#I urge anybody who feels the same as that anon or is upset with my choices to please. just read a different fic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

a-froger-epic · 3 years

Text

The Queen fandom, Freddie Mercury and Characterisation

Or: Why are those anons like this? Why are those writers like this? Why don't we understand each other?

In this essay, I will-

No, I’m serious, I will. And this is an essay. It’s roughly 2500 words.

The friction, concerns and hurt in fandom around Freddie’s characterisation - most recently centred around a fic the author tagged as ‘Bisexual Freddie Mercury’, stating in the notes that they have chosen to write Freddie as bisexual - have given me a lot to think about. And if you have been asking yourself the questions above, this here might be of interest to you.

First off, why do I feel like I need to talk about this?

The answer is not: Because I’m so very influential in fandom.

I think my influence in this fandom has been vastly overstated by some people. If I were so influential, everybody would rush to read anything I rec or write. And trust me, they really don’t. My relevance is confined to a very specific part of the fandom. That part is made up of: Freddie fans, Froger shippers, some Roger fans, a handful of writers who like to support each other and like each other’s work, and people who are really into research.

There are many parts of fandom where my opinions are entirely irrelevant. Looking at the big picture, by which I mean only the Queen RPF fandom, I simply am not that important. Looking at the even bigger picture: the Queen fandom as a whole, the majority of which doesn't read or care about RPF - I am literally nobody.

Furthermore, everything I will be talking about here is in relation to the RPF-centred part of Queen fandom.

So why this public essay?

Because I have been deeply involved for two years in a divide of opinions concerning how Freddie ought to be written and how people think of RPF. I think this is in large part because I - like several other authors currently writing for the fandom - absolutely love research. It's my idea or fun. I love to dig into these real people’s lives. Not everybody does that and not everybody is comfortable with that. It’s a personal choice depending on people's levels of comfort surrounding RPF. But this does put me firmly in the camp of Freddie fans who like to explore who this man really was, and track down every last fact about him.

Freddie Mercury vs. Fictional Freddie

I’ll admit that I am one of those people who have the urge to speak up when they see somebody claim that Freddie was bisexual, and sometimes I will say: “Well, actually, we do know that he didn’t see himself that way, because…” For me, these have often been positive exchanges.

I think there is overwhelming evidence that Freddie Mercury identified as gay from his split with Mary to the end of his life (wonderfully curated here by RushingHeadlong). In the niche of fandom I have frequented over the last two years, as far as Freddie the real man is concerned, I have barely ever seen anybody argue with this.

But fanfiction and talking about real Freddie are not one the same thing, and they shouldn't be, and as far as I am concerned they don't have to be. Some writers like to put every last fact and detail they can find into their fic, in an attempt to approach a characterisation that feels authentic to them (and perhaps others), and other writers are simply content to draw inspiration from the real people, writing versions vaguely based on them.

But writing historically and factually accurate RPF is more respectful.

Is it? I've thought about this for a long time, and I really can't agree that it is. This, to me, seems to presume that we know what kind of fiction these real people would prefer to have been written about them. That, in itself, is impossible to know.

However, if I imagine Freddie reading RPF about himself, I think that he might laugh himself silly at an AU with a character merely inspired by him and may be really quite disturbed by a gritty, realistic take full of intimate details of and speculations about his life and psyche. Such as I also tend to write, just by the by, so this is definitely not a criticism of anybody. Freddie is dead. Of all the people to whom the way he is written in fiction matters, Freddie himself is not one. There is no way to know what Freddie would or wouldn't have wanted, in this regard, and so it isn't relevant.

Personally, I can't get behind the idea that speculating and creatively exploring very intimate details of Freddie's life, things he never even spoke of to anybody, is in any way more respectful than writing versions of him which take a lot of creative liberties. As I've said so many times before, I think either all of RPF is disrespectful or none of it is.

So who cares about Freddie characterisation in fiction anyway?

