#iggy t-shirt

[meetmeinthesandbox]

I want Iggy’s T Rex t-shirt.

[splatoondetective]

Iggy do you like Ben 10?

Iggy: Yeah!! The original though, not the stupid reboot.

[photondoesstuff]

This is what JoJo merch in the USA looks like

[jago980]

[notadeathinthefamily]

[sisitrip]

I was at a Thanksgiving dinner, recuperating (food coma afflicted) in a quiet corner while relatives got happier with after dinner drinks. I caught the look of a cousin, also food coma afflicted, and we had a whole conversation without saying a word. A tiny relative (read: a bored 8 year old) saw us and asked what we were talking about because it looked "nasty." Were we throwing shade at an auntie who always has something to say? That ain't the point, but ... maybe. It sparked the whole outsider POV thought and what can be picked up between two people who don't have to say a word.

All that "nasty" talk I was possibly doing aside, please enjoy an Iggy outsider POV with "Touch Tells You Everything."

-------------------------------------------

Skin had its own language.

This thought wouldn’t leave Iggy’s mind as he watched Mickey and Ian have a seemingly telepathic conversation all night. If he didn’t know them, he’d be a little spooked by it.

He sat in the corner of said couple’s condo, surveying the aftermath of a Gallagher party. PizzaHut, KFC and White Castle boxes littered the living room like dead soldiers, felled by the gastronomic fury of this family. On top of the culinary destruction, which he admittedly had a hand in, everyone was completely wasted. Except Ian and Mickey. Lip was the only other exception which might explain how he’d managed to irritate him more than usual tonight. Ordinarily, he could tune the little lemur out, but he’d gotten suckered into being the sober driver for these fools. Somebody was definitely throwing up with the way he drives and he personally hoped it was Carl.

But, back to the language of skin. 

He squinted one eye and followed Ian and Mickey’s movements around the room. It was almost balletic, this dance of finger brushing, forearm cupping, and neck stroking. Intimate touches he would find irritatingly unnecessary, but somehow seemed vital to these two. 

Like now, Ian walked over to Mickey who was loading the dishwasher and slipped a hand under the back of his shirt. He expected Mick to jerk up and look around to see if anyone noticed. He didn’t. 

Instead, he stopped what he was doing and gently pushed Ian up against the counter, taking his hands and placing them back under his t-shirt, like his skin was a dermal barometer of Ian’s mood. They even had a weird, silent conversation where all they did was look into each other's eyes before nodding at one another, coming to some sort of understanding. 

“Alright, time for you fucks to get out,” Mickey announced unceremoniously, turning to lean against Ian. Mickey did it carefully, so as not to dislodge Ian’s hands like an electric current would be broken if he did. 

Everyone drunkenly moved en masse to get their coats from the bedroom, leaving him and the handsy couple alone. Mickey turned back to Ian, again carefully keeping skin contact. Ian’s expression went lax with something. Relief? Gratitude? He couldn’t tell because it was all mixed up in the dopiest expression of love. Not for the first time, he wondered what it would feel like if someone looked at him like that.

Mickey and Ian’s silent conversation continued, but this time, there was rocking. Ian pulled Mickey closer and swayed him from side to side, tiredly smiling. He swore on his name that if they started kissing, he was going to make studio quality vomiting sounds. 

Ian’s hands slid up and down under Mickey’s shirt and his brother let himself be pawed like a resigned cat. Mickey didn’t move or even try to break eye contact. He simply tilted his head to the side and raised questioning eyebrows. He didn't know what the question was, but Ian nodded, eyes a little shiny. Mickey’s nostrils flared once, twice and finally a third time before he took a deep breath and pulled Ian’s head down, kissing his forehead. 

“Ain’t you fucks got your coats yet?” Mickey bellowed, never taking his eyes off Ian. 

The group returned giggling about something they’d found attached to the couple’s headboard. He didn't want to know what. 

“Iggy, you’re driving us, right?” Debbie asked, putting her coat on backwards. 

Ian and Mickey finally noticed he was still in the room. Mickey buried his head in Ian’s chest and his husband’s neck turned red. Served them right for all that unnecessary canoodling shit.  

