#iggy plays and you cannot change my mind

[copper-wasp]

Ignis Scientia x Reader: Kisses (Part 5/?)

From an ongoing series of short one-shots regarding kissing our favorite pretty boy quartet.

Also posted to AO3

Rated: T

Words: 1919

You were late. Very late.

Late for the bus home and your stepmom was going to kill you if she had to come pick you up again this week.

The door to the bus loading area was in sight, and you pushed open the door to find... that your bus had left already.

“Son of a...” you swore, dropping your bag at your feet. “Shit! If only I had my own car, I wouldn’t have to deal with this crap!” You groaned, bending down to pick up your bag. You walked back inside the school, heading to the main entrance to call your stepmom, mentally preparing yourself to be chewed out.

Pulling your phone out of your pocket, you scrolled to her phone number, thumb hovering over her contact to call her as you walked past the music room. You tapped on her number, hearing the phone ring on the other end as you stepped past the door. You quickly backed up though, stopping at the slightly ajar door and turning your head as you heard the piano being played. You quickly canceled the call and slid your phone back into your pocket. Slowly, you moved your head to the small rectangular window in the door, just letting one eye peek into the room.

It was a boy from your English class, Ignis, seated behind the piano, fingers tracing over the keys. You didn’t know much about him, but he’d help you get oriented if you started daydreaming during class, always telling you which page number you were on in whatever dry, old book the class was reading. You sat with him at lunch sometimes too, whenever you couldn’t hide in the art room. He always had some immaculately prepared meal, and you were severely jealous, as food was one of the great loves of your life.

I didn’t know he played the piano, you thought to yourself, moving your head to the crack in the door to hear what he was playing unobstructed. The song was vaguely familiar to you, also very beautiful, and you pushed open the door just a bit more, sticking your head fully into the room. Luckily the piano was situated so that you were watching him from the side, and he’d only be able to see you if he looked over to his left. You smiled to yourself as you watched him play, completely engrossed. He made it look effortless, his slender fingers dancing over the keys. You quietly moved yourself completely into the room, sitting down silently on a stool by the door.

You were completely enthralled, and you rested your chin on your hand, not taking your eyes off of him, until your phone rang, loudly, in your pocket, OutKast’s “Ms. Jackson” quickly overpowering Ignis’s skillful playing.

“I’M SORRY MISS JACKSON - OOH - I AM FOR REEEEEEEAL.... NEVER MEANT TO MAKE YOUR DAUGHTER CRY, I APOLOGIZE A TRILLION TIMES....” sang André 3000 as you scrambled to extract your phone from your pocket, finally silencing it. You looked up guiltily at Ignis, who was very amused.

“I’m so, so sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you, I was just walking by and I heard you playing and I thought I’d just sneak out when you were done and I guess that was my stepmom calling me back because I missed my bus and I need a ride home and-“

“It’s all right,” he interrupted your ranting, giving you a smile. Your phone vibrated again, and you looked at the screen to see it was your stepmom calling you back. Giving Ignis a withering look, you stepped out into the hallway, and answered the call, the chewing out immediately beginning.

When you crept back into the music room, Ignis was just letting his hands flit over the keys, a natural melody forming. He glanced over at you when he heard the door open again, and you grabbed your bag, ready to walk home, as your stepmom was not willing to come get your for the second day in a row.

“Everything okay?” he asked, pulling out another booklet of sheet music from his backpack on the floor.

“Fine, yeah. I just have to walk home because my stepmom won’t come get me. Because I’m apparently very irresponsible,” you said, rolling your eyes, very salty about the whole thing.

“I can drive you home,” he offered, flexing his fingers before setting them back on the keys.

“Wait...really?” you asked, pulling the second strap of your backpack on.

“Sure. I’d like to practice for a bit longer though, if you don’t mind waiting.”

“No, no, of course I don’t mind. That would be great, thank you so much,” you said, shrugging out of your backpack. You sat at one of the free chairs near the piano, dragging your heavy backpack behind you. “That’s really nice of you to offer, Ignis. I was really not looking forward to walking home in these shoes,” you commented, wagging your feet, clad in a pair of wedge sandals.

His eyes flicked to your shoes before he chuckled, focusing his attention back on the piano.

“Can I ask what you were playing before OutKast ruined it?”

He smiled again, meeting your eyes over the rim of his glasses. “It was Chopin’s Nocturne No. 2.”

“It...uh, sounded really good,” you replied lamely, crossing your legs.

“Thank you. I hit a lot of sour notes though, some of the trills are difficult to nail.”

“I didn’t notice,” you said with a giggle, “but I am just uncultured swine.”

“I saw you reading Siddhartha the other day in English class after the test, believe me, uncultured people don’t read Hermann Hesse,” he said, and you flushed just a little.

“Well, don’t let me keep you from practicing. My phone is on silent,” you deflected.

He nodded, and immediately began playing again. This one you knew very well, Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata. He stopped and started up again a few times, making sure he got each part just right. You leaned back in your chair, letting your eyes flutter shut as he played the first movement a few times.

You didn't know how much time had passed when you heard the thunk of the fall as it covered the keys. You opened your eyes to look at Ignis, who was packing away his music. "Ready to go?" he asked, zipping up his backpack.

"Sure. Thank you again for offering to drive me home. And for letting me listen to you play. It was...wonderful," you replied, standing up and gathering your things.

"You are very welcome," he said, gesturing towards the door.

You started "missing" the bus conveniently on Mondays and Wednesdays when Ignis would stay after school to practice. He picked up pretty quickly that you were doing it on purpose, but said that he was glad for the company, and he would gladly drive you home. You, on the other hand, picked up pretty quickly that you liked him; more than just a casual acquaintance or someone you sat next to in class.

You were in your usual seat in the music room as he played Für Elise, and your eyes were glued to him. Not to his hands, but to his face, watching his expressions change as he lovingly stroked the keys, seeing his tongue dart out to moisten his bottom lip as he would go through one of the more difficult sections. You couldn't keep the smile off of your face as you looked at him, saw his passion and dedication with each note he played.

Taking a break after playing for a while, he glanced over at you. "I never asked, do you play at all? Since you seem to enjoy listening to the piano so much."

You looked at him for a moment, before a small smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. "Well, of course I do, Iggy." You stood quickly, smoothing your dress down and marching over to the bench. Motioning for him to scoot over, you sat next to him, clearing your throat and dramatically stretching your arms over your head.

You proceeded to pound out the jankiest version of chopsticks that you could, hearing Ignis burst out laughing on the bench next to you. You soon joined him, leaning against his shoulder. "I told you I could play," you said after getting your giggles under control.

"That was the most perfect rendition of chopsticks I have ever heard," he said, stifling another laugh. You moved to stand, but felt his hand on your wrist. You looked over at him, with an eyebrow raised. "You can sit here... er... if you want," he said quietly, and you were sure it was the first time you'd ever heard him sound nervous, ever.

"Okay, but won't I be in your way?"

He shook his head, moving to hover his hands over the keys once again. He started at the beginning of Für Elise, and you were even more enraptured watching his fingers delicately work, now that you were infinitely closer than before. Whenever he would have to reach towards the right hand side, his forearm would gently brush against you, but it didn't seem to throw off his rhythm. Your eyes traced up and down each finger, moving up to his wrist, then his forearm and bicep, and on to his neck. You licked your lips, eyes pinned on his, parted a little as he played.

You turned towards him on the bench, raising your hand up to place it on his cheek, turning his face to yours. His hands slipped a little on the piano as he met your eyes, a little confusion reflecting in his very green ones. You surged forward, pressing your lips against his, and you heard a discordant thonk as his hands pressed down on the keys. He didn't kiss you back at first, but after just a moment, you felt him place his hands gingerly on your neck, his lips applying more pressure to yours. It was a nervous first kiss, your heart racing and breaths coming hard and fast, but you were glad that you had the courage to initiate.

You broke apart for a breath, but were surprised when Iggy's mouth chased after yours, kissing you more fervently than before. His lips were soft and warm, and so were his hands, still on your neck. You draped your hands over his shoulders, rubbing your fingers on the soft fabric of his shirt. When you broke apart again, you could see his cheeks were bright red, and you were sure yours were too. He smiled at you, leaning in once more to place a soft kiss on your cheek.

"I'm not even remotely complaining, but can I ask why...you just...?" he asked, searching your face.

You bit your lip. "Because... I like you. It felt like the right moment... I guess?" you replied, nervously wringing your hands and looking down at your lap.

He tilted your chin up with a finger, leaning in again to capture your lips in another gentle kiss. "I like you too," he said, grabbing your hand and running his thumb over your knuckles.

You tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear, looking in his eyes again. "Okay, Mozart, will you play for me some more?" you asked, trying to break the awkward tension a little.

"Only if I can kiss you again when I'm done?"

You smiled at him. "Of course you can."

Thank you for reading!!

The songs played are: Nocturne Op 9 No. 2 composed by Frédéric Chopin Moonlight Sonata (1st Movement) composed by Ludwig van Beethoven Für Elise composed by Ludwig van Beethoven

Ms. Jackson composed by André Benjamin, Antwan Patton, David Sheats, Richard Wagner, Stan Watts & Shuggie Otis

Find me on:

AO3: copper_wasp

Twitter: copper_wasp_

[secret-engima]

Tomorrow is looking up to be - absolutely terrible. Can I beg you for some RWBY or FFXV snippets, please?

Of course! I know it is the "tomorrow" you speak of but lemme see what I can dig up-

Team Gremlin:

There was silence for a long, long time. Nothing but Ruby’s sobbing and Yang’s pounding heart and the fear that pressed down on them from all around. Formless, but not nameless. Then she heard the stairs creak and for one moment Yang was sure that “Salem” was coming upstairs to get Ruby.

But then the door opened and Yang saw Dad’s boots, “Girls? It’s okay. Come on out.” Yang didn’t move, Ruby just sobbed a little louder and clung tighter to her. Dad sighed and bent down to peer at them, “You heard all that didn’t you.” He looked … not mad, but stressed. Maybe scared, and that made the fear worse for Yang. Yang clung to Ruby, her precious baby sister with silver eyes that no monster should be able to get to, and nodded. Dad’s face pinched, then he gave a smile that even she could tell was fake, “Come on out, girls. It’s okay. I promise. That was all just- that was adult talk okay? You don’t need to worry about that until you’re older-.”

“Ruby’s eyes,” Yang bit out, “R-ruby has Mom’s e-eyes.”

“It’s okay, Yang, Ruby, I promise. We’ll take care of it-.”

A creak of wood behind Dad and he frowned before straightening up and turning to face whoever was there, “I’ll be down in a minute, just let me-.”

“Taiyang,” Professor Ozpin sounded weirdly calm, more calm than Dad did, “may I speak to them?”

“…I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

A sigh, “I am well aware of your opinion on this matter, Taiyang, and I respect it. But they have already heard enough to be terrified. Telling them to forget it now is not only impossible but potentially worse than talking to them. You made your stance on this matter very clear, but that does not apply to your children if it will put them in danger.” Professor Ozpin’s voice softened, “Either I speak with them or Qrow does, but please. Let one of us help.”

Dad didn’t move for a long time, then his boots made for the door, “Fine. But don’t drag them into this more than you have to.” A deep breath, “Girls? I’m going downstairs to check on your mother, if you need anything, just shout, okay? Professor Ozpin is going to talk to you for a little bit. He’ll be very nice.” The last bit was said in the same voice he used when warning Zwei not to dig holes in the yard.

Dad’s boots disappeared and fancy black shoes came closer. There was a pause, then, “Would you prefer to stay under the bed?” Ruby whined and Yang glared without a word. She didn’t know what was going on, but Dad seemed mad at Professor Ozpin and everything was scary and so yes, she wanted to stay under the bed. The tip of his fancy cane tapped the floorboards a few times, then there was a hiss and a whirr of gears like from her parents’ gear and the tip disappeared. With a grunt, he knelt down and then lay down on his stomach like even Mom rarely did. He pillowed his chin on his crossed arms and it was so strange seeing a fancy, famous person lying on his belly on the floor of Ruby’s room that Yang snorted despite herself.

Professor Ozpin’s face crinkled into a faint smile and it looked real and warm, “Hello there. You must be Yang and Ruby. I am Professor Ozpin, I’m a friend of your uncle and your mother. Can I safely assume you heard the most important parts of that conversation? The Grimm and the silver eyes and,” the briefest hesitation, “Salem?”

Ruby finally pulled her face away from Yang’s shoulder to whimper, “I-is she gonna take Mom away and m-make her a Grimm? Is she gonna t-take me?”

“Ah. You have silver eyes,” Professor Ozpin murmured, then his face fell back into that faint, warm smile, “Your mother is alright now, and now that we know what is going on, we will be much more careful. I promise, I will do everything in my power to keep your mother and you safe. But to do that … I would like to tell you a story, and you must both promise me to never tell it to anyone. For the safety of you and your mother.” They nodded, hesitantly, even though Yang certainly didn’t want to hear anymore scary things today. But if it would help keep Ruby and Mom safe-.

Professor Ozpin’s smile faded, but his eyes were still warm, “Once upon a time,” he began, and they listened intently as the man with white hair slowly outlined a story that sounded right out of a fairy tail.

...

Always I Dreamed verse:

Summer had no idea what Professor Ozpin had been thinking, making her the leader of Team STRQ. Then again, the only other real option would have been Taiyang, and as much as she enjoyed his company and was coming to think of him as a good friend and teammate, he wouldn’t have been able to handle the Branwen twins.

Not that Summer was much better at handling the Branwen twins.

They hadn’t done anything to get the team in trouble, but she didn’t know how to deal with them. Taiyang made sense, even if he had a few oddly adorable hangups on things like “modesty” —they were two guys and two girls living in the same room, she didn’t really see what modesty had to do with anything when they weren’t out in public—. Taiyang understood her when she tried to … bond with the team, tried to get them to be more than just four strangers living under the same roof and tackling the same assignments in class. Raven and Qrow on the other hand…

Every time she suggested a group activity, they watched her like she was going to bite. Like they couldn’t fathom the point of learning more about or bonding with anyone outside themselves. Taiyang had suggested it was an out of kingdom thing, but Summer had lived outside the kingdoms until five years ago, and she had never acted like that. Her family hadn’t either. That feral behavior, wary distrust and eerie staring in the middle of the night like even the room wasn’t safe to sleep in without a watch wasn’t anything like what Summer and her family or neighbors had grown up with. The only ones who had acted even similar had been-.

Oh.

Now that’s an idea.

...

Blood of My Blood verse:

The next one was a whole month after Grandma Crepera had first appeared and only a week after the scary man with the mace, but three times was enough for Dionysus to be able to immediately tell what was happening when he blinked his way to awareness in a dream. He looked around uneasily, afraid of being yelled at by someone again, but … there was no one scary nearby. He was in a small little building inside a big, unfamiliar garden. The building was just a roof and little pillars holding it up and a stone floor to stand on with a little table inside and-.

A woman.

She was sitting at the table, working on something, but instead of it being paperwork like Grandpa or taking care of a sword like Uncle Cor, she was … spinning mud? She was making mud spin and pulling at it with her hands, changing its shape with her fingers, and Dionysus hadn’t realized he’d drifted into the gazebo to watch her in awe until she glanced up from her work and smiled at him. She went back to watching her mud, and when she spoke, her voice wasn’t echoing and scary, “Hello. Would you like to join me? I have enough for both of us to use if you like.”

Dionysus watched the spinning-spinning-spinning in awe, but shook his head and tucked his hands behind his back, “Iggy says I can’t play in the mud cause I’ll get dirty an’ it’s unb- unbe- bad for a prince.” He blinked up at her, “How come you’re playing in the mud? Iggy says old people don’ like mud.”

The spinning slowed to a stop as she stared at him and he wondered if she was going to get mad. But then she started laughing, an old, deep sound that felt nice, all the way to his bones, “This is not mud, Cheeky Prince, this is clay. People use it to make things like mugs and teapots and vases. Come, come sit and I will show you how.” She waved her muddy hand and set down a chair next to hers in a flash of magical rosy-blue sparks. So she was family, just like the last ones had been. Dionysus hadn’t known he had so much family before. Then again, he was pretty sure they were all dead, and that’s why they were talking to him in dreams rather than when he was awake —and a part of him wondered if that should scare him, but it didn’t, so as long as they didn’t act scary, he didn’t bother trying—.

Dionysus climbed onto the chair and watched her in curiosity. It still looked a lot like mud to him, but it was a different color from mud, so he supposed it could be something else. The woman was spinning her clay again, fingers deftly shaping and pinching and rubbing, “My name is Nyssia, though some once called me the Just.”

Dionysus thought of the Hall of Arts and all the pictures and statues in it, including some of Grandma Crepera, and wondered if she was one of the pictures in the Hall, “Just like Grandma Crepera?”

An amused twitch of her lips, “Yes, I am like Crepera. We are both related to you, but we are older than King Regis.”

He tilted his head, partially mesmerized by what she was doing with the spinning clay, but curious despite himself about other things. She was like Grandma Crepera and the others, but she hadn’t used a scary voice at all, “How come?”

She hummed without looking away from her work, “How come what, Cheeky Prince? I cannot read your mind.”

Dionysus pouted at her, because wasn’t it obvious what he was asking? But then he said, “You don’ have a scary voice like they do.”

Now she did glance up at him with a look like Grandpa had when he said something silly, “Oh, don’t I?” Dionysus jolted in his seat, startled, but not … scared. Her voice had echoed just now, deep and layered like when Grandma Crepera or Leon had spoken, but it didn’t make him feel like he needed to go hide. It reminded him oddly of the big, booming bells that hung from old church in his favorite movie, loud but mellow. He kind of liked it, but he was still glad when her voice went back to normal as she shrugged, “I merely thought you would not like it if I used that voice. So I did not.”

[sakuramidnight15]

-TW OC Information-

(Note: Okay I changed her hair color because her previous one matches to Nerine's hair color, and also yes I changed her eye color as well too. Please understand this.)

__________________________________

Character Bio

Name: Marleigh Gonzales

(Japanese: マーリーゴンザレス)

Romaji: Mārī Gonzaresu

Qoute: "My~ Aren't you a cutie pie~ It's best to get back to work young one."

V/A: Yukari Tamura (Japanese)

Gender: Female

Age: 20

Birthday: January 19

Star Sign: Capricorn

Eye Color: Lotus (Her Normal Eye Color)

Frost White (Second Eye Color and Half-Myth power activation)

Hair Color: Lagoon Breeze

Height: 193 cm

Race: Half Human, Half Myth/Hybrid

Species: Banshee

Homeland: Summerville (The second country in the Island of Enchantment)

Family: Marlon Collymore (Father)

Sienna Gonzales (Mother)

Harlow Collymore (Younger Twin Sister)

Selma Gonzales (Older Brother)

Iggy Mintz (Soon to be brother-in-law)

__________________________________

School Status and Fun Fact

Dorm: Ramshackle

School Year: Third

Class: 3-A (Same Class with Quinn)

Student no. 3 (A transferred student)

Occupation: Student

Part-time Model and Waitress

Head Captain of the Scientist Rank of the SIDC (Meaning: Supernaturals Investigation Department Center)

Club: N/A

Best Subject: Literature, Potions and P.E.

Dominant Hand: Left (Secretly an Ambidextrous)

Favorite Color: Teal and Lavender

Favorite Food: Crab Soup and Sea Food

Least Favorite Food: Carrots and Fried Steak

Likes: Investigations, Science-like Experiments, Her Younger Twin Sister, Hard-Work, Ice-Tea Drinks, Friendly Conversations,

Dislikes: Potions Explosions, Greed, Laziness, Sexual Assaults, Insults, 

Hobbies: Taking her job as the head captain of the scientist rank seriously, making potions experiments, sewing, skills as a waitress, playing poker,

Talents: Transforming to her half-myth form, Teleportation, Levitation, Third-Eye, Mind-Reading, Voice Hypnotism, Skilled Potion Making,

Nicknames: Mary or Mari (From her family and friends)

Marleigh-senpai or Gonzales-senpai (From the freshmen students and mostly for Lynn and her friends)

Mrs. Gonzales (From the SIDC workers and trainers)

Captain Gonzales (From the SIDC trainers and workers in the Scientist Rank)

Nee-san or Marie (From her younger twin sister)

Mar-mar (From her older brother)

Ghostie (From Leona)

Banshee-chan (From Floyd, he says he doesn't know what to call her as well)

Mme Scientifique ("Meaning: Mrs Scientific" From Rook)

Other Nicknames:

N/A

__________________________________

Appearance and Personality

Appearance: Marleigh has a tall and slender female body build, when standing up it looks a little curvy. She has long and wavy lagoon breeze hair which she ties it into a single braid and it reaches to her waist. She has lotus colored eyes which they can turn into frost white when using her half-myth abilities. Marleigh is pretty attractive but she's pretty sassy and cold.

Personality: Marleigh is the second child first daughter in the family. Marleigh is the older twin from her younger twin sister Harlow, who is her identical twin but has an opposite personality from sister.

Her family runs a historical and modern clothing line business in the busiest streets of Summerville. Which the heir to the business hasn't been decided yet.

She's pretty sassy, a bit harsh, bold and somewhat sarcastic but is a strong and independent woman who shows no mercy and also reminds people to know their place. Marleigh knows her style and definitely shows no mercy thanks to her appearance. She seems pretty cold to o at first glance as well.

