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elijahlittle · 1 year

Note

I have been scouring this fucking app for Julian fics, never really occurred to I can just request some lol.

So yeah, if you're up for it I've got a little plot/trope set up that'd id love to see. Outsider(fem)reader/julian.

Something along the lines of a reader moving into the park from the southern us, new to Canada and parks in general. As an outsider, Julian expected you to be trouble or judgemental, so he acts like a dick to you at first. Later on, he starts to see instead how kind you are to everyone, understanding and totally up for doing ppl favors even when there's nothing for you in the end. This makes him feel real guilty for bein an ass to you, and also makes him start to feel other things towards u.. Take the fic in whatever direction you'd I wanna see u work ur magic

( + no pressure 2 write it ofc!!)

pairing: julian/fem!reader fandom: trailer park boys tags: smut (cis man/cis woman), fluff, a bit of angst, idk this is one of my more normal ones, heavy plot some porn (i kind of felt more plot focused with this one), julian is kind of hung (he gives me big dick energy) author's note: i'm much more of a ricky kinda guy myself but when i got this request, i got really fucking excited. i loved the idea. i will say, this fic isn't structured traditionally. it's very dialogue heavy and kind of leaves some things up to the imagination. i wanted to establish relationships between the reader and other people in the park as well as share some of julian's private conversations about her. i'm really proud of the way this has turned out, though i'm sorry if it's not the interpretation you might have been hoping for (i'm a little insecure about the way i interpret storylines). i hope you like it, though. i worked hard on it and i'm pretty sure it's the longest julian/reader fic currently on the internet so i'm going to take that fucking win rn. also, i actually live in the southern united states. (fun fact: i'm looking to move because i'm a trans man and life here is kind of ass if you're trans), so i gave the reader a backstory that's kind of unique to what a woman in 1999-2000 would have gone through. i'm not satisfied with the ending though, i'm sorry if this fic is a little lackluster, but we can only go up from here i guess. text blocking this shit was a fucking BITCH. word count: 6,442

everything i've ever let go of has claw marks on it.

The cultural climate of Sunnyvale Trailer Park wasn't exactly the most inviting. There were people who lived in the park and then there was everyone else. For the most part, newcomers never lasted more than a few weeks. The bottle kids drove away the weakest among them, but if those kids weren't effective usually Ricky's antics drove away the remaining lot. Sure, there were a few people here and there who moved in quietly, but those were usually the kind of people that minded their own business because lot rent was low enough for them to just ignore Lahey.

But in general, new people were not welcome. Especially know-it-all hipsters trying to live the simple life by casting away their possessions in an expensive storage unit and downsizing to a more humble trailer. Those were the kinds of guys that gave up quickly. Plus, new people threatened the balance of park politics. For the most part, Julian was well-liked and well-respected among the others due to his caring nature and dedication to his loved ones. He protected his own. And if there was one thing Julian didn't like, it was newcomers coming into the park without already knowing someone in it.

"Barb, I really think you should reconsider letting this girl in. I mean, you don't even know who she is."

"Julian, this is a business, not a family estate. Her credit was just below decent, she has an okay-paying job, and paid three months of rent in advance. From a business perspective, she seems like she'll be a reliable tenant. It's a good thing you've grown close with your community, but you have to remember at the end of the day, this trailer park is here to make money. Whatever fit of paranoia you're suffering through, deal with it on your own time. Next time you come here with a complaint, make sure it's a business one."

And just like that, Barb had shooed Julian off. What more could he say to that? Well, he had a lot more to say to that but she didn't want to listen. Every time he opened his mouth to speak, she only guided him further to the door. If Julian thought he was the one who ran this trailer park, he had another thing coming for him that's what. This dump needed more reliable tenants - normal folks who didn't like to get into trouble. Barb was trying to turn the park's image around.

"Julian, I just don't understand why you're so against this lady stayin' here. You know I'm no fan of newcomers myself, but she's been mindin' her own. She actually keeps her yard clean, which is pretty fuckin' nice if you ask me. It's nice to pass a yard that doesn't have a million fuckin' pieces of trash thrown all over the front. She even has one of those pink fuckin' yard flamingos in her yard. It's so bright and colorful. There ain't nothin' wrong with a little bit of color, Julian. Ain't nothin' wrong with a little bit of change."

"Are you even listening to yourself talk Bubbles? Can you hear what you're saying? You're saying change for this park is good. Who knows what she believes in. She might hate dope growers, she may be workin' with Lahey, she could get nosy and bust us for dope and you know Ricky and I are growin' a lot of dope -"

"- I know, I've seen that big fuckin' setup you got in that fuckin' trailer in that shitty little lot -"

"- so then Bubbles you should know that new people aren't good. We can't trust new people, especially not now. Especially not when we're so close to selling them to those prison guards and retiring. A stranger could compromise the whole thing. Remember those bible scammers that came through here? I've learned my lesson since then and I'm not tryna repeat old mistakes."

"Jesus Murphy Julian, you need to calm down. Those fuckin' assholes were obviously scammers, it's not like this lady is goin' door to door scammin' people."

"Sure maybe she's not taking advanced orders on bibles Bubbles, but she is goin' in and out of everyone's house doin' favors for them. Why does she need to see the inside of everyone's house? Do you think she's lookin' for something?"

"Have you ever stopped to think that maybe she's just a nice person doin' a nice thing? Nice people exist. You've been dealin' with dope and crime and jail so much that it's like you forgot how to trust someone. All you think about is dope and how you're going to protect it from everyone else."

"You're only defendin' her because she brings you boxes of canned cat foods for your cats. She's buyin' you off and you don't even know it."

"So what if she's helpin' me take care of my kitties? My kitties are the most important things to me and unlike you, she fuckin' knows that. If someone's offering to help take care of my precious little kitties, who the fuck am I to say no?"

"Bubbles, look -"

"No, no, nevermind." Bubbles tucks a gray cat further into his arms, his posture becoming more rigid. It's clear that he's done with the conversation, no longer interested in trying to hammer commonsense into Julian's brain. He couldn't see past his own paranoia and it was infuriating. In Julian's mind, everyone in the world was out to get him - even the nice lady across the street who helped his friend support his kitties. "You just don't get it, Julian. I'm goin' back home, come talk to me when you get it."

Julian was still convinced he was right about this girl. If the bottle kids didn't run you out, he'd just take matters into his own hands. He didn't care whether or not Bubbles helped. Julian was a man of many connections, and even if he couldn't find someone else to get the job done he had no qualms with taking care of the situation himself.

"I mean, if you think that lady's dangerous then you know I'm gonna follow you Julian 'cause you got the brains and stuff behind the projector, but I just gotta let you know I'm still workin' on my grade ten so whatever idea you have you got to make sure it's not illegal 'cause I can't go back to jail, not right before Trinity's birthday. That means we can't do any property damage or breaking and entering or any shit like that."

"I promise you Ricky we're not gonna go back to jail, we're just gonna annoy the shit out of her until she leaves. I was thinkin' maybe you and Cory and Trevor could host like a really loud party across the street tomorrow night, you know - something to keep her awake. If we get a noise complaint, we'll just shut it down, but then once the cops leave we'll start it back up again. We'll do this for a few nights until she finally decides to move out."

"That's a pretty fucking good idea, that's smart. Plus, since it's a party we can get drunk and high."

It's 2 a.m. and that fucking party is still going. There were several times you considered calling in a noise complaint but you decided that it was a better idea to just wait it out. It had to end at some point and overall, it was never a good idea to get involved with parties like that because sometimes they got out of a hand, and you were too smart to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Though when you stepped outside to 'check your mailbox' - spy on the party still going on into the early hours of the morning - you find yourself tripping over something. You stumble onto your hands and knees and it's only when you pull yourself up do you really get a good look at the man passed out by your mailbox. It's Ricky, and he's mumbling things almost incoherently. He mutters something about dope, bitches, Trinity, more bitches, Lucy, and good booze. It's a pathetic way to be, but you can't help but feel bad for you.

You use the toe of your shoe to rock his face awake. Ricky sputters before waking up in a drunk panic. He's angry and yelling incoherently, but your promise of a hot shower and a hot sandwich satiates his anger. He struggles his way through a shower, though almost slips a few times. He eats hand to mouth, chewing loudly, and drunk conversation ensues. He shares a lot with you - stuff he probably wouldn't have shared sober. He eventually passes out, not remembering much in the morning. That morning you share breakfast and a little bit about each other. He tried to hate you, he really did, but you were charismatic in a friendly way. There weren't any ulterior motives, you just enjoyed conversation.

"I don't know Julian, she seems fine to me. I mean, she's not all that bad. Her yard is pretty clean and you know, she has that pink little flamingo in her yard and honestly it's pretty fuckin' cute. I mean yeah she's kinda annoying and I hate that fuckin' southern fuckin' cowboy accent she fucking has but whatever. I think you're gettin' worked up over nothin'. You've been so busy tryna push out this lady who hasn't done nothin' wrong to you while I'm over here slavin' away watchin' after these fuckin' dope plants and tryin' to study for my grade ten all while play peepin' tom spy guy on some poor fuckin' lady."

"You're just saying that 'cause she let you spend the night and made you breakfast."

"You know what I sure as fuck I am! She made me breakfast and kept me from sleepin' on the fuckin' ground drunk as piss and let me use her shower and shit and I didn't even have to put out! It's not like I trust her or anything like that - I didn't talk about dope or nothin' like that at all." That was the truth. "It's just at this point anything is better than fucking Cory and Trevor. I'm not sayin' you gotta like her or trust her, but she's not all that bad Julian. Maybe if you actually got to fuckin' know her like I have you'd see that you're just being a paranoid dickbag."

"You know what Ricky, you don't anything about her. You're just seeing what she wants you to see. But I'm smart, so I see right through it -"

"Come on Julian don't be like that -"

"- and since nobody is going to take care of this fucking situation then I guess I'll have to."

Julian felt like everyone around him was failing him. Nobody else seemed to feel the same way he did about your existence in the trailer park. As each day passed, Julian grew more overtly snide. When approaching Ricky and Bubbles, Julian never took the time to acknowledge you. It was obvious that he was just being an ass, so you opted to ignore it, preferring not to fight. Silence was Julian's strongest weapon. But as the days ticked by, the tension between you and Julian only seemed to mount itself higher.

It's not like you inherently disliked Julian. In fact, you liked to believe that there was good in everyone and you prided yourself in your ability to be able to pull even the toughest people out of their shell. However, Julian was no easy project. Every time you tried to approach him, he simply brushed you off. You weren't even sure that the two of you had even exchanged any greetings. He hadn't even said hello. So when trying to talk to him didn't work, you simply tried to stay out of his way. This was frustrating for Julian because what he wanted you to do was to blow up and make it a big ordeal. But you didn't. You simply kept to yourself and resumed helping others around the park without complaints.

There were times where Julian thought about approaching you in the way Julian thinks about approaching any pretty thing in a summer dress that talks to him. But he remains strong in the face of adversity. Gone were the days of chasing anything in a dress. He had a dope business to worry about.

But sometimes the thought would creep up onto Julian ever so slowly. Sometimes, he'd get this kind of fantasy in his head - especially on the Sunday afternoons you'd spend gently pushing yourself back and forth in your rocking chair, enjoying the summer sunlight. He could think of a million ways you two could enjoy the afternoon together, but he often pushed the thought out of his head. He had a park to protect. Friends to protect.

"You know, you have some real nerve comin' up here in this trailer park and putting on a show like you're doing."

You look up from the rocking chair you were gently pushing yourself back and forth in and offer Julian a small smile.

"So you're Julian?"

Julian can't help but be a bit enamored with your slight southern drawl. It sounds like you're somewhere from the deep southern United States - one of those more rural provinces like Texas or Alabama. He can't quite pinpoint the accent, but he secretly finds it endearing.

"And how do you know that?"

"I mean, with how much you do for the people here it's kind of hard not to know who you are. Plus, Ricky and Lucy both never seem to shut up about you. You know, if I didn't know any better I'd say they're both in love with you or something. Also, yesterday you came to pick up Ricky and he pointed right at you and said well, there's Julian, see ya later. I just put two and two together."

"I'm not here to make small talk, (name)."

"Then what are you here to do, Julian?"

There's silence. What is he here to do. There wasn't anything that he could reasonably do and he wasn't the terrorizing type if he didn't have to be. Fuck, he had even promised that his greasy trouble-causing days were over. But here he was, standing at the edge of the patio stairs, contemplating whether or not he should threaten a woman.

"I'm just here to ask you about your intentions with Ricky, that's all."

You can't help but laugh out loud at the comment. "Oh, please. There's nothing going on between us."

Julian knows that because if there was something going on between you and Ricky, Ricky wouldn't shut up about it and the whole park would know. But he's trying to be covert about his intent to interrogate you.

"Yeah, well . . . there better not be . . . Ricky's a good guy and I'd really hate to see him get hurt . . ."

"Why are you really here, Julian?"

Julian stands in silence, thoughtfully cradling his glass in his hand as he tries to come up with a clever lie - but it's hard to think when he catches a glimpse of your thighs pressed together underneath your thin summer dress. He squints and then looks away briefly.

"I just wanted to stop by and tell you more about the culture of Sunnyvale. You know, we're really tight-knit. Like family."

"I know."

"And you know, family protects family."

"I know."

"And you know, I'd do anything for my family."

"I know."

"Anything."

"What are you getting at?"

"I'm not getting at anything, (name). I'm just givin' you a little more info about our park, just trying to get acquainted with you."

"Oh, you're trying to get acquainted with me? This is the first time I've spoken to you in the month I've been living here."

"Well, you know, I was busy with the business I'm running -"

"- that lawn mowing business you and Ricky got?"

Is that what Ricky is calling it? "Yeah, we've had a lot of customers so I've been having to do a lot of bookwork to keep up with the business you know. But it's been busy, so I haven't had time to talk, but now I do and I want to get to know you."

"You want to get to know me?"

"That's what I just said isn't it?"

"Well I'll tell you what Julian," You push the chair backwards in thought, looking up at the bright summer sky. The sun shines in your face, warming your skin. It's a nice feeling. "If you really want to get to know me, you'll come over for dinner tonight."

Julian wasn't going to admit it but he was excited at the prospect of dinner. The last time he shared time - much less a meal - with a woman, she ended up stealing his dope plants and lying to him about being in love. In all fairness, most people would have been wary of someone saying I love you within the first week of getting to know them, but Julian (for the most part) was a hopeless romantic. He liked the idea of a life with someone else.

Julian told himself that this was strictly business - that he was here to set the record straight. This wasn't get-to-know-you dinner, this wasn't a date. He was just here to let you know that he wasn't going to tolerate funny business. He just happened to be wearing his nicest clean black shirt and he just happened to be wearing one of his nicer pair of jeans - the ones that didn't have the holes in them. Julian knocks on your door. The two minutes he waits for you to answer feels like an eternity but when you open the door, he's glad he's waited.

"You got a hot date you're going to after this?"

"What, this?" You look down at the pink summer dress you're wearing, "This is casual." You had always been the more feminine type, enjoying softer clothes and pretty dresses. Plus, unlike jeans dresses were more comfortable. You usher him inside and he obliges, being careful to not spill his drink when he steps in.

"Dinner is served." Dinner being a massive fucking bowl of macaroni and cheese with cheap ass hot dogs. "Sorry it's not exactly the best, but -"

"It's fine, don't worry about it." Julian sets his glass down. He's actually ecstatic. Macaroni and cheese and fucking hotdogs? "You know, I don't know where you're from but around here this is a five-star meal."

You give a dry laugh. as Julian picks up his fork to eat. "You'll have to forgive me, I'm kind of new to the whole trailer park life and the whole being poor thing."

"Oh yeah? Where are you from?"

"Southern United States."

"What state?"

"Texas."

"That's a long way from here, basically on the other side of the continent. Why'd you come up this way?" Julian tells himself that he's not trying to get to know you because he's interested in you - he's trying to get to know you to get dirt on you, to know what he's up against.

"I needed an abortion." You answer dryly, "And even though it's been legal for some years now, no physician was wiling to perform one on me."

"Why come to Nova Scotia? Why not just go to another state?"

"Well, I figured things were just better here than they were there. Don't get me wrong, it's not perfect by any means but it's better than where I was from. At least here I know if I need the service again, it's a little more reliably accessible. Plus, it's not like I had anywhere or anyone I could turn to. So I just kind of . . . stayed."

"Heavy stuff." Julian sets down his fork, "Didn't have any family to turn to?"

"No, and even if I did they're not the kind of people I'd want to be around."

Julian could relate to that.

"So you just came to Canada for an abortion and then decided to stay? You know, when Americans come to Canada they want to go to Quebec. Nova Scotia isn't exactly on the top of the list, let alone Dartmouth. Let alone fucking Sunnyvale Trailer Park. Nobody just moves in here. Come on, (name) . . . what's the real reason why you're staying here?"

Your mouth runs dry as you consider answering him honestly. "Well, uh . . . you know . . ." You twiddle your thumbs a bit, "I came to Canada with my passport and got my abortion and then . . . I just uh . . ." There's a long pause as your appetite disappears completely. "I didn't have anywhere to go to so I just . . . never left . . . this place was the only place that'd rent to an illegal resident . . ."

"Holy fuck you don't have your papers?" Julian wasn't sure what kind of story he was expecting but it wasn't that. Now he feels like an asshole. "How did you get a job? How did you even afford this place?"

"Well, I had some savings so that was a good cushion, but when that ran out I was able to find a job working as a waitress at that little restaurant just out of town. I'm not technically on the payroll, they just don't make me report my tips, and any extra money is kind of . . . earned under the table." You respond sheepishly.

God, Julian feels like such a fucking jackass for being a raging asshole to you.

"That's . . . hard." Julian doesn't really know what else to say.

"Yeah."

"Well, I've shared my deepest darkest secret with you. Do you want to share anything with me?"

You and Julian talk well into the early hours of the morning, swapping life stories, funny anecdotes, and talking about all of the small things in between. Honestly, he feels at ease with you in a way he hasn't felt at ease before. The conversation flows naturally and even the silence you occasionally fall into feels comfortable. It's nearly two in the morning when you both look at the small clock hanging on your wall and realize the time.

