I see ao3 as a library, because ao3 hosts millions of written works for people to visit and read. That’s what libraries do. But I get it that to some people, the library part may be more of a metaphor than a literal meaning for ao3.
But you have to be either clueless about what ao3 is shortened for and what the platform’s full name is, or on another level of stupidity to say archive of our own isn’t an archive pls lmao
And it’s not just the name, mind you. AO3’s main purpose is to archive transformative works. Archiving works is literally the only thing it does and was created for. Which just makes anon’s claim even funnier.
Your Friendly Neighborhood Librarian says yes, AO3 is a fucking library AND an archive. Does it have a curated collection of materials? YES, it’s library. Does that collection contain materials curated specifically in part for preservation purposes? YES, it’s an archive.
And it’s my dream that someday our public library catalogs will be able to organize content the way AO3 can.
jack abbot as dad’s best friend? or longtime neighbor? always protective of you, respectful, but one day he sees you in a tiny mini skirt and can’t control himself anymore
pairing: dbf!jack abbot x fem!reader
warnings: 18+ mdni. smut. age gap (reader is over 21). outdoor sex. way more feels than the og ask probably wanted. w.c. 1.2k
author's note: holy fuck, I did not expect to run with this. I am nervous asf to post this since writing has evaded me for so long. pls, be kind.
𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ⋅ 𝐅𝐢𝐜 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐬
jack never thought of you as anything other than his best friend's daughter.
granted, he never got to know you all that well. you had spent the last few years in college, only coming home during the holidays and the rare weekend to catch up on laundry. but the handful of times he was able to spend with you slowly seeped under his skin.
jack would lie awake recounting the many conversations he'd had with you. the way your eyes crinkle when he made you'd laugh with a stupid joke. how you pick the olives off your slices of pizza. the caring tone your voice held when your younger sibling threw themselves into your arms crying over high school heartache.
he'd shake his head and cuss himself out. you were off limits. you were young enough to be his daughter. that should be enough to keep him far away from you, let alone his best friends daughter. but anytime he shut his eyes all he saw was yours.
he was fucked.
be it a twist of fate or extremely bad luck, your paths crossed at the local bar.
he spotted you from across the dingy bar enraptured by whatever your friends were talking about. you’d been home for the week, figuring out your next steps since graduation was around the corner and job hunting was on the horizon. it looked like you were having a well deserved night out and jack didn’t want to intrude but he did want to give you a little early graduation gift.
you found his eye through the crowd after the bartender brought over a round of drinks and nodded his jack’s direction. your smile cut through the smoke and roaring bar chatter. jack watched you with a steady gaze as you left the booth and stalked towards him.
the slinky dress you wore was tight, forming to your curves like a glove and the cut was dangerously short. his hands itched to slide under the flimsy material and palm what lay hidden. he swore under his breath as he felt his cock twitch.
"hi jack.” you saddled up next to him with a soft smile. “thanks for the drinks.”
"t’was the least I could do, kiddo.” his eyes traveled down your frame, disobeying his every command.
you clear your throat and jack flicks his eyes back up to yours. caught red handed. his skin turns crimson and the giggle that haunts his dreams fills the space between your bodies.
jack scans the room to gather himself. what the fuck is he doing?
"you here by yourself?” you ask,
jack nods. “yeah, sometimes the quiet gets too loud so i come here for a beer or two and then head back home.”
he hates the look of worry in your eyes. he never wants to be the reason you fret.
"you gonna be out partying much longer?” he asks changing the convo, eyeballing your friends over your shoulder.
you turn and follow his gaze. your friends are watching you and jack like group of hawks. you send them an awkward thumbs up and they lift their drinks in salute.
you and jack laugh in unison and melt closer together. you turn back to the older man to find him staring at you with rabid affection.
"you sure, you guys don’t need a ride or anything?” he asks, taking a swig of beer hoping it’ll distract you from his avid gaze.
the corners of your mouth lift. “i wouldn’t mind a ride.”
you enunciated the word ride so heavily, jack would be a fool to think you were actually needing a ride home. he takes another swig of beer and barely weighs his options.
"then let’s get you home.”
you barely make it to his truck.
jack thanks every higher power that made him park on the edge of the lot where the street lights dimly glow.
he cages you against the drivers side door and wraps his arms around your waist. his lips smother yours like he’s consuming you. you wrap one leg around his torso, pulling him close and nudging your core against his pelvis.
each little wanton moan that slips from your throat makes his cock pulse. he wants to be the only reason you make those sweet sounds in the future.
his hands slide down to your ass, palming the silk covered, weighty flesh with a deep groan. his fingers graze the edge of your panties before rubbing up the crease of you which earns him a raspy whimper.
"you got some nerve wearing this.” he’d grits, the bulge in his jeans sliding easily across the satin.
you roll your eyes. “you love it.”
jack smiles against your lips. “yes, i fucking do.”
he hooks his fingers under the elastic of your panties and pulls the damp material to the side. a sticky thread of slick catches on his knuckles.
“fuck, you’re soaked.” his honey eyes flick between your bodies, finding his digits and your cunt covered with glistening arousal. he downright growls at the sight and has to hold himself back from staking his claim on you like an animal in the wild.
