#Jamieson Place

[rabbitcruiser]

Downtown Calgary (No. 6)

The entertainment district is located along 8th Avenue South. It contains the pedestrian mall of Stephen Avenue, lined with restaurants and shops, enclosed shopping centres (including The Core, Scotia Centre, Bankers Hall and The Bay), as well as Calgary's only art house movie theater (the Globe Cinema) and recreation areas such as the Devonian Gardens. Landmark buildings found in this district include the Hyatt Regency Hotel, which incorporates several historic buildings into its facade, the Calgary Marriott and Fairmont Palliser Hotel. Landmark skyscrapers in this district are Scotia Centre, Bankers Hall, and Eighth Avenue Place.

The "Udderly Art Legacy Pasture", a collection of decorated fiberglass cows built in 2000, is hosted mainly in the Centennial Parkade, while other particular exponates are spread throughout the city.

Source: Wikipedia

[butlervibesonly]

𝑁𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑘𝑒𝑑 𝑏𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟 || Austin Butler

• Summary : You and Austin have been together for a while now and he's attending a premiere with you by his side, making sure you're comfortable enough with public appearance.

• Warnings : fluff, Austin's playful teasing,...

• Pairing : Austin Butler x female! reader

• Notes : For this fic I'mma be using the Elvis (2022) premiere that took place in Australia (hope I found that right!) because Austin here looked MESMERIZING.

You and Austin have been together for some time now, and with upcoming premiere of Elvis, you two decided to make your relationship official to public. It was actually a first premiere you'll attend.

The day of the premiere arrives, and Austin was making sure you're ready and okay. "You ready?" he came out of the dressing rooms that was in your hotel room. He was headed to the mirror to adjust all sorts of details on his outfit but he noticed you.

Austin actually made sure you had a stylist if you wanted one, or offered to help you pick an outfit himself if that made you feel more comfortable. All he wanted is for you to feel confident, knowing he’ll be there to support you through the evening.

And as soon as he noticed you in the dress that his stylist helped you pick - he was taken away. "Oh my goodness," he breathed out. "Look at you!" Austin made his way to you. You were sitting on the bed, putting on heels. The dress you chose for the premiere was a gold glittering elegant dress that perfectly suited the aesthetic of the film.

"You look absolutely firkin' fantastic, baby." he helped you stand up. "Thank you, Mr. Butler, you don't look bad yourself." you giggled and Austin pulled you closer. "Are you ready for tonight? Do you need anything?"

"I'm totally fine, Austin, thank you," He was making sure all the time that you have what you need. "all I need is you by my side, that's what I wish." you pressed a kiss on his lips. Oh, and how you love those lips. Austin smiled and after being all ready, you two left in a car for the premiere.

When arriving to the place, just before stepping out of the car, he turned to you, noticing the hint of nerves on your face. Gently, he reached for your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Remember, it’s just me and you tonight,” he said, his eyes warm and focused on yours. “Don’t worry about anyone else. I’ve got you.”

As you stepped onto the red carpet, camera flashes started going off everywhere, and for a second, it was a little overwhelming. But Austin kept a firm, grounding grip on your hand, guiding you through it with a calm confidence that made you feel like nothing else in the world matters. When you paused for photos, he never let go of your hand, staying close and offering small reassurances. If he noticed you feel a little out of place, he leaned over and whispers something funny just for you, making you laugh and helping you relax.

As time passed by, the red carpet filled with many familiar faces you already knew from filming of Elvis, such as Tom Hanks or even Baz himself. "Y/n, sweetheart, you look absolutely breath taking!" Tom pulled you into quick welcoming hug. "Thank you, Tom!"

"I'm telling her that all the time! Glad I'm not the only one who sees it." Austin laughed, wrapping his arm around your waist. "You sure aren't, I agree.” Baz joined in to say hello too. You were so relieved and glad that everyone involved in this movie was so nice.

At one point, a few reporters asked for an interview. He turned to you, giving you the choice with just a glance. When you nod, he smiled, his gaze full of pride and admiration.

"Austin, we couldn't notice - you're not alone here tonight! Who is this beautiful lady by your side?" An interviewer asked Austin, who brought you closer to him. "I'm here with Y/n, my girlfriend. I'm so happy she's here with me tonight, looking this magnificent!"

Austin's word made you blush, almost as if he was over the moon you're here with him. "A girlfriend, wow!" an interviewer exclaimed in surprise. "She truly looks wonderful! Y/n, how are your feelings about today's premiere?"

"I'm so honored to be here today with so many inspiring and amazing people. And especially to be here with Austin, of course, and give him all the support he deserves!" Austin couldn't help but smile while listening to you.

Throughout the short interview, he made sure you’re included, deflecting the attention when it became too much and even cracking a joke about how he’s the lucky one to be here with you.

As the evening shifted, Austin's hand rested protectively on your lower back. “Thank you for being here with me tonight.” H whispered, and then, even with all the people around, he lifts your hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to it as if he’s completely unaware of the world beyond you two.

Later that night...

"So," he said, looking at you with a soft, relieved smile as you were again in the hotel room, "how was your first red carpet?" You smiled back, feeling like the night has been perfect—not because of the glitz or glamor, but because of him and how deeply he cared to make sure you felt comfortable, supported, and absolutely cherished.

"It was wonderful, babe," you replied. "And I'm not the only one thinking that, look," you passed him your phone with a Tweet that you just found.

"But they can't love you more than I do!" Austin joked as he pulled you into a hug, kissing you finally.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Dave Jamieson at HuffPost:

Last week, attorneys for SpaceX and Amazon began arguing cases in federal appeals court that could upend the U.S. collective bargaining system that’s been in place since the New Deal. The aerospace company, owned by billionaire Elon Musk, and the world’s largest online retailer have both been accused of violating their workers’ rights. To defend themselves, they now claim that the structure of the agency enforcing the law, the National Labor Relations Board, is unconstitutional. Powerful employers mounted similar — and ultimately unsuccessful — legal challenges against the NLRB after its founding 89 years ago during the Great Depression. But there is one crucial difference today: a right-wing judiciary shaped by President-elect Donald Trump that’s steadily chipping away at the regulatory state.

The repercussions could be immense. The NLRB oversees private-sector union elections and investigates thousands of allegations of illegal union-busting every year. Although it barely has enough funding to enforce a highly imperfect law, the labor board is often all that employees have to turn to when companies violate their rights to form unions or speak up about working conditions. Other employers accused of breaking labor law have adopted the arguments of SpaceX and Amazon, and a slew of similar cases are working their way through the federal court system. The question could eventually end up before the Supreme Court, where a conservative supermajority could all but gut the agency with an aggressive ruling in corporations’ favor. The litigation falls against the backdrop of a new Trump administration that may fire the board’s Democratic members before their terms are up, or decline to defend the agency’s constitutionality in court. Though workers and unions are accustomed to a corporate-friendly takeover of the board following a GOP presidential victory, they now face the prospect of the board falling into dysfunction.

[...]

‘A Perilous Place’

The constitutional challenges worry not just unions and their attorneys but many of the workers who’ve turned to the board for help. The NLRB has no ability to fine employers or seek damages for workers who’ve been illegally fired or retaliated against, and its cases often drag on for years due to appeals. But it still can serve as a check against companies’ worst behavior and deliver some justice to employees who’ve been wronged.

Erin Zapcic, who helped lead a union organizing effort at Medieval Times, said her blood “ran cold” when she learned about the SpaceX case. [...] Congress passed the law establishing the labor board in 1935, to create order around collective bargaining at a time of economic and social upheaval. The independent NLRB has a bipartisan five-member board in Washington that reviews decisions handed down by administrative law judges. It also has a prosecutorial arm led by a general counsel. The president gets to nominate the general counsel and new board members as their staggered terms end, reshaping the agency’s agenda when the White House changes hands. The cases brought by SpaceX, Amazon and other employers attack the board on several grounds. They claim that the board members and administrative law judges are unconstitutionally protected from removal by the president, and that the way the NLRB handles unfair labor practices violates the employers’ right to a jury trial.

[...] Jennifer Abruzzo, the board’s current general counsel appointed by President Joe Biden, has called the lawsuits a distraction from the companies’ own alleged lawbreaking. Her office has accused SpaceX of illegally firing several workers because they had criticized Musk, and Amazon of refusing to bargain with the Amazon Labor Union after its groundbreaking 2022 election victory at a New York warehouse.

[...]

