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wileycap · 2 months

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Further Excerpts From The Fire Nation Royal Palace Servants' (Unofficial) Handbook

Or: More Revisions To Normal Protocol After The Ascension Of Agni's Exalted Flame, The Dragon Of The Sun, et cetera, Fire Lord Zuko

Part 1:

7. If His Majesty offers you advice regarding martial arts, camouflage, theatre, or any other subject which he is commonly known to be well-versed in, accept it gratefully. If His Majesty offers you advice on emotional matters, listen politely and then disregard it.

7.1. If His Majesty uses the phrase "silver sandwich", you are entitled to a longer lunch break. So you can take a longer bite out of your silver sandwich.

7.1.1. Please do not vandalize the handbook, even if you think it's funny.

7.1.2. Especially if you think it's funny, Chikao.

7.2. If you share something tragic with His Majesty, and he replies "that's rough, buddy", it means he empathizes with your situation.

7.2.1 Alright, maybe he did need to learn that it's not a great way to respond to tragedy. But "rough like the boulders that crushed my father?" was a bit much.

8. Prince Iroh has advised the servants not to reveal to His Majesty what the meat in turtleduck dumplings is. Apparently, he thinks the name comes from their shape. The dumplings are not shaped like turtleducks.

8.1. Now that His Majesty knows, be ready to recite the names of all the turtleducks in the palace at a moment's notice, and also to reassure His Majesty that they are all safe, accounted for, and uneaten.

9. His Majesty should be kept apprised of any "sightings" of the Blue Spirit. The Blue Spirit is an entirely fictional creature. However, his belief in it is entirely benign (and as far as eccentricities go, we've all seen worse) and likely something he will outgrow with age.

9.1. Do not lie about any "sightings". If His Majesty is told that the Blue Spirit was sighted near his window, he will be extremely distraught for the entire day. The Fire Lord has too many real assassins to worry about already. There is no need to add imaginary ones to the mix.

9.1.1. And whenever he is distraught, his footsteps are even quieter than they normally are. It is hard enough to keep track of his movements as it is.

10. While His Majesty has approved the "Kick Ozai Retreat" for servants who were mistreated by Ozai of the Fire Nation (titles rmvd, dishon.), it will never be organized. Please suggest other activities for the Servant Wellness Day.

10.1. Yes, that is because Avatar Aang found out.

10.1.1. Specifically because of the very heartfelt and very long speech he gave on the matter. And the fear that he might give one again.

10.1.2. And no, we can not "simply tell the Avatar to shut up." He is the Avatar. And he is also a 13-year-old boy. His dragonling eyes are very effective.

11. Princess Azula is at the stage of her treatment where she will take regular trips to the palace, dividing her time between her island and here. We're all terrified, but there's nothing we can do.

11.1. Lady Beifong has offered to act as protection, should the need arise. On an unrelated note, the kitchens will now be serving a number of delicacies from the State of Gaoling.

11.2. At the specific and undeniable request of Master Toph, The Blind Bandit, her titles and styles have been updated and they will be enforced effective immediately.

12. If Avatar Aang is seen on a rooftop with no apparent purpose, that means that Fire Lord Zuko is also on that rooftop. Get him down.

12.1. If Master Katara appears to be discreetly looking for someone, that usually means that one or all of His Majesty, Avatar Aang, Master Toph, the Honorable Tribesman Sokka, or the lemur Momo are in some kind of trouble. Assist her. Before one of those idiots gets themselves killed.

12.2. Do not vandalize the handbook, even if it's true. Also, please do not call our Fire Lord, the Avatar, Master Toph, or the Avatar's beloved pet an idiot.

13. Any senior officials who wish to challenge Fire Lord Zuko to an Agni Kai should be directed to the Fourth Scribe's office. They should also be told that there is a waitlist.

13.1. If the Honorable Tribesman Sokka wishes to challenge the Fire Lord to an Agni Kai again, he should be denied. No matter what he tells you, he has not developed Firebending abilities by means of "Spirit World shenanigans" or by Avatar Aang "just giving them to him, Energybending style, like best buddies do, you know."

13.1.1. The Matron has made it known that if the Honorable Tribesman Sokka offers to demonstrate his so-called "Firebending abilities" again, servants are allowed one free kick. The last time he did it, the stench from his blubber bombs lingered for three weeks.

#avatar the last airbender #atla #zuko #prince zuko #atla spoilers #crack fic #fire nation palace servants' handbook #toph #sokka #iroh #azula #ozai #fire nation #katara

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muffinlance · 2 months

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Gift Fic: Zuko the Theatre Gay Discovers Wrestlemania by back_that_sass_up

When Zuko and Iroh get separated in the Swamp, Zuko makes his way back to Gaoling to find himself immersed in the world of professional earthbending. Overly theatrical hijinks ensue.

Welcome to the "The Boulder Adopts Zuko AU" that nobody asked for.

#Gift fic #avatar the last airbender #atla #Zuko #I can't remember if I posted about this fic when it first started so here take (another?) link now that it's finished!#Cracky good times

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iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia · 1 year

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The Arcana HCs: How the M6 like to fluster you

The very late sequel to this post:

How MC likes to fluster the M6

Julian

When I tell you this man is SHAMELESS

Does he fluster easily? Yes. However, being horny on main is his default mode. His own flusteredness will not stop him

Grand, romantic displays of affection. He will write an entire play to perform in the community theatre just to proclaim his love for you from on stage

Any chance to sing a romantic duet, he's pulling you with him. It doesn't matter if it's in public. It doesn't matter if you have the singing voice of an angry hippopotamus

Oh no, he bit his tongue while the two of you were snacking at the food stalls in the market place! Kiss it better?