“I said I would, didn’t I?” he griped, standing up and stretching.

He flicked a glance at the couple who were still attached to each other like they were in a lifeboat in the middle of the ocean. He considered trying to get Mickey to drive these drunk assholes home, but his brother seemed to have other plans. Like pulling Ian’s t-shirt out of the back of his pants and sliding his hands up his husband’s naked back. Ian seemed to deflate with relief and despite his earlier self-promise, he made no vomiting noises when Mickey leaned up to kiss Ian, gently and with a care reserved for things that were beyond precious. 

That decided it for him. Instead of a critical waste of spit on these skin junkies in the kitchen, he aimed it at the crew he had to chauffeur home. 

“Listen the fuck up. Everybody takes a bottle of water in the rig and starts practicing the quiet game. I’m sober against my will and don’t want to hear your nonsense,” he warned, shrugging into his own coat. 

“We’re heading out,” Lip said, walking out with Tami. “Hey, Ian, I’ll-”

“Philip, can you enter and exit a room without expecting the world to clap?” he snapped. “Get on. People are tired.”

Lip huffed out with his bitchy, but hot wife while he redirected Debbie and Carl from their beeline to the kitchen for a long goodbye. 

“Let’s go frick and fucking frack,” he grumbled, shoving them both out the door.

He looked back at Ian and Mickey, still pressed close together. Mickey held a cold beer to the back of Ian’s neck and slid a hand under his shirt, stroking his side. Ian, eyes and nose reddening, buried his face in Mickey’s shoulder, hands moving like ghosts under the shroud of Mickey’s shirt, rubbing soft circles like he was gleaning comfort through his fingertips. 

He caught Mickey’s eye and his brother’s worry was so evident, his own chest tightened in response. But, with an almost imperceptible nod, Mickey thanked him, letting him know they were okay. See, they had their own language too, built on years of silently conveying warnings in a hair trigger household. He nodded in return and slipped out, using the spare keys Ian gave him to lock up. For a minute, he stood outside the door until he heard Ian’s soft sobs inside and Mickey’s murmured reassurances.

“Take care of him, Mick,” he whispered, patting the door.

As he rode down the elevator with two drunken Gallaghers, he sent a good wish back up to the couple, still marveling at their conversation through touch. He’d never known anyone well enough to talk to like that. It was … intimate. Almost too intimate. It felt like talking when you were naked and not being worried about what you’d say or how you looked. You just felt … safe. Mickey and Ian had so much of that, you could see it if you just watched them long enough. 

And, if he was a softer person, he might admire that. Maybe even envy it. 

He didn’t think he could still be surprised by them. It’s been over a decade of their ‘will they or won’t they’ nonsense. But, for Mickey and Ian, touch was another way to communicate and tonight had made one thing perfectly clear.

Skin had its own language.

[spacerockwriting]

For Keely

Happy Holidays from your secret santa!

@thepupperino

and a fic

Winter time was one of the worst times to be an EMT. Calls left and right from drunk patrons celebrating the holidays, kids falling on ice, and worst of all, DIY projects for the holidays. Not that Ian minded; he loved his job. He loved being able to make a difference in a way that helps the community. It gave him purpose, a reason to exist .

The day was going slower than normal, which was a surprise for the holiday season. But it made sense, it was a little too early for the drunk carolers, as it was for the office parties. Sue was chatting about gifts for her relatives, as Ian just sipped on his thermos of Fiona’s cocoa, nodding his head along with her chatter

Some shifts just seemed to drag, and so far, this was one of them. 

A call came over the walkie talkie, Sue nodding in response. “Incident at the Old Ukrainian church on Michigan, Saint Andrew’s, I think. Let’s go, Gallagher.” Ian follows his work partner into the ambulance, as she chats about the holidays and the romantic things her spouse has planned–as well as the not so romantic. “Who knows,” Sue chuckles. “Maybe one day you'll finally find someone. Can’t be hung up over that douche bag forever.”

“I’m not looking to date anyone. Not right now, anyways.”

“Gallagher,” Sue says, shaking her head.

