wolf dimarco

[gxldenwxlf]

HEY, i think i just saw WOLFGANG DIMARCO walking down the strip. stop by to catch up and you’ll learn the THIRTY THREE YEAR OLD is working as a SECRETARY AT CITY HALL + SERVER AT CUPID'S ARROW and lives in THE CROIX TOWNHOUSES. given they are JOYOUS but DENSE, it’s likely that they ARE NOT a vampire. i bet you can find them tearing up the dance floor to HOLIDAY by green day and you’ll know why they’re called THE GOLDEN RETRIEVER.  ☾ .⭒˚ oliver stark. male + he/him. bi-curious + leo.

A consummate middle child, Wolfgang DiMarco grew up learning how to be adaptable. His parents met in Las Vegas, but shortly after the birth of their first child, moved to the Midwest for an ideal job opportunity. There, Wolf was born, learning the culture and habits of a suburban kid. He was nothing if not... eager. He established himself as a class clown (though granting him the title of "class" anything was difficult given how badly he did in school). However, right as he was entering middle school, his grandfather fell ill and the family moved back to Vegas. His younger sibling entered the picture shortly after that, making Wolf the only member of his family not born in the city everyone else called home.

Music became a hideaway for Wolf throughout his teenage years. A combination of acting out at home for attention (which did not work) and a school that was oh-too-easy to skip out on led to a wannabe punk. He befriended Cyrek in high school - where others saw the guy as a bit of a freak, Wolf couldn't help but revel in the true connection the two formed. In some ways, Cyrek became more important to Wolfgang than his own family at times.

Wolf stumbled through the rest of school with his bandmates, and all the way through a "D's Get Degrees" business degree. Upon graduation, he suddenly had bills to pay (and his parents were busy getting the youngest into colleges). It was then an uncle stepped in, using a few connections to get Wolf set up with a rather cushy job in the city hall. Of course, it didn't exactly pay well (not that Wolf earned his keep anyway), and he took up a second gig at the club he frequented throughout college.

His relationship with music has transitioned since he struck out truly on his own. With little outside support and the ever present cry of the "real world" on his mind, he's started taking the partying and punk rocking less seriously. Don't let this fool you, though - Wolfgang DiMarco knows how to take nothing seriously.

[adrianxdiaz]

Adrian didn't know what dragged him out to the events; he was still reeling from the murder of his father, the investigations.....just everything that had seemed to whirlwind through Las Vegas these past few weeks. Yet here he was out and about on the town, currently at Cupid's Arrow. When he made his way up, he was surprised to see, well, Wolfgang from city hall, shocked that he was able to actually mix a drink....and equally shocked at the outfit he was finding him in.

"Wolfgang? I didn't realize you uhh worked here." Trying not to stare at his chest, he kept his eyes fixated on his mouth. "Come on, give me a hint at least? I am not big on surprises; I get enough of those from work. At least tell me, would one of them get me drunk? Because I am trying to avoid that tonight."

[gxldenwxlf]

Wolf finally looked up at his new customer, and his face fell into a shocked grin. A deep blush flushed his cheeks, likely even visible in the low, pulsing lights of the club. He knew Adrian was in a tough situation, and knew the horrible things he had endured the past few weeks. But Wolf wasn't about to judge Adrian for the ways he spent his time - he hoped only that Adrian at the bar didn't mean he was crashing out. He sheepishly scratched behind his head, a small smile on his face.

"Oh, uh... yeah. Not that I don't like working at city hall. It's just... I can't pass up the tips here. Usually I'm out on the floor as a server, but during Rodeo Days, they ask me to hang out back here. I'm not... particularly good at it." He chuckled. "But I can tell you - yes. A rodeo clown would absolutely fuck you up." His eyes bulged. "I mean, would absolutely get you drunk. Sorry. It's uh... well. There's not really a recipe. I just kind of mix alcohols then turn it red with grenadine."