Despite through that, she's also pretty sweet and also has a calm type aura when interacting with someone new or not. Marleigh has a creative type brain which it cannot to be stopped at all cost, perhaps one reason why she loves sewing clothes. If you ask her help to be a little stylish, then you came to the right person folks.

Can be a wife-material if you get close to her, she's pretty affectionate, kind and pretty doting.

Like Quinn, she too is a head captain of the scientist rank of the SIDC company. Unlike Quinn who is serious and harsh towards investigation work in his rank, Marleigh is the same but not too harsh though and goes pretty easy on her trainers and workers but does not accept laziness and slack off though. The punishment is someone becoming her ginnie pig for her next potion, which no one likes it.

A ghost myth like her is something not to be messed with. Just like her main personality, she shows no mercy if something goes wrong. Marleigh goes from sweetness to bitterness and will backlash or whip you eventually. You won't be escaping her clutches for the time being.

To think that a stylish ghost can be pretty mean, but hey, that's always Marleigh alright?

__________________________________

Trivia

-The name 'Marleigh' In English Baby Names the meaning of the name Marleigh is: Marshy meadow. Also Woman from Magdala. While her surname 'Gonzales' is the mountainous borders of Spain contain the origins of the prestigious surname Gonzales. ... The surname Gonzales is made up of two elements: "Gonzalo," a personal name thought to be derived from the Visigothic "Gundesaelf," meaning "battle elf," and "-ez," the Spanish patronymic suffix.

-Like Nerine, Hibiki, Noelle and Quinn. Marleigh is based on the 'Goddess' (From the World's Finest Assassin) and 'Ezra' (From Fairytale), so the creator made a mix for her.

-Dreams of becoming a fashion designer one day but has no plans of becoming a heir though and wants to run her own business.

-She has a fear Trypophobia, fear of holes. Has gained it since she was a teenager. It scares the living daylight out of her.

-Marleigh often praises Sylvie and Arianna for their talents of making home-made gems and also custom made perfumes.

-She and Quinn are drinking buddies when they are at the club at night and they often play poker card with no bets.

-Her younger twin sister was involved with sexual assaults, until one night Marleigh took her sister's place so that she would be safe but got knocked out with a serious head injury while struggling to escape. The culprit was arrested while Marleigh received a five day hospitalization, her younger twin sister Harlow, feels pretty guilty about it.

-She's often seen with Lynette in the halls of the school, chatting with her alongside with Quinn, Kiara and Amelia.

-Her voice sounds pretty feminine and lady-like but the tone changes when getting serious, which is why I chose Yukari Tamura who is the voice actor of the goddess in the anime named 'The World's Finest Assassin', to be her voice actor.

-Like Saburou, she too is a cat lover.

-Iggy is her younger twin sister's fiance. Who is a shy boy and has a big love for photography.

[costellos]

HI i LOVE ur "____ realizing they fell in love" series thing AND idk if you've done stardust crusaders but if you haven't i'd love to request that pretty pls luv u Aaa c:

I haven’t done the Crusaders yet!! today is your lucky day. 🥰 ty for supporting this series and I hope you enjoy this one!

BUCCI GANG | LA SQUADRA

tw: general violence, stabbing

❥ ┋ ❝ stardust crusaders realizing that they’re in love!

joseph joestar.

Joseph falls in love with you after you put yourself in danger.

the first thing you need to know about Joseph Joestar is that there’s always something up his sleeve. the second, that he prizes his family above all else. only one of those applied when you sacrificed yourself for his sake.

it happens during a stand battle. Hermit Purple is more of a defensive stand, with its ability to disarm and capture enemies. your stand works best offensively. as such, you make quite the pair when you encounter two of DIO’s subordinates in India.

but while Joseph was distracted, using Hermit Purple to wrap one of the goons in its violet vines, the other came barreling behind Joseph. he sees a glint in the henchwoman’s eyes, a look that tells him that she’s ready to kill. he knows you see it too. and that’s why he’s crying at you to get away.

it only took a moment. yet in that moment did you save Joseph, push the henchwoman back, and find a kukri in your side. it’s the one time that Joseph didn’t have anything up his sleeve, and one of many that he could feel his heart drop.

you didn’t have to defend him. he had already lived his life, and at that point, he had accepted he could die at any moment. he knew exactly what he was getting into when it came to DIO. and he was starting to wish that he hadn’t gotten you involved, too.

he knocks both of the goons out, leaving them in the alley. you’re not quite sure what happens next. all you can feel is Joseph holding you in his arms, frantically looking for help in the streets of Kolkata. he’s screaming. crying maybe? you lose consciousness soon after.

Joseph would visit you in your hospital room once you came to. he makes quite the scene, pushing doctors aside and slamming your door open. at first glance you think that he's mad, with his gritted teeth and clasped fists. he stops for a moment, studying your face. and it’s here that you realize he isn’t mad — no, his face quickly melts to concern, his lip quivering as he wraps you into a tight hug. ↳ “come here.” his voice is shaky. he sounds breathless, as if he ran here as soon as he got word that you woke up. “what the hell were you thinking? don’t go throwing yourself at anyone for my sake! you talk to me in battle, okay?”  alright, maybe he’s a little mad. he’s trying to say his words as gently as he can, though. “we need you, [Name].” and it’s true: the team does need you. but he of all people needs you most. he’s already losing one child. he can’t bear the thought of losing another.

muhammad avdol.

Avdol falls in love with you when he sees how patient you are.

he's a mentor above all else. Avdol’s career depends on guiding others to their destinies, leading them to something that he cannot posses. he’s never particularly minded. like all things, he just thinks that is his own destiny. he knows that fate can’t be changed.

it’s part of the reason why Avdol’s given up on Iggy. the dog is hopeless, fighting for his own wants and needs. he doesn’t care about the team or DIO or why he’s in Egypt. hence, aside from giving him coffee gum when Avdol needs him, the fortune teller leaves him alone.

then he sees you interacting with Iggy. “it’s hopeless,” Avdol tells you. but you look up at him and shake your head, asking him to just give you some time. Iggy will come around, you promise.

Avdol chuckles. “if you say so.”

despite his doubts, he keeps a close eye on you. you keep at it. you’re trying to get the dog’s trust, offering pets and belly rubs during moments of peace. Iggy seems disinterested.

in time, Avdol watches as you realize that Iggy hates being treated like a dog. you share your food with him and talk with him, even if he can’t understand what you have to say. one day, while driving through Egypt, Avdol peers into the rear view mirror and sees you asleep with Iggy on your lap.

the Boston terrier follows you everywhere now. he trots beside you and barks at whoever gets too close to you (much to Polnareff’s chagrin). Avdol can’t help but find this amusing.

well he’d be damned. you really did it. Avdol always thought of him as a good judge of character, and you proved him wrong. not that he minds; Iggy’s cooperation will make this mission much less difficult. it’s just that your unyielding patience and dedication is... well. it’s quite nice with all the other interesting characters on this trip.

Avdol approaches you while you’re reading in the hotel lobby. as always, Iggy is at your feet. he’s fast asleep, thankfully. the fortune teller tries to be quiet so as not to wake him. ↳ “I apologize.” he takes the armchair across from yours, resting his cheek on his fist, an amused smile on his lips. “you’re a lot more patient than I gave you credit for.” maybe Avdol had unknowingly guided you to Iggy. maybe it was fate that Iggy would be brought here, only to be loved by you. “I admire that of you. though I suppose there’s a lot I admire about you, hm?” fate can’t be changed. he knew that. but maybe it was fate that like Iggy, Avdol was brought here to be with you.

jotaro kujo.

Jotaro falls in love with you after you call him out.

he hates showing his true colors. that kind of vulnerability is something that he’s never gotten accustomed to, nor does he think that he ever will. it’s part of the reason why he dislikes displaying more emotion than what’s necessary. a slight twinge of his lip or brow can show enough of what he’s thinking. any more than that is a waste of energy. they get the gist, he tells himself.

you proved him wrong when you lost a game of checkers. it’s a humid day in Cairo and during a rare moment of peace, you and Jotaro opt to play a friendly game of checkers with some locals. though the word “friendly” is subjective. if either of you won, 2500 Egyptian pounds would be yours.

it’s your turn. the game is a close call. although it can be over within the next two turns, you can’t tell what your opponent’s next move would be. thankfully, Jotaro is standing behind him, giving you cues for your next move.

...yet because you misunderstand his cue, you watch as you promptly lose any pieces that you had left. your opponent takes your pieces and the 2500 Egyptian pounds with it.

“what the hell was that?” Jotaro is angry. you are too. after losing the game, you collected your things and began to head back to the hotel, with Jotaro at your heels. “I was nodding my head! that was your cue to move left.” 

you stop in your tracks. “that wasn’t you nodding! you just moved your head down! how was I supposed to know?”

he clicks his tongue in response. a beat, and then finally, “you’re really damn annoying, you know that?” 

“yeah, and you’re an asshole.”

Jotaro’s been called many things. sweetie, honey, the hottest guy at school, but asshole? that’s a first. while he won’t admit it, the name stings. it sounds foreign coming from you. he didn’t think he had upset you that much.

he lets the day pass, partly for you, mostly for him. he needs to gather his thoughts. it’s the first time anyone had called him out for his behavior. moreover, Jotaro hates the fact that you may know him better than he does himself. what else do you know about him? did you know that you could upset him this much? ...when did you start to occupy this much space in his head?

so at sundown the next day, you get a knock on your hotel room from Jotaro Kujo himself. you try to close it, but he sticks his foot between the door and the frame before you can. ↳ “look, I’m sorry, alright?” he’s refusing to look at you. “I just... really wanted to win. I pushed that on you. and...” he sighs. "I’m sorry.” he’s apologizing through gritted teeth, yet apologizing nonetheless. it’s the right thing to do and he doesn’t want to lose a friend to his pride. especially one who calls him out on his bullshit. despite everything, you just smile and unfold your arms, telling him that you forgive him. and for a brief moment, he feels a weight lift off his shoulders. although Jotaro Kujo hates being vulnerable, he would hate losing you more.

noriaki kakyoin.

Kakyoin falls in love with you while eating breakfast together.

he’s never had any real friends. any attempts to share facts about himself, whether about his stand or his interests, would be met with scorn. it wasn’t until he had breakfast with you — one tiny moment in a trip filled with wacky happenings — that led him to believe that maybe the world wasn’t so lonely.

it’s 7 AM. normally at this time Mr. Joestar and Avdol are off running errands or planning something privately. Kakyoin turns beside him to find Jotaro and Polnareff fast asleep. he wonders where you’d be at this hour, yet when he enters the dining room, he quickly finds the answer to his question.

"good morning,” he says, taking the seat from across you. his voice is gentle though far more awake than you’d expect for seven in the morning. you greet him as enthusiastically as you can muster, flashing a toothy grin. but upon realizing that you were still chewing your food, you quickly turn away and wave your hand, apologizing for the scene. Kakyoin laughs in return.

the conversation itself is rather tame. you ask about his life, what Japan is like, if he misses his parents. Kakyoin answers all of this truthfully, because... well. no one else has ever taken the time to ask. it feels odd to be interviewed. though not uncomfortable.

and you take genuine interest in what he has to say, too. you ask follow up questions and give real, emotional responses. while you sympathize with him, you don’t pretend to know what he’s gone through.

you didn’t have to engage with him. sure, you’re the only ones awake right now, but he didn’t expect you to be so real with him. Polnareff never takes anything Kakyoin says seriously. Jotaro doesn’t even pretend to care. Mr. Joestar and Avdol have their own things to worry about. it feels... nice to be considered.

needless to say, Kakyoin feels his heart sink when the others wake up. is that too selfish? should he be disappointed in himself for wanting to spend more time with you?

yet even with them there, with Polnareff hogging the conversation and Jotaro being his usual cool self, you try to keep Kakyoin involved. you refuse to let him fade in the background.

he stops you as everyone starts to clean up and go on with their days. ↳ “we should do this more often.” he’s trying to keep it casual. “ah, if you’re up this early again, I mean. I really enjoyed our conversation. it’s a lot more productive when Polnareff’s not awake.” now it’s your turn to laugh in response. you agree, saying that you enjoyed your time with him, too. at this, Kakyoin could feel his cheeks start to burn. right here, right at this moment with you, did Noriaki Kakyoin feel that he wasn’t so alone. 

jean pierre polnareff.

Polnareff falls in love with you when he hears you humming to yourself.

although he would never admit it, he’s lost. what he’s looking for he’s not quite sure. vengeance? honor? it’s something he’s constantly asking himself. behind those dumb jokes and loud laughs is someone who just wants to find himself.

to be honest, he’s always fancied you. it was pretty obvious from the start. the way he looked at you, how his hands were always at your hip, guiding you away from the others. he just thought it was another crush until he heard you humming to yourself.

it’s such a simple happenstance. he didn’t mean to walk in on you. yet there you are, standing on the roof of their hotel, hanging everyone’s laundry to dry. you look so at peace here, with your eyelids low and your fingers at work with one of Polnareff’s shirts. you’re handling it so gently despite it not being your own laundry.

it’s in that moment that he realizes what he wants to do. Sherry’s murderer is dead. she can finally be at peace. Avdol has been found, affirming that he didn’t die for Polnareff’s sake. and here you are, humming a song that he doesn’t know but appearing so content.

while he may not know who he is, he does know that he wants to make you that happy everyday.

Polnareff takes this as his cue to approach you. you bend down to reach into your laundry basket, and when you come back up, the Frenchman is there. he’s not pulling any dumb moves, though. he’s much quieter here.

he follows your lead, reaching into the basket for one of his pants, then comes back up to hang them. you return his actions with a smile, a wordless indication of thanks, and continue to work. that song you were humming returns once more, and Polnareff swears that he can feel his heartbeat pounding in his fingertips.

you and Polnareff continue to work like this until the laundry basket is empty. it’s the first time he doesn’t say anything for 10 minutes, at least that you’ve noticed. what you don’t notice that he’s trying to avoid staring, sneaking quick glances as you focus on the task at hand.

when all is said and done, you stretch your arms far above your head, cuing a satisfying pop from your back. you thank Polnareff for helping you and begin heading back to your room. however, he’s quick to stop you. ↳ “hey, wait!” yikes. did that sound too much? “err- let me know if you need any help. I’m always here for you, [Name].” he sounds defeated in that last sentence. he can tell. he wonders if you can, too. but when you grin and tuck your hair behind your ear, telling him that you’d keep him in your thoughts, Polnareff can’t help but feel his heart swell. did he make you happy here?

[donica95]

Mysteries of the heart

Mirio x Fem!reader

Rating: Explicit/smut

A/N this is a sever collab with the Citrus dome sever for masquerade collab

For the rest of the masquerade collab can be found here

Mirio X FemReader

It was warm for a summer day, the leaves flowing with the wind like nature's dancing. You've always loved summer since growing up with your grandparents by the water, but that was long ago.

Looking out the cafeteria window you spot your long time crush. Mirio Togata, he was bright, humorous and devilishly handsome. 

Sighing as you turn away from him hoping he'd notice you even though he was a known flirt, not that you seemed to mind. Even if he had that side to him, his kindness, compassion, and smile was what always drew you to his wonderful baby blue eyes. 

 You know that no matter how much it made your heart sweep whenever you saw him. You felt the distance between the two of you, he had a powerful quirk, while you only were the brain in your class. Knowing this.. when he ever-

“Good morning (Y/n), are you having a good day?” A boisterous voice said, you turned seeing a face through a wall, making you jump.

“Ah! My goodness.. don’t scare me like that Togata!” You flushed, as you managed to compose yourself. 

“Oh-ho.. sorry.” Mirio said, as he reverted back into the wall. Then minutes later you see Mirio and Tamaki with Nejire in tow. 

"Oh my gosh" Nejire exclaimed and rushed to you, "did you trim some of your hair?" she questioned as the boys took their seats. Feeling flustered by the sudden attention from your best friend's actions.

Nervously you glanced away from them in hoping all the attention would go away, thankful Tamaki softly spoke up. "Nejire give Y/N some space to breathe" he suggests. Playing with your strand of hair you stuttered

"I-I-I- thought it would be good to change it once and while."

Satisfied with your answer, they went back to talking amongst themselves leaving you to your thoughts. Later in the day you were walking home, till you heard an all too familiar voice behind you.

Turning around you saw Mirio running towards you to catch up. "Mirio?!" He finally stopped in front of you with his classic boyish smile "hiya do you mind if I walk you home?" He questioned as the sun was getting lower and turning into dusk.

"Sure Mirio" a gentle smile formed on your lips, you may seem calm on the outside but inside you were internally screaming. He was so close to touch and yet you were so nervous that you didn't want to ruin your friendship with him.

Finally you found yourself at your doorstep after a nice walk with Mirio "Thank you Mirio for walking me home" as you gave a slight bow towards him. A giggle was heard in front of you. Mirio spoke with his cheerful voice "it's not a problem, I can't have a pretty lady walk home at night. Right?"  

"Haha definitely Mirio." You laughed at his playful joke. As the still night air blows its chilled air you shutter, “Well I should head inside.. thank you again Mirio.” You gave him a slight smile, before grabbing the handle, you hesitated to turn the knob. 

You know this was your one chance to say how you felt. "Mirio I.."

But as you turned around to look at Mirio but he was already outta ear shot. 

The look of yearning was showing as you watched Mirio walk away, you breathed out a sigh as you turned to walk into your home. "Why must I chicken out", suddenly you heard thumping noises running down the stairs. 

A black and white blur ran straight towards you. "Iggy!" You shouted as he tackled you to the ground, licking your face. You couldn't help but to laugh at his personality. Thankfully Iggy always knows how to cheer me up, "You are so smart, yes you are Iggy" Iggy barked and jumped around as the praise. 

Looking to your right on the ground, there was a white Victorian era letter with my name written in calligraphy. It was embossed with gold of the era of the year the school was founded. 

In awe you picked up the letter, flipping and seeing the wax stamp of the school emblem. You jumped and gave a little squeal as you finally got invited to the UA mysterious ball.

Being curious you carefully opened the envelope which reveals a letter with gold and silver filigree borders. Giving the letter a beautiful light shimmer that captured the eyes.

Reading it says.

"To whom this may concern: Y/N L/N"

"We are pleased to announce that you are invited to the 79th annual UA masquerade ball.

Masquerade attire is required!

Day: XXXX

Time: 8:00 PM

Location: XXXXX"

Slightly turning to look at the time it was 6:30pm, you felt your stomach sank at the sight of the clock, as you only have one hour and 30 minutes till the ball. 

Quickly standing up you rush to your room with Iggy on your heels, looking through your closet for any party dresses. At a loss on what to wear then Iggy tugs on your skirt. "Iggy don't pull on it!" You exclaimed. 

Iggy runs around in a circle then points towards out of your door, finally deciding to see what made him so anxious you follow him out of your room. You were suspicious as to where he was leading you, till you both stood at the entrance of the attic.

Stepping into the room it was dark and barely any light, so using your phone as a light source. Looking around you spot a few spider webs and old boxes but looking further you see a trunk. 

"What a trunk doing up here?" You questioned, you brushed your fingers along the rough edge of the trunk, taking a deep breath you opened the trunk to reveal a beautiful silver mask and red gems with decorative feathers. 

Putting the mask on the ground beside you, your attention returned to the trunk and your eye caught silk-like fabric with small diamond gemstones across the waist. Picking it up it revealed to be a beautiful black and red dress with a shoulder strap, in awe you ran back downstairs with the mask and dress in tow to get a better look at it. 

"W-wow, it's beautiful!" Now in the light you could see the simple yet elegant design of the dress and mask, the diamond gems lightly sparkled as the sunlight hit the gems. 

Donning the dress it perfectly shaped your body, then finally putting on the mask you completed the masquerade look. Taking a deep breath you felt you were ready for anything, walking out the door with newfound confidence it was time to go to the event.

It was dark out as you arrived at the manor. Stepping out to see a huge beautiful gothic architecture, walking up the stairs there were two lion statues at the top of the stairs with their mouths agape. Once inside candles lit the rooms full with people. 

Stepping into the bigger room, you could feel eyes were upon you. As you slowly descend the staircase you could hear the faint whispering of different voices saying "Who's that girl?" and "She looks gorgeous." 

The sound of music was heard as couples were dancing beautifully. Crystalline chandelier was shining bright as the candles illuminated the room, along the walls were stained glass windows with different designs, one in particular stood from the rest. 

A painting of a woman and a man dancing together, the look of passion in their eyes as they stared at each other. 

Watching the people from a distance, you gaze around the room spotting some people you know they all looked elegant with their masquerade attire, they glowed with excitement and were talking amongst themselves.

You noticed that Mirio wasn't in the group, so you continued to scanned the room. You glance at the dance floor and you spot a young gentleman dancing with a girl you cannot place.  He had a loose messy slicked back except for a few strands of hair on his forehead and a black and red mask along with black and faint red suit. 

As the song recedes you got up the nerve to ask him to dance,you flowed ever so lightly across the dance floor to come up behind him. You stand there quietly as he spins around to see you. His eyes opened in awe as he saw you for the first time. 

He steps back and graciously holds his hand out to you and asks, "May I have this dance?" Your pulse quickens as you gently take his hand and he leads you way through the crowd. 

The young gentleman suddenly stops and turns to face you, his right hand rests on your waist and his left holding your right hand. You both begin to move to the music, his blue eyes never leaving your E/C. 

"You're a wonderful dancer" he chuckles then twirls you around. Shaking your head you smiled. You wanted to say something but then you decided against it, thinking it would be more fun to let him do the chasing for once. Once the music ended, you slipped out of his grasp teasingly and walked away from him. 