The Church they pull into is old, historic. There’s a large archway for the entry , with stone steps leading up to the door. Stepping inside, Ian can hear  two men arguing loudly . One has messy blond hair that needs a wash and a brush, and the other..

Ian stops. The man’s wearing an old flannel shirt with the sleeves cut off, a t-shirt underneath the flannel with dark ripped jeans. His dark hair is off his face, and even though he’s in pain, he has the bluest eyes Ian has ever seen.

“Over here!” A woman with a clipboard calls out. She’s waving over to where the hurt boy is on the ground. “We’re over here!” She shouts, louder this time, waving Ian over. Grabbing his kit, he kneels down to check on the handsome man with the dark hair.

“Iggy, that’s my fuckin’ leg.”

“Shit,” Iggy apologizes. “Sorry Mick.”

“Fucker, that’s my leg,” Mickey repeats.

“Can you stand?” Iggy asks, and Mickey grimaces again. “Fucker, again, that’s my fucking leg,” he repeats.

“Hi, I’m Ian,”He introduces himself to the raven haired.. Gently tapping and examining the dark haired man’s leg., he nodded, carefully removing the shoe. “So, we’re going to get you to the hospital. Could I have your name please, Sir?”

“It’s Mikhailo,” the messy blond boy teases, smirking at the raven haired.

“Mickey,” Mickey says. “Don’t listen to that fucker.”

“Okay, Mickey,” Ian says calmly. “We’re going to put you in the ambulance. Just hold tight.”

“I’ll ride,” Iggy states, and Mickey scoffs, suddenly remembering how he arrived at this.

“You’re the one that did this Fuckface.”

Ian pauses. “If this is some sort of assault case we’re going to have to get the police involved.”

“Nah, not assault, just my idiot brother not knowin’ how to do shit.”

“Fuck you! The board just fell!”

“Cause you fuckin’ dropped it!” He hisses back. “Shit—“ he adds, aching as they placed him on the gurney. “Fuck.”

“Hold still,” Ian commands. “We’ll get you there in a minute. In the meantime, is there anyone we can call? A spouse or…?” Ian notices that there’s no ring on his finger.

“Nah. No spouse, no boyfriend,” Mickey says, swallowing nervously at the last words. He hasn’t been out for long, but this whole living your truth thing he was advised to do rings in his head. He was trying, especially since his father was locked up again.

“Uh, me too,” Ian adds awkwardly. “Boyfriend that is. So uh, what were you doin’ at the church?” He asks, genuinely curious. He wonders if the guy is religious. Not that he’d mind, it’d just be an adjustment. After all, every so often his own father, Frank, went through little religious bouts. Ian can recall many times he had to be dragged to mass because Frank just decided it was what they did now. Then weeks later he’d be back to how he normally is.

“What’s it look like? Was helping with the nativity,” he adds, grimacing at the pain.

As Ian unloads Mickey from the gurney and places him in his room he gives the other a weak smile before going back to work. His heart flutters when he gives another once over at the man. --

The Chicago winter was cold. All Ian wanted to do was be bundled up with his sister’s famous hot cocoa and a blanket, watching holiday movies on TV. But, leave it to his siblings to leave him to do the errands. But, neglecting the errands Ian finds himself wandering to the very same church from that call he was on just a few weeks before.

The doors are unlocked as Ian heads inside, taking a peek at the people congregating. Standing in the back quietly, he watches as the others rehearse, catching a glimpse of the man who now has his leg in a cast. He’s sitting on a pew, leg propped up as he bosses around the others. As soon as he takes notice of Ian, he grabs the crutches and wobbles his way to the back of the church.

“Yeah?” 

“I was just in the neighborhood, thought I’d stop by. Y’know, check to see how your leg is doing.”

“S’alright. Fucker’s annoying. You always check in like this to your patients?” Mickey teases.

“Just the ones I like. So, uh, you like this sort of thing? The church an’ stuff.”

“That a pickup line, Red?”

Ian smirks. “Maybe.”

“Mm, well, not really, then.” Mickey shoves his hands into his pocket, trying to not fall over. “Community service. It ain’t picking trash up off the streets.”