‘A Pandora’s Box’

Despite his glaring conflicts of interest as SpaceX’s owner, Trump ally Musk now has the president-elect’s ear and could end up advising him on NLRB matters. That includes whether to fire board members, who to replace them with and whether the Justice Department should defend the agency against Musk’s lawsuit. Trump’s only labor pick so far is surprisingly moderate: For labor secretary he has tapped outgoing Rep. Lori Chavez-DeRemer, an Oregon Republican who has supported pro-union legislation. But his approach to the NLRB may be far less gentle, especially given Musk’s history with the agency. SpaceX has called the labor board’s structure “the very definition of tyranny.” Jeff Hauser, director of the Revolving Door Project, a nonprofit that tracks corporate influence on the executive branch, said he finds Musk’s cost-cutting advisory role to Trump particularly concerning, since it won’t have the same kind of oversight as a Senate-confirmed Cabinet position. He doesn’t believe Musk’s influence bodes well for workers or the NLRB. “He hates unions almost as much as he hates trans people,” Hauser said. (Musk has a long history of making derogatory comments about transgender people, including his own child.)

Elon Musk and his hatred for unions knows no bounds.

[chardbones]

Headcanons on going to the beach with Junkrat

AN: I haven't written in awhile so I decided for some short headcanons for my boy Junkrat. I might add more in the future

Warning: only a tiny mention of nsfw but it's really small

- The two of you rarely go to the beach and when you do it's always as far away from people as possible

- You both like your privacy because one, Jamieson is kinda of a wanted criminal (along with you) and two, the both of you can enjoy being yourselves without others staring and judging

- Junkrat having absolutely no clue how to swim and you teaching him

- Igniting bombs under the sand to make a giant whole instead of digging

- Jamison running around the whole beach and bringing you the most beautiful seashells

- You giving him a kiss every time he comes back with more

- Him resting his head on your stomach as you both lay underneath a beach umbrella

- Him trying to chase you in the water but you are way more experienced in swimming so you without difficulty swim away

- You diving down and swimming behind him to scare Jamison out

- Definitely making at least one sandcastle where you put little dried wood pieces all over the place and light it up making it look like the place is on fire

- If you two spot anyone in the distance, you both make sure to be extra loud and more graphic about how you're going to commit certain crimes

- That has always worked like a charm. No matter what person or people sped walked away and you guys never saw them again

- Having a waterproof arm and leg custom made for Jamieson so he has an easier time swimming and moving in the water

- Diving down and picking up random things for the sea bed and Junkrat being completely amazing at how deep and long you can go/stay underwater

- Helping Junkrat put suncream on his back and after he's covered fully you give him a few pecks on the lips

- The both of you making out your towel as the sun is going down which leads to a bit of more spicy touching but nothing too much

- The rest is left for when they got back to their home

- Blowing up the sand castle with a stick of dynamite while laughing like crazy together

- Making a giant bonfire in the evening and roasting some meat on it for supper

- Definitely another makeout sesh next to the fire

- Mako picking you guys up after you decided to go back home

- Having a joined bath to wash away all the salt water

[perfectlysunny02]

oh you already know I'm gonna ask for as much heal as you'll give me so 👨🏼‍👧🏼 ♾️ , and also 💌💌💌

please, thank you, and I love you ❤️

ellieeeee! i love you to the core.

the emoji is doing something weird now that i’m on my phone instead of my laptop, so heal- There was one thing that you just don’t do when you’re a fireman, and that’s utter the Q word. He wished someone had told the fucking new probie, Ravi, that, because maybe then they wouldn’t be climbing into the truck, everyone glaring at Ravi, and Eddie swearing up and down that there’s no such thing as the Q word curse.

Everyone’s looking at Buck almost like he’s supposed to do something about it, and so he does the best thing he can. He knocks his knee against Eddie’s and inclines his head in a way he knows that tells Eds to drop it, and surprisingly Eddie does.

And he’s so focused on the way Eddie just listens, he almost doesn’t hear the waiver in Bobby’s voice as he calls out the location of their next call, and it isn’t until everyone’s looking at him like his cat just died that Buck realizes that he missed something important.

“What?” he asks.

“Buck,” Hen says, and Buck’s stomach dropped. Because that’s her mom voice, that’s the soothing voice she has when she tells a patient something life altering, before she changes, and crushes the world around them. And Buck doesn’t want to hear what she has to say next, he begs the universe to keep it to themselves, he’s been punished enough, but no such luck. “It’s Jamieson Elementary.”

He’s reeling back from her and into Eddie. He can’t breathe, and his turn coat is absolutely too heavy, the name echoing in his brain over and over.

“That’s… that’s Lia’s school! She’s at school today! Cap!” he doesn’t know what he’s calling for Bobby for, there’s nothing Bobby can do, but it doesn’t stop the begging in his voice. He begins to tug at his seatbelt, trying to get it off of him, he isn’t sure how, he can hear Ravi ask who’s Lia before someone, Chimney perhaps, tells him to shut up. He feels Eddie place his hands over his and squeezes. He’s trying to ground him, but Buck can’t breathe, it’s almost like an out of body experience.

💌- “You want to come home, Tommy? You can still come home, bug.” Elizabeth tells him. “My front door is always unlocked for you, always.”

“I’m already home, El.” He says, his voice breaking. This house hasn’t felt like home in quite a while but he’s not ready to leave yet. He’s not ready to give up. He can’t give up.

“Just think about it, bug, please.”

“I will,” he promises. “I will.”

[lesewut]

Elena Percivaldi shows the graphically most beautiful and interesting pages of various celestial atlases, often in full-page format and in high quality. The author provides short and knowledgeable captions that explain the necessary context or refer to particular details of the illustration. There are also biographical sketches of the cartographers, which place their work in the context of the history of science. List of Content Peter Bienewitz Apian: Astronomicum Caesarum, 1540 Johan Bayer: Uranometria, 1603 Julius Schiller: Coelum Stellatum Christianum, 1627 Andreas Cellarius: Harmonia Macrocosmica, 1660 Johannes Hevelius: Prodromus Astranomiae, 1690 John Flamsted: Atlas Coelestis, 1729 Johann Gabriel Doppelmayr: Atlar Coelestis, 1742 Johann Elert Bode: Uranographia, 1801 Alexander Jamieson: A Celestial Atlar, Comprising a Systematic Display of the Heavens, 1822 Urania's Mirror, 1824 Elijah Hinsdale Burritt: Geography of the Heavens, 1833

[dailydemonspotlight]

Melchom - Day 122

Race: Fallen

Alignment: Neutral-Chaos

October 8th, 2024

While I commonly point to the Ars Goetia for my demonic sources, another popular compendium of demons is the Dictionnaire Infernal, possibly the most popular and influential compendium on the metaphorical market. Filled with many fun facets and facts for understanding and enjoying Demonology, the book introduces several important concepts such as the demonic hierarchy and what society to demons may look like overall. The influence this book has is easy to see in many series that take inspiration from satanic works, and, of course, SMT is among those many. One standout figure from the pages of the book, however, is today's Demon of the Day, and a personal favorite- Melchom, the banker of hell.

Melchom's name and role share many similarities with Moloch, a major biblical figure that represents a lot of sin and evil. While, in Hebrew, Moloch means 'king,' it is typically referred to in the Bible as the name of several forms of sin that typically involve child sacrifice. Melchom may be an aspect or avatar of Moloch, though it's very vague, as his name is also similar to many other completely different figures- Milcom, for instance, who is another Ammonite god referred to in the Bible. We can put together from this, however, that Melchom was once an Ammonite deity in much the same vein, if not being the same as, Moloch or Milcom. However, for whatever reason, the Dictionnaire Infernal makes a stark reference to Melchom as his own being, putting him in a separate entry from Moloch and calling him the "Paymaster of civil servants." So, why is this?

According to a commentary on the Bible by scholar Jamieson Fausset Brown, the Ammonites worshiped a usurper god that they lived alongside within Gad, one of the twelve tribes of Israel. However, after the tribe of Gad was chased down by the Israelites, Melchom fell from his spot of divinity and became a demon, separate from Moloch, as, from what I can interpret, Moloch and Melchom had different methods of worship and different tribes overall: after all, Moloch was a Canaanite god, and Melchom an Ammonite one. (For the record, Ammonite in a biblical context refers to a race of people close to the Hebrews, not the funny little shell guys. Sorry to disappoint.) Now separated from his place of worship and a feeble demon once more, Melchom took up his job as the paymaster of hell, getting a single mention alongside his more powerful contemporaries in the Dictionnaire Infernal. To quote,

"Melchom, demon who carries the purse; he is in hell [sic] paymaster of civil servants."

Now, in terms of design, the stunning artwork from the Dictionnaire Infernal has been translated well into this far more cartoony but still accurate and fun imp-like paymaster. Everything has been adapted swimmingly, whether it be his goat hooves to his tail, even to his face stuck in a smug expression. However, again, it takes a far more cartoony lens which I honestly enjoy, with bat-wing ears and a big ol' necklace with a dollar sign on it to indicate his role as paymaster of hell. Overall, a fittingly goofy design for a demon whose fall from grace was equally as goofy, going from a god to a lowly paymaster. Still, I'd rather him than a landlord. At least a demon won't pretend to be nice while draining your wallet.