Oh no, he's getting heartburn from all the street food! Here, help him open his shirt so you can check his chest

Physically incapable of passing a flower seller without buying you one

And then presenting it with the most dramatic flourish and flowery speech he can come up with in the moment

So many suggestive nicknames. So. Many.

Asra

What a tease this sly magician is

They've memorized every single one of your weaknesses, and they love to exploit them

Sensitive scalp? He'll chat with a friend, arm around your shoulders as his trimmed nails drag their way up the back of your head

Holding your hand becomes feather light touches of their fingertips swirling around your palm and inner wrist

He's leaning in to whisper something in your ear, and oh! There's a gentle kiss being pressed to the pulse point below it just before he turns back to what he was doing

Locking their ankles with yours under the table when you're seated across from them

Sneaky compliments. The kind that you wouldn't pick up on if you didn't know that teasing, lazily cat-like face he makes so well

Speaking of facial expressions - they will fix you with the most dreamy, adoring, seductive face for minutes on end. In any and every situation

Regularly uses your bond to let you know exactly how you make him feel

Nadia

Oh, she loooves to see you blush

Very forward in her advances. If she sees you talking to someone, she'll take your hand and press kisses to each fingertip until your breath hitches

Which will make you pause in conversation, which is her opening to steal your attention

Loves feeding you. At dinner parties, offering you a forkful from her plate or sip from her glass and savoring the indirect kiss

In more casual settings, holding pieces of fruit and cheese against your lips so she can brush her knuckles across them

Constantly helping you fix your clothes, jewelry, or hair as an excuse to touch you

Heaping you with detailed and genuine praise in every setting. She can go on and on about your strengths for hours

Will happily trace your facial features with her fingertips while you talk to her

"What am I doing? Oh nothing, just admiring the realms' most exquisite work of living art."

She adores you. And as previously stated, she adores your blush

Muriel

It took a while for him to think of trying, to be honest. Usually you're the one flustering him by simply showing affection

That is, until he caught sight of you blushing as he changed his shirt one evening and thought it wasn't a bad look on you

He didn't like his body before, but if showing a little skin and muscle is all it takes to make you flush, it's an easy sacrifice

Would NEVER attempt any of the following tactics in public, for the woods only:

Removing his shirt for dirty tasks, such as wood chopping, boulder lifting, and (on one occasion) uprooting a small infected tree stump with his bare hands

Carrying you like you weigh nothing whenever you say you're tired

If you're cold, very shyly pulling you into his lap and wrapping you up in his arms and cloak

You liked that flower? He's planting a row of them outside the window

He loves you so much, he will even hold your hand in public if it makes you smile

Portia

Most of the time she flusters you it's not on purpose. She won't realize until you're already blushing and fumbling

Which, let's be clear, she does appreciate

Portia is a force of nature who puts everything she is into loving and supporting and adoring her partner

She will defend your honor and proclaim all your accomplishments with 0 hesitation

She also loves to read. She likes reading mysteries, but you'll also find that she likes reading spicier stories as well

She likes bringing said stories home and reading them out loud to you

She likes using them as inspiration for when she's on a trip without you and wants to send you a particularly raunchy love letter

She likes convincing you to reenact said stories and love letters with her

And she REALLY likes making subtle references to them in conversation at a friend's house, just to watch the heat travel up your face to your ears

You're her favorite character to dream about

Lucio

He likes making you blush. It's a fantastic ego boost and it suits you

But planning ahead isn't his strong suit. If he manages to fluster you, it's because he saw an opportunity, and he seized it

So. Many. Dirty. Jokes.

At first it might feel like it's in poor taste. It's not the most romantic way to woo someone

However, there is a reason he threw the best parties. When it comes to fun, exciting, and pleasurable things, he is creative

You are going to hear innuendos that should not make as much sense as they do

You are going to hear references and suggestions that will make you stop and wonder, "how would that even work?"

And figuring out the answers to that question will make you flush every time

It doesn't help that he's a generally handsy person. He will take advantage of any and every excuse for physical contact in public

Will make an inappropriate noise every time you skewer something to grill it over the campfire. It's his signature joke

#arcana brainrot #the arcana brainrot #the arcana #the arcana headcanons #the arcana hc #asra the arcana #julian the arcana #nadia the arcana #muriel the arcana #portia the arcana #lucio the arcana #the arcana game #the arcana fluff #asra alnazar #julian devorak #nadia satrinava #muriel of the kokhuri #portia devorak #lucio morgasson

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turtlesmog · 2 months

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sokka had fallen--or rather, "slipped" on icy steps, and landed in katara's medicine hut for an hour to heal a swelling ankle. zuko laughed when sokka returned back to the fire nation, telling a story that had grown to include a falling boulder and a baby.

sokka had fallen into the water. before anyone could call out "man overboard", zuko plunged into the icy depths, hell-bent on reaching sokka. later, the two young men (shivering, close to one another for warmth) argued below deck whether zuko had been "a fucking idiot" going after him. in the end, they couldn't agree, so they went to sleep angry. when the woke, the anger was gone.

sokka had fallen to the ground. and zuko followed, as sokka knocked him off balance. their weapons had long been discarded this match, so zuko landed right on sokka with a heavy grunt. for a split second, they sat there, breaths heavy. sokka took that moment to leverage his weight against zuko's and flip them over, pinning him down, a dare in his eyes, to continue the spar. (how long had sokka had freckles?) zuko yielded, and sokka let up. he rose, and offered his hand to zuko, who shakily took it.