Clearly, a lot of people do. Freddie Mercury was an incredibly inspiring figure and continues to be that to a multitude of very different people for different reasons. There are older fans who have maybe faced the same kind of discrimination because of their sexuality, who saw Freddie's life and persona distorted and attacked by other fans and the media for decades, who have a lot of hurt and resentment connected to such things as calling Freddie bisexual - because this has been used (and in the wider fandom still is used) to discredit his relationship with Jim, to argue that Mary was the love of his life and none of his same sex relationships mattered, to paint a picture where "the gay lifestyle" was the death of him. And that is homophobic. That is not right. I completely understand that upset.

But.

These are not the only people who care about Freddie and for whom Freddie is a source of inspiration and comfort. What about people who simply connect to his struggles with his sexuality from a different angle? What about, for example, somebody who identifies with the Freddie who seemed to be reluctant to label himself, because that, to them, implies a freedom and sexual fluidity that helps them cope with how they see their own sexuality? Is it relevant why Freddie was cagey about labelling himself? Does it matter that it likely had a lot to do with discrimination? Are his reasons important? To some degree, yes. But are other queer people not allowed to see that which helps them in him? Are they not allowed to take empowerment and inspiration from this? Can you imagine Freddie himself ever resenting somebody who, for whatever reason, admired him and whose life he made that little bit brighter through his mere existence, however they interpreted it? I honestly can't say that I can imagine Freddie himself objecting to that.

This is the thing about fame. Anyone who is famous creates a public persona, and this persona belongs to the fans. By choosing that path, this person gives a lot of themselves to their fans. To interpret, to draw inspiration from, to love the way it makes sense to the individual. Please remember, at this point, that we are talking about how people engage with Freddie as a fictional character creatively. This is not about anybody trying to lay down the law regarding who Freddie really was, unequivocally. This is all about writers using his inspiring persona and the imprint he left on this world to explore themes that resonate with them.

This is what we as writers do. We write about things which resonate with us and often touch us deeply.

But don't they care about the real Freddie?

Yes, actually, I would argue that a lot of people care about "the real Freddie". It seems to me that depicting Freddie as gay or with a strong preference for men is what the vast majority of the RPF-centered fandom on AO3 already does. You will find very, very few stories where Freddie is depicted having a good time with women sexually or romantically. That he was mostly all about men is already the majority opinion in this part of fandom.

But another question is, who was the real Freddie? If the last two years in fandom have taught me anything, it is that even things which seem like fact to one person can seem like speculation to another. I have personally had so many discussions with so many people on different sides of the debate about the exact circumstances of Freddie's life and his inner world, that I must say I don't think there is such a thing as one accurate, "real" portrayal of Freddie. Even those of us who are heavily invested in research sometimes disagree quite significantly about the interpretations of sources. So that narrows "You don't care about the real Freddie" down to "You don't care about Freddie because you don't interpret everything we know about his life the exact same way I do". Sure, by that definition, very few people care about Freddie the same way you do.

The bottom line is, there are so many writers and fans who love him, people who are obsessed with him, people who care about him deeply. They might care about who they believe he really was or who he chose to present himself as to the world, the way he wanted to be seen. But ultimately, in my personal opinion, if somebody is inspired to write Freddie as a fictional character they feel that Freddie means a lot to them. And it is hurtful to accuse them of not caring.

But what some people write hurts/triggers me.

Yes, that can happen. Because the nature of AO3 is that everything is permitted. Personally, I am very much in agreement with that. You will also find me in the camp of people who are against any sort of censorship on AO3, no matter how much some of the content goes against my own morals or how distasteful I find it. Some people disagree with that, which is fine. We must agree to disagree then. Here, I would like to quote QuirkySubject from the post she made regarding this whole situation because I cannot put it better myself: “The principle that all fic is valid (even RPF fic that subverts the lived experience of the person the fic is based on) is like the foundation of [AO3]. The suggestion that certain kinds of characterisations aren't allowed will provoke a knee-jerk reaction by many writers.”

No matter how much you may disagree with a story's plot or characterisation, it is allowed on AO3. "But wait," you might say, "the issue is not with it being on the site but with people like yourself - who should care about "the real Freddie" - supporting it."