[dk-thrive]

if you listened to my chest it would sound like a river ice breakup

I promised no poems about you. I'm sorry: I managed to leave you off the page but couldn't stop writing about love. Soon the snow will melt & we'll climb mountains with nothing but shoes on our feet. I'll take myself places I haven't been in years. The future feels wide open, I feel wide open. If you listened to my chest it would sound like a river ice breakup, like I just learned how to breathe.

— Kyla Jamieson, "Vernal Equinox" in "Body Count" (Nightwood Editions, September 29, 2020) (via Regina Rosenfeld)

[transbookoftheday]

Camp Prodigy by Caroline Palmer

Perfect for fans of Victoria Jamieson and Raina Telgemeier, this heartwarming middle grade graphic novel follows two nonbinary kids who navigate anxiety and identity while having fun and forming friendships at their summer orchestra camp.

After attending an incredible concert, Tate Seong is inspired to become a professional violist. There’s just one problem: they’re the worst musician at their school.

Tate doesn’t even have enough confidence to assert themself with their friends or come out as nonbinary to their family, let alone attempt a solo anytime soon. Things start to look up when Tate attends a summer orchestra camp—Camp Prodigy—and runs into Eli, the remarkable violist who inspired Tate to play in the first place.

But Eli has been hiding their skills ever since their time in the spotlight gave them a nervous breakdown. Together, can they figure out how to turn Tate into a star and have Eli overcome their performance anxieties? Or will the pressure take them both down?

[isay]

Chances are that when you think of Australia you tend to think of the beaches, Sydney Opera House, or the red centre and Uluru. Most people by and large tend not to consider that we also have gigantic forests and mountain ranges.

So anyhow, taking advantage of the Chris died for my sins public holiday yesterday, we decided to head out for a drive because Kim has had a hankering to see leaves changing colour with the advent of autumn. We'd planned to head to a place called Jamieson up by Lake Eildon, stopping on the way for lunch at Mansfield, which in winter is the gateway to the snowfields and the skiing at Mount Buller.

Now to get to Jamieson was nice and easy, about a two and a half hour drive on decent enough roads. Not exactly major roads by any means but perfectly capable and comfortable to drive on. But then in Jamieson, with about 120 kms of gas left in the tank we decided to take a 'scenic route' for the return journey.

After forcing Google Maps into choosing a route south along minor roads off we set, oblivious to what lay in wait for us. Essentially a good two and a half hours on unsealed roads, up and down mountains with the traction control freaking out constantly. Both Kim and I are terrible passengers as we both like to have control of the car, but yesterday I got to ride shotgun, which often meant staring off over a sheer drop into a bottomless gorge.

And did I mention the 4x4s that are built to do this that think nothing of roaring along those roads at 60-80km an hour, billowing up clouds of dirt you can't see through? Yeah we came across a few of them too.

Halfway through we also realised that we were likely to run out of gas before making it back to civilisation. Thankfully after about an hour or so and with 60ks of gas left in the tank we made it to a township (pop.30) called Woods Point which showed it had a 'historical gas station'. No actual gas station though.

Thankfully though it has a pub, the Commercial Hotel, which is now my favourite pub in the world. Because it also sells petrol. Just enough to get us back to the 21st century. Off we set again, leaving Brigadoon behind us, grateful that our visit coincided with it's once in a century appearance.

Another hour and a half of time travel through the land that time forgot and we finally hit sealed roads again, much to our palpable relief. Then weaving through some of the most gorgeous driving there is to be had in this world, winding roads surrounded by forest still, and hardly a soul sharing them with us. We finally made it safely home after three and three quarter hours of adventure.

So the moral of this story? There's a reason why Google Maps is sometimes reticent to send you down the road less travelled, and you might want to listen to it. Or you might not, because you'll see things others hardly ever get to, have a grand adventure and you might get to find the best pub in the world.

[inkyquince]

The Other Miguel (Part 1/2)

characters. Miguel O'Hara (Spiderverse)

content warning. nothing much in this chapter, the next chapter is the nasty one (hint, baby trapping, noncon). Reader has the ability to get pregnant, but its gender neutral, either way, it's implied that spider radiation gave you a hyperfertile hole (so either fpreg or mpreg is able to take place). There's more... Talking about twilight-new-moon type depression, some angst, verbal altercations. There's some puppy love and a light hearted sex scene in here too. That, and the hint of darker intentions. Also you read this and you get to know how much of a nerd inky is about spiderman, there's characters and lore dropped that is very much comic book based.

words. 6k.

Joining the Spider Society was the greatest privilege you had ever been given in your life. You didn’t think they’d ever really accept you, being as new as you were to the position as the friendly neighbourhood spider. Especially when it came with the scrutiny of being the… “Second” one. The next one. The protege. The one mentored for far too short before he died. When Peter died. Freak accident. You were there. You held him as he died. 

And that’s when you met him. Among the collapsed building, the strange villain that glitched and spasmed and seemed to throb through the thin strings of reality, still gearing up to attack you. Something seemed to slice through the air next to you, a gash appearing, swirling and malevolent. At least at the time. Then he walked through. Gait predatory and sure, towering over you, where you were sitting in the dust and rubble, with a body in your arms that struggled to draw breath. 

“We’ll handle it from here.” 

And he did. Miguel liked to handle things his own way. He handled the villain easier than your Peter had. He handled the situation. He handled you. His broad, clawed hand encompassed your entire wrist as he pulled you up onto your feet. Telling you that he’ll contact you later, and congratulating you on the new position. You had a feeling he was being sarcastic. 

He left then. You were left behind with a lingering promise that you weren’t alone. You were also left with the body of your mentor. You begged and begged him to hold on, Just a few more minutes. But he couldn’t. Not for you. Fuck, not for the ambulance, not for his fucking girlfriend, what’s-her-face, Betty, and not for the entire fucking city who needed him more than they needed you. 

“It was a shock.” Betty had sniffed at the podium, his casket in front of her. “I knew he was private about things but-” 

But. But. But. Peter Parker was Spiderman. He had been Spiderman. He was alive. He had been alive. Betty had confided in you that she had begun to think Peter just didn’t like her. Which was dumb. She was like his first proper girlfriend and she was worried that he didn’t like her. She was mulled over breaking up with him and now she was crying because she didn’t know that all that time away, he was fighting for the city. Fucking Betty. Even Jamieson was gruff as he spoke about Peter. 

You didn’t get to say anything about him. You didn’t get to walk there and cry for him, like Betty did. Like MJ did. You didn’t get to take a breather and grip the podium, like his Aunt May. You didn’t get to get choked up and stare ahead, like Jonah. Even Eddie Brock was allowed a few soft words, his eyes looking wet and wide. 

You didn’t get to walk up there and talk about how Peter found you. He helped you. He compared the spider bite he got with yours. You didn’t get to smile and share stories about how he made you watch the Matrix first before talking about the leap of faith you had to take. When he teased you for your suit design, before squawking like a bird when you found his notebooks of his own first designs. 

No. You got to sit at the back, as the little friend Peter made at some sort of function or whatever. Photography, or some sort of hobby class. No one asked. You were just there one day. His little friend. Not the person he saved and spent weekends, nights, lunchtimes with. So, you stood by everyone else as they buried him. You left the third bouquet of flowers on the grave, you were the twelfth person to offer condolences to Aunt May. You were the last to leave. Long after Betty and May, you were still there, sitting at the back, on the bench. Eventually, he came to join you. 

Miguel sat down, towering over you even seated. 

“It had to be like this.” He eventually said, something heavy in his voice, as if he had any idea. 

“Go fuck yourself.” You dragged your sleeve over your face. Not that it did anything. The tear tracks would need to be scrubbed away by bleach. They would have to be dug out of your skin with nails and knives and claws. 

He tensed up, as if struggling to not snap at you. Probably doesn’t get a lot of back talk that wasn’t light hearted teasing. 

“... I’m sorry.” He tried again. 

You wanted to punch him. If he had come earlier, then Peter might still be alive.  Then he’d still be here. Taking pictures of himself as you snorted at his elaborate set ups. Ducking Betty’s questions. Going to Aunt May’s every Sunday. Teaching you. Being with you. 

Your silence seemed to agitate him. Good. 

“I wanted to… Extend an offer to join our group.” 

You repeated the earlier request for him to go fuck himself and stood. Rubbed at the tear stains tattooed onto your face at this point and you walked off. He watched you go. 

A week later, you were in his dark ass office, being shown around at the different villains and Spider people. You even got another look at the villain that took your Peter from you. Shocker. Fucker. Hell, you knew your own universe’s Herman. Nice guy. 