sokka had fallen for it. zuko had mentioned his desire for a night out in the town... go to the market... see a local play. unfortunately, all the unorganized paperwork he had to sort through prevented him from such an endeavor. of course, sokka, as foolish as he was, in no time, had created an intricate yet comprehensible system for the paperwork. sokka had played right into his hands. zuko loved theatre, and loathed paperwork. the poor idiot didn't know zuko would've gone out anyway. (strangely, the trick lasted longer than he thought. sokka returned most evenings to help with paperwork)

sokka had fallen in love. zuko was sure of it. he'd seen the look in his eye years before. a certain light. he'd seen it leave after the breakup with suki. zuko was angry. he wasn't sure why, but he was. he had no right, of course. except maybe he did. because he was sokka's best friend, and they spent all their time together, they shared every dream and thought and fear with one another. so how and why was sokka keeping a secret like this from him? Of course that's why he was angry. he was happy for him, too. that light in his eyes might as well have been the sun, to zuko. but knowing sokka was in love with some girl did not make him happy. because of the secrecy of it all. (and no other reason at all)

sokka had fallen on the bed. well... maybe that fall had been encouraged by a slight push from zuko, who couldn't help but stare at every angle of sokka's body in wonder. he was perfect. the way he breathed, the groove of his abdomen meeting his hips, the way the light touched his beautiful skin. soon, he met the man's cool gaze, a gaze that returned a burning desire. sokka tugged at zuko's hands and guided him down to the bed with him, pulling him in for a deep kiss. (their nights were warm.)

sokka had fallen ill, and zuko panicked a bit more than was "cool" or "casual". he prepared a tea that he was sure would make sokka feel better. "that's really sweet", sokka said, "and very cute of you. unfortunately, this tastes like dirt. and you have a meeting. i'll be fine for an hour or two. might even get some sleep without your hovering." so zuko went to his meeting. (and worried about sokka the entire time. and when he returned, he continued worrying about sokka for days until he was better.)

sokka had fallen asleep, right in the middle of their conversation. zuko had half a mind to wake him up, just to force him to be a better listener, or impress upon him the impoliteness he was showing. but as he listened to his soft breathing, and saw the rising the falling of his chest, barely visible under the single lit candle in the room, he didn't. he let him sleep. and like a sunrise, or growing embers, a realization bloomed within zuko. "i love you", he whispered to sokka, who remained sound asleep. and the candle, and the stars, and the moon, and the fireflies all whispered it over and over. (i love you, i love you, i love you, i love you, i love you, i love you, i love you, i love you, i love you, i love you)

sokka had fallen out of favor with gran-gran after an incident of inappropriate language in her house. that's how sokka found himself scrubbing away at the laundry to make up for it. and that's how zuko found sokka mumbling some of that "incident"-adjacent language, following by insistence that he was a "grown man", and "an important political figure". zuko assured sokka that he wasn't there to help him with the laundry (he'd gotten himself into this mess). but as sokka scrubbed, the water started to warm in a way that made sokka stop his grumbling, and start singing an old work song. zuko sat alongside him, listening. this might be the reason he was supposed to be alive, he thought.

sokka had fallen into a routine with zuko that just seemed to make sense. their nights were warm (except when they weren't), and they didn't really fight (sometimes they did). the firelord and the ambassador were content and bright. even days they had to spend apart (which were sometimes weeks), they always found one another again. they would find the rhythm of one another, hearts beating in sync. as long as they kept beating, they would share the rhythm again.

sokka had fallen behind schedule. it was very unlike him, and zuko grew worried. the dancing lights in the sky only lasted so long, and he didn't want sokka to miss it. especially not tonight. he clutched the headpiece in his hand, wondering if it was suitable sokka rarely wore his hair up these days (which distracted him endlessly), so he might not even want it. but the time to dwell on that was far over, as zuko had already crafted the golden piece, and sokka came into view. he offered up a wave, and zuko was at ease. (he didn't at first see the hand-carved necklace sokka carried)

sokka had fallen upon the scene just in time. zuko hadn't even noticed the cloaked figure in the trees above him. he called out in desperation and panic just as the assassin jumped from his perch, knife in hand. zuko barely dodged out of the way, and sprang into action. between the two of them, sokka and zuko managed to restrain the attacker. as the guards detained the ozai loyalist, taking him to the dungeon, a stinging pain made itself known in zuko's shoulder, and he let out a hiss. sokka's eyes darted to the mark of blood growing on zuko's shirt. he would berate zuko for the next hour for being so careless. (he held zuko's hand while the healer stitched the cut) over the next few days, sokka wrote up a new security strategy presenting it to the council at the next meeting. "the firelord's safety was essential to the nation--to the world" he said. (his husband's safety was essential)

sokka had fallen prey to the dangerous attacks of little bumi. the toddler managed to grapple him, forcing sokka into a surrender. zuko cheered bumi on, firmly betraying his husband to curry favor with their young nephew. zuko basked in the feeling of this, and as he saw sokka in this gentle, playful light, another one of those blooming realizations hit him. when they returned him, zuko found an old file (using a very intricate system) an advisor had given him when he first declared his intention to marry sokka. he took out his quill, and studied the law proposal pertaining to his heir.

sokka had fallen head over heels for izumi as much as izumi had fallen head over heels for sokka. the second they laid eyes one another, it was over for zuko. forever the second-favorite dad, and sokka's second-favorite firebender. the little girl was clever and sharp. she took after her father in that way (the favorite one). she was also sneaky and rebellious and outspoken, taking after her father (the second-favorite). back in his days of banishment, zuko never allowed himself to dream of happiness. didn't allow himself to hope for love in this way. but even if he had, zuko didn't think he ever could have been capable of imagining happiness like this.

sokka had fallen. zuko watched it happen. one moment, he stood in complete normalcy, and the next, sokka was diving in front of zuko. and then he fell. the blood wasn't the thing that frightened zuko. it was the glaze in sokka's eyes. zuko didn't even remember killing the attacker. all he remembered was crashing to sokka's side. sokka sokka sokka sokka hey sokka sokka. you're alright. just look at me just look at me just loo--tat's it there we go good you see that? look at those pretty eyes of yours. no you can't close them, can't deprive us of that can you sokka, no you can't. hey hey hey no don't worry about it it's fine you're okay you're going to be just fine you understand you don't get to be anything else because you--

"it was good"

"what? what's that, what was good?"

