pictures, and folders, all sorts of things have been through the shredder not just papers. 

“Got anything we can open it with?” Ghost asks. 

“Yeah but shouldn’t we ask them if they have a key first?” Soap asks. 

“Price we’ve got locked drawers up here, any chance we can get a key? Maybe some officers to secure evidence?” Ghost wait’s for Price’s response as he walks over looking at the books pulled off the shelves. He notices the wood looks different and presses down on it. 

“Soap come look at this.” Ghost says as the wall gives way under his hand and it opens a secret compartment. It’s empty but that explains the books on the floor. 

“Shite there could be loads of them.” Soap says looking round the room. There is commotion in the hallways as Ghost hears the lawyer and other people making their way up to the room. 

“I told you to wait downstairs until we’d verified your paperwork!” The lawyer snaps. Ghost looks over at him, he can see the mother behind talking to a police officer. Gaz pushes his way through into the room. 

“They don’t have a key.” Gaz says handing Soap a crowbar. Ghost watches as the officers try to keep them out the room.

“You better not be destroying that desk it’s an antique!” The mother calls in horror as she watches Soap go over. 

“Give us a key then.” Soap says. Ghost looks at him, he looks serious eyeing them down as he waits for a response. 

“They can’t do this you can’t destroy property!” The lawyer shouts. Soap looks up at Ghost as he moves round to the desk stopping as he pushes the crowbar into place. Ghost nods. Fuck the bureaucracy this could be their only chance.     

  ——————————  

21:00

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Mark asks Jack from the back of the car. Jack doesn’t say anything right away looking at the address written on the paper for the millionth time. This is not a good idea it’s a terrible idea, it could get them thrown in prison or worse killed. He has to do this though prove to his father he can fix the fuck up he’s caused.

“You scared?” Jack asks turning to look at Mark in the back seat. 

“No, just.” Mark looks away shaking his head.

“Spit it out!” Jack snaps. 

“We’re going up against trained SAS soldiers.” Marks says. 

“You are a trained SAS soldier, and besides we’re getting her not them.” Jack says turning back to look out the front window. 

“Why is she so important anyway? She’s just fucking them.” Brian says scoffing. 

“She’s not just fucking them Brian! You should have seen how hard they fought to get her out of Syria. They went to people even my father couldn’t stop.” Jack says looking back at Brian driving the car. 

“What so we’re holding her for ransom? What if they don’t care?” Harry, Marks brother asks.

“They’ll care.” Jake says confidently. 

“Four SAS soldiers versus the 4 of us. I don’t like our odds.” Mark says under his breath. 

“Pull the car over.” Jack says.

“Sorry?” Brian asks looking at him.

“Pull the fucking car over!” Jack shouts. Brian turns on the hazard lights pulling into the hard-sholder of the main road. Jack gets out the car as soon as it’s stopped going round to Marks door.

“Out now!” He snaps. Mark looks annoyed but he undoes his seat-belt slipping out. As soon as his feet touch the ground Jack pushes him round the back of the car slamming the door. 

“If you don’t want to be involved then fuck off. Go back home to dad with your tail tucked between your legs and explain how you plan on fixing this fuck up.” Jack shouts.

“It’s not my job to fix your fuck ups!” Mark shouts back. 

“No but you and Harry are the ones who let her go at the funeral! They managed to snoop around enough to find out about the sales in Syria and Urzikstan! Do you understand how big of a leak that is?!” Jack shouts.

“She would have never even been in the house if you hadn’t killed Chloe!” Mark shouts back.

“You told me she was going to tell, I didn’t have a choice.” Jack says defensively. 

“She was still my sister.” Mark said taking a step up to Jack.

“She was a liability.” Jack responds. “I wasn’t even here I was stuck in Syria preoccupied with trying to get valuable intel.” 

“Yeah right sorry busy torturing innocent army medics.” Mark says pushing Jacks chest so there is distance between them. 

“Do you know how many fucking strings dad had to pull to make sure you didn’t get dishonourably discharged for that? 141 wanted your neck bad, and you still insist on going after them like they’re the only fucking counter intelligence unit on the face of the earth.” Mike says. 

“They’re the only one we need to be worried about and now they have proof, they’re at the house right now confirming that proof. The only option we have is to get a bargaining chip. She is the best bargaining chip!” Jack says jamming his finger in Marks face. Mark shakes his head.

“And if it doesn’t work?” 

“Then we kill her either way we hurt them, she’s gone and we come up with another plan.” Jack says. 

“I thought the whole point of this was to get back the intel they’ve stolen?” Mark says.

“As soon as my father finds out which CIA agent is helping them we won’t need to worry about that. Besides we destroyed anything useful it will take the MET months to piece it together.” Jack says. 

“Now are you fucking done with your little spat? Because we need to get her before they’re done at the house.” Mark sighs, shaking his head.

“Fine fuck it, walk home.” Jack says throwing his arms up and turning back to the car.

“Wait Jack.” Mark says striding up to him and putting his hand on Jacks shoulder. “We’re family we fix our own fuck ups.” 

“Yeah, unus pro omnibus.” Jack says looking into his brothers eyes.

“omnes pro uno.” Mark replies smiling.

  ——————————  

22:00

Ghost was stood at the door with Price watching the officers finish bagging up the last of the scraps of paper for evidence. 

“They knew we were coming.” Ghost says, his arms crossed as he watches Soap tap on the walls. 

“Yeah, we knew it would be like that though.” Price said. 

“Think they’ll be enough evidence here to convict them?” 

“Don’t know, we won’t know for a while biased on how well they tried to destroy everything.” Price says sighing. Ghost watches as Soap pulls another panel out from the book cases looking inside. Nothing again, this was a waste of time, they’d done a good job scrubbing everything.

Gaz and Soap had been meticulously searching the book cases for hours. All the evidence had been taken. The mother had passed out from stress and the lawyer insisted an ambulance be called, recording everything. It had been a long night. Ghost just wanted to get back to the safehouse. Before his mind could wander Price patted him on the shoulder. 

“Tell them to finish up I’ll go chat with the chief then we’ll get out of here. Not much more we can do till the paperwork as gone through.” Price said. Ghost nodded, walking over to Soap.

“Don’t think we’re going to find anything.” Soap says as he reaches him. 

“No, Price said let’s pack it up, head back.” Ghost says, he sees Soap smile. That makes him happy, he always loves seeing his smile. Ghost tells Gaz the same thing as he finishes checking behind the last bookshelf. It’s empty, the police wrap up too checking the room one more time before taking their leave.

Ghost follows Soap and Gaz out closing the door to the office as he leaves. It’s a shame they couldn’t find anything, but in a few weeks they would know. The MET was going to literally have to put this case together to get the proof but it would happen. And with Laswell’s help they’ll be able to track their movements even better. 

“What do you think that means?” Soap asks shoving his phone in Ghost’s face. They’ve barely even made it out the house. Ghost stops, squinting at the text. It’s a jumbled mess of auto corrected words. A second text just saying 4-5 armed. 

“Price!” Ghost shouts interrupting, him talking to the police chief.

“Call the house!” He says walking over to him dragging Soap along. Price looks confused for a second excusing himself and taking out his phone. 

“What?” He asks when Ghost reaches them, he shows him the phone. 

“Could mean anything,” he says his eyes digging into Ghost. Ghost can see the doubt in his face. This is bad. Price hangs up the phone calling again. Ghost holds his breath squeezing Soaps wrist. He watches Price as the line continues to ring. It keeps ringing, Price brings the phone down then looks up at Ghost.

“We need to move now!” Ghost calls dragging Soap to the car. 

“Try calling her.” Ghost orders Soap as Gaz and Price follow. He just nods trying to hide the fear in his face. This is really bad. 

  ——————————  

22:20

“Found her phone.” Mark says handing it to Jack. He rushes over to you using your bound thumb to unlock it. 

“Shit, she’s warned them we need to leave!” He shouts moving back into the kitchen looking at the gear. They’ve already kitted up and have helped themselves to more weapons for the potential fight ahead.  

“Is she still out?” Mark asks looking back to you being tied to a chair. 

“We’ve got chloroform to keep her out till we need her.” Jack explains, looking back over at Harry and Brian still trying to tie you to a chair.

“Did you not hear me she’s told them we’re here we need to move! Get her in the car.” Jack orders them, they nod pulling at the restraints.

“Where do you want to go?” Mark asks.

“How about the house in Harrow it’s still empty right?” Jack asks.

“Yeah, it’s a bit of a drive though.” Marks says.

“That’s fine the longer we have the better. Plus we can fall back to Kensington if we need to.” Jack says watching Mark nod. 

“Bring her phone, turn it off till we need it but keep it close. We’ll use it to contact them.” Jack says. The house phone ringing makes them jump. Jack walks over to it deciding whether or not to pick it up. He could play all his card right now and tell them they’re holding you for ransom. Or he could wait until they’re in a better situation to make demands. 

“Don’t, we need as much time as we can get.” Mark says. Jack nods his fingers hovering over the phone.

“Okay lets move now! I want wheels up in 10!” Jack says heading for the back door.

“Mark help us get her in the boot.” Harry says as him Brian drag you by your arms out the door. Jack drives, with Mark next to him. They look at each other. They’re in too deep now. Mark nods at him, he’s doing this to prove he can do this. He’s better then what his dad thinks. He has a kid and a wife, he has people he needs to provide for. He can’t lose this job, he can’t fuck his family over like this. He remembers the plan grounding himself, and drives off. 

  ——————————  

Next

Latin translates to 'all for one and one for all'

[emagios]

Though she did not show it outwardly, Sonetto's heart was pounding. Being called down to the living room to greet and entertain guests was nothing new for her, having done so whenever her father and mother hosted parties, or during her father's "art exhibits". (She never stayed too long though. And her parents never stopped her. The less contact with people, the less risk of them finding out about her ability.) But this... The people they were waiting for weren't just any ordinary guests. They were to meet a member of The Foundation. Across from her was a large bookshelf. On one of the shelves was a gap, to which as she peered, she could see the front door. The door was tilting. 'huh? What? ' Sonetto thought. She then felt a strong weight press on her shoulder. Rather, a strong grip. Sonetto blinked. She took a glance at her father, who was now looking down at her with narrowed eyes. "You were swaying." He said. Oh. She didn't realize that. The doorbell rang, and his gaze moved back at the direction a the cause. "You need to sort yourself, lest they cast their suspicions on us. We don't need unwanted attention, especially from them. " From her peripheral, she could see one of the butler's walking towards the main door to open it. "We've already made it clear what exactly The Foundation is, yes? " Sonetto's throat felt dry. Yes, her parents have painted her a picture of what the people at The Foundation were like. What the organization was, and what they do with people like her. Of the many, but based, rumors that cloaked around it. She observed her father's face. Harsh, but kempt and set with the familiar mask of indifference that he mostly wore. She could only count with one hand and less than five of her fingers the amount of times she had seen him smile genuinely. 'You wouldn't let them take me away, right?' She realized, at the same moment, that her father had not let go of her shoulder, gripping it this time with more pressure than before. "I asked you a question, Sonetto." Sonetto broke her gaze away from him to look ahead, right on time to see the butler reach for the door knob. "Yes." She replied. His hand dropped to rest at his sides. "Good. Don't give anything away." Click. She heard, and saw the door open. Sonetto took a deep breath. "Yes, sir." The butler stepped aside, opening the door wider as he did so. And next, their unexpected guests entered. A man stepped in, giving the butler a short bow before moving towards the living room, which was where she and her father were at. There were three figures that walked in. However, the gap that she was watching from was only small, only enough for her to see the entrance but not the rest of the hallway. Ah well, She'd see them all later anyways. The man was the first to step in, with a woman following closely after. The third... didn't appear. Maybe Sonetto had been mistaken. She focused her attention at the two instead of dwelling on it further. The man was tall, that much was clear. Taller than even her father. Subsequently that also meant that the man towered over her. His height, together with his uniform, made him look eerie and intimidating. White and gray uniform, and a mask that covered near his entire face, exposing only his chin (which was hidden with a cloth).

