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inkyquince · 1 year ago

Text

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?

#nsft #quincewrites #atsv #miguel o hara #miguel o'hara #across the spiderverse #second part should be up later #but first finish this comm hopefilly

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scotianostra · 8 months ago

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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.

#scotland #scottish #history #minister #polymath #lexicography

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notsuch · 2 years ago

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@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.

#overwatch #junkrat #roadhog #junker queen #* my: meta & other #jamison fawkes #mako rutledge #odessa stone

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foreverlilmeowmeow · 2 years ago

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Showering for You (Junkrat x reader)

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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

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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….”

#overwatch #overwatch 2 #junkrat #junkrat x reader #junkrat x gn reader #showering #shower #x reader #overwatch x reader #jamison fawkes x reader #jamison fawkes x gn reader #jamison fawkes x you #junkrat x you #junkrat x y/n #jamison fawkes x y/n

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ohgodsalazarwhy · 7 months ago

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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.

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girlfriendsofthegalaxy · 2 years ago

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tuesday again 1/31/23

month started on a sunday, ended on a tuesday, very satisfying

listening

Toxic Las Vegas (Jamieson Shaw Remix). this has been on my "silly little walk for my silly little mental health" playlist for three weeks so it's time for its place in the tuesdaypost. part of the appeal is that it's two songs i already like but this remix does something where i go "whoa is that the james bond chord" every time even though it is NOT.

youtube

reading

Bullet Train, a black humor thriller set on a train full of asssassins by Kōtarō Isaka. i have been having... mmmmmmmm. a time. let us say. and i have been clinging to things that i have lost my mind about (mostly cowboys) in order to get through the agonies. so it is weird, now that i am branching out a bit more bc things are on a slightly different tack, to be like "yeah i liked this a normal amount and i agree with the 3.8 goodreads average. i will not remember this in three months." npr said basically: fun little genre piece with no real depth! i don't completely agree with this, bc the book is not action-scene focused! the very few fights are short, blunt, quick affairs. there's a lot of focus on personal ethics and legacies, and a great deal of terror derived from random chance. but yeah it's not really a literary novel.

this was a fast, fun read. a rare example where i liked the adaptation (the recent movie which is a VERY loose adaptation) much more than the original work.

i try not to be picky about sentence structure or work choice in a translated work, bc translation is a tricky business at best, but there were some funky choices here and there that did throw me out of my groove. it's written in present tense, which is fine, but i cannot remember the last time i read a professionally published non-romance book written in present tense. i described the movies as "really wants you to know it took AP English", and the book is similar in an interesting way-- book!tangerine is constantly quoting English literary-canon novels.

the book (and movie) have a very dry sense of humor that clicked with me. "it's not clear why the man is naming fruits". at LEAST two sensible chuckles.

the biggest book/movie divergence is with the character of the Prince: a fourteen-year-old serial killer, who we spend a great deal of the book with, who asks nearly every grownup on this train "why is it bad to kill people?". a rare book in which i actively wanted a child to die. i think this character is much improved in the movie, since the character is both aged up (a young teen boy in the book, an older teen girl in the movie), and given clearer ties to the rest of the cast. however, this adaptational choice does lose almost all of the terror of the random chance the book makes you sit with. in the movie, the prince has a motive. in the book, that kid just ain't right.

had a fun time but not enough of a fun time that i will be seeking out the other novels in the series on purpose. perhaps if i come across physical copies cheap it will ping my memory and i'll grab them, which is how i acquire a lot of my physical books. this feels like im damning with faint phrase, but i did have a fun time reading this! it's just that my brain is a sieve and lately anything that doesn't completely possess me is immediately forgotten.