"our life. us."

"...yes. it w-it is. and it's going to st--"

"shorter than we thought. than we dreamed."

"that's not--"

"but it was... good. that's what matters."

"you're going to be fine."

"you and izumi... you're my... my... and katara, and... and everyone. you... you all know. you all know, don't you? how much i love--"

"please don't"

"you know, don't you?"

"of course we know."

"it was good."

"i love you. don't go."

"it was good, zuko."

and zuko fell into despair.

into pieces. apart. he fell into a hole that he had never imagined even in his darkest times. it was wide and consuming.

he fell into oblivion. he fell beneath the waves.

all he could seem to do was fall which was funny because that's all sokka had seemed to do, too. even the first time zuko had met him, he fell. a brave boy who would protect those under his care at any cost.

he kept falling and falling and falling. revenge didn't keep him from falling. in fact, it dragged him down faster. meditation and crying and screaming and burning and talking and eating and not eating and hoping not hoping and remembering and forgetting didn't help him from falling.

each time he thought he hit the floor of this well of sorrow, it crumbled beneath him, swallowing him in further.

it was dark and his light had been stolen. his light. it was beautiful and thoughtful and stupid and perfect and clever and so selfless and it was gone.

"it was good" (he remembered)

it was gone (he insisted)

but it was good (something said)

at dinner, izumi laughed. a sound zuko hadn't heard in months.

in the distance, he could see something, the edge of the well.

"it was good" (that was true)

but it's gone (this was also true)

but despite it being gone, despite it all, one truth stood.

"it was good"

zuko received hundreds of letters from all nations--farmers and merchants and fisherman and soldiers and old men and children. every letter was a story of sokka, of the way he'd somehow helped them. zuko had thought he'd heard every story, but he somehow didn't know even half of it.

izumi had found a painting. a really bad painting of the three of them. zuko had no idea where she'd found it, but he couldn't help but let out a laugh when she showed it to him.

they found a secret compartment in sokka's desk. letters and poems and drawings and schematics and tickets and lists and ideas and journals were tucked away. izumi crawled into zuko's lap and they spend hours going through it all. as she lay asleep in his arms, he felt that blooming feeling, small and distant and quiet, but unmistakably there.

"it was good"

maybe this well could catch some light again.

#atla #zukka #avatar the last airbender #sort of a fanfic i guess

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no-passaran · 10 months

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Hi! Don't feel obligated to answer, but I've been learning catalan & I'd love to read some novels originally written in catalan, but i'm having a bit of a hard time finding ones that aren't 'classics'. Any recs? (I usually like literary stuff, like, authors irritatingly showing their skill, i eat that shit up, but anything contemporary or psychological or fantasy or anything will absolutely do :,) )

Oop sorry, I hadn't seen the message until now.

You won't have difficulty about this because Catalan literature is very lively and there's lots of great books coming out very often. Catalan literature has been praised around the world for having such vitality and quality, considering that it's a relatively small language community.

Personally the first recommendation that came to mind is Manuel de Pedrolo but idk if you're considering that a classic? He's relatively recent but many 20th century authors have become classics. His Mecanoscrit del segon origen is definitely considered a classic even though it's only from 1974, but I don't think the other ones are usually. Anyway, I really like his sci-fi short stories book Trajecte final, and my dad has spent years obsessed with his theatre play Homes i no. Talking about theatre scrips, I have a really soft spot for La cançó de les balances by Josep Maria Carandell ❤️.

I'm not usually one to read many short stories books but I also recommend Albert Sánchez Piñol's Homenatge als caiguts (stories of about 2 pages long and usually funny, very entertaining to read).

For a completely different vibe of short stories, I also thought El Cafè de la Granota by Jesús Moncada was excellent, the characterization and events feel like hearing your grandparents telling stories of when they were young. I still haven't read his most famous novel Camí de sirga though, honestly I don't know what I'm waiting for lol.

Canto jo i la muntanya balla by Irene Solà has also been very popular in the past few years and she definitely shows off her literary prose. I found it very lovely and I recommend it for when you want something more experimental. It's a book where each chapter is narrated by someone or something different (a shepherd, the rain, a witch who was killed centuries ago, a deer, a dog...) and it's very well written, it has also won some international awards.

And listen for some reason I still haven't read them myself (I plan to change that soon) but the best contemporary author is probably Jaume Cabré. I've only heard the highest praise for his Les veus del Pamano, and other of his books like Jo confesso. I'm planning to finally read Les veus del Pamano this summer and I'm very excited for it.

Another one I've heard lots of praise for and which I'm excited to read (hopefully soon) is Les històries naturals by Joan Perucho. I wasn't going to include books I haven't read besides Cabré (because, let's face it, with a question like this one must include Jaume Cabré) but since you asked for literary fantasy I think you might like it. It's about a knight/botanist who looks for one of Jaume I's knights who is a vampire.

Others that I've had recommended but haven't had time to read yet: Junil a la terra dels bàrbars by Joan Lluís-Lluís, Nicolau by Antoni Veciana, Guilleries by Ferran Garcia, and lots of people have loved Eva Baltasar's Permagel, Boulder and Mamut though it doesn't seem like my style they seem interesting.