[soulsuckcr]

was there a place on earth where he could feel any more misplaced than this? as a chronic homebody—and, more importantly, someone who would sooner shove handfuls of glass down his throat than listen to country music for longer than ten minutes—the answer was likely no. but, alas, his friends had insisted, swearing up and down that it would be fun, that he’d loosen up eventually, that it would be good for him… which sounded suspiciously like the sort of thing people said moments before everything went sideways. in all truth, his reluctance was entirely justified—given the last time he’d agreed to something like this had ended with a permanent scar carved into his arm, and a newfound fear of power tools ( and, admittedly, ghosts ), but that was neither here, nor there; more of a story reserved for a late-night oversharing session. unfortunately for the florist, their friends had scattered into the crowd, and they were left to fend for themself amongst the noisy scene, fingers twisting together absently as they contemplated, well, everything. in his defense, he had attempted to dress for the occasion—the little cow ears perched atop his head counted for something, right? rather than continuing to stand there looking like a frightened woodland creature about to bolt, jonghyeon opted for a drink. the familiar face behind the counter came as a relief. “a… rodeo clown?” the echo was hesitant, but amused, a smile on their face, which would falter when their gaze fell upon the unsettling mime a distance away. “as long as that stays far away from me, i’ll take one. please,” it gave him the creeps. no thank you! big eyes returned to the bartender, fighting against a shiver. “how have your rodeo days been so far, wolfgang?”

[gxldenwxlf]

Wolf lit up as he found Jongyeon across from him. It was always exciting when a bandmember found him "in the wild," so to speak. Jonghyeon was a bit of an odd duck, perhaps, but Wolf couldn't deny the electric vibes he could fall into, often hidden in the shadows upstage of Cyrek. He flashed a wide smile and fished out a glass, starting to mix various clear alcohols into it with abandon. He was not, after all, a trained bartender.

Wolf glanced sideways at Jonghyeon's gesture, and stifled a chuckle. "Ah, yeah. Nah, Tim's a great guy, but he tends to have a bit of a freaky effect on people. Especially tonight, for some reason." He topped off the drink with a healthy does of grenadine, turning the whole thing a bright red color. "My rodeo days have been pretty good, all things considered. This place has been hopping, which has been nice. I get bored too fast."

He slid the drink out to the guitarist. "And don't worry about paying, this one's on me." He smiled. "But, if you want, you do get to ring the bell - knock yourself out." He indicated a rope tied to a cowbell at the end of the bar.

[nxnbinarydracvla]

with: vain rogues and the ghost orchestra ; nadine, spencer, wolfgang where: the dead man's fingers when: mid april 1997

Music had always been something like escapism from the chagrin of daily moaning and groaning. These days, it was a welcome vacation from combing over profits for the MC and reading the notes left by various members in the ledger to figure out what the next move should be. Indecision had frozen him in place before, and the universal language was a welcome hard reset and drowned out the inner raucousness inside his head — tonight was really just for fun.

Competition was friendly in every sense of the word — there weren't a gratuitous amount of new punk-adjacent bands that crawled out of the woodwork in Las Vegas, as he was privy to seeing the jazz musicians strutting the Strip on the way to Kitty's more than anything. There were a scattered few that he had made the acquaintance of, but a brand-new face popping off in popularity on the other side of the same coin was especially exciting with the festival circuit of summertime coming up. A mocktail in his hand and his mouth chasing after the straw as he watched the ladies line up on the stage where he lurked at the back of the crowd with the other members of Vain Rogues, he sounded out the Cosmix bannering across the drum kit.

"I kinda dig the stage design," the vocalist remarked to the drummer, giving Spencer a jesting elbow to the ribs and adding, "I think you've got a run for your money, the lady looks like she means business." Grinning, he took another sip of his drink as the lights dimmed for the collaboration of pop meeting punk. The scintillating lights embellished the stage in a sparkling enigma, portraying the vocalist as if to walk on starshine itself, and contrasting the dirge of direly dark punk rock that demanded to be heard with straining voices and squealing guitar notes. "Think we can beat 'em if we end up in a battle of the bands this year?" / @ofdesertroses

[ofdesertroses]

One thing that Spencer kept with him after the lost of his parents was his love of music. He learned a lot from his biological parents. His own father taught him how to play the drums from a very young age. Coming home to see his dad ready to teach him new songs was the highlight of coming home after school. He would do his homework and then practice drums with his father. Sure he has taught himself other instruments, but the drums is one he'll always come back to. Music was his passion. Always has been. It was a his drum to be part of a band and he was grateful that Cy gave him a chance despite his last name.