So life went on. 

You help out when you can. You saw Miguel. You went home. You cried. You mourned on and on. The hurt never felt like it lifted. You miss your Peter every day. There were others around, other Peter’s, but they weren’t yours. Even when some recognized you as that “sweet kid”, or something like it, in his voice, in Peter’s voice, it did nothing but make tears prick at your eyes. It was fucking unfair. So many Peter’s and none of them yours. 

Life went on, and you watched it go. The flowers bloomed without him, the days changed without him, and someone sat next to you in photography class… Without him. 

Worst of all, it was him. Your Miguel. No, not yours, but your world’s. Younger. Not as beefy. Leaner. There were no lines curving along his eye, and he was looking at you. Spider Miguel looked at you darkly, as if you were two steps away from pissing him off and he was warning you not to. There was always something glimmering. 

Your Miguel’s eyes crinkled as he shot you a smile. Asked if you had a pen he could use. Uttered a soft thank you as you handed one over. 

It was nice. Seeing him like this. As if it let you in on a secret, on someone he might have been once upon a time. A light hearted guy that was kinda… Whiny. Instead of becoming tense, with his teeth gritting when you teased him, he’d scrunch his nose and he’d fucking whine at you. He’d say he wasn’t, but the way his tone would shift higher when he wheedled you to knock it off. It was kinda cute. Made you want to ask Lyla if the other Miguel had ever been like that. If he ever had to whine at another Spiderperson for pointing at him or something. 

“What’s that smile for?” Your Miguel caught your attention as he idly filled up your kettle. 

“Hm?” 

“That smile. I feel like you’re making fun of me in your head.” He eyed the jar of coffee you bought especially for him. 

“Maybe I am. Maybe I’m making fun of your pretentious ass coffee.” 

“Not pretentious.” Miguel eyes you darkly, but there’s something light in them. Of course, there was also that whine tilting at the end of the sentence. Cute. 

“So pretentious.” 

“Is not.” 

You smiled at him. 

“There you go. Making fun of me in your head again.” He muttered. 

You kinda wanted to fuck him. You’d wonder if he’d whine as much in bed as he did staring at your cabinet, with your ensemble of hot drink sachets and bags. 

You shook your head, the back of your neck feeling hot. Don’t be gross, you chided yourself, this was Miguel. A Miguel. You knew two. Sleeping with one will make you look at the other all weird. What if your Miguel fucked really badly and then you’d quietly think about how the other Miguel is a two pump chump through every damn meeting. Worse, if he fucked really good. How were you supposed to concentrate if you knew your gut that he could make you cum three times in a night. 

Glancing up, you caught your Miguel looking at you over the rim of his coffee cup, dark eyes glinting. His lips quirked when you noticed him. As if he knew what you were thinking. Which, of course, he didn’t, at least not all of what you were thinking. No, that would blow his entire fucking brain up. 

His bottom lip cushioned the rim of his cup as he took another sip. His eyes glimmered. Yeah. He at least knew you were thinking about fucking him. At least half as much as he was thinking about fucking you. 

Well, according to the buzzing coming from your back pocket, that would have to wait. 

“Alright. I’ve got to get this. Pour your pretentious coffee into a to-go cup and get out.” You shot him a grin and his dark eyes turned brighter. 

“Oh fuck you.” 

He wished. Then you wished. God, you wished you stayed behind for a fuck as the other Miguel ground you into the dirt beneath his heel. Not literally, but Christ, that man could wear down a boulder into a pebble. 

Other Miguel always seemed to take particular issue with you. Fuck, maybe his idea of getting you to join this damn team finally bit him in the ass. His ambivalence at first might have been ground into flat out dislike, except he did more or less talk to everyone the same way. He just seemed especially short with you at times. 

You did have sympathy for the guy. Overworked, probably underpaid, but then again, that would be him shooting himself in the foot. He ran the entire thing, didn’t he? Underpaid himself… Did you even get paid with this job? How much did you make an hour-

“Are you even listening to me?” Hot breath washed over your ear as Miguel leaned down to growl to you. 

You froze up a bit, real… Well, not deer, but a shitting rat in the driveway as the car reverses… In the tail lights. Yeah, shitting rat in the tail lights. Less dignified than a deer. 

“Yeah. Sure. Sorry. Yeah.” You tilted your head at him, given he wouldn’t be able see the placating grin you shot him.    

“Then what did I just say?” He folded his arms and cocked his hip to the side. 

“Something something, don’t fuck up again or I’ll kick your ass?” 

Miguel took a moment to stare at you with that inscrutable mask but apparently you were more or less on the mark. You already knew what he was going to say the moment you fumbled your attack and instead went tumbling ass over heels to the side. Miguel was forced to divert from his path to grab you at the last moment. Hell, his entire hand could just grab your waist and actually keep a hold of you. Fling you like a ragdoll into the air after a beat of a second, with him towering over you, chest heaving as he stares down at you. Just a second, he was close, and protecting you, and holding you firm, like the first time he did when you met him. Then he threw you. He knew you would easily swing to safety, but still. 

Your hip tingled where his broad, clawed hand had held you tight. Like a brand seared into your skin. You cocked your hip a bit, as if trying to throw off the feeling of his hand, and his angular spider mask eyes seemed to follow the movement. Or he could be looking at the mess around you. Rubble and collapsed building, with the dimension breaking villain, a Goblin maybe, tied up to the side. 

“Could have been hurt.” Miguel muttered, sounding gruff. 

“You mean someone else could have been hurt. A civilian could have been squashed into an innocent-life-pancake.” 

“No.” He snapped, his broad shoulders tensing up further. You could see the fine line of his muscles through the suit. “You.” 

The word hung in the air, just like the day you two first met, and the dust hung in the air, suspended in time. You bloodied, Peter wheezing at your feet, and Miguel watching. The moment broke a second later, but the memory was imprinted in your mind. You could taste that moment in the air, now. 

“You.” Miguel repeated. 

You understood. One Spiderman died on his watch, and he was going to make sure he didn’t have his protege’s death on his conscience too. It was already littered with graves. Tightly packed graveyards had the tendency to flood when it rained. You doubted he would enjoy the bones drifting down his stream of thought while he was busy. 

“... He…” You tried, feeling the words get caught up in your throat, as if cobwebs tied your vocal chords together. “It wasn’t your fault he-” 

“I know.” Miguel snapped at you, suddenly back in your face, fanged teeth bared like an animal. “I didn’t fail Peter.” 

His emphasis on the “I” gave you pause. As if he was not the person in the equation to blame. 

“... You think I-” 

“I don’t think. I don’t think anything of you.” He folded his arms. The words tumbled from his lips, as if he couldn’t wait to get them out, but his eyes blinked as if he was bewildered. 

A part of you hoped he misspoke, that he just meant he didn’t think you were to blame for the situation, but his immediate response, that he didn’t…. Well. It wasn’t like you two were friends. Mentor and student, even if you had started to crave that with him. That leadership that your Peter gave you. No, it was stupid of you to look for the friendship you had with your Miguel, with the other one. The other one that let your Peter die. 

“... Great. Thanks.” You turned away and dusted the dirt off your suit, shoulders hunched.

“You know I didn’t mean it like that.” He huffed, shifting his weight as he cocked his hip so the side again. “I’m not to blame for him dying. He was injured when I got there. You, however-” 

“Yeah. Me. I let him die. I hear you.” You hated that your voice sounded brittle. Tight, like you were about to cry. 

“You-” 

“I know!” You finally snapped, your throat getting tighter. “Fucking hell, I get it.” 

Miguel’s shoulders tensed. You kicked a piece of rubble and fiddled with your watch. 

“Let’s just ditch this conversation while we can.” You eventually mumbled. 

“Don’t you dare walk off while I’m talking to you.” Miguel snarled, the rest of his body tensing up. 

You ignored him, as the blinding orange and red lights of the portal slashed through the air next to you, opening up the way back to your own dimension. He took another step towards you, his hand reaching up to slip a thumb underneath his mask. You couldn’t argue with him, not with your Miguel’s face looking at you, tired and aged.  

“Pretty disrespectful.” Goblin agreed, somewhat muffled. 

You started, having completely forgotten your surroundings, and the Green Goblin tied up, snug and tight off to the side. Miguel was just as startled and ripped his hand away from his own mask. With his attention back on the villain, he turned away from you and you slipped away. Back home. 

Empty apartment. No Peter. Just you. You and your phone buzzing with a message, a simple request to come over. Not so alone maybe. 

“-you.” 

“Huh?” 

“... C’mon, don’t make me repeat it.” Your Miguel scowled at you. You’d think he was pissed, if not for the darkening blush dusting his cheekbones. You felt kinda bad, having zoned out while he was talking, the other Miguel’s vast back tense in your mind’s eye. Your Miguel cleared his throat a bit, and shifted on the sofa seat next to you, this time turning to look at you head on.