“Are you in it?”

“Nah, just building shit. Well, was, until that fucker broke my leg.” He points over at a boy with shaggy hair. “Now I’m just supervisin’.”

Ian chuckles. “In that case, do you uh, wanna maybe grab a bite or something?”

“Like a date?”

“Uh, yeah, if you—“Ian looks down at his phone and sighs. Of course his siblings would interrupt this moment. Mickey quirks a brow. “Sorry, my brothers pestering me. I gotta—Sorry—“ As Ian turns around to head out the door, he curses his siblings.

Mickey follows him out the door, carefully maneuvering his crutches around the ice on the sidewalk. “You just gonna ask then leave?”

Ian feels the buzz from his phone once more, and this time he picks it up angrily. “What? Yes, Carl, tell Debs I got the milk. Fuck!” Ian hangs the phone up annoyed. “Sorry, I really gotta go but uh, here—You gotta pen?”

Mickey grabs at a marker placed behind his ear. “Might be dried out but eh.” He shrugs.

Grabbing the marker, Ian scratches down his information on the thigh area of Mickey’s cast. Call me-Ian followed by a number. Bending back up to hand the marker back, Ian’s eyes flick up to see the snow starting to fall.

“I should probably go back in,” Mickey says, gesturing to the cast on his leg. The snow was starting to fall harder, and Mickey didn’t want fuck up chances and have his cast get wet. Last thing he needed was to have to spend more time in a cast.

“Let me help.” He grabs the inside of Mickey’s arm, helping him back to the inside of the church. There’s tons of mistletoe planted around the church awnings, and while it could be easy to ignore, Ian isn’t one to ignore the tradition. 

Pausing, Ian takes a moment to glance into some of the brightest blue eyes he’s ever seen. The boy’s cheeks are reddening, and Ian wonders if its blush or from the cold, considering the boy just has on a tattered old hoodie. Gently stroking his cheek and glancing into his eyes, Ian presses his lips to the raven haired boy, surprised as the boy kisses him back. And it’s there, in some old Ukrainian church with lightly falling snow that Ian kisses the boy he swears he’s going to marry one day.

[hernakedmuse]

Punk!Bimbo Reader Headcanons Part I

She moved to Hawkins from Queens in her Freshman year

When she arrived everyone was mean to her, she showed up with chopped off cropped hair styled a little Betty Boop, a Sex Pistols t-shirt that had her thrown in the principal's office, and maroon doc martens all beat up.

Girls would hit her in the locker room and call her derogatory names and guys would call her a slut especially because of her well endowed breasts and punk appearance.

One day, Horror!Bimbo is in the girl's bathroom skipping class to have a smoke, she's fixing her lipstick when she smells smoke, sees the bathroom window open and hears crying.

She opens the stall of the handicapped one to see Punk!Bimbo sitting on the toilet, just sitting, with headphones on, tears messing up her mascara, clutching a cigarette with chipped red nails in a cute, ripped Iggy Pop shirt, a small jeans shorts, ripped fishnet stockings, and docs, oversized army jacket around her elbows and a cool homemeade nose piercing.

She liked this girl and eyed her cadillac red lipstick, she wants it. "You're crying, is the song very sad?"

Punk!Bimbo was ready to cuss out and fight the bitch who interrupted her when she saw it was the Whore of Hawkins High, that was what they called her but Punk!Bimbo thought it was misogynist and ridiculous, and who gave a fuck what anyone did with their own life, God forbid! Oh how she hates the midwest.

The girl had a vacant yet kind look in her eye and looked unbothered and intrigued, so Punky answered. "No, it's angry, it's um--Black Flag, Rise Above by Black Flag."

Horror!Bimbo took out her own cigarette, wrapping her black cherry lips around her own and lit up with her lavender colored lighter. To Punky she looked like a stripper rendition of a corpse bride and she LOVED it, who was she? Truly? "Can I listen? You can listen to my tape, it's uh- *giggles* Nina Hagen--"

"I love Nina Hagen!" Punky exclaimed interrupting the gore whore.