". . . well, it's a little late . . ." You stretch in your chair, still sitting across the table from Julian. You don't really want him to go, but you've both run out of things to talk about and you still have some errands you have to run before work tomorrow. "You know, I have some things I gotta do tomorrow . . . but if you're feeling nice, maybe you can pay me back for dinner by making some for me. I'm usually too tired to cook when I get home . . . you know, only if you want to."

It's hard for Julian to say no to that face.

"What time do you get off work?"

. . .

Julian continues to insist that he doesn't feel some kind of way, that he's just taking the opportunity to really get to know you - you know, in case you ever pose a threat - but the nightly dinner-dates seem to differ.

"Why is it so hard to admit that you have a hard-on for (name)? It's so fucking obvious."

"It's not like that Ricky. You know, I have somewhere to be so why don't you just fuck off and give me some fucking space?"

"Oh yeah I know exactly where you want to be, all up in -"

The truth of the matter was that even though Julian fantasized about it at night, truly nothing had happened. You were sweet, kind, intelligent, patient, compassionate - a truly wonderful person. And that was the problem. Normally, Julian found himself happy to jump into a relationship, but he found himself afraid of making a fool of himself. Guys like him didn't get with girls like you. Simple as that. Besides, love just wasn't in the cards for Julian. It just never worked out like that.

Tonight was yet another night of disappointment. You had lingered on Julian's doorstep after dinner, hoping that maybe he'd make a move and at least give you a kiss goodnight - but the two of you simply stood there awkwardly until he nodded, saying he was probably going to go off to bed now. It was frustrating because you thought you were sending all of the right signals. Light touches, flirtatious giggles, risque comments - the works. But yet again, you find yourself leaving empty-handed. It wasn't that you weren't satisfied with the friendship, you really liked the dynamic the two of you had. You liked that Julian showed you ways to save money, ways to spruce up the trailer home so it felt more roomy, showed you around town a bit - but it left you feeling a bit stupid because you could have sworn the two of you had something more. You could just feel it. But he never addressed it and it drove you crazy.

You knock on the door nervously, your hands shaking.

Julian answers the door again. "What's going on?"

"I don't want to go home just yet. This is about the time J-Roc films his adult films. Can I just sit here for thirty more minutes? He usually finishes up around one in the morning or so."

"Uh, yeah, sure, come on in. You can hang out here. I have to shower because, you know, I got somewhere to be in the morning -" Tomorrow was the day he was supposed to drop off the product with the prison guards, "- normally I'd wait up but I got some important stuff I gotta take care of tomorrow. I'm about to get ready for bed, so you can just leave whenever you're ready."

"Alright."

You find yourself sitting awkwardly on the couch as Julian disappears into the bathroom. The trailer shakes a bit when he turns on the water and you can hear the pipes rush before the water falls like rain into the tub. You sit in silence and contemplate. You couldn't keep going back and forth like this, it'd get nowhere. He had hinted a few times at maybe having feelings. Sometimes his hand would linger on the small of your back too long when he was moving past you, or he'd stand too close to you - so close your shoulders would touch - whenever he got the chance. But nothing would ever come of it, and you were tired of it. You think about maybe joining him in the shower but that's too ballsy of a move, so you simply sit there and listen to the shower run until it's turned off. There's more shuffling and you can hear him go into his room. The hallway light turns off and the door clicks close. You should probably get going by now, but you can't bring yourself to just leave.

. . .

You feel like a psychopath drifting down the hallway. You only came down here to use the bathroom, but now you were standing at his bedroom door - contemplating whether or not you should knock on the door.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

"Ricky, is that you? I told you to stop picking my fucking lock -"

"No," You answer meekly, "It's me. I uh, wanted to take that book back I lent you before I went home. I didn't see it in your living room so I figured you might be keeping it in here."

Julian stares up at the ceiling in thought. Julian is pretty book-smart and it doesn't take a genius to know the game you're running. He's been down this road a thousand times. He wants to say yes, but there's still the lingering fear of ruining the good friendship that's already there.

Julian turns his head to look at his nightstand, the small paperback book sat there. Shit, maybe you weren't playing any games.

"Yeah, give me a moment, I'll come bring it to you."

"You don't have to go through that trouble, I'll just come get it real quick . . . if that's alright with you."

". . . that's alright with me."

You gently push the door open, slipping through before gently closing the door behind you. You can only see the outline of Julian's body in the dark, a few shadows illuminated by the moonlight that drifts in through the blinds.

"It's right over here." You see the shadow of Julian's hand reach over and grab the thick book. Infinite Jest.

"I'll come get it." You pull yourself up onto the bed, you're knees on either side of his feet. Gently, you shimmy your way up, crawling over him on your hands and knees. Julian shifts a bit. Both of your breaths are heavy and as you sit yourself comfortably on his waist, you watch his chest rise and fall with heavy breaths. Gently, you pluck the book from his hand. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Julian's voice is barely over a whisper.

You thumb through the thick book, landing on a page barely illuminated by the moonlight, reading the page you've thumbed to. "Everything I've ever let go of has claw marks on it." Truer words have never been spoken. Like everything in life, Julian has sunk his fingernails so deep into it he's drawn blood. He likes to pretend he can let things go, but he can't.

Julian's hands gently grip at your hips, squeezing them softly - almost like he's afraid that if he squeezes too tight he'll hurt you. His fingers grip at your waist, gently pushing your hips backwards, guiding them in a gentle rocking motion against him. Your hips follow the movement of his hands, rocking against him with a pleased hum.

"Is that right?" Julian asks in a whisper.

"That's right." You respond gently.

"Me included?" He can't hope that you want him so bad that you'd sink your nails so deep into him that he'd never be able to leave you, even if he wanted to. And even if you wanted to leave him, he'd probably stay around and beg for you to take him back anyway.

"If you'll let me."

If he wasn't rock hard before he's rock fucking hard now. "I want you." Julian's voice is hoarse, completely contradicting his typically firm and masculine present. He melts under you. Whether he wanted to believe it or not, Julian was a romantic and the touch of a woman he really valued meant a lot to him. His breath is labored as he guides your hips against him, "Please, I want you."

If this were someone else in the park, it'd be a different story. Sleeping around with people in the park for Julian wasn't about emotions, it was about releasing a physical need, and when you can't keep a boyfriend sometimes you have to turn to your neighbors for some help. Everyone slept with everyone. But you're not them, this isn't just casual for Julian - he doesn't want to fuck it up. He shudders when your fingertips drag across his chest, tracing patterns and circles into his shirt as you rock against him, grinding your hips downwards to create more friction. You're a tease, you take your time, and he hates it but he loves it. Two large hands reach up to cup your breasts over your shirt gently, His hands trail downwards, over your abdomen, grabbing gently at your stomach for a short moment before finding themselves at the hem of your shirt.

"What are you waiting for?" You ask him between small breaths, still making rhytmic riding motions. It's a softly-asked question but also a plea for action. "Please, Julian. I've wanted this since the moment I saw you."

"God, fuck you're so fucking hot." It's like a flip switched in his head and he can't hold himself back anymore. Strong hands placed firmly on your hips flip you onto your back. Now he's on top of you, every part of him everywhere. His lips touch yours in a kiss, teeth pull at the skin of your neck, and tongue sooths the freshly bruised areas by rubbing itself on it in small circles. Like always, he can't help himself, and unlike recently, he stops wasting time.

Your shirt is the first thing to come off - Julian helps shimmy it off of you, throwing it to the side. The next thing to come off is your pajama pants, which he also tosses to the side after helping shimmy it off of you. He has half a mind to compliment the pretty color of your underwear and tell you it looks good on you, but he doesn't pay it any mind since it's about to come off anyways. His hands lift you up by the small of your back just long enough for him to unclasp your bra, letting you fall back down onto the bed. His hands hook underneath your knees, lifting them up and pushing your legs up so he can help slide your underwear easily off of your body. You're left naked under him while he remains fully clothed, lowering himself onto you before you can complain that he hasn't undressed yet.

His thumbs roll against your nipples, gently pinching and pulling at them before taking them into his mouth. Julian has never been the most gentle lover, especially when he gets excited, always eager to take matters into his own hands - but that's part of his appeal.

Kisses trail down your stomach, followed by him dragging his tongue along the skin, pushing your legs apart. He takes his time adorning your inner thighs with kisses, sucking on the skin and taking it between his teeth. He likes the way he makes you whimper and moan, it's intoxicating. But eventually the teasing becomes too much even for him, he's growing impatient, so he lends his tongue to you, circling it around your clit, strong nose pressed into sensitive skin.

Your body writhes as you feel a familiar pressure build in your abdomen, thighs tightening around his head so tight he thought he might suffocate. What a way to go that would be. Your fingers curl into his short hair, gripping and pulling at his hair while your toes curl. You whimper but that only encourages him to slowly push his thick index finger into you, followed by a second after you properly adjusted. His mouth and fingers work in tandem, his fingers curling and pressing inside of you in a come hither motion while his tongue continues to stroke your clit.

"Fuck, Julian, god, fuck -" But before you can climax, he's gone - pulling away. If Julian enjoys anything, it's edging. There's just something about bringing a woman to climax and leaving them nearly in tears that turns him on.

"You look disappointed." Julian catches a glimpse of your lopsided frown illuminated in the moonlight, "Don't worry, I'll take care of it." His shirt is pulled over his head, exposing his bare chest. When you touch the muscle, it's firm from years of consistent working-out. You trace a tattoos that look like they were done with a sewing needle and ink - probably stick and poke tattoos - but Julian frowns. He doesn't like those tattoos, he's not proud of them and he's not proud of his time spent in jail. But you only offer him an encouraging smile and place your palm over the tattoo before dragging your hand down to his belt, pulling at the buckle. Julian offers you a half-hearted smile. "Can't wait?"

Julian pushes your hand out of the way gently, taking his time to unfasten his belt and slowly pulling it through the loops. The belt is tossed to the side, along with his pants and underwear, leaving you both equals. Two hands hook themselves underneath your knees, placing your ankles on his shoulders while he uses his right hand to stroke his cock a bit, helping to harden himself up more. Sometimes the nerves just get to you.

"Holy fuck Julian you're big, you gotta be careful with that thing you're carrying a whole fucking concealed weapon -"

Julian chuckles a bit at the comment but presses a gentle kiss to your ankles. "I'll be careful with you if that's what you're trying to say."

The tip is pushed in slowly with great discomfort, pushing himself in. There's a stiff moment of silence as you let out a labored breath.

"You good?" he asks.

You nod, dragging your teeth over your bottom lip. Julian takes his thumb against your bottom lip, peeling it out from underneath your teeth. His thumb drags your bottom lip down, exposing the inside of it before pushing his thumb into your mouth. Your lips wrap around his thumb, letting your tongue slide against the skin, sucking on the appendage as he pulls out just a bit, repositioning himself before he thrusts back in. Your body pushes upwards with the motion, head pressing against the headboard slightly. His thumb is still pressed in your mouth while his free hand keeps hooked underneath your knee, pushing it backwards so he can angle himself better - each thrust pushing itself deeper inside of you. Sweat coats his chest and runs down the side of his face, abdomen flexing the closer he gets to coming, but he restrains himself - wanting to ride it out for as long as he could.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck."

"Oh, God, Julian -"

"Fuck, (name)."

"Julian -"

"(Name), (Name), (Name)."

"I heard you did a real good job of running that girl out of the trailer park last night, Julian."

"Hey, Barbara, why don't you fuck off?"

#julian tpb #tpb julian #tpb ricky #trailer park boys #tpb #ricky lafeur #julian x reader #julian x reader tpb #tpb bubbles #tpb ricky and julian #ricky tpb #julian x you tpb #trailer park boys reader insert #tpb reader insert

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yepthatsacowalright · 2 months

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In a platonic and intellectual way I am gnawing at the bars of my enclosure right now. The Danels (Daniel Kwan & Daniel Scheinert, creators of Everything Everywhere All At Once) just did a talk at SXSW. It's called 'How We Pulled Off Everything Everywhere All at Once.' Except as soon as they got on stage, they announced that they've already given that talk several times elsewhere, showed QR codes to watch those on YouTube if you're interested, and then pivoted to talking about so much real shit about humanity, inequity, climate change, the past, the future, now, storytelling, art, paradoxes, self-care, religion, addiction, AI, etc. instead that I still feel my brain vibrating about it. Some highlights (that I probably transcribed poorly but tried my best): "The earliest cultures, a lot of them, all around the world, believed in animism. And for those who don't know, [animism] is this belief, this story that they told themselves, that every living creature, rock, tree, river, had a soul, had a life. And a lot of modern people...kinda laugh at that, and think it's a little silly. But regardless of what you believe, that story was actually really beautiful, because it kept things in balance, right? There was this really beautiful relationship with the world around them. When we invented agriculture, we couldn't just force an oxen to drag a plow, because that oxen had a soul. And so we changed the story of the oxen and said, 'Oh, actually we're not all beautiful, soulful things. We're gonna lower the value of this one thing.' And you see this happening slowly throughout history, every new achievement. We've done it to the trees. The trees are incredible, beautiful things that provide food, water, shelter, cooling the Earth, giving us the oxygen we breathe, and we've reduced their story to $70 of lumber at Home Depot. And, like I said, some of this is necessary. Even the oldest cultures who believed in animism would kill, would chop down trees, but there was a narrative where there was grieving, and there was respect, and there was gratitude, and that has been lost. And we have slowly created an entire world where everything is disposable. Our shoes, our cars, our phones...we're all culpable, we're all responsible for this. But the worst part is we've done it to the people. And these devaluing stories, they become normalized and compounded through generational amnesia. And we slowly move the threshold of who is valuable and who isn't.

For instance, modern capitalism and the capitalist workforce only works if we are able to compel people to work, because we can't force them to work. And so we had to change the story we told ourselves, and say that your value is your job. You are only worth what you can do. And we are no longer beings with an inherent worth.

And this is why it is so hard to find fulfillment in this current system. The system works best when you're not fulfilled.

Which brings me back to AI.

There's gonna be a lot of people who are saying how amazing AI is, and it is. It's magic. It's probably going to solve cancers, probably gonna give us a lot of climate solutions. This is a powerful thing. But I'm really terrified of this new story we're gonna have to tell ourself in order to accept this new convenience, this new progress. ...to imagine what [AI] will do within this current system, within this current incentive structure...this is the same system that brought us climate change, income inequality, and the general lack of gratitude and understanding of our worth and the worth of those around us. And so one of the things I'm realizing we all have to be doing...is we have to really rewrite the system story, and center what is truly valuable." "We are addicted to a system. We know how to solve our problems, we understand what a lot of the solutions are, we just don't know how to actually have the will to do it. And so if you look at us, collectively, we are on step one. We are finally, after decades, admitting that there is a problem, specifically climate change amongst other things. And now we need to be actively thinking about, okay, what kind of stories are we gonna be telling to bring us into that second step?" HIGHLY RECOMMEND watching the entire 1-hour talk. I promise it does not feel like an hour, and it is 8000% worth your time:

youtube

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spacetimewithstuartgary · 3 months

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What turned Earth into a giant snowball 700m years ago? Scientists now have an answer

Australian geologists have used plate tectonic modelling to determine what most likely caused an extreme ice-age climate in Earth’s history, more than 700 million years ago.

The study, published inGeology, helps our understanding of the functioning of the Earth's built-in thermostat that prevents the Earth from getting stuck in overheating mode. It also shows how sensitive global climate is to atmospheric carbon concentration.

“Imagine the Earth almost completely frozen over,” said the study’s lead author, ARC Future Fellow Dr Adriana Dutkiewicz. “That’s just what happened about 700 million years ago; the planet was blanketed in ice from poles to equator and temperatures plunged. However, just what caused this has been an open question.

“We now think we have cracked the mystery: historically low volcanic carbon dioxide emissions, aided by weathering of a large pile of volcanic rocks in what is now Canada; a process that absorbs atmospheric carbon dioxide.”

The project was inspired by the glacial debris left by the ancient glaciation from this period that can be spectacularly observed in the Flinders Ranges in South Australia.

A recent geological field trip to the Ranges, led by co-author Professor Alan Collins from the University of Adelaide, prompted the team to use the University of Sydney EarthByte computer models to investigate the cause and the exceptionally long duration of this ice age.

The extended ice age, also called the Sturtian glaciation after the 19th century European colonial explorer of central Australia, Charles Sturt, stretched from 717 to 660 million years ago, a period well before the dinosaurs and complex plant life on land existed.

Dr Dutkiewicz said: “Various causes have been proposed for the trigger and the end of this extreme ice age, but the most mysterious aspect is why it lasted for 57 million years – a time span hard for us humans to imagine.”

The team went back to a plate tectonic model that shows the evolution of continents and ocean basins at a time after the breakup of the ancient supercontinent Rodina. They connected it to a computer model that calculates CO2 degassing of underwater volcanoes along mid-ocean ridges – the sites where plates diverge and new ocean crust is born.

They soon realised that the start of the Sturtian ice age precisely correlates with an all-time low in volcanic CO2 emissions. In addition, the CO2 outflux remained relatively low for the entire duration of the ice age.

Dr Dutkiewicz said: “At this time, there were no multicellular animals or land plants on Earth. The greenhouse gas concentration of the atmosphere was almost entirely dictated by CO2 outgassing from volcanoes and by silicate rock weathering processes, which consume CO2.”

Co-author Professor Dietmar Müller from the University of Sydney said: "Geology ruled climate at this time. We think the Sturtian ice age kicked in due to a double whammy: a plate tectonic reorganisation brought volcanic degassing to a minimum, while simultaneously a continental volcanic province in Canada started eroding away, consuming atmospheric CO2.

“The result was that atmospheric CO2 fell to a level where glaciation kicks in – which we estimate to be below 200 parts per million, less than half today’s level.”

The team's work raises intriguing questions about Earth's long-term future. A recent theory proposed that over the next 250 million years, Earth would evolve towards Pangea Ultima, a supercontinent so hot that mammals might become extinct.