This is some of what I have taken away from the upset I have seen. And it’s worth deconstructing.

I've already addressed "the real Freddie". Moving on to...

The author is dead.

This is something others might very well disagree on as well, but to me the story itself matters far more than authorial intent. And what may be one thing according to the author’s personal definition, may be another thing to the reader. Let’s use an example. This is an ask I received yesterday:

This author thinks they were writing Freddie as bisexual. However, going by the plot of their story, I would actually say that it is largely very similar to how I see the progression of Freddie’s young adulthood. To me, personally, Freddie would still be gay throughout the story because he arrives - eventually - at the conclusion that he is. The author and I disagree on terminology only. And I think simply disagreements about terminology, given that some terms are so loaded with history in Freddie’s case, trips a lot of people up.

It seems to me that many people still equate bisexuality with a 50/50 attraction to men and women, when in actual fact many - if not most - bi/pan people would say that it is nowhere near that distribution. Some people are of the opinion that anybody who experiences some attraction to the opposite sex, even if they have a strong same-sex preference, could be technically considered bisexual. (However, sexuality isn’t objective, it’s subjective. At least when it comes to real people. What about fictionalised real people? We will get to that.)

Let's briefly return to real Freddie.

What I'm seeing is that there are several ways of thinking here, with regard to his sexuality.

1. Freddie was gay because that seems to be (from everything we know) the conclusion he arrived at and the way he saw himself, once he had stopped dating women. Therefor, he was always gay, it just took him a while to come to terms with it.

2. Freddie can be referred to as bisexual during the time when he was with women because at that time, he may very well have thought of himself thusly - whether that was wishful thinking and he was aware of it or whether he really thought he might be bisexual is not something we can say definitively. He came out as gay to two friends in 1974 on separate occassions, and he talked to his girlfriends about being bisexual. (Personally, I think here it is interesting to look at who exactly he was saying what to, but let's put my own interpretations aside.)

3. Freddie can be seen as bisexual/pansexual because his life indicates that he was able to be in relationships with both men and women and because there is nothing to disprove he didn't experience any attraction to the women he was with. Had he lived in a different time, he may have defined himself differently.

Now, I'm of the first school of thought here, personally, although I understand the second and also, as a thought experiment, the third.

I think all of these approaches have validity, although the historical context of Freddie's life should be kept in mind and is very relevant whenever we speak about the man himself.

But when we return to writing fictionalised versions of Freddie, any of these approaches should absolutely be permissible. Yes, some of them or aspects of them can cause upset to some people.

And this is why AO3 has a tagging system. This is why authors write very clearly worded author's notes. This is the respect authors extend to their readers. This, in turn, has to be respected. Everybody is ultimately responsible for their own experience on the archive.

Nobody has the right to dictate what is or isn't published under the Queen tag. As far as I am concerned, nobody should have that right. As far as I am concerned, everybody has a responsibility to avoid whatever may upset them. I understand where the upset comes from. I also maintain it is every writer's right to engage with Freddie's character creatively the way they choose to.

None of us can control how other people engage with Freddie or the fandom. None of us can control what other people enjoy or dislike about the fandom.

The best way to engage with the content creating part of fandom, in my opinion, has always been to create what brings you joy, to consume the content that brings you joy and to respectfully step away from everything that doesn't.

#Queen fandom #Freddie Mercury #bi Freddie

29 notes · View notes

everyhowlmarksthedead · 4 years

Text

JACKSON ‘JAX’ TELLER x READER ⨟ PROMPT

Anon #1 asked: Helloo! Could I request a jax teller x reader! A Jealousy one💕 Thank you

Anon #2 asked: 87+104 w/ jax teller please?

Prompts:

87. “Put on my kutte”.

104. “Don’t ask me to stop, I’m just gonna go harder”.

WARNINGS: NSFW, SMUT

Word Count: 2.5k

Author comments: This work wasn't re-edited, so I'm sorry if you find grammar mistakes! I hope you all enjoy. Gif isn't mine, credits to the author.