And trust he earned. Not only from his buddy Cy, but everyone else in their band as well. It was his goal to show that not all Vitelli's were bad. That he was the normal one. He eased right into the band and being their drummer. He had thought he was pretty good at playing. Spencer loves their band. But he guesses a little bit of competition was good for them. He just was worried that they'll find a drummer that was better than him and he'll get replaced. Every time a new band came in they didn't seem to really stick around or were that good. But this new one, Cosmix, even Spencer had to admit that they were pretty good.

"I mean, I guess the set design is alright. Are we allowed to like things they do?" He asks, genuinely curious if they can like their so called competition. Spencer does watch the drummer closely, eyes squinting despite wearing glasses to get a better look at her. He could tell right away that she was a really good drummer. But he's been practicing for years. He can't help thinking that maybe he's slightly better. "I do have quite a good competition now, huh? I guess I gotta start practicing more to make us look good." He laughs, head shaking slightly. He was impressed by how fast the drummers hands were moving. He was fast, but she went faster. He enjoyed music they were playing, but Spencer loved music. Even if he wasn't supposed to like it, he did. "I think we have a shot. But, prefers we won't win because they're new...fresh. And Vegas has already seen us. So...I hope we win."

[gxldenwxlf]

Unlike the other members of his band, Wolf had no issue whatsoever with jamming out to the newcomers' music. He had already tried (and failed) to purchase a drink for a bedazzled young man who was clearly here for the cosmically-inspired band on stage, so he had wandered back to his group, a glass of beer in each hand that he sipped from in turns to stop them from spilling over. This was made notably more difficult given the fact he had both hands raised above his head and he was bouncing and grooving to the music.

"Eh, just depends on who shows up," Wolf said, eyes closed and shoulders swaying. He brought a beer to his lips to take a pull. "We've got folks who will show up." He glanced around the crowded room. "Though, I guess it does seem like Cosmix has some pull, too."

[cfstvlla]

"YOU LOOK FAR TOO HAPPY TO BE WORKING something like this," Stella commented dryly, knowing she'd detest it were she in his shoes, before answering any of the questions or offers posed, though amusement was playing in the shadows of her deadened (no pun intended) expression. Really, she shouldn't have been surprised, as his current joyous demeanor was no different than what she had observed during sound checks when setting up merchandise stands at each and every venue the Vain Rogues played at, even if it never failed to be at least slightly jarring to her just by how juxtaposing it was to her own. "Full sobriety, so unless you can promise me there's no alcohol in that rodeo clown, I'm gonna have to pass on that one. You got any good mocktails for this thing? 'Cause I've already had my fill of lemonade by now from over at the Doll House, and I don't think I could handle another sip of one." An eyebrow rose, as if she was studying the Wolfgang himself for a moment, or possibly even the situation itself, eyes squinting in concentration as she did so. "Or is that the secret code word that gets me the chance to sending ya dunking into some water?" The queenpin thought something along the lines had been mentioned by her husband regarding the bassist, though, majority of what he had said after Cyrek had made the declaration of what he himself planned on wearing wasn't paid full attention to, too caught up in her own daydreams of imagining exactly that picture of her husband. (Luckily for her, reality did live up to dreams there.) "I mean, no hard feelings, but I've been told I've got a mean fuckin' arm when anyone sees me throwin' darts, so I think it means I kinda gotta take that challenge on and see if the same is true when it comes to a softball and a target."

[gxldenwxlf]

Wolf's smile widened as he saw it was Stella at the bar. "Oh, c'mon, Stella. You know I love attention." His best friend's wife was as good as a best friend to him as well. He immediately started filling a glass with ice and a random dark soda. "But nah, the rodeo clown is all sorts of booze. The trick is: there's no actual recipe. It's just kind of whatever the bartender decides at the time."