Horror!Bimbo sat on Punky's lap with ease and took her head phones while giving hers to Punky. "They steal my panties and tell everyone I give blow jobs for 50 cents-- one time the principal tried to look up my skirt, I asked him why he was looking up there and I got suspended and a rumor of me fucking him went around, now his wife gives me dirty looks at my dad's grocery store." Her wispy, ghost-like voice explained which horrified Punky, how could anyone treat someone like that? Especially someone so sweet. "They call me a slut and a dyke, I don't care about that though those aren't insults to me, but it's the hitting you know? They like to fuck with me and- I'm so tired, I'm not sad I'm tired, fucking tired and something's gotta change."

Horror!Bimbo blew a smoke ring. "So hit back, bash them in the head for once, you're gonna get in trouble anyway. Bash their brains in watch the blood run." She giggled like a maniac.

Punky laughed. "You're crazy."

"I know!" She moaned "Please try and tell the mental hospitals I've been applying at that!'

They've been best friends ever since.

Punky decided to follow in Moth's footsteps and played up the bimbo look. Cut her hair in a blunt, China bob, dressing revealing like California's Angelyne and spin some Debbie Harry into her look which was absolutely lethal with her va va voom body, her overdeveloped hips and tits, makeup always vampy, clothing rockabilly.

She really started fighting back when her mom's boyfriend tried to molest her in her sleep one night, she put a cigarette out in his eye. Her mom kicked her out, this was junior year, and Horror!Bimbo took her in for a month until her mom begged her back and told her she was right that Rodney was no good.

She blamed Punky though for looking so easy, Punky bit back her feminist rant and let bygones be bygones with her mother but when school came, when Carol tried to grab her by the hair because her boyfriend wanted her to blow him, she took Carol by the hair and slammed her head against the locker and pushed her to the ground and kicked her in the stomach with her thrift store, leopard print stilettos, she beat the ever living shit out of Carol as she let out bloodcurdling screams in the hall, she never forgot when Carol tried to set her up to get gangraped at a party and never forgot when Steve Harrington saved her that night.

Carol had to be taken to the hospital, she had two broken ribs, one missing tooth, a broken nose, broken arm, and a concussion from Punky's rage alone.

Nobody messed with her again.

She started an apprenticeship at the only beauty parlor in town and sings lead for a punk band started by community college students from the next town over, they call the band Hellcat, which was a nickname Punky earned.

The Beauty Parlor is a couple doors down from Family Videos

A certain big haired employee was enamored with the vixen in the tight pin up clothing and the vampy bob who swayed her hips down the street to her job. He'd bring her food sometimes from Benny's, give her his employee discount when she came in for videos, sometimes just pay for it himself.

"Let me know when you wanna book an appointment with me Stevie" She'd tell him with a smirk on her cadillac red lips, a wink, and a saucy little hip sway. She was like Elizabeth Taylor, Vikki Dugan, and Elvira wrapped in one, she was a centerfold come to life, he'd do anything for her, let her do anything to him.

If only she knew after that terrible night at the party, he would follow her home every night after that to make sure she got home safe.

Her silent protector.

[just-a-carrot]

nah bc orlam does have that shakespeare language. like he speaks in fluent reddit pseudo-intellectualism, I think. bro flips through the thesaurus with his feet when he texts iggy to find big words to use and the entire time he’s like “oh the hoes (iggy) are gonna LOOOOOOOOOVE this” (iggy does not know what half of the words mean)

anyways back to my 12 page MLA formatted essay as to why I think orlam is a reddit mod on at least 3 subreddits—

exhibit a.) fedora wearer

exhibit b.) uses big words when he really doesn’t need to

exhibit c.) not straight

exhibit d.) business major

exhibit e.) worked a dead end IT job at some point

exhibit f.) middle name “dagwud”. need I say more?

exhibit g.) lived at home with parents in college

exhibit h.) probably owns at least one samurai sword hanging in his room somewhere

exhibit i.) look at him.

exhibit j.) his playlist is literally called “the depths of my soul”. like okay bro hot topic is that way-

exhibit k.) he’s got the reddit mod phenotype.