You felt his eyes still on you as you walked away, slightly swaying your hips. Mirio was mesmerised, he knew he couldn't let this gorgeous woman walk away from him without knowing her name. 

Walking out through the window doors your eyes spotted a beautiful garden, and a cobblestone walkway leading to a dimly lit gazebo with vines growing along the wooden railing and pillars.

You feel as if this place is magical but you were unable to describe the feeling, walking up the stairs of the gazebo looking at the bright moon you sighed in wondering if Mirio would return your feelings. 

Not even a moment later you heard footsteps on the wooden gazebo floor, slowly you turned around to see Mirio 

Rubbing the back of his neck. "I was wondering where you went. To tell you the truth you're a difficult person to find." He gave a smile that you loved which made your heart race, you chuckled softly "Well you found me" you winked at him then took a step forward closer to him. 

Mirio could feel his heart race as the mystery woman put a hand on his chest then lean closer to his ear then whispered "come catch me." Then she rushed from the gazebo laughing, tempting him to follow in the moonlight.

Seeing a weeping willow tree, giggling you walked through the long leaves of the tree knowing that he would be on your tail. As he got near your hiding place he asked "where did my mystery lady go?!" You couldn't help but giggle at his playfulness but then you both were face to face. 

You were surprised to see him sticking his head into where you were hiding, he pulled your body into an embrace close enough to feel his breath against yours. Slowly he cupped your face, connecting your lips into a passionate kiss his lips drifted down your neck. 

His hands explored your body which caused you to moan out his name, surprised he looked at you and wondered how you knew his name "how did you know?" he asked while finally taking off his mask revealing his handsome face.

"B-because I like you" you knew your face was red at that moment, your hands reached the edge of the mask, revealing who you are. Mirio couldn't help but be surprised by your identity "Y/N?." Nervously you blushed but his lips found yours again, You moan into his lips as his tongue presses into your mouth, filling you. He moves his hips against you, and you feel his massive bulge rub against your crotch. You whimper into the kiss, and he slides a hand around you to unzip your dress.

The dress falls down onto the ground, leaving you just in your panties, Mirio felt blood rush down to his member as it hardened at the sight of you. Using his quirk his clothes fell easy through his body. 

Moving his body forward on it's own, his mouth kisses down your body till he reaches your breasts, you give a moan as he rubs your crotch over your panties, pressing his palm into the sweet spot just above your clit, You gasp as he starts focusing on making you so wet that his cock slides in effortlessly. 

Your hips buck into his hands as you tangle your fingers in the short, blonde hair at the nape of his neck. You tug slightly, he happily switches to your other nipple, nibbling gently as he adds more pressure to your clit. You let yourself moan freely to encourage him as he focuses on making you feel good. 

He quickly removes your painties then he slides a thick finger into your wet pussy. You arch your body into his face. He starts fingering you slowly, you needed more, you needed him. "Mirio please, fuck me with your hard cock" you moaned, you felt him smirk into your breast, then he lets go of your breast with a wet pop and looks at your red face.

"Such a good girl, for using your manners." His voice was deep and full of lust, aligning his cock to your entrance he easily slipped in. Slowly he pulls out then quickly pushes in leaving you no time to adjust to his size, as you opened your mouth to moan you felt his tongue and yours fighting for dominance and he lifts your leg to thrust harder.

With one hard thrust your pussy clenched down on his member as you came, not long after he came after you, you felt his warm seed in you as he pulled out, still in his arms as you both were coming down from your highs, Mirio looks at you with loving eyes then speaks up to say "I like you too Y/N." 

FIN.

Taglist: @lemonlordleah-shinzawa-kitten @cherrycolabomb @saint-eridell @katsontherun @present-mel @knifeewifee @thewheezingwyvern

[heirloommtomatoes]

you’re in a car with a beautiful boy

I’m at least 90% sure this ask was not sent with the intent of receiving a fic as a response but. Here we are. This got way longer and more convoluted than I had intended it to be and I’m jus gonna post it at this point bc i’m losing my mind re-reading it jsksk ! The title is from part 24 of Richard Siken’s poem “You Are Jeff”. Perfect poem for their first kiss, I think! Enjoy reading! :)

Warnings: Two instances of canon-typical homophobic language; canon-typical swearing.

Word Count: 2.6k~

The day Ian Gallagher shows up at his door, red-cheeked, out of breath, and wanting, no — “I need to see you” — needing him, Mickey knows he’s done for.

What comes out is: “I thought you were working today.”

Nice, dumbshit, that’s helpful, he registers the thought somewhere in the back of his mind, but mostly he just can’t stop staring at Ian. His eyes flick over his face, and he doesn’t have time to be shocked by how much he cares.

He’s embarrassed to reveal that yes, he did memorize Ian’s work schedule because he was in fact listening to the guy when he was busy running his mouth at the convenience store. Instinctively, he casts a quick glance over his shoulder. He can’t let Terry see this gay shit, Ian all worked up about some mommy issues and Mickey trying in his own way. To do what exactly, he’s still not completely sure. Comfort him, maybe? He doubts his father would clue in, his head’s too far up his homophobic ass for that, but like hell Mickey’s gonna risk it. Nothing’s gonna touch Ian. Fucking ever, if it’s up to him.

“I’ll meet you there in twenty,” Mickey says a short while later. He closes the door and goes back inside to stand around the dining table where Terry was going over some kind of raid or bust or heist while somehow managing to boss Mandy around every other word.

Mickey can’t focus on anything. He’s going to see Ian in twenty minutes. He’s bubbling with palpable excitement and fear and feelings he has no name for. What if Ian wants to talk about everything? Does he smell bad? What could Mickey say so he doesn’t leave? So Ian doesn’t see what a miserable shit he is? He hates Ian fucking Gallagher for making him care about dumb stuff like this, for making him incapable of hearing a word his Dad is saying to him and his brothers, for making him want to do some astronomically stupid thing like kiss him.

“Mickey, why you over there starin’ like some dumb fuckin’ fag?”

He doesn’t work up the courage for over another year.

Mickey slams the door to his room after running errands with Iggy all morning. It smells stale and one of the posters is curling off the wall in the mid-summer humidity. He’d changed his sheets this morning. The same red ones from the day Ian had burst in here like a maniac demanding the gun back. From then on, the two had been inseparable; no matter how hard their South Side circumstances had tried to pry them apart, every time they came back together like magnets.

Mickey knows he can’t really hide from Ian, and it scares him as much as it excites him. Ian reads him like no one ever has. The guy even had the nerve to smile that adorable smile that makes Mickey’s chest tight when he’d told him he’d rip his tongue out back in juvie. For some reason that Mickey cannot begin to fathom, Ian seems to want to spend time with him. Seems to believe in him.

He had thought himself perfectly fine to live a life half-awake, to spend his days either in prison or in the Milkovich household (one in the same, he thinks - except that juvie doesn’t have Terry), probably die by shivs or bullets or fists, and have his body buried in some unmarked grave all before his 50th birthday. Ian had wedged his place in the timeline of Mickey’s life. There was a before, and an after, and neither of them would ever be the same. Mickey pretends that its not this thought that keeps him up at night.

As soon as he realized that Iggy and Colin and Terry looked at girls and actually wanted them, that it wasn’t just some bizarre social act they all bought into, he knew he was fucked for life. His whole existence feels like some grand joke that everyone is in on but him, and when he lays down at night and stares at his ceiling and thinks about Ian Gallagher, Ian Gallagher, Ian Gallagher, he wonders if maybe he was the butt of it all along.

Ian Gallagher, who knew him and wanted him anyway, who took the time to care about him, who sought him out to spend time with him just because he wanted to. When had their ten minute fucks turned into smoke breaks? When had their smoke breaks turned into —

Mickey’s phone dings in his pocket as he sits on the steps of the Milkovich house, a cigarette dangling idly from his mouth.

Ian

what are ur plans today

He swallows his heart back down as it leaps into his throat, almost dizzying him with excitement. Get a grip, you fuckin’ girl. He’d done all that he needed to do for the day. He’d helped Iggy with some errands in the morning and had planned on laying low, playing Halo 3, and chain-smoking his way through a pack until dinner.

He chews on his lip as he considers what to say. He texts back:

Mickey

don’t have any

He wants to say “why, what’s up?”, he wants to say “let’s go to the dugouts”, he wants to say “let’s do something”, “let’s hang out”, “i want to see you”, “i want you”. But he’s not allowed to want things. Certainly not…this. Whatever this is. He receives a response almost immediately and can’t help but crack a fond smile. Someone’s eager.

Ian

come with me to that abandoned building near the L

you know the spot

That’s how Mickey finds himself sitting atop a wooden platform, watching Ian run military drills below at 1 in the afternoon on a Sunday.

He fires his gun into the sky while resolutely pretending not to be checking out the younger boy below.

“Hey,” Ian says, breathing heavily and squinting against the sun and Mickey finds himself realizing he is made of things he cannot ever have, “You know that guy you beat the shit out of at that club?”

Of course Mickey remembers. His stomach flops at the mention of him.

“He wants me to sneak into his mansion and take all of his crap.”

“Really,” Mickey responds dryly, firing off another shot. He doesn’t want Ian to keep talking about him, “Hi-larious.”

“Can’t get it himself,” Ian continues, as if Mickey cares. And the worst part is that he thinks maybe he does — he cares about everything this alien-looking ginger has to say and he hates it and he can never, ever get enough of it, of him, of Ian, “Divorce. Says I can take whatever I want. He’s loaded. You want in?”

Mickey fires shots at the ground by Ian’s head where he’s crawling under some boards. He’s remembering seeing them at that bar in Boystown, out in the heat and in the sun and in public, cracking jokes and living a life Mickey can only watch from behind glass, from behind bars. Fuck that old guy for getting handed on a silver platter what Mickey so desperately craves but cannot have. Not just Ian — freedom. Though Mickey thinks they’re one in the same these days.

“Jesus! Use blanks, maybe?! Fuck.” Ian shouts up at him, dragging himself up off the ground.

“Bring my cousins?” Mickey asks, refusing to look at him. Every time he does he sees them together and wishes that it had been him, sun-drunk and laughing and free by his side.

“Yeah,” Ian shrugs.

“‘Aight, I’m in,” Mickey fires off another shot. He’s angry at Ian for nothing other than exercising his complete right to see other people since they weren’t really together anyway, he’s angry at that old ass man for being able to go out for drinks with him, touch him, kiss him, and most of all he’s angry at himself.

He feels broken for wanting him. He feels broken for not being able to be brave enough to admit that he wants him. He gets cut on his own self-hatred any direction he turns.

“I dunno what you see in that geriatric viagroid,” he says, forcing himself to meet Ian’s gaze, if for a brief moment.

“He buys me stuff, orders me room service,” Ian says nonchalantly, looking up at Mickey. It’s obvious how much he’s been working out. His shoulders are hard and defined, his chest chiseled through the dark green of his military shirt. Mickey feels the familiar sting of contempt rising in his throat and fires off two more shots.

He can’t buy him anything, let alone room service. The fuck kind of response is that? More than anything, it annoys Mickey because he knows it isn’t really true. He’s bullshitting him, and that gets to him more than Ted or Ned or Fred or whatever the hell is name is ever could. He knows he’s not that superficial. Sure, he doesn’t doubt those are nice bonuses, but he knows there’s more to it than that.

He knows Ian. He knows Ian and he wishes that didn’t have to mean he loves him, but it does. He doesn’t understand how anyone could know Ian and not love him. But he’s not quite ready to admit that yet, least of all to himself.

“He isn’t afraid to kiss me,” Ian adds.

Ah. There it is.

His world has become a breathing thing with Ian in it. Before it was stagnant, stale, drowning. It has become a beast with teeth that threatens to tear him from the careful scaffolding he has built around the most fragile parts of his life.

If he kisses him, then everything he fears he is will be true.

Some dumb fuckin’ fag.

So Mickey brings his cousins later that evening and doesn’t stop thinking about Ian’s comment for the rest of the day. The van ride is full of loud music and rolled down windows that let in the warm, fresh summer air, and Iggy and Colin are endlessly bickering and hitting each other in the back of the car.

“Can you assholes quiet down when we get closer? You’re gonna wake up the old lady and everyone else in the goddamn neighbourhood before we even roll in the fuckin’ driveway,” Mickey says, swatting at them from where he’s sitting in the passenger seat. Ian glances his way with an amused smile that Mickey only just catches when he settles back. He grins in return around the cigarette dangling from his mouth.

“Oh hey, pass one?” Ian asks, holding out his hand. Mickey’s about to give him one before a car speeds around a corner and almost T-bones the side of the van. Ian’s hand snaps back to the wheel to swerve out of the way, and Mickey drops the cigarette to the floor of the van in all the commotion.

“Asshole, watch it!” Ian exclaims as he uselessly flips off the car that’s now long gone down the road. Mickey lets out a guffaw of a laugh and abandons handing him the lost cigarette in favour of placing his own half-smoked one right between Ian’s lips.

The intimacy of the action doesn’t strike him until he’s nudging the cigarette against his mouth and his eyes are tracing the outline of his lips and he can feel the warmth of his breath against his tattooed knuckles. The raw familiarity of the action and the fact that Mickey’s own lips had just been on the cigarette that’s now resting on the edge of Ian’s mouth has his heart racing so quickly he can feel it in his chest like a ton of bricks. Ian casts him a side-glance out of the corner of his eye as he parts his lips to accept it. Mickey takes his hand away and clears his throat, glancing at the rear-view mirror to an oblivious Colin and Iggy.

“Thanks,” Ian mumbles, remembering himself as he snaps out of whatever it had been that passed between them just now.

Mickey wants to kiss him. He really, really wants to kiss him. He’d tried fucking girls and had been less turned on than he was just now doing nothing other than placing his cigarette in Ian’s mouth.

Ian pulls into the drive minutes later, cigarette since burned through and discarded out the window. Mickey tries not to feel the absence of it as though it were his own lips against his and not just the ghost of them stained onto the cigarette.

Colin drags open the side door and hops out with Iggy, zipping open a duffel bag full of guns. Mickey’s grateful for the distraction, for the absolute focus violence requires that he hopes will shove his desire to do something as stupid as kiss Ian out of his head.

“Hey! Whoa, guys, guys! No fucking guns, alright? It’s just a drunk old lady in there,” Ian says, brow furrowed as he looks at Mickey.

Trust Gallagher to be the defender of drunk old ladies. Mickey bites at his lip, trying and failing to ignore the way his chest swells with adoration at Ian’s request. Soft motherfucker. He’s right, though — any unnecessary violence and this could be a way bigger deal than it needs to be. Plus, he’d rather not piss off his only and best friend. He grabs the guns back from his cousins, much to their disappointment, and makes off toward the house.

He hadn’t woken up this morning thinking that today would be the day he’d kiss Ian. Hell, even now he’s sure that if he thinks about it any more he’ll chicken out and never kiss him at all. Mickey Milkovich, with the F-U-C-K U-U-P knuckles, who wears dirt and a scowl like they’re permanent accessories, is going to kiss Ian Gallagher, the freckled boy who protects drunk old ladies and smiles at him like he hangs the damn stars. He figures he was about to storm into an old lady’s house brandishing firearms without second thought or fright. Is kissing someone really that much more terrifying?

Abso-fuckin-lutely.

But there’s nothing between them but the van and Mickey’s fear. And fuck the fear. Fuck it. 

He can pretend that he kisses him for no other reason than to prove a point, than to fulfill some implied dare. 

At the end of the day, he kisses him because he wants to. 

He kisses him because he likes him. 

He kisses him because he loves him.

Mickey’s heart is racing so badly he feels that he might throw up and well, what an impression that would leave. Every part of him is shaking as he turns and takes one step, two steps, pulls himself into the van and…

His lips are against Ian’s. They’re so much softer than he’d imagined (and he had imagined, often) and warm and Mickey can feel the breath from his nose against his own face. He tastes like smoke and freedom and something sweet Mickey can’t place -- a fucking Snickers bar? -- but loves the taste of anyway.

His brain short-circuits. He lingers longer than he had intended to, but it’s real and it’s better than he ever thought it could be. He’d kissed Sarah Perkins on a dare back in 7th grade and he’d gargled vodka afterwards to wash his mouth out.

He’d thought himself broken for it just not feeling right. But this…this feels right. Ian makes him feel right. He had expected, hoped even maybe, that it would feel wrong. That he would kiss him and feel as though he had done something terrible, something worse than stealing from an old lady’s home, but if it does he can’t bring himself to care at the moment.

On his tongue, in his touch, with his laugh, Ian has given him the vocabulary to understand himself. To put a name to feelings mostly only understood in the illuminating glory of hindsight.

He’s spent his whole life outside of himself. Is this what it is to know yourself? Is this what it is for everything to suddenly make sense? He isn’t allowed soft things. He isn’t allowed this.

But here he is anyway.

And the world spins on.

He wants to kiss him again and again and again but he remembers his cousins in the house and what he suspects was probably less than five seconds feels like an eternity and Ian’s lips are starting to respond and move and is that his hand starting to lift to touch him? oh shit what if they come back to get him and this is what they walk in on and --

He pulls back and retreats as quickly as he’d arrived, throwing up a middle finger at Ian. Afraid to kiss him, Mickey’s ass.

Fuck he thinks as he runs back to the house, and can’t think much else but fuckfuckfuck, every inch of him charged and shaking and electric.

“Forgot somethin’,” he says breathlessly to the two boys who are, as it turns out, barely paying him any mind as they bicker between themselves about how they’re going to manage picking up a cabinet heavier than the two of them combined. Mickey’s not listening to them as they end up dropping it to split up and tackle smaller bait.

He grins wickedly to himself. He did it. Mickey goddamn Milkovich made a choice that wasn’t about pain or hurt or violence. He’d made a choice that was his and his alone and it was soft. Mickey Milkovich could choose to be soft, and gentle, and maybe even caring.

And if he can kiss Ian Gallagher? He can do anything.

[livingdeadinsideyourhead]

Free Music in a Capitalist Society - Iggy Pop's Keynote Speech Transcript

Hi, I'm Iggy Pop. I've held a steady job at BBC 6 Music now for almost a year, which is a long time in my game. I always hated radio and the jerks who pushed that shit music into my tender mind, with rare exceptions. When I was a boy, I used to sit for hours suffering through the entire US radio top 40 waiting for that one song by The Beatles and the other one by The Kinks. Had there been anything like John Peel available in my Midwestern town I would have been thrilled. So it's an honor to be here. I understand that. I appreciate it.

Some months ago when the idea of this talk came up I thought it might be okay to talk about free music in a Capitalist society. So that's what I'm gonna try to talk about. A society in which the Capitalist system dominates all the others, and seeks their destruction when they get in its way. Since then, the shit has really hit the fan on the subject, thanks to U2 and Apple. I worked half of my life for free. I didn't really think about that one way or the other, until the masters of the record industry kept complaining that I wasn't making them any money. To tell you the truth, when it comes to art, money is an unimportant detail. It just happens to be a huge one unimportant detail. But, a good LP is a being, it's not a product. It has a life-force, a personality, and a history, just like you and me. It can be your friend. Try explaining that to a weasel.

As I learned when I hit 30 +, and realized I was penniless, and almost unable to get my music released, music had become an industrial art and it was the people who excelled at the industry who got to make the art. I had to sell most of my future rights to keep making records to keep going. And now, thanks to digital advances, we have a very large industry, which is laughably maybe almost entirely pirate so nobody can collect shit. Well, it was to be expected. Everybody made a lot of money reselling all of recorded musical history in CD form back in the 90s, but now the cat is out of the bag and the new electronic devices which estrange people from their morals also make it easier to steal music than to pay for it. So there's gonna be a correction.

When I started The Stooges we were organized as a group of Utopian communists. All the money was held communally and we lived together while we shared the pursuit of a radical ideal. We shared all song writing, publishing and royalty credits equally – didn’t matter who wrote it - because we'd seen it on the back of a Doors album and thought it was cool, at least I did. Yeah. I thought songwriting was about the glory, I didn't know you'd get paid for it. We practiced a total immersion to try to forge a new approach which would be something of our own. Something of lasting value. Something that was going to be revealed and created and was not yet known.

We are now in the age of the schemer and the plan is always big, big, big, but it's the nature of the technology created in the service of the various schemes that the pond, while wide, is very shallow. Nobody cares about anything too deeply expect money. Running out of it, getting it. I never sincerely wanted to be rich. There is a, in the US, we have this guy “Do you sincerely wanna be rich? You can do it!” I didn’t sincerely want to be rich. I never sincerely felt like making anyone else that way. That made me a kind of a wild card in the 60's and 70's. I got into the game because it felt good to play and it felt like being free. I'm still hearing today about how my early works with The Stooges were flops. But they're still in print and they sell 45 years later, they sell. Okay, it took 20 or 25 years for the first royalties to roll in. So sue me.