However, the Earth is also currently on a trajectory of lower volcanic CO2 emissions, as continental collisions increase and the plates slow down. So, perhaps Pangea Ultima will turn into a snowball again.

Dr Dutkiewicz said: “Whatever the future holds, it is important to note that geological climate change, of the type studied here, happens extremely slowly. According to NASA, human-induced climate change is happening at a pace 10 times faster than we have seen before.”

TOP IMAGE....Artists impression of 'Snowball Earth'.Credit NASA

LOWER IMAGE....View towards the Arkaroola Wilderness Sanctuary, Flinders Ranges, with the Sturt Formation glacial deposits from the Sturtian Glaciation circa 717–664 million years ago forming a prominent ridge in the middle of the photo on the left. Credit Professor Dietmar Müller/University of Sydney

#science #space #astronomy #physics #news #astrophysics

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idontwanttospoiltheparty · 3 months

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What do you think of Taylor getting all the hate? I think this is the first time in a long time an album announcement wasn't received well. People are usually neutral towards her even if they don't like her music. Maybe it's because she has been oversaturated she has been constantly releasing albums since 2022, and then the eras tour and break up drama what do you think?

I ended up writing a weird, tangential ramble, so in short, to answer your question: I think it is just oversaturation. She's sort of becoming a lightning rod for people to express all their frustrations with the world, which might be legitimate grievances and might even be fairly related to her (like say jet emissions), but her presence in pop culture just leads to her continuously being the vehicle to have these serious conversations, if that makes sense. Like, I wish she switched to renewable kerosene (which is a thing, look it up! though I imagine it may not be available at most airports) but it serves no one to center a single rich singer-songwriter in the discussion surrounding climate change and the energy transition. (and also people continuously dismiss her security concerns when her houses are like REGULARLY broken into.)

It's difficult not to read most of the backlash as a kneejerk reaction (and to be clear there IS valid criticism), which is also why I try not to give it too much headspace. It's not what I'm here for.

My additonal rambling below the cut (please don't expect more of these lol):

(there's some repetition here cause I actually wrote this bit first)

I have opinions on most Taylor-related news stories, but I find interacting with the haters as well as the fandom tiring in anything larger than small doses (I only follow a handful of swifties and most of them are mutuals).

That being said: I actually really understand the general "Taylor-fatigue" — as you said, she is everywhere these days — and I also think there are things that are totally fair to criticize about her (even hate her for I guess, I can't choose how people feel). But it's also hard to ignore the dehumanization she's subjected to on the daily (like the idea that her using her jet too much gives people the right to create an app to track her current location – as if her location is relevant to the amount of emissions she's caused). But I guess that's just the price you pay for the type of success she's gained. I also think one can't totally blame her. Yes, she's touring a lot and putting out tons of music but that's her job!! And I love these things and WANT more of them!! It doesn't to me seem reasonable to expect her not to attend football games to support her boyfriend just because people can't stop filming her. Being annoyed by how she's everywhere is normal, but projecting all that annoyance back onto her, leading to disproportionate criticism of everything she does: that's on everyone. I don't know if it's avoidable at this point, I just wish people interacted with her in a more self-aware way.

Also, regarding people finding the vibe of the next album cringe: again, I don't have an influence on how people feel about art lol, but I do find that some of the criticism seems to be assuming it is entirely serious, without a hint of irony, and frankly I find that silly, given Taylor's entire body of work. (There was a time when people took Look What You Made Me Do 100% at face value and made fun of it for that! but oh well, bunch of people missed the nuance of Anti-Hero. Anyways.)

Sorry, I don't actually want to get into a discussion about the minutiae of everything everyone says about her. Like, I don't want to feel obligated to provide my take on every single thing that she does or happens to her, whether I support her or don't support her in that particular instance. That is too much work in such an active fandom.

#ask #anon #taylor

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hylianengineer · 2 years

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I am smacking you all in the face with hope for the future, dammit! (affectionately)

There’s a trend I’m noticing with people in their 20s (I am also in my 20s but I’m not Like This for whatever reason): people keep saying stuff like “The world isn’t gonna be around for another 50 years” or “I’m not gonna live past 40.″ Which is disturbing in a lot of ways, obviously, and I suck at interpreting jokes so maybe it’s that, I do think they’re at least partly joking, but... Y’all need some hope in your lives, Jesus Christ. I know we live in an era of uncertainty and bad things exist but holy cow, you’ve gotta remember good things exist too! Otherwise you’ll just lose your mind and that’s not helping anything.

I know there are a lot of factors here, including human rights and politics and economics, etc., but I’m going to focus on the one I know the most about: climate change. And I’m in a unique position, because I am an environmental science student, which means I have heard all the climate doom stuff AND many of the possible solutions. I’ve been thinking of making a climate hope blog for a while now, but I’m having a hard time finding the energy. I’m increasingly convinced that needs to be a thing, though, so while I battle the annoying tasks of Real Life which are currently devouring my free time, here’s a reading/other resources list for anybody who needs some hope for the (environmental) future (tentatively organized from being the most-to-least work to read/watch/whatever, though that’s just in my experience and ymmv):

[Disclaimer: I am not affiliated with any of these things or their creators, they’re just things I enjoyed or found helpful]

The Future Crunch Newsletter: Want to hear about all the ways the world is getting better? Want to read about the downfall of the fossil fuel industry, the successes of renewable energy and electric vehicles, or the mind-blowing improvements in health and quality of life that are happening around the world? Then you will love this newsletter! This is one of those things I never stop recommending to people, because I know I’m not the only person whose sanity desperately needs it. This one does have a paid version which has more stuff but the free one is awesome too. I also highly recommend the annual “100 Good News Stories You Missed In [Year]” article. This is the single easiest and most accessible thing on this list, so if you find it hard to read books (very understandable, so do I), then you might find this newsletter more appealing.

How To Save A Planet [podcast]: This is mostly what is sounds like: a podcast in which each episode focuses on a planet-saving solution, and ends with a call to action about how you can contribute. Actually, hang on, back up: I don’t mean planet-saving in the sense of superhero movies, where one solution fixes everything. I mean little things that can all contribute to the big picture - that’s generally the kind of solutions those of us in the field of environmental studies talk about, and if you want to see this on a big scale (as in literally a step-by-step plan for putting a bunch of little things together into the big picture), check out Project Drawdown - I’ll talk about it more later.

It’s just neat to hear about the different (and sometimes bizarre) ways people are trying to solve this problem.

2040 [documentary]: Well, sort of a documentary? It’s been described as “an exercise in fact-based dreaming.” It’s the story of a filmmaker who travels the world to imagine a hopeful future for his daughter: one in which already existing solutions have been used to solve climate change. These solutions run the gamut from fairly normal (solar power) to kinda bizarre (kelp farming via marine permaculture - look up permaculture if sustainable farming is something you’re into, it’s insanely cool). Okay, kelp farming doesn’t sound that bizarre, but the way it’s depicted made my head explode, in a good way. Maybe that’s just me. I’ll stop rambling, here’s a Wikipedia article with a synopsis in case none of that made any sense.

Project Drawdown: Okay, fair warning, this one might melt your brain a little. (I mean, not all of it, they’ve got some great intro videos too. Just... the table of solutions is overwhelming.) But that’s not entirely a bad thing, because it is literally a step-by-step guide to climate change mitigation. Of course it’s not going to be simple. And yes, they did the math: the table of solutions consists of 94 different strategies, and how much CO2-equivalent emissions they would prevent or sequester in the next 30 years according to two different scenarios. It’s kinda wild to look at, because holy shit they did the math! It makes the whole thing feel concrete in a way most discussions of climate mitigation don’t. And if the math sounds a bit much, maybe check out these lovely video lessons, which are each about 15 minutes long.

(You might notice I keep saying mitigation, as opposed to say, prevention or something. Sorry folks, but we’re kinda past the stage of preventing it - we’re already experiencing climate change. But that doesn’t mean we can’t stop the worst of its effects, or that the world is gonna end. The world is changing, yeah. It does that, always has and always will, it’s just changing right now in ways we haven’t seen before. Yes, those changes could be really bad - some already are - but they’re far from the worst thing this planet has been through, and we have a lot of really brilliant and dedicated people working on this. It’ll be rough, no question, but I really do believe this is something we can get through.)

The Long Way To A Small Angry Planet by Becky Chambers: A sorta solarpunk scifi novel focusing on the multi-species crew of a wormhole-building spaceship and their chaotic found family dynamic. Some of the best worldbuilding I’ve ever encountered, and it’s an interesting story for our era because it shows how humanity has rebuilt after a mentioned-in-passing catastrophe which destroyed Earth, and somehow isn’t morbid about this at all. It’s also got an interesting dynamic on the galactic politics side of things, as humans aren’t in charge - we’re actually a small and minimally influential species, and one of the key parts of the novel is how the human captain of the Wayfarer wants to do big tunnel-building jobs that are usually left to other species. Becky Chambers has a lot of hopeful, cozy scifi novels, most of which I have not yet read, but everything I have read by her has been awesome.

Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge, and the Teachings of Plants by Robin Wall Kimmerer is a nonfiction book by a botanist, professor, and member of the Citizen Potawatomi Nation. It focuses on Traditional Ecological Knowledge (that’s a thing environmental academics talk about and it’s basically what it sounds like: the ways people in a variety of cultures, especially Indigenous ones, traditionally interact with and know the world around them), the relationship between people and the environment, and how these can intersect with Western science. If you’d like your entire understanding of human-environment relationships turned upside down in a way that will give you hope for the future, this is the book for you. It’s a great antidote to that thing people say about how humans are just bad and destructive and a plague upon the earth, yada yada yada. It’s also organized such that you don’t have to read the whole thing; each chapter stands well alone, and you can get a lot out of it even if you just read one (I admit to not having finished the book, executive dysfunction is a thing). I had to read this for a class last year and have recommended it to people every chance I’ve gotten since; it is that good.

#hope for the planet #climate change #climate change solutions #environmental issues #environmental science #hope #hope for the future #you guys i am begging you to engage with nondepressing stuff #i hope this is at least semi comprehensible #because i am suffering from 'this is my whole life and i don't know how much background normal people have' disease #i should mention that environmental scientists struggle with climate anxiety too! a lot! that's why we know so much about resources for it #one of the most common strategies is to take a solutions-based approach and i have found it very effective but ymmv #there's a saying about how knowledge is one of the best ways to fight anxiety and in my experience that is also very true #sorry to kinda throw this rant at you all on a sunday afternoon I don't know why I suddenly had to put it on paper (screen) but it has been #building for months and months as my classes have taught me all this cool stuff that i desperately want to share #profanity warning #i love you all please let me show you all the cool fact-based hopefulness #i am doing minimal proofreading so if this is chaos i am sorry; i have suddenly found the ability to Write Stuff today and I'm gonna use it #while it lasts

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reddancer1 · 22 days

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from Bernie

Pauline -

If you believe in democracy, if you believe in science, if you believe in justice and workers' rights, let me be very clear: The next several months will be the most important in modern American history.

Unfortunately, we are confronting a very difficult and complicated political situation.

Earlier this week, the Wall Street Journal released a poll showing Trump leading in almost every swing state. He leads by 5 in Arizona, 3 in Michigan, 4 in Nevada, 3 in Pennsylvania, and is tied in Wisconsin.

If Trump wins even two of those states, it's game over.

And I think sometimes we slouch off the idea that Trump can win. It's hard to imagine that someone who was such a menace to the working class of this country could be popular enough with them to win a second term -- especially after we all lived through his first. I also believe sometimes we don't think enough about just how bad it will be policy-wise if he is re-elected.

Take one issue for example: Climate change.

Trump does not believe in climate change.

So what does that mean?

It means that not only all of the work we have done in trying to transform our energy systems away from fossil fuel will be undone, but every other country in the world is going to say “Hey if the second largest emitter in the world is giving up, than we're not going to do it either.”

And that really means dooming our kids and future generations to a very, very unhealthy, perhaps uninhabitable world.

So you don't need to know anything more than that to understand how dangerous Trump is.

But obviously the danger is much greater than just climate change.

Take another issue for example: American democracy.

Trump does not believe in, or care about, the future of American democracy.

So what does that mean?

It means that if he wins, you can expect more extreme gerrymandering, more laws and regulations making it easier for billionaires to buy elections, more efforts to keep people of color and young people from the ballot box, more election workers being harassed and threatened, more refusing to accept the outcome of election results, more political violence and, as a result of his policies and lies, more and more people increasingly believing democracy itself does not work for them.

I happen to believe that what this really means is that if Trump wins, the almost 250-year experiment of American democracy is all but over.

But obviously the danger is much greater than just that.

Trump has already tried to take away health care from tens of millions of people. He’ll try again in a second term.

Trump signed tax cuts where almost all the benefits went to the top 1 percent. He’ll try to make them permanent in a second term.

Trump brags about appointing 3 justices to the Supreme Court who helped repeal Roe v. Wade. He and his supporters have escalated their attacks on women’s’ rights across the country. In a second term he’ll try for a national abortion ban.

Other issues like education, gun control, criminal justice reform, income and wealth inequality, the cost of prescription drugs, workers rights, LGBTQ rights and more will all move backward.

Bottom line: We have to appreciate how unbelievably severe this current moment is.

Many of us believe that while the Biden administration can lay claim to some significant accomplishments, they are simply not enough given the very serious crises facing the working families of our country. Further, millions of us strongly disagree with the President’s position on the war in Gaza.

So what are we as progressives to do in this election?

First, we must all acknowledge that sitting out this election or even voting for Trump is definitely not the answer. That leads to catastrophe.

So then what?

In this unprecedented moment in American history we must make clear to the Democratic leadership and everyone else that we cannot return to the same old, same old establishment politics.

We must make it clear that if Democrats are given another chance after this election we cannot continue to ignore the needs of tens of millions of working families. We cannot continue to accept a political system where billionaires buy elections and an economy which has more income and wealth inequality than at any time since the 1920s. We cannot accept a government where the very rich get much richer while a majority of Americans live in economic desperation. We must go further on climate change. And we must restore faith in American democracy.

We must make it clear that we will fight for a strong, progressive agenda that represents the needs of working people, and not just the billionaire class, lobbyists and wealthy campaign contributors.

How do we do that?

It means supporting not just Joe Biden, but progressives who will fight for that agenda in Congress. It means donating, volunteering, posting on social media about your desire not just to beat Trump, but that your expectation for what a second term would look like for a Biden administration.

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beyondthedustjacket · 9 months

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Bookish Asks

ORIGINAL BOOK TAG BY CINNASBOOKS

SPINE — WHAT IS YOUR FAVOURITE GENRE TO READ?

Probably fantasy or contemporary romance. Fantasy can be difficult for me to get into, but I enjoy it once the story gets moving. As for contemporary romance, there's nothing like some good fluff to put a smile on my face.

COMMA — WHO IS YOUR FAVOURITE CHARACTER…. EVER!?

This one is so hard! The first literary character who came to mind was Diana Barry. She's such a good friend and could achieve so much if her family simply gave her the chance.

PAGE — HOW DO YOU GET OUT OF A BOOK SLUMP?

Honestly, if I'm in a slump, I don't force myself to read. I don't want to ruin the enjoyment of it by making it a chore. I always find my way back eventually.

LIBRARY — WHAT IS ONE BOOK THAT CHANGED YOUR VIEWS ON A TOPIC?

I wouldn't say this book changed my views about the topic since I already agree with and support her viewpoints, but Greta Thunberg's speech collection, No One Is Too Small Too Make a Difference, taught me a lot about climate change and the crisis our planet is currently undergoing. She provides tons of information about it that I didn't know about before reading her book. Her speeches really helped me understand the issue and the scientific evidence behind it on a much deeper level. She makes it easy to understand and doesn't come off as condescending. She genuinely cares about the earth and its continuation.

WORDS — WHAT BOOK MADE YOU LOVE READING?

I didn't have the same childhood experience that many avid readers had. Others talk about how amazing reading was for them as a child, but, for me, it was a chore. I was constantly being forced to read books in school that I didn't find interesting whatsoever. Because of that, I didn't experience the childhood wonder of discovering books like the Percy Jackson series or the Chronicles of Narnia for the first time. I didn't start reading for personal enjoyment until my last year of high school. After I was free from narratives I didn't care about, I felt so much happiness once I found books that I actually enjoyed. So, overall, there isn't necessarily any one book that made me love reading. Instead, it was finally being given the chance to read what I wanted that changed my perception of it.

TYPEWRITER — HAVE YOU EVER CRIED OVER A BOOK?

Bridge to Terabithia is in the lead on this one, however, it did not actually achieve the task. No book that I have read has been successful in making me cry. (If you have a challenge for me, send it my way, lol!)

LETTER — WHO IS YOUR CHARACTER CRUSH?

I'm changing this question just a little bit since I don't really have an answer for it. In regards of which character I relate to and see myself in the most, it would have to be Nick Nelson from Heartstopper without a doubt. So many things he experienced in discovering his sexuality is what I went through as well. So much so that, in certain points of the story, it's almost a step-by-step recreation of my life. It's rather odd, but cathartic at the same time.

SPELLING — IF YOU COULD BE PUT INTO ANY UNIVERSE, WHICH WOULD IT BE?

I'm going with the Osemanverse! (Can you tell Alice Oseman is my fave yet?) Alice has put so much effort into her extended universe that exists within her novels. The Osemanverse provides such a warm feeling of comfort for me. I truly can't imagine a world without her works.

BOOKSTORE — IF YOU HAD A CHARACTER WRITTEN BASED ON YOU, WHAT WOULD THEIR PERSONALITY AND NAME BE?

Hopefully, I would just be me. I'm enough the way I am and I wouldn't change a single thing about myself.

GRAMMAR — WHAT IS THE SHORTEST PERIOD OF TIME IT HAS TAKEN YOU TO READ A NOVEL?

Probably a day, but only because I devoured Girl Made of Stars by Ashley Herring Blake in one long, extended sitting.

SCROLL — WHAT IS YOUR FAVOURITE WEATHER TO READ IN?

Thunderstorms are where it's at for me!

PRINTER — WHY DO YOU READ?

