moles club

Whoo hoo it’s finally done!

This is my entry for the Specter of torment art contest! I wanted to do a fun cafe scene and it was quite the challenge to get this up and running in time but I’m glad I got to try. I’ve seen so many other entries and I’m so excited for everyone, and I wish you all the best! Please zoom in for details

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Please do not repost, alter, or redistribute without my permission or remove the artists comments!

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Chapterhouse - Moles, Bath 21st March 1991 Always one for pestering my favourite pop stars. After cancelling their earlier gig they kindly wrote to me on tracing paper & sent me an ep.

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Chapterhouse - Moles, Bath 21st March 1991

I take no credit for these photos as they were taken by a friend of mine. Mine defo aren’t as good but will post them at some stage.

Whilst most preferred Andrew, Stephen was my favourite & I enjoyed my many chats with him after gigs. I’m also a sucker for a skinny framed guy and tend to go for the underdog!

Dream Sweet in Sea Major 2

When considering traditional standards of beauty or masculine charm, the features that made Yagura recognizable were not often considered. A notable scar below the one eye, irises colored bleeding pink, and a diminished stature that confused him with children if viewed from behind. No, Yagura was not what tradition would call beautiful, but he was other things.

Among those things he was old, considerably old, and in all the years of his long existence he had learned how to be. He knew what angles worked for him, what lighting suited his features, and how to lower his tenor to a velvet edged voice that could turn razor sharp in a second.  He knew how to hold himself, how to dress himself, how to carry himself. He knew his worth and his worth was pretty damn high. The world was meant for him and was his. He acted as haughty as he pleased and the world slid right into his palm.

It gave him no little delight to be proven time and time again that the world was his to manipulate and take from as he pleased. The woman in the doorway seemed to do nothing more than stoke his already engorged ego.

There was blood across the floor and a dead hand under the toe of his designer shoes. Yagura leaned his head to the side and lowered his lids before lifting a rolled cigarette to his lips and cupping the end. A small burn of red and the end caught and began to smoke.  

With the toe of his shoe he poked under the dead hand and kicked it up so it flopped back down onto the face of the corpse just as he took a long drag to exhale in semi dramatic fashion. The woman in the doorway didn’t move, and her eyes were still glued in appreciation to his figure even though half the other employees were scared and hiding.

“That’s enough for now,” he said to the other boys, turning away so the tail ends of his jacket flapped like a cape behind him. It made his walk all the more purposeful as he walked past the hungry woman and left her wanting. He didn’t even glance her way as he called out to the boys behind him.

“I think they got the message here. We’ll be back in the hour though if they step into our turf again.”

“You think we needed to leave so few alive?” Haku asked in a clear voice that reminded Yagura of the ice.

“Ao?” Yagura grunted before exhaling smoke again.

Ao came up behind Hake and purposefully stopped to turn and look behind them before pulling his gun out from the front breast pocket of his gray pinstripe. He aimed in less than a second and recoiled only slightly when the shot rang out and sank into the woman in the doorway’s forehead.

Slowly, purposefully, Ao put his gun away and reached for his hat instead. The rack had all their hats, as well as a few others that would never be worn by their owners again.

Yagura fit his fedora and pulled the front down low over his eyes before stepping out. A thin mist had settled and every so often the rain would come and wet the world further. It was perfect weather and the Mizu boys were all the stronger for it.

Haku begrudgingly followed his betters out and kept his head down, least his questions lead to more avoidable bloodshed. One woman was too risky to leave alive if she sported a handgun in the belt on her thigh? Apparently.

Ao drove, but Yagura rode from the backseat and was the real directioner for their group. If he didn’t want to go back to Mei’s place than they didn’t have to. She was technically their boss and really the only person that could handle Yagura enough to boss him into doing things for her.

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Undercover 2/?

Continued from here

The escort was dressed simply, a plain white button-up under a black waistcoat and black slacks, but the cut of the clothing hinted maddeningly at what lay underneath. The shirt was unbuttoned enough to show quite a bit of his chest and the vest nipped in to emphasize his trim waist.  When he stepped into the room, Francis made a show of turning to shut the door behind him, revealing that his pants must have been chosen expressly to display his fantastic ass.

Erik wondered who exactly in the department had such good taste in men, because Francis’s appearance didn’t scream sex in an abrasive way; it moaned it quietly enough that you wanted to get closer and hear all the details.

Of course, that was when Erik managed to pry his eyes from Francis’s ass to look at his face.  Granted, he was mostly successful because Francis had turned around, so Erik couldn’t keep staring.

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anonymous asked:

also what is the thing about iker casillas? do people not like him or smth? idgi he seems like such a nice dude and he looks so sad sometimes?? i remember like falling for him during wc 2010 when there was an extensive slow mo shot of him like wobbling his cheeks. idk man how did he even do that i've tried

This can’t be answered with an ask, it’s a massively ~complex, shitty situation. Iker has been at RM longer than anyone else (even the current administration), since he was a very little boy, and was once untouchable, being called the “personification of Madridismo”. Our ex-manager, the unfortunate human being that is Jose Mourinho, was very against the fact that Iker united a club & a nation and did everything in his power (including imply and leak to media that he’s the ‘mole’ of the club, which, ironically, was Jose Mourinho, and his fervent supporters, which sometimes come in the shape of players at our club). Mourinho gained a lot of die-hard fans (the scum that is Mourinhistas) with his psychotic ideologies and they all see Iker as the number one enemy. I can’t even try to be objective about this situation because it makes me feel physically ill every time it’s rehashed, but Casillas is the greatest most self-sacrificing captain I could ever imagine and deserves nothing but respect and protection.