The woman beside him was shorter, maybe just inches taller than her. She wore a similar getup with the man. "The Foundation thanks you for your hospitality." The man started. An ordinary voice. Sonetto didn't know whether to feel unsettled or reassured. Her father gave a curt nod. "To what do we owe the pleasure of your esteemed organization?" "We are aware that this came about on such short notice. Because of that, we would like to keep our first meeting short and brief. To introduce ourselves as we all settle in before we dive into business." It was the woman who spoke. "I see. Then, I have no qualms about that. " Her father answered. "We thank you. Let us begin then. Let me introduce you to our Captain and squad leader. She is also one of the SPDM's finest student's and a key member of St. Pavlov Foundation..." Loud footsteps. Frantic, as if in a hurry. It could never be any of the house staff, for they were always careful with making noise even when busy. It could only be the third guest. So she was not wrong after all. Sonetto clenched her fists to keep it from trembling. This was it. She can learn to keep calm, and show indifference. She will not clue them in on anything. She will- A large and dark, blue top hat that obscured the face. A coat with a similar shade. She was perhaps short, maybe even shorter than her. Locks of gray - green hair... "... The Timekeeper." The Timekeeper took off her hat. Gray eyes meet widened, green eyes. Unbeknownst to her, Sonetto's father had stiffened. 'She's the timekeeper?! But she's just... ' "A child?!"

[itsdrawingmen]

I saw a dunmeshi art where they lined up the characters in their underwear, and got brainworms from it. I'm not really good at painted studies, it turns out, or maybe it just didn't work right now, but I like how the drawing came out. It was an excercise in different bodies, and I think they’re all neat.

Some headcanons and musings:

Zen has boobs, tits even, but that's canon, and all the time I was drawing him I was thinking about that selfie from his album where he's wearing a half-buttoned white shirt and his cleavage is visible. I am looking at him respectfully (not really, I am looking at him like this:

He's shaved everywhere, and he wears very plain, neutral-coloured underwear. His normal state is being pretty meaty, but he doesn’t like himself that way. He’s often dried out for his roles.

Yoosung is narrow-chested, thin, covered in moles, and comparatively kinda hairy — not by my European standards, but compared to the others here. He doesn't care about shaving, for himself or anyone else. He often wears funky boxers, and has sort of got a collection. Even when it's not funky-printed, his underwear is usually bright-coloured. He's cringe, but he's free. Also, not pictured, but he’s often covered in hickeys, normally from the chest up. Not gonna say who leaves them, but anyone who knows me even a little can take a wild guess 👀

Jaehee is wide in the hips and big-breasted. Her underwear is normally mismatched, because she doesn't care. The only thing she cares about is that it doesn't show through her clothes. In the canon timeline, she usually wears those thick stiff heavily padded bras that smooth everything out, and then over the course of the postcanon she gradually switches to softer cups. She's sedentary, often stressed, and doesn't eat well, so she's not really thin. She has acne on her face, neck, back, chest, and shoulders. She shaves because she’s too used to it, but she gradually gets more relaxed about it.

Next up is Joori Nam, the MC. She's a big, tall young woman, quite heavy and strong. She likes to show off her edgy and feisty personality in clothes and underwear, and she's also pretty expressive and energetic in gestures. She's depressed and a self-harmer. She barely shaves, only where is absolutely necessary to look ‘presentable’ for work. Otherwise, she can’t be assed.

The Chois are emaciated and scarred. They've both got some mild pectus excavatum. The Mother Choi used to stub cigarettes on them, and Saeran has got it worse.

Saeyoung is slightly more muscular and slightly less scarred. He has knobby square fingers, and nails bitten to almost nothing. He's also an active self-harmer. He's missing several toenails. All of his underwear is a little baggy on him.

Saeran is even thinner and less muscular. He has a lot of piercings, and his tattoo is blacked out into a full sleeve. He has barely any body hair at all. He is pretty much covered in cigarette burn scars, as well as scars from being whipped with cables, and several deep and crooked scars from gashes made with glass bottles.

Jumin, without his PR team, can't pose for shit. He is good at doing what they tell him, and he looks fine when photographed candidly, but as soon as he starts posing on his own, he just looks awkward and stiff. He has a weird case of CEO-body, where he's fit, but also weirdly soft in unexpected places (namely, his chest and arms). He shaves because it's 'hygienic'. He also wears briefs. Sorry, to me he looks like someone who wears briefs.

Jihyun is normally pretty toned, but after the whole ordeal with Rika and having to cover for her he has gained some weight and gotten soft. He has a long torso and wider hips and a bit of a belly. He hunches his back a lot, and picks at the skin of his fingers.

Rika is slender and dancerly, and very traditionally feminine. She’s small and graceful, not muscular, but soft, with smooth porcelain skin. She wears lingerie, always matching, always beautiful, and pretty much only owns thongs and tanga. Somehow, despite always looking up at people, she can easily make you feel like she’s looking down at you.

[wolfpants]

nightcall (drarry, 1058 words)

Thank you to @getawayfox for the amazing art for this little piece I wrote for kinkuary! Give her post some love here ❤️‍🔥 Rated: E / nsfw Tags: Unspeakable!Drarry, begging, phone sex, dirty talk, masturbation, FWB, colleagues to lovers, pining, light bdsm On a top secret Unspeakable misson, Harry calls Draco from a remote phone booth on the Isle of Skye. ao3 link here, or keep reading

❤️‍🔥🖤📞🏍🥀

“What are you looking at right now?”

“Castle ruins. The sea. The moon. Dark road.”

“Have you got somewhere to sleep?”

A pause.

“Harry?”

“Hm?”

“Have you got somewhere to sleep?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ve got somewhere to sleep. Don’t worry.”

Draco’s breath crackles against Harry’s ear. 

If Harry closes his eyes—shuts off the road, the barren hills, the moonlight sparkling against the shore—he can pretend Draco’s right here with him. 

He can pretend Draco’s huffing gently into his ear, murmuring against his throat like he might if they were alone together in the same room.

“That’s all I do,” Draco whispers dryly. “Arsehole.”

They shouldn’t even be talking. It’s against code. They could lose their jobs. 

The Ministry doesn't know how to tap Muggle telephone boxes, but Draco and Harry know better than to talk about work outside of Level Nine. So Harry doesn’t ask Draco if he’s still working on those files and old tomes he keeps under deadly protection magic in The Manor. He doesn’t ask if he stayed in the office all night again and forgot to eat dinner. 

“Does my voice sound normal?” Draco asks when Harry doesn’t respond to the bait of his insult. 

“Your voice has never sounded normal.” 

Harry is curled over the telephone desk. He runs his finger over the edges of the BT directory. He pulls back the cover to read it.

THE PHONE BOOK: HIGHLANDS AND ISLANDS 2003/2004

Almost ten years out of date.

“Fuck you,” comes Draco’s predictably plummy-edged response.

“Fuck you,” Harry repeats, grinning. He shifts his weight from one hip to the other. His riding leathers, softened and moulded to his body like a second skin, crease and rasp gently. His helmet is by his feet, his bike outside on the gravel; headlight on, casting the winding road ahead in ghostly bleached light. Its engine gently purrs into the night, reminding him that they need to keep this catch up brief.

“No, really,” Draco says, dropping his voice back to a whisper. His breath puffs against the receiver.

“You’re smoking.” Harry leans against the glazed side of the box and drops his head back against the glass panes. 

“I’m outside, no one’s going to die,” Draco murmurs.

Harry closes his eyes again and pictures Draco standing on the lawn in Wiltshire. Mobile phone to ear, screen glowing against his face, cheeks pink from the cold. Surrounded by shadowed hedges and sculpted water features, smoke pluming from his lips, creeping up towards the starry sky. His hair is pulled into a knot on the back of his head. Or perhaps it’s loose, and the breeze is moving it around the sharp slopes of his cheeks.

“You look sexy when you smoke. You sound great. I miss you,” Harry says in three steady beats.

Draco won’t return the words. He never does. But Harry knows he feels them. 

That he misses them too. Whatever—they are.

Work partners. Friends. More than friends sometimes. Less than friends other times.

Another soft breath. “Are you alone?”

“I’m on the tip of Skye looking at the North Atlantic. I’m very alone. I can’t even remember the last time I saw a tree.”

“Then,” Draco huffs gently—an inhale, a sharp exhale, the sound of his shoes clicking against pavement. He’s walking through the hedge maze. “Fuck you.”

Harry licks his lips. “Yeah?” He cups himself over his leather trousers. Slides his thumb over the shifting head of his cock as it grows closer towards his hip.

Draco hums, deep and smooth. Harry tilts his hips up in a slow fuck against his fingers, heat spreading, sharp and singular, between his legs. “God I want you,” he rasps, closing his eyes. The flutter of pale hair. Draco’s lovely lips wrapping around the filter of his cigarette. The way he kisses, dirty and like he means it.

“You have to ask for it nicely first, Potter.” Another inhale. “You can’t just take what you want. Especially from me.”

Harry balances the phone between his shoulder and his ear and fumbles with the zip of his leathers. “Please,” he whispers. 

Draco hums again, louder this time, almost a moan but not quite. “Tell me what you want."

“I want you to sit on my face,” Harry says on a breath. His leathers are open as far as the zip will let him. He rucks up the t-shirt he wears underneath, enough to get into the waistband of his pants. His cock is already poking out the top, tip wet and swollen. He stares blearily at the beam of light outside, at the empty hills and sparkling water, fingers teasing himself in a slow, deliberate stroke.

Draco inhales sharply. “What was that?”

“I want you to sit on my face—please.” Harry licks his lips, circling his thumb over the wet head of his prick. “Want you to ride my mouth, my tongue. Take what you want from me. God, I want that so badly.”

“You like being suffocated, don’t you, you sick pup,” Draco whispers.

“Yeah,” Harry chokes out. “P—please.”

“And your tongue always feels so damn good. Maybe if you eat me good enough I could ride your cock. Would you like that?”

Harry groans, already so close. His leathers squeak and crease, and his elbow knocks against the glass behind him as he strokes his length up and down, balls drawing up tight.

“You’d have to stay still, though."

“Yes,” Harry breathes, picturing it now, like the countless times Draco has held him down—by the chest, the arms, the neck, sometimes—while he bounces up and down on his cock until they both come, sweaty and breathless.

“Are you touching yourself?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

“I want to come.”

“Maybe I wouldn’t come riding you,” Draco whispers.

“Draco…”

“Maybe I’d climb off you after you’ve spilled deep inside me, and we could switch. Maybe I could fuck the come out of you again, because you’re a dirty, needy little sl—”

Harry comes with a sharp, bitten off cry.

It spills down his fingers, splashes onto his t-shirt.

Draco chuckles. Harry hears him light another cigarette. “Good boy,” he croons.

“Fuck you,” Harry says with a breathless laugh, his head spinning. He gazes at the night sky through the foggy pane of glass above his head.

“Soon,” Draco whispers.