exhibit l.) rat-like in stature

exhibit m.) questionable hair

exhibit n.) ginger (trust me on this one)

exhibit o.) looks like he would ask me if I take reddit karma as payment

exhibit p.) “as you can see here, genzou, I have made YOU the soyjak and ME the chad, so therefore I have WON this argument”

exhibit q.) blurry on whether or not he’d sell NFT’s (I’m sorry bro but I can’t trust business majors like that 😔😔😔)

exhibit r.) bro probably thinks his comebacks are the most intelligent thing the world has ever witnessed. he wonders why he isn’t famous by now. he’s so smart guys did you know he’s so smart-

exhibit s.) PRESIDENT OF ALPHA KAPPA PSI

exhibit t.) white dress shirt wearer. I know what you are

exhibit u.) has 100% said “very wholesome this is reddit gold worthy” at some point or something along those lines

exhibit v.) haha. nerd.

exhibit w.) creature feature listener I KNOW what you ARE

exhibit x.) homosexual situationship that destroyed him as a person and altered his brain chemistry for life. tbh same.

exhibit y.) probably got a yaoi folder he is not exempt from that because he’s in his mid-30’s

exhibit z.) reiterating my point: LOOK AT HIM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

although I will say he beats the “not showering” allegations bc I am so glad to know that he takes care of himself and is hygienic……he’s already better than most reddit mods. and the fact that he canonically pulls and Is Able To Woo People

I can't believe you actually went through the whole alphabet this is so intense 🤣

I have nothing to say besides bravo, this is a work of art LOL

this is probably true tho I do believe that of all of them, Orlam probably spends the most time online. I think he would love (and be good at) cultivating spaces and being a mod in general as he has no problem cracking down on ppl following the rules (and he loves being treated like a god lol). he yearns to hold the masses in his hands...

[atthedugouts]

Mandy has been working at this little thrift store for a few months now. It’s so much better than pouring creepy jackasses their coffee at 1:00 in the morning. Her favorite part is that she gets a pretty good discount so for the first time she can actually experiment with her fashion instead of wearing hand-me-downs from her brothers. She also enjoys her co-workers and for the first time feels like she’s forming solid female friendships.

She is folding some graphic t-shirts at a table when a familiar face walks into the store. Except Iggy was not looking like his normal grungy self. It appears he’s taken a shower and brush his hair.

“Yo, Mandy,” Iggy greets as he approaches his sister.

“What are you up to?” Mandy asks, pausing her folding. She tries not to sound angry as she doesn’t want to cause a scene at work.

“You got anything to help with this?” Iggy says pointing to the hole in his shirt revealing the skin of his right shoulder. There’s dried blood outlining the hole. “I got to meet my fucking pig of a PO in 20 minutes.”

“And you’re wearing that shirt?” Mandy says in disbelief.

“It’s my lucky shirt!”

“You were fucking shot in it.”

“Yeah, and I fucking survived.” Iggy responds, rolling his eyes.

Mandy walks over to a rack of men’s jackets and find a blazer in her brother’s size.

“Here,” she hands him the blazer and he puts it on covering the bullet hole in the shirt. “Return it when you’re done with your meeting.”

“Thanks sis!” Iggy says as he ruffles her hair. Causing it to frizz up on top. Mandy tries to retaliate by punching his side but he dodges her and walks out the door.

Mandy’s co-worker Becky appears by her side. “Who was that?”

“Oh that was just one of my shithead brothers, Iggy,” Mandy responds. Mandy notices a dreamlike stare in Becky as she watches the door Iggy just left out of. “He doesn’t normally look like that.”

“You think he’ll be visiting you at work often?” Becky asks.

“Not if I can help it,” Mandy mumbles under her breath walking away from her co-worker. She’s wondering if making friends is worth it if they all just end up banging her idiot brothers.

[sodalitefully]

Ok look I was bored and I decided to photograph my GNR collection, here it is:

I don't have a complete collection of CDs, but I'm getting there! First pic is GNR, including a couple (pretty common) live bootlegs. Second is Slash. Third includes Izzy's first album, Duff's first album, Velvet Revolver, and a few albums that jut happen to have GNR members on them as guests bc why not (Axl with Don Henley, Slash & Duff with Iggy Pop, Slash with Spinal Tap, Slash with Lenny Kravitz).