Tag list: @starrynite7114 @chibsytelford @dazzledamazon @mara-mpou @sammskellington @gemini0410 @1-800-imagines @briana-mishell24 @sassymox @whyisgmora @aquamento @sadeyesgf @viviansafizada @samcrobae @jade770 @witchy-wish @rebel-without-cause-x @xx--day-dreamer--xx @spiced-reads @tita127 @ifoundmyhappythought @enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat @angelxshiba @destynelseclipsa @sheeshgivemeabreak @abbiesthings @knowles-morgan @lady-pswrld @minnicelli @marquelapage @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @jadesamhart @mycupoffanfiction @agirllovespasta @ottosuricato ✨ (if you wanna be tagged, send me a message!)

“Having fun with Rafi?”

His voice doesn't surprise you, giving him your back while you look for the tequila Marcus has asked for. You know exactly what's happening and you're trying to not laugh in his face, or this shit is going to be serious. But it's the same situation when Sons of Anarchy and Mayans have a party together. Rafi, president's right hand, is pretty kind with you and an interesting man, so yes. You have a lot of fun talking about something else than motorbikes, drugs, guns and bitches. Before you can turn around to leave the warehouse, a hand surrounds your throat, feeling Jax's chest accommodating against your back.

“I. Asked. You. A. Question”. He says into your ear, sounding a little angry and upset.

You know exactly how it works, how he works. But you're not in this shit anymore. It's been six months since you fucked for the first time. Sex is good. So fucking good. But you're catching feelings and you don't know if he cares about you in the same way. His jealousy confuses you, because no man can touch you but you gotta put up with whores flirting with him.

“Yes”. You just say, keeping some seconds of silence. “I'm having fun with my friend. Are you having fun with those bitches, uh? All th—”.

“We are not talking about me, darling”. His free arm wraps your abdomen, pushing you a little more closer, while his fingers squeeze your neck.

“We should”.

You know that these words have confused him when he puts away his hands to let you turn around. You're frowning your eyebrows, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I'm not… gonna blame you for anything. But if I don't have the right to tell you who can or who can't touch you, you're not gonna do it, Jackson”. You say with a firm tone of voice.

The man turns his legs to stretch a hand and close the door, locking it to not be bothered by anybody. You can see how his face turns from confusion to incredulity, from zero to one hundred, in just one second.

“I don't want anyone else, (Y/N)”.

“Then, prove it. But don't demand me a respect that you don't show me. You wanna be fuck friends? Cool. I don't have any… compromise or a relationship with you, I get it. But then, I can do whatever the fuck I wanna do”.

“That's it? It's a question of status?”

“It's a question of that I love you, Jax. I truly do. For who you are to me, not for who you are to them. I don't give a shit about your club and your matching outfits of badass bikers. I'm more into what you make me feel when we're alone, without having a knife hanging on your belt”.

“So, you're basically asking me to be my Old Lady”.

“No, Jax! Why the fuck you end up bringing everything to the club business? You're not the fucking president of the United States, and I'm not that… bitch. I wa—”.

“The club is my life. And if you don't understand it, it's because you don't know me, (Y/N)”.

You nod. You don't want to think about these words, because it's enough pain what you are feeling without thinking about it.

“Then, I don't know you. And I don't want to”. You sentence, before leaving the warehouse. And the party.

You would be lying if you say that you slept last night. Even if you didn't want it, his last words were chasing you the whole time, walking through your house and touring every room trying to get tired to sleep. But there you are, sitting at the table in the kitchen, holding a mug of coffee and having a sip. Your gaze is in the middle of nowhere, not knowing if you are disappointed or dealing with a broken heart.

The door ring pushes you back to the real world, dragging backwards the chair to get up from it. Covering your mouth with a hand, because of a loud yawn, you open the main door to find Jax there. He looks like shit too, with the same black bags under his eyes, the same clothes and messy tufts of blonde hair falling on his forehead. Supporting a shoulder against the frame, you cross your hands on your abdomen.