watching

fallow week bc i have been #gaming. i need to literally put on my to-do list "rewatch The Big Sleep for febslash feb research" maybe that'll get me to actually do it. im going to take this opportunity to complain about how much fucking work it is to write smut. not even the technical stuff bc i do like to write smut that's threesomes where everyone is the same gender and has the same color hair. the hard part is going "okay what's sexy" and then like storyboarding out the sequence of events to make sure everyone's having fun and it CONSISTENTLY stays sexy the whole time. i have never had irl sex with a narrative throughline. difficult difficult lemon difficult

playing

still running around in wolfenstein: the new order making this big beefy boy do jumps and slides. went to the moon. came back from the moon. hit a very fun bug as i try to fight my way out of the london nautica where i crash landed, bc i died, the level spat me out at the last checkpoint, and there were no health or ammo or armor pickups anywhere. just what i could scavenge off the fallen. very unpleasant to fight through a room with 20 health but i did do one whole room before realizing this was a bug. i would not like to play the entire game like this. very stressful. the big boss at the end of the level was also extremely stressful.

but let's talk about the moon, the moon in the fucking sky. how was the moon? was the moon fun? no it was full of nazis. it was also jammed full of sixties computer banks tho. many instruments and dials as well.

as i write this on sunday night i am going to attempt Again to finish the second to last chapter in this game. i am So Close to finishing this game in under 20 hours [ed note, monday night: lmao still have not finished this game]. look at some more computer banks there aren't enough pictures to break up this post.

not sure if this is a side effect of the next-location action movie disease, but wolfenstein is very interested in how areas link together. lots of temporary facilities that have grown ad-hoc roots, lots of trains planes and automobiles. we drive a lot of trucks. we’re in helicopters and subs and moon rockets. we blow up a bridge and scramble through several trains, blowing one of them up. we fuck on a train also can't forget that cutscene. we live in the sewers. we scuttle around in vents. we are in some very far-flung locations but they all look the fucking same bc they are encased in brutalist concrete. i'm sure this is bc it's fun to have a gun battle on a train and on the fucking moon and bc like u only have so many guys actually modelling things for your levels.

this is a very half-baked observation bc i think i am beginning to get a migraine (as i finish writng this on monday night) but let's get this out of the way first: all buildings are political. something something things invented and built for war never actually go away, something something transportation infrastructure to ease conquest continues to keep the colonies within easy reach of the imperial core, wartime infrastructure like highways and bridges as a tool of empire, fascism is a constant state of war which in this game is partly represented by constant shooting and also constant building. something something the unsustainability of not only constant building things but constant growth. something something long linked history of fascist architects who love brutalism. this video game has great visual design and visual shorthands is what im trying to get at. i think.

the london nautica museum/labs/spaceport is a big gun. this is not a subtle game.

making

here's a peek behind the curtain: i talk about cooking when i don't have anything else to report on. but i genuinely did not have anything else going on this weekend bc this took all my fucking literal and metaphorical spoons. this represents like three weeks worth of soup lunch (the red lentil previously discussed on this series) plus two quiches.

why so many quiches lately? i bought two dozen eggs before christmas and thought i would do more baking than i did, which was zero. tried this dal palak recipe, majorly fucked up the proportions of the spinach bc i cannot read the back of a package, and by the time i corrected my mistake i had a fuck of a lot of the spinach/onion/spices. unfortunately i fucking hate the texture of rice plus lentils plus this mixture all together, but felt bad about wasting so much food, so the lentils went into the soup (which i needed to make more of anyway) the spinach mixture went into some quiche (bc i needed to use up those eggs anyway) and uhhh idk what will happen with the rice yet. maybe fried rice to finish off the last three eggs in the carton. this entire debacle used all my spoons for the weekend.

there's also a pork shoulder defrosting (and after that marinating[from last summer's Father's Day Meat Sale i also wish i was making this up]) but that's not very photogenic. i desperately need freezer space and it's been a fucking minute since i had some meat.

#tuesday again #tuesday again no problem

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singledarkshade · 1 year ago

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Dream Show Challenge 2023

I decided to do the Dream Show Challenge as it's been a while since we did one and I love doing these.