Because it's fun! I like reading about other people's viewpoints and opinions, as well as discovering new fictional worlds that authors have put their hearts and souls into. Reading really is a beautiful thing.

PAPERBACK — STRANGEST PLACE YOU HAVE READ A BOOK?

I guess my answer would have to be the bathtub? I like to dim the lights and use bath bombs in the water as I take some time to relax. I don't know if I would call this strange though because I know quite a few people who do this as well.

HARDCOVER — LEAST FAVOURITE BOOK AND WHY?

Stephen King's It, primarily because of that extremely gross scene towards the end. (I won't say what it is, but I'm sure other reviewers know what I'm talking about.) Please research that book before you read it. I know it's horror and all, but that scene went way too far in my opinion. That was my first Stephen King book and I will never read another.

BESTSELLER — WHO IS YOUR FAVOURITE AUTHOR?

Definitely Alice Oseman! Their books make me feel so warm and happy. I know I can always turn to their work if I ever need a pick-me-up!

BINDING — IF YOU COULD GIVE ANY BOOK TO A LOVED ONE, WHAT WOULD IT BE AND WHY?

My sister is a lot like me in the sense that she didn't enjoy reading when she was younger. However, she still holds that view to a certain degree. If I recommend a book for her, she knows that I chose it because I'm sure she will like it. That's why I gave her a Chronicles of Narnia boxset. And she loves them!

CHAPTER — DO YOU THINK READING IS FOR EVERYONE?

That's a hard question. I think people consume stories differently and in their own ways. Maybe someone likes physical books while another person likes the audio versions? Someone else could prefer to simply watch the movie or TV adaptation of story? All of those options are fine. I think we need to let go of the idea that if someone doesn't read then they aren't as intelligent as people who do. Because that's simply not true. We should all be allowed to consume stories in whatever format suits us the best without the fear of judgment from others.

BLURB — HOW MANY BOOKS ARE YOU READING RIGHT NOW?

Don't look at me.

CLIFFHANGER — WHAT BOOK(S) ARE YOU READING CURRENTLY?

I won't include books that I haven't picked up in a while because we'd be here forever if I did. The two books I'm most actively reading are Beartown as well as The Duke and I. Beartown is apart of my current Shelf Unhaul challenge, which was inspired by BooksAndLala's Closet Unhaul series. If you remember the earlier question about odd reading locations, I said that I like to unwind and read in the bathtub. That's where I take some time to catch up on The Duke and I. Nothing like a good romance while being surrounded by candles, lol!

COVER — RECOMMEND A BOOK FOR ME?

Heartstopper by Alice Oseman, especially if you like sweet, fluffy stories about friendship and romance.

PROLOGUE — DESCRIBE THE BOOK YOU ARE CURRENTLY READING USING ONLY EMOJIS?

I want to clarify that I've only read the first chapter of Beartown, so I'm only doing The Duke and I for this one, lol! 🤭👸🏻💅🏻✨👑💍💗

EPILOGUE — IF YOU COULD RENAME ANY BOOK, WHAT WOULD IT BE?

I genuinely can't think of a book for this one. I don't necessarily have issues with book titles because I know it's not (usually) up to the author what they're book is titled or how the cover is designed.

TITLE — WHAT CHARACTER WOULD BE YOUR BFF?

I'd say Tori Spring, but I'm sure you're all tired of me mentioning the Osemanverse over and over all, so I'll throw in a second character, lol! Annabeth Chase, forever and always! She's such a great character!

#fun stuff

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emmaotoole · 1 year

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Exploring The Rooftop Garden: Ottawa book launch showcases author’s debut novel

This piece was originally published on Capital Current. You can view it here.

At a coffee shop in Berlin, colourful book spines line the walls. They rest on tall, oak bookshelves, and are interrupted only by a countertop filled with pastries and a panel of windows. They surround customers sitting at tables, sipping lattes.

To journalist and author Menaka Raman-Wilms, the store, Shakespeare and Sons, is more than just a coffee shop. It’s where she began writing her debut novel, The Rooftop Garden.

On Saturday night, book lovers gathered at the Laurel Street location near Little Italy to meet with and learn about the author behind the novel.

Raman-Wilms’ The Rooftop Garden follows the lives of two childhood friends, Nabila and Matthew, in their 20s. Nabila is a scientist in Toronto, but when Matthew gets swept up in an alt-right group that leads him to Berlin, Nabila travels to find him. The novel highlights themes of friendship, loneliness, climate change and radicalization.

At the Nov. 26 book launch, Raman-Wilms read an excerpt from the characters’ childhoods and discussed her novel in conversation with Carleton University journalism professor and fellow author Sarah Everts.

As a novelist and a journalist, Raman-Wilms highlighted the importance of “headspaces” when balancing her two writing styles. She sees creative and journalistic writing as “two different dialects of the same language” — dialects that require their own space and time.

“With journalism, it’s very in the moment. You’ve got to think quickly; you’ve got to get stuff down fast,” she said. “With creative writing, I find it always takes me a bit longer. I need a bit more space.

“I need to sit in a coffee shop or somewhere else where I can physically get out of the headspace of writing journalistically.”

Raman-Wilms’ attraction to coffee shops worked its way into The Rooftop Garden with the fictional Café Arboretum.

The novel’s café, she says, was loosely inspired by Shakespeare and Sons. For Café Arboretum, Raman-Wilms took the Berlin café’s book-lined walls and injected plenty of greenery in her imagination, adding that she found beauty in “the integration of the literary and the horticultural worlds.”

Raman-Wilms says she also drew inspiration from Berlin’s integration of urban and natural spaces. After the Second World War, many of the city’s destroyed buildings were never fully rebuilt, so the natural world “moved in and took over.”

“That really triggered my imagination because we often pave over the natural world and make it into urban spaces. But this was the opposite of that.

“There were these previously urban spaces that were being reclaimed by trees or bushes,” she said. “And I just thought that was so incredible.”

After her time in Berlin, Raman-Wilms returned to Canada where she finished her novel. It was published by B.C.-based Nightwood Editions last month.

Nightwood publisher Emma Skagen said one of the most important themes of Raman-Wilms’ novel lies in Nabila and Matthew’s relationship. When Matthew gets caught up in extremist views, Nabila must empathize with Matthew before she can help him.

“Nabila is a scientist, and she thinks in facts. That causes an interesting tension because she wants to save him, but doesn’t really understand how he got there in the first place,” Skagen said.

She added that while it can be “hard to feel compassion” for people with views different from our own, it’s crucial.

“If it were someone in your life and you wanted to help them see that they’re getting involved in something that’s wrong, in a way you have to just step back and be there for them,” Skagen said.

Author and former family therapist Diana Stevan noted the importance of compassion in the novel, too. Her therapy background gives Stevan a nuanced persepctive on Nabila and Matthew’s relationship.

“I’m very aware of the fact that we’re vulnerable, depending on what’s happening in our lives and the support we get,” Stevan said.

A key part of understanding the characters as adults, she said, stems from their childhoods. Stevan describes Nabila’s homelife as loving and nurturing while Matthew’s was deprived and lonely.

“He doesn’t want to do bad stuff. But you see him going through these motions. And he’s caught,” Stevan says.

“He didn’t have the support to be able to sort out what he was doing. For that reason, I was intrigued by where the writer would take this story.”

Stevan’s full review of the novel is published in The Miramichi Reader.

The event at Happy Goat Coffee Co. was one of three book launches for the novel since The Rooftop Garden’s release; the other two took place in Winnipeg and Toronto.

The Ottawa launch was a return to the city for Raman-Wilms, who studied journalism at Carleton University, graduating in 2020 with a Master’s degree. During her time at Carleton, she was also a reporter with Capital Current.

When Raman-Wilms isn’t writing fiction, she can be heard hosting the Globe and Mail’s daily podcast, The Decibel.

#writing #capitalcurrent

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shreddedparchment · 3 years

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A Wife for Thor Pt.24

What She’s Done

05/19/2021

Pairing: King!Thor x Reader Word Count: 5,590

Warnings: language, angst, fluff, Loki being the best bro, pregnancy problems

A/N: I’m sorry this is so late. I’m not going to explain too much as I want the focus to be on the chapter but I’m feeling better. Hope you all enjoy this one and I hope you can forgive me. haha As always, if you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo

Please DO NOT repost my work on any other sites or blogs!

REBLOGS are always welcome!

The sound of the fanfare outside is muted. The heavy doors of the main room are shut.

Thor sits on his large steel, silver, and wooden throne. Normally, your own throne would have been moved into the room so that you could sit beside him. Today however, he wants you standing.

Loki stands on Thor’s left, his hands moving across his tablet at godly speeds. He’s busy. Always busy. While Thor has the final say, Loki sets everything up for him and comes to him with the choices that must be made.

He’s indispensable and both you and Thor know it. So, when the large doors are thrown open and Thor takes his hand off of your lower waist where he’d been massaging the knots away, as Ambassador Coates walks forward, you glare right at him and his judging distrustful look at the sight of Asgard’s Prince.

The music outside, large horns that sound more like a call to battle, slowly die and are completely cut off when the doors are shut. Just outside you know two Valkyrie are standing guard.

Inside, two more regular guards stand at attention.

“Ambassador Coates, I’m glad you saw fit to accept my invitation,” Thor says casually.

One wouldn’t know that Thor is angry. He sounds so welcoming. The charm he’s exuding is one you’ve never seen him use before but Loki doesn’t seem surprised by it. Instead, Loki’s lips seem to curve upwards a little in the teeniest smirk.

The Ambassador does as he’s expected and once he’s near the foot of the raised wooden floor where Thor’s throne sits, he gives a quick bow meeting first Thor’s singular eye and then your own blank gaze.

Keeping your anger in check is easy. You’re able to wipe your face of all emotion and it’s a skill now that you’re glad you learned in the orphanage you’d grown up in. Never letting anyone know how sad or hurt you are was key to your survival.

“Your Majesties,” the ambassador states, the irritation in his voice loud and clear for all of you to hear.

It looks like Thor’s plan to roll out the red carpet as if the ambassador were visiting royalty got his message across clearly.

“I hope I find you in good health? Are you faring well with the pregnancy?”

You don’t answer him. You simply stare.

“We’re well enough,” Thor begins. “Forgive me in my haste to get to the point, Ambassador Coates but as I hear it from my brother, you have been making it very difficult for Her Majesty the Queen of Asgard to meet with you, despite her warnings that what she had to share was imperative to the safety of Earth and human-kind.”

The ambassador blinks. He doesn’t attempt to speak or react in any other way than to show that he’s processing Thor’s words. All signs of irritation at his welcome gone.

“Would you say that is a fair statement for her having sent, what was it? Four emails and three phone calls?” Thor asks Loki.

“Seven emails and four phone calls,” he corrects.

“Right. Seven and four.”

“Your Majesty…”

“I think you have been under the impression that my marriage to my wife has been one in name only. She’s Queen but not really? Right? She has no power or authority? Is that what you think?”

Ambassador Coates swallows hard, sweat beading along his temples. He’s not a stout man. In fact, most women would think him good looking. Nothing to Thor or Loki, but for a human he’s handsome. His sweating in this climate makes no sense unless he’s suddenly stressed.

Maybe you shouldn’t feel bad but you do just a bit. You can’t imagine what he must feel being scrutinized by Thor, yourself, and Loki. Clearly he did something wrong and now he knows it.

“Your Majesties, I-I meant no offense. Unfortunately this is a busy time for myself and my colleagues and-”

“We have no time for your excuses,” Thor sits up straighter and draws his legs a little closer together before he licks his lips and holds his hand out towards you.

Taking it, you watch him get up and then he helps you sit before checking on you, “Better, cherub?”

You nod, looking up at him as he caresses the side of your head.

“The only reason you hold the job that you currently do is because my people and I chose to settle on Earth. You might say you owe it to us. Perhaps you’d still have been employed should we not have come here but from what I understand, your salary is considerably more than what it would have been were you in some other position.

“You are married and have children, too. Don’t you?” Thor asks.

“Y-Yes, Your Majesty.”

“So, it’s important to keep your job. Isn’t it?”

He says nothing, this time simply looking down at Thor’s feet.

“My wife is not just Queen in name but she has been exemplary in her devotion of ruling the people of Asgard at my side with honor and grace. The people love her. I’m not sure what made you think you could slight an Asgardian Queen but let me be clear. If our people should find out that there was such disrespect, believe me when I tell you that the loss of your job would be the last thing you’d have to worry about.”

“And just to be clear,” Loki cuts in as Thor’s taking a breath. “My brother is not threatening you. This is a statement of fact. We Asgardians are fiercely loyal and easily offended.”

You like that Ambassador Coates isn’t glaring at Loki anymore. The fear in his eyes is worrying, but you also know that your husband and brother would do nothing to actually hurt this idiot. They’re just making sure he knows where he stands.

Thor crosses his large arms across his wide chest. Though you don’t think he means it to be intimidating, you can see from the ambassador’s gulp that Thor’s minor flex has great impact.

Gods, he’s huge.

“As it just so happens, aside from being a Queen without fault to this kingdom, the Queen of Asgard has seen fit to continue to perform in her duties as the bridge between our two peoples. She refuses to let us make decisions for the human race and was attempting to contact you to warn you of impending dangers. And you, what was the phrase, love?”

“Blew me off.”

“That’s right, you blew her off. And yet we welcome you with respect and grace.”

“Your Majesties,” the ambassador begins, but Thor holds up his hand and he stops.

“Let this be a lesson in humility for you. I love Earth and for that reason alone, in addition to the fact that this is my wife’s home and now mine, we will forgive this lapse of judgement on your part,” you’ve never heard Thor sound more like a King than in this moment.

It’s also one of those moments where you really want to drag him back to the room and get him naked. He’s never been this attractive.

The ambassador bows his head, taking his punishment with dignity.

“Forgive me, your Majesties,” he begins to say something, but then stops himself.

“Speak your mind, Ambassador Coates,” Loki urges, seeing something you and Thor don’t.

“I merely wish to apologize for my lack of forethought. I was not the only one dismissing Her Majesty the Queen of Asgard but will be sure to rectify the behavior with my colleagues when I return.”

Loki smiles, turning his gentle gaze on you as he realizes that you were right. It wasn’t misogyny. Not on Ambassador Coates’s part. That might not be the case for everyone though.

“Perhaps I should schedule meetings with your colleagues so that we might have a quick talk about the expectations we have for our relationship going forward?”

Loki’s threat is veiled heavily, but Ambassador Coates still picks up on it and his face goes a little pale.

“I don’t think that’s necessary, Your Highness. I will pass along the sentiments, if you will let me.”

There’s a burning satisfaction in your chest. Something about watching Ambassador Coates finally show not just you but Loki the respect he deserves makes you so happy.

“My Queen?” Loki prompts you, looking to you to wait for your reply.

“I think we can give him a chance to express our disappointment for us. He is our ambassador. Isn’t that right Ambassador Coates?”

Coates looks relieved, pressing his hand to his chest as he bows his head to you again.

It’s a strange sensation to see the gratitude on his face and his posture relaxes as a result. You literally just did that. You gave him some forgiveness and it really does make all the difference.

“I will support you and the Asgardian throne with more fervor from here on out, Your Majesty.”

“Cool,” you shrug, reaching to place your hand on the back of Thor’s neck, absolutely beaming at him.

He chuckles and puts his hand back on your waist, giving you a gentle squeeze and shake.

“Are you happy, my cherub?”

You nod, unable to contain the smile that stretches across your lips and you lean into him.

“Good. My job here is done then. Now, I have some things to do,” Thor rises and moves around until he’s facing you and pulls you up into a chaste but loving kiss.

With a caress to your belly, he looks at Loki and nods.

“I’ll leave the rest to you and my Queen, brother.”

“Sif will meet you by the docks,” Loki nods.

“Wonderful. I’ll see you later, love. If you need me, just tell Loki and I will come running.”

“‘Kay,” you smile.

Thor turns back to your guest and moves towards him, clapping his shoulder as he passes, “Do better, Ambassador Coates. Do better.”

All three of you watch Thor strut for the large front doors. The guard opens it for him and when he’s out of sight, the doors shutting behind him, you move to take your seat on the throne. Loki scoots a little closer to your side but stands with his tablet ready.

“Now, I think we should get down to the reason I wanted to meet with you,” you start and Ambassador Coates stands a little straighter. “But...I don’t know about you but this whole towering over you sitting on a throne thing is not really my style and feels a little forced. Let’s go to my sitting room.”

Loki smirks as Ambassador Coates relaxes a little more and even smiles, “Yes, Your Majesty.”

As the three of you walk up the steps to the right of the throne room to climb up to the small sitting room that had been set aside for you and your private entertaining, you steal a few glances at Ambassador Coates.

He still looks a little rattled and you stroke your stomach, the long silk dress you’re wearing, ruffled skirt and loose waist giving it a soft flowing quality is still noticeable and Ambassador Coates steals a few glances.

“Didn’t think I was really pregnant?”

He blanches, “What? N-No, Your Majesty! I had no reason to doubt you.”

“It’s okay. A lot of people didn’t believe it until I came back from my little vacation. I just wanted to make sure that it would take. We’re all so dependent on this little one and a lot is riding on my having Thor’s heir quickly.”

“No one who has seen you rule since your marriage would doubt your commitment to this union, Y/N,” Loki assures you gently.

He’s your number one supporter and you’re so damn grateful for him.

All three of you fall into silence but with your heavy belly and your slow walk, it stretches on.

“I’m sorry about Thor’s enthusiasm to put you in your place,” you give Coates a small apologetic smile but he quickly shakes his head. “He can be a little passionate.”

“No, Your Majesty, the mistake was mine. I should have paid you the respect you deserved. It’s-You work in an environment for too long and you begin to adopt certain behaviors that you should know aren’t acceptable but when everyone is doing it and-I was wrong. I can’t blame Thor for setting me straight.”

“Thank you, for understanding,” you shrug.

“Thank you for not holding it against me and letting me do better.”

It takes only another few minutes to reach the sitting room and you make a beeline for the small loveseat before dropping into it and leaning back against the soft plush cushions.