There was a beat of silence. He sighed. 

“Mierda.” He dragged his fingers through his hair. “I like you. There. Get to bare my soul twice now.” 

You blinked. 

“Like friends?” 

“I’m going to leave.” Miguel grumbled, the tips of his ears a deep red at this point. He started to get up but you grabbed the sleeve of his grey jacket. 

“Miguel, wait…” You tried to calm your suddenly racing thoughts, flitting between how much you wanted to tell Miguel that you felt the same, and about the ethics of the situation, that this was an alternate universe version of a man that was your boss and didn’t seem to like you. 

What the fuck would you do? If you found out that other Miguel had found a different universe’s you and started going out with them? How would you feel? Not that your feelings could ever match Miguel’s, you could barely even understand HIM most of the time. 

You chewed on the inside of your cheek for a moment, fingers curling into his soft sleeve. Miguel watched you, getting a bit antsy. You were too lost in your own thoughts to notice the simmering look that entered his eyes, and he started to lean into you. It was like you blinked and suddenly he was face to face with you, his nose gently bumping against yours as his dark eyes looked into yours. You don’t even know what he saw in your expression that gave him the courage. A matching look of barely controlled heat? A somewhat doe eyed blink up at him? Or your teeth sinking into your bottom lip as his hand dragged along the back of the sofa, just so his finger tips could skim yours? 

It didn’t matter. Whatever he saw gave him courage, and barely a second could pass before he leaned in fully, his hand coming up to cup your chin. His fingers were smooth, warm against your skin, gently dragging his thumb over the edge of your jaw. 

It was nice. It was good. It was an innocent kiss, his lips warm and soft against yours. You could feel his breath tickle your cheek as he angled for a deeper kiss. So sweet. It made you remember back to kisses with high school boyfriends, chaste and eager. You sighed into it softly and Miguel leaned in further, a hand slipping to graze his fingers over your knee. 

After a few more blissful seconds you both parted, Miguel’s ears a dark red, but now there was a triumphant glint in his eye as he looked over you, like a hunter casting his eye over his freshly snagged prey. And you? You made your choice. 

“Hey, Miguel?” 

“Yeah?” 

“I might just like you too.” 

Miguel’s shaky exhale of breath came so fast it almost sounded like a moan. His fingers against your face lost their soft grip, instead cupping your jaw with intent as he leaned back in. 

This kiss was not as sweet and innocent as the first one. His tongue immediately slipped between your lips, just to drag greedily over your front teeth. The fingers skimming your knee stopped their idly skating, and instead began to firmly squeeze your upper thigh. You were foolish to believe that your Miguel wasn’t as suffocating in his presence as the other Miguel. The way he greedily pushed against you, his hand abandoning your face to press against the sofa back behind you, chest to chest… He encompassed you. As his teeth teased your bottom lip, biting into it gently and tugging, you could finally see how he could become the man you knew, the Spiderman with the fangs of a beast, and the clawed hands of a predator. It was always lurking, in the way he appraised you, and in the way he was currently tugging at your shirt, a poacher skinning the elusive creature he had spent months stalking from the brush. 

The lines between your Miguel, the soft eyed, gentle man you had met in a class, and the other one, the one with a beast crawling underneath the suit of a hero and the skin of a man, were blurring. Your Miguel was just a few steps away from becoming just like the version that saved your life. 

If your Miguel noticed how hazy you were getting, he said nothing, but the curve of his smile said it all. His ministrations were going straight to your head, as his lips kissed from yours, down your throat, to focus on making marks against your skin. 

His lithe hands dragged over your freshly bared skin, thumb lightly ghosting over your nipple before pressing down on it and rolling the sensitive tissue between two of his fingers. He was skilled, his hands experienced, and his tongue devilish as it tasted the skin that he pinched between his teeth. You didn’t even notice that you were practically malleable in his grasp, your own fingers simply gripping his jacket, head tilted back as your breath came too quickly. You didn’t care, you needed this. You needed to just lay back and let him have his way. Every day you forced yourself to move, to work, to think, and your Miguel seemed more than okay with taking charge over you. 

You didn’t object when he pushed you down on the couch, towering over you as he roughly tugged his own jacket and shirt off, to be thrown and forgotten on the floor. 

“You’ve got a really pretty pair.” Miguel said, almost conversational, as he dragged a hand over your chest, thumb flicking your nipple before dropping a kiss to your sternum. 

“Well, so do you.” You lightly teased back, reaching out to smack his own pair of tits, but he grabbed your wrist, instead pressing your fingers against his mouth, dark eyes trained on yours over them. 

With one hand dragging over your stomach slowly, as if he was stroking over a pet’s belly, he parted his lips to taste your fingers against his tongue, dragging the hot muscle over the length of your digits. His teeth gently grazed the tips. He was also greedily undoing the buttons to your trousers, able to yank the garment down, trapping your thighs together, with just one hand. 

He pressed another open mouthed kiss to your fingers before dropping your hand in favour of restoring his full attention to your trousers. To be fair, you could return the favour. The fucking monster already tenting in his trousers was a sight to behold. There was a small dark patch at the tip. Your stomach flipped when you realised it was precum. This man was desperate to fuck you. He hid it too well, the way he had hungered, but his body was unable to lie in this moment. The way he shifted, the way his lips were slightly parted, the way his tongue dragged over his bottom teeth as he finally got your trousers off and tossed them to the side. Miguel didn’t even seem aware of the rush of breath that escaped him at the sight of your underwear, using one big hand to palm at your crotch greedily, yet almost clumsily. 

He moved to peel down your undergarments, but you slipped your leg up from between his thighs and firmly pressed your foot against his chest. 

“Not so fast.” You teased, but the way his dark eyes shot up to yours, flashing with something fiery, made your throat dry. 

Just like the other Miguel. Didn’t like being interrupted in his mission. Almost made you smile. 

“Your trousers shouldn’t be on right now.” You swallowed and finally continued, shooting him a shaky grin. 

Miguel’s eyes softened again and he snorted, rolling his eyes. He dragged his palms over your hip bones again before straightening up and beginning to undo his belt. 

“Such a little pervert.” He murmured, a lopsided grin tilting at his lips. 

“Hey, just trying to level the playing field.” You quipped back, but you couldn't deny that your eyes were hungering for the sight of your Miguel, completely bare, just for you. 

He deigned to ignore you as he finally wrestled his belt off and glanced around for a bare piece of floor, not yet littered with clothes. He stuck his tongue out a bit as he tossed the offending garment, and managed for it to snag onto the front door handle for only a second before dropping down. 

“Missed.” You smirked. 

“Didn’t. The door handle fumbled the catch.” Miguel eyed the item before continuing to unbutton his trousers. 

“Still counts as a miss I think.” 

“It fucking does not.” 

“Does t-” Your teasing died on your tongue as he yanked his trousers down to his thighs. 

Of course the man didn’t wear underwear. Obviously threw the entire idea of boxers out the window when he made up his mind that today was the day he was going to confess to you. His foresight was better than the other Miguel’s damn hindsight. 

It was unfair how fucking perfect his cock was. Precum slipping down, riding along the veins down to his swollen balls. The head of his cock dark, almost painful looking. It twitched a bit as your knee brushed past the tip, bobbing a bit as Miguel gave up on trying to get his trousers fully off without moving from his knelt position on the sofa. Resigning himself to his own trapped thighs, he playfully swatted your foot away from his chest and went back to peeling down your underwear. 

Despite not being pressed against his skin anymore, you could still feel his breath hitch in his chest. 

“Pretty.” He dragged his hand against your inner thigh and gave it a squeeze. “Real pretty.” 

His thumb greedily stroked along the hot skin, enjoying how you squirmed and sighed as you drifted over the sensitive flesh before arriving at your hole. Just dragging his finger over it had you squirming. But his intense attention on you, vulnerable and open to him, had a thought squirm into your head and burrow down. 

“Hey, Miguel?” You caught his attention again, his soft eyes meeting yours. “... Do you have a condom?” 

Some Spiders became infertile from the radiation poisoning. Others got hyperfertile. One guy laid eggs. You really didn’t want to find out in which category you fell into, not right now. 

His thick eyebrows rose a bit, before twitching. 

“Yeah, sure.” He fussed with his trapped trousers, pulling his wallet out and digging around just to toss a length of wrapped condoms down onto your stomach. 

“Wow.” You snorted softly. 

“What?” 

“You were THAT sure you were going to get lucky after confessing your crush?” You grinned at him, idly picking them up and dangling them. 

“Oh, shut up. I always have them in there.” Miguel rolled his eyes and used the moment to finally kick his trousers all the way off before getting back into position and swiping them from you. 