My cast list (chosen by @theadrogna) is:

Doctor Who - Arthur Darvill Psych - Timothy Omundson Leverage - Gina Bellman Star Trek Picard - Evan Evagora Stargate Atlantis - Jason Momoa Almost Paradise - Christian Kane Bridgerton - Nicola Coughlan

Presenting The Spectre Detective Agency

When Private Investigator Adam Spectre is injured during a case and falls into a coma, his younger half-brothers come to see him, meeting for the first time. Reluctantly they agree to run Adam’s detective agency until he recovers, discovering that their brother solved cases for supernatural beings and people with supernatural problems. With Adam’s friend, Tammy, Austin’s ex-army buddy Robbie, some new friends along with Adam’s spirit (linked to their father’s pocket watch) advising, Matthew and Austin find themselves in a new world filled with mystery and danger while delving into the secrets from their own family history.

Starring

Timothy Omundson as Adam Spectre

Adam was a cop for a long time but was injured saving Tamara Jamieson when her bar was being robbed. He retired and became a private detective. His agency wasn’t going anywhere until he ran into Tammy again. She introduced him to a new world with a clientele he’d never known existed and The Spectre Detective Agency became the place for supernatural beings or people with supernatural problems to go to for help. During a case, he was attacked, falling into a coma whilst holding the only thing he has from his father. An antique pocket-watch.

Arthur Darvill as Matthew Spectre

The youngest of the Spectre brothers, he grew up with his mother in a quiet town in Oxford meeting his father for the first and only time at the age of ten. Matthew met his eldest half-brother twice growing up but never knew about his other half-brother. Smart, with a love of puzzles, he’s the easiest to persuade to take over the agency. He was working as a session musician after quitting his job in IT in the hope of starting a music career. The quieter of the brothers, he finds himself drawn into the mysteries offered by the agency and is intrigued by the new world they’ve stumbled into.

And

Christian Kane as Austin Spectre

Austin grew up with his mother in a small town not far from Dallas. He also only met his father once at the age of ten but has visited Adam several times since they first met. Having only recently finished a tour with the army in special ops, Austin is looking for a new purpose. Hearing that his older brother has been hurt, he instantly goes to check on him and help in whatever way he can. Meeting Matthew, he’s intrigued to find he has a younger brother, confused that Adam never told them about one another. Austin seems to be laidback; he relaxes by playing his guitar and prefers working with his hands than a desk job but isn’t dumb. Reluctant at first to take over the agency, he finds he enjoys solving mysteries.

Episode Selection - Season One

Pilot

When Private Detective Adam Spectre is injured during what he thought was a routine case, his younger half-brothers (all who have the same father) Matthew and Austin Spectre come to check up on him, finding he’s in a coma. Surprised to meet one another in Adam’s hospital room, they go get some lunch at The Voodoo Room, the bar Adam always took Austin to when he visited. There they meet Tamara (Tammy) Jamieson, the owner, and a close friend of Adam, who tries to persuade them to take over the agency. Austin refuses instantly but Matthew’s curiosity gets the better of him. He heads to the office where he finds Adam’s case files and starts to work the last case. Finding a pocket watch sitting on the desk, Matthew picks it up then drops it when Adam appears in front of him. Austin is nearly run down while walking by the car from the photos of Adam’s accident, he realises that Matthew is in danger and races back to the office. Matthew tries to explain about Adam, handing Austin the watch who also sees Adam. Their brother explains to them exactly that he’s an astral projection and what type of cases his agency took. Before they can digest this, they’re attacked by the same men who put Adam in the hospital. While Austin fights off the attack, Adam explains to Matthew what they’re after and how to stop them. When Adam’s attacker has been arrested, Austin and Matthew are persuaded by Adam and Tammy to keep the agency going until Adam wakes up as it is a beacon of hope for many within the supernatural community. Reluctantly they agree.

Also starring

Gina Bellman as Tamara (Tammy) Jamieson

Tammy owns The Voodoo Room, a bar just a few doors down from the agency. A medium who can channel spirits and the only one who can see Adam other than Matthew and Austin. She becomes very protective of the brothers, encouraging the younger two to get to know one another but knows more about their family than she says. Caring and compassionate, her bar is a refuge for all supernatural beings. She becomes one of the resources Matthew and Austin use for the new world they’re suddenly thrust into, but she also becomes their confidant.