I don't know if any of my followers wants to share some more in the comments/reblogs, but I'd be interested to hear them too 👀

#ask #disasterpigeon #coses de la terra #💬

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doomandgloomfromthetomb · 4 months

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BOOTLEGS 2023

The year is winding down, so it's time to look back at the last 12 month's crop of live tapes. Crowd noise, tape hiss, distortion, murk ... and plenty of magic, people! As I do this year after year, I ask myself: "Why do I do this year after year?" I guess it's a habit I can't break. But I do love something about these cloudy recordings — the immediacy, the imperfections, the possibilities. Each bootleg, no matter how lo-fi, contains a glimmer of hope, a potential for beauty and transcendence. The fact that not all of them (few of them, in fact!) really deliver on that promise is part of the deal. The search continues!

Anyhoo, here's a sampling of the Doom & Gloom goods from 2023 to get you caught up ... thank you to the tapers, the archivists, the fans, the innocents.

Sonic Youth - #SonicSummer (Live 1981-2011)

Mazzy Star - The Mint, Los Angeles, California, July 15, 1993

Television - Max’s Kansas City, New York City, August 28, 1974

The Flying Burrito Brothers - Altamont Speedway, Tracy, California, December 6, 1969

Damon & Naomi - Best Video Film & Cultural Center, Hamden, Connecticut, May 12, 2023

Sandy Denny + John Martyn - Sundown Theatre, London, England, October 26, 1972

John Fahey - Carnegie Hall, New York City, Sept. 21, 1973

Neil Young with Booker T. & The MG’s - Los Angeles Sports Arena, Los Angeles, California, September 11, 1993

Prairiewolf - Paradise Found Records, Boulder, Colorado, July 1, 2023

The Band - Wollman Skating Rink, Central Park, New York City, June 30, 1971

PJ Harvey - McCabe’s Guitar Shop, Santa Monica, California, September 25, 1993

Van Morrison - Harvard Square Theatre, Cambridge, Massachusetts, March 14, 1974

The Velvet Underground - The Playhouse, Edinburgh, Scotland, June 1, 1993 (Soundcheck)

Loose Fur - The Double Door, Chicago, Illinois, May 14, 2000

Stephen Malkmus - Mr. T’s Bowl, Highland Park, California, August 13, 1998

Yo La Tengo - The Grotto, New Haven, Connecticut, October 23, 1987

Jonathan Richman & The Modern Lovers - Town Hall, New York City, October 9, 1976

The Cramps - Toad’s Place, New Haven, Connecticut, February 20, 1992

The Dream Syndicate - Crystal Ballroom, Somerville, Massachusetts, September 18, 2022

Gram Parsons - Max’s Kansas City, New York City, March 9, 1973

Tom Verlaine - The Roxy, West Hollywood, California, October 17, 1981

Lou Reed & The Tots - Humpin’ Hannah’s, Milwaukee, Wisconsin, January 20, 1973

Elizabeth Cotten - Euphoria Tavern, Portland, Oregon, February 19, 1975

Sonny Rollins and his Jazz Ensemble - East River Park Amphitheatre, New York City, August 7, 1962

#bootlegs #live music

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miguel-ohara-wifey · 5 months

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I’ll find you

Chapter 3: Follow you

Cowboy!Miguel O’Hara x fem!Reader

Rating: 18+

Prompt: Your past finds you, so you decide weather you’ll take the fight to them or continue hiding. And Miguel’s there no matter what you choose.

Warnings: violence, death, grief, mention of child death, mention of domestic abuse, misogyny

Word count: 3.1K

Under the gently dying light of the setting sun, you and Miguel both sat on the floor of his garden. Your knees’ planted into the dirt permits your balance. As the pair of you picked away at the tiny buds of garlic that’s begun to grow.

Having already harvested the tomatoes, carrots, and eggs from an hour ago. In a short distance from the small rooster shed. Hearing the few chickens he has cluck through the firm black wood. Miguel went on about when’s the right time to pick for fruits and vegetables. Your family were hunters not gardeners, so it was rather educational.

Once the bucket was a third full, he instructs “That’s enough, I’ll let the rest grow for a few more days…” your gave an affirming nod. You stood up, your vision landing on the bulky chipped fence that divided the area of his garden, chicken shed, and goat shed from the rest of the forest. Built low enough so Miguel himself just about see over, but high enough to stop the average predators from climbing over.

He grabbed the bucket from the ground, a dark brown coated the fabric just around your knees. In all honesty half of the picking was getting lost in chatting. About books, theatre, and math; don’t ask how that conversation devolved. Once only the souls of your shoes were pressed to the earth you inquired.

“What’s next?!” With a brimming smile on your face, he laughs “Nothing. We’re done…” you dreaded those words. You needed a distraction any distraction until your eyelids became boulders pressing you to sleep. You then skipped to the fence, unlocking the door saying “Hey I can hunt! Get our next meal ahead of time-“ Miguel violently fidgets witnessing you try to go beyond the door frame of the fence.

“No! Theres trip wires beyond the house!” You paused and drawback inside the fences perimeters. Until it dawns on you. The fence is wide and tall enough to keep predators out of the garden. And he used the word tripwires not animal traps. Your suspicions quake inside your mind and fell from your mouth “Trip wire for what?…” Miguel crushed his lips for a moment, trying to swallow the undeniable pause of how he’s going to work around this. And he manages to do so almost expertly “it’s dangerous for you cause you don’t know where they are. Just stay inside the fence and you won’t get hurt.” Your brows furrow in mild annoyance at Miguel dismissing your bid for the truth.