“Whew, I probably should have done my research on how pregnancy would affect all aspects of my life before agreeing to it,” a joke and Coates gets it because he looks respectfully amused.

Loki scoffs, “With Thor, I doubt you’d have had much choice in the matter. He is also believed to be a God of fertility, you know?”

“Loki!”

The small shock on your face really makes Coates laugh this time and your neck, ears, and cheeks burn.

Not wanting to drag this meeting out for a long time you clear your throat and Loki sits down on the armchair beside you opposite Coates’s own seat.

“I should really be more formal, but I’m not kidding when I tell you that this pregnancy is taking a toll on me.”

“Think nothing of it, Your Majesty,” Coates assures you.

“I’m not sure what you’ll be able to do with this information and maybe it’ll be best if, with your help, you can get a meeting in front of both the United Nations and NATO scheduled for me to speak to them directly.

“Thor and Loki would be there with me, of course, but it was my idea to even bring this to your attention.”

“I will be of any assistance that I can be,” Coates nods, face serious and attentive.

“We wanted to wait until we had more concrete information to give Earth’s leaders but our Queen is adamant that an early warning is better than detailed information,” Loki explains.

“Is the Earth in danger?” Coates asks, worried now.

“Sort of,” you nod. “Truth is, we don’t know. What we do know is that there’s an energy signature that we’ve been monitoring for months. Almost my entire first year of marriage. What we do know is that the energy signal was strong enough to bring Doctor Foster here to look for an explanation and my brother-in-law has kept his eye on it too. It’s familiar to him and not unthreatening so we’ve been preparing watch stations across the globe. We have one in North and South America, Australia, almost every continent so that we won’t miss any kind of danger that comes falling from the sky.

“We don’t want a repeat of New York,” you look at Loki and Coates looks at him too but neither of you have any kind of judgement in your expressions.

Maybe a little for Coates, but he quickly turns his gaze back on you.

“I wanted to give the people of Earth time to prepare for that kind of attack. The Avengers are already on the case and have been helping build up a defense but they can only do so much. Their focus is going to be on the bigger fight if it comes to that. I want to give us a fighting chance on the ground where regular people are often the ones to get hurt and suffer from big threats like this.

“I don’t want the casualties to look like they have in the past when something or someone threatens us. So, I just want to give world leaders a briefing on what we’ve found, what we’ve built in defense, and give them the resources to keep track of what we’re keeping track of.

“We’re at a unique advantage with not only Asgard’s knowledge, technology, and resources. We’re still a growing nation and what we do have is lots of strength. I’ve been thinking about it a lot and while the Valkyrie have to stay here to protect my family, we have a sizable guard that can be split into a few regiments to send out to the places that will need it most and still have enough forces to protect New Asgard.”

Coates is thinking hard, then his hand dives into his pocket and he pulls out his phone, “I’ll start making calls and can probably have something set up the day after tomorrow. If the threat is serious enough to make you worry about us humans this much, I think the sooner the better.”

“It is serious enough,” Loki assures him. “Even if it turns into nothing, we would all rather have done everything we could to minimize damage to both the humans of Earth and New Asgard.”

“Then I’ll get started. Is there any kind of data that I should see in order to convince my bosses?”

You look to Loki and reach out, placing your hand on his arm, “Loki, take Ambassador Coates down to the dungeon and let him get a look at anything we’ve gathered in the monitoring station. You’ll forgive me for not coming with you, Ambassador Coates? I really can’t stand walking around much longer today.”

“Of course, please do not mind me,” he assures you, giving you a small bow.

“Shall I have your lunch brought in here?” Loki asks.

“Please?”

He nods and with a gesture at Ambassador Coates, leads the way to the door.

“When you’ve made any significant progress, I will be in here. Can you come and let me know?”

Coates nods, the phone now pressed to his ear, “As soon as I know something, Your Majesty.”

They leave you in an appropriate rush and you relax against the cushions of your sofa feeling like a small burden’s been lifting off your shoulders.

You’ve done your part now. You’ve warned your Ambassador, now it’s his job to convince his higher-ups and hopefully they listen.

Estrid does eventually come with your lunch and you eat slowly, thinking through your options for Coates and the rest of the governments of the world. Splitting the Asgardian army up isn’t ideal, but they pack a punch. Even just a handful of soldiers in a city would make a difference.

You finish eating and you finish your tea. You get up to walk a little around the sitting room but as the afternoon wears on, you start to feel suffocated inside and Estrid happily goes with you down to your gardens.

Most of your plants have been well taken care of.

“His Majesty made sure that we kept all of your plants healthy for you,” Estrid informs you, moving to walk a few steps behind you as you walk around with a small watering can.

His consideration brings a smile to your lips.

Thor really can be so sweet. So loving. You hate that some of the time from your first year was stolen by what happened with Jane, but it couldn’t be helped. He had to discover what it would mean to lose you and you had to learn that depending on yourself is still just as important married as it was when you had no one.

Maybe it’s even more important now? You can get lost in your relationship with Thor and while that’s super tempting, to have your world start and end with Thor and your married life together, you are still your own person.

You have goals for your career and shared dreams with him too. You’ve got your hobbies and Thor has his. Both of you needed the distance.

Despite that, even though you know that the space was good for both of you, even if it hurt like hell to get it the way you two did, you’re actually really happy to be back home.

As you reach over to water one of your taller butterfly bushes, you gasp and pull your arm back against your body as a small sharp pain rocks your senses and blinds your vision for a split second.

“Your Majesty?” Estrid hurries forward.

“I’m fine, Estrid,” you assure her, waiting another second to see if the pain will come back.

Reaching down you rub the spot on your tummy where you’d felt it and wonder if maybe the baby is just kicking especially hard today.

“Shall I fetch the doctors?”

“No, really. I’m fine, Estrid.”

You move to the next plant and water a few more as you head towards the small greenhouse with the Asgardian plants you’re still trying to perfect the care for but as you reach for the door, you double over as a shooting pain stretches across the same side as before then moves down onto the base of your belly.

The watering can falls from your hand as you reach out to brace yourself against the door and hits the floor with a clunk as the water goes all over your flats, soaking your feet.

“Your Majesty!”

Estrid races to you, hands placed on your back and arm to support you as she looks to steal a glance at your face.

With your eyes shut tight, you groan and whimper as the pain just gets sharper.

“Estrid…” it takes a moment to catch your breath. “Get the doctors.”

“Guard!” Estrid calls, forcing you to let go of the door so that she can lead you to a bench. “Guard, send for the doctor!”

“Thor,” you whimper, sitting slowly and gasping as the pain intensifies. “Get Thor.”

“I’ll send for him, my Queen,” Estrid assures you and now that you’re seated, she leaves you to run and hurry the guard.

“What’s wrong?”

“Loki?” you call breathlessly, searching for his face for the comfort you know it’ll give you to have him close.

“Here,” he calls out for you and hurries around the corner. “I’m here. What’s happened? What’s wrong?”

He hovers over you, leaning over, his hands carefully pressed to your cheek and the other on your stomach.

“It hurts,” you sob without tears, “Loki…”

“It’s alright,” he promises. “You and my nephew will be fine. Come on, put your arm around my neck.”