“Can I come in?”

“No”.

He nods biting the inside of his lower lip.

“I'm sorry about last night”.

“Yeah, me too”.

“Are you…?”

“Yeah. I'm sorry for telling you about my feelings. The last thing I was expecting was you shitting on them”.

“Listen…” He says rubbing his face with both hands, pulling back his hair. “I'm sorry for talking to you as I did. I really want you to be my girlfriend, or whatever you want”.

“Why now do you want it? What you didn't want it like… seven hours ago? What changed? That I sent you to hell? Is that? I didn't know you were the kind of child who wants his toy back, when someone else is playing with it”.

“Could you please stop being this rude?”

“This rude? Oh, do you mean the same ‘rude’ you were last night, Jackson?” Rolling your eyes, you chuckle.

“I'm telling you that I love you, (Y/N)”.

“Good, thank you. Anything else?”.

“Shit… If you were one of my brothers…”

“What? You would punch me?” Standing up from the door, you raise both eyebrows. “Try me, blonde bitch”.

Adopting the look on your face, he can't believe what he's hearing. But he likes it. He likes the fact that you're talking to him without giving a shit about his club, his job, or whatever other thing. Touring his lower lip with the tip of his tongue, he gives a quick step to grab your throat with ringed fingers, pushing you into your house to close the door. You're not scared, you're not even thinking about defending yourself because you already know what it's going to happen.

The blonde man crashes your lips with his, tangling your fingers on the Reaper Crew shirt under the kutte, while you walk backwards to the sofa. He urges you to sit on his lap with his legs among yours, pawing your body desperately while your hips swing over the growing lump under his jeans. The rage because of your behaviors and the feeling of alleviate get mixed inside your mouth, and your tongues giving a pulse to each other. Taking you off the shirt over your hair, his teeth attack one of your nipples to suck and bite it, while the other receives the attention it needs pinching it with his fingers. Yours getting tangled on his hair, gasping with closed eyes, looking for some friction for your core.

“Fuck, Jax…”

“Don't ask me to stop, darling, I'm just gonna go harder”. He growls onto your skin undoing his belt and the zip of his jeans.

Without asking for it, nor expecting, Jax thrusts two ringed fingers inside you using all his strength, until his hand finds your limits. A pleasure scream comes out from your mouth, with his pace speeding up.

“You're the only bitch I'm gonna fuck”.

“Call me bitch again and…”

You can't stop the threat, when he pounds you harder.

“You what, honey? I didn't hear you”.

You try to speak two times more, having the same result. Jackson is teasing you and chuckling because of your reactions, until you slap his chest.

“Fuck me, baby”. You get to say, looking for his blue eyes.

“Get up, take off those panties and put on my kutte”.

Following the instructions in silence, the Son takes the advantage to roll down his jeans and his boxers to his ankles, throwing away his own shirt. His right hand goes to his hard dick, the one you love to ride and suck, watching you so focused on the way you have to wear the leather kutte of his club. And he can swear that he hasn't seen anything more perfect than it. Jerking himself off, Jax looks at you kneeling over the sofa to sit on him.

“I would let you be my president”. He jokes rubbing the head of his cock against your clit, provoking you a soft moan. “I love how your pussy feels, darling… Warm as fuck, suffocating me, suffocating my cock. I wanna fuck it every night. I wanna fuck you every night”.

“And every morning”.

“All the time”.

Moving your waist from back to forward, you focus your attention on his parted lips begging for something else.

“Ride me, darling”. He asks, getting a little more comfortable on the sofa.

You bounce onto his cock without waiting for any single word, separating your legs over the cushion to go deeper. Jax is big, so big, and when you're more than one day without being fucked by him, you need to take some seconds to adapt your tightness to how hard he is.

“This pussy drives me insane… You're so fucking wet I could drown myself in it”. He mumbles putting a hand on your pelvis to bring his thumb to your clit, stroking it to make you feel better. “I could eat you out the whole time. You're fucking delicious”.