But again, he’s given you food, a warm bed, and a safe home. You’re not jumping to complain. But not knowing makes you all the more afraid. If anything you get what you want regardless. Your minds too uneasy about what you should expect from Miguel’s past. Than to be from your own.

~~Middle of that night~~

Neither of you could sleep, you wound up just lounging on the couch beside one another. As the veil of night enveloped the forest, with tiny stars shining down. You were unable to see the constellations with the wooden roof above you and Miguel’s heads. Illumination within the cabin was brought in and sustained by a lone oil lamp. It’s canister half gone, propped in the center of the coffee table beside the couch.

You made your arm a pillar for your head in between your hand and the couch’s left arm rest. As Miguel say with his back to his own arm rest, you smiled inquiring “Want to know something Miguel?” He nods quietly letting you speak.

“You’d make a killing with women if you had the least bit of confidence.” He chuckled halfway through your sentence. He grinned at you when his initial laughter faded. He had to say something back.

“Oh don’t worry I have…” you raised your eyebrow doubtfully, teasing “They the type of women who adore when a man dodges every and all of there personal questions about himself? Hm?” You moved your arm off your head, lifting its weight with your neck once again. Pushing your entire back onto the arm rest, mimicking Miguel’s sitting position. He kittenishly grinned, “Oh definitely. Never had anything long term before actually…” his gently wording reminiscing killed his smile.

“Really?” Now that surprised you, you fully expected Miguel to deflect the question or pretend it never existed. But even to Miguel’s own shock, he indulged you “Not for a lack of trying…just accepted I won’t be one to find my soulmate or true love or what have you…” you glued your lips together tighter in thought, you had so many swirling in your skull. As only one possible response arrived to the surface, and crawled through your mouth towards Miguel. You spoke almost shamefully.

“You don’t believe in true love?” Miguel’s eyes had a gleam now, hatched from the back of his mind by what you had said. Miguel’s a sweet man, you’ve seen every shade of his generosity and patience. But nows the only moment in the near two days straight you’ve spent with him. To now actually know him, the mask of niceties and good will cast aside. You catch an edge of bitterness in his face and tone, weather at himself or others you couldn’t tell. Perhaps both.

“I do. Never stopped believing in it, just stopped believing in me…” you unconsciously adopted a look of pity, a stiff frown with an uneven furrow of your brows. Miguel hadn’t said much, but reading his meaning was enough to infer so much of what he had been through. The bitterness sharpened itself as he shook his head, “I don’t know…haven’t thought about it in years…” you sensed his anger was now directed at you.

Receiving pity from you, the woman whose lost her daughter before her very eyes. Was almost killed by her husband, whose had to abandon everything she knows and everything she has just to keep her life. Yet somehow this vague philosophizing of his was worth such pity? You stopped by turning away your gaze from his, now you both are glancing at the floor.

“I’m sorry if I overstepped.” You meekly confessed, he shook his head. With it the buried anger dissipated entirely out of sight “No it’s okay…” you didn’t quite believe him, and by Miguel’s tone he didn’t believe it himself. But you both dropped it, in turn he changed the subject “And honestly, you have a point, we’re complete strangers still despite everything. So for the sake of fairness, may I ask you a personal question?” A nervousness tunneled itself from your chest down to your gut. Leaving an aching emptiness above your waist. You squirmed in your seat giving an approving nod. He asked away.

“Was your daughter the only real family you had left?” Tears didn’t well in your eyes despite the soul destroying fact of the matter that she was. This is a reality you’ve accepted for years. Mona was all you had, your entire life was her safety and happiness. Now both have been cruelly cut short by that soulless monster you made the mistake of having be her father. You know you failed her before she was ever born.

“Yes.”

Your response slightly unnerved Miguel, it was to the point. A rigid mask of acceptance fell onto your face as he asked. Not a crease or dimple of emotion cut through your expression. Plus the following chill of nothing further to add or explain on your end didn’t help matters.

“I’m going to bed. Good night.” You robotically proclaim with a whisper standing up. Then stiffly making your way up the stairs to your guest room. Not giving even a glance of acknowledgment to Miguel before, after, or during. A shamelessly abrupt end to the conversation from you. For once the personal conversation roles were exchanged between you and Miguel. Miguel sighed a breath heavy with regret and stained with shame. And he soon followed to sleep.

~~An hour later~~

What scared you most as you laid in bed, was you had no more tears left. Not for a lack of capacity but desire to expel them. Despite the unignorable reminder of how Mona’s the last person alive who truly loves you and cared for you. And you to her as her mother. You had felt freed, Thomas was always in the backdrop of every waking moment with Mona. He’d rarely raise his hand or his voice against you.

However the smaller moments of demeaning your self esteem, worth, and mental faculties is how he tore you down piece by piece over the years. How he’d literally wave his hand to push you away whenever you approached him at an inconvenient time. He never once would raise a finger to help you with Mona, and when you dared ask he’d either laugh or question why ask him. How he’s the shadow of your entire life with Mona. It was grueling and made you sick in your gut to realize.

Yet you were finally free of what everyone around you expected of you. Not weighed down by your husband, your neighbors, your “friends”. Nor a precious human life that was entirely dependent upon you. In the cruelest way possible, the universe had given you an out.

Miguel entered your room not even a second as those thoughts swam through your mind. You stood up in the bed and asked “What is it-“ Miguel cut you off, he was bent down slightly in the door frame. To mask his visage among the shadows of the dark room.

“The trip wire’s in front of the house went off. Someone’s on there way here-“ he instructed whispery, his warning was punctuated by a crash of a bullet through the window on the furthest wall of your room. He dashed behind the bed as he pulled you down to the floor. You both used the mattress and bed frame as cover. You both hear a voice as obnoxious as nails on chalkboard.