Some of us who couldn't get anywhere for years kept beating our heads against the same wall to no avail. No one did that better than my friends The Ramones. They kept putting out album after album, frustrated that they weren't getting the hit. They even tried Phil Spector and his handgun. After the first couple of records, which made a big impact, they couldn't sustain the quality, but I noticed that every album had at least one great song and I thought, wow if these guys would just stop and give it a rest, society would for sure catch up to them. And that's what's happening now, but they're not around to enjoy it. I used to run into Johnny at a little rehearsal joint in New York and he'd be in a big room all alone with a Marshall stack just going "dum, dum, dum, dum, dum" all my himself. I asked him why and he said if he didn't practice doing that exactly the way he did it live he'd lose it. He was devoted and obsessive, so were Joey and Deedee. I like that. Johnny asked me one day - Iggy don't you hate Offspring and the way they're so popular with that crap they play. That should be us, they stole it from us. I told him look, some guys are born and raised to be the captain of the football team and some guys are just gonna be James Dean in Rebel Without a Cause and that's the way it is. Not everybody is meant to be big. Not everybody big is any good.

I only ever wanted the money because it was symbolic of love and the best thing I ever did was to make a lifetime commitment to continue playing music no matter what, which is what I resolved to do at the age of 18. If who you are is who you are that is really hard to steal, and it can lead you in all sorts of useful directions when the road ahead of you is blocked and it will get blocked. Now I'm older and I need all the dough I can get. So I too am concerned about losing those lovely royalties, now that they've finally arrived, in the maze of the Internet. But I'm also diversifying my income, because a stream will dry up. I'm not here to complain about that, I'm here to survive it.

When I was starting out as a full time musician I was walking down the street one bright afternoon in the seedier part of my Midwestern college town. I passed a dive bar and from it emerged a portly balding pallid middle aged musician in a white tux with a drink in one hand and a guitar in the other. He was blinking in the daylight. I had a strong intuition that this was a fate to be avoided. He seemed cut off from society and resigned to an oblivious obscurity. A bar fly. An accessory to booze. So how do you engage society as an artist and get them to pay you? Well, that's a matter of art. And endurance.

To start with, I cannot stress enough the importance of study. I was lucky to work in a discount record store in Ann Arbor Michigan as a stock boy where I was exposed to a little bit of every form of music imaginable on record at the time. I listened to it all whether I liked it or not. Be curious. And I played in my high school orchestra and I learned the joy of the warm organic instruments working together in the service of a classical piece. That sticks with you forever. If anyone out there can get a chance to put an instrument and some knowledge in some kids hand, you've done a great, great thing.

Comparative information is a key to freedom. I found other people who were smarter than me. To teach me. My first pro band was a blues band called The Prime Movers and the leader Michael Erlewine was a very bright hippy beatnik with a beautifully organized record collection in library form of The Blues. I'd never really heard the Blues. That part of our American heritage was kept off the major media. It was system up, people down. No Big Bill Broonzy on BBC for us. Boy I wish! No money in it. But everything I learned from Michael's beautiful library became the building blocks for anything good I've done since. Guys like this are priceless. If you find one, follow him, or her. Get the knowledge.

Once in secondary school in the 60's some class clowns dressed up the tallest guy in school in a trench coat, shades and a fedora and rushed him in to a school dance with great hubbub proclaiming "Del Shannon is here, Del Shannon is here." And until they got to the stage we all believed them, because nobody knew what Del Shannon looked like. He was just a voice on some great records. He had no social ID. By the early 60's that had really changed with the invasion of The Beatles and The Stones. This time TV was added to the mix and print media too. So you knew who they were, or so you thought anyway. I'm mentioning this because the best way to survive the death or change of an industry is to transcend its form. You're better off with an identity of your own or maybe a few of them. Something special.

It is my own personal view having lived through it that in America The Beatles replaced our assassinated president Kennedy, who represented our hopes for a certain kind of society. Didn’t get there. And The Stones replaced our assassinated folk music which our own leaders suppressed for cultural, racial, and financial reasons. It wasn't okay with everybody to be Kennedy or Muddy Waters, but those messages could be accepted if they came through white entertainers from the parent culture. That's why they’re still around.

Years later I had the impression that Apple, the corporation, had successfully co-opted the good feelings that the average American felt about the culture of the Beatles, by kind of stealing the name of their company so I bought a little stock. Good move. 1992. Woo! But look, everybody is subject to the rip off and has to change affiliations from time to time. Even Superman and Barbie were German before America tempted them to come over. Tough luck, Nietzche.

So who owns what anyway. Or as Bob Dylan said "The relationships of ownership." That’s gates of Eden. Nobody knows for long, especially these days. Apparently when BBC radio was founded, the record companies in England wouldn't allow the BBC to play their master recordings because they thought no one would buy them for their personal use if they could hear them free on the radio. So they were really confused about what they had. They didn’t get it. And how people feel about music. ‘Cause it’s a feel thing, and it resists logic. It’s not binary code. Later when CD's came in, the retail merchants in American all panicked because they were just too damn tiny and they thought that Americans want something that looks big, like a vinyl record. Well they had a point but their solution was a kind of Frankenstein called "The Long Box." It didn't fool anybody because half of it was empty. It had a little CD in the bottom. You’d open it up and it was empty. Now we have people in the Sahara using GPS to bury huge wads of Euros under sand dunes for safe keeping. But GPS was created for military spying from the high ground, not radical banking so any sophisticated system, along with the bounty it brings, is subject to primitive hijacking.

I wanna talk about a type of entrepreneur who functions as a kind of popular music patron of the arts. It’s good to know a patron. I call him El Padron because his relationship to the artist is essentially feudal, though benign. He or she (La Padrona) if you will, is someone, usually the product of successful, enlightened parents, who owns a record company, but has had benefit of a very good education, and can see a bigger picture than a petty business person. If they like an artists’ style and it suits them, they'll support you even if you’re not a big money spinner. I can tell you, some of these powerful guys get so bored that if you are fun in the office, you’ll go places. Their ancestors, the old time record crooks just made it their business to make great, great records, but also to rip off the artist 100%, copyright, publishing, royalty splits, agency fees, you name it. If anyone complained the line was "Pay you? We worship you!" God bless Bo Diddley.

By the time I came along, there was a new brand of Padron. People like this are still around and some can help you. One was named Jack Holzman. Jack had a beautiful label called Elektra Records, they put out Judy Collins, Tim Buckley, the Doors and Love. He'd started working in his family record store, like Brian Epstein. He dressed mod and he treated us very gently. He was a civilized man. He obviously loved the arts, but what he really wanted to do was build his business - and he did. He had his own concerns, and style, and you had to serve them, and of course when he sold out, as all indies do, you were stranded culturally in the hands of a cold clumsy conglomerate. But he put us in the right studios with the right producers and he tried to get us seen in the right venues and it really helped. This is a good example of the industry.

Another good guy I met is Sir Richard Branson. I ended up serving my full term at Virgin Records having been removed from every other label. And he created a superior culture there. People were happier and nicer than the weasels at some other places. The first time he tried to sign me it didn't work out, because I had my sights set on A&M, a company I thought would help make me respectable. After all they had Sting! Richard was secretly starting his own company at the time in the US and he phoned me in my tiny flat with no furniture. He said he'd give me a longer term deal with more dough than the other guys and he was very, very polite and soft spoken. But I had just smoked a joint that day and I couldn't make a decision. So I went with the other guys who soon got sick of me. Virgin picked me up again later on the rebound. And on the cheap. Damn. My own fault.

Another kind of indie legend who is slightly more contemporary is Long Gone John of the label Sympathy for the Record Industry. Good name. John is famous with some artists for his disinterest in paying royalties. He has a very interesting music themed folk art collection – its visible online - which includes my leather jacket. I wish he'd give it back. There are lots of indie people with a gift for organization who just kind of collect freaks and throw them up at the wall to see who sticks. You gotta watch 'em.

When you go a step down creatively from the Padrons who are actually entrepreneurs you get to the executives. You don't wanna know these guys. They usually came over from legal or accounting. They have protégés usually called A&R men to do their dirty work. You can become a favorite with them if your fame or image might reflect limelight on their career. They tend to have no personalities to speak of, which is their strength. Strangely they're never really thinking about the good of their parent company as much as old number one. Avoid them. If you’re an artist, they’ll make you sick or suicidal. The only good thing the conglomerate can do for you – and they’ve done it recently for me - is make you really, really ubiquitous. They do that well. But, when the company is your banker, then you are basically gonna be the Beverly Hill Billies. So it's best not to take their money. Especially when you’re young. These are very tough people, and they can hurt you.

So who are the good guys?! They asked me when they read this thing at BBC 6 Music. Well there are lots of them. If fact, today there are more than ever and they are just about all indies, but first I want to mention Peter Gabriel and WOMAD for everything they've done for what seems like forever to help the greatest musicians in the world, the so called world musicians to gain a foothold and make a living in the modern screwed up cash and carry world. Traditional music was never a for profit enterprise, all the best forms were developed as a kind of you’re job in the community. It was pretty good, it was “Yeah, I’m a musician, I’m gonna skip like doing the dishes or taking the trash out.” It's not surprising that all the greatest singers and players come from parts of the world where everybody is broke and the old ways are getting paved over. So it's crucial for everyone that these treasures not be lost. There are other people of means and intelligence who help others in this way like Philip Glass through Tibet House, David Burn with Luaka Bop, Damon Albarn through Honest John Records. Shout out to Hypnotic Brass Ensemble. Almost all the best music is coming out on indies today like XL Matador, Burger, Anti, Epitaph, Mute, Rough Trade, 4 A D, Sub Pop, etc. etc.

But now YouTube is trying to put the squeeze on these people because it's just easier for a power nerd to negotiate with a couple big labels who own the kind of music that people listen to when they're really not that into music, which of course is most people. So they've got the numbers. But the indies kind of have the guns. I've noticed that indies are showing strength at some of the established streaming services like Spotify and Rhapsody – people are choosing that music. And it's also great that some people are starting their own outlets, like Pledge Music, Band Camp or Drip. As the commercial trade swings more into general show biz the indies will be the only place to go for new talent, outside the Mickey Mouse Club, so I think they were right to band together and sign the Fair Digital Deals Declaration.

There are just so many ways to screw an artist that it's unbelievable. In the old vinyl days they would deduct 10% "breakage fees" for records supposedly broken in shipping, whether that happened or not, and now they have unattributed digital revenue, whatever the **** that means. It means money for some guy’s triple bypass. I actually think that what Thom Yorke has done with Bit Torrent is very good. I was gonna say here: “Sure the guy is a pirate at Bit Torrent” but I was warned legally, so I’ll say: “Sure the guy a Bit Torrent is a pirate’s friend” But all pirates want to go legit, just like I wanted to be respectable. It’s normal. After a while people feel like you’re a crook, it’s too hard to do business. So it’s good in this case that Thom Yorke is encouraging a positive change. The music is good. It’s being offered at a low price direct to people who care.

I want to try to define what I am talking about when I say free. For me in the arts or in the media, there are two kinds of free. One kind of free is when the process is something that people just feel for you. You feel a sense of possibility. You feel a lack of constraint. This leads to powerful, energetic, sometimes kind of loony situations.

Vice Media is an interesting case of this because they started as a free handout, using public funds, and they had open, free-wheeling minds. Originally a free handout was called Voice and these kids were like “Just get rid of the old! I don’t wanna be Vice, yeah!” Okay. By taking an immersive approach with no particular preconceptions to their reporting, they've become a huge success, also through corporate advertising, at attracting big, big money investment hundreds of millions of dollars now pumped into Fox Media and a couple of others bigger than that in the US. And they get it because they attract lots of little boy eyeballs. So they brought us Dennis Rodman in North Korea. And it’s kind of a travesty, but it’s kind of spunky. It's interesting that capital investment, for all its posturing, never really leads, it always follows. They follow the action. So if it's money you're after, be the yourself in a consistent way and you might get it. You’ll at least end up getting what you are worth and feel better. Just follow your nose.

The second kind of freedom to me that is important in the media is the idea of giving freely. When you feel or sense that someone that someone is giving you something not out of profit, but out of self-respect, Christian charity, whatever it is. That has a very powerful energy. The Guardian, in my understanding, was founded by an endowment by a successful man with a social conscience who wanted to help create a voice for what I would call the little guy. So they have a kind of moral mission or imperative. This has given them the latitude to try to be interesting, thoughtful, helpful. And they bring Edward Snowden to the world stage. Something that is not pleasant for a lot of people to hear about, but we need to know.

These two approaches couldn't be more different. To justify their new mega bucks Vice will have to expand and expand in capital terms. Presumably they'll have to titillate a dumb, but energetic audience. Of course all capitalist expansions are subject to the big bang – balloon, bust, poof, and you’re gone. As for the Guardian I would imagine that the task involves gaining the trust and support of a more discerning, less definable reader, without spending the principal. There is usually an antipathy between cultural poles, but these two actually have a lot in common in terms of the energy and nuisance to power that they are willing to generate. I wish red and blue could come together somehow.

Sometimes I'd rather read than listen to music. One of my favourite odd books is Bootleg: The Secret History of the Other Recording Industry by Clinton Heylin. I bought the book in the 90's because a couple of my bootlegs were mentioned. I loved my bootlegs. They did a lot for me. I never really thought about the dough much. I liked the titles, like Suck on This, Stow Away DOA or Metalic KO. The packaging was always way more creative and edgy than most of my official stuff. So I just liked being seen and heard, like anybody else. These bootleggers were creative. Here are two quotes from the dust jacket by veteran industry stalwarts on the subject of bootlegs in 1994.

"Bootleg is the thoroughly researched and highly entertaining tale of those colorful brigands, hapless amateurs, and true believers who have done wonders for my record collection. Rock and roll doesn't get more underground than this." – that was David Fricke, the music editor of Rolling Stone "I think that bootlegs keep the flame of the music alive by keeping it out of not only the industry's conception of the artist, but also the artist's conception of the artist." – that was Lenny Kaye from the Patti Smith group, musician, critic and my friend.

Wow!! Sounds heroic and vital!

I wonder what these guys feel about all of this now, because things have changed, haven't they? We are now talking about Megaupload, Kim Dot Com, big money, political power, and varying definitions of theft that are legally way over my head. But I know a con man when I see one. I want to include a rant from an early bootlegger in this discussion because it's so passionate and I just think it's funny.

This is Lou Cohan "If anybody thinks that if I have purchased every single Rolling Stones album in existence, and I have bought all the Rolling Stones albums that have been released in England, France, Japan, Italy, and Brazil that if I have an extra $100 in my pocket instead of buying a Rolling Stones bootleg I am going to buy a John Denver album or a Sinead O'Conner album, they are retarded."

So the guy is trying to say don't try to force me. And don't steal my choice. And the people who don't want the free U2 download are trying to say, don't try to force me. And they've got a point. Part of the process when you buy something from an artist. It’s a kind of anointing, you are giving people love. It’s your choice to give or withhold. You are giving a lot of yourself, besides the money. But in this particular case, without the convention, maybe some people felt like they were robbed of that chance and they have a point. It’s not the only point. These are not bad guys. But now, everybody's a bootlegger, but not as cute, and there are people out there just stealing the stuff and saying don't try to force me to pay. And that act of thieving will become a habit and that’s bad for everything. So we are exchanging the corporate rip off for the public one. Aided by power nerds. Kind of computer Putins. They just wanna get rich and powerful. And now the biggest bands are charging insane ticket prices or giving away music before it can flop, in an effort to stay huge. And there's something in this huge thing that kind of sucks.

Which brings us to Punk. The most punk thing I ever saw in my life was Malcolm McLaren's cardboard box full of dirty old winkle pinkers. It was the first thing I saw walking in the door of Let It Rock in 1972 which was his shop at Worlds End on the Kings Road. It was a huge ugly cardboard bin full of mismatched unpolished dried out winkle pickers without laces at some crazy price like maybe five pounds each. Another 200 yards up the street was Granny Takes a Trip, where they sold proper Rockstar clothes like scarves, velvet jackets, and snake skin platform boy boots. Malcolm's obviously worthless box of shit was like a fire bomb against the status quo because it was saying that these violent shoes have the right idea and they are worth more than your fashion, which serves a false value. This is right out of the French enlightenment.

So is the thieving that big a deal? Ethically, yes, and it destroys people because it's a bad road you take. But I don't think that's the biggest problem for the music biz. I think people are just a little bit bored, and more than a little bit broke. No money. Especially simple working people who have been totally left out, screwed and abandoned. If I had to depend on what I actually get from sales I’d be tending bars between sets. I mean honestly it’s become a patronage system. There’s a lot of corps involved and I don’t fault any of them but it’s not as much fun as playing at the Music Machine in Camden Town in 1977. There is a general atmosphere of resentment, pressure, kind of strange perpetual war, dripping on all the time. And I think that prosecuting some college kid because she shared a file is a lot like sending somebody to Australia 200 years ago for poaching his lordship's rabbit. That's how it must seem to poor people who just want to watch a crappy movie for free after they’ve been working themselves to death all day at Tesco or whatever, you know.

If I wanna make music, at this point in my life I'd rather do what I want, and do it for free, which I do, or cheap, if I can afford to. I can. And fund through alternative means, like a film budget, or a fashion website, both of which I've done. Those seem to be turning out better for me than the official rock n roll company albums I struggle through. Sorry. If I wanna make money, well how about selling car insurance? At least I'm honest. It's an ad and that's all it is. Every free media platform I've ever known has been a front for advertising or propaganda or both. And it always colors the content. In other words, you hear crap on the commercial radio. The licensing of music by films, corps, and TV has become a flood, because these people know they're not a hell of a lot of fun so they throw in some music that is. I'm all for that, because that's the way the door opened for me. I got heard on tv before radio would take a chance. But then I was ok. Good. And others too. I notice there are a lot of people, younger and younger, getting their exposure that way. But it's a personal choice. I think it’s an aesthetic one, not an ethical one.

Now with the Internet people can choose to hear stuff and investigate it in their own way. If they want to see me jump around the Manchester Apollo with a horse tail instead of trying to be a proper Rockstar, they can look. Good. Personally I don't worry too much about how much I get paid for any given thing, because I never expected much in the first place and the whole industry has become bloated in its expectations. Look, Howling Wolf would work for a sandwich. This whole thing started in Honky Tonk bars. It's more important to do something important or just make people feel something and then just trust in God. If you're an entertainer your God is the public. They'll take care of you somehow. I want them to hear my music any old which way. Period. There is an unseen hand that turns the pages of existence in ways no one can predict. But while you’re waiting for God to show up and try to find a good entertainment lawyer.

It's good to remember that this is a dream job, whether you're performing or working in broadcasting, or writing or the biz. So dream. Dream. Be generous, don’t be stingy. Please. I can't help but note that it always seems to be the pursuit of the money that coincides with the great art, but not its arrival. It's just kind of a death agent. It kills everything that fails to reflect its own image, so your home turns into money, your friends turn into money, and your music turns into money. No fun, binary code – zero one, zero one - no risk, no nothing. What you gotta do you gotta do, life's a hurly-burly, so I would say try hard to diversify your skills and interests. Stay away from drugs and talent judges. Get organized. Big or little, that helps a lot.

I'd like you to do better than I did. Keep your dreams out of the stinky business, or you'll go crazy, and the money won't help you. Be careful to maintain a spiritual EXIT. Don't live by this game because it's not worth dying for. Hang onto your hopes. You know what they are. They’re private. Because that's who you really are and if you can hang around long enough you should get paid. I hope it makes you happy. It's the ending that counts, and the best things in life really are free.

[gunterfan1992]

Episode Review: ‘BMO’ (Distant Lands, Ep. 1)

Airdate: June 25, 2020

Story by: Anthony Burch, Adam Muto, Hanna K. Nyström, Jack Pendarvis, and Kate Tsang

Storyboarded by: Hanna K Nyström, Iggy Craig, Laura Knetzger, Anna Syvertsson, & Adam Muto

Directed by: Miki Brewster (supervising), Sandra Lee (art)

I just watched a new episode of Adventure Time...

That, dear readers, is a sentence that—after the airing of “Come Along with Me”—I never thought I’d get to write again! And believe me, it feels great to be proved wrong in this instance.

In October of last year, we were all treated to the news that four new Adventure Time specials—collectively identified as Distant Lands—would be airing in the next year or so. For months, the Adventure Time fandom has waited with bated breath for these specials to drop. Would these episodes be good? Would they live up to the series that came before? Would they undo the emotional satisfaction of the Adventure Time finale? These were the questions. And now, the first special—entitled “BMO”—is here. Does it live up to expectations, proving that Adventure Time always bounces back? Or is it toast-bread for sure? Read on to hear my thoughts!

Beginning in media res, "BMO" opens with the titular character on its way to Mars to terraform Mars. After running into an errant service droid named Olive, BMO is transported to a fantastical space station known as the "Drift." It is here that BMO becomes acquainted with a humanoid rabbit named Y5, and together, the two help reveal the insidious plotting of the station's capitalist overlord, Hugo, and his henchman Mr. M (who, it must be noted, is almost certainly Finn’s father, Martin, up to one of his many schemes). After much mayhem, hilarity, and poignancy, the special ends with BMO traveling back to Earth and meeting up with Finn and Jake for the first time—revealing that this entire special was a prequel to the main series, explaining how BMO first met up with his good friends in Ooo.

The first thing I'd like to comment on is the fact that many of the show's former crew members returned to work on this special. In addition to Adam Muto (Adventure Time's hard-working executive producer), this special saw the return of: storyboard artists Hanna K Nyström, Laura Knetzger, and Anna Syvertsson; storyline writer Jack Pendarvis; character designers Andy Ristaino and Benjamin Anders; art director Sandra Lee; and composer Tim Kiefer. I was actually quite surprised (and delighted!) that so many of the show's old guard returned to help out. And while this special also saw several new creative voices helping out (including folks like former OK KO! storyboard artist Iggy Craig, former Steven Universe board artist Miki Brewster, and writer Kate Tsang), the overall product was recognizably Adventure Time. I must admit, this was my biggest worry going into Distant Lands; without folks like Tom Herpich, Kent Osborne, or Cole Sanchez, would this feel like the show I know and love? I’m happy to say that the answer is yes!