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

s2 episode 6 thoughts

sighs as if i just ran a marathon.

so, you know i take a LOT of notes. but this episode was SUCH a ride that i'm gonna try a new method of copying all this down. stick with me and let's see how it goes.

okay here we are. back after our brief and sorrow-filled separation yesterday, in which i had no time to watch an episode. it’s Scully hours. hopefully.

first thing we see is mulder walking into his place in the rain. first thing i do is pause and see if i can analyze the art on his walls. they’re some sort of prints of houses? not noticing anything in particular in terms of style or artist. and it’s definitely a new place where he lives, rip the sleep couch from s1

he takes off his jacket and listens to the message she left him and oh fuck. oh fuck. her voice. the sound of duane yelling. shattering glass.

he goes to her house and sees blood and the open window!!!! the TERROR that man must have been feeling. and he uses that FBI id to sneak right in there.

now he’s prowling about her house in search of clues and looking at her blood and hair left behind which is fucked up, even by my standards 

it was at this point i wrote "he’s like a bloodhound" which is a statement i stand by and can elaborate on if prompted

OH! we see a familiar face. he meets scully's mom. while his hands are soaked in her daughter’s blood. that's okay that's fine (said in a shaking and squeaky voice).

THE OPENING SAID SOMETHING DIFFERENT: DENY EVERYTHING. WHAT DOES IT MEAN?

(at this point i made a note expressing concern that we were gonna watch scully get tortured for 45 minutes straight and thank god that isn't what actually went down. because i would have been deeply upset if that had happened and would have launched upon an unstoppable rant for the next few generations)

scully's mom dreamed about her being taken away and Mulder WRAPS HIS ARMS AROUND HER. again. while still covered in her blood. what a way to meet her family. not how anyone had pictured this going down.

so it's the next morning and alex is in this meeting while mulder is having a come apart. don’t wish him to be here. and no, alex does not get the respect of being referred to by his last name like a good agent on MY account where i make the rules and the rules are that he sucks.

when rationalizing what duane is going through, skinner said “so he’s following orders from the alien voices in his head? That’s an interesting spin on the Nuremberg defense” and yeah! i chuckled. was he wrong there?

skinner made me laugh with that little remark but then went back to pissing me off by telling mulder he was too close to the case and needed to go home. like yes, he’s right, but mulder's gonna put his bloodhound skills to destructive purposes. he's gonna rip up the couch if left home alone. in a dog metaphorical sense.

so alex takes him home which was bad enough (alex must know where mulder lives to do that) and we see CIGARETTE MAN IN THE BACKGROUND????? my original notes had a lot stronger language at this reveal that i felt i needed to tone down but i will keep the "i'll have ur head im sooo serious" part in

okay, back to duane cam. he’s cruising. he cranks his window down when he’s pulled over which is still funny to me. crank windows. how novel. but don't think i've forgotten the situation at hand just because 90's technology is funny to me.

a cop pulls him over and i felt a flicker of hope inside my chest but i knew deep down it was still too early in the episode for anything to be resolved. still, duane pulling out his gun and SHOOTING the cop made my jaw drop

(my jaw kept dropping this episode to an extent that was painful. i just got my wisdom teeth out and while i love enjoying this show, the constant twists and turns are NOT leading to a pleasant mouth experience)

SCULLY IN THE TRUNK REVEAL? <- that was all i wrote when i saw here in there. i feel it sums up the situation.

mulder, somehow, taps into where she's located and gets a visual on her. he is intensely effected and this is why i support his bloodhound-like tendencies being channeled. the man gets results.

alex, don’t ask how he slept. you are a rat and should be banished from his presence during his state of mourning and forever after. 

mulder: doesn't route 229 lead to the blue ridge parkway?

alex: I don’t know <- okay lmao I get that. i get that alex. like directions are hard. you haven't won me over but you did make me laugh here.

mulder figured out where they’re going and says GET THE CAR ALEX and that “he’ll deal with skinner”. ohhh i wanna see this furious mulder deal with skinner. OHHHH i'm so on the edge of my seat this sleep deprived man is gonna <- didn't even finish that sentence due to the next reveal

WHO THE HELL IS ALEX TALKING TO ABOUT “HOLDING HIM OFF” WHY IS CIGGY MAN HERE (can you hear the desperation in all of the notes i was taking. also i don't know his name and i don't care. that's cigarette man or ciggy man if i need to use shorthand and his government name is probably "rat bastard" but i don't care enough to use it)

mulder was, at this point, falling asleep and almost hitting a truck but insisting he can still drive. wild. on the one hand, i get it, because alex is probably gonna drive them off the road and something, but then on the other hand buddy. u almost got plowed in the negative context. someone fetch him a red bull

(and yeah i googled "red bull origins" to see if that would have been possible at the time for mulder to have a sip and can confirm it would have been IF he had gotten it imported from another country. because it wasn't in the us yet. i am a scholar)

alex is listing how many awful things are caused by sleep deprivation. which i understand and again, a good argument to be made, but this grease weasel just wants to get behind the wheel so he can total the thing and i'm not having it 

(he said some like after this and it was just “there’s our turn off” but my hatred for him reached a crescendo at this point like I could have started pummeling)

so they get to the place on the mountain that takes you up- the ski lift thingy. and the guy who works it is like "you can't use it, we don't test it in the summer" and wow. when i tell you what happens next, i hope you are seated. because i had to pause and breathe for a bit.

MULDER PULLS HIS GUN OUT AND THREATENS THE DUDE WHO SAYS HE CAN’T TAKE THE CABLE SKI THINGY UP OHHHHH MY GAWDDDDD 

so he gets access to the lift thingy and he locked alex out… yes exactly right!

the lift operator is like "don't go over 15 miles per hour" and we all know what mulder is gonna do next. he cranks it up way too fast and he’s gonna fall into the mountain and i’m looking around my room like what is going on here. the cuts to Alex’s snaky eyes are freaking me tf out. Why is alex reaching for his gun. WHAT THE FUCK WHY FID HE KNOCK THAT GIY OUT HE CIT THE GENERATOR AND LEFT MULDER UP THERE WHO IS HE CALLONH 

(<- leaving that one verbatim from my notes, too, because i feel it really captures the experience, if you can work out those typos. basically alex took his gun out and knocked the lift operator out, leaving mulder stranded on the ski lift in the sky, then called someone like "i've got him trapped" and i. was experiencing all of this very quickly.)

scully cam. she’s still in the trunk.

so the power's cut on the ski lift and mulder is not gonna just sit around and wait for somebody to help him! he's climbing up the tower and once he’s up there ALEX TURNS THE MACHINE BACK ON SERIOUSLY WHAT IS GOING ON

mulder survives the journey to the mountain's peak, despite almost falling off because he was hanging from outside!! and alex looks soooooooooooo mad.

sad man in the rain finds a car with blood in the wheel and...

HER NECKLACE IN THE BACK!!! AN EPISODE 3 CALL BACK!!! to when he knew eugene tooms was going after her because he found her necklace. oh i'm gonna be SICK

back to our worstie duane, who is in the woods screaming that they took her and that he’s free and I had to pause to breathe a lil. because if mulder lost scully and his sister to aliens...... 

after what was intended to be a commercial break and some wrestling on behalf of mulder, we see duane in custody, but receive no answers on what exactly is going on. he is, however, in a small room with mulder, who looks entirely diabolical.

mulder is stalking this guy- "stalking" in the sense that he is like a predator waiting for a chance to pounce on a rabbit- and he gets up and SEES SCULLY'S BLOOD AND HAIR ON DUANE'S HOSPITAL WRISTBAND???

next occurs what i described in my notes as the "DID YOU HURT HER SCREAMING AND TORTURE SESSION. JAW IS ON THE FLOOR" (my poor jaw. who will think of her in these trying times)

again, mulder is in his animal era, because he starts choking duane. REALLY choking him. i'm shocked. between this and the showing his gun to get to the top of the mountain, we are really seeing how he will throw all of the rules to the side and spit on them to keep the people he loves safe.

(i was also thinking to myself at this point, his ass is gonna get fired)

duane was taunting him, saying "i hope they’re not hurting her too much with the tests” which is. obviously evil. but HOW evil? it's still unclear if he is lying about the whole alien thing, because remember, scully said the bullet in his brain makes him a liar who is unpredictable. and i guess a bullet could maybe do that. i have no experience in such matters.

mulder says everyone STAY OUT OF THERE and yet. alex goes in to see duane. and is like "well i went in there because he was gagging". sure yeah. suspicious. why were you close enough to hear him gag? how do you know the sound of another man gagging, alex? heard it before?

okay this next part was. pretty messed up. i'll let my reactions from being in the moment speak for themselves because i have little desire to relive the matter:

SCULLY IN A WEIRD ASS ROOM???? THE ALIENS? What the hell I’m deeply uncomfortable are they blowing her up like a balloon. Oh I got chills. Negative 

(i never want to see a character blown up like a balloon it's just not for me. i am always gonna be good on that front)

((who is blowing her up and why. i was convinced it was aliens at first but now i think it was actually the Evil Government which has me thinking, what kind of situation led them to developing that technology in the first place?))

mulder pulls alex out of the room “NO ONE is to interrogate the suspect” “except you?” “except me” <- mulder with a god complex because scully is missing and he will do ANYTHING to find her. oh yeah that's juicy. i'm gonna dive into that at a later date.

skinner yells at mulder. yeah he had it coming. even if i enjoy his character arc i do think choking your only suspect comes across as a bit. well. unprofessional, shall we say.

mulder is shocked that duane is gagging like he didn’t just choke the guy and he might have KILLED his own best lead and has to live with whatever knowledge duane had on her whereabouts dying with him 

mulder staring at the corpse. cause of death: asphyxiation. oh he killed that dude. he is gonna be in trouble. 

(that was my first thought, anyway. i wasn't picking up what mulder was putting down, requesting a toxicology report. to me, if you show a scene of a guy getting choked, and then he dies a few minutes later, it's another situation of "i don't know enough about medical stuff to dispute that". mulder, however, WILL dispute that)

next part is copied and pasted from the rough notes again because it's funny:

"alex go fuck yourself i don’t even wanna look at you. getting in the car with ciggy man. “what about scully?” “we’ve taken care of that” ARE YOU THE MFER BLOWING HER UP LIKE A BALLOON CIGGY MAN???? alex is questioning things but idgaf if he’s morally conflicted"

(i saw the seeds of an alex redemption arc being sown here and i didn't care for it. condemn him. to the dungeons.)

mulder’s super insistent that he did NOT kill duane and again i was like. well are you sure. because it kinda looks like you did.

they want him to take a lie detector test which always makes me cringe. if polygraphs have no haters its because i'm dead.

mulder believes that duane was actually poisoned by the government to hide Something and he presents this theory to skinner and his panel which was Bold but you know our boy mulder. bold is what he does.

“why are you so paranoid Mulder” asks some random guy from the council in an annoyed fashion << terribly insensitive thing to say to guy who just had his best friend kidnapped

“I find it hard to trust anybody” (cutscene to asking Alex for his keys) NAURRR YOU CANNOT TRUST THE WEASEL 

alex gives him the keys and leaves with a long lingering stare. okay. freak.

mulder's going to the senator!!!! i was hoping we would get more info on that whole deal- why does this guy sponsor mulder? why does he do it if he knows it's a bad idea? how do they even know each other? is he a republican? - but we really don't gain any insight. he runs into Deep Throat 2.0, who I believe to be a handsome fellow, and he says that They will deny everything

who is they, i mumble quietly to the screen. why do they know all the things??

mulder is in visible and irreparable agony when getting in the car but he still has a funky tie on. despite the horrors his swag must persist.

GASP!! Mulder opens the car drawer and sees the cigarettes of famed ciggy man. alex is too pretty to smoke...