His certainty does help and you get your arm around him. With ease he squats down and lifts you into his arms and with you moves back into the palace.

~~~~~~~~~~

It feels like a long time when you open your eyes again. You’re dizzy a little and weak. Your body feels heavy and it’s a struggle to sit up.

Looking around, you realize you’re in your bedroom alone. The sky outside is dark and the room is dim with only the fireplace lit to cast a warm orange glow around the dark room.

“Loki?” you try, remembering him carrying you when he found you in the garden.

No movement.

“Thor? Estrid?” You’d sent her to get the doctors and to get Thor. Had the doctors come?

Thor’s favorite armchair is placed by your bed, angled towards you so he must have been in here sitting by you waiting for you to wake up.

With a heavy sigh, you realize that he must have been out of his mind with worry when he heard what happened. Is the baby okay?

You put your hands on your tummy and wait for movement. He does wiggle around a little. Normal for you and him and that makes you feel better about the pain that had come out of nowhere.

It takes you too long to get up and out of bed. You’re in your nightgown, a long simple piece with modern touches but it’s also very similar to some of the long flowing white ones you remember seeing in history books.

Taking extra time to stretch up onto your feet just in case the pain comes back, you breathe a sigh of relief when you take your first step and find that you’re okay.

“Oh, baby,” you reach down and rub the sides of your bump. “You scared me, rascal.”

You know that you should probably stay still. Staying in bed is probably what your Doctors suggested but the empty chair has you worried about Thor and what state he might be in.

So instead of staying where you should, you open your bedroom door and step out into the hallway.

The spots to either side where there’s usually a guard are empty.

You look up towards the other end of the hall and see that the two soldiers have moved to stand at the center of the hall, shoulders tense and obviously distracted. Further down, at what you think they must be staring at is a grouping of palace staff. People you recognize. Estrid stands among them, frowning at the small crack in the door through which pours a line of bright white light from the sitting room you share with Thor.

Did something happen?

As you pass the two guards the jump and hurry back to the sides of your bedroom door where they belong. Their flurry of movement must have drawn the attention of the others standing by the door. They also seem to jump, look shamed and worried, before they move away from the door and head in all different directions to get back to work.

One of the maids that passes you curtsies before she scurries off stealing a look of regret at you.

Estrid stands rigid, hands clasped to her front before she steps back a bit to give you room.

“What is it, Estrid?”

She doesn’t say anything. She looks upset, her lips fixed into a severe line, eyes full of anger as she shakes her head.

“Where’s Loki? Thor?” you check, stopping by her and she only looks at the door.

You can hear muted voices from inside and your heart begins to pound.

Is it the doctors? Are Thor and Loki getting bad news? The baby was just moving though!

Your baby has to be okay. Healthy even. Nothing was wrong before you came back home.

Clinging to your bump, you move towards the crack in the door and with the breath leaving your lungs in fear of what you’ll overhear you just go ahead and push the door open because eavesdropping hasn’t served you well in the past.

If something needs to be said, you want to hear it without hiding.

Of course, what you aren’t expecting to find is Loki facing you by the long sofa where Thor usually lounges, resting his head on your lap. Behind Loki, what must have given him that frustrated look on his face is Thor, Jane clinging to his arm as she finishes speaking the thought you just interrupted as they all turn to look at you.

“-can’t help it. I love you. I-”

The absolute fury that engulfs you is indescribable.

For one year-long second, you inhale and a million thoughts cross your mind. The one you grasp onto, in favor of the ones involving murder and hurt and violence, is the one of your baby.

This kind of anger is bad for him. You can’t let it consume you. Not when you need to stay good for him.

Loki looks down at his feet, disappointment and shame overcoming his pale, handsome features.

Thor quickly jerks his hand out of Jane’s grip and moves towards you but stops when you speak only a few feet away.

“Jane?”

She swallows hard, then frowns, “I only came to warn Thor that the readings have gotten stronger. I-”

“I don’t care why you’re here. I only care that you are here. You aren’t welcome in my house, near my husband, or on any piece of land in this Kingdom,” you take a step towards them and stop as you stroke your belly to remind you to keep calm. “I want you gone. Out of my home, away from my people, and if you trespass here again, I’ll have you thrown in jail. You aren’t welcome in New Asgard.”

“You can’t ban me from an entire Kingdom,” she argues, moving forward towards you.

“Try me,” you warn. “Out of respect for what you meant to Thor in the past, I’ve kept your name clean. I haven’t told anyone what you tried to do here, but here you are trying again. Now either you want me to trash you, or you seriously can’t take a hint.

“We don’t want you here.”

“Thor invited me himself, if he didn’t want me here, why would he do that?”

You grind your teeth, again stroking your tummy, “You’re right. I don’t know why my husband would invite you here when I have made it very clear that you aren’t welcome. Whatever the reason, he and I will discuss it together, because we’re married. Husband and wife. Until the day I die, at least, since he’ll outlive me by two thousand years.

“And whatever you two had in the past is gone. So, get out or I’ll have you thrown out.”

She opens her mouth to argue and you take two steps towards her, “I might be pregnant, but I can still do plenty of damage in the minute that it’ll take Thor and Loki to pull me off of you. Please, say something. Please, please I beg you. Give me an excuse. I have a really bad temper and I am dying to express myself. Please.”

Jane turns towards Thor, waiting for some kind of rebuttal from him but he’s got his eyes trained on you and you alone. The shame on his face, the agony of what you finding them all here might mean is not lost on him.

When he doesn’t say anything, Loki clears his throat, “I think it’s time to go, Jane.”

His urging helps and with a look of hurt and disbelief, she tears her eyes off of Thor and stomps out past you.

You watch her go, Estrid scurrying after her to lead her out the back instead of the front where she might be spotted.

“Loki?”

He turns to you, waiting.

“I don’t want anyone to know she was here. Anyone other than the group of palace staff that was standing by the door fucking listening to what was being said in here. Can you get Heimdall and send her home that way?”

“I’m on it,” he assures you and hurries past you, disappearing into the palace.

“I-” Thor begins.

“Don’t!”

He shuts his mouth.

“Not here.”

Turning, you lead the way back to the bedroom and the guard opens the door for you, Thor following closely behind.

As the door shuts you don’t stop until you’re sitting on your bed, hands stroking your belly as you shut your eyes and try to calm yourself.

“I asked you for one thing. One thing, Thor. I asked you not to make a fool of me. Seven people from our staff were listening to you and Jane. Seven! By tomorrow that’ll be twenty and by the weekend the tabloids will have picked up on the story.”

“I’m sorry,” he starts but you growl in frustration.

“I stood in front of our people and told them that Jane Foster was not welcome in our Kingdom and you walked her right in! I-I can’t do this. I can’t do this right now.”

You get up and point at the large doors.

“I need you to get out. I need space and I don’t care why you let her in. I don’t care why you’d make me look like such a stupid fucking joke I only know that you did and I’m done. I need you out. Don’t come looking for me. When I’m ready, if I’m ever ready to talk to you again, I’ll find you. Until then, leave me alone.”

“Cherub-”

“NO! You don’t get to do this shit, Thor-You don’t get to undermine me and bring that woman back into our lives and still get to explain yourself after she lied to you about being pregnant, and making a mockery of our marriage. You don’t get a say. You get out of my room, you keep away from me, you wait until I’m ready to hear you. Until I’m not angry anymore. Until I’m not hurting anymore.

“I don’t understand what it is about this woman that you just-can’t you see what she is? What she’s done? Don’t you understand why she can’t be here? Don’t you get-You know what? Just get out. I don’t care. I don’t care if you get it or not. Get out.”

“Y/N, please, I-”

“GET OUT!”

The silence that follows your outburst is interrupted only by the crackling of the fire. In the dim light, Thor’s face is grave and broken. You can’t feel bad for him though.

As much as you love him, as much as you wish this hadn’t just happened, as much as you hate to see him hurt, you can’t ignore the pain in your own chest, drowning you again in betrayal.

This is why you’d wanted to keep your distance. This agony is why you’d wanted to keep him at arm’s length.

This is why you can only depend on yourself.

Eventually, Thor bows his head and with heavy feet, he leaves your room shutting the door behind him leaving you to sob and throw pillows in anger.

#king!thor x reader #thor x reader #arranged marriage au #royal au #a wife for thor #king!thor x reader fanfic #king!thor x reader fanfiction #king!thor x reader fic #king!thor x you #marvel fanfiction #marvel au #thor x you #a wife for thor pt24

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eclipsedpascal · 3 years

Text

Making Daddy Proud

Stepdad!Duncan x Female Reader

After moving in with your estranged mother and her new husband, Duncan Shepherd, you started to grow very close to your new stepdad. The two of you had a great relationship and he was doing his best to be a good father figure for you, knowing you missed your dad so much. But there was a problem, you found yourself insanely attracted to him and were starting to notice little things indicating he might feel the same way.

Warnings: very inappropriate relationships, Stepfather/stepdaughter relationship, Cheating is ofc implied, 20+ year age gap, daddy kink, unprotected sex (but I kinda imagined the reader to be on birth control so is okie😌) fingering (female receiving), choking, vaginal sex, oral (male receiving) and face fucking😃

Notes: Okie sooo I know some people will hate this fic and ofc I understand that, but if you do hate it then please don't send me any hate!! just don't read it🖤 anywayss I got dis ask saying "Concept: Stepdad Duncan x naive reader😉" nd omg i LOVE the whole concept of Stepdad!Duncan sm, like if you've been in the fandom for a while you'll probably know the fic "The Hand That Robs the Cradle" by Langdonsrapture nd that fic was my holy grail when it came out!! so you know I just had to go all out here nd get carried away writing it hehe:')

word count: 5.4k

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The opportunity to study political science at American University in Washington DC had been one you simply couldn’t pass up on, but unfortunately it meant moving away from your father to stay closer to campus grounds. You knew it was worth it in the long run, I mean you had been waiting on this chance for years and wanted to make your father proud, but you would miss him.

He was never home too much, always busy working, but he meant the world to you. It had been just the two of you for a long time now. Your mother had moved away once their divorce finalised 7 years ago, impulsively leaving you in his custody as she ran off and gallivanted around the world, meeting all sorts of interesting men she would tell you about.

Luckily for you, she had settled down with one of those interesting men in DC recently, and upon discovering your acceptance into the prestigious university she had offered you a place to stay whilst you studied.

It was a frightening move to make, but staying with your mother in DC had actually been pretty interesting. You hadn’t spent time with her in so long and it had been nice to catch up with her, I mean sure she had been a little distant, but that was expected with having not spent any real time with her in so long.

You were just grateful she had let you stay with her in the first place, thinking she would have probably preferred to be left alone with her new husband, Duncan Shepherd.

They had been married about four months when you moved in and from what you could see, things were going well; especially considering she had sprung the engagement on everyone pretty fast. You were just happy knowing she was happy.

Though you had only met the man in question once before moving in, he really seemed like a perfect partner. He didn’t have a single obvious flaw to him, but see that was the problem. He was completely flawless to you.

You had tried to find things you didn’t like about him, even just tiny things, thinking hating him would be far better than thinking of him the way had been, but no matter what you did, you just couldn’t seem to fault him. And the longer you stayed with them, the worse your little problem became.

You weren’t 100% sure of how old he was. You only knew he was in his early to mid forties. But being at least 20 years your senior, you knew he was definitely old enough to be fulfilling the role he was as your stepfather. It felt strange to have a new stepdad at the age of 20, (almost 21) but it was even stranger with you being so blindly attracted to him.

And it wasn’t even just his looks. Though, yes, they were quite the spectacle, it was more than that. He was confident and cocky, always knowing exactly what to do and say to make the people around him do whatever he wanted them to. He could make you laugh until your stomach was in cramps, and not just through telling dad jokes. Charisma rolled off of him in waves.

He was intuitive and crafty; smart to put in plainly. And his interests appeared to be more intellectually based than anything else, which was quite the opposite of your mother, so it baffled you as to how your mother had managed to snatch him up so easily in the first place.

Now it’s not that you were jealous, really. It was more that you didn’t understand how these two polar opposite personality’s had ended up colliding together in the manner that they had.

Whenever the three of you would sit and have an evening meal together, Duncan always made you feel welcomed in the conversation, which was a great comfort to both you and your mother, being the relationship you had was so strained. Because of this and the fact you both had quite a lot in common when it came to your interests, Duncan and you had become almost good friends in the small time that you had been living there.

It was obvious he was doing his best to be some kind of fatherly figure to you. knowing that you were missing your actual dad, he did his best to help you with the things he knew your dad usually would. Whether it was school work or just having someone to joke with from time to time. He was there.

Sometimes when he was there, though, you felt like maybe, just maybe, he felt something more too. Such as the moments where his stares would linger on your form for just a little too long, or the way he would sometimes fix your hair for you if it had strayed across your face the wrong way. Just small things he did that fatherly figures didn’t typically tend to do with their daughters; especially when his wife, your mother, was right there. Sure, she seemed oblivious to it, but you certainly weren’t.

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Taking your now lukewarm cup of coffee from the breakfast bar counter, you brought it to your lips and gulped the bitter liquid down, fighting viciously to stay alert. It was nearing 3am and you had been writing for hours. Concentrating was no longer your most favourable asset and your half lidded eyes were growing wearer by the minute, but you just had to finish this paper.

It was 17 percent of your grade and due in two weeks. A persuasive essay on propaganda within the current American political climate and you had been slowly working at it for weeks, but you knew if you left it hanging over your head any longer it would drive you insane.

Sitting back in the stool you resided on, you took quick solace in the many noises coming from the ajar kitchen window, listening to a low rumble of thunder, accompanied by the constant pitter patter of rain falling from the gloomy DC sky above. It had been hot and humid all week, eventually cultivating into large clouds that had now given in, spilling out showers for almost the entire day past.

You recalled all the time you’d spent by the pool with your mother and Duncan in the past week, enjoying the current heatwave by sunbathing next to it on one of the many loungers. The house was kind of set up like a hotel that way. With Duncan always needing to be prepared for any events he may have to hold for his company’s business associates or press, he had furnished the home with what was to the three of you, unnecessary seating and tableware; amongst other things.

You stirred, returning your eyes back to the last few lines you had written and attempted to go over them in your head, but quickly realised you couldn't even manage that without stumbling over them or jumbling the words up beyond comprehension.

Abruptly interrupting your confused stream of thought, was the kitchen door groaning open. So with a frown plastered to your face, you shot your head up to recognise the intruder. But your frown was quickly blown away at discovering that it was Duncan who had entered the balmy room, and he was in more glory than you had ever seen him.

You had seen his silhouette whilst he showered before. Having gone into his and your mother’s shared bedroom whilst searching for earrings, you had seen him through the whited out, frosted glass of the on-suit bathroom door. But this was something entirely different. This was him, stood in kitchen doorway with nothing on but his grey Calvin Klein boxers.

“Y/N? I didn’t know you were still up.” He quirked a brow at you, wondering why you were still sat in the kitchen so late at night. You swallowed deeply at the sight of him. Your eyes magnetised to his body, dilating with such a sultry image before them. Pulling your eyes back up to his face, you hoped he hadn’t seen their little detour down to his crotch.

“Uhm.. i’m, uh.. w-working on an essay.” Fuck! He’ll definitely know how nervous you are now. You looked away from him, too embarrassed to face him and cringing at your own attempt to speak. “It’s due in next week and I wanted to get it finished.” Okay that’s better, you thought. Maybe he’ll just think you’re just too tired to have a proper conversation or something.

“Oh, right,” he trailed off, looking you up and down a bit as he walked further into the room. You watched the back of his head as he opened the fringe, holding it open and scanning the contents of it. Deciding on a small bottle of water, he retrieved it from the middle shelf before closing the door and walking over to lean on the opposite side of the counter from you.

He didn’t seem too bothered by the fact he was practically undressed in front of you. Of course, you weren't complaining, but it was interesting. You tried to think of something else you could add to your open word document, wanting to distract yourself from his displayed body. But thinking as hard as you possibly could, your mind still brought you nothing.

You awkwardly pulled at the sleeve of your oversized ‘American University” sweater and hoisted it back up onto your shoulder. It had ridden down your arm whilst you were aggressively fiddling with your fingers - a nervous habit you had developed in your early teens. People would often point it out to you, but it was just one of those things you couldn’t stop doing.

There was a deafening silence stuffed between the two of you. So looking around the room, you tried to focus on anything in your line of vision that wasn’t him. It was just too hard seeing him like; his plump lips wrapped around the bottle’s mouth as he drank, his sleepy un-styled curls falling just above his perfectly manicured brows and wearing nothing but those fucking grey boxers. He was making it unbearably hard not to stare.

Deciding to speak, you cleared your throat. “So did you just wake up? Or could you not sleep?”

“Just couldn’t sleep. I kept thinking about the most random shit.. and you know how your mom is, she snores a lot.” He chuckled. His eyes never leaving you, beginning to feel as if they were boring holes into your soul as you kept full eye contact with him.

“Yeah, that must get pretty annoying.” You nodded slowly, thinking about how many nights you had spent wide awake when you were younger, all due to her roaring, loud snores passing through the paper thin walls of your childhood home.

“It does.” A smile played on his lips, taking another swig of water before speaking again. “so what’s the essay about?”

“It’s that one I was telling you about a few weeks ago, if you remember. it’s a persuasive on propaganda within the current American political climate.” You reminded him of the conversation you had about it when he dropped you off to class one morning not too long ago. The two of you often carpooled together, with the University campus being so close to his office, it made for an easy drive on the days he was needed in.

You guys would listen to playlists together on the drive and make fun of each others music taste, that was when you weren’t too busy being amazed by how similar they could be.

“Are you struggling with it? I mean, it is getting pretty late now.” He turned to check the clock which hung on the wall behind him, then looked back at you questioningly.

Duncan was good at helping you with this kind of thing. He was extremely well versed in politics, with his family’s background and all. Your mom had told you he used to be very involved with the white house, saying when he was younger he even went to prison for a short time before president underwood had pardoned him.

“I just can’t concentrate, but I really need to get it done or it’ll stress me out.” You lifted your bare feet up onto the stool seat, your knees coming up to your chest so you could rest your chin on them. You were only wearing panties with the sweater, it being too hot to wear anything more.

“Can I come over and check it?” He closed his bottle of water, tightening the lid with his muscular arms as he spoke. You had almost forgot he wasn’t wearing much before he said this, but watching him screw the bottle cap on as he asked to could come round to your side of the counter? It had you weak for him all over again.

“Uh.. yeah, course.” He padded his bare feet over the white, tiled flooring towards you, placing the bottle down on the counter and moving behind you to read the most recent paragraphs you had written. His hand was stretched over to the other side of you, resting on the edge of the breakfast bar as the skin of his arm grazed across your back.

Even with you being sat on such a tall stool, he still managed to tower over you. His hight was usually intimidating as it was, but with the added factor of him being almost completely undressed it was even worse. A small waft of air blew his expensive cologne towards you, creeping past your nostrils and possessing your senses completely before you started to feel his breathe on your upper neck. It wasn’t heavy, but it was enough to make your cunt start pulsating.

You were disgusted by yourself. He’s your mother’s husband! And your Stepdad! What the fuck was wrong with you? You could only imagine what people’s reactions would be if they knew of the truly sinful thoughts you had about him, and you hated yourself for it.

He was your type, yes. A rich, older man who wasn’t actually an asshole, and they were hard to come by, but that wasn’t relevant. You needed to control yourself. No matter how hard that may be.

“What you have so far is really good. Your argument is strong and as always with your work, it’s written well. You’re smart, Y/N. It’s impressive.” He humoured himself with a scoff, his voice interrupting your lewd thoughts.

You blushed at his compliment, hiding your face behind your knees slightly and looking up at him. “Thanks, Duncan.” You knew he was just trying to be a good dad figure to you, but you couldn’t help being attracted to the way he was so caring for you. Maybe it’s fucked up, but it’s not your fault all you need is an older man’s approval to become turned on.

“I mean it.” He looks so sincere as he talks to you. His face would be intimately close to yours if you hadn’t hidden it from him earlier. You notice his eyes flicker down to your lips for a split second, and then back up to your eyes again. His stare no longer felt friendly, but more.. lustful. Were you crazy or was he really doing this?

Suddenly he looks away from you, moving his eyes back to the laptop’s screen. “Maybe you should just get some sleep. I know you said it’ll stress you out, but if you get some rest you’ll be able to get back into it tomorrow with better concentration.” He does his best to steer the conversation back to where is once was, reminding himself that you’re his fucking step daughter and that he has a beautiful wife sleeping just upstairs.

“I know that, its just..” You sighed, blinking up at him. You brought your legs back down you hang over the edge of the seat, but you couldn’t stop thinking about how close he was to you, wanting to do nothing more than to drape your arms behind his neck an-.

“Nope I won’t listen to it. From what I can see it’s an incredibly strong piece of work already, so just go get some sleep and come back to it in the morning, okay sweetheart?” He laughed a little, looking down at you again.

That nickname. Sweetheart. He called you it all the time and yet it always managed to take your breath away. But the thing is, he usually wasn’t this close to you when he did. So when you squeezed your legs together and bite down on your bottom lip, doing your best to ease the overwhelming desire you felt for him in that moment, there was no way he hadn’t seen it.

You were frozen staring at him, his face static and unreadable. You hoped he didn't choose to shout at you for how repulsive your behaviour was, or maybe he would kick you out? Your mind began spiralling, wrapping itself in intricate knots as you held your breath, awaiting a reply from him.

“Do you like that? When I call you sweetheart.” His voice was deep, sultry and dripping with desire. Shock coursed through you. That was definitely not what you had expected him to say. He seemed even larger now, his confidence making you feel small in comparison as your mind scrabbled to find the words you were supposed to use in your current predicament, but it never found any.

"You like it when daddy gives you nicknames?” He moved his hand up and delicately grasped the skin where your neck met your jaw, his eyes half lidded with lust. Your heart was beating so fast now and your breathing had grown shallow. You were so lost for words, only able to whimper out a weak “yes” before looking down to his boxers, trying to avoid his eyes but still wanting him just as much as he now appeared to want you.