BMO really is in fine form in this episode—from their singing the "Potatoes (More Exciting Than Tomatoes)" ditty in space all the way to their hitching a ride to Earth on a space lard. (Indeed, the sheer number of humorous remarks the little robot gets makes me think that many of the shows writers were saving up goofy one-liners following the show’s cancellation, just in case.) I’m quite pleased with how the episode handled the character, and, in truth, somewhat relieved. Initially, I was worried whether the character would be able to coherently anchor an hour long special, given BMO’s unpredictable and somewhat unreliable nature (see: “Ketchup”). Would 45 minutes of BMO’s seemingly boundless goofiness work? Thankfully, the other characters in this special do an excellent job counterpoising the lovable robot’s more, shall we say, unorthodox personality features (Y5 perhaps said it best when she noted that BMO tends to “expend energy for no apparent purpose”). The end result feels remarkably balanced, with BMO’s chaotic, goofball energy complimenting the very real plight of the Drift’s residents.

Speaking of other characters, Y5 served as a workable straight man, whose half-heartedly pragmatic personality contrasts nicely with BMO’s boundless and wacky optimism. I must give the writers and producers credit: it was extremely risky for them to feature a brand new character as one of the main players (rather than one of the show’s many beloved side characters), but for the most part, they stuck the landing. I think much of this success is due to Y5’s voice actress, Glory Curda, whose performance really breathes live into the character, giving her an earnest believability. That said, the fast-paced nature of this special precluded me from developing the strongest emotional connection to the character, and as such, Y5′s “my parents don’t appreciate me” subplot did not resonate with me as strongly as, say, “It Came from the Nightosphere” did. (But then again, not every character can be Marceline!)

Strictly in terms of story structure, "BMO" is not exactly groundbreaking, and the special follows the standard "buddy movie" formula fairly closely (You know, the structure that goes: "Two individuals from different walks of life are forced to work together. Despite a rocky start, they begin to function as a team. Alas, they are split up, but reunite just in the nick of time to save the world"). But unlike Grace Z. Li of Vulture, who wrote that the special plays out "expectedly" and as such "is simply unimaginative in its structure," I cannot say that the standard plot structure torpedoes "BMO"—it simply gives the special a solid story frame that supports the characters while also providing an opportunity for the show to drop some timely social commentary.

Adventure Time has never been one to shy away from such commentary, but I do not know if it has ever been more overt than in “BMO.” As Alexander Sowa of CBR puts it, Hugo—the alien-human overlord of the Drift—is a “futurist reminiscent of Steve Jobs or Elon Musk” who long ago used a spaceship to escape Earth during the final days of the Mushroom War. After “biohacking” his DNA with the genetic material of the grey aliens who flit around the Oooniverse’s infinite cosmos, Hugo and his ilk founded an Amazon-esque empire in the Drift, inculcating its inhabitants with a love for rampant commercialism. As a villain, Hugo really is the wombo combo: a selfish capitalist hell-bent on stealing riches, colonizing new lands, exploiting conquered peoples, and then leaving when the situation looks bleak. It is not hard to see Hugo and his followers as stand-ins for the leaders of today, who refuse to acknowledge the reality of thinks like climate change or income inequality—problems that, if left unchecked, will lead to cataclysmic societal collapse. It is a bleak topic for Adventure Time to meditate on, but at least the episode ends on a positive note, with BMO's actions proving that with the right leader(s) and enough people working together, otherwise powerless individuals can topple oppressive regimes and begin to right the wrongs that have been made by the bourgeoisie (if you’ll allow me to invoke the ol’ Marxist term). Now, "BMO" admits that such reformation is one that will require many sacrifices, but nevertheless, the special does emphatically assert that it is possible. And in the hellscape that is 2020, this is a message of hope that so many need to hear.

In addition to social depth, there's quite a bit of existential nuance to this episode, too. Perhaps the most striking scene in the entire special is the scene wherein BMO is torn apart and—for all intents and purposes—dies. It is a chilling scene made all the more haunting by the return of BMO's rainbow personae (last seen in season seven's "The More You Moe, the Moe You Know"), who urge BMO to accept death ("Now your job is to be dead") and recognize that the robot has failed in its mission to be a true hero. (As pointed out to me on Reddit, the scene stylistically echoes an eerie bit of dialogue from Portal 2, wherein GLaDOS tells you: “I have a sort of black-box quick-save feature: In the event of a catastrophic failure, the last two minutes of my life are preserved for analysis. I was ... forced ... to relive you killing me. Again and again. Forever." Talk about horrific!) Thankfully—in the spirit of the hero's journey—BMO bounces back from the brink of oblivion, proving that even in the bleakest of moments, all of us can be heroes.

Or something like that.

All in all, “BMO” was an enjoyable romp that dropped us back into a magical world we all love. While I wouldn’t say that the special was mind-blowing, it succeeded in its mission of telling a new story in a new place, while focusing on a character whom Adventure Time fans care deeply about.

Here’s looking to “Obsidian!”

Mushroom War Evidence: When it comes to the Mushroom War mythos, this episode was full of a lot of little details. CGO’s monologue reveals that, indeed, Earth was ravage by numerous nuclear weapons; what is more, it seems that some sort of doomsday weapon vaporized part of the Earth, leaving that gaping scar in the planet that has for so long fascinated the show’s mythology-junkies. It is also explicitly state that Hugo and his ilk were humans who fled Earth during the Mushroom War to escape certain destruction.

Final Grade:

Also, while I have your attention: Book update! As some of you might already know, over the last year and a half, I’ve been working on a book all about the history and production of Adventure Time! It’s been an absolute blast, and I’ve been lucky enough to talk to quite a few of the folks who worked on the show (including people like Tom Herpich, Jack Pendarvis, Pat McHale, and Rebecca Sugar). I’m in the final stages of type-setting, and should hopefully have the book ready to go within the next few weeks. Here’s a sneak peek of cover (please ignore the faint InDesign lines; they won’t be in the finished product):

Originally, I was going to publish this work through McFarland and Company, but then Cartoon Network got all pissy (long story short: I reached out to Rebecca Sugar and Adam Muto, got in contact with both of ‘em, and asked some questions about Bubbline. Rebecca responded and and confirmed that Bubbline was intended to be canon when she boarded “What Was Missing” but structural homophobia prevented it from being explicitly declared as such. This revelation made CN PR reeeeeaaally uncomfortable and they threatened to sic the lawyers), so I’m now going to be publishing through the University of Kansas Libraries. The good news is that the work will be free to download, and easily accessible! Yay! That said, if you want a hard copy of the book, I’ll post details about that in a bit. Anyway, keep your eyes peeled!

[amarabliss]

Oaths and Hearts - 9 (Ignis Scientia/Reader)

So this is a crossover between FFXV and Dragon Age Inquisition.

You fell through a rift into the fade fighting the demons you swore to protect your world from. When you popped out you were no longer in the lands of Ferelden instead trapped in Insomnia. The gracious king allowed you to say recognizing power when he saw it. One thing led to another and now you were part of the procession of the prince to his wedding years later. Before the final battle, after years of fighting, losses, and love…your friend…your king…Noctis has asked you to change it all…

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

“So, you think you’re going to forgive her?” Noct looked at his friend across the table. He’d been spending his evenings with is three companions every night before retiring to his wife. Habits were hard to break, but Luna didn’t seem to mind his absence too much.

All eyes fell on Ignis as he took in a deep breath, “I already have.”

“Really? Cause…it kinda seems like you haven’t.” Prompto made a face looking at everyone else, “I mean, am I right?”

Gladio shrugged a little, “I mean…he’s been over every day this last week…”

“Yeah, but he barely showed up for two weeks because of all the meetings we’d been going to.” Noct rebutted.

“This is true, and she was pretty upset about it if I recall.” Gladio nodded slowly avoiding Ignis’ concerned look. Gladio did not tell him what the two of you had spoke of, and Ignis didn’t have the heart to ask when the evidence showed you to be forgetting.

“Uh yeah…she definitely was. When I went to see her, she was definitely crying before she opened the door.” Prompto informed everyone. He saw that everyone was waiting for him to continue, so quickly he looked Ignis, “She tried to play it off…but it was pretty obvious. So, dude, you have got to actually tell her that you forgive her.”

Ignis turned his gaze to the young blond as he spoke quietly, “She was crying? Did she say what was wrong specifically?”

“I- didn’t actually ask…” Prompto made a face as his shoulders slumped with his self-confidence, “I’m really not…good…with…you know…”

Ignis looked at the rest of them concern creasing his brow, “Has she done so with everyone?”

All three of them shifted uncomfortably before Gladio spoke with a sigh, “Iggy, she’s been through a lot…she’s got a lot to lose if you don’t forgive her. It’s easy for her to find a reason to cry.”

“I understand that, believe me, I know all that she lost.” Ignis frowned thinking about how you told him everything. It had been nearly a week since you remembered anything from your former life. He’d asked you several pertinent questions and each one you looked at him confused and frustrated, “She’s even lost some of her ability to read.”

“Damn…” Noct shook his head before looking out the window, “As much as I know how we owe her…perhaps its for the better that she forgets.”

Everyone looked at the young king as he took in a deep breath before he sighed leaning forward, “I mean…I think I would want to forget and be the me before everything went to hell. Everything she told you about the world during that ten years sounded awful.”

“Yes…most of it…but not all of it.” Ignis stood up looking at his empty coffee mug.

“I didn’t mean…” Noct looked at him apologetically.

“I know.” Ignis smiled at him before it turned into a frown, “Last week she began to forget more rapidly…I asked her about the one person that matter to her most and she…she looked at me confused. Regardless, I imagine she will be her bright and cheery self in no time.”

“She’s always been like that hasn’t she?” Prompto smiled at him as he remembered something, “I didn’t get to know her like you guys did before we left Insomnia. She lost everything then, was she so cheerful then?”

Ignis smiled at him an image of you walking through the halls with him appearing his mind, “Yes, she’s always been on the positive side of things. Even when we told her she didn’t have to be…she said it had become a habit of leading.”

“Leading what? I mean, she’s mentioned she was part of a rebel force a couple times…sounds kind of cool!” Prompto looked at them all expectantly.

“Iggy that’s your field of expertise.” Gladio smirked watching his friend prepare a cup of coffee, “You’re the one who interrogated her for over a year.”

“It was not an interrogation.” Ignis rolled his eyes as he shook some sugar packets, “It was a conversation…”

“Call it was you like, my father asked you to spy for him.” Noct told him, “It made sense to do so…no one faults you.”

Ignis let out an uncomfortable sigh as he poured coffee into his cup followed by the sugar, “To answer your question, Prompto, her title was Inquisitor and she lead a large force against a very powerful and dangerous man who wished to destroy her world.”

“And she did it?” Prompto shifted forward on his seat.

“Yes…she’s insistent on making sure everyone knows she didn’t do it alone. She had a group of close individuals, rather like us, who supported her, and she felt she needed to be a positive force for them.” Ignis smiled a little stirring the contents of the cup again remembering back to you and him conversing outside his office on the balcony, “She’s said once she accepted the role of Inquisitor it changed everything. All eyes fell on her and she needed to be a light. She was considered a pariah among the masses because of her abilities and yet despite it all she was compassionate and inspired hope. She saved countless souls.”

“Whoa…” Prompto sat there trying to imagine you leading an army before he turned to Noct, “You should talk to her and get some pointers.”

“Hey!” Noct scowled kicking his chair getting everyone to laugh, “I do just fine.”

“If you’d like to know more, I encourage you to talk to her. Y/N has never shied away from telling people about her past when she could.” Ignis told him with a smile, “Her history is full of wonder and beauty. I’ve been honored enough that she’s included me in some of her more personal affairs that she still wishes to practice.”

“So, you listened to her story and fell in love with her.” Prompto smirked at him watching the logical man’s face turn red as he returned to his seat with a fresh cup of coffee.

“I…found her interesting, yes.” Ignis raised the cup to hide his smile, “I was fortunate when she accepted my offer to take her to dinner.”

“He was such a mess leading up to that day.” Ignis glared at Gladio as he recalled the events smirking wildly, “I have never seen Iggy so nervous. This guy can go before the entire senate and propose radical legal changes regarding Galahd citizens but asking a lady out about killed him.”

“I cannot picture that. You’re so cool all the time!” Prompto told him making his friend look away, “Iggy seriously! You had nothing to worry about, you still don’t! I bet if you walked over there right now and asked her to dinner she’d say yes.”

“Of course, she would say yes, they’re already dating.” Noct stood up pushing Prompto’s head a little, “I gotta go…”

“I’ll walk you.” Ignis stood up thankful to find a way out of the spotlight. He grabbed his coat and followed Noct out.

They walked in silence for a while before Noct looked at him, “He wasn’t wrong though.”

“Pardon?” Ignis looked at him. It wasn’t often that Noct took to personally talking to one of his friends about personal affairs.

“If you asked Y/N out, she’d say yes.” Noct smiled at him raising a finger up tapping his cheek, “Maybe it would be a good way to start over. You haven’t really had a date since before all this started, right?”

Ignis sighed feeling irritated with the subject, “Why is everyone so worried about what we do?”

Noct stopped, staring up into his eyes, becoming very serious, “Because you’re both hurting…and we love you guys. You both sacrificed so much when you took this journey on. Then apparently, I was the asshole who asked Y/N, to come back and fix things…”

“You did not do anything, Noct.” Ignis told him quietly placing a hand on Noct’s shoulder, “That much is clear…that Noctis never really existed, and only now does so on paper.”

“Well, that doesn’t change that we care about you, and we want to see the two of you be happy.” Noct told him with a smile, “I bet she’d like it if you took her out, you know, get her out of that stuffy suite she’s been in for the past month.”

“She’s complained?” Ignis pulled on his jacket his expression full of worry, “I ask her, but I fear she’s trying to make herself amenable.”

“Not in so many words, but Luna has said she seems a bit stir crazy. Her leg is as healed as it’s going to get.” Noct told him shoving his hands into his pockets, “A change of scenery and some conversation might do you both some good. Even if it’s just a walk around the city.”

“I assure you I am doing quite well.” Ignis told him getting Noct to laugh, “Whatever is so humorous?”

“You are very good at what you do, Ignis.” Noct stopped outside his door smiling at his retainer and friend, “But Insomnia is in ruins…we will need Accordo’s help as well as Duscae which will all take time. The secretary has already told us the earliest assistance she can give us will be in three months. I’m thankful she is allowing us to remain. In that time…you should relax a little.”

“Is that an order, your majesty?” Ignis sighed heavily.

“It’s a suggestion, my friend.” Noctis smiled at him patting him on the arm, “Goodnight, Specs.”

Ignis watched him enter the room hearing Luna greeting him warmly on the other side. He couldn’t help but smile a little as he moved away. Perhaps everyone was right. He hadn’t just come out and said he'd forgiven you. Perhaps it was time to put everything away and start where they had left off back in Insomnia.

It was much later that evening he found himself outside your door. He was not good at this sort of thing, but he didn’t know if he’d have the initiative again. Clearing his throat, he knocked. There was the sound of movement and rustling behind the door before it opened.

You stared up at him surprised, your hair was loose over one shoulder down for the night. Your eyes were bright with wonder as you spoke, “Ignis, is-is something wrong? Is everyone…”

“Yes…no…um everyone is fine.” He shook his head watching as you pulled your robe around yourself, “I just…I came by to see you.”

“You…me? Whatever for?” You tilted your head a little, “I think I’ve told you everything I can…”

“Yes…” He nodded slowly staring at you before he spoke again, “That’s not why I came.”

“It isn’t?” Your face flushed a little.

“No, I was hoping you’d like to take a walk with me, but I see you’re ready for bed.” He found himself clearing his throat again, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come so late. I’ll let you retire…”

“Wait.” You reached out grabbing onto his arm lightly, “Just…come in.”

He felt his heart thump against his chest as he stepped inside. You smiled at him, “Give me a moment to get something more suitable on.”

“Alright.” He took a seat in the living room as you shut the doors to the bedroom. He stared at the doors for a moment before tearing his eyes away before his imagination got the better of him.

His eyes landed on the table at an open book with a picture on it. He leaned forward to see the image better finding it was a hand drawn picture of Lady Lunafreya. He picked up the book and began flipping through the pages seeing chocobos, each person you'd met along the away in their journey hastily sketched but still resembling them, and monsters you fought with them. There were even detailed portraits of each of them, with little notes in the margins in a language he didn’t recognize.

The further he went back the less and less he began to recognize the people and images. They went from Insomnia to stone ruins and fantasy looking people. The more he looked the more tear stains he began to see. He stopped on a strong looking individual. His face was square, scar above the lip, wavy hair, and a determined look in his eyes.

“Cullen. One of my advisors.” He jumped looking at you standing in the doorway, “I told you about him.”

“You did.” He nodded looking at you for a moment longer knowing this man had been a hard topic for you to share with him. He never pried it from you, but he assumed that you had a relationship with this man, and it had been a deep one at one point in your life. He smiled a little before he looked back at the image, “I’ve known you for almost six years now, yet I never knew you could draw…”

“It’s something I picked up again after I arrived here. I learned when I was younger, a lady of the house needed an occupation to be respectable, but when you get put in the Circle, you have to give up a lot.” You stepped over to him flipping the pages back looking at your long-lost friends of Thedas, “I didn’t want to forget them, and I had the time to remember them in the beginning.”

“You still find ways to surprise me.” He watched you run a hand over the page of a hooded woman, “I’m sorry if I wasn’t supposed to look. I was just taken by the image of Lunafreya…”

“It’s alright…” You looked at him smiling a little, “I don’t want keep anything from you.”

He licked his lips staring at you for a moment again before he handed the book to you gently. The enormity of your words struck his heartstrings loudly, but instead of expressing so, “You should grab a sweater.”

“Is it cold out tonight?” You shut the book setting it back down on the coffee table seemingly unaffected by the suddenly shift in conversatoin.

“No, not in the city.” He smiled at you waiting by the door.

“You have piqued my curiosity Sir Ignis.” You smirked a little grabbing a light shawl from the chair, “Wherever are we going?”

“It’s a surprise.” He opened the door watching you stop in front of him.

Your eyes narrowed a little, “You don’t do surprises…you don’t like not having an idea of the outcome.”

He let out a small sigh before reaching down taking your hand in his, you knew him quite well, “I am hopeful of this outcome…”

Your expression was hard for him to read, but he gave you no time change your mind as he pulled you gently through the door with him. The walk was silent but not uncomfortable as you strolled next to him through the streets hand still locked with his.

You never questioned him once until he began leading down to the docks where royal vessel was at rest. You tugged on his hand a little, “Ignis��”

“Don’t worry, we’ll be back in a little while.” He squeezed your hand helping you aboard.

“You know I don’t particularly care for boats.” You smiled as he jumped on after you.

“I do remember your aversion to water.” He gave you small smirk as he walked over toward the controls turning the boat on. He felt you come and stand right next to him shifting the shawl around yourself, “I told you to bring a sweater.”

“You didn’t say we would be going out on to open waters.” You pointed out to him with a small scowl.

“Well that would ruin the surprise…” He glanced at your seeing your lips curve upward. He was glad he was still able to do that.

He backed the boat out easily and set off toward his destination. You remained quietly next to him the breeze from the movement blew your hair around your face making you close your eyes. It gave him time to look at you and collect his racing thoughts. He didn’t know exactly what to anticipate once they arrived at the destination. Would you still want him the way he longed for you?

He slowed the boat down letting it coast for a moment before cutting the engine, “Here we are…”

“And where might here be?” You asked him as you pushed your hair back in place.

“One of the city officials told me of a spot that is most beautiful. I thought we could both use a change of scenery.” He reached up moving a stray strand away from your face behind your ear. The intimate gesture caused you to lock eyes with him, “It’s called the Leviathan’s eyes…”

He took you by the hand again leading you to the back of the boat to see what he was talking about. You audibly gasped when you looked over the boat’s edge, “Its beautiful…”

The water danced with glowing lights. Almost as if the stars above seemed to have decided to take a dip. He smiled watching you become fascinated by the spectacle, “It is wondrous, isn’t it?”

“How does it work?” You looked to him a wild curiosity filling your gorgeous eyes, “Is it a creature of some kind?”

“It’s a small organism, plankton.” He smiled at you watching your eyes widened before looking back at the water, “Does it take the magic away, knowing what it’s is?”

“No, understanding what it is, makes it all the more magical.” You grinned as you spoke, “This world is full of such rich inhabitants. If something so small can glow and be special, imagine what everything else could be?”

“I suppose you’re right.” He stared into the water for a moment before he spoke again, “Would you care for something to drink?”

You looked up as he moved over to a small basket, he’d fastened to the seat earlier before coming to you, “I…yes…please.”

He uncorked a bottle of wine pouring out two glasses before stepping back to you. He handed one to you, “Here you are.”

“Thank you, it seems you prepared everything.” You stared at him as you took a sip.

“I was hoping we could use the opportunity to try starting where we left off.” He twirled the stem of the glass between his fingers staring back trying to choose his words carefully, “I know this last month has been…”

As he teetered off you jumped in, “Awkward, awful, uncomfortable…”

He found himself chuckling, “Yes, all of that.”