Mulder puts two and two together FAST and accuses alex of being a rat to skinner (which he’s right about!) he says he stands behind his accusation on the record and skinner tries to call alex up

(which was so funny to me because if he was a secret double agent- which he is- and mulder is accusing him of something adjacent to treason- what is a talk in skinner's office gonna do to solve the problem? again skinner is giving me high school principal energy. ur not gonna talk that one out babe but it's sweet you gave it a go xx)

mulder says that scully got too close to whatever the truth is when she had that little tracker thing and so they got her. i find myself agreeing with the guy who believes elvis faked his death. funny how he's often the level headed one

skinner, to my surprise, is taking this accusation of his agents being of the double variety quite well. he actually seems pretty reasonable about the whole thing, and like he truly believes there is some ulterior motives at play here.

but sympathy isn't enough for mulder: “What CAN you do” he asks Skinner, thrusting a finger in his face. “There’s only one thing I can do,” skinner sighs, and he... REOPENS THE X FILES?

(now this did shock me, but i was excited! don't get me wrong, i was just a bit surprised. i was thinking maybe he'd call up ciggy man and try to have a nice dignified chat since he seems so hell-bent on solving things through the power of discussion, but i suppose that reauthorizing the investigation into aliens while a top agent is missing for doing just that is. certainly an approach to the problem at hand?)

mulder walks sadly beneath a water fountain. it was sad enough as it was but then scully's mom walks up and things get even More sad

to somewhat break the air of tragedy: for some reason his face is crystal clear but hers is superrrrr blurry. like i've mentioned before, some shots are normal tv quality, and others look like they were ripped from a VHS. it throws me off each time.

but back to the matter at hand: he gives her scully’s cross necklace and he’s like "why did she wear that if she was such a skeptic" (which is a question i keep pointing out!!!!!!) and we learn the answer:

it was a gift from her mother on her 15th birthday. which i can and Will analyze in depth at a later date. the gift of a religious object to further solidify the need from her family to be Perfect and never fail and do exactly as they say. but scully choosing to wear it anyway, decades later, to hold her family close, no matter the pain of disappointing them. when she mindlessly reaches for the pendant to roll in her fingers, does she feel the warmth of family or the chill of their expectations she can never meet?

but. mulder tries to give her the necklace. and she says that he can give it to her when he finds her. not if. when.

he goes to a hill and looks up at the sky.

this episode was intense, and i will be gnawing on it like a bone for a while. seeing mulder and scully's mom together made me incredibly emo. seeing him break all the rules to find her also made me emo. trying to figure out if skinner is a real one and the ratio to which alex is genuinely evil vs just stupid were some serious cases of mental chess. and duane. we all wanna know what his deal is. and where is alex! he doesn't have to come back, don't get me wrong, but... did he fall off the face of the earth? go back to massachusetts for a dunkin run? i know that smug new englander look he has about him. don't sit here and tell me he grew up in kansas i won't buy it.

anyway, i saw the description of the next episode- so we're going back to an x file. i find it hard to imagine that mulder will have emerged from bloodhound mode by then, so maybe he thinks it's connected somehow and will go on a quest for answers in that direction- a vampire direction? hmm. guess i'll just have to tune back in!

[if-lost-please-return-to-maliksi]

Disclaimer: I do not own Emilio(hunter). Full Credit goes to HC -@ask-emilz-de-philz. Please check out their blog for amazing art and the wonderful world of Planet Puto. All involved characters are adults.

Genre: Supernatural, Fluff, Comedy?, Crackfic/ Fic on Crack HAHAHAHHA

WC: 2K

Nothing.

The single word that sums up everything you remembered the moment you woke up in this unfamiliar mansion.

The living room was grand and has numerous framed pictures and certificates hanging on the wall. The furniture was covered and everything seemed unused for some time, except for the library- it's well maintained as if someone took the time and effort to clean it once in a while and make sure the books are properly stored and aren't being damaged.

You were already dead.

How did you know?

Well aside from the fact that it took you days of concentration and sheer will to just hold a single book and turn the pages since everything seems to just pass through you- your lack of hunger, pain, and any other stuff a breathing and living creature needs is very apparent.

You tried going out of the mansion but it seems like you're trapped and is being bound to the place by an unseen force. Is this it? Is this the place you're supposed to haunt forever? You wondered.

What are you even supposed to haunt this place for when you can't even remember a thing? Wouldn't it be awkward to just murmur "Hustisyaaaaaaa-" like the ghosts you read about on the comic books you found on the library? What will you be asking justice for? What if you just died of natural causes? That will be very embarrassing.

You've taken a liking to comics since the pages are much lighter than the normal books and you've gotten used to concentrating enough to turn the pages easily. You usually spent a lot of time reading to your heart's content at the library, wondering if you had the same experiences as the characters when you were still alive.

Your quiet days of being alone only lasted for almost a month when a dark and tall man came with lots of weird tools and what seemed to be weapons. He must be the owner of this mansion. You quickly hid out of instinct before realizing that you're a ghost and he will not see you either way.

The guy was quirky, funny at most on how the first thing he did after getting home was check the library. So this guy is the one keeping all the books clean and in order.

You watched all of his moves- how he checked each shelf as you slowly got nervous when he almost reached the comic book section since it might just be a little disheveled because it takes a lot of concentration from you to move stuff.

Unlike how he looked around on the other shelves, he just took a very brief glance at the comic book section before smiling to himself and walking away while humming some lively tune.

It took him the whole day to tidy up his stuff from wherever he came from and it was almost sundown when he finished. He disappeared into the master's bedroom as you heard the water running from his bathroom. You kept yourself from following him since it felt wrong to violate his privacy in his own home so you just went back to the library to continue reading, making sure to turn the pages as quietly as you can so as to not scare the man.

After a few hours, you can hear strange sounds coming from the living room. You slowly went down to check what it was and found the man slumped on the couch, eating while watching TV. Television. Just like the thing you saw in the comic! You hesitantly walked towards the couch and sat down at the far opposite end to watch what seemed to be some kind of horror movie.

The moment Emilio set foot in his mansion, he saw you right away, hiding behind the furniture- he found it funny. It's not like normal humans will see you, but he's no normal human. He's got this gift ever since he was still a child. The ability to see what the naked eye doesn't. It's not just ghosts, but also other elements and creatures that the others thought were just fragments of the imagination and the mind.

He can see you following him around like a curious child. The first thing he checked was his library where he keeps many of his work's documentation and research. He also noticed the slight mess out of his comic book collections, knowing it was probably you trying to practice moving stuff.

He made sure you wouldn't notice that he could see you so he could continue observing your funny and un-ghost-like antics.

The way it took all of his self-control not to giggle as you politely sat down on the opposite end of the couch to watch TV with him- it was so cute and adorable and the way you looked so invested in the movie made him feel like not wanting to turn it off.

He was tired after being away for a month and he's definitely falling asleep already. Emilio switched into a laying position on the couch, making sure his movements were slow as to not startle you who is currently deeply engrossed in what you are watching.

After the movie ends, you look towards Emilio only to see him fast asleep. Just how oblivious is this human to fall comfortably asleep with a ghost beside him? You softly chuckled to yourself as you politely turned the TV off so as to not have his electricity bill go overboard before slowly retreating to your usual spot at the library.

This encounter has become a cycle- Emilio stays for a couple of days, just relaxing, reading stuff, and tinkering with some small trinkets before leaving again and being gone for weeks.

You've been so used to him that you start to worry when he's gone for longer than usual. Watching TV beside him on the couch has been an activity you look forward to. Upon observing him for months, you finally learned that he is some sort of a hunter- whatever he hunts is something you still don't know though.

Through time, you've also developed more and more control and focus, making touching stuff easier and more natural at this point that you sometimes accidentally knock stuff over. Emilio doesn't seem to freak out or be scared though.

The only thing that's bothering Emilio is the fact that keeping a straight face around you is so hard. He doesn't want you to know that he can see you- but the way you pick up the stuff you knocked over and return it to where it's supposed to be- innocently at that, is just way too funny. You also had the habit of imitating funny faces and even funny dances you see on the tv.

At some point, you ran out of books to read at the library, thanks to the fact that ghosts don't need sleep, so you started following Emilio around whenever he was at home. You find it amusing to watch him study and do errands around the mansion, no matter how simple it is such as repairing some old furniture.

Emilio noticed you following him around more often than usual and the small frown on your face whenever he goes outside to do errands since you can't seem to set foot beyond the mansion's walls, so he started bringing his weapons inside to clean it so you can still watch him.

You were being too nosy, leaning way too closely against his stuff that you accidentally elbowed it, making it fall towards you. Emilio quickly moved on instinct, catching his weapons so it wouldn't fall over you despite knowing that it'll just pass through you.

"You okay?" he worriedly asked before realizing his mistake- he just casually asked you, a ghost a question while looking intently into your eyes.

"Uh, yeah sorry-- You can see me?!" You didn't bother hiding the shock on your face when the man, who you've been living with for the past few months suddenly spoke to you.

Emilio softly chuckled as he shook his head. "Aw, you got me there. Anyway, yes. I've always been able to see you, cutie." he said with a smirk as he leaned his tools and weapons back on the wall securely.

You could've sworn right there and then that you could die for the second time around out of sheer humiliation- all those countless times that you did something really embarrassing replaying in your head. You nervously chuckled before running away, knocking a few stuff over which you immediately pick up and return to its place before successfully exiting the room and seeking refuge in your spot at the library.

For days, you made sure not to make your presence known, spending all your time in solace. You heard the slight sound of Emilio's weapons being dragged on the floor and the brief jingling of his keys as he left the mansion.

"I'll be off and will be back in three weeks. Don't worry about me." Emilio chuckled as he left.

He's a weird human. Like, who even does that? Who just bids their local ghost goodbye?!

You spend your days just chilling and watching tv- which is funny since you saw in a horror movie once how scared the characters get when the television suddenly turns on in an abandoned house.

Rude. What if the ghost haunting the place just wanted to watch their favorite show and everyone is just screaming and freaking out?

Upon putting some thought regarding your current situation with Emilio, and the fact that he can actually see you all this time, you came to the conclusion that you two are basically housemates- just two homies who liked watching movies together. Perfectly normal except for the fact that you are a ghost.

How can he not be afraid of you? How can he not like, ask you to go away? And how can he not call a priest or something to exorcise you out of his mansion? You wondered as you contemplated about asking him those stuff once he comes back. At the same time, you can't help but wonder if he's secretly a loser and is lonely so he keeps you around just so he has some company. Maybe he just wants a friend?

When Emilio came back, you didn't bother hiding yourself as you sat on the couch, a little closer to him than usual.

"Man, we need to talk."

Emilio softly chuckled at your seriousness as he turned around to face you. "Sure. What should we talk about?"

You tried clearing your throat, not knowing how to say it the least offensive way as possible. "Are you kinda...y'know...few screws loose? Cause you not being scared of me scares me."

He looked at you blankly for a few seconds before bursting out laughing. "No, no. I get you. But I'm perfectly normal, thank you for asking."

"Heh, doesn't seem like it to me. Normal people don't talk to...ghosts. Well atleast not so casually like this."

"Normal ghosts aren't as cute as you."

You rolled your eyes as you stared at him in disbelief. "Really? You're gonna go with pick up lines? To a ghost? Man, do you not have any friends? What will happen to you once I see that bright light that will take me to the afterlife? You know, I might go poof! gone, one day."

"Oh, trust me. You won't be going anywhere, Ma'am. You're staying here at our house." He said with a very smug expression.

"How are you so sure? I didn't receive some memo or some contract about me staying here, although you're right. It seems like I can't leave this place."

"A contract you say? We have that one."

You raised an eyebrow as you look at him. "What do you mean?"

"I had it framed and hung up on the living room. Look for the one that says Marriage Certificate." Emilio smirked. "Now, coming home to my wife doesn't sound so weird, right?"