He lifted your chin and kissed you roughly, drinking in your lips as if you were the water he had ventured down stairs for all along; and you began to wonder if you perhaps were. Maybe you were what he had been craving, just as you had been craving him.

He pulled the stool closer to him with his spare hand, leading you to wrap your legs around his torso as you tangled your tiny fingers through his sleep rustled hair. It was passionate. His kiss was sloppy, yet perfectly executed as his tongue slipped past your lips to glide over your own. His greying stubble dug into your skin, burning it with pure contact.

You parted to breath; and for just a moment, though it felt like hours, you stared into each others eyes with a ferociously neither of you could nor wanted to tame.

He tuts. “You really shouldn’t drink so much coffee little one, it’s not good for you. And it’s all I can taste.” He couldn’t help but reprimand you for the little habit, he had just gotten so used to doing it over the past three months, and using it to tease you sounded even more appealing.

You opened your mouth to speak, but were cut off when he lunged at you again, kissing you viciously. He began to move his hands all across your body, his fingertips grazing over every inch of you they possibly could as he started to undress you, pulling your oversized sweater above your head and taking handfuls of your breasts. He was kneading them, leaning down to kiss and suck on them whilst he watched you throw your head back, completely enthralled by him.

You were taken aback by how quick things had escalated, your sense of control had deteriorated far too rapidly and was ebbing away even further with each little kiss he left on your skin.

His large hand slid down to your panties, playing with the lacy bow that was centred on the waist band. He hovered his hand over your heat, cupping it and feeling just how sticky you had become for him. You let out a moan, all sense of wrong and right leaving you completely as you uttered a soft “Daddy” and ground your cunt into the palm of his hand.

“That’s right. So desperate for daddy.” He mused, ripping your thin underwear off and dropping it down onto the floor beneath you. Bringing his face to yours again, your noses bumped and leant on each other for some kind of purchase, the both of you watching his hand as he rubbed his fingers through your folds, gathering a fair amount of slick on them before pressing two inside you.

“Ahh!!” You let out a moan, it was louder than you expected and reminded you of what was really going on here. Having been too caught up in the moment, you hadn’t even thought about how being complete fucking naked with your step father between your legs would look if your mother had decided to come downstairs.

“Ah, ah, shh baby. We don’t wanna get now caught do we?” His breathe was hot on your lips, whispering as to not alert anyone. “So tight.”

You whispered back. “I’m sorry daddy, it was an accident- mmph!” You muffled your moan.

“That’s it. Who’s my good girl?” He lay a gentle peck on you lips, only stopping as to allow you to answer his question.

“I am daddy!! I’m your good girl!” You spoke with urgency, but did your best to keep the volume low, which was quite the struggle in between moans. Duncan could see this, so he pressed your lips together. Kissing you into a muffled silence.

You felt his spare hand on your neck, squeezing it just enough for you to still breathe okay when he pulled away from your mouth, moving his lips to the shell of your ear and biting the lobe. He murmured in your ear. “Do you know how hard it was, this week? Having to sit there next to your mom at the poolside and see you just lying there like that?! That fucking bikini. It took everything in me not to cum right there.”

His fingers were moving slowly, going in deep and curling up against your g spot, making you cry out and lean on his shoulder, biting it to keep yourself quiet. he started to rub your clit in hard circles. He was so experienced. It was mind-blowing.

“Would it have served you more pleasure to know, I only wore it for you?” It was true, you had only worn it for him and it had obviously worked. You certainly had his attention now. He growled at this, pulling his fingers out and slapping your cunt.

He yanked your neck closer to him, speaking down to you. “Just for that? Get on your fucking knees.” As soon as he let go of your throat you were climbing off the stool and onto the floor. The heat of the room, and of your acts too, made the marble tiling feel like ice pressed onto your flushed skin. But you didn't care.

You watched him pull his boxers down, cock springing free, adjacent to his stomach. Never having been with anyone of this size before, you had never seen a cock this big. You reached out and touched it, feeling just how hard he was. He hissed at the contact, looking down at you as you watched his facial expressions with wide eyes.

You played with it in your hand, stroking it with one and palming his balls with the other. He stroked his fingers through your hair, giving you a reassuring look as you licked the tip. The salty taste hit your tongue, making you crave his cock even more. So without another second going to waste, you took him into your mouth as far as you could.

“Ahh fuck!” You began bobbing your head, your eyes fixed on him as a groan left his lips. He was watching you intently, threading his fingers through your hair and onto your scalp to get a good grip on your head. You let your jaw go loose, knowing what he was about to do and preparing yourself for it.

He started thrusting his hips into your face, his cock hitting the back of your throat with almost every shove. You had honestly impressed yourself, I mean you knew you gave good head, but taking a cock this big as it fucked into your throat was something to be proud of.

“Mmm that’s it sweetheart.” Your stomach fluttered at his approval. The gagging noises you were making giving him even more pleasure. “You just wanna make daddy proud, don’t you princess?” You mumbled a wet “yes daddy” around his cock, sending sweet vibrations through it as he pushed himself as far as he could into your throat.

You couldn't even fathom how this was happening. You had pictured this moment late at night with a vibe pressed to your clit far too many times to count, so it finally happening was something hard to comprehend. Somehow he looked even more handsome from down on your knees than you had ever imagined he would. His stubble contouring his face perfectly with the ‘o’ his lips were forming.

Suddenly pulling you off of him, you gasped out for oxygen and tried to wipe away some of the saliva dribbling down your chin. It was like a snapshot from one of Duncan’s wet dreams. You looked so incredibly fucked out. He thought it was beautiful.

“Come on little one, stand up. Daddy wants to fuck that tight little pussy of yours.” You moaned as he talked down to you, stroking his calloused thumb over your bottom lip and pulling it down just to watch it bounce back up again.

You stood up, finally wrapping your arms around his shoulders like you had wanted to all this time. He pulled you in for a kiss, one much slower than the rest, communicating something more to you than just pure sexual carnality. His embrace was comforting, making you feel protected and small in his arms.

His hands grabbed at your ass as he picked you up, sitting you back down onto the bar stool and adjusting the hight while his lips stayed connected to yours. Once the seat was low enough for his liking, he picked up your thighs, shelving them onto his hips and laying you back just enough so that you could lean on the backrest.

The room was sweltering, your body hot against his and anticipating having him buried inside you was getting too much to handle. He dragged his cock through your lips, teasing your clit and moving back down to almost enter you, but he never would. Just wanting to get you all worked up and loving the way you would squirm when he did.

“Daddy.. please.” You steadied yourself by holding on to the sides of the seat, hoping he would end his tournament and fuck you already.

He slid the head barely into you. “Hmm… Since you were so polite, suppose daddy should reward you.” He spoke calmly before snarling and stuffing himself into you, pushing as deeply as he physically could. He felt your walls clamp around him as he set his pace. It was a lot. Having never taken a cock this big and the fact he didn’t even let you adjust, you couldn’t help but wail out.

He shot his hand up to cover your mouth, needing to keep you quiet and seeing you clearly couldn’t do it yourself. “Wouldn’t want to wake up mommy now, would you baby?” you attempted to utter a “No daddy”, but his hand kept your lips glued shut.

He fucked you. Like really really fucked you. He was making the stool shuffle underneath you, the powerfulness of his thrusts causing you to slide down in the seat. The only reason you didn’t slip off completely being the barbarian hold he had on your hips.

It actually surprised you how rough he was. A pleasant surprise, of course, but he had been so delicately caring towards you since becoming your step father and now here you were, receiving the best of both worlds.

The closer you grew to your high, the more incoherent your thoughts became. His eyebrows were scrunched together, lips trembling as he picked you up off the seat and held you closer to him. Supporting your ass, his hips ricocheted up and off yours as he tried desperately not to yell out.

His thumb was brought back down to your clit as he pressed you up against him, swiping at it hellishly, trying to hurry up your release upon feeling your legs begin to quiver; and knowing his own was approaching rapidly.

“That’s it sweetheart, come around daddy’s cock… Gonna cum so fucking deep inside your cunt. Would you like that?” You could see a thin line of perspiration cascading down his cheekbone, he was almost breathless and his thrusts were messier now.

“Yes da-AHH!“ you whipped a hand up to your face, holding your mouth shut as you came. You dug the hand you had placed on his shoulder deep into his skin and was quickly reminded of his marriage to your mother. You hoped you hadn't left any nail indents she might see.

You felt his hot seed spurt onto your walls as he rested his head on yours, mouth open wide and letting out a silent groan. His release was long and powerful. The both of you were left panting, the only noise in the room being your own breaths and a small creak from the stool when he softly set you down onto it.

He pulled out, your mixed juices gushing out of you along with the sexual haze you had been overcome with. The severity of what you had just done began to settle in. His head still resting on yours as you started freaking out, contemplating what would happen if your mother was to ever find out what had just occurred.

You wrapped your arms around his back, needing his comfort and squeezing him in an urgent hug, which he returned. his fingers stroked the sweaty skin of your back, trying to ease the thoughts he too had running through his mind. He lifted your chin up, the look he had in his eyes telling you everything would be okay.

Kissing you cautiously, he savoured the feeling of your lips on his and prayed he would get a chance to feel them again. “Are you okay?” He whispered

You didn’t really know if you were. On one hand, that was something you had wanted for a long time and it had been far better than you ever imagined, but on the other you had just helped your stepfather cheat on your mother. “I don’t know. I think so.”

He stood up, grabbing your sweater and panties, handing them to you before putting his boxers back on. “Well, at least that paper won’t seem like such big problem now.” He chuckled, doing his best to find humour in a humourless situation.

You giggled a little, hurrying to throw on your sweater and being reminded of how he had ruined your panties. “True. Now this can hang over my head instead.” You wiped any left over salvia you had on your face onto your sleeve and thought about how you would probably need to shower after this. “At least the sex was worth it, right?”

He sent you a dark smirk, picking up his bottle of water and walking towards the kitchen door. “It was. hopefully it'll be just as good next time too.” You opened your mouth, faking shock at his confidence as you watched him open the door.

“Goodnight Y/N” He gave you one last look as he sauntered through the door, getting ready to close it behind him and leave you alone in the kitchen with no one but your thoughts. The thoughts of your acts. Remembering all the little moments you had just shared together.

In that last moment before he left, you struck eye contact with him, chewing your inner lip and speaking.

“Goodnight, daddy.”

●●●●●●●●

Thank you sm for reading!🥺🖤

Tags: @dark-mei-rose @sojournmichael @ntxoza @blakescoven @ghostangels @jimmason @fernfiction @brattylovee @7-wonders @angelicmichael @melodylangdon @instincts-baby i'm so so sorry if you don't like this kinda fic or it has triggered you in anyway, but just let me know if it has and I won't tag you in this kind of thing ever again! You can also let me know if you wanna be added to the tag list too:)

#Duncan Shepherd #Duncan Shepherd x reader #Duncan Shepherd fic #Duncan Shepherd smut #Stepdad!Duncan #Stepdad!Duncan Shepherd #Stepdad!Duncan Shepherd x reader #Cody fern #Cody fern fic #Daddy Duncan #my writing

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st-just · 3 years

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Hey, Cuba-anon again with a slightly different question. Less about Cuba, more about foreign policy and ethics in general. I am interested to know what you think about Nationalism and it’s place in the modern world. How should one view their relationship to their country versus their relationship to the global community?

To give my point of view, I think I am a pragmatic nationalist? I am not gung-ho about America because “it is the best nation ever and the president is never wrong, uwu”, but rather because I live here, my parents and grandparents live here, and if something in the world negatively impacts America it will by extension negatively impact me. I don’t think other countries are beneath me or anything, but I also know that the feeling is not always reciprocal. So, to me, putting the well being of Americans first and everything else second is similar to putting on your air mask first before helping others in the event of a plane crash.

Either way, would love to hear your point of view and see how others tackle the question.

(sorry for the delay in response, got halfway through writing this then saved it to drafts and completely blanked on it)

But okay, interesting question, and worth breaking down.

So, you know how through the '90s and early 2000's there was this just utterly overpowering narrative where the last chapter of every history textbook ended with a chapter about how national borders were less and less important and how through the magic of The Internet young people were more connected and cosmopolitan than ever, with the strong implication that the weight of history was pulling us inevitably towards a post-national utopia of frictionless exchange and understanding. Call it the Star Trek ideal.

Hasn't exactly worked out, of course. And to a large degree was bullshit even at the time (or the optimism of academics expecting all of humanity to think like they do, being charitable). But in my heart of hearts, that's still how I think things should work.

But okay, to get a bit less abstract, a bunch of barely connected thoughts-

- Nation-states (and states generally) are, at best, convenient administrative divisions of humanity. They have no value outside the services they provide to their residents, and certainly no rights or moral worth outside that. America doesn't deserve your loyalty or life anymore than the state of Ohio or city of Baltimore do (replace with wherever you live.)

-If you accept the basic idea of humans having equal moral worth (or anywhere close to it), then the entire idea that someone's entire life should be defined by what side of an imaginary line on a map they were born on seems obviously absurd as soon as you start thinking about it?

-Nations - in terms of borders, whose included, what characteristics are 'national', etc - are also both contingent and a great extent artificial, defined by state and cultural elites via a standardized language, a mythologized national history, patriotic holidays, nationalizing and creating traditions and rituals, national education and entertainment, etc, etc. There's nothing primordial or inherent there.

-Unfortunately, people really, really like having teams to identify with, and like excluding people from those teams and/or treating them like shit for not belonging to them even more. (People talk a lot about x or y horrible thing being fundamental to human nature, but I really think this is one of the places where human nature really lets us down.)

-Nationalism is an extremely easy and powerful way of dividing the world between us and them, and across the world there has been massive success using it as a locus for identity formation and to organize populations around basically every sort of project imaginable, from funding public education and welfare to genocide.

-Nationalism is, as mentioned, inherently exclusive - and no matter what it's proponents say, in practice there's always someone within the borders of the nation who doesn't quite fit (in the European context, Romani and Jewish people are the most obvious examples). Cases where the nationalist imagination doesn't perfectly overlap with state borders, or with the identity of some subset of the 'national' population also tends to go, uh, badly.

-However, within the national population, appeals to national solidarity or theoretically shared ideals can often be (to a limited degree) useful in transcending or working to ameliorate regional, ethnic, class, etc divides.

-While it's true that large chunks of the American (Canadian, British, French, Japanese, etc) populace benefit quite a bit from their position in the current international system, it's almost universally the case that what foreign policy elites consider 'the national interest' extends far, far, far beyond anything that provides concrete benefits to the average citizen - I'll just gesture vaguely towards Afghanistan, here. Or World War 1 - and quite a lot of death and misery is inflicted for the sake of a narrow slice of the elite's material interests and entirely meaningless concerns around national glory and prestige.

-To be frank, in specifically America's case, putting the interests of co-nationals first and everyone else second is less putting your own air mask on first and more launching a life boat at half capacity to make sure you have leg room.

-But, again, the fruits of pursuing the national interest really, really aren't evenly spread. Does the US government's tireless and vicious championing of stringent IP laws, regardless of how many needless deaths result from the constraints on the drug supply they create, really do much for the average American?

-Which, to go back to the air mask analogy, brings up the awkward point that very often it's not so much putting your own mask on first as tearing the masks off people around you so you have extras, just in case. How much less is the life of someone on the wrong side of the border worth? Half as much? A tenth? A thousandth? The pursuit of America's national security and national interests has a death toll well into the millions.

-Honestly, even if you don't care at all about foreigners, in terms of domestic policy it's just a useful heuristic to instinctively distrust anyone who relies too much on nationalist rhetoric to justify themselves. I mean, the music's almost always bad and anyone who actually gets invested in the symbolism of their flag is reliably a complete killjoy, but even beyond that - they're just very reliably the worst people. This is admittedly unkind and not always true. But, well, see that quote about patriotism being the last refuge of the scoundrel, which applies wonderfully to both people and organizations. If someone's trying to sell something by wrapping it in the flag, that usually means they don't want you looking too closely.

-Viewing the world through a nationalist framework and caring about zero-sum issues of national prestige also make it incredibly hard to coordinate around issues that don't care about national borders, or are going to disproportionately hurt people without rich and powerful nation-states defending their interests. Like, I don't know, global pandemics. Or climate change.

-Anyway, in conclusion, borders bad, nationalism bad, and also any officially codified 'Patriotic' culture is instantly cringe. Hopefully some of this makes sense.

#reply #anon #in this essay i will #this is theoretically a writing blog #nationalism #political theory

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meirmakesstuff · 3 years

Note

1/2 Hi Meir! I saw your answer on WWC, and since you mentioned you're professionals, I figured I'd ask directly: I'm writing a second world fantasy with a jewish coded people. I want to be clear in the coding but avoid the "if there's no egypt, how can there be passover?" so I called them Canaanites. I thought I was being clever by hinting in the naming that the whole region does exist, but I've since read that it might've been a slur in fact? Do you have any advice on this?

2/2 I did consider calling the group in question Jewish, but aside from how deeply Judaism is connected to the history of the Israelites, I haven't used any present-day real-world names for any other group, (I did use some historic names like Nubia). I feel like calling only one group of people by their currently used name would be othering rather than inclusive? Or am I overthinking this?

Okay so I want to start out with some disclaimers, first that although WWC recently reblogged an addition of mine to one of their posts, I am not affiliated with @writingwithcolor, and second that the nature of trying to answer a question like this is “two Jews, three opinions,” so what I have to say about this is my own opinion(s) only. Last disclaimer: this is a hard question to address, so this answer is going to be long. Buckle up.

First, I would say that you’re right to not label the group in question “Jewish” (I’ll get to the exception eventually), and you’re also right in realizing that you should not call them “Canaanites.” In Jewish scripture, Canaanites are the people we fought against, not ourselves, so that wouldn’t feel like representation but like assigning our identity to someone else, which is a particular kind of historical violence Jews continue to experience today. I’ll get back to the specific question of naming in a moment, but because this is my blog and not WWC, and you asked me to speak to this as an educator, we’re going to take a detour into Jewish history and literary structure before we get back to the question you actually asked.

To my mind there are three main ways to have Jews in second-world fantasy and they are:

People who practice in ways similar to modern real-world Jews, despite having developed in a different universe,

People who practice in ways similar to ancient Hebrews, because the things that changed us to modern Jewish practice didn’t occur, and

People who practice in a way that shows how your world would influence the development of a people who started out practicing like ancient Hebrews and have developed according to the world they’re in.

The first one is what we see in @shiraglassman‘s Mangoverse series: there is no Egypt yet her characters hold a seder; the country coded Persian seems to bear no relation to their observance of Purim, and there is no indication of exile or diaspora in the fact that Jews exist in multiple countries and cultures, and speak multiple languages including Yiddish, a language that developed through a mixture of Hebrew and German. Her characters’ observance lines up approximately with contemporary Reform Jewish expectations, without the indication of there ever having been a different practice to branch off from. She ignores the entire question of how Jews in her universe became what they are, and her books are lyrical and sweet and allow us to imagine the confidence that could belong to a Jewish people who weren’t always afraid.

Shira is able to pull this off, frankly, because her books are not lore-heavy. I say this without disrespect--Shira often refers to them as “fluffy”--but because the deeper you get into the background of your world and its development, the trickier this is going to be to justify, unless you’re just going to just parallel every historical development in Jewish History, including exile and diaspora across the various nations of your world, including occasional near-equal treatment and frequent persecution, infused with a longing for a homeland lost, or a homeland recently re-established in the absolutely most disappointing of ways.

Without that loss of homeland or a Mangoverse-style handwaving, we have the second and third options. In the second option, you could show your Jewish-coded culture having never been exiled from its homeland, living divided into tribes each with their own territory, still practicing animal, grain, and oil sacrifice at a single central Temple at the center of their nation, overseen by a tribe that lacks territory of their own and being supported by the sacrifices offered by the populace.

If you’re going to do that, research it very carefully. A lot of information about this period is drawn from scriptural and post-scriptural sources or from archaeological record, but there’s also a lot of Christian nonsense out there assigning weird meanings and motivations to it, because the Christian Bible takes place during this period and they chose to cast our practices from this time as evil and corrupt in order to magnify the goodness of their main character. In any portrayal of a Jewish-coded people it’s important to avoid making them corrupt, greedy, bigoted, bloodthirsty, or stubbornly unwilling to see some kind of greater or kinder truth about the world, but especially if you go with this version.

The last option, my favorite but possibly the hardest to do, is to imagine how the people in the second option would develop given the influences of the world they’re in. Do you know why Chanukah is referred to as a “minor” holiday? The major holidays are the ones for which the Torah specifies that we “do not work:” Rosh Hashannah, Yom Kippur, and the pilgrimage holidays of Sukkot, Passover, and Shavuot. Chanukah developed as a holiday because the central temple, the one we made those pilgrimages to, was desecrated by the invading Assyrian Greeks and we drove them out and were able to re-establish the temple. That time. Eventually, the Temple was razed and we were scattered across the Roman Empire, developing the distinct Jewish cultures we see today. The Greeks and Romans aren’t a semi-mythologized ancient people, the way the Canaanites have been (though there’s increasing amounts of archaeology shedding light on what they actually might have been like), we have historical records about them, from them. The majority of modern Jewish practice developed from the ruins of our ancient practices later than the first century CE. In the timeline of Jewish identity, that’s modern.