“I'm gonna fuck you like no one else can, my prince”. You mutter resting your forehead on his, before starting to move.

And you don't work him slow like sometimes, you go rough, fast and anxious hitting your g-spot every time you let your body fall down. Every pound brings you to heaven, drinking his pleasured grunts when your wetness wraps his sensible skin so fast that he doesn't have time to finish a moan and start another one. Your hips dance furious above him, trying to show to the Son one of the things you can offer him, although he already knows it well.

His free hand slaps your ass hardly, making your back get arched because of the stinging, screaming out his name every time he does it; as if he was punishing you. But you like it. You like that he doesn't control himself, wanting to please you every single second, while you ride wildly his cock. Your cock. He has you bewitched, rapturous, out of the world with his thumb jerking off your clit with the same speed that you're fucking him. No mercy, non-stop, careless. Just you two giving in to your most primal instincts.

Leaning over him you catch his mouth with your teeth, biting his lips before kissing them, with all his fingers getting nailed on your buttocks. Squeezing and pinching them, leaving some beautiful marks that are going to hurt like hell.

“Shit, darling… Look at your fucking precious pussy, engorging my big dick once and again… to the limit.. Does it feel good? Do you like my dick, uh?”

“Yes… I fucking love it. I fucking love when you grab my hair and fuck my mouth inside my car”.

“Yeah, you like it? How much, my princess? Tell me”.

“Fucking much, Jackson… I love when you wake me up fucking my pussy, always ready for you. And when you're so fucking jealous, grabbing my throat and impaling me until making me cum”.

“Do you like that much?”

You nod in silence, feeling your legs starting to shake close to the orgasm.

“What about my mouth? Do you like it?”

“Fuck… Yes, Jackson. I love when you eat my pussy… When you come from the club and eat my wet pussy on the counter… Your tongue licking me, oh, shit…”

“You taste so good, my love… I love your little pussy”.

“Fuck, Jax… I'm gonna fucking cum…”

“Go harder, baby. I wanna feel you”.

You speed up with every thrust to your center, being wrapped by the sweat and the heat of the moment, crying out his name with your back arched at the moment you reach the orgasm. He fills you up, maintaining your gaze and enjoying the look on your face. So pleased, so ecstatic, running out of air.

“Put on your knees, darling… I'm gonna fuck your mouth as you like”.

You have to take some seconds on top of him to process the order, before doing it, settling yourself between his legs over the floor. Jax grabs your head with both hands pounding your mouth with fury, while your lips wrap all his extension, hitting your throat once and again. It hurts you sometimes, but you love it. The Son presses his swollen glans against your limits when he fills your mouth up, feeling his hot cum spilling inside it. He growls loudly lifting up a little his pelvis, with your nose touching his skin, forcing you to take it all.

“Fuck, darling… Fuck… It feels so fucking good…”

When he frees yourself of his cock, and some threads of your saliva mixed with his seed falls down by the corner or your lips, Jackson urges you to lie down on the sofa while you try to recover your breath. And when you're trying it, cleaning your mouth with the back of your hand, his tongue finds your throbbing core sucking it as if it was going to be the last thing he was to do in his life. Placing both legs over his shoulders, he cleans every trail of your juices, drinking them so delighted that you're about tu cum a second time when he slides three fingers inside you.

“Oh, fuck, Jackson!”

Shrinking under his caresses, you bring down your hands to his hair, sinking his face into your pussy. He's devouring it like no one else could do it, keeping his eyes on you with his ringed fingers fucking you so painfully pleasant that you can't help but find the ecstasy again. The heat is suffocating you, but he doesn't stop. His tongue toures your entrance, before catching your clit among his teeth biting it gently.

“FUCK, JACKSON… JACKSON, PLEASE, STOP”.

You're inside a bubble of pleasure and you are about to cry. You have never felt this good, but he's making it up to you as hard as he can. Pulling out his fingers of your tired pussy, he licks them crawling above your body before tucking them inside your mouth.