“But…” You locked eyes with him waiting for him to continue.

“I miss you.” He whispered unaware of how he grew closer to you, “I miss our moments…alone…your glances from across the campfire. The gentle grazing of our hands when walking next to one another all crying out for more attention.”

“We’ve been alone a lot this past week…” You murmured resting your glass on the railing of the ship.

“Yes, in a way…but there was always something hanging in air, this unfathomable situation, stopping us from seeing one another…an invisible force…” His hand came to rest on your side when his forehead met yours staring into your eyes longingly, “I'm tired of dancing around everything.”

“I feel the same, I just thought maybe…you needed the time.” You swallowed as your nose bumped into his, “I didn’t want you to feel pressured…”

“I did need the time…I was hurt, but I never doubted your actions. I never doubted you.” His glass came to rest next to yours letting his hand become free to cup your face, “My love for you hasn’t faded away, if anything it grew to want to protect you more. I never want you to face such decisions alone again. I want to face it with you.”

Your smile gave him a peace he hadn’t felt since before all this started. Your lips parted as if to say something but the opportunity to kiss you was too much to pass up. A small noise of surprise escaped you making him push further letting his hand move up into your hair.

Six above you made him feel out of control. The very taste of you ignited a fire inside of him. Feeling the heat of your hands through his shirt brought him out of the kiss. He had to slow down, he didn’t want to tempt fate too much. Swallowing he cleared his throat, “…Y/N…”

“Yes…” Your eyes were shut as you nudged his nose with yours.

He found himself chuckling, “I have no words…”

Your eyes opened finally, and he found himself lost. He reached up moving away some hair from your face. You smiled at him leaning into his touch, “That was…a good start.”

“Yes, yes it was.” He smiled holding your face in his hands just looking at you. Trying to etch the moment into his mind.

“Ignis, you act like I’m going to disappear on you?” You put your hands over his as worry crept into your lovely pools.

“I know…” He pressed his forehead against yours, “You...you scared me so much that day. I saw you up there… near that rift and I thought I was losing you.”

You squeezed his hands frowning, “I’m so sorry, I ran out of ideas and I didn’t have the time to weigh the consequences.”

“Y/N, you are my light…” He whispered as he watched your eyes widened, “I know you have been for so many others, but you are my light and I can’t lose you…”

“What do you mean?” He looked away a little before smiling at you, “What?”

“There has always been something about you that…has been…different, and it isn’t just you coming from an entirely different world.” He took your hands in his pulling you to the couch on the deck to sit, “I’ve always seen it…you glow in a way that others don’t. Your very essence is a light.”

“Glow…are you talking about auras? Ignis,” You crinkled your eyebrows slightly disbelieving what you were hearing, “I didn’t think you believed in those types of things.”

“I didn’t believe in beautiful women falling from the sky either, but you’ve done that twice.” He smirked when you laughed a little, “But really, there are these moments when I see you and…and it’s like look at a star.”

He watched as you eyes twinkled as he explained, “A soft light, shining through the worst moments, letting me see everything clearly. Then I know everything is just as it needs to be, because you’re there.”

“The worst moments?” You leaned back against the couch concern falling on your shoulders.

“Not always, but it seems to be when you shine the brightest. You like to give people hope.” He smiled at little, “But…I can’t explain it. I just know I’m drawn to it.”

You smiled at him as he leaned closer to you. An action that would have inevitably ended in a kiss had his phone not gone off. He shut his eyes with a heavy sigh apologizing as he pulled out his phone. His eyes began to scan over a text when you spoke hesitantly, “Ignis…I need to talk to you about…something.”

“I’m afraid it will have to wait.” He looked at you a seriousness falling over his features, “Neiflhiem is on its way here.”

[lgbt-ffxv-imagines]

Gladio finds out abt Prom’s unhealthy weightloss routine and /kicks his ass/

It starts with one less thing for dinner. No fries, swapping out his soda for a tall glass of water. He skips out on calorie counting for a while. 

Prompto starts running a week in. He looks up tutorials, instructions on how to lose weight and exercise consistently. His lungs burn nearly worse than his body does the morning after. 

He takes “progress pictures,” glaring down at himself like he’s something other instead of just a kid who enjoys a good burger more than an apple. He wants to burn the photos so badly that he starts counting calories to see how far he has to go.

Really, he’s not doing too badly for himself, Prompto finds. He changes his usual foods to things with lower calorie counts, usually more fruits and vegetables than processed fast food, in pursuit of a thinner appearance. He’s still hungry, though, and the burger place he passes on his way home taunts him. 

He decides a five hundred calorie deficit isn’t enough. 

There’s nothing wrong with eating things with lower amounts of fat, skipping simple carbs like bread and replacing them with veggies clumsily chopped and tossed together into a bowl in a basic imitation of a salad. He’s read up on weight loss forums and watched videos about HIIT exercise routines that claim to help him “blast fat away” like magic. 

By the time he’s finished secondary school, he’s shot up like a rocket and thinned out like its vapor trail. 

He’s down to around a thousand two hundred calories a day, weight landing somewhere around maybe fifty-five kilograms on when he gives in and eats more than he should. The running helps him keep to it even when he lacks control (when he’s being fat, his brain likes to spit. Not worth talking to the Lady Lunafreya���s Noctis).

It’s honestly funny to him when Noctis asks him why he doesn’t eat more at lunch (half a salad and a boiled egg are plenty, thank you very much) when he’s already coasting far over his limit more and more often when they hit the arcade, or hang out after class. The chips and pizza are cluttering his tracking app with fat and failure. 

He starts making excuses, runs longer distances, spends so much time exercising and ignoring how easy it would be to grab the cereal his mom always picks up when they go grocery shopping and pour himself a big bowl of it that he’s nearly able to eke his way down to fifty even. 

Noctis just puts all his vegetables on Prompto’s napkin during lunch and raises a brow whenever he tries to insist that no, I’m full, okay, buddy? He knows not to press it after Prompto makes an excuse or two about stomach aches.

Meeting Noctis’s shield is like staring at the human equivalent to a chiseled brick wall. Gladiolus Amicitia is a powerhouse Prompto is exactly one hundred percent sure could snap him in half like a twig. He’s decently sure Gladio could wrap both his hands around his waist without issue. It’s about as comforting as it is distressing. There is absolutely nothing Gladiolus couldn’t do to keep him from Noctis if the prince ever got tired of him. 

He tries even harder to be worthy. 

There are a few long months where he sleeps in too much and feels like there’s cotton stuffed in his head, but then Gladiolus snaps him out of it with a stern, “And what do you think you’re doing there, Prom?”

He looks back to his water bottle and tries for an excuse, “Hydrating?”

“After an hour and a half of intensive Crownsguard training?”

“Yep,” he says, trying for a smile. “Can’t let that pizza from yesterday keep me from being a good member of Noct’s ‘Guard, right?”

Gladiolus frowns. “You had half a bite.” He crosses his arms and waits for some sort of explanation. 

Prompto flounders before pulling his usual, “Well, I’m not really supposed to be eating it. It gives me stomachaches.”

It’s not quite a lie. The guilt makes him ill, sometimes enough he feels he may lose what little food he’s consumed, and he knows he’s supposed to be better than that─to be better than his want need for food.

His parents are good to him, if super busy, and they’d asked him if he was alright. They’d made sure he had lots of things left around the house he can snack on out of worry that maybe there wasn’t enough in the pantry for him to eat quickly while doing schoolwork. He’d found a way to foist the worst of them onto Noctis instead. 

Gladiolus stares him down not unlike the way his mom had, unimpressed and worried. “Then, what can you eat? If it’s a stomach issue, or an intolerance, Iggy needs to know.”

“It’s not that it’s just-y’know how Noct told you that we’ve gone to school together since forever?”

“Yeah and?”

Prompto sighs, tired and very much aware of how badly he’s been doing in university as of late, and admits, “I used to be fat.” He spits it like poison. Gladiolus just shrugs. 

“And?”

“What do you mean ‘and?’“

He sits down next to prompto on the metal locker room bench and comments, “We know. Background checks and all that tend to unearth that sort of stuff.”

Prompto groans like he’s dying and flops backward to lean on the wall. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Nope,” Gladiolus replies, smiling genially. “You know I used to be a beanpole?”

Prompto sputters, half to delirium because they’ve known for years and never said anything about it. “I can't believe that. No way. Gladiolus Amicitia, the Citadel’s beefiest Shield to date, was a skinny kid.”

“I ate like hell and never gained an ounce,” Gladiolus admits. “It was really frustrating when I was trying to bulk up because puberty tossed my metabolism even further into overdrive. I tried following a lot of diets and tutorials, y’know. Only succeeded in making myself really fuckin’ sick. You’re doing practically the same thing I did, so I’m gonna stop you right here.”

“You were the opposite-”

Gladiolus silences him with a wholly unimpressed look. “We both made some bad decisions. The problem here is that you’re still making them,” he states, running a hand through his hair. “None of us want to see you land yourself in the hospital, Prom. Especially not for something we can prevent.”

“But what about Noct? I mean, why does he hang out with me if he knows I was...like that,”  Prompto asks. 

“Like what? A normal kid?” Gladio raises a brow. “I thought you knew Noct doesn’t care about appearances. He’s made that abundantly clear, blondie.”

Prompto struggles for words, settling on a mumbled, “But what do I do now?”

Gladiolus takes a minute and mulls it over before answering brightly, “Well, I’m sure Ignis wouldn’t mind helping you figure out a nutritional plan. We need you to be in top form if you’re gonna protect Noct. That includes eating properly.”

“Would that really be okay?” Prompto’s brain says it’s not, that once he starts to gain anything back that they’ll find him disgusting. He decides that, for once, he’ll ignore it in full. He gives a tentative and lopsided smile. 

Gladiolus grins and it’s near blindingly bright. “Hell yeah it is, Prom. C’mon, I’m sure Ignis was already counting on you joining us for dinner. I doubt his highness has even started on his trig homework without you there to help him through it.”

“Okay. I’ll...do my best.”

“That’s good enough for me,” Gladiolus says with a pat to the back. “You’re one hell of a man, y’know that?”

Prompto squawks, trying to deflect the compliment only to get slammed with fifteen others and a well meaning ruffle to his already wild hair. 

This can work, he thinks. If Noct would be okay with him being heavier, if Gladio and Ignis won’t poke fun at him over it, he thinks he’ll be able to at least give it a try. 

That night, after a good dinner and hours of even better company, Prompto is pretty sure that the guilt may never leave, that he may never be free of the toxicity he’s built into himself, but the way Noct hoots and hollers at the video games they play is a good enough distraction as any. He lets himself forget about calories and counting and deficits until the morning when Ignis stops by and tells Noctis that no, he cannot drink a whole liter of chocolate milk for breakfast. 

Then, it’s just funny how the Crown Prince of Lucis is cowed by his own advisor’s lecture about proper nutrition all the while wearing half a milk mustache he’s still too sleepy to wipe off in full. 

[dktakes12-blog]

Sightless

The warmth of the fire hit Ignis' knees, harsh enough to cause an itchy burn on his skin. A tiny price to pay for having the King at his side once again. He would gladly endure a thousand worse feelings if it meant a few more moments with Noctis. If he let himself think about it, he had already endured far worse.

"I've got the clean up, Specs. Just hang tight." The camping chair creaked under Noct's shifting weight and the crunch of gravel under thick rubber soles told Ignis all he needed to know.

The Advisor stood as well. "No need. You are the King. Rest and allow me to deal with the frivolous duties." Just like old times. But this time, you offered. My, what a man you've grown into.

The laugh left Noct easily, much like their earlier years. Ignis could picture it clearly even though the memory had faded like a worn photograph. Noct's laugh always started with a crinke at the corner of his eyes, an upturn of his lip, before bursting into the board stroke of a smile. It was a sight he could only remember with a young man's face. And, perhaps, it was better that way when things to come were considered.

The clatter of dishes being gathered, Ignis followed the sound easily. The fire warmed his right side and, judging by the paces he had taken and the atrocious snoring, they had settled at Gladio's chair. Ignis reached out and his fingers brushed Gladio's bare arm before fingernails clanged against the cool glass of a beer.

Noct snorted. "Yeah, take out the recycling after offering to do the dishes. Real smooth."

"Well I wasn't aware of what he was drinking." There was no spite between them. It was as if they had been standing side by side for years instead of mere days.

A ruffle of fabric indicated a shrug or perhaps a generalized shift in posture. Ignis could never be quite sure about that anymore. A stack of plates was pressed to his chest and he grasped them without complaint.

"...do you even remember what things look like anymore?" Sadness twisted thickly in Noct's voice. It was a deep beast, one that couldn't have been new. After everything that had happened over the years, Ignis couldn't blame the man.

Man...what an odd thing to deem the boy you once took as a younger brother.

"Some things are clearer than others. It has been ten years after all." Noct's fingers brushed his elbow, leading him to the wash basin Gladio had set up on the other side of the camp. Ignis needed no assistance. He had memorized the set up of the camp through sound and touch hours before. But he had no right to deny the King such small comforts as assisting a friend.

"Tell me about them. The vivid ones." Water splashed and the pile of plates in his hands lessened with each small clatter. The King was a man of responsibility now. The ache in Ignis' chest was stronger than he would have thought possible.

"The sea. I cannot remember the colour exactly, but I know it would match the sky when the sun shone. Almost impossible to tell water from air, I'd navigate by the feel of metal cutting through water. When the sun set, on clear nights, it would mirror the stars. An easy sight to get lost in. I felt as if I was standing next to the Astrals themselves, throwing myself to fate and knowing there was a plan of action. It may have been one I was unaware of, but it existed in the eyes of the Gods. The sea, the stars, is their throne room. I had the blessings to stand inside it."

The scrap of cloth against plastic cut through the dim sight in his mind's eye. Grasping at sight wasn't an exercise he was used to and now he realized how weak the images were. He was losing touch with a part of his world that had once been all of it.

"Another?" Only a hint of hesitation lay in Noct's voice as he reached for another plate in Ignis' hands.

"As you wish." He paused for a moment, lips turned in a frown, before speaking. "The Regalia. The dark leather of the wheel and the smooth run of pavement under tires. Mirror gloss finish on the hood, those absurd decals you insisted on painting the doorways with. What were they again?" A pang tickled the inside of his ribs. The Regalia had been so important to him, to all of them, yet he couldn't even remember what was sealed to the side of the smooth finish. He couldn't pull it out of the bitter fuss of his memories.

"It was the four of us but 8-bit. I won the design in a contest." The smile was in Noct's voice again, in the way the young King flicked water from his fingertips and stacked the last of the clean dishes.

"Ah. I remember now." But Ignis didn't. He couldn't pull the colour to his mind's eye or recall the exact shape each of their figures must have taken.

Noct's silence filled the gentle shuffle of the breeze. The bubble and hiss of daemons spawning overran what should have been the peaceful chirp of crickets and the stir of wildlife in the bushes. Their world had changed in the time it took Noct to return from the Crystal. It had changed more than Ignis' growing fondness for the dark and his lack of clarity.

"Another. if you please." Noct cleared a stiffness in his throat. The sharpness of tears layered the ends of his words and Ignis kept his tongue still. He was blind; he had no right to comment on things he should not know of.

"Shall we move back to the fire before it dwindles?" He turned before he could receive an answer. Best to leave him with some dignity. Ignis settled himself back in his chair, careful to count the paces in his head from Gladio's snoring to seat.

He settled in the camp chair; familiar half-plastic lining cushioned his back and the warmth from the fire had dimmed to more comfortable levels. He clasped his hands together in his lap. Noct's chair shifted beside him as the King joined. Ignis could practically hear the weariness the man suffered.

It's almost over, Noctis. All of this. You'll rest soon with her. The blessing of the Astrals and, perhaps, their curse watch over you.

Ignis picked the clearest memory he could recall. He squeezed his eyes shut; a silly notion to bring the words and the feelings closer in his mind's eye.

"White tile. Always cool to the touch of skin but never unpleasantly so. Worn leather bound pages. Across each ivory page are hundreds of words. Each one is a different tale, some of knights and princesses others of dragons and terrible endings. There was an inkling of truth to all of them, a foretelling of what was to be. But...we were just children then.

"The sheets are a dark, royal blue. They're pulled up under your nose as you listen to them. I read by moonlight, a silver that strained my eyes. It didn't matter. We were brothers and I cared for my younger sibling. I would read, one eye on the page and the other on your chest in the blankets, and mark the space where you fell asleep with my thumb. There were nights were you'd reach out and grasp the length of my sleeve, delicate fabrics as I didn't like rougher things, and cling to it. As if I was your mother instead of who I am...I never pulled away then."

The crackle of the fire struck him then. A harsh snap pulled Ignis out of the memory as a log snapped and broke. It was fitting he supposed. There were no more new memories to be made. It was one that would fade much like the rest. One he would try to cling to, always, despite the futility of it.

Much like clinging to Noct. Perhaps. But always meant something to Ignis. A promise to a dying King and a brother in a Prince. He had no wish to give it up now despite the ending he knew was coming.

"...thanks Iggy." It was half a whisper, one he wouldn't have caught if he hadn't been used to locating his world through sound.

"Always, my King."

~ Iggy and Noct feels. I prefer the brothers relationship because I have such a fondness for this type of non-romantic devotion and damn right am I gonna play with it.

Want more fic? Has more fic. ~ K

[hickorywind]

tagged by: @disiintegration (thank you!!)

write down the next 10 songs that come up on shuffle and your fav lyrics: 

1. freedom - wham!:   Like a prisoner who has his own key But I can't escape until you love me

2. i’ll never find another you - the seekers: If they gave me a fortune My pleasure would be small. I could lose it all tomorrow And never mind at all

3. the great pretender - brian eno: Lose the sense of time, nail down the blinds And in the succulent dark, there's a sense of ending

4. afraid - nico: Cease to know or to tell Or to see or to be your own Have someone else's will as your own

5. broken flag - patti smith: Weaving though the eyes pale What will rend will also mend The sifting cloth is binding And the dream she weaves will never end

6. these things take time - the smiths:  either I'm spellbound, but a woman divides And the hills are alive with celibate cries or My eyes have seen the glory of the sacred wonderkind

7. listen - generation x: You're the face upon a playing card A colored painted cold visage

8. shades - iggy pop: You gave me a present The paper was blue and green I unwrapped it with pleasure These are the best shades I've ever seen

 9. amateur hour - sparks: It's a lot like playing the violin You cannot start off and be Yehudi Menuhin

10. daffodil lament - the cranberries: I have decided to leave you forever  I have decided to start things from here Thunder and lightning won't change what I'm feeling And the daffodils look lovely today

i tag: @luciferpls, @frostflowers, @sugakookieroll, @mitskies, @my-man-syd @joeyramones, and uhhh anyone else that want to do this!

[insomniasix]

The Lady.

Ok, so since I started making my old fics FFXV related, I’ve decided to make all of them as such. I’ll add them to a Masterlist of their own later on. 

This is a piece I created for a competition and I thought it fit perfectly for @nemo-ne-impune-lacessit ‘s Evita Hemlock and Ignis. So I did something with that. 

Some might’ve already read it before (It’s been uploaded before) but I finally fixed some of my own mistakes and added a few more FFXV lines and events in it. 

Words: 2782 | Characters: Evita Hemlock , Six Ulric , Ignis Scientia | Trigger Warnings: Death, Fire, Injury and some more death along the way.

Thank you for taking the time to read! I hope you like it!

“Tell me a little about yourself.” The man with the dirty-blond hair asked.

He’s from Insomnia. Evita was certain because of his accent. Born and raised. You don’t really see psychologist from Insomnia. After the fall, there was only one other she’d come across. Ignis seemed to know a few things though.

Her molten gold eyes kept wondering behind him, following the patterns of the dark green. Under different circumstances, Evita would be mesmerized by his incredible features. A face build by perfect carves and lines, no scars or wrinkles; and those eyes, emerald green and filled with compassion and love, even for the people he didn’t know. Like her.

She wondered for a second. Could a person really carry on with such feelings? Or is it simply part of his job?

She didn’t care about it. She didn’t care about anything anymore!

In any other time, she and her sister, Six, would be rendered speechless under the gaze of such a man.

“He’s the man of your dreams, isn’t he?” she heard her sister’s stern voice.

She’d thought about it a couple of times; a man worthy of her own beauty.

Evita was a young lady, she was to turn twenty on the next week; she didn’t care about that either.

Tall, olive skinned, with golden almond-shaped eyes and coper colored, short, messy hair. Her black streak always being her trademark.

She looked a lot like her mother. Or so she remembered.

She didn’t have time for romance.

Evita and Six grew up alone. They were orphaned at a young age when the apartment they all lived in caught on fire. The flames taking mommy and daddy with them.

That wasn’t the reason she’d decided to visit the psychologist, though. The reason was… a dream!

“Evie?” she heard his calm voice ring inside her ears. It felt like an invisible hand, caressing her away from her dark thoughts, away from the wall her eyes kept staring at; leading her straight to his soft lips.

She wanted to listen to him, hear his advice. Take it, so she could save herself. Or so she thought.

“Daydreaming?” he blessed her with a soft smile.

“There’s no reason to dream anymore.” The words fell from her lips like whisper. She didn’t want the world to listen. The world she’d come to know, was cruel, judging, painful. There was no place in it for her. “The world doesn’t give you a reason to dream.”

“How about life?” the young man asked again, mesmerized by her way of thinking; by the darkness that surrounded her.

“Life is just a game, doc.” She smiled a bitter smile.