He smiled and the soda across to her. There were a few soft thumps as someone tried - and failed - to hit the target and the softballs landed in the cloth backdrop. Wolf laughed and looked over at the tank. "I mean, Spike's time is ending soon. Just for you, Stella, I'd volunteer next. If you think you can actually sink me." He winked and stuck his tongue out at her for a moment. "The bell isn't anything special. It just does this." He reached over the bar to pull on the rope attached to a small bell on the ceiling. It clanged out, and a roar rose out of the crowd. "Wha - fuck you, DiMarco!" Spike called out with a laugh. A nearby server stepped up to the target and pushed it with their hand, sending the bartender splashing down into the water. He emerged with a gasp, flinging cold water out at the gathered, laughing crowd.

"So what do you say, Stella?" Wolf said as Spike reset the tank. "Think you got what it takes?"

[911onabcbts]

Oliver Stark for Folie Magazine April 2026.

[gxldenwxlf]

for: @boneyardstarters where: the cupid's arrow when: may 30th, 1997

The rodeo always brought in a huge crowd to the Cupid's Arrow. Wolfgang was celebrating his third year of working at the bar, and regulars, friends, and co-workers had all turned out to celebrate. While usually a server, floating around the bar, the owners had him stationed behind bar tonight, dishing out the signature drink - the rodeo clown - as a guest tender. Wolf had dressed the part, more or less; he was wearing his brown boots, a pair of dark blue jeans, a matching cowboy hat, and - of course - a brown leather harness across his otherwise bare chest.

The bar was packed, the music was high and energetic, and a large, muscle-bound bartender named Spike was waving from his seat in the dunk tank. Wolf looked up as another patron approached him at the bar. "Why, hello there!" he said with a bright smile. "Happy rodeo days. Can I get you anything? If you get a 'rodeo clown,' you get to ring the bell. But I won't tell you what's in the drink or what happens when you ring the bell."

[adrianxdiaz]

Adrian relaxed a little when he was assured that he was being forced and that his labor rights weren't being violated. He felt his lips peel up into a smile, the image of Wolf on his hands and knees flashing into his head. "I mean, I doubt anyone would complain if you were....on your hands and knees working.....you look like.....you look like physical labor would suit you." He felt a light blush come to his cheeks before he shook it off, watching as Wolf then proceeded to knock off his nameplate to the floor, watching as it landed at his feet.

As if on instinct, he leaned down to pick it up for him, realizing Wolf had scurried around and the two of them were now at eye level near the floor, their hands colliding into one another as they both reached for the nameplate.

"Oh uh...sorry Wolf, I just thought I was closer." Pulling his hand away, he shook it a little. "Very uhhh......realistic example though."

[gxldenwxlf]

Wolf hastily stood up, retreating back from Adrian a bit too quickly. He bashed his hip into the desk, causing both it and him to squeak a bit in pain. "I uh - what?" He blinked a few times, trying to register what Adrian had just said. Whatever it was, he was more interested in getting back behind the desk, which he did with alacrity.

"Uh, well. That's - that's that. If you need anything else," he finally hazarded a glance towards Adrian, "Just uh. Let me know. You know where to find me."

[takemyheart--pullitapart]

When he mentioned that his taxes also paid his salary, she rolled her eyes and thought to herself That's besides the point. He wasn't really wrong but still, she hated when people just ignored her snarky quips. Instead, she just said "Right..." She stood and waited as he rifled through his papers. Cooper, right? Giving a small nod, she said "Uh, yeah, Graham Cooper." As she waited, she could feel her irritation simmering as the clerk closed his eyes and tried to pick out the correct file, as if it were a game or something. God, Alvaro must've fucking known that she'd have to deal with this shit, that's probably why he sent her out here. When he celebrated picking the right folder, she tried to bite her tongue. After all, she needed something from him so she probably shouldn't be a complete bitch--at least, not until the permit was in her hand. God, happy, enthusiastic people were fucking exhausting.

When he slid the file over, she picked it up and looked it over--though it's not like she knew what she was actually looking for. When he mentioned how apparently her taxes paid her salary as well, she raised her dark eyebrows at him for a just a moment. "Lucky me," she said, her voice monotone. So if you can get Cooper to sign and return this one — Or, I guess whoever Graham is. That would probably be better. She furrowed her brow for a second before she realized what he was saying. "Graham Cooper. It's a first and last name," she said, annoyed, as if he was supposed to know who her boss was. "Stupid, though. Who has a first name for a last name? Or vice versa?"