“Taste them… This is the most fucking delicious thing I ever had the opportunity to relish, darling”.

Tasting yourself, you spread your legs to give him some space for his body.

“I fucking love you, keep it in your fucking mind, (Y/N)”.

#sons of anarchy x reader #sons of anarchy imagine #sons of anarchy #jackson teller #jackson jax teller x reader #jax teller imagine #jax teller x reader #jax teller

297 notes · View notes

fe-husband-heaven · 5 years

Note

Not a request, just a comment: in your friend with benefits post with Sylvain you had a part that mentioned “possible angst? Felix’s secret crush messing around with his best friend” and GOD that would be so such a good idea for a fic or even just a headcanon post. I love everything you write in general though! Please keep it up! 😄

👀

👀👀

👀👀👀 Ahaha, lucky for anon, I didn't have time to finish any of my actual asks because of school and babysitting haha

but I did get to quickly give this hc list before being pulled away~ (++I totally adore angsty scenarios like this-)

Based on this post: Sylvain Friends With Benefits HC's (But he's falling in love with you-)

HC's:

Felix knew something was up rather quickly. He'd always been keen on shifts in a persons character, and it was very apparent in your sparring when you put more weight on one foot than the other.

When he questioned you on it, you simply said you were trying to accustom yourself to different conditions when fighting. Who knows, you might injure one ankle on the battlefield and have to fight with only one good foot!

It was clear you didn't want to reveal anything to him and it frustrated him greatly. Unbeknownst to you, he'd long developed feelings. Countless times at each others sides in battle, sparring sessions where neither was willing to surrender, and nights spent together sharpening weapons allowed for unexpected emotions to arise.

He allowed you closer than he normally would have and some stupid part of him began to think your connection was special, different than anybody else's. It wasn't long before he realized someone else had you in ways he didn't.

It was nighttime and he shouldn't have been up, but he was, and after working up a sweat to stave off restlessness, he headed towards his room.

But to reach his room, he had to pass Sylvain's. Nearing his doorway, Felix heard the creaking and shaking of bed springs. Rolling his eyes, Felix huffed, no doubt Sylvain had gotten someone under the covers, that man really is insatiable....

As he was passing the doorway, Felix moved to cover his ears to prevent hearing such raunchy sounds coming from the red heads room but before he managed to muffle any noise, he heard a voice he knew.

"Ah...Sylvain, don't leave marks there...they won't believe..ngh..the mosquito excuse in winter..."

Saying time stopped for Felix is cliche, but it sure as hell felt like it did. He'd only made it halfway past when he'd heard your voice, that voice that he'd grown accustomed to hearing whine when he'd interrupt one of your naps in favor of a duel.

Felix's footsteps halted and against his body turned towards your voice. It was just a small crack in the door but it was enough to confirm what it sounded like. He couldn't see Sylvain, but he could see you.

You were pressed against the bed, clutching at the mattress covers with your eyes shut, breathing heavily, cheeks tinted red from exertion. From what little could be seen, he could still tell your body was being rocked back and forth from behind, it didn't take a genius to figure out the rest.

He stepped back out of a misplaced sense of betrayal, and a cold sweat began to form on his forehead. Another moan from you jolted him back to his senses and he turned, walking quickly to his room, hating the way his body reacted to your voice.

He felt like a fool. A complete and utter fool. He knew he had no right to feel as though he was deceived, you didn't belong to him, and he didn't belong to you. What his best friend did with his time was none of his business, but his heart didn't care and it was pulsing with jealousy and a momentary loss for something that he didn't have to begin with.

He couldn't sleep that night. Anytime he closed his eyes he'd hear your voice again, this time begging for him to be the one to grab a hold of your hips and-

Ugh. How pathetic. He didn't need distractions like this. He'd known all along that anything having to do with romance was merely a waste of time, he knew that, he'd always known that. That night had ended with a cold shower and the constant tossing and turning till morning broke.

After that, Felix almost wanted to stab himself seeing the amount of signs that you and Sylvain had anything but a normal relationship, in plain sight. Sylvain's lingering gazes, his offers to do anything for you that would require extensive walking, the turning down of propositions from women??