“You ALWAYS have them with you?” You teasingly pressed your foot against his broad chest again, idly dragging it down to his stomach before counting each individually wrapped condom. “What, you walk around, hoping to get to fuck nine times?” 

Miguel neatly grabbed your ankle, pulling you down more to rest it on his shoulder, dragging his fingers along your shin. Nefarious glint in his eyes. 

“Why are you asking? Jealous?” 

The accusation had you flushing, your cheeks heating up immediately as he sneered in triumph, pressing a kiss to your ankle. 

“Shut up.” You grumbled and Miguel gave a husky laugh in response. 

He considered the matter settled, using his teeth to rip open the foil to one of the condoms. With a low breath, he rolled the material down, over his cock, to the base before tossing the foil, letting it flutter down, onto your shirt. Miguel tossed the rest to the side, in easy reach for when there was inevitably a round two, and shot you another teasing smirk. 

“Happy?” 

“On Cloud 9. Not even God could strike me down now.” 

Miguel rolled his eyes and grabbed your other ankle to place it on his shoulder, pressing down a bit as if to make sure you won’t shift it away. 

“Perfect. Now, let me prep you before God waltzes in through the front door and punishes you for safe sex.” You managed a snort before he grabbed your waist and dragged you against him properly, so your ankles were shifted down his back and your knees rested on his shoulders. 

With you closer, Miguel got to wind his arms around your middle and hoisted your entire body up, so your back was no longer touching the sofa, and you could feel his hot breath rushing over your sensitive hole. You couldn’t even take a moment to swear, when his tongue was on you. 

The feeling of his hot, wet muscle dragging over you shocked your system. It had been so long since you slept with someone, meaningful relationship or one night stand, it didn’t matter. You had been wrapped up in your own personal cloud of sadness, you couldn’t even think of sex. So long without a warm body next to you, and now Miguel’s scorching one was hunched over you, his tongue lapping hungrily over your hole before pressing the tip inside, just enough to make you gasp and arch your back. 

“A-Ah, fuck!” You hissed out between your teeth, arching your back as he lapped at your hole, dipping the tip in every now and then. 

“Relax.” He murmured against you, one of his hands pressing on your stomach, manoeuvring you properly, making sure you couldn’t even dream of wriggling away from him. “Relax for me. Can’t fuck you if you won’t fucking relax.” 

Miguel’s tongue was brutal. Tasting you, wriggling deeper inside of you, one hand on your stomach, squeezing the flesh with the other one groping at your chest. Using his nail to press down on a nipple before using the pad of his thumb to ease the sting of his pinch. He kept swapping his hands, always needing one hand on your chest and the other on your stomach. Lavishing them with attention and relishing the feeling of soft flesh at his mercy. But there was only so much a hot blooded man like him could take, with his cock straining and precum smearing against your back.

Giving your glistening hole one last kiss, he slowly lowered you so your back was flat against the couch again. Miguel took a moment to drink you in fully, a fine sheen of sweat cascading down your body, your hole spread and ready, and most delectably, the blissed out look on your face. 

Cute. As if you had no idea what was coming, what he was dying to do to you. Like this was the highest level of pleasure he was going to bring you to tonight. Miguel leaned down to press a kiss to your stomach before shifting his weight. The cute gasp you made when he nudged his wrapped cockhead against your hole nearly killed him. 

Leaning down, his broad hand slipped around the back of your neck, pulling you in for a soft kiss, turned sharp with his teeth hungrily biting down on your bottom lip, tasting your tongue, your flesh. With your tongue trapped between his teeth, he slowly pressed his cockhead in, pressing close to swallow down any whines you made. The push inside was slow and methodical, drinking in the feeling of your tight, warm hole around his throbbing cock. He had spent too much time thinking about this moment, so much time with his hand cupping his balls, and his tongue trapped between his teeth as he scrolled through your pictures. It was biting him in the ass now, the feeling of his balls aching so badly that he felt like he was about to burst. Miguel refused to fucking cum when he just bottomed out inside of you, like some virgin. 

He stayed inside of you, nibbling and sucking at your lips gently, both desperately buying enough time not to fucking cum at the first thrust, but also drinking in the feeling of getting to taste you like this. Everything he had dreamed of, and more. 

“I think…” You murmured after a moment, Miguel’s kisses trailing down your jaw. “I think we might have to use all nine of those condoms.” 

You felt him snicker against your skin and he slowly pulled out, waiting just a moment before slamming back inside of you, deep enough for you to arch your back. 

“Feeling that ambitious?” He murmured, before dragging his tongue up, over your pulse point. “Might regret that. Gonna be the fucking sorest in the world after all that.” 

“So cocky.” 

“I aim to hit the expectations I set for you.” 

The second sorest person in the world, well, in a world, was second Miguel. Worse, it was an emotional soreness. His body ached from the fight and chest ached from the one that followed just a few minutes after, between you and him. It shouldn’t. He had worse spats just talking with Lyla. But ever since he… He witnessed your Peter’s death, watching you try to get back from it, just… Everything. He’s had… Not exactly a soft spot, for you. More like… Sore spot. Yeah, that worked. Every time he saw you, it twinged. There was an ache, thrumming underneath his suit, bruising his skin. He couldn’t see it, but he could feel it, right there, between his ribs, as he breathed in. It hurt every time he inhaled around you. It hurt worse when he wasn’t around you. 

And now, today’s fuck up? It itched. It burned, and no amount of distracted rubbing against his covered chest with his palm eased the feeling. It plagued him. So much so that a few hours into the night, he had enough. Kicked his sheets off and hunting for his boxers to slip on. He should be sleeping, but Miguel couldn’t stop thinking about the words you two shared that day. It was the middle of the night over in your dimension, he could slip over, take your annoyed berating at his entrance in the middle of the night, apologise… Then leave again. Some part of him wondered if you’d ask him to stay, to share a cup of something warm at your table, to properly talk, get everything out. It’d be nice. He wasn’t that close to anyone, and maybe… Maybe it would be something of a balm for his sore spot. Something to alleviate the pain and maybe one day it wouldn’t twinge with regret anymore. 

A rare smile flickered on his lips as he pulled on his jacket. Yeah, no downsides. Except… If you had someone over? His fingers stopped skimming over his watch at the thought. No, you wouldn’t… Would you? Nah. You didn’t seem too interested in connecting to other people in that way, which Miguel could relate to. With a shake of his head, he vanquished those pesky thoughts. No, he was just trying to look for a reason not to go to you. 

He wasn’t a coward… Though, perhaps, he should knock on your front door, instead of appearing in your living room. Just in case. What could go wrong?

[scotianostra]

On March 5th 1759 the lexicographer and church minister John Jamieson was born in Glasgow.

I know most of you will not have heard of Jamieson, but his publication, Etymological Dictionary of the Scottish Language, is credited with keeping the language alive. He was a bit of a polymath though and learned in many fields.

The language I am talking about here is Scots, the Scot’s Tongue as it is often referred to, If you have read some of my posts I like to dig out documents etc from days gone by, a most of these are written in Scots, you only have to read the poetry of Robert Fergusson or Rabbie Burns, the vast majority which is written in the language, or up to modern times if you have read any of Irvine Welsh’s books, you will know that as a language it is distinctly different to what is termed as “proper English”

Anyway a bit about the man, Jamieson grew up in Glasgow as the only surviving son in a family with an invalid father, he entered Glasgow University aged at the staggeringly young age of just nine! From 1773 he studied the necessary course in theology with the Associate Presbytery of Glasgow, and in 1780 he was licensed to preach.

Jamieson was appointed to serve as minister to the newly established Secession congregation in Forfar, and stayed there for the next eighteen years, during which time he married Charlotte Watson, the daughter of a local widower, and started a family. Their marriage lasted fifty-five years and they had seventeen children, ten of whom reached adulthood, although only three outlived their father. He next became minister of the Edinburgh Nicolson Street congregation in 1797 where he guided the reconciliation of the Burgher and Anti-Burgher sects to a union in 1820.

In 1788 Jamieson’s writing was recognised by Princeton College, New Jersey where he received the degree of Doctor of Divinity. His other honours included membership of the Society of Scottish Antiquaries, of the Royal Physical Society of Edinburgh, of the American Antiquarian Society of Boston, United States, and of the Copenhagen Society of Northern Literature. He was also a royal associate of the first class of the Royal Society of Literature instituted by George IV.

Jamieson’s chief work, the Etymological Dictionary of the Scottish Language was published in two volumes in 1808 and was the standard reference work on the subject until the publication of the Scottish National Dictionary in 1931. He published several other works, but it is the dictionary he is best known for.