"say you want this.” with a firm hand under your chin, he forces you to meet his eye line. his tone dripping with authority. “say you want this, because there’s no going back. not after this.”
you barely let a second pass before your hips angle toward his cock with a needy whine. "i need you, jack.”
his lips curl into a smirk. “‘atta, girl.”
he slides into your cunt with one weighty, severe thrust. it feels like it lasts forever until he reaches the end, bottoming out like a punch to his gut. the breathy moans you elicit travel up his spine and take root in the base of his skull.
he’ll remember those saccharine sounds until the day he dies.
your lips meet again, hasty and devoted, teeth clashing and tongues laden with each other’s saliva, kissing as if you’ll never see each other again.
your silk dress rides further up your hips with every bone shattering thrust. jack knows you deserve more than a quick fuck against the metal door of his truck but as your cunt pulses around his cock, he could care less.
"that’s it. that’s it.” jack moans, resting his forehead against yours. “you’re so pretty taking my cock. just like i imagined.”
he watches your eyes roll back and feels your cunt spasm so tight he can barely move. the thin straps of your dress slip off your shoulders baiting him to nuzzle your tits. your hands sink into the base of his gray curls as he sucks a pert, sensitive bud between his lips. you come with a silent shout, curling your back like a bow pulled taught and shuddering your release all over his pelvis.
jack bites back a swear, growling like a rabid animal as you drag him over the edge. he fucks you full of his come, pressing his hips flush against the backs of your thighs, desperate to sink every inch of his length into your warmth in a bid to forever be tied to you.
he prays he hasn’t left any marks as he unlocks his grip on your waist and eases you back onto two feet. you haven’t pulled away and he doesn't plan to. the silence brims with vast trepidation but you sink into his warm embrace as he curls his protective arms around you.
feel free to scream at me -> 💌
reblogs & comments are extremely appreciated! follow @ozzieslibrary for new fic updates!
The more ubiquitous it becomes, the more determined I become never to rely on it. My thoughts are my own; my mode of expression is my own. End of story.
I am once again begging people to realize that AI checker doesn’t work. it’s never worked. it’s notoriously known to have flagged human-made works as AI and AI-generated works as human-made. and by feeding it people’s works, you are feeding more works to AI, because apparently the machine itself is AI.
the only thing AI checker does is harm genuine artists and people in general too.
It has been literal years but every time I see Martin’s tweets posted somewhere and his word is shared as truth while her post is not shared it sort of reiterates the fact that we trust men to speak about feminism more than we believe women who experience it.
Reading her account of how their boss treated her blows me away. Men are so emboldened that they will literally admit to illegal discrimination casually and face no consequences.
Adding screenshots of her post. His whole post is there without needing a link. Hers should be, too.
Also, she posted this is 2017! It’s fucking 2020 and I’ve seen his side of this for years, but it took 3 years for her side to make its way to my dash…
It has been literal years but every time I see Martin’s tweets posted somewhere and his word is shared as truth while her post is not shared it sort of reiterates the fact that we trust men to speak about feminism more than we believe women who experience it.
Reading her account of how their boss treated her blows me away. Men are so emboldened that they will literally admit to illegal discrimination casually and face no consequences.
Adding screenshots of her post. His whole post is there without needing a link. Hers should be, too.
Also, she posted this is 2017! It’s fucking 2020 and I’ve seen his side of this for years, but it took 3 years for her side to make its way to my dash…
I love stuff like this. Didn’t a tribe in Africa send America some cows after 9/11? Like this is holy and the most valuable thing we have. We hear your suffering and want to do anything in our power to help
It was not a potato famine. The famine didn’t happen because of the potato yeald failing. Ireland was actually producing more than enough food. However it was almost all land owned by Brittish landowners, who took all of the food out of the country to sell in UK. Potato was what the Irish farmers ate, because it was cheep and could be produced in worst parts of the land, where more profitable food couldn’t be grown. When there were no longer potatos, the decision for the farmers was to either starve and sent the food as rent to the landlords or loose their homes and then starve.
The Brittish goverment was unwilling to do anything for two reasons. First was the laissez-faire capitalistic ideology, that put the rights of property owners to make profits above human lives. Rent freeze was unthinkable and they even were unwilling to do proper relief efforts as free food would lower the cost of food. The second reason was distain for the Irish, and the thought that they were “breeding too much” and the famine was a natural way to trim down the population, aka genocidal reasoning.
This is why it’s important to stress it was not a potato famine. The potato blinght was all over Europe but only in Ireland there was a famine. The reasons behind it had nothing to do with potatos and everything to do with the Brittish.
Apparently what made Choctaw want to offer relief to Irish was the news about the Doolough Tragedy. Hundreds of starving people were gathered for inspection to verify they were entitled to recieve relief. The officials would for *some reason* not do that and instead left to a hunting lodge 19 kilometers away to spend the night and said to the starvqing people they would have to walk there by morning to be inspected. The weather conditions were terrible and many of them died completely needlessly during the walk thoroung day and night.
This apparently reminded the Choctaw of their own very recent (and much more explicit and bigger scale) experiences of ethnic clensing, where they were forcibly relocated. It was basically a death march and thousands of Choctaw died from the terrible conditions also completely needlessly.
In 2015 a memorial named Kindred Spirits was installed in Southern Ireland to commemorate the Chactow donation.
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