“Please, call me Ignis. Would you care to elaborate on that notion? Is life a game for you?” it was incredible, there was nothing but compassion in his voice. No hate, no fear, no dread towards her, her words, her idea of the world.

That was… new.

“Not just for me. For everyone. It’s just a pointless, stupid game, that someone, somewhere came up with. A game where all of us are bound to play by someone else’s rules. Forced to do whatever others tell us. Unable to leave whenever we want; just whenever they get bored of us. When they’ve had enough. We all have our own daemons, but…” she took a few seconds to blink the hot tears away from her eyes, rearranging her thoughts as her eyes darkened “ you can get out of it if she blesses you. If she accepts to put you out of this misery we’ve learned to call life. It’s not always a blessing though. Sometimes, it’s the exact opposite.”

“Who is she?”

Evita smiled wearily “Lady Death. The forbidden child of Shiva and Ifrit. The cursed child; abandoned by the Six Astrals and the world beyond.”

Ignis wrote something on his notebook “So you wish to tell me, Death… is a female figure.”

“Isn’t every wrong thing in the world a female figure?” she smirked “The Original Sin: Eos, Shiva, Leviathan; everything began with them.”

“I am curious,” Ignis continued after nodding at her chain of thought “this… Lady Death, tell me about her. Explain to me, how do you picture her?”

Evita’s look was dead serious the second the words left his lips “I don’t picture her, Iggy.” Her voice strong and low “She’s not a fragment of my imagination. I’ve seen her.”

Ignis’ heart skipped a beat at her words, a certain uneasiness taking its hold on him. He fixed his glasses before continuing “The dream for which you came to me.”

“Not exactly.” She breathed, her eyes falling upon the texture on the wall once more “See, it wasn’t a dream.” She explained what the Lady was for her “A tall figure, young face, a thin yet strong presence. Long dark hair, hugging her body like a vail; and her eyes… milky white and screaming chaos! Spreading terror as they fascinate any soul that dares to look at them. She always wears a long dark tunic, taking extra care not to hide her beautify terrifying face. On her right hand, a scythe, even more monumental than her own form, a shiny blade under which countless souls have fallen! That’s how she answers your song, when you call for her. Her face,” Evita let out a heartening sigh and a shiver run down Ignis’ spine as his blood had started to freeze. He didn’t know why, but something in her words, in the meaning of them, seemed so alive, so real; like he could almost see her, standing by her side “her face is so sad. She doesn’t like what she’s doing. Though, there’s no other way, she, herself, is just another pawn of the Astrals.”

“Stop telling him everything! He doesn’t need to know.” She heard her sister’s voice once again. Six was there, whispering in her ears.

Evita stopped talking.

“Can anyone call for her?” Ignis asked. He was so absorbed by her, he hadn’t written anything down in his notebook. Thinking back on that little detail, he smiled to himself for having pressed the recording button.

Evita didn’t answer. She was waiting for Six’s blessing to do so. The latter didn’t speak. She just walked around the room a little longer. Her silver eyes falling on every single picture and frame the doctor had, hanging on the rooms walls. Pictures of his trip with his friends.

“You can tell me.” Ignis smiled “I don’t plan on calling her anytime soon.”

Evita’s eyes fell on Six’s figure, right behind him, leaning against the dark green wall with her arms crossed in front of her chest.

“Tell him then. I’m not sure Her Highness will be more bothered than I am.”

Evita opened her mouth, as if to say something but closed it right away. She took a small breath, trying to pick the right words “Have you heard of the Swan Song?”

“Yes.” Ignis answered, filled with interest and need for knowledge “Swans sing before they die.”

“That’s just what humans do as well. A little before we die, we let out a soundless scream of sorrow and regret. To her ears, that scream takes the form of a song. A summoning spell.”

“How is it that you have seen her, then?” Ignis thought about her words “You’re still here.”

“It all started when my parents died. I was twelve years old and my sister was fifteen. Our apartment caught on fire because my mother forgot that damn cigarette before dad threw it away.” Six let out a huffed laugh at the thought of one thing leading to another. “It all happened so fast; I can’t recall how fast the fire spread along the house. I just remember… Her! She came for mommy and daddy. She came for me! She lowered herself above me, like a mother, tucking her beloved child in bed before sleep. She whispered how it wasn’t my time, but we were to meet again. She moved so quickly, yet I, like the little child I was, followed. I needed to see; I needed to know what she was doing. Who she was.” She took a breath in, eyes wondering, following her sister’s moving figure; falling on the mesmerized eyes of her listener “They sang for her! I could hear their call. She lowered herself over them, like she’d done for me and; I couldn’t understand why but… she cried for them. It was only a single, heavy tear. When it fell and touched their foreheads, they went silent.”

Ignis was nailed in place. Unable to move, like her words were hands, keeping him down in his seat. Everything he heard, so real. Like he was the one to live through it. Like it was his parents, leaving their last breath in the arms of the dark-dressed woman. Images bombarding his mind; the apartment, the fire, the Lady in black, the shaking of fear and the smell of dread.

“And then,” Evita continued “She opened her ripped black wings and the room went dark.” She mimicked the movement a bird makes when it flatters it’s wings “I woke up in my sister’s arms the next morning. Six never spoke about it, but she’d seen her too. I know. I could see it in her eyes.”

“So tell me, Ignis.” she ordered after a few seconds of silence, her eyes glued to his “How can two kids, who had never felt pain or misery in their lives, dream about such horrid things? How can all this be but a dream? Let me tell you.” she smiled “It’s just another rule. What one cannot understand, must be just a bad dream. ‘Childish Imagination’ the previous doctor called it. ‘A teenager’s dark subconscious’. Six and I know better than that.”

“Talk to me about your sister.” Ignis tried changing the subject, get her mind working on something else “Did she treat you right? Were you happy with her?”

“He’s pushing it.” Six roared, behind gritted teeth. Getting very close to his face while he just sat there, not even flinching; not paying any attention to anything but Evita.

“You’re pushing it, doc.” Evita’s eyes moved from her sister to him “We’re here because of the ‘dream’; not my sister.”

“I’m just trying to understand, Evie. Help me put the pieces together.”

“He’s either very good at his job, or a complete idiot!” Six breathed, raising her eyebrow at him. This time she was sitting in the chair behind him, her intense look not once leaving his figure.

“What should I help you understand?” Evita asked, not paying attention to her sister’s words.

“What brings you here.”

Evita brought Six back to the center of attention, despite her sister’s protests “My sister, Six, is my guardian angel.”

“Is?” Ignis noticed “I thought…”

“You thought right.” Evita cut him off “My sister is dead!”

“We always carry the thought of the ones we lost.” Ignis quoted, fixing his glasses at the bridge of his nose. “Would you tell me how it happened?”

“She was murdered.”

Evita took her time to collect her thoughts while Ignis waited for more information. He pushed her, with his own kind way, so her mind could think of the details, get everything he could out of her. He really wanted to help her move on.

Ignis made a notion with his hand and she continued.

“Her song was beautiful! It was the second time I saw Her. It was a rainy day, back in Insomnia. We hadn’t been back for a year. She went inside the Citadel while I waited with a couple of friends, she had a duty to fulfil. A few moments later, I heard her song and a tear fell down my face. See, the Chancellor of Niflheim was there. He had it out for her ever since she uncovered his plans for the Peace Signing.” Evita looked at the celling, taking a moment for the hot tears to dry out. “And well, here we are.”

“We?” Ignis found himself surprised by her choice of words once again “There’s none other here but you, Evie.”

Evita tilted her head to the side, looking at him with wonder in her eyes “You’re wrong, Ignis.” she said “There’re four of us in this room.”

The blood inside his veins froze solid, terror spreading all over his body. The vision of the young lady he had in front him had changed in an instant. The sweet, innocent version had become cold, like a porcelain doll.

It was only then that he noticed the wounds, scratches and bruises all over her face, neck, arms and legs. There was one, in particular, he got terrified upon noticing. A big wound on her eye! How? When? Why was he noticing them just now?

“What are you saying, Evie?” his voice broke, fear taking the better of him as it consumed his heart and mind.

“You still can’t see her?” Evita smiled a sad smile “She’s right there!” she pointed at the leather couch next to the office’s door.

Ignis’ gaze followed her delicate finger. His eyes instantly falling upon her.

The tall girl with the vail of raven hair and eyes grey as a winter’s cloud. She was dressed in white, just like Evita and she was also covered in wounds and scratches. Ignis’ eyes fell upon the left side of her entire body –the parts he could see anyway. It seemed as if it was still burning. How was that possible? The wound seemed to start at the middle of her cheek, running down to her fingers and toes.

“Hey, Iggy!” Six waved with a smile when he’d finally realized she was actually there as well.

“Who are you?” Ignis raised from his seat “How did you get in here?”

“Get –“ Six sighed while rolling her eyes “I was here from the start. You were just not ready to see us.”

“See… you?” he was starting to lose it, he was sure of it “Evita, what –“

When his eyes fell upon her, Evita’s dress was covered in blood, seemingly running down from the wound on her eye. He run to her side, wanting to help her; but she just stared at his direction, her golden eyes now milky white and her face… nothing like he was expecting.

Ignis expected to come across something. Pain, agony. The only emotion she showed was… regret.

That’s when he remembered.

“Lady Death.” He whispered, feeling his heart ready to burst out.

“Can you see her now?” She asked.

“I…” he’s voice broke at the emotions bombarding his mind “This can’t be happening.” He fell on his knees in front of her.

“It’s all just a dream.” Evita caressed his cheek while she explained as he leaned into her touch “Your way of avoiding the pain. All the stories you heard from me; all yours. The fire, that took your parents when Niflheim attacked Insomnia. The ‘murder’ of your ‘brother’, Noctis. All yours! Your very own Swan Song.”

Ignis’ eyes where filled with agony when he looked at her again “Who are you?”

“I am a Reaper.” She smiled wearily “I’m here to remind you of who you truly are.”

Ignis burst out in tears at her words, realizing it was his time. That this was real.

“Your song is the most beautiful tone I’ve ever heard!” Evita breathed “You truly do not want to die!”

“But you must come with us.” Six stepped in, voice stern and yet breaking for him “Accept the end.”

And then, amongst the pain, the fear and the agony that ripped his heart apart, Ignis saw her standing in the corner, near the exit door.

A dark, shapeless figure; moving closer with every passing second. A single ray of light running along the blade of her scythe.

“My Lady.” He managed to say in between his shallow breaths her sad gaze caused.

‘She doesn’t like what she’s doing.’ He heard Evita’s words in his mind again ‘She’s just another pawn of the Astrals!’

“She’s not here for us, Ignis.” the sisters said in unison, their merged voice caressing his ears like a song “She’s here for you.”

Ignis looked at her through his eyelashes, coming across her haunting, void eyes. She bowed above him and shed a single tear. Suddenly, all the feelings he felt were gone. Pain had become peace, sorrow had become bliss.

It was all over.

But he didn’t care. He didn’t care about anything anymore!

Lady Death stretched her black, ripped wings and darkness fell over the room.

“Death,” she whispered in a haunting screech “is only the beginning.”

Tagging: @nemo-ne-impune-lacessit @mzargentum @nykamito @thedragontamerying @fieryfantasy @ladye11e @glacian-apocalypse @asonataspassions (If you want to be added or removed please let me know! Thank you again!)

[ffxvthingies]

Chocobros in Theatre

For all intent and purposes, this is still FFXV world but playwrights like shakespear and Tennessee Williams, etc, are there. 

The boys are in high school theatre

Prompto-

LOVES theatre

plays? Amazing!

Musicales? Spectacular!

Technical side? WOW!

This boy just *clenches fist* loves theatre

that being said

this boy is not the best dancer

or the best singer

but he certainly tries his damn hardest!

leads everyone in stretches

Goddamn prom how can you do both front and middle splits??

almost always ensemble

doesn’t care

he loves it

he’s always the best damn ensemble because of what he does on stage

but when its a play, he normally casted as the comedic role

he’s goofy and can play the timing well like iggy

loves watching musicales!

“OMG!! look at those lifts!! they’re in perfect sinc!!1!”

always rants about what he saw to Gladio and Iggy

they love it

they love him

who cannot love him??

always makes it a point to be friends with the underclassmen because he knows how it feels to be a timid kid around great actors/actresses

do NOT trust him with building the sets!

homeboy is not good at the technical side

he tries his best n that’s all that matters

always hilarious to try and watch him bring down/up curtains

bringing them down is fairly easy

its bringing them up...

he’ll jump on the rope and dangle

it’s not going anywhere........

gladio or noct always laugh at his struggilng

“guysssssss! help!!”

Noctis helps him down before getting the rope

gladio just grabs it with one hand pulls

prompto is quickly on the ground

but is surprisingly good with all the cutting stuff? like the jigsaw and sawblade??

Noctis is impressed? He’s turned on??

the best worst at shop calls

stationed at the cutting bored like all day

but somehow always manages to get put works somewhere else???

Prompto why are you in the costume room?

“I was getting some cookies from iggy but now i’m helping sew Belle’s dress...”

stop stealing him just because he’s cute!!!

brings his camera to every rehearsal and snaps pics like a madman

put together the collection at the end of the show as a lil movie for everyone to see their progress!

Tries every play to get a Chocobo on stage

no prompto! That’s expensive and dangerous!!

prompto please don’t cry we’ll take you to a chocobo petting zoo :(

 Ignis-

tenor

He is THE theatre guy

almost always the lead

Theatre Mom™

always brings snacks to rehearsals

whenever drama happens he is there to sort it out

handles all complaints about what the director is doing/not doing

not a huge fan of musicales

he’s self conscious about his singing

even though he’s amazing!

normally casted as lead in musicale because that boy can DANCE!

prefers plays

favorite plays are anything written by Tennessee Williams or Neil Simon

also loves shakespear and Moliere

because not only are they works of art in the form of words but they’re HILARIOUS!

the innuendos

the puns

oh god don’t get him started

surprisingly really good at doing comedy??

like he always lands the comedic timing PERFECTLY!

how do u do it specs

tell me your ways

everyone is jealous of his skill and are always asking for advice

iggy always gives the best advice because he wants everyone to be their best!!

helps out costume department whenever possible

able to sew a costume in like 20 minutes flat

the actual costume department people are pissed at him because of this

everyone oogles him when he’s rehearsing

especially prompto

iggy always blushes when prompto compliments him

stop! being! cute!

Gladio-

Bass

LOVES theatre, specifically muscle theatre

favorite musicales are My Fair Lady, Cinderella, Beauty and the Beast-

pretty much any fairytale romance musicale he loves

people are always confused by him because he’s not a technician??

“You’re so big and buff why are you not in tech???”

he does help out building the sets all the time

only one able to to lift a 8″ by 10″ flat on his own

Not always the lead but loves to be involve anyway!

unless the lead is a bass

in that case congratulations gladio!

Not the best dancer

but can waltz like no ones business!!

he and prompto always bug the director about what cool things they saw in other musicales and what they could do

“They did this cool flying fight scene and it was amazing-”

“Yeah and during their big dance break they did this thing where people lept over other people’s shoulders-”

“we could totally do that!!”

.... guys this is my fair lady there is no fight scene

“yeah BUT”

the director loves them

but is also so tired of them

goes to see musicales with prompto

always goes to wait for the cast and tell them how amazing they were!

the girls always gives gladio their numbers

couple of the men too

gladio always points out prompto to them

they all think he’s adorable

most of the time he’s the villian

because they are normally the low singers

doesn’t mind

can be a pretty good villain when needed

oh also

makeup and costume H A T E his tattoo!

always dread when he has to wear a short sleeved costume

easily spends the most time in the makeup chair getting his tattoo covered up

Noctis-

doesn’t prefer the spotlight

one of the head technicians

also one of the best builders

have you seen those videos of the pit crew changing tires in like 10 seconds?

yeah

that’s him but building flats

no one knows how he does it

but the Boys are thankful all the same

they know how much the technicians do and always show their appreciate to them

specifically to Noct bc he does so much

they reward him with sex food or just good ass hugs

whenever him and cindy tag team on something it’s straight up memorizing to watch

they do it so quick an fluid! 

everyone is jealous

though no one really knows what all he does because he’s always asleep???

Noct why are you asleep on the flat? You’ll get sawdust everywhere

noCT GET OFF THE SAWBLADE THAT IS NOT A NAP SPOT!!

loves it when they build a house

because that means there’s couches or beds

which means Nap Time™

this boy is always tired

legit one time fell asleep while putting a screw in

prompto got a picture

he still has it

noctis is also pretty clueless in regards to what... is actually going on in the play

he doesn’t really care

just tell him what he’s building and he’s all good

though sometimes it gives way to some really funny instances

one time he was pushing a set piece out during the show, and was suddenly caught in the middle of a dance number

he was so scared

everyone made fun of him for weeks

had to awkwardly shuffle/dance his way off stage

Bonuses!

Luna is always the female lead

the other girls cant be jealous because she is SO GOOD

her and iggy have great chemistry so they’re always together

so used to kissing him on stage

everyone is always surprised that noct is fine with it bc they think him and luna are dating????

they’re just best friends

a suprano

Cor is the dance director

call him “The Immortal” because they swear he’s been in just about every play

“You were in the original Mary Poppins? You had to be like 17???”

he was 15...

everyone is intimidated by him bc he’s so serious

REALLY dedicated with his work and will chew you tf out if you’re not trying to learn the dance

he can tell

loves Prompto even though he has two left feet and can’t dance for shit

he’s always gentle with him bc he does NOT want to see that sunshine boy sad!!

Ravus is another techie

mostly deals with props

scares the young techies that he lost his arms from being stupid with the saw blade

he didn’t

HATES Noctis!

know one knows why

(he’s jealous of his skill)

but also because he doesn’t appreciate theatre!!

is a theatre nerd

him and iggy discuss plays over tea during break time at shop call

Cindy is their other main builder

super sweet!

and angel

unless you mess with her tools

then run

Nyx and the other glaives are the runners

they can bring sets out in pitch darkness in like 5 seconds flat

its scary

Nyx was also forced to be in the ensemble by Cor because he saw him dancing one time

he loves it

Ardyn is a creepy theatre director from the some theatre company that goes to every single one of their shows

always tries to recruit Noct and Prompto for his company

they’re still in high school you creep!

Ignis and Gladio are quick to shoot him down and escort them safely away

[secretradiobrooklyn]

SECRET RADIO | 10.3.20 & 10.10.20 Combo

Secret Radio | 10.3 & 10.10 | Hear it here.

Liner notes by Evan except *, artwork by Paige

1. The Modern Lovers - “Roadrunner”

Can there be, can there ever be, a better hittin’ the road song than this? Not to me, not to us. “I’m in love with modern moonlight… I’m in love with the radio on” This song brings everything that makes rock so fundamentally exciting: the straightforward beat, electric guitars, electric keys, that sense of complete freedom with your gang in the backseat singing the chorus. 

2. Swell Maps - “Full Moon In My Pocket”

It pains me to admit that I cannot remember the name of the pasteup guy at the Rocket who used to tell me about the bands he loved, and that he thought I’d dig. I was so, SO into Pavement at the time, head over heels, and he did a great job of acquainting me with some of their precedents, handing off tape comps with songs from Young Marble Giants, Au Pairs, Swell Maps, and so much more. One of the tapes had this song, in two versions actually: this one, and an a cappella version, which sounds very poncey except it was the same take as this, bouncing with reverb and attitude. On our long drive from the woods to the city, a full moon hung in front of us like a carrot on a stick, and I started singing this song before I even realized it. Whatever the name of that super-awesome pasteup guy (Tom? I feel like it was Tom), I just want to tell him: I’m sorry, I’ve always been bad at remembering names, but I’ve never forgotten those tapes. Thank you.

3. Assa Cica - “Yokpo Wa Non Kpo Hami” 

When we were first getting into Beninese rock, it was Antoine Dougbé who pulled us down the rabbit hole. I figured we couldn’t be alone — his songs are the standouts on “Legends of Benin.” But there’s practically nothing to be found. I eventually found myself at Discogs, marveling at the sheer number of names that T.P. Orchestre Poly-Rythmo went by and sifting through music looking for signs of Dougbé. I eventually found this album, and not just the voice but the whole style of the band convinced me that Assa-Cica was somehow another name Dougbé went by. After some discussion, Paige and I bought our first Beninese record. In the weeks that it took to arrive, we learned a lot more about Dougbé, including the fact that he’s not actually the singer on those songs! But also I don’t think Assa-Cica is the singer on this song either! We did turn out to love every song on this record, but this one is my personal favorite, just a barnburner with disco roots. Every time I listen to it I try to imagine the cultural and personal forces that brought it into being, and it only gets more absorbing.

4. Eko Roosevelt - “Me To A De Try My Own”

T.P. Orchestre research also brought me to an album they did with Betti-Betti (or Beti-Beti), a Cameroonian singer whose tracks eventually led to Eko Roosevelt. I don’t get down with all of the music of his that I’ve heard, but this one just brings a smile to my face every time. I love the patois he sings in, where recognizable words rise suddenly out of the bubbling disco bass and the good-natured horn sections. I would never have guessed that hunting for African voodoo funk would eventually reveal a path to appreciating disco… but I’m glad that it has. I mean, I spent whole years of my life thinking that horns had no place in rock music, so what the hell do I know? 