“COME OUT WE KNOW YOU’RE HERE-“ Miguel and you traded aggressively puzzled expressions. It wasn’t someone Miguel or you knew. Could they just be robbers? Miguel didn’t give you time to find out yourself, he pressed a key into your left palm saying “This is the key to the panic room downstairs, just go to the basement and it’s in the stairway cubby. Go there until I get you-“ you scoffed “What?! What if you need help?” Miguel reassured with a weight of annoyance in his tone “Just go I’ll be fine.”

Gentlemanly, he guided himself from behind cover first, allowing you to follow behind crotched beneath the windows’ view with him. As the man kept on shouting, clearing up your questions from moments ago. “Come out whore! Your husband wants to see you!” Miguel mumbled “They are aware you have a name right?” You playfully snarled “Honestly it’s fifty fifty chance.”

That changed things however, your husband knew where you and Miguel were. And paid more goons to try to drag you back. Or kill you, neither of which is happening tonight. But it complicates matters. By the time Miguel and you crawled to the top of the stairs leading to the basement. He looked you in the eyes and mumbled “Promise me you will stay there until I get you.” You huffed quietly, with a “I promise.” Punctuating your silent disapproval. You do plan to stay regardless of how much the idea upsets you.

Beneath the veneer of blackness enveloping the house, you could see the shine of relief pierce across his face. He didn’t do this to control you or get you out of the way. Or ask you to promise as a means of undermining your intelligence. It’s because he doesn’t want you hurt. You can feel the shaking of his blood underneath Miguel’s tanned skin at the prospect of you getting hurt. Once his lightly calloused yet tender palms covers your own. With a discreet rub of his fingers against your flesh. As if to have his fingers savor the rub of you on him. Like one would savor a sweet, hot tea. He then breaks away to head for the front door.

You then make your way downstairs, after sighing in disappointment at the severing of your skin. Once your feet start pushing down onto the creaky steps when you enter the windowless concrete cellar. You hear the front door rush open and Miguel shouting back at them. His words are an intangible fog of his otherwise deep, warming voice. Then a shot goes off right as your done fumbling the key in the key hole of the panic room door.

You pause, then leave the key in the lodge as you face back upstairs. Miguel out front contending with the armed stooges doesn’t hear you rushing upstairs. You remember where he keeps his hunting rifle, when it’s in your grip. You double check to see if it’s loaded. When you see it is, you snatch a magazine. Then get to a prominent spot in the attic. There’s a couple windows, and you choose the smallest one. Less likely to face retaliation and far less of a chance of dropping the weapon.

Through the somewhat dusty scope you attached to it, you view the scene. Miguel isn’t fighting, he’s putting his hands up. Coming to them trying to convince them you’re not there.

“I’m sure this all a big misunderstanding-“

“MY ASS! We know she’s here! Just give her up she’s just a girl, ya ain’t gotta risk it like this partner….” A flash of terror washed over your face. The possibility of Miguel giving you up hadn’t crossed your mind until now. He’s already killed 3 men for you, now by your counting he’ll have to kill 5 more. Not to mention eating his food and sleeping in his bed. Your husband can bankroll an army until he gets what he wants. That’s usually how he handled things. Even if you dealt with these men, more will come. However Miguel responded in kind.

“Search my entire house until you’re satisfied, whoever you’re looking for isnt here! Honest!” Your heart skipped a beat, the presumption that pity is why he was doing all this for you died behind your eyes. You’d blush, if the burn of rage didn’t flare beneath your skin instead. Upon eating up the sight of these men.

These pieces of shit, with no honor or diginity the minute money is thrown at them. They’ll hunt someone down, kill, and brag about it all for tokens of yellow metal. And conveniently wash there hands of all responsibility cause “it was just a job”. Wearing the uniform of the mercenaries who killed Mona no less. A quiet movie only you can see unfolds before you. All the years they sustained your husbands cruelty. Shooting Unionizing workers, robbing people who couldn’t pay his ridiculous fees, shaking down even the smallest of competitors. Mona is just the latest victim of theres you’ve witnessed.

Your lungs start to heave in rage, your finger finding itself shaking against the trigger. The tiny red dot centering the scope hovered almost perfectly in the middle of one of the men’s skulls. The noise of Miguel’s discussion with the men was eaten away by the resentment flooding your brain. All that was left was some ideas of a plan of to do swimming like bugs. But one thought is clear as you bite it through your gritting teeth, Mona will be there last victim.

A soft click was all it took to push the bullet out of the open window, through the man’s skull. You cocked another bullet in the rifle a half moment before anyone below could react. Giving you the time needed to drill a second bullet through another man’s skull.

Before instinctively ducking below the opening, now seeing splitters flying off from the ceiling. By the shitty returned fire of the goons able to fire back. Miguel curses before the sounds of claws tearing apart flesh can reach where you sat in the attic. With the rifle around your body you rushed down to the front door. Hearing the sounds of fighting grow in volume the closer you are to the front door.

Once you swung it open, you had already reloaded. Taking out one of the mercenaries who unluckily stuck his head above cover the moment he came into your view. Once popping a chunk of his skull from under his skin. You realized Miguel was just finished severing one of there necks in half with his talons.

Then launching himself at the last one standing, before he could even pathetically cry for mercy. Miguel’s fangs are planted through his throat. Having his vocal cords and tip of his lungs ripped from his body. He can’t deny having to swallow back vomit watching the scene. But you won’t complain, they’re dead.

Miguel once bus huffing concludes, your grip on your gun loosens in nervousness of what Miguel will say. His shirts natural res washes out the stains of blood. As there bodies litter the road before his house. He looks at you and asks passively annoyed “What the hell?”