The rabbinic period and the Temple period overlap somewhat, but we’re not getting into a full-scale history lesson here. Suffice it to say that it was following the loss of the sacrificial system at the central Temple that Judaism coalesced an identity around verbal prayer services offered at the times of day when we would previously have offered sacrifices, led each community by its own learned individual who became known as a rabbi. We continued to develop in relationship with the rest of the world, making steps toward gender equality in the 1970s and LGBT equality in the 2000s, shifting the meaning of holidays like Tu Bishvat to address climate change, debating rulings on whether one may drive a car on Shabbat for the sake of being with one’s community, and then pivoting to holding prayer services daily via Zoom.

The history of the Jews is the history of the world. Our iconic Kol Nidrei prayer, the centerpiece of the holiest day of the year, that reduces us to tears every year at its first words, was composed in response to the Spanish Inquisition. The two commentators who inform our understanding of scripture--the ones we couldn’t discuss Torah without referencing even if we tried--wrote in the 11th and 12th centuries in France and Spain/Egypt. Jewish theology and practice schismed into Orthodox and Reform (and later many others) because that’s the kind of discussion people were into in the 19th century. Sephardim light Chanukah candles in an outdoor lamp while Ashkenazim light Chanukah candles in an indoor candelabrum because Sephardim developed their traditions in the Middle East and North Africa and the Ashkenazim developed our traditions in freezing Europe. There are works currently becoming codified into liturgy whose writers died in 2000 and 2011.

So what are the historical events that would change how your Jewish-coded culture practices, if they don’t involve loss of homeland and cultural unity? What major events have affected your world? If there was an exile that precipitated an abandonment of the sacrificial system, was there a return to their land, or are they still scattered? Priority one for us historically has been maintaining our identity and priority two maintaining our practices, so what have they had to shift or create in order to keep being a distinct group? Is there a major worldwide event in your world? If so, how did this people cope?

If you do go this route, be careful not to fall into tropes of modern or historical antisemitism: don’t have your culture adopt a worldview that has their deity split into mlutiple identities (especially not three). Don’t have an oppressive government that doesn’t represent its people rise up to oppress outsiders within its borders (this is not the first time this has occurred in reality, but because the outside world reacts differently to this political phenomenon when it’s us than when it’s anyone else, it’s a portrayal that makes real-life Jews more vulnerable). And don’t portray the people as having developed into a dark and mysterious cult of ugly, law-citing men and beautiful tearstreaked women, but it doesn’t sound as if you were planning to go there.

So with all that said, it’s time to get back to the question of names. All the above information builds to this: how you name this culture depends on how you’ve handled their practice and identity.

Part of why Shira Glassman’s handwaving of the question of how modern Jewish practice ended up in Perach works is that she never gives a name to the religion of her characters. Instead, she names the regions they come from. Perach, in particular, the country where most of the action takes place, translates to “Flower.” In this case, her Jewish-coded characters who come from Perach are Perachis, and characters from other places who are also Jewish are described as “they worship as Perachis do despite their different language” or something along those lines (forgive me, Shira, for half-remembering).

So that’s method one: find an attribute of your country that you’d like to highlight, translate it into actual Hebrew, and use that as your name.

Method two is the opposite: find a name that’s been used to identify our people or places (we’ve had a bunch), find out what it means or might mean in English, and then jiggle that around until it sounds right for your setting. You could end up with the nation of the Godfighters, or Children of Praise, The Wanderers (if they’re not localized in a homeland), The Passed-Over, Those From Across The River, or perhaps the people of the City of Peace.

Last, and possibly easiest, pick a physical attribute of their territory and just call them that in English. Are they from a mountainous region? Now they’re the Mountain People. Does their land have a big magical crater in the middle? Craterfolk. Ethereal floating forests of twinkling lights? It’s your world.

The second option is the only one that uses the name to overtly establish Jewish coding. The first option is something Jews might pick up on, especially if they speak Hebrew, but non-Jews would miss. The third avoids the question and puts the weight of conveying that you’re trying to code them as Jewish on their habits and actions.

There’s one other option that can work in certain types of second-world fantasy, and that’s a world that has developed from real-world individuals who went through some kind of portal. That seems to me the only situation in which using a real-world name like Jews, Hebrews, or Israelites would make sense. Jim Butcher does this with the Romans in the Codex Alera series, and Katharine Kerr does it with Celts in the Deverry cycle. That kind of thing has to be baked into the world-building, though, so it probably doesn’t help with this particular situation.

This is a roundabout route to what I imagine you were hoping would be an easier answer. The tension you identified about how to incorporate Jewishness into a world that doesn’t have the same history is real, and was the topic of a discussion I recently held with a high school age group around issues of Jewish representation in the media they consume and hope to create. Good luck in your work of adding to the discussion.

#Ask #kermab #Meir Makes Stuff #Writing #jewish representation #Fantasy Writing #fantasy fiction #Mangoverse #Meir Makes Long Posts

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bffsoobin · 4 years

Text

Love Love

↳beomgyu could be a tough puzzle to solve. You knew that. You knew everything about him. That’s what best friends are for, after all. But why is he so upset over your date with Taehyun?

➤ best friends to lovers, highschool au, fluff, a little bit of angst (jealousy)

Requested?: yes

Word Count: 3,779

A/N: I attempted humor here, hopefully that translated? Also I hope the turning point is good enough shdksnoeun. I rewrote it a lot to try and fit what the request asked for. As always, heed the general warning that I haven’t proof read or edited this. Also I’m tagging the biggest Beomgyu stan I know, the lovely @star-daegyu as they requested!💕

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•

“What?” Beomgyu sounded scandalized as you shut the door to your locker.

“You heard me! Don’t make me say it again,” you clutched at the chemistry textbook cradled in your arms. Beomgyu stared down at you with an intensity you hadn’t seen since Mr.Jackson showed a documentary about how climate change was fake. You started walking away but he came with you in perfect lockstep.

“No, say it again. I’m trying to see if my neurons misfired or if you actually just told me that-” he gagged dramatically as the two of you rounded the corner into a different hallway.

“Remind me again why I put up with you?” You grumbled cynically.

“Remind me why you won’t repeat what you just told me at your locker?” Beomgyu wrapped his hands around the straps of his bookbag and stared at you indignantly. Your sneakers squeaked against the tile flooring of your classroom as you entered with Beomgyu in tow. The two of you were always the first students in class after your lunch period and today you had even beaten the teacher. Beomgyu looked around at the empty room and gestured around with his arms spread wide.

“Last chance to tell me before this room starts filling up with our drama hungry classmates!” Before you had thought he was just teasing you to get a rise, but now you could sense an undercurrent of something odd. Jealousy?

“Fine,” you grumbled halfheartedly. “Taehyun asked me out.” You knew that your skin was flushed red as a side effect of the confession. Beomgyu nodded tightly before taking a dramatic lap around the classroom. Once he was back by your side, he plopped down in his desk next to you.

“And you said yes?” He had finally lowered his voice as a throng of classmates filtered through the door. Your heart beat kicked up a notch as you tried to pick apart his tone. You couldn’t help but feel an odd pang in your chest at the idea that he might be jealous that someone else got to you first. You dismissed that quickly; as there was no way you would let yourself fall back into that pining when Taehyun was right in front of you and willing to give you romantic attention.

“Of course I said yes, you know I have a crush on him! Why are you being so weird about this?” you hissed underneath your breath as the room filled steadily with even more post-lunch chatter. Beomgyu’s lips were pulled in an unsettling straight line as he simply nodded at your words. A knot twisted up in your stomach at the thought of your bestfriend being angry over something he knew you were excited about. As your teacher began to talk, the only thing you could focus on was Beomgyu. He was sitting oddly still, carefully angling his body away from you so much that you couldn’t even attempt to read the expression on his face. Of course you were worried; but more than anything you were annoyed as hell. You were used to his dramatics and occasional fits, but this sudden change to childish behavior was totally new and frankly unwarranted. If it weren’t for Mrs. Nielsen’s strict note taking policy you would have put much more effort into telling Beomgyu off during the class period.

The class period passed quickly although the cramp in your hand would surely stick around to be sure you wouldn’t forget about all of the chemistry notes you had taken. Beomgyu remained elusive as the two of you packed up and your pride kept you from asking him if he was okay. He made sure that you couldn’t catch a glimpse of more than just his clothed back as he slung his bookbag back on. Without a word, Beomgyu stood and breezed out of the classroom door. You left the room without him by your side for the first time since you became friends in the 8th grade. A pang of sadness shot through your heart at the realization that you must have done something to really upset him. What had you done to upset him so much that he wouldn’t even say goodbye to you?

Beomgyu wasn’t in your next class with you, but it didn’t stop you from letting thoughts of him totally occupy your mind. It was a twisted type of torture, really, to try and pick apart any of the reasons he would have reacted so horribly to what you saw as a happy moment. You never wanted Beomgyu to be angry with you, and quite frankly you couldn’t even think of the last time the two of you had had a serious fight. Sure, there had been small quarrels over what movie to watch or who got a homework question right, but never anything like this. He’s friends with Taehyun. He was even the one to introduce the two of you at a bonfire over the summer. Was he worried that your new relationship would put a wedge between the two of you? Certainly you could conceptualize that he was worried about having to pick sides after a fight or breakup.

In favor of actually processing some of what your math teacher was currently sprawling on the whiteboard, you decided that you had cracked the code of Beomgyu’s anger. You would confront him on the drive home as soon as the class ended. You would make things right.

As the final bell of the day rang, you rushed to the only working vending machine on the floor and bought a bag of Beomgyu’s favorite candy to use as a peace offering. As you waited in front of the library- as per your daily routine- your heart jumped in your throat at the thought that Beomgyu might not meet up with you. He could very easily charm his way into getting a ride from one of your many classmates just to avoid you some more. The thought brought you to the verge of tears. You couldn’t imagine your life without Beomgyu as your best friend and absolute rock. There was no way you could even deal with him being angry at you when you were ready to apologize. The lump in your throat only widened the longer you waited, shifting from foot to foot as students milled out of the building. You considered texting him but knowing how lazy he could be about answering had you abandoning the idea just as fast.

Finally, you spotted Beomgyu as he breezed through a group of freshmen girls who gawked at him as he passed through. He looked a bit panicked as he approached you, eyes roaming all around the area until he finally spotted you and rushed over.

“Y/N!” He sounded a bit out of breath, which surprised you. “I was worried you were going to leave without me.”

“Of course not, Gyu. I was worried you would pawn someone else into driving you home. I really want to talk to you about earlier,” you paused for a second as the two of you began walking towards the exit. “I got you these, though,” you offered him the bright yellow bag and without even looking his way you could see the smile on his face.

“Do we really have to talk about earlier?” Beomgyu asked through a mouthful of candy. You unlocked your car and threw your backpack into the back seat as he climbed into the passenger seat as if he owned it. Which you guessed he technically did. You fixed him with a glare you knew read as one of annoyance. “I’m over it, I promise,” he pouted, jutting out his bottom lip in a way that would usually make you break. But not today. This was important.

“Yes, we really have to talk about earlier,” you closed the driver’s side door and buckled up as Beomgyu reluctantly clicked his own seat belt into place. With the car in motion, you were grateful for having a valid reason you couldn’t look at him just to see more of his pouting expressions. The radio played a pop song you had heard dozens of times but you and Beomgyu sang along anyway. Admittedly, neither of you were too excited to breach the subject at hand so the distraction was more than welcome. The short ride from the school to your neighborhood was usually seen as a blessing, but not with the looming conversation you were suddenly faced with.

“Okay. This is awkward. I’m gonna go,” Beomgyu chirped, leaning down to scoop up his bookbag from the floor of the car. As soon as his hand grasped the handle of the door, you pressed the lock button. He scoffed. “You can’t be serious, Y/N. Locking me in the car?” You expected him to be pouting, but instead he just looked tired. You huffed out a breath of air.

“Yes, Gyu. I’m locking you in the car so that you can’t run away from me when I’m trying to be serious. I’m not mad at you for being angry earlier. I mean- I was- and then I thought about it and I figured out why you were so upset,” Beomgyu’s face morphed into something close to fear and he opened his mouth to speak. “You don’t want to be caught between Taehyun and I if we date and get in a fight or breakup. I didn’t really think about the fact that you’re also friends with him. I can’t imagine how awkward you must feel about it,” you continued despite his desire to talk. You swallowed hard. “But you need to understand that even though you might feel weird, I still really like him and while I love and value your opinion I’m still going to go out with him.” Beomgyu seemed a little stunned but he nodded anyway.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he pushed his hair away from his forehead, “I’m sorry for getting so upset earlier, but I just don’t want to see you get hurt. I’ve known Taehyun for a while but I’ve known you for even longer and the last thing I want to see is you falling apart because of anything he does.” Your mouth suddenly felt dry.

“What do you mean? Is there something I should be worried about?” You had a feeling that Beomgyu had accidentally let part of his last sentence slip and was now trying to pick up the pieces.

“No! No, Taehyun is great. He’s...he’s a good guy. I was just trying to say that,” he took a deep, shaky breath, “that I don’t know what I would do if you ever came to me hurt over a boy. Any boy. I just love you so much.” He seemed oddly vulnerable even though he had told you that exact phrase so many times before. You hoped he didn’t notice the way your breath stuttered upon hearing him say it so emphatically. There was no way he could know the effect his words had on you. His softened eyes locked onto yours at the feeling of your hand on his shoulder.

“I love you too, Gyu. And I promise you won’t have to be dealing with anything like that. I can handle myself. Now please don’t be so awkward tomorrow. We have a lab and I’d rather not spend the whole period forcing you to speak to me.” Beomgyu’s eyes crinkled into a smile and he reached over to pinch your cheek between his fingers.

“Stoppppp,” you whined loudly, pushing his hand away from you with all of your might. When he finally let go you cupped your cheek in feined upset. “I bought you candy and this is how you repay me?” The sound of the passenger car door unlocking prompted Beomgyu to open the door and hop out into his driveway.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I’ll bring you coffee tomorrow morning to make up for it.” He was bounding up the steps to his house before you could even come up with a witty response, but you drove away with a lightened heart.

----

Your first date with Taehyun took place on a warm Saturday night. He took you stargazing in a field you didn’t even know existed and somehow came up with a playlist full of your favorite music. It was such a perfect night that you even dreamed of it when you crawled into bed later in the evening.

The next day, you practically ran down the street to Beomgyu’s house to spill all of the details. You greeted his parents and easily bounded into the comfort of his bedroom like you had hundreds of times before. He was still sprawled out under his comforter, hair laying in a mess around him when you busted in.

“You’ll never guess how well yesterday went!” you threw yourself next to him on the bed and bounced him slightly. He groaned and finally sat up.

“Oh, that good, huh?” His voice was still heavy with sleep as he pushed a hand through his unruly hair.

“Yes! He picked me up kind of late and I was worried he was going to take me to a movie, which is-”

“The worst first date,” Beomgyu finished for you as he slid out from under his comforter and stretched his limbs.

“Right. But instead he took me to this field I didn’t even know was a thing around here, and he brought snacks and a blanket and we stargazed!” Beomgyu nodded along to your words as he shuffled toward his door.

“I have to pee, I’ll be back and you can keep filling me in,” you pouted a bit at his interruption of your rambling but knew just how small and insistent his bladder could be. He had missed his fair share of plot twists in movies due to chugging his entire slushie during the previews. You watched him leave and mentally kicked yourself for fawning over the way a strand of his hair seemed to be stuck permanently straight upwards. It was time for you to focus on Taehyun, not Beomgyu. He was just your best friend.

He returned promptly, still rubbing sleep out of his eyes in a way that made you coo at him. He cringed in return and plopped back down on his bed. “Continue telling me about Wonder Boy,” he droned. You frowned.

“You seem like you don’t want to hear about it, Gyu. Are you okay?” He was quiet for a moment.

“Just peachy,” despite the edge in his voice you continued, thinking maybe he was just grumpy this morning.

“Somehow he made the perfect playlist. I’m talking all of my favorite songs. It totally surprised me. We never even talked about music. I really want to know how he knew it all,” you sighed dramatically and missed the way Beomgyu rolled his eyes. After a few more seconds of silence, you felt the need to talk again.

“Are you sure you’re alright? I feel like you’re mad about...something,” you couldn’t quite place it but you knew that something was off with him.

“I’m sure. Just hungry.” He offered as he stood and headed for his door once again. Out of instinct you followed him to his kitchen and downed a bowl of cinnamon cereal in a comfortable quiet.

“We should watch some movies off of our list today,” you offered as you washed out your cereal bowls. Beomgyu gave you the first genuine smile of the morning as he agreed and rushed back to his room to turn on his television and retrieve the ever growing list from his desk drawer. When you met him in his room he was already cuddled up in his blankets with the movie queued.

“Come on, slow poke!” You couldn’t hold back a giggle at how adorable he looked all nestled in like a newborn baby as you slid in right next to him and laid your head on his chest. The movie he had picked was entertaining enough, but certainly catered more to Beomgyu’s tastes than yours. For the sake of being the wonderful best friend you knew you were, you tried your best to focus on it. At some point you lost track of which character was which and gave up on actively following.

Your phone vibrated three times in a row and you decided that since you were already lost, there would be no harm in seeing who was texting you. Your heart rate increased twofold as you read Taehyun’s name. Your thumbs hovered over the screen as you tried to figure out how to respond quickly. While there were no strict rules for your movie watching adventure, you knew that Beomgyu would get whiny quickly about phone usage.

Unfortunately, your neurons weren’t firing fast enough for Beomgyu’s liking.

“Y/N,” he whined, “Can you put your phone away? Who are you even texting?” You could feel him craning his neck to see your screen before noticeably freezing under you.

“Of course,” he mumbled, darkness edging back into his tone. You sighed and sat up off of him and fixed him with what you hoped was a convincing glare.

“Of course what? I’m sorry he texted me, but why are you so angry over him? There’s something you aren’t telling me. Just come out with it already! I thought we were past your pouting over Taehyun and I!” Beomgyu’s jaw tightened at your words.

“No, Y/N. We’re not past it. I’m not over the fact that you’re doting over him when he didn’t even plan your date!” Your eyes widened in confusion.

“Of course he planned the date. Don’t be ridiculous,” you waved him off, shaking your head in disbelief of how childish he was being. Beomgyu sat straight up and reached for his phone from his bedside stand.

“Fine, look. Here’s the proof,” he shoved his phone into your hands, “He wanted to take you to a movie. I told him that was an awful idea,” you read along the messages as he spoke and saw that he was telling the truth. “And so I gave him the stargazing idea, because you once told me that would be your ideal date.” You knew he was right. You could recall the game of truth or dare where you told him that.

“Beomgyu,” you breathed, “I told you that two years ago.” Your heart swelled with a sort of pride you didn’t know you were capable of. Beomgyu was unable to hold back the shy smile that cracked onto his face. He cleared his throat loudly.

“And I had to tell him what snacks to get, and the music… that’s my playlist for you,” his voice was much more timid than you had ever heard it. “So I planned the date. I was so jealous that he asked you out, and even more so that you said yes. And then he texted me and had to get my advice and I felt even dumber. I’ve been dying to tell you the truth but you were so happy.” Beomgyu heaved a sigh and clenched his fists. “He took you on the date I’ve wanted to take you on since the day we met. And then you came here and you’ve spent all morning talking about how great it was,” he raked his fingers through his hair, “I can’t keep pretending that I haven’t been burning up inside since you told me you said yes to him.”

Beomgyu’s eyes were shaking just as much as his hands when you placed his phone back into them.

“You’re unbelievable,” your words were slipping out before you had time to filter them, “I can’t believe you didn’t just tell me that you liked me. I’ve spent years trying to drown my feelings for you so that our friendship would stay intact and you’re telling me you’ve been in love with me?”

Beomgyu choked on his own spit. “Wait, you have feelings for me too?” You stared at him with your mouth hanging wide open for a few seconds.

“Well I-” you sputtered, “I’ve always kind of…” he raised an eyebrow at you, “Okay, yes! Yes I have feelings for you. I love you too. Love love,” you threw your hands up in defeat as Beomgyu started to laugh deeply. You gasped at him.

“Why are you laughing? I just confessed to you and you’re laughing? You know what, I’m gonna go.” Both of you knew your words held no weight but Beomgyu grabbed you by the wrist to stop you anyway.

“Nope, too late,” he pulled your body back towards his until you were sitting cross legged right next to him. “I’m laughing,” he began as he laced his fingers with yours, “because it's so stupidly like us to take five years and a third party to get us to confess our feelings.” You knew he was right. The absurdity of the situation just felt like another chapter in your book of blissfully clueless friendship.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked sweetly.

“Did you brush your teeth?” You were half teasing and half serious, “I’m not remembering our first kiss as the time you forgot to brush.” Beomgyu pinched your side in retaliation until you surrendered.

“Of course I brushed, Y/N. I’m not a heathen,” you could tell by his tone that he was bordering on being actually offended. “Now can I please kiss you?” You hummed thoughtfully and inched your face closer to his.

“Since you asked so nicely.” His mouth descended on yours and you discovered that yes, he actually did brush his teeth. The thought made you smile as the two of you pressed your lips impossibly closer until they were red and swollen. You felt a little dazed at the idea that you had just kissed Choi Beomgyu, best friend and secret crush of five years. He leaned in again and you closed your eyes, thinking he was going in for another kiss. Instead you felt a rush of warm air against your skin as he laughed.

“You’re already ready for our second kiss?” He teased as you finally opened your eyes. “I was just reaching behind you for your phone,” he waved the object in front of your face. “We have to come up with a text to let Taehyun down easy.” The sparkle in his eyes told you he was getting way too much entertainment out of the idea.

“You’re the worst, Beomgyu,” you crossed your arms across your chest in defense.

“But you love me,” he said in a singsong voice, “love love.”

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