5. Jacqueline Taïeb - “Le coeur au bout des doigts”

6. T.P. Orchestre Poly-Rythmo - “Non Gbeto Do Mahu Tche”

This 7” is from that rich early period of T.P. Orchestre (this one is I think from ’72) where the arrangements are hand-drum heavy but the organ and guitar are funk. The vocal is — I don’t know what it is, it’s a genre I hadn’t heard until I heard this band in this period. 

7. Los Wembler’s de Iquitos - “Llanto en la Selva”

8.  Iggy Pop “The Passenger”*

I’ve always thought this was one of Iggy Pop’s finest outside of his work with Stooges. I think I also always liked it because I am most often the passenger. I really really don’t like driving. I really avoid it. I have a driver’s license but boy do I not like to use it. There aren’t really a lot of songs about riding in the passenger seat that are positive or cool that I can think of besides this one and Art Brut’s “I Love Public Transportation”.

This album also makes me think of Shena’s old place on Damen Ave. in Wicker Park Chicago. This record and of course Bowie’s “Let’s Dance”.

 Hope you had a great birthday Shena!

9. Jacques Dutronc - “Les Gens Sont Flous”

The things that gets me about the song are: that single bass note that plunges every time in the verse, the shaker in the chorus, and that freakin triangle hit that happens on the coolest possible beat throughout the entire song. I fully intend to lift that idea into another song if I can find the right spot for it.

10. Jimi Hendrix - “Third Stone From The Sun”

This goes down as one of the greatest rock recordings in history. Every time I swoon at the guitar phrases, the bass line, the drums, the weird low chaos of his slowed down vocals. Truly a masterpiece, capped off by the final minute of beautiful noise that sounds like planets in motion.

11. Björk Gu∂mundsdóttir and tríó Guðmundar Ingólfssonar - Gling-Gló - “Bella Simamaer”

12. Ayalew Mesfin - “Gedawo (The Hero)”

The first 20 seconds of this song are crucial, because it establishes the 4/4 rhythm that’s coursing under the 3/4 handclap. That is such a killer rhythmic feel I can hardly stand it. I only wish they’d pull out the handclap in the middle, just for a handful of measures, and then bring em in again. Meanwhile, Mesfin’s vocal approach is so intense! 

Entr’Acte - “Phantom of the Opera Entr’Acte”*

We figured we needed an Entr’Acte to denote the change in vibe from trying to stay alert and amped on the turnpike to being back home in Brooklyn. Half of this broadcast was made in the front seat of the van on our drive back to NY after our recent visit to the Midwest where we stayed in the woods the majority of the time with a couple of runs to St. Louis to pick up Banh Mi So and tofu Laap. 

Evan and I have this thing we call “Disney Reptile Brain” but before that I should explain, Evan and I have this other thing we call “different high schools.” We have an age difference that we mostly don’t notice but every now and then there will be some cultural touchstone and one of us is like “What!? You don’t remember that!?” and we’re like “Ahh, different high schools!” So something like, the year 1994, Evan might remember it as when Kurt Cobain died, and I’ll remember it as the year “The Lion King” came out.

So, Evan missed all the of the major releases by Disney from that time – Beauty and the Beast, Aladdin, Lion King, etc. – and thus he can see how ridiculously bad these remakes are in a way that I can’t. He says that you have to “Disney Reptile brain” to fully see the movie, that you have to have the animated version playing in your mind’s eye at the same time you're watching these “live action” remakes or they don’t make any sense. And it’s true, for me and lots of other people I know born between 1984 and 1990 we experience this when watching these films, like you already know it so well and know what’s going to happen it’s more like some sort of ritual, incantation, or reenactment of a feeling.

So, that’s Disney Reptile Brain. And if you’re like, wait, but this is Phantom of the Opera and that’s not Disney. You’re right, but it turns out Reptile Brain is a thing that can happen with musicals and ALW stuff is perfect for it. (Evita! Evita!) I am helpless when I hear this music which I got into around the same time that I was devouring Disney VHS, even though I hear it now and it’s SO. SILLY. But when I hear this melody, I’m like right there, on the boat with Christine and the Phantom. I’m like a cat picked up by the scruff and I’m just completely engrossed and I can’t unlearn that feeling. If you’ve seen Phantom at all recently, it is straight up hilarious kid stuff, like how it starts with an auction of lot #666, and the phantom is like this super moody broody guy who writes passive aggressive notes to everyone. I now can hear it as so funny and so square, but what you’re hearing on this track is my reptile brain in full effect. 

Next time this music comes around, we’ll get into how Christine is Professor X and Magnito is the Phantom...

14. Sunny Blacks Band - “Holonon Die”

Ha! I said plenty about this song on air. Suffice it to say I’ve been getting obsessed with Meloclém and his performances. It’s really hard to find out anything about him, so this early track makes me really happy. I think this is sung in Fon.

15. Yo La Tengo - “False Alarm”

Alongside “Third Stone from the Sun,” another of my all-time favorite recordings ever. Yo La Tengo was a key protein in learning about rock music, starting with the album  “Painful” and hitting a peak not just on this album but specifically this song. Alongside a vivid memory of Sean N., I helplessly air-keyboard to it, air-drum to it, dance my face off. By that final phrase I’m all worn out.

16. Meas Samon & So Savoeun - Hits Collection

We don’t really know anything about this song, including its title. It’s from a cassette called “Hits Collection.” We know Meas Samon from other sources, but I have no idea what they’re talking about and what is happening in this song, though I will say the tape warping on the entire fabric of the track is absolutely delicious.

17. Syna So Pro - “Fengyang Song”

I feel so proud of Syna So Pro and St. Louis introducing this track. The first time we saw her perform this song was live at El Leñador, and it was a knockout. She (they?) used a looping pedal situation to build this huge harmonic structure in real time. I believe she may be studying Chinese, but I know she’s studying Chinese music. There’s this and one other amazing Chinese song in addition to her many songs in English on her album “Vox.”

Nino Rota

18. Fela Kuti - “Open & Close”

I would listen to this whole song just for the Tony Allen solo in the early middle — but I also love how the song is so long that even a solo as particular as that one gets swallowed back up into the totality of the track (though he has many amazing passages throughout). The emotional equilibrium of the horns is cautiously optimistic. And I find myself thinking about the passage that goes “Let me tell you a story: open and close,” and how “open and close” is a narrative in action right there in three words. What was open has closed. It’s clearly a big change, a serious shift. Once open, now closed. Why? What changes as a result? Did anyone get hurt in the closing?

19. France Gall - “Celui Que J’aime”*

In the theme of “songs that got away” (see “Muxima”) this is one that I was thrilled to find again! I heard it on Jeff Hess’s show on KDHX many years ago. It set me on a France Gall odyssey. I bought albums and collections, and none of them had this song. I think her tone is probably my favorite female vocal tone, and she’s also one of my favorite singers in her delivery. This one is very different than some of the other stuff I associate with her but I think it’s still my favorite of hers.

20. Ely - “As Turbinas Estao Ligadas”

Now Again Records put out a collection called “Brazilian Guitar Fuzz Bananas” and it’s got as much tone as the title boasts. Credit due to “vinyl archaeologist” Joel Stones for tracking down songs like these and putting them within reach. This is one among several favorites and a true hit.

21. Tulia - “Pali się (Fire of Love)”

Speaking of true hits: welcome to the world of EuroVision, where music is a medium for international competition. This song is Poland’s entry for 2019. We spent an amazing week with our friends Phil and Archie driving between Cambridgeshire and London singing along with all of the finalists of that year’s competition. It’s a fascinating idea, this vote-based international struggle turning into a final victor that somehow expresses the zeitgeist of ALL OF THOSE COUNTRIES TOGETHER — because it’s not just Europe, it’s Israel and Australia. Also amazing is that this isn’t just some scheme cooked up in the reality TV era: this has been going on for decades. In fact, France Gall was the EuroVision winner in 1965 — for Luxembourg!

22. Luigi Tenco - “Ciao Amore Ciao”

Likewise, this song was in international competition. It was sung by Egyptian-born French superstar Dalida. We saw an eponymous movie about her at the St. Louis International Film Festival in 2017 and she was a completely engrossing character. I’m not totally sold on this song as she sings it — but I love Luigi Tenco’s version. And man what a looker! He died young by his own hand, and she died too young by her own hand, and that is about as French as it gets.

23. Marijata - “I Walk Alone”

“This Is Marijata” is the sound of Ghana in 1976. I was talking about Marijata with Josh Weinstein recently, and he reminded me of this song and how much I dig it. It’s got that slow burn organ in the background, the slightly clumsy percussion in the foreground, those freighted vocals — but when it gets to the chorus, as the organ hook gives way to the horn hook, that’s when it truly hits its stride. And by the time we disappear into the fadeout, it has become fully epic. 

24. Lijadu Sisters - “Life’s Gone Down Low” 

To my ears it really feels like this song could have been released this year, rather than in 1976. What the hell was going on in West Africa that year? I feel like we could put together a great mix of songs just from that single year from Nigeria, Ghana, Benin and Ivory Coast. The Lijadu Sisters (Taiwo and Kehinde, actual identical twins) put out their first album in 1969; by their third album, “Danger,” the source of this song, they were huge stars in Nigeria and played with Ginger Baker, Art Blakey, and so on. They eventually moved to Harlem and lived together their whole lives, until Kehinde passed a little less than a year ago. 

25. Os Kiezos - “Muxima”*

As mentioned, I heard this song in a video work by Alfredo Jaar at the Art Institute of Chicago. You can read about the piece here. I learned that “Muxima” is an Angolan folk song and in the video of the same title there are, I believe, 5 different versions of the song. One particular one – the one that pulled me into the room where the video was playing on loop – was a gorgeous vocal arrangement.  I even tried shazaming it. No dice. So I wrote it down and started looking for the song, the particular arrangement. I bought a collection of Angolan music because I saw the song on it. That’s the one you heard on this broadcast and it is a recording that I now really love. I periodically keep looking for other versions of the song, hoping I’ll come across that missing version though. I thought I got close this week when I found Duo Ouro Negro’s version. (Worth checking out!) That one from the video though, still haunts me! It’s been 9 years now, I wonder if I would recognize it but I think I would. I guess the next thing I can try is a shot in the dark email to Alfredo Jaar. This is and one other song share the top spot of “songs that got away” the other one is some beautiful song that was coming from a small radio from a group of old Puerto Rican guys who were playing cards on the sidewalk on South 3rd street in Williamsburg. We were touring through and staying with our friend in that neighborhood and as we were moving the van I heard this beautiful song coming off the sidewalk. Those guys had great taste. 

[dirthavarens]

always;;ignoct

Fandom: FFXV Pairing: Ignis Scientia/Noctis Lucis Caelum // Implied Ravus/Ignis Characters: Ignis Scientia, Noctis Lucis Caelum, Ravus Nox Fleuret Rating: M (Language) Words: 2,461 Gifted to: @duscaenorange​ READ ON AO3

LISTEN, I got really emotional. Also I love the idea of Ignis having a fuck buddy who knows he’s in love with Noct.

“It’s not me you think of when those lights go out and I’ve been fine with it for these two years, but you needn’t lie to me or yourself any longer. Ignis, you’re living the life of a coward and that is unlike you. I’ve spoken to my sister and she to Noctis. I will speak no further, but I suggest you wipe that blank expression off your face and prepare yourself. Don’t deny your emotions and disregard your strict reasoning. It’s not often people in your position are given this opportunity. Do not squander it…”

Ravus is already at the door when he finishes his preachings and Ignis cannot quiet the internal sense of dread that creeps upon him. He knows full-well what has been set in motion and for all the yearning he had done in his life, he cannot fathom what would happen next. His trysts with Ravus Nox Fleuret were known to him, he could see his unstable life before him, he could see the downfall and the inevitable end when Ravus wished for something with stability and Ignis could not offer it to him. He could see his life as a chamberlain, always at Noct’s side but never how he wanted to be. But Ravus’s words made his blood run cold and he cannot bring himself to look as he listens to the door close.

Alone in his apartment, Ignis finally brings himself to peer around the space he calls home only in name. The lights are dim in the living room, the television droning on as the news plays on it; the weather is on at current, rainy days are in store. He has a few shelves of neatly organized books and movies with a few decorative ends and trinkets he’s been given over time. Most are gifts given to him from Noct in their shared youth, and the chill he felt earlier melts with the gentle trickle of sentimentality. He permits himself to indulge in memories never forgotten. Two boys running around the Citadel together, learning, growing, laughing, and all of this done with the carefree innocence of youth.

His gaze stops at a small jar filled with one solitary stone and a nostalgic smile spreads across his lips as he stands to examine it closer. Ignis closes the gap between himself and the bookcase and runs a finger over the smooth glass of the jar as memory sparks.

  “Isn’t it pretty, Iggy?” a wide-eyed child inquires, eyes too-blue and curious for Ignis to keep from smiling. He finds nothing particularly special about the rock, but he takes it regardless; the grin on his lips mirroring the one on his companion’s features. “You gotta keep that one forever, okay? We can’t be apart if you have that stone because see, look, I found one just like it.”

No older than six and already sentimental. Noct holds another stone up and it is somehow the exact same as the one Ignis holds in his hand. Together, they hold the rocks to the sun and watch as they sparkle in tandem. His free hand twitches as he feels something move closer to it. He knows what it is and seizes it immediately and together they stand hand-in-hand as they stare at their stones.

“You’ll be with me forever, right?” Noct asks later that evening while they sit in the garden, staring up at the night sky.

“Always.” Ignis replies with a wide smile, his hand once again finding Noct’s and lacing their fingers together.

He removes his hand from the jar as a rueful grin pulls at his lips. It’s a sentiment repeated over and over throughout their relationship. Always together, never apart, through the strains of Noct’s marriage to Lunafreya, and tangled into the web of seclusion Ignis has weaved for himself, he always held Noct close. If only in his thoughts.

A knock at his door sends trepidation tumbling through him, but he regains his composure as quickly as he lost it. Now is not the time to falter, he reminds himself as he moves toward the door. Ignis knows who waits on the other side and ponders for just a moment if this will really solve anything or if it will just make matters worse. He knows full well the type of attachment he has with Noct, just as he knows how unprofessional that attachment was. With that in mind, he opens the door and sees those too-blue eyes staring up at him fear and anxiety deeply woven into them.

It’s a fear he knows too well, but alway knew just how to hide it. Noct, however, was not as fortunate when it came to being able to mask his emotions, or perhaps Ignis knew him too well and could read him with a single glance. Regardless, Ignis did not anticipate seeing that particular brand of fear on Noct’s face and it keeps him from a proper greeting. Noct, however, is quick on the uptake and speaks without hesitation.

“We need to talk,” Noct says as he enters. Ignis shuts the door behind them and nods once. He has heard those words before from another’s mouth, yet somehow regarding the same topic.

  Ravus barges into the apartment, pushing by Ignis and takes to leaning against his kitchen island. Usually when Ravus is forcing himself into Ignis’s space it’s for less savory matters, and his eyes narrow in suspicion. Whatever it is he wants, Ignis feels he may have to ask the other to take his leave. They went into this relationship knowing that it was purely physical and nothing more. Ravus understood there was to be no further discussion as to why. They were both extremely busy, too busy for any type of romance. All they were to each other was stress relief; and that’s how it would stay or Ravus could forget their arrangement altogether.

“You do well to hide your emotions, you know, but not all is hidden. I can see the way you look at him and I can’t help but wonder what it is you’re doing with your time sneaking around with me when it’s clearly him you want. I need to hear the truth from you. I’ve known your mind to venture elsewhere when we spend time together, but never did I think it went there. Your connection to him is deeper than any I’ve seen and your loyalty is unwavering. My dear sister has told me stories of her youth when he would speak of nothing but you until she made a point to change the subject. Thus, I ask: You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”

Ignis feels his blood boil, the garish light shone upon his truth burns him as fire does the skin, and he cannot bring himself to look Ravus in the eye. Instead, he takes to working over his jaw as he moves further into the apartment. Guilt twists in his gut as Ravus’s venomous gaze refuses to remove itself from him. Ignis stops juxtaposition Ravus, a section of his back firmly against the smooth marble of the counter as he crosses his arms tightly across his chest.

“I figured as much. Then why? Why waste your time fucking someone you are not interested in beyond the physical rush? I don’t mind being used, but I’d prefer knowing just what I’m being used for,” Ravus continues in an even tone, though Ignis can hear the sting of muffled bitterness in the undertones of his words. “I’m nothing like him.” “We had an agreement in the beginning to never make mention of our arrangement,” Ignis begins curtly, his voice as sure-footed as ever. He could only pray it remained as such. “But it seems you are not going to waver on your stance. So let me say this to you, Ravus. I will talk to you about anything, debate until my lungs give out. We can talk about anything you like, but not him. He’s not a topic to be discussed, an object or secret to be whispered about, and I will not stand here and have accusations thrown at me, regardless their pertinence. If you’ve more to say, I might ask that you refrain, for it will find you no merit here. If you wish to keep our meetings as they are, then they can, but he is something we cannot speak of.”

Ignis relaxes as he turns to see Ravus staring at the floor, clearly wrapped up in his thoughts. Even if he decided to speak to anyone else of this, there was nothing that could be done. Noct and Luna have been married a year and their arrangement was one that quieted a war waged several years prior. Ignis was not one to disrupt the flow of events for his own gain and he certainly would not take such a chance when so much was at risk. Not to mention he never knew Noct’s exact feelings.

“I ran into Ravus on the way here. He said you’d be expecting me,” Noct states quietly as he stays just inside the door, his back turned to Ignis as he speaks. His form is wavering and Ignis can all but smell the uncertainty on him. Whatever it is that he’s so afraid of saying, Ignis has recited in his head a thousand times over. Nothing could catch him by surprise more than the fact that Noct was actually standing in his apartment having this conversation. He only hopes he’s not getting ahead of himself. Ignis places his hand on Noct’s shoulder and feels as it tenses under his grip.

They share a silence as Noct’s shoulder relaxes into Ignis’s touch before turning around so they are face to face. Ignis always imagined what he would say in this situation, the day he could finally tell Noct all those words he held close to heart, always out of reach. But he falters now, coming up blank as he gazes upon the anxious man in front of him. Everything was laid bare and yet nothing is being said. Ignis wants to say something, anything, to break the silence because he knows the longer he keeps him there in the quiet, the more time he’s giving him to back out. It’s been over a year since they found themselves entirely alone in a place of complete privacy. He has to say something.

“Noct…” is all he manages to get out and that’s all he needs to say. His lifelong companion is moving closer and the hand that was on Noct’s shoulder finds its way to upward to cup his jaw and cheek. His head spins as they share a breath, inhaling and exhaling in tandem as everything strikes him with clarity. He’s here. This is real. Noct is an inch away from his lips and he can taste the scent of him on his tongue.

Not wanting to wait another second, Ignis closes the gap and guides Noct upward to join their lips in a single, painfully tender kiss. He traces the tip of his nose along the side of Noct’s before kissing him again, indulging in the softness of those lips he had spent too long thinking of. He places his other hand at the small of his back and pulls him closer still, wanting the tangible contact he thought impossible for years. Noct’s head rests against him and before long the two are sharing an embrace, wrapped entirely in the other’s arms.

Ignis does not bother to withhold the hitch in his breath when he gazes upon Noct’s face after they separate. The genuine warmth radiating from him is contagious and it takes Ignis with little resistance. Never had he felt the elation that ruminates through him, swallowing him like an ocean he’s not afraid to drown in. With no need to force his desires and affections into the background, he feels...happy. As simply put as he can possibly make it, seeing Noct standing before him with flushed cheeks and a genial grin, Ignis Scientia is a happy man.

“Again and don’t stop until I say,” Noct demands more than asks before leaning upwards. Not wanting to deny either of them the opportunity, Ignis gladly obliges him and seizes awkwardly seizes his lips. He always hated kissing while smiling, but there was something amazing about the experience now. Both try to keep the connection as they maneuver the apartment, but Noct breaks the kiss once to find his bearings and Ignis waits with a new kind of eagerness, something bordering excitement. “Couch.”

Before Ignis can agree or disagree, Noct’s fingers tangle into the fabric of Ignis’s shirt, guides him the rest of the way, and pushes him onto the cushions. Ignis is about to grab at Noct’s waist to pull him down when Noct raises a finger. Confusion washes over him as Noct reaches into his pocket. In his hand, he holds a stone that sets his soul alight. He watches as Noct scans the room and finds the small jar.

“You had this our entire trip to Altissia. I know you tried to keep it hidden but I saw it one day in Lestallum. I wanted to say something then, but given what we were doing, I didn’t think it would have been the best timing. Plus the guys were there and you know how that would have gone,” he jested as he picked up the jar. “I figured you might still have it on you and I’m glad you do because this one has been looking for a home for quite some time.”

The rock lands beside its twin with a clang in the glass jar before Noct seals it tightly. He holds it for a moment before bringing it over to the coffee table and placing it there, letting the setting sun hit the stones. They took a moment to watch as they shimmered in evening light. There’s something that feels right about what the scene, having Noct in his apartment as they explore a love nearly as old as they are. For as new as everything is, it feels timeless and proper, all anxieties pushed aside as they indulge in something they started so long ago.

“I meant what I asked that night,” Noct utters as he lowers himself to the couch. Ignis places a hand on his waist to help guide him until he’s basically straddling him on the cushion. “Forever?”

Ignis leans up and takes Noct’s lips in a slow kiss, breathing him in as his eyelids flutter delicately. It was almost embarrassing how well they fit together, how fluid and matching their actions were. They mirrored each other perfectly, as if made for each other. “Always.”