Art by: @ask-emilz-de-philz that's their OC, Emilio del Pilar the local monster hunter. Please support them <3

[babyskunkdoll]

Heyyy long time no post 🎀

Okay, let's gossip about what I casually found out today.

First of all, I'm so impressed with how many times I felt like brands or other musicians I followed on insta may have taken inspiration from my visual style to sponsor their own.

Look at these photos, and date of publication.

After founding my label, IYDK, I started following Larme in 2023. And this is what I saw after finding their magazine in Tokyo, today.

In case my theory is true, I feel honoured that they used ME and my vision as a model!🔪🌹

But at the same time it isn't correct, right??

At the beginning, this kind of things happened once with Yeule and once with Charli xcx -both visuals. And I'm sorry but I MUST QUOTE Melanie. I'll attach pictures at the end without saying anything,- I lov her I'm a fan ❤‍🩹🕯️

About Yeule, I had a brief email contact with her label, they rejected my music and after that they sponsored a Yeule product with a similar visual style that I created for my Angeldroid$ cover. Just... In a better way! Unbelievable.

With Charli instead, it was more of a big coincidence which I will talk about it in another post *-*

And here's what you were waiting for, the Melanie case:

I only say that I sent my drawing to the #Creepyfy art contest in 2019 -didn't win.

Quite similar composition..?

However, maybe it's just my point of view xxxxxx

[wavyhairedvixen]

fandom: (heavily inspired by) Bram Stoker’s Dracula

tags: smut, vampire, adult content, f/m relationship, readerxDracula, shortstory

Contains 18+ content

Holiday gone awry

Chapter 1

As you peered out of the window of the cab you could see the outlines of what seemed to be a castle on top of a nearby hill. The moon was full and the trees cast eerie shadows along the road leading up the hill. A howl could be heard in the distance sending shivers down your spine.

“What was that?” You asked the taxi driver.

“Nothing you should be concerned about, Miss,” answered the scruffy looking cabby in a bored tone.

Suddenly everything went dark as a cloud obscured the moon and the howling became louder. Your blood froze in your veins when you heard the panting and growling of the creatures of the forest. You peeked out of the window again and saw hundreds of red eyes glowing in the dark creeping closer to the vehicle.

Suddenly as the cloud passed and the moonlight illuminated the land once again the frightening sight was gone just like the howls and growls of the hounds of hell.

“What were those creatures?” You asked with a trembling voice.

The pale skinned man exchanged a quick look with you and shrugged, turning his stoic gaze back to the road.

The car came to a halt as it reached the main entrance of the castle. You quickly hopped out of the vehicle and hurried to the wooden porch of the gothic mansion. The chilly air carried the smell of earth and damp leaves. You knocked on the monstrous ironbound door a few times before it opened with a creaking sound. To your surprise there was a tall shadow leaning onto the doorframe. For a brief moment, you forgot all the horrors you had encountered along your journey and just stood there, admiring the man in front of you. He was around six feet tall, wearing a black turtleneck sweater that complemented his icy blue eyes, pale skin and slicked-back raven hair. He greeted you with a genuine smile and a flicker of mischief in his gaze.

“Good evening, Miss y/n! Please come in, and let Pierre take care of your luggage.”

He stepped aside, motioning toward the hall of the building. As soon as you stepped over the treshold, the heavy oak door closed with a loud thud. The butler didn’t even bother to look at you as he took your bags.

“Good evening! You must be Mr. Awry, it’s nice to meet you!” You smiled and held out a hand to the man.

The man took your hand and planted a kiss on your knuckle. „It’s a pleasure to meet you too, Miss y/n!” he greeted you and gently assisted in taking off your coat. „I will show you to your room after dinner,” explained the tall man. “Now, please follow me! I assume you must be tired after the long trip from the city to my residence,” he went on as he led you into a spacious room. The walls were covered with crimson-colored tapestry and Persian rugs were scattered all over the floor.

There was a fireplace at the far end of the room , with a large wooden dining table stretching in front of it. Paintings adorned the walls, some of them depicting mythological tales. You recognized the one closest to you which showed the Abduction of Persephone. In the middle of the picture stood a strong man – Hades - holding the graceful body of Persephone, whom the god of the underworld kidnapped and took to the realm of the dead. Due to the gloomy atmosphere of the room you couldn’t make out the rest of the paintings covering the walls between the pieces of mahogany furniture. Cabinets were filled with different types of relics - daggers, vials, armor, and jewelry. You followed your host to the dining table which was already set for two.

“Please, take a seat!” said the man as he pulled out a chair for you.

“This place is beautiful!” you marveled at your surroundings while taking a seat. “Your home is a work of art, Mr. Awry!”

The count’s lips curled into a smile at your remark as he opened a bottle of red wine.

“Tell me, what lives in the forest? On my way here I think I saw something…unusual,” you frowned.

“Oh, those were just wild boars, my dear. You don’t have to worry about them!” the count reassured you with an amused smile.

He poured a glass of wine for you as he feasted his eyes on you for a moment before taking a seat across from you. You were bewitching, like a temptress with your long wavy ginger hair that appeared golden in the dim candlelight. You were practically starving, so you dug into your dinner and didn’t pay much attention to the man’s hungry gaze. As you took a sip of wine to wash down the food, you glanced at your host. He was intimidating, with his broad shoulders, strong arms, and eyes sparkling with curiosity. Even though you had just met this stranger, you felt somehow drawn to him.

“I heard you write books, Miss y/n,” remarked the man. His voice was deep and calming, having a soothing effect on your nerves. “And I also heard that your books are… rather exciting,” the count went on, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he looked at you with such an intense stare that you felt like the man could read your thoughts. “Could you tell me about your next novel?” he asked, leaning back in his chair and circling the edge of his glass with his middle finger.

You blushed a deep shade of red and took another sip from your wine. You didn’t expect your host to be so well-informed about your passion of writing.

“Well I have some ideas for my next book. It’s going to be a crime story. The main reason I came here is because I need to spend some time alone so I can focus on what I love doing the most. It is only a hobby, but it means so much to me,” you rambled with enthusiasm. “Oh, and thank you for the dinner, Mr. Awry. It was delicious! And the wine too!” You stopped, being suddenly aware of your host’s hungry gaze on you.

The man stood up and walked over to you with the bottle of wine in his hand. He poured you another glass and sat down next to you. He was so close that you could smell his intoxicating cologne. You fiddled with the napkin in your lap as you stared at the elaborate details on the piece of cloth.

“You’re welcome Miss y/n! It is my pleasure to have such a beautiful and intelligent company as you are,” Mr. Awry said on a soft tone and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “If you would like, I would gladly show you the land surrounding my property tomorrow,” the count offered as he took one of your tiny hands in his big ones.

“I would appreciate that Mr. Awry,” you muttered the words with a smile and felt your face heat up again.

“Please, call me James,” said the man and stroked your hand with his thumb gently.

“I think it’s time for me to get some rest. Could you show me to my room, please?” you asked, pulling your hand away from the count. You were so confused – you felt a burning desire towards this handsome stranger; however, you weren’t sure if he could be trusted. As you got up from your seat you clumsily knocked over your glass with your hand. It fell off the table, shattering on the wooden floor into tiny pieces. You bent down to collect the shards from the ground.

“I’m so sorry!” You apologized.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it!” the count insisted as he crouched down next to you.

“Damn it!” You cursed through clenched teeth as a sharp piece of glass cut into the palm of your hand.

“Are you all right?” asked the count and grabbed your hand to inspect the wound. He pecked a kiss on your palm where the glass had cut it and then licked away the blood. He kept his hungry eyes locked with yours for a moment before snapping out of his feral state.

"There’s no need to rush, little one…" the count whispered, his eyes locked onto yours as he released your hand.

The atmosphere in the room was tense, and you were torn between the urge to run out the door and the desire to stay with this alluring and probably unhinged man. As you weighed your options he got up and wallked to a cabinet, which he opened to pour himself a glass of ruby-colored beverage. After quickly downing it, he turned around and grabbed the edge of the table keeping his eyes on the ground.

"Is everything all right?" Your voice barely above a whisper, taking a cautious step towards him.

The count lifted his chin to meet your gaze, his eyes bloodshot – no, not bloodshot, rather glowing red, just like the eyes of those creatures you encountered in the forest – from whatever he had consumed. He placed one of his hands on the small of your back, pulling you towards him, and pressed his lips to yours in a deep and passionate kiss. You parted your lips so the count’s tongue could enter your mouth and caress yours. As you devoured each other with long, sensual strokes, the count grabbed your bottom with both hands and gave it a firm squeeze. A small moan escaped your lips as he pressed you against the bulge in his pants. You passionately tugged on the man’s lower lip earning a growl from him. The count pulled away from you, and for a moment, you caught a glimpse of his sharp fangs. Your eyes widened in shock as you finally put the pieces together. You swallowed nervously, heart pounding in your chest.

"Do not fret y/n, I won’t hurt you…" He murmured and wrapped one hand around your throat.

Your breath hitched as you felt a strange mix of fear and excitement wash over you. He kissed you, this time more ferociously. You sucked on the count’s tongue in response, earning a growl from him.

“You‘ve got potential I must admit…” He chuckled as he brushed his lips along your neck.

He stopped just above your collarbone, and planted a soft kiss on your smooth skin, then tenderly grazed his teeth over the same spot. He planted a few more kisses along your neck, before whispering in your ear, “Your body is exquisite. I wonder what you taste like…” As he whispered the words, his hands travelled to your waist, relishing every inch of your figure.

Then he pulled the strap of your dress down your shoulder, baring one of your breasts. He bent down to wrap his mouth around your nipple, sucking on your sensitive bud. With one skillful hand he pulled up your skirt and stroked over your mound with his dexterous fingers, then cupped it, squeezing it gently.

“So wet already…” He sighed and his nostrils flared as he noticed the sign of your arousal.

You could smell the sweet scent of musk mixed with leather, and a hint of oak on him, which made your core heat up with desire. You felt as if he had put a spell on you.

Suddenly the tall man lifted you and carried you to a nearby sofa next to the fireplace, positioning you so that your hips hung slightly off the edge. He tore the front of the delicate fabric of your dress so that your body was completely exposed. He got rid of your underwear in a quick manner and threw it aside. Then he swiftly put your thighs around his strong shoulders as he got on his knees. He kissed his way down your belly slowly before he buried his face into your cunt. He started to eat you out relentlessly — he pushed his stiff tongue against your clit and licked it with quick and vigorous laps.

“You taste so bloody delicious darling,” Grumbled the count as he placed one palm over your stomach just below your navel to put a little pressure on it.

The vibrations of his deep voice almost sent you over the edge. He licked up the juices leaking from your entrance then licked over your clit again, occasionally sucking, and nibbling on it. You arched your back, pushing your pussy into the man’s face. In response he grabbed your waist with both hands, squeezing it tightly while keeping you in place. As you got closer to your climax the count pushed one finger into your pussy.

“Oh, you’re so tight… Your cunny is perfect.” He groaned as he pushed in a second finger and started to slowly move them in and out curling his fingers while doing so.

You moaned and thrashed around in the his strong grip as you felt your orgasm approaching — pussy so swollen and throbbing that it was almost painful now. The earl felt that you were close to your climax, so he stopped licking your bud and instead started to pepper kisses along the insides of your thighs.

“Please, let me cum!” you whimpered and thrusted your hips toward the man. “Don’t torture me…please!” you pleaded.