Even you were acting different, the sudden preference for high collared shirts, the newly found interest in the same poetry and art that Sylvain had, and even your growing proficiency in magic was telling.

..And..He himself was acting different, it wasn't his place to be bitter but his mouth had no filter. Every so often, his usual tongue lashings would have more of a bite than they normally did. The confused looks the both of you gave him, wondering if you'd done anything to upset him, only made him feel worse

When the war hit, he knew your affair hadn't stopped, but he had bigger things to worry about then. He'd grown a lot, matured emotionally, forming an even closer friendship with the both of you, despite knowing of your relationship.

Despite his unforgiving feelings for you. He became a rock for you and Sylvain, on and off the battlefield. A trio who could wreck havoc, as Ingrid put it anyway. A twisted part of him hoped Sylvain's philandering side would make its reappearance, cementing that the two of you were only in it for the primal urges.

But, those hopes were dashed when Sylvain announced his engagement to you shortly after the war ended.

#fire emblem three houses #fe3h #fire emblem 3h #felix #sylvain #lemonish #oop oop oop #s-sorry felix #quick random post as an offering djjddj #i hope its ok?

109 notes · View notes

kassandra-lorelei · 4 years

Note

Hey! I don't know if you still do these but would you be able to write an n/cc fic where instead of proposing in The Producers, Niles tells CC the play was for her ? Thank you and I love your writing!!

I absolutely still do these, Anon - I have no idea how long you have been waiting now and I’m so sorry it’s taken this long! I have quite a backlog to get through, with full-time work and general adult life (as well as some executive dysfunction), but this one is all ready to go. I really hope you enjoy it, and I will get on the next one on the list as soon as possible (it may happen quicker, considering we’re on lockdown for at least another two weeks, but we shall see how these things go) ❤️

@missbabcocks1 @holomoriarty

“You finally pulled off something bigger than your shorts!”

The zinger, alongside the accompanying gleeful laughter – asexpected as this package would normally have been – utterly blindsided Niles,given that Miss Babcock had only just told him how impressed she was. Impressed.She’d actually used the word “impressed”, to talk about this entire play thathe’d produced! The play that now this entire room full of people werecelebrating, at an afterparty he’d never before imagined could exist.

It had been like music, hearing the words from her lips, rubyred and curved into a smile that looked far softer and friendlier than normal…

He should have known she was setting him up. Why wouldn’tshe be? Since when did they ever do anything that wouldn’t somehow lead to the (atleast) momentary downfall of the other? It was all they ever did.

And his only hope of salvation at that moment was to thinkup a snappy retort that he could fire back at the back of her golden head,where she’d crushingly turned away.

But even though words and phrases and colourful insults of allshades and hues danced through his head, urging him to continue the wargames, everysingle one of them died the moment he attempted to let them fall onto histongue.

It was useless. The entire idea of having her as his enemy hadno meaning to it.

What was the actual point, in letting it go on? In allowingthe cycle that ran a far-too-thin line between hurt and fun to just…run theirlives? Would it go on forever, him never admitting how he felt and neverhearing what she really felt, either, whatever that was? As terrifying as itwas to think that they might be nothing otherwise, this all currently felt likea twisted Purgatory; one where the stranded soul could experience both Heavenand Hell in equal, random measure.

There was only one thing he could do. Only one, if he wantedto take a shot at reaching paradise.

Even if he fell on the way, at least he would have tried.

And, after a moment in which he had gathered his courage andhad dumped a few phrases from his mind that would either scare her (“Marry me”;who wanted to immediately be asked that?) or come across as peculiar (“I pulledthem off for you”; what was that even supposed to mean?!), he finally knew whathe had to say.

“And it was all done for you.”

He wondered, for a moment, if she hadn’t heard him. If hewas about to have another moment like he’d had in the kitchen, where he hadbeen able to swiftly back out the second he’d realised it had been a bad idea.

But she turned, eyes wider than before and