I'm not much of a record collector, but I have the Paradise City/Move To The City single and an original AFD.

The magazines are: Q, June 1991; Mojo, July 2008; and Classic Rock, February 2022. The Mojo article is my favorite :)

I also have Slash's autobio, of course, and an unofficial band biography that I haven't read from 1991 (pre-UYI, interestingly). Also, a VHS copy of 'Welcome To The Videos,' which was a lucky garage sale find.

The 4 box set came with some stuff: a poster, a booklet, a patch, a pick, and a cassette with live versions of four songs. The other guitar pick is Frank Sidoris's from the show I went to. I have the wristband from that and the last tour too but they're not much to look at lol.

Some oddities: stickers, a (probably legit?) pin, and a poster from that time GNR toured with Motley Crue!

And finally, my signed Slash poster 😌. It was a freebie with a t-shirt.

...I have a couple GNR shirts and a SMKC shirt & hoodie, but some of them are in the laundry so, eh. Maybe I'll edit this later lol.

I don't wanna KNOW how much I spent on all this, but hopefully the damage wasn't too bad since I got basically all the media secondhand... 😳

Anyway if anyone wants to share what they have and make me wildly jealous jk I'd love to see it!

[louisupdates]

FITFWT23: KRAKOW RECAP

Concert number: 49

Date:  10 SEP 2023

Place: Tauron Arena

Capacity: 22,000

Venue: [fan] [barrie pitt] [barrie pitt] [oli crump] [krystle] [benjoseph hubbard] [jdelf] [oli crump]

Livestream [1] [2] [x]

Louis’ IG story [football]

LTHQ Twitter and Instagram

Concert Group Picture [steve durham]

Fashion: VTMNTS t-shirt, Stone Island hoodie

Lithograph

Setlist

Photos: [HQ] [x] [x] [x] [x] [x] [rainbows] [x] [x] [x] [x] [x] [with fans] [with fans] [with fans] [with fans] [with fans] [polaroids] [x] [meeting fans] [barricade] [x] [with fans] [with fans] [with fans] [with fans] [with fans] [x] [with fans] [with fans] [with fans] [with fans] [louis the avocado] [how was the game] [with fans] [x] [barricade] [hands] [x] [x] [x] [x] [with fans] [barricade] [x] [HQ] [HQ] [HQ] [HQ] [HQ] [HQ] [HQ] [x] [x] [HQ] [gifs] [HQ barricade]

Videos: [x]

Speeches: I fucking love your country [x], I’m not up full vocal strength tonight [x]

Outro: Lust For Life, by Iggy Pop

Press: All About Music

Merch: [x], crazy line for merch, which was sold out

Catering menu with vegan options

Misc: Street ad, with fans in Wrocław for the Ukraine vs. UK match (1-1), the LT Team at the match, Louis’ IG likes [9.9.2023], Joshua Halling football photo, Dave Gibson posts about the inclusion of OOMS on NBA 2K24, fan edit

[asktirimor]

"Shop is closed temporarily." Iggy calls put as she is replacing parts on one of her automated turrets damaged in the recent attack.

"Do be careful of an UXO that may be around here. Not liable if something triggers it and you blow a leg off." She flips down her welding mask and starts fixing a break in the frame

He was wearing a light grey hooded trench coat and pants, a white t-shirt, and also white and grey shoes. He also had a silver chain necklace around his neck, the pendant a three pronged crown that was half white and black. However the trench coat was zipped up and with his hood up all that can be seen was a black void. “Would not be the first time that has happened but I’m more durable than I look. Heard that your shop was attacked by some other sinners. Though considering the amount of meaty swiss cheese and chunky salsa in the area looks like you didn’t need help.”

[pinklocksoflove]

Common scene in the morning for Iggy. She's in a loose old cropped t-shirt and panties, cooking coffee on a bunsen burner and slurping on instant ramen.