The earl smiled and brushed his fingertips along the outside of your thighs as he started to lick your clit again with long lazy laps. You bit your lip as you felt your orgasm building up anew. He pushed two of his fingers into you again and started massaging your sweet spot while lapping at your swollen bud. You grabbed his hair, lightly scraping his scalp with your nails as you felt utter bliss flush through your body. Your walls clenched around his fingers as your muscles contracted, while juice started oozing out of your pussy, dripping down the count’s hand. Like a starved man he drank up every ounce of your arousal and licked his fingers clean.

Your pussy was still oversensitive, and you were extremely turned on. You wanted to feel his cock inside you. As you propped yourself up on your elbows the man unbuckled his belt with one hand and took off his pants. You lunged forward and pulled down his underwear, letting his manhood spring free. He was well-endowed — precum dripping from the tip of his long and thick cock. You pulled back the skin with one hand and put the tip in your mouth. You swirled your tongue around the head of the penis and sucked on it, relishing his taste then started to bob your head back and forth. He combed through your hair with his long fingers, grabbing the back of your head tenderly, guiding you to take him deeper. You obeyed and let him slide into your throat, moaning around his shaft. You tried to relax but you couldn’t keep yourself from gagging. As the muscles in your throat squeezed his cock he let out a shaky breath.

“You’re doing amazing, my little vixen,” he murmured peering down at you.

He thrusted into your mouth a few times before he pulled out.

“I want to cum in that tight pussy of yours. Now get on your back and spread your legs,” he commanded, and as soon as you were on your back, he wedged himself between your thighs.

He slid his cock in, and begun thrusting his hips. In this position the tip of his penis was rubbing right against your sweet spot. As he picked up the pace you felt another orgasm building in your belly, however this time the sensation was much more intense than anything you had ever experienced. The count grunted as he thrusted into you, and he was so hot. His strong and hairy chest and broad shoulders gave him a statuesque appearrance, not to mention his pale skin that glistened like marble in the dim lighting.

As he kept fucking you, you started to feel the overwhelming sensation of your orgasm approaching. And then you came, your walls spasming around his cock, squeezing it repeatedly as you reached your high. However it didn’t stop there, you kept coming as he fucked you roughly. You felt orgasm rushing through your body over and over sending you straight to heaven - you felt like floating, your pussy and belly quivering with each orgasm. When the count couldn’t hold back any longer, he came as well, and you felt his hot seed spill into you. After he filled you with his cum he bent down to plant a kiss on your neck. He nibbled gently on the soft skin, then grazed his sharp fangs over the mark he left.

You were still in your post orgasmic haze when the man pulled himself out of you, and scooped you up into his arms, carrying you up the stairs into his bedroom. He lay you down onto a bed and tucked you in. Then he lied next to you and ran his fingers through your hair as he kissed your forehead.

“Goodnight my sweet y/n…” he whispered in your ear while stroking your shoulder.

You snuggled up to him and let out a sigh as you drifted off to sleep.

[adamt101904]

Episode 4

The next afternoon Sebastian called the number on the card.

"Hello, VonFranken talent how may I help you."

"Yes hello my name is Sebastian and I need to speak to Mr. VonFranken please."

Sebastian waited on hold listening to heavy metal elevator music.

"Hello you got Viktor" said the voice on the phone in a heavy German accent

"Yes sir my name is Sebastian and with the band The Black Plague "

"I heard you guys burned it down at the Rocktober show last night"

"Yes sir thank you" Sebastian continued " A friend gave us your card and said we should call."

"Yes and I am glad you did" said Viktor. "We should get together and discuss some business."

"Ok sir, when should we come out to your office."

"Well you could definitely do that or you could just ring me up"

Sebastian looked out his window and saw a Lamborghini parked in the street in front of his place. How the hell did you know where to find them.

"Well you letting me up or not" said Viktor

Sebastian rung the man into the loft. The elevator opened up revealing a tall man with dark tied back in a ponytail dressed in a black suit carrying a brief case.

"Can I come in?" asked the man

"Yeah of course come in" said Sebastian

"Hello everyone my name is Viktor VonFranken and I am going to make you rich and famous. I want to sign you guys right now, got the contracts ready if you are."

"Man you don't fuck around do you Vik" said Dimitri

"No sense in it, I know what I want and I go for it" said Viktor.

"So what's the verdict you in or not"

The band looked at each other and made their decision.

"Yeah, were in" said Sebastian

"Outstanding" Viktor reached into his briefcase and brought out two sets of contracts. "This is your standard talent contract, sign here at the bottom."

The six put there signatures on the paperwork.

"Next is your standard 6 album deal contract" said Viktor. "Sign at the bottom."

"Six album deal!" yelled JJ and Tabitha together

"Yes that is right. Six albums with Cataclysm Records, the hottest metal label on the planet." said Viktor "So, we gonna sign or what guys"

The six friends signed the contract. The band couldn't believe it. Everything the rock demon had told them was coming true. Last night changed their lives forever.

"By the way, I talked to Johnny Rock, you guys are opening on the main stage at Rockfest." Viktor said" Your welcome" he closed the elevator door and took off.

Several days later Viktor called Sebastian and told him to be in Pittsburgh in three days to start recording their first album. They loaded up in the van, equipment in the trailer and headed out to Pittsburgh.

Three days later they showed up at Cataclysm Records. Viktor met them there and got them all set up. After four long weeks of rockin and rollin the album was done. The band celebrated by going too the Crypt, the hottest metal club in the east.

Beers and shots were downed, the girls danced their asses off. They had a hell of a time.

The next afternoon they went to see Viktor at his office.

"We have some important things to do today." he told everyone.

"First we need to agree on the cover art for your album."

"How do we do that" asked Dimitri

"Well I had the art department do some mockups for you all to check out."

Viktor had his assistant set up the six options on the room for them to see. JJ was the first one to speak up.

"I like number four." The others shook their heads in agreement.

Number four looked like an old movie poster with the bands name at the top, the album name at the bottom and an animated picture of the band in the middle.

"Ok, number four it is, you guys will still have to do a photoshoot for the inside art." said Viktor.

"Now, let's talk about your names" said Viktor " We need to come up with your stage names"

"What is the matter with our names" asked Marky

"Nothing per say they just don't fit your rock personas" said Viktor

"What names fit our persona's then" asked Tabitha

"Funny you should ask" Viktor said as he started handing out papers to everyone

"What is this" asked Sebastian

"This my friend is a list of potential names for you to choose from."

"Really" said Tabitha "Mummina"

"I think these all suck" said Dimitri

"Well I am open to suggestions everyone." said Viktor

"I like Stein" said Simon

"There we go someone is embracing the process"

"What's a Morgot?" asked Marky

"Morgot is the name of the demon of sound, I thought it was fitting."

"Sold" said Marky.

"Alright wolf, what did you have in mind" asked Viktor

"Well I am a wolf, and my name is Dimitri, how bout Wolfie D, the party animal"

"I love it, Wolfie D" said Viktor "Now ladies what are we thinking"

"Who is Isis? asked Tabitha.

"Isis is an ancient Egyptian goddess."

"Oh, a goddess you say, that would work"

"Isis it is, JJ your next girlfriend."

"I am thinking maybe something that starts with 'z', you know for zombie."

"Why not just Z, you can spell it Zee" said Simon.

"That sounds cool actually" JJ said.

"Your last but never least Sebastian, which one is the new you.?"

"I don't like any of them, they all sound super generic and just no" he said

"Come on Sebastian, at least try one" said Viktor

"I'm going to have to think about it"

"Ok, well we have one more piece of business to discuss before we call it a day." said Viktor " Sebastian, we need to address your look."

"What's a matter with my look, what about everyone else's look. " Sebastian protested

"See that is part of the problem, everyone else has a look, you do not. But not to fear we got your back."

Several of Viktor's assistants came into the room with a black robe and three boxes. Sebastian was concerned. There robe was on a mannequin, and so far so good.

"What do you think Sebastian?"

"That's it, not bad I'll wear that no problem."

"Excellent, wait to you see it all together you'll love it."

"Wait, what, the rest of it?"

"You are going to love it" said Viktor

Sebastian's eyes grew wider with every passing second. The before him was a long black robe with huge spikes shoulder pads and wings.

"What the hell is that" said Sebastian

"That's what is going to get you noticed on stage my boy" said Viktor "You are the front man, you need to stand out."

"Come Sebastian it's not that bad" said JJ

"Yeah it's like Type O Negative and Gwar had a love child" laughed Dimitri

"Ugh" said Sebastian "Ok look, I'll wear the outfit on one condition, my name stays the same."

"Deal" said Viktor

"Hear is your final gift Sebastian"

One of the assistants placed a case across Sebastian's legs. He was nervous, what could possibly be in there. He slowly unlocked the case and began to open it. Inside wasn't what he was expecting.

"A sword" Sebastian said excitedly

"Actually it's your new microphone, checkout the handle" said Viktor

Built into the handle of the sword was a wireless microphone.

"Awesome" said Sebastian

Viktor looked at everyone else

"There's new toys for all of you downstairs"

They were ready to burn down the Rockfest.

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

I've pre-ordered Grace Petrie's album that's coming out on March 8, and I think everyone else should also do that (and I think everyone should do it on Bandcamp rather than those other things because that's what lets you actually download and own your music instead of paying monthly or yearly to rent access to it for as long as the platform keeps hosting it, also Bandcamp is the way to buy music and have the highest percentage of your money go to the artist, here ends the PSA), but mainly this post is to say one of the songs from it is streaming for free already and it's really really lovely:

Has her voice gotten even better? Probably not, it was always beautiful, but I listened to this song for the first time on break at work at yesterday, in an empty classroom in a brief break in the middle of a day of chaos when I opened the email from her mailing list about the new track out now/album out for pre-order, and was really really struck by the amazingly strong vocals. So nice. I might have gotten a touch emotional at hearing something so beautiful in said empty classroom.

It's fine, not the first time she's done that to me. I got to see her live when she came to Canada in September and was definitely trying to hide from my dad who was next to me the small tears just from being so overwhelmed from being in the same room as her. Also her stand-up show Butch Ado About Nothing was one of three stand-up shows to make me cry last year, but was the only one to make me, like, really properly cry instead of just tearing up a bit. Is that the goal of most stand-up specials? Also made me laugh a lot, to be clear. It did succeed in the goal of stand-up specials to make people laugh.

I was going to now post a picture of the thing I have that's signed by her, but then I started writing a longer story about how that happened and sorry, I'm going to use this as an excuse to write this whole story again even though I already wrote it a few months ago because it's so fucking cool guys, but look the main takeaway from this post is that I'm excited for her new album and people should definitely listen to that new song.

(Warning: rarely seen pictures of my face behind the cut. Technically even something where you if you look hard enough you could see the name of the city where I live. I used to worry more about avoiding that on this blog because I really like being anonymous but since then I've relaxed a little because the internet is large and like four people read this blog and probably none of you are trying to dox me.)

So, I'd gone to Montreal to see Josie Long live in July, saw her on the same night as Tom Ballard and I'd say that was one of the top ten best nights of my entire life, and after the show I was hoping to run into Josie Long and was sort of walking around the area hoping I might happen to see her but wasn't about to do any more than that due to shyness and/or a reasonable desire to not appear creepy, and just as I was considering where I should go I literally nearly walked into her on the sidewalk, and I said a few wildly incoherent things and then pulled out a plastic bag that contained a pen and something I hoped she'd sign so the fact that I'd held onto that all through her show and Tom Ballard's sort of got rid of any illusions that I hadn't planned to run into her and may have destroyed any efforts to not appear creepy, and those efforts may have been further destroyed by the look on her face when I opened the bag because whatever she expected to be in there was definitely not a cardstock printout of a poster of the cover art for the cassette tapes released over ten years ago of her 2010 and 2011 stand-up shows. But I got her to sign it anyway and she was so nice and so kind even though like I said I was an absolute mess, I definitely managed to tell her I loved her recently released book but besides that I just talked incoherently for about thirty seconds and then ran away, only to go back twenty seconds later to say so I'm so sorry I forgot to ask if I could get a picture with you, and she said yes she was surprised I hadn't asked before. And then she asked me if I minded if she put her arm around me for the picture, even though I had made it very clear with my behaviour that that would be the coolest thing that's ever happened to me, because explicit consent over implied consent is important and she's so cool!