[gxldenwxlf]

Wolf peered over the desk at the form as Dahlia corrected him. Well hot damn, she was right. A thought sprung to his head and out his mouth before he could stop it: “My last name is DiMarco. Does that count as a double first name?”

He paused to puzzle over this for a moment before remembering -- "OH!" He spun quickly in his chair and started rifling through another cabinet. "We're doing this -- well, *I'm* doing this thing --- okay, fine. I'm *trying* to get this thing started where all the nonprofits in the area come to a tabling event." He came back to Dahlia, a huge smile on his face and a hand-made flyer in hand. He slid it across the desk to her. It was crude, hand-drawn, and rather sloppy, but the details generally read as "Nonprofit tabling event! Come learn more about the great things happening in our city!" "I just think there's a lot of cool organizations around Vegas, you know? And if we could get all of them into a room here at town hall, just might help get people to see them. I dunno. Maybe it's stupid. But uh, would you take it to the museum? See if anyone from there wants to attend and promote?"

[citrus-lou]

Evan “Buck” Buckley | 9.12 “Dads And Cads”

[pt 6]

[nxnbinarydracvla]

"You're no better than my kids." And maybe the remark came across caustic, but anyone who'd known Cyrek half as long as Wolf had figured out that it was his idiosyncratic show of affection, as he picked up a napkin lying around nearby and dangled it in front of him. "Here, you look like a party clown chucked a pie on your face." Enjoying the view. Eyes cast around the record store. The decorum wasn't too shabby, but it wasn't much to look at, outside of the neon fixtures and a signed record mounted behind the cash register that commemorated his first ever anniversary with Stella, forever ago when they were shy of eighteen years old. Gaze returning to the rabbit in his own arms then, he let out a snort, trying to imagine Peter the bunny in a tutu. "You're takin' the piss now. Seems like you're enjoyin' yourself, anyway?"

[gxldenwxlf]

Wolf took the napkin from Cy with a slight furrow of his brows. He wiped at his mouth, completely missing the offending icing, and balled it in his fist before shooting it neatly into a nearby trash can. "I'm sure I've had worse on my face," he chuckled in response.

Taking a moment to lean back against the wall, he shook his head. "No, seriously. I'm just glad to be outta the town hall for a minute." He rolled his head, stretching out a stubborn knot in his neck. "Council has been riding me so fucking hard this week. Franco needs this, Adrian needs that... it's like every time I finally sit down, someone needs something new. I can't wait til we get to jam again."

[ilya-rozanova]

leg tattoos <3

[adrianxdiaz]

God....Wolf was so infuriating. The lopsided smile, the geniality, and the genuineness in his promise that it was nothing. Adrian supposed, though, it was a natural defense without him meaning it to be, cause whenever Adrian was ready to yell at him......well, you wouldn't yell at a puppy, right? And it was a similiar feeling with Wolf. When he chuckled at the comment, he could hear the tone change.....was Wolf not aware of the fact that he was very, conventionally attractive? Not Adrian's type, but....well he could get why someone would be based solely on looks. Furrowing his eyebrows at something he said in passing,

"Wait, they make you clean the office? Don't we have people for that exact thing? Why would they have a secretary who is supposed to be doing clerical work, you know, take time out of their schedule to tidy up the office? Was that in the job description when you applied for it?" Adrian really hoped that the city wasn't taking advantage of Wolf and his eagerness to please by making him do menial labor, that would fall outside of his actual position.

[gxldenwxlf]

Wolf's head instinctively tilted sideways at Adrian's sudden concern, his brows furrowing in slight confusion. "I mean... I wouldn't say they make me. And it's not like I'm on my hands and knees scrubbing the carpet or anything." He took a moment to glance around for a suitable example.

"I just mean like... say something is knocked over." He indicated the nameplate sitting atop the desk, reading Wolfgang DiMarco, Secretary. With one finger, he pushed it over. "I just don't want... that. To be like. The first thing someone sees, you know?" He reached forward to right the nameplate, but bungled the attempt and ended up pushing it fully off his desk so that it plopped onto the floor at Adrian's feet. A mix of extreme embarrassment and slight terror flashed across his face.

"Ah, shit..." he muttered, quickly springing from his chair. "Just let me- uh - sorry -" Wolf scurried around the desk and dove to retrieve the fallen item.