He had a particular passion for numismatics, and it was their mutual interest in coins which led to the first meeting between Jamieson and Walter Scott, in 1795, when Scott was only twenty-three and not yet a published author. Jamieson was also a keen angler, as the many entries relating to fishing terms in the Dictionary attest; and published occasional works of poetry, including a poem against the slave trade which was praised by abolitionists in its day. Entries provided by Scott include besom, which he described as a “low woman or prostitute,” and screed, defined as a “long revel” or “hearty drinking bout”. I wonder how many Scottish females have been called “a wee besom” by their mothers with neither really knowing it’s true meaning!

Jamieson’s association with Walter Scott was a two way thing, he wrote a Scots poem ‘The Water Kelpie’ for the second edition of Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border.

It was through his antiquarian research that Jamieson developed his practice of tracing words (particularly place-names) to their earliest form and occurrence: a method which was to be the foundation of the historical approach he would use in the Dictionary.

Jamieson wrote on other themes: rhetoric, cremation, and the royal palaces of Scotland, besides publishing occasional sermons. In 1820 he issued edited versions of Barbour’s The Brus and Blind Harry’s Wallace.

Revered by authors including Hugh MacDiarmid, who used it to shape his poetic output, Jamieson’s dictionary has long been regarded as a crucial groundwork which kept alive the Scots language at a time when it was in danger of falling into obscurity.

John Jamieson died on July 22nd 1839 and has a fine gravestone in St Cuthbert’s graveyard in Edinburgh, as seen in the fourth pic.

[aeneia-art]

@alfajorconnoisseur TY! That is good to know!

I can actually explain the knowledge that it's hilariously, not that strange for it to happen!

Let's talk education in Junkertown for a minute bc I think between Junker Queen and Junkrat's dialogue we probably have something like the truth, found in the middle. ("that's a knock against the Junkertown Education system!" "We've got an education system?!") There is probably nothing you could point to and go 'that's an education system' from a colonial-European schooling mindset that would be recognised beyond themselves as having gone to 'school'. But there are children in Junkertown and parents who potentially have to leave for many hours a day, if not weeks, depending on who they are and what they do. Single parents and orphans as well, would also become common and ordinary. That means like any burgeoning community, there is a need for child care. Whiiiich given that shot of Odessa playing with the kids and them being in a group, yeah there seems to be something.

So then let's talk about potential Junker-population types. Saying that everyone is ex-military is probably very broad, this is a world-war situation for a country that was invaded and decimated, MOST people probably ended up signing up, so most people probably have military structure backgrounds, now. Of those, half of them might have been full-time military personal before the war (I say under only because again, most of the army was probably killed in the war), and many probably had jobs before that in civilian life in yes, dozens of fields. Which between potential military training structure, actual ex-teachers and child care workers, and people who just, you know, like working with kids there are enough people to form through either being told to do it, or volunteering, something of an early stages tutoring system to teach Junker children the basics of literacy, numeracy and practical survivor skills for their new world. (always remember education is relative to the society in which we live, and there is probably as much emphasis on reading and math, as there is on identifying finding water in the desert and so on).

So now we've got a baby Junker, ready to graduate Junker Primary School of Swearing and Knife Throwing and knowing enough English to read the "hazardous chemical, do not eat" sign and how to count their treasure effectively. They're now ready to graduate to join Junker Society with further education! Their childhoods probably end young, similar to pre-industrial societies, by 14-15, kids are probably expected to have their shit together and be providing for themselves.

This is where it probably completely dissolves past any 'classes' and becomes what you might roughly call apprenticeships. Whereas a young Junker gets roped into existing work their parents or elder siblings might be doing, or finds someone willing to let them hang around to teach them the ins and outs of certain skill sets they are already showing an aptitude for. There is time and interest in non-survival skills, of course, creativity is the baseline of humanity.

But what are the chances of a bright-eyed and bushy-tailed Jamieson Fawkes finding someone to teach him shit like bomb-making and periodic tables?

Funny that, not only is it possible but he has potential options!

Option 1: Sappers. Aka the most likely option. Otherwise known as Combat Engineers, or yes, Sappers as they are called in the Army (it's a term dating back to the 1700s from tunnel diggers in England during whatever war was happening this week, that has been kept since then), are highly specialised in well, a damn lot of things, but amongst them are construction (bridges, roads, fortifications, etc), demolition (of all those same things), and bomb placing and clearing. Their motto is informally here known as: First in, Last Out and they are incredibly important to any military, and especially ours.

As you can imagine, that's a lot of chemistry (periodic table knowledge, and yes, his bomb construction) and mathematics (zeno's paradox is a calculus problem that actually comes up in understanding bridge building n shit, apparently, source: my housemate is an engineer whose favourite math joke is about this paradox and the difference between engineers and mathematicians lmao, he also said, that once you are already in this field, it's actually not considered super advanced or anything, necessarily, to be taught specifically, but it's something that gets passed around to remember in the back, so it falls into 'general math nerd knowledge'). The Combat Engineers of the Australian Army is the fourth-ranked corp of the army, with 15 regiments and an entire dedicated school to it alone, called the School of Military Engineering. An entire separate education option JUST for the men and women in this field (it's not uncommon either, btw, many armies worldwide have it). Which, I just need to throw away a certain concept: getting into our military is actually really hard. They do not just accept any 18-year-old who has no idea what else to do with their life straight out of the gate. They want life experience on them, and a degree if possible.

In fact, they will pay for your university, if it's a military desirable education, in exchange for three years of service when you finish it. The reason why is basically that we do not have the numbers of other armies, so we best make every single member of the armed forces is damn good at what they do and is efficient and sensible about their job as possible. Also to be clear: I do not say this to glorify our armed forces or the things our armed forces have done and continue participating in, but to understand that we fundamentally treat it with a process of education mattering a great deal and prize knowledge whether it's life experience or university education and a high desire to work in a team, over brute strength glory. Bright-eyed 18-year-olds with nothing in their heads is not the preference in the modern day, and people that age with no further education plans can and will be turned away many times before acceptance into our military - most people I know that tried at that age got rejected three, four times before being accepted. So it's actually not impossible to find officers and commanders in our armed forces, across the board, with everything from bachelor degrees to full-blown PHDs in their fields. (I remember meeting a recruiter from the navy for instance, who was Captain of one of a ship, she - SHE, BTW - told us how everyone on the ship, from cook to captain, were trained in star navigation. That is, how to navigate without equipment, completely, just looking at the night sky, in the case of emergencies. )

And I'd say there is some merit to this. Blowing up a WHOLE OMNIC CORE that APPARENTLY HAS NUCLEAR POWER? Is actually not done easily. That requires an advanced understanding of nuclear reactors. Those things are obviously made HYPER STABLE, it's actually hard to just destabilize them unless a lot of things go wrong.

AND WHAT WAS ALF AND JUNKERTOWN FOUNDED BY? A bunch of veterans. The likelihood of running into one of these guys is pretty damn high given how many there are in the army, and oh, this is just the Sappers, who are Combat Ranks, there is a whole SEPERATE group for logistic support to the army, which does all this stuff in variation as well. So yeah. This is by far the most likely.

Option 2: Farmers. Wait, what? Yeah. Seriously. Outside of people who actually work in agriculture, they never realise how crucial chemical knowledge is to these guys. Not only is agricultural chemistry its own field, but there is also an everyday importance to it. For different reasons, of course. Pesticides, Herbicides, Fertilisers, Worming treatments and their effective application of them all can have serious consequences if it fucks up. If a farmer does it wrong, he can risk killing whole crops or all his livestock, and potentially his neighbours too, if he poisons the water in the process. Also yes, there is a hell of a lot of shit in everything I just mentioned, that can explode it stored improperly and cause fires. Or if it's mixed the wrong way. It only takes bleach and vinegar to make damn chlorine gas, and fertiliser is actually a key part of rudimentary bomb-making. Guess who often has a lot of that shit for various reasons? There is often a lot of mechanical knowledge needed as well on those huge pieces of equipment, from tractors to irrigation and yes, in turn, math is needed in high amounts. Then there is also, just because you're country, doesn't mean you don't have access to university, btw, we have what is called Agricultural College, or Agg College as we call it. They offer courses in yeah, Agricultural Chemistry, and Agricultural-needed Engineering. I've met as many cattle hands in the process of this education as not. Hell, fucking Mako might have hung around the same kind, before the war.

Option 3: Miners! As we've gone over, mining is a huge industry in Australia, and we have a lot of kinds! You know what you use in mining a lot??? EXPLOSIVES! Not to mention a hell of a lot of people that know certain elements on sight, to know what they're digging up. Not to mention, once again, ENGINEERING! Those tunnels need to be safe! Can't send people into them and have them collapse so once again we are needing maths and chemical knowledge of many kinds!