Anyway. Then in September I saw Grace Petrie live in my own city, and during the intermission she came out to sign CDs and things, and I bought a CD of an album that I already owned from Bandcamp and then got her to sign it just as a ruse to make me seem like a normal person/if you're going to ask an artist to talk to you for a few minutes it's nice if you bribe them by buying their stuff, and then, if Josie Long wasn't expecting me to pull out a Josie Long poster from the early 2010s and ask her to sign it, Grace Petrie definitely wasn't expecting me to do that, she looked quite shocked. I hastily told her I'm very sorry and I hope she's not offended that I want her to sign someone else's thing because I really am I massive fan of her music and I have all her albums but it's just that I love the idea of having both her and Josie Long's signatures on one thing because they've done touring together and are kind of associated, but unfortunately the only thing I have Josie Long's signature on is a Josie Long poster so would she possibly mind signing this other person's thing? And Grace Petrie was so very kind about it and got really excited to see I had that and said no of course she doesn't mind and Josie Long is one of her best friends and after she signed it she took a picture of it with her own phone so she could send the picture to Josie Long. And then I awkwardly said here's my dad I brought him with me and can he take a picture of us? And he did.

And then as a Christmas gift for me at the end of the year, my parents took that poster and got it framed. When I moved into my new place the month I made sure it got a prominent place on the wall, right next to the printout of the Bugle quote poster that @nyomkitten designed and also my artwork from Nova Scotia/Cape Breton and Newfoundland, just all my favourite things in one place:

Coolest fucking thing ever, all of that. I actually hadn't put that whole story in one post before, having just made posts about each part as it happened. I like having it all in one place, some nice pictures to look at when I feel like great things don't happen in life. But the main point is that people should go listen to Grace Petrie's new song, it's really really lovely and reminder that Bandcamp is the place to go to buy music in ways that's best for consumers and also supports artists.

While we're at it, in case people don't know her, here's my favourite song by Grace Petrie, which she closed her set with when I saw her live, the set was so perfect and she played all her best ones and by the time she got to the end I had heard every song of hers that I'd most wanted to hear barring one, and she said this will be her last one so I thought the only thing that could make this night less than perfect is if she doesn't play that one but there's only one more and even if this isn't it it was still an amazing night and it's okay, and then she turned to the guy on stage with her Ben Moss and mouthed something to him to let him know what the last song would be and I tried to read it and could see she mouthed "The Losing Side" at him, and that was when I knew the night would in fact be perfect, and it was, the tears that I previously mentioned definitely occurred during that song because it was so special to hear it live with all these other people who appreciated it too, which is why I like that YouTube has both the album version for hearing it in its proper quality:

and nice live versions to capture a little of the atmosphere of hearing it in a room of other people:

You'd think that me trying to quit drinking would lead to fewer incoherently emotional/overly personal posts on Tumblr. Weirdly, it's kind of increased them. Because I'd mostly stopped posting on Tumblr while drunk, being more likely to write a post while drunk but save it and edit it while sober and then post it. But now that I'm not drinking, I'll just my overly emotional shit when I'm feeling it and there won't be a time when I sober up to try to edit it into something reasonable so I'll just post it as-is. (Also not drinking is just fucking with my emotional state in general and I appreciate having Tumblr as an outlet where I can write weirdly emotional things to reflect that. Also I appreciate the existence of Grace Petrie.)

[ghostie-gengar]

N childhood memory thing!! i'm back on my "N has a secret mom" crap (1200 ish words)

N hurried through the halls of the castle, stumbling to put on his shoes on the way. Since he was about to have an audience with his father, he figured he’d better at least put on a pair of shoes. Admittedly, he hated wearing shoes, but it was better than adding to the numerous screaming arguments that would spark if he didn’t

He turned a few corners, smiled and waved when the occasional maid bowed for him- he was a prince, after all- and found the entrance to his father’s office.

However, when he smoothed down his shirt and got ready to knock on the door, he saw it was slightly ajar.

N nervously shifted, then knocked three times. After a few moments with no reply, he called out, “Father? Are you there?”

No reply.

Brimming with curiosity, he peeked through the crack, squinting through at the warmly lit office. He began to pry the door open further, but stopped himself.

It had been expressly and repeatedly stated that N wasn’t allowed in there. And N wasn’t really in the mood to get hit or yelled at or grounded.

He stepped back and mulled over it for a few minutes, then decided. He opened the door with a creak, then slipped in.

He was at the age where he wasn’t one to follow rules, after all.

N had been in the office a couple of times, mainly for the odd brief discussion with his father. The floor was covered in an intricately embroidered carpet N would have loved to feel on his bare feet, and the walls were lined with bookshelves holding books on subjects from philosophy to art. N itched to flip through them, excited by the prospect of a whole room of books he hadn’t read yet, but figured he’d better not mess with anything. (At this point, he was risking having to wash the floors, too.)

“Father?” he called again, just so he could pretend he was still looking for him.

There was a large painting hanging above the desk. It depicted a cloudy, misty evening, where a Hydreigon clawed and tore away at a flower- a gladiolus, if N remembered correctly. What’s more, based on the tiny doodles he’d seen on the corners of his father’s notes, he could safely assume his father had painted it himself.

N stepped closer just to marvel at it. His father had never shown him his art, or anything personal, really. Maybe that’s why the concept of wandering into his forbidden office was so alluring.

He carefully turned around, ready to leave before he could get caught, but saw something very interesting on the desk.

There was a notebook (N didn’t even want to look at it, for he knew his father would likely kill him), as well as a few open books. One of the books was a sketchbook, where the open page depicted a near identical drawing of the vase of flowers nearby.

But most strikingly, was a small picture, in sunbleached colour, of two people.

One of them was his father. He looked younger and quite dapper in a dress shirt and slacks. His eyes were turned up in a smile, including the right eye N had never seen. 

N picked up the frame to get a closer look.

The other person was a woman around his father’s age, clinging to his arm and beaming with all the light in the world. Her hair was a light pink and tied up in a bun, and she wore a pretty yellow dress.

She kind of looked like N’s older sister. Her eyes were more like his other sister, though.

And of course, as he stared down at the window into his father’s past, that was the moment when the door creaked open, with his father on the other side.

“N? What are you doing in my office?” the man said with a frown.

N’s heart hammered against his chest, and his head began to feel fuzzy. “I’m sorry!” he quickly sputtered out. “I know I’m not allowed in here, but I was looking for you, but you weren’t here, and-” He bit his tongue. Excuses would only make things worse!

His father’s eyes fell to the frame in his hands. “What do you have there?” 

“I shouldn’t have looked,” N said, wincing as his father drew nearer, “but I was curious.” He squeezed his eyes shut, but his father didn’t strike him, or yell. Just placed a hand on his back and peered over at the picture.

“That’s an old photograph,” he simply said.

N went still, mustering the courage to even speak. “Who is she?”

He didn’t think his father would reply. Surprisingly, he was wrong.

“My wife. Your mother.”

Mother?

Of course, since he was fourteen, N’s first thought was, My dad gets girls??

He couldn’t say that, obviously, so he looked closer at the picture. Sure enough, he could see little traces of himself in her brown eyes, and her freckles, and her smile full of crooked teeth.

“She’s pretty,” N said, at a loss for anything else to say.

“She was very beautiful,” His father gently took the frame from N’s hands. “and very kind.” He set the picture back down on the desk.

Was.

Ah. 

N knew better than to inquire further, and his father knew better than to let him.

“Now, what did you need me for?” his father asked, voice edging on annoyance.

N’s mind went blank. In all his excitement and discovery…he totally forgot why he’d wanted to visit in the first place.

He bowed his head. “It slipped my mind. I’m sorry.”

His father rolled his good eye. The one that wasn’t concealed by an eyepatch. “Alright, then.” He patted N’s back. “Get out of my office.”

“Yes, sir!” N hurriedly shuffled out of the room, but paused at the doorway. “I like your art.”

“Out of my office.”

“Could I read your books sometime?”

“Out.”

N ran off, for he knew when his father was reaching the end of his short fuse. Still, it was a miracle he wasn’t in more trouble, but maybe his father was busy thinking up a punishment.

He kicked off his shoes and scooped them up as he ran.

He always imagined his father was hiding wicked, magical secrets behind the door to his office, like a Griseous Orb or maybe a Time Gear! (If confused about the latter, please consult N’s favourite book, Explorers of Sky)

But, everything in that office was so…normal. Why would his father feel the need to hide something so ordinary, like art or books or a picture of his wife?

Wife. N still couldn’t believe a lady would like his father.

He closed himself into his room and flopped over onto his bed, then thought about the woman’s smiling face.

He had a lot of questions, and he doubted they’d be answered.

“She was very beautiful, and very kind.”

…That’s what his father had said. He’d sounded uncharacteristically tender and forlorn, as well. He must have really loved her. It seemed hard to imagine, since he was always yelling and mad about something.

“She was very beautiful, and very kind.”

N wondered if she would have said the same thing about his father.

[something-tofightfor]

Sunday (Monday) Six

I was going to post this yesterday but I got sidetracked. Here’s 6 excerpts of 6 sentences from 6 different WIPs that I have going right now. 

Enjoy. 

All I Ever Needed (Just Too Good To Be Gone Joel Miller x Reader)

“Gimmie a minute.” He sighed, closing his eyes - and then pushed his pants down to his ankles in one smooth movement before stepping out of them and kicking them backwards. The denim joined the pile of other clothing he’d just removed and left him standing in front of you in only a threadbare pair of boxers, the elastic settled low on his hips. “If this ain’t warm, I -” 

He stopped though, as soon as he dipped a single foot into the pool, the man’s jaw dropping as your grin widened. 

You watched him relax - watched the way his posture loosened the deeper he got into the water, the man only opening his eyes when he twisted his body backwards to reach for his gun.

The Truth Is Out There (Marcus Pike x Reader)

He was moving with you, taking one step for every two of yours, and even though you knew it was a terrible idea, you wanted him to close the distance. “You’d avoid me afterward, Marcus.” 

Your back hit the wall next to the bedroom door and at the impact you whimpered, one hand held out in front of you to stop him. Is it to stop him or to touch him? Your question was answered when Marcus’ chest made contact with your hand, the tip of one finger pressed to the sliver of chest visible above the collar of his shirt. 

“No I wouldn’t.”

Nightingale (Jay Castillo x Reader)

Over the next few weeks, you got to know Jay better in a variety of ways. 

You talked occasionally on the phone, though the majority of your conversations happened through text messages or voice notes, the sound of his laugh brightening even the most annoying days at work. 

He’d been to your house, the man stopping over twice at your request for a late dinner after finishing at the shop - the meals turning into lounging on your couch and watching a movie before moving into your bedroom. You’d spent the night at his loft again, too, sitting back and watching as Jay worked on art in the sunlight that streamed in through the large windows, or under the artificial light from the bulbs he brought out at night. 

You went out for dinner or drinks a few times, meeting at hole-in-the-wall bars that smelled like stale beer or casual restaurants that gave you a chance to relax and not think too hard for a few hours. 