Fairy Tales

The agency isn’t getting cases so, to pay the bills, Austin gets some work with his old army buddy Robbie Kahale, who now owns a construction company, leaving Matthew in charge of the agency. Hired by a woman who is convinced there are fairies in her garden stealing her flowers, Adam advises Matthew, who thinks it’s a complete waste of time, that Tammy will be able to find someone who can advise. Tammy introduces Matthew to Cassandra, a sorceress. She explained that the flowers being stolen are used in a ritual that could bring about the end of the world. They work out that the ritual will take place at the construction site Austin and Robbie are working at. While Matthew, Austin and Cassandra try to stop the ritual, Robbie is trapped by the sorcerers trying to complete the ritual. After saving the world, and Robbie, the brothers discuss how out of their depth they are and ask Cassandra if they can call on her again. Glancing at Tammy, who gives her a knowing look and nod, she agrees.

Also starring

Jason Momoa as Robbie Kahale

Robbie served in the army with Austin. When he finished his tour, he took over his father’s construction business. He’s hired to work in the same town where Austin and Matthew have taken over the detective agency, and happily hires Austin to work on his crew. Robbie is a positive person, who always has an optimistic look on life. After nearly getting killed during one of the cases the brothers take, he tells Austin that he’s always welcome to work with the construction crew, but Robbie doesn’t want to get involved in any more cases. This doesn’t last long, and he soon finds himself backing up the brothers, getting more involved and soon actively joining in cases.

Nicola Coughlan as Cassandra

Cassandra is a sorceress, powerful and older than she looks. She originally helps Matthew and Austin as she owes Adam a favour, intending never to see them again. Although not wanting to be involved any further, it’s due to Tammy that she agrees to be a resource for them as she is indebted to the bar owner. She gets annoyed watching the brothers stumble around trying to solve cases so starts to actively help them. She and Robbie commiserate with one another about how much the brothers rely on them to do legwork for cases but as time moves on, she becomes very protective of them.

Memory Blank

When a young man appears at their office late at night with no idea who he is, Matthew and Austin take him in intending to take him to the police/hospital the next day. While talking to their guest he explains that he has a bracelet that guided him to the brothers. Adam explains that their guest must have powers as that is the only way he would have been able to use the bracelet to find them. Cassandra is called on the next morning and tells them he’s lost his magic. A few hours later Cassandra meets up with an old friend whose magic has been stolen. It becomes a race to find who is stealing magic and why. Once things are sorted, their guest still has no memory and no magic which Cassandra advises will only come back with his memory, so they call him Max and Tammy hires him to work in the bar.

Also starring

Evan Evagora as Max

Max has no memory of who he is, where he comes from or what kind of magic he had before it was stolen. As he has nowhere to go, Tammy gives him a job at the bar, and he becomes very popular with the younger residents of the town. He also becomes a part time assistant for the Detective Agency, able to blend into places none of the others can. He is quiet and reserved at first, considering he doesn’t know anything about himself, but as time moves on, he develops a camaraderie with Robbie who teaches him self-defence.

A Happy Medium

Tammy shuts down the bar for the evening to perform a séance. Matthew persuades her to allow him to be present, he’s interested to see what she does. During the séance Tammy is possessed by a woman who wants her murder from fifty years ago solved and refuses to leave Tammy’s body until Matthew does so. With Tammy currently not able to help them, Matthew and Austin pull together rest of the team to free their friend while trying to solve an old murder. But the more they investigate, the less Matthew and Austin trust the spirit as it looks as though she may not be the victim that she claimed to be.

Cross Country

Adam’s former police partner, Richard Walker comes to town, now working for the FBI, he’s been following a trail of dead bodies across the country who just seem to have died for no reason. Cassandra suspects a Succubus and warns them not to engage if they run across her as all men will fall under her spell. (This leads to a discussion about what is a man which ends with Cassandra storming out in annoyance that they’re not taking her warning seriously). Tammy leaves Matthew in charge of the bar when she needs to run an errand while Max is out picking up supplies. A woman, who introduces herself simply as Star, comes into the bar and strikes up a conversation with him. They flirt easily with one another, but she leaves suddenly. When Richard calls that he’s in trouble, the brothers with Cassandra race to his last position finding him unconscious with Star standing above him. Then she runs.