[devilsons]

Nothing's ever simple around this fucking place, the incompetence and lack of drive humming its way through the very halls. It all comes to a head with the secretary that he honestly can't believe still has a job here, can't seem to retain a single thing in that dense head of his, asks too many questions has far too few answers. Franco left for lunch, dropped off a document he needs signed by an inspector, something that really should only take about twenty minutes maximum, and came back an hour later to meet a hopelessly blank stare.

His gaze doesn't falter, permanently too intense, even more so when he's a little pissed off which he decidedly is now. He sort of just stares at him for a moment, a ringed finger tapping once on his desk. "I never give you anything more complicated than a very basic conversation." He says it with something like a bored deadpan, not looking for any excuses or reasons, just the usual disdainful disappointment he feels every time he has to ask this guy for anything. "It's fine, I'll give it to my assistant. I should've just started there anyways." He says in a way that implies he shouldn't expected so much from the secretary. He reaches out, a cue to just hand the form back unsigned and call the conversation a wash.

[gxldenwxlf]

Councilmember Vitelli was - and always had been - something of a whirlwind. To the outside eye, he might have seemed easy to predict, but anyone within his sphere of influence knew much better than that. Wolf’s entire posture shifted when he realized who he was talking to. Wolf didn’t notice the shift himself - but he did notice the slight break in his own voice as he tried to reply.

“Oh, uh - yeah, of course.” He swallowed hard and began shuffling through the various papers and files on his desk. “I uh, called over. To the inspector’s office. Brad wasn’t in. Like, they said he was out of office for the next few days.” Wolf’s gaze turned upwards, his eyes big with anticipation. He made a mental note to check whether Brad was or was not the particular inspector Franco had been looking for. “Uh, sorry about that.”

[buckaroo627]

Oliver Stark IG Story: cowboy oli

----------

🤠

[buddieloustat]

Buck + the chin thing

[bloodyglcry]

CLAUDIA KNEW SHE NEEDED TO FIND HERSELF A PERSONAL ASSISTANT. Her last one had left for maternity leave, and she had thought she could hold out until the girl came back to work. After only a few days, she learned that this wasn't the case. She didn't have the patience for the tedious tasks that the secretaries and assistants often handled, and her only choice was to outsource some of the requests to the workers found within city hall. Of course, when the recipient of the request is none other than WOLFGANG DIMARCO, there's a low expectation for success.

She already felt a headache forming as the man spoke. She often questioned how the man got a job in city hall in the first place, but she knew not to voice those concerns until she knew for sure he didn't have any connections she could use in her quest for power. Instead, she greeted him with a tight-lipped smile as he asked her what exactly she had requested of him.

"I sent you the city hall agenda this morning. You were supposed to print out enough copies for all of the council members." Emphasis on supposed to, as she suspected he hadn't even read the email yet. She rubbed the brink of her nose before glancing at her watch, "And the meeting is in... 15 minutes. If you didn't print out the sheets, I suggest you do so now."

[gxldenwxlf]

Wolf felt his shoulders wilt long before he realized why as Claudia entered. There was something so commanding about her that his brain literally couldn't process; instead, his form shrunk in instinctive deference. "Councilmember Crane," he said, a slight break in his voice immediately evident. His eyes deferred down and away, falling on the computer in front of him. "Oh - uh. Yeah. Yes. Sorry. Of course." He wheeled to the keyboard and started hammering at the keys. Unfortunately, he had forgotten which piece of punctuation currently sat at the end of his password, and each attempt pulled a nervous chuckle out of his mouth.

He hazarded a glance up at the woman and immediately regretted it; the face of perfect composure belied something beneath, even if Wolf couldn't put his finger on it. He poked out another attempt (this time, an ampersand) and the computer mercifully let him in - and sure enough, there were the forms, ready to print. He hastily hit the button, and as the printer whirred to life behind him, Wolf finally found his strength.

"Nice outside, huh?" He offered. He winced internally at the lame attempt at small talk, but it was all he could muster at the moment. His eyes glanced sideways at the sticky note on his desk where he had been scribbling the points. Trying to remain inconspicuous, he edged a spare file folder over in an attempt to cover it.