It was easy with Jay in a way that you hadn’t expected, and even though you’d ended up back in bed with him more often than not, you weren’t in any rush to put a label on what it was that you had between you.

Locked Down (Dieter Bravo x Reader)

So you forced yourself to wait until you’d paid for your groceries and were sitting in the parking lot, grabbing for the magazine and finding the correct pages. As you read them, you couldn’t contain your laughter. The “article” was little more than a few paragraphs picking apart Dieter’s social media posts, as well as Tina’s, and then pictures next to brief mentions of multiple other women he’d been linked to in the past - including Jennifer Pearson, Carol Cobb and Mara. 

You - like Christen - were simply listed as a “mystery woman”, and by the time you finished reading, you were upset that you’d shelled out the money to buy it. 

So you did the only thing you could think of and held the magazine up next to your face, grinning as you raised your phone and took a selfie. Attaching it to a text message, you sent it to Dieter, along with one sentence: Baby’s first tabloid cover!

All the Same Old Places (Tommy Miller x Reader; pre JTGtBG)

Tommy laughed, reaching up with one hand and pushing his sunglasses up to rest atop his head and giving himself the opportunity to look at you without the tinted lenses in the way. Shoulda done this a few minutes ago, holy shit. 

He wasn’t the only one interested in what he saw - and he wondered if he’d been able to keep his expression more neutral than you had.

Tommy held back a smile at the way your eyes widened at the sight of his entire face, an involuntary tug on the inside of your lip visible as you bit down on it. Better late than never. “No worries.

Hot Corner (Baseball Jack Daniels x Reader)

“We’re going to miss it, come on.” The little boy tugged on your hand, almost dragging you toward the steps in his excitement. “They only come out for a couple minutes before the games.”

“Caleb, you’ve gotta relax, we’re early, I promise you.” You were grinning, though, as he led you toward the field, and when you saw that some of the players were already on the outfield, tossing balls back and forth, your smile grew. “See Kiddo, Jack’s not out there yet - none of the infielders are.”

[dojae-huh]

Completely agree with your standpoint on the NCT Home app issue.

I personally think that it was harmless, except for the fact that SM is capitalising on fans nonstop but what's new? They'd do anything to promote the Neos, even if making them into controllable avatars.

Maybe they view it as dehumanising since the movement of the graphics seems very unsettling, and with the rising issue of how deepfakes are ruining people's lives could explain the mass fear of the app. But the Neos have agreed to the idea, given if they were briefed and signed a contract before shooting all the angles. So what's the big harm? They consented, just as how other form of fanservice they have done.

Fans should address the "dehumanising" issue from another standpoint - how SM is less focusing on their musical talent and promoting their idol image as products. Nowadays it's all about looks - all these merchandises with their beautiful images being sold and of course fans (and me) will spend some money (for Doyoung's pretty smile). SM and the NCT team needs to reflect on what even started the Neo movement, because now it's getting pretty stale... How the "Neo" brand is presented to the public... It's what made NCT special from other groups, and I really love their uniqueness and bravery to challenge different concepts each time. Hopefully after all this SM mess die down, we'll get NCT 2020 back (one of their best comebacks).

Thanks for reading my 2 cents, love your blog!

I agree, AI imitating art, deep fakes, body shape enhancing and skin smoothing filters are very new phenomenas, people are still sorting out how they feel about it, where is the line, what is ethical and what is not. Because there is no consensus, it attracts attention and provokes thought.

I can't be sure, however, I suspect that Japanese and Koreans saw no problem with the app. They are much more accustomed to virtual reality and virtual idols, the idea of robots looking like humans, etc. Look at how idols often play with face demorphing filters. It is fun, not scary. At least at this stage, when the line moved just a tad, when it is still "just a game".

To make it clear, I agree with the fans who don't like the app. It is better to stop a malpractice at the beginning than fear SM will release your bias avatars in the future for sell. I would prefer to have Naevis kind of avatars, completely made from scratch. Still, is there really a big difference between making a digital likeness of an idol to open its mouth and making a flesh-and-blood idol to open his mouth by showing a funny cartoon as an instruction to action? In the first case it's emotionless pixels, in the second case it's a real person with feelings you have an eye contact with in a situation where you are in a position of power over him for a minute.

There are "class clown' people who will do a lot to get attention, ilicit a laugh and be cheered on. These type of people do aegyo and everything else with ease. And, surelly, there are "dancer"/"show off" type of people who are very in tune with their body and sexuality and are not afraid of being sexy or even provocative at all. It doesn't apply to all idols. Some have to bear through the tasks, psychologically adjust, internalise their feelings because "it's what the fans want, it's what is needed to be done to achieve popularity". However, because "it is the norm", only extreme cases "warrant" concern from fans.

The Neoness... I'm waiting for the new comeback. 127 and NCT2023's run in 2023 will tell if the new SM showrunners remember the roots and the main idea or not.

Do you know that idol pictures evolved from prints of portraits of Japanese kabuki actors? Ans that mostly the actors survived thanks to their patrons not tickets? Koreans imported a lot of J-pop practices in the beginning.

As said as it is, the music doesn't sell on its own. It is well known that even cello players who cover rock bands and modernise classic pieces have to be conventionally attractive to make it big in general public. And, let's be completely brutally honest, many of neos are not that talented to make it on singing/dancing skills alone. Not even Doyoung. Therefore, I just accept the promotional idol part of things. I agree, though, that 127 need to comeback to neoness. Taeyong's hairdo in "Ay-Yo" was a breath of fresh air...

The solos released by SM these past months for other SM artists make me be at ease. The music is good, the albums are nice to look at, there are thought-through concepts. Jaehyun got a nice video for his solo song. It was promoted in a quite way, by the way. Many magazines included it in the top 20 songs of the year lists. Renjun does a lot of covers for YT. Taeyong released several dance videos for his unreleased tracks.

"Killing voice" happened. Karaoke sessions and singing in a cafe live were shot and uploaded to YT. Xiaojun was sent to shows where he sang live. So SM staff does some work in this direction. Not enough, I agree. It will be nice to see neos more often on those programmes that allow to showcase vocal abilities.

[disappointingyet]

Buffalo 66

Director Vincent Gallo Stars Vincent Gallo, Christina Ricci, Anjelica Huston, Ben Gazzara, Kevin Corrigan USA 1998 Language English 1hr 50mins Colour

Problematic… yet brilliant

Very brief opening note: Please don’t take this review as signalling approval of anything Vincent Gallo has said or done off-screen. I used to have opinions on to what extent Gallo believed the stuff he says*, but at this point I can’t be bothered.

Very brief opening note 2: In rough outline, this is a film about a creepy guy in his thirties who abducts a young woman in her late teens and is consistently unpleasant to her and yet over the afternoon and night during which the action takes place, she comes to feel strong affection for him. If that sounds unacceptable to you, I understand.

But, but… I think this is a great movie, weird and uncomfortable and everything else, but funny and beautiful and surprising. I was wondering how it would feel watching in 2024 as opposed to when I first saw it, in 1998, but it turns out my take on the work itself hasn’t shifted.

A quick plot intro: Billy Brown (Gallo) is being released from prison. While inside, he’s made an elaborate attempt to hide where he's been from his parents. Now he’s out, he’s going round for lunch - but his mother won’t accept the excuse he’s trying on behalf of his non-existent wife. So he grabs the nearest woman, forces her to take him to her car and tells her she’s coming to lunch with his parents. 

A couple of things worth saying at this point. One is that although Billy is undoubtedly scary at moments in the movie, he’s also very obviously pathetic. The other is that to me that Layla (Christina Ricci) decides the best way to cope with this situation is to treat it all as a kind of adventure and by the time we get to the film’s first showpiece – the meal with Billy’s appalling parents (Anjelica Huston and Ben Gazzara) – she’s going beyond what he’s told her to do and is enjoying improvising.

(It’s also true, though, that we learn absolutely nothing about Layla’s life.)

So why did I argue in a national newspaper that this was the sixth best film of the 1990s? Let’s start with Billy’s somewhat unhinged, repetitive outpourings aimed at Layla or his sidekick Goon (Kevin Corrigan), who is trying to rename himself Rocky. Sometimes these are unconvincing self-justifications, sometimes they are unworkable instructions, like this to Layla in a photobooth: 

‘We're taking pictures like we're a couple. Like we like each other. Like we're husband and wife, and we span time together. We span time together as a couple. Because we're a loving couple, spanning time. These photos are us, in love, spanning time.'

Writing the words doesn't capture Billy's strange whiny insistence, his distinctive tone. These spiels should be hugely tiresome, but I find them mostly extremely funny and always revealing.

Then there are the looks of the film. There’s carefully rationed use of a screen covered in a dozen or so different-sized square images, and of squares that expand, which make me think of Peter Greenaway or the kind of film made for an art gallery rather than a commercial release. 

When it’s not doing that, I feel Buffalo 66 has more in common with magazine photography of the time than other films of 1998. The wintery streets of Buffalo are shown in desaturated greyish tones, while the interiors often have deep reds. Gallo and Ricci are filmed with the loving care of classic Hollywood beauties, say Clark Gable and Ava Gardner, but Corrigan is shot in the manner of… I’m thinking Juergen Teller, maybe?… often all that’s in shot is his bare paunch, his head somewhere off camera. 

I remember there being a story about some super rare film stock and processing technique used, but I don’t know whether that was some more Gallo bullshit. Either way, it’s a film that’s immensely beautiful when it wants to be. The cinematographer is Lance Acord, who a couple of years later shot Lost In Translation, and there’s something in common there.

The cast is maybe a couple of notches up from what you’d expect from the directorial debut of a rentagob indie actor. You’ve Anjelica Huston, you’ve got John Cassavetes’ bestie Ben Gazzara, Rosanna Arquette... (oh, and Mickey Rourke – sure, getting him is no coup, but getting a good one-scene performance out of him this late in the game, as Gallo does, that’s something.)

Ricci had been a big child star and was busy establishing herself in grown-up movies – at this point there was still a novelty factor in seeing her in this context. 

Buffalo 66 feels a couple of steps to the left of its contemporaries. It would be very wrong to say it has nothing in common with US Indies of the time, not matter how much Gallo would want to claim that. But there is something different, zagging when they’d zig, for instance the prog rock-drenched soundtrack. Don’t get me wrong: give me Yo La Tengo in a Hal Hartley or Kelly Reichardt pic over Yes in a Gallo one any day, but he was certainly making an unusual choice for the late 1990s. 

There’s such an odd mix of elements here: it’s a film about a motormouth that has moments of gentle elegance, there’s ugliness and beauty, its unnerving and funny and yes, even sweet at times – but to me at least, it all slots together wonderfully. 

In conclusion: Vincent Gallo – twat. Buffalo 66 – a film understandably used a signifier for the rubbishness of clueless film bro ex (who boasts he has it on DVD) in Wet Leg’s 2022 song Wet Dreams. But also: Buffalo 66 – still kinda awesome. 

*Briefly (OK, not so briefly): in 1998 I was working at Neon, a film magazine in London. Gallo was a Neon favourite because he gave endlessly quotable interviews, a rare commodity. Then he makes Buffalo 66 and declares – very Gallo this – that he’ll only do interviews for magazines that put him on the cover. Obviously is not famous enough to actually shift copies of a magazine. Neon decides to put Vinny on the cover nonetheless and somehow convinces the publisher. I had no decision-making power but would have been among the group pushing for a Buffalo 66 cover (for reference: the issue before had Godzilla on the cover, the one after was George Clooney for Out Of Sight). I think we sponsored the UK premiere of the film at the Ritzy in Brixton. I assume Gallo was there? Have zero memory if so, certainly never spoke to him.