Meeting Again

With Richard in hospital, but expected to recover, they try to work out where Star has gone. Adam gets to talk to his unconscious friend explaining his current situation. Austin and Matthew argue with one another as Matthew is sure Star isn’t the killer, it wasn’t possible that she could have got there and attacked Richard before they arrived. When they split up to follow their own leads. Star comes to Matthew explaining she is a Siren and she’s chasing the Succubus who has been attacking men, breaking the laws that governs their people. Cassandra, Tammy, Austin, and Robbie arrive to save Matthew thinking he’s in danger, but Max is the one in danger as the girl he was picking up supplies for the bar from turns out to the killer. After they stop the Succubus, Star says goodbye to Matthew, kissing cheek she tells him her powers didn’t work on him or Austin. And suggests he ask Tammy why.

Special guest stars

Aldis Hodge as Richard Walker

Amy Pemberton as Star

Family Matters

Richard is back, not for a case but to visit Adam. At the same time, Cassandra’s mother, Miriam, is in town wanting to know why Cassandra is working with the brothers and Robbie’s stepfather is visiting. Star also arrives back in town, this time with her sister, Luna, who is also hunter for supernatural beings who break their laws. Matthew and Austin are not getting along, disagreeing on how to run the agency, how to work cases and basically everything in between. Neither are listening to Adam who is getting frustrated, as they keep leaving the watch at the office. Tammy, annoyed by the constant arguing, summons the brothers to the bar to get them to talk. The spell she uses to lock them in goes wrong and soon everyone is trapped in the bar including Star, Luna, Robbie, and Cassandra with people randomly telling the truths to one another. These truths start fights and change some relationships forever.

Guest Starring April Bowlby as Luna

The Past We Left Behind

Everyone is avoiding one another after the night of telling each other unfiltered truths. Matthew is hiding out in the office while Austin is staying in the apartment that they share above it. Going through old file boxes, Matthew finds old files and the story flashes back to Adam opening the agency, Matthew as he decides to quit his job and Austin as he finishes his tour. Each makes their decision after an unknown man always hidden in the shadows guides them on their path, all that is seen of him is a familiar pocket watch.

Missing Part 1

A couple hire the agency to find their missing daughter but because they can’t agree how to work the case decide to split up. Austin persuades Richard, who is still in town, to work with him while Matthew goes off on his own. Finding the missing girl in an old, abandoned school building, Matthew discovers she isn’t the client’s daughter but a young Succubus who has been abducted. As he tries to get her to safety, Star appears but she is being chased by the supposed parents and the three of them are soon trapped in a room filling with water. Austin and Richard realise at the same time their case is not what they thought, but before they can get to Matthew their car is run off the road, it rolls and crashes into a tree leaving them both unconscious hanging upside down. In the hospital, Adam starts to wake up just as a shadowy figure appears above him.

Missing Part 2

Thanks to Cassandra, Robbie finds Austin and Richard while Tammy and Max save Matthew, Star and the girl. Neither Austin nor Richard can remember what they found that led them to realise the case was bogus. Matthew ensures Star and her charge get away safely before he seeks out Cassandra and tells her he wants to learn magic. She reluctantly agrees but with the stipulation he cannot tell anyone she is teaching him. A call from the hospital tells them that Adam has woken up, but as they head to the hospital to see him, the people who hired them appear trying to kill them. Star and Luna save the brothers arresting the couple. Finally, the brothers go to see Adam, who has no memory of anything that happened since he fell into the coma but is happy that Matthew and Austin finally met. As the three of them sit together talking, the shadowy figure watches them, a pocket watch in his hand.

#RBACL Dream Show #Dream Show Challenge #fun

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