Option 4: this is the one I understand people will squint at but I am putting my foot down as an aussie, to say again: this place is our home that we like and as many non-military, non-country people, would fight and die for it just the same. Many university-educated in niche areas people would want to go out there and fight for that scrap of memory, even knowing the risks, as the people who used to live out there. From pub owners to PHDs in astrophysics. We are a modern, multicultural country, whose history dates back 60,000 years, we have a high rate of education, and many of those people would fight and resettle in that area. There would be a wide variance in reality of Junkertown that reflects modern Australia. Finding an advance teacher of calculus whose job it was that week to mind some kids? Not unlikely as it seems on paper. That he or she is a little bemused that this teenager will sit there and learn calculus theories from them? Must be nice to be able to talk about it again.

In reality, I think it's possible it's all four, in regards to Junkrat, assuming he's the same friendly bugger in childhood as he is now, and followed all sorts of people around, accumulating knowledge as he went.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Dave Jamieson at HuffPost:

The Labor Department said Tuesday that it would be phasing out a long-running and controversial program that allows certain employers to pay workers with disabilities less than the minimum wage. The new rule eliminating the program follows years of pressure from disability rights groups and is meant to deliver on a campaign pledge from President Joe Biden. But its future is uncertain due to likely legal challenges as well as the incoming Trump administration.

Kristin Garcia, deputy administrator of the Labor Department’s Wage and Hour Division, said the reform is consistent with the principle that workers deserve fair pay for a hard day’s work. “For too long, workers with disabilities have been left out of that promise,” Garcia told reporters Tuesday. The federal government’s endorsement of a sub-minimum wage for workers with disabilities dates to 1938, when Congress created a wage floor under the Fair Labor Standards Act. Eligible employers receive certificates from the Labor Department allowing them to pay well below the federal minimum wage of $7.25 per hour. A 2023 study from the Government Accountability Office found that around 120,000 workers were employed under what are known as 14(c) certificates, so named for the section of the law that allows them. Half of those workers were earning less than $3.50 per hour.

Many of the workers are employed in community rehabilitation programs and nonprofits, including Goodwill, and the vast majority have an intellectual or developmental disability. It’s common for these workers to earn wages on “piece rate,” so that they’re paid according to how many tasks they complete in a given time rather than a standard hourly rate. While backers of the program argue many employees will lose their jobs without it, critics say it’s an antiquated practice that discriminates against an entire workforce and furthers income inequality.

[...] Under the proposed rule, the government would no longer issue new certificates allowing a sub-minimum wage for workers with disabilities. Existing certificates would be phased out three years after the rule goes into effect. Workers employed under current certificates could remain in their jobs, but the employer would have to pay them at least the federal minimum wage of $7.25 per hour.

President Joe Biden (D) is following Illinois’s lead in proposing a phasing out of the subminimum wage for workers with disabilities. But will this proposal survive the 2nd go-around of the Trump Administration?

[foreverlilmeowmeow]

Showering for You (Junkrat x reader)

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Summary: Junkrat wanted to shower because you had asked Roadhog where he had been. What Junkrat didn't know was that after burning himself in the shower, you were the one to save him.

Warnings: Nothing that I can think of. There's a slight talk about him being butt naked under shorts but other than that its pretty safe

Words: 1,225

~~~~~~~~~~~~

He was nervous. 

He had never taken a shower for anyone before. He loved playing in the dirt, covering himself in anything and everything that was around him. Soot would be the most recent thing he was covered in as he was making bombs for his latest experiment. He and his friend were about to try them out when his best friend and partner in crime came in and spoke to him of y/n looking for him. He froze.

“T-there looking for me?” 

Roadhog, 7’3” and 550 lbs man, nodded his head as Roadhog didn’t really speak but for some odd reason the short man of 6’5” could understand them.

“Did they say why they were looking for me?” Jamieson, also known as Junkrat, asked. 

Roadhog shook his head as if to indicate that he didn’t know and that they were just looking for them.

“Do you know whereabouts?” Junkrat asked as he was starting to get more nervous. He was covered in soot and grime that it would take days, no, weeks to get the gunk out of places it shouldn’t. Why now was y/n wanting to talk with him. It just seemed abnormal to them.

“The mess hall.” Was all that Roadhog had said. He looked over at the other junker that was in the shop and sighed knowing he would have to be the one to clean up if Junkrat wanted to go and see y/n.

“Right… the mess hall… where everyone will be… thanks…” Junkrat said as he waved to the junker that was helping him and headed back to his room so he could change and clean up. The thought of taking a shower seemed horrible. He hated taking showers and felt like they were a waste of time, but he really wanted to make a good impression on you so he was going to take one. 

“Now, how does this bloody thing work…” Junkrat mumbled to himself. Sure he had taken showers in the past because he had too, but this shower in his room was a bit more fancy and not a hose you would see outside the walls of your home. 

“Ah! This should do the trick!” He smiled as he turned the knob on the right side first and waited a bit before sticking his hand under the water. The water felt like ice. Colder than normal temperatures and nearly made his left hand go numb, “Maybe I should turn this one first. Maybe this one will do me better.” He mumbled to himself as turned the right one off and went to the left one, turning it all the way and waiting. Steam started to roll from the mouth of the faucet and his eyes started to see that maybe it wasn’t the right one but decided to stick his left hand under it and cry out nearly burning his fingers to what felt like to the bone. 

“How does one find the right temperature? Roady, well he usually likes his a bit warmer than I do and from what I heard from the others they like it colder.” Junkrat started playing the knobs once more as he was trying to figure out how to get the perfect middle,  “How does one find the perfect middle?” 

“You okay in there?” y/n’s voice came from the bedroom as Junkrat froze in his spot, “I heard someone cry out and I just wanted to make sure you or whoever was okay.” 

“Yeah! I’m fine!” Junkrat panicked as he thought y/n was supposed to be in the mess hall with the others. What were they doing here?

“You sure? I mean I can come help with whatever you need help with. I know how much of a pain the bathrooms can be.” Y/n said as Junkrat’s cheeks brightened at the thought of them walking in here and seeing he was struggling with the bathroom tub.

“No, that won't be necessary! I’ll be just fine!” Junkrat said as when he turned to look at the door where y/n stood. Their bright colored eyes just smiling away and their h/l colored hair neatly tucked away behind their ear.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t realize you were about to hop into the shower Jamie! I just wanted to make sure you were okay!” Y/n said as their cheeks were a bit red from seeing that Junkrat was still fully clothed but just the thought of them getting ready to undress brought their cheeks to a beautiful pink color.

“It's okay! I didn’t realize you were passing by and should have kept the door close to the bedroom. I honestly forget sometimes that others can pass on by and see everything that is going on that it's sorta embarrassing to forget such a little thing.” Junkrat admitted as he looked away from y/n and tried not to stare. They were extremely beautiful and it made Junkrat’s heart skip a beat after every time they called him by his first name instead of his code name. Junkrat really wanted to impress them, but standing here in the bathroom with them was not how they wanted to impress them.

y/n laughed, “Well, what were you trying to do?” They asked.

“I was trying to start the bloody shower but it got too cold at first and nearly froze my hand and then turned it too hot and nearly burned myself. I can’t find the perfect medium.” he said as y/n nodded their head and moved over to set them temperature for him. He watched carefully that they turned the left one first and then turned the right one making sure that it was still warm and that even though it was a bit cooler than how they took their showers they wanted to make sure that Junkrat was comfortable with this and that if he wanted to change it he could turn either knob to make it more comfortable.

“There, how is that?” y/n asked Junkrat.

“That’s perfect!” Junkrat smiled as he ran his hand under the water and smiled that it wasn’t hurting him nor freezing him, “Thanks y/n!” 

“It was my pleasure, Jamison, I was just happy that I could help out.” you said as you made your way back to the door of the bathroom. 

“Hey, y/n, before you go.” Jamie said as he removed the belt that was across his chest and shoulders, “What did you need me for? Roady said you were looking for me.” 

“Oh! Uh… it was nothing! I had seen Roadhog and didn’t see you so I was just curious about where you were. Nothing too important.” You mumbled as he smiled seeing you were the one now stuttering. 

“Are you sure?” Junkrat asked before he was about to pull his shorts down and if you could see the look on your face right now, Jamieson was butt naked under his shorts and that made your face go redder than any tomato you could find on the spaceship. 

“Y-yeah! Just wondering where you were!” y/n said as Junkrat nodded. He waited for you to leave and then sighed hopping into the shower thankful you were gone. 

“Now, how about we think about what our next experiment with them shall be… hmmm….” 

[ohgodsalazarwhy]

I finished the Raven's Shadow Trilogy by Anthony Ryan and loved it, but found out in the process there is a duology that takes place after it, from Vaelin's POV and I must get my hands on them. I'll see if Powells has a copy on Friday

In the meantime, I'm starting Day Boy by Trent Jamieson. I want a break from stories of war and this one is about vampires.