Shame hung off of your sunken face, but not regret or guilt. All you spoke in response was “I had to. And when I’m gone they won’t come to your house anymore. I’m taking the fight to these fucks.” As you attempt to match off. Miguel discreetly stands between you and the horizon of the road away, sighing out an understanding “Alright-“

“If you’re thinking of trying to stop me-“ you defensively bite back

“I never said that.” He quieted you gently, he continued with a sad weight on his face. As Deja Vu pressed out from his mind towards his eye sockets. Displaying a look of defeat beneath his eyebrows, his handsome features often plagued with a disquieted despair.

“I know you’ll go weather I come with or not. So I might as well join. Let’s just grab some supplies and another gun, then we’ll be off.”

Now you have infinitely less of an idea of who this man is now than you ever have. Why do all this for you? Food, bed, protection, killing for you. What made you so special? As much as that curiosity eats away your thoughts. You knew this wasn’t the time, you had a child and an entire life to avenge. Not just your own that’s for certain. You gave a determined nod, with a simple.

“Thank you.” Leaving your grateful smile, and just like that. He curved his own lips up in response.

#Miguel O’Hara #miguel ohara #miguel ohara x reader #Miguel O’Hara x reader #smut #18+#tw; death #tw; violence #tw; misogyny #tw; mention of child death #tw; grief #spiderverse #spiderverse au #Cowboy!Miguel #cowboy!miguel #slow burn fic

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freddieraimbow74 · 30 days

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31 March 1974 - Queen’s first headlining gig at London’s historic Rainbow Theatre. This concert will forever remain an epic moment in the band’s incredible, five-decade-long rich history!

The show was properly recorded and was later proposed to be the band's first live album, but ultimately shelved. It was eventually released officially in 2014.

Queen quickly sold-out the 3000-seat Rainbow (which cost just £1.20 per ticket) marked a turning point in the young band’s career – and secured Queen as one of the era’s most exciting new acts.

Freddie is seen in an elegant new white outfit at the beginning of the show, created by designer Zandra Rhodes. Rhodes explained in 2013, "I hadn't designed any menswear before then, but I realised he'd need a flamboyant look. It was a very exotic time for me, I remember Queen gave me tickets to their show in London shortly after I’d made the first pieces for them. You could imagine that white top onstage and it was just absolutely amazing. It’s always wonderful when someone puts on your clothes and just feels lovely.”

Rhodes also said, “Freddie was a hidden revolutionary in the fact that he dressed exotically and wore make-up. I think he was probably one of the founders of the androgynous movement in fashion.... The thing that’s so fabulous, is that Freddie in my white pleated top went on to become one of the iconic images of him. It’s incredible to be part of that history!”

“We’d done our support tour and then promoter Mel Bush came to us – he was a pretty top promoter at the time – and he said ‘I think you guys can headline the next tour’, and we were surprised,” recalls Brian May in the mini-doc.

“I remember thinking ‘Wow, that’s very quick,’ because normally you would support a few acts and build a following, and then you would go on your headline tour. But he said ‘No, I feel you can do it, you can sell out all these places’ and he gave us a big list – Newcastle City Hall, Manchester’s Free Trade Hall or whatever, you know all the sort of classic gigs that rock bands do, and he said ‘you can fill all these and at the end, we’re going to do the Rainbow.’”

The adoring fans who turned up for this iconic performance could have predicted that Queen would go on to become arguably the world's best and most successful rock group, although many more may have suspected it after this stunning show.

Here is a review by Rosemary Horide, a major force behind Queen's early popularity:

"What a night! It was a finale of the big Queen tour throughout the whole country. It was the conclusive evening for their reputation. Their lift was meteorical. So many people had challenged if Queen had the authority to play in such a prestigious place as the Rainbow. Freddie appeared in his new specially eccentric white "eagle's" costume, bouncing and miming with even bigger ecstasy than ever and sang even better than any time before. One couldn't believe it's the first time of Queen appearing themselves in such an important place. After a while they got used to taking advantage of the big stage. After two encores they left the stage during a big applause of the audience."

This phenomenal performance showcases Queen at their loudest, Rawest and heaviest. Roger Taylor is downright frenetic at times, his fills rolling like boulders. John Deacon is predominately a fingerstyle player With his solid and inspirational playing that helped them all to shine. And of course Brian May’s musicianship is precise and masterly, and the harmonious, melodic chemistry between himself and Freddie is undeniable. There’s no one quite like Freddie as his voice was electrifying and soothing like fine silk. A must watch concert for everyone.

In a 1975 interview Roger Taylor explained their choice of attire: "It provides a good contrast, I think, on stage. We like most of the actual colour, apart from the extremes of black and white, to come from the lights on stage" (in a mid-80s interview John Deacon reminisced about how Freddie and Brian dominated the songwriting in the early days but that Roger was very involved "on behalf of the overall image of the band and how to actually be a successful rock band").

After the show, a teenaged Simon Townshend, younger brother of The Who's Pete Townshend, told Freddie Mercury backstage that Queen were "much better than my brother's band." Freddie was thrilled with the compliment, even coming from a 13 year old. Interestingly enough, in a 2005 Uncut interview, Brian May declared his belief that The Who were the better of the two bands.

Many years later, Brian May reflected on playing the Rainbow: "We had a dim, distant vision of what Madison Square Garden might be like in America, but really no idea of what it was." He added, "After that, everything was a bonus. Everything was something which I had never even dreamed about."

The next time Queen would perform at The Rainbow was in November during their ‘Sheer Heart Attack’ tour and due to popular demand, a second sold-out night was added.

#freddie mercury #queen band #brian may #roger taylor #jhon deacon #musique #music #queen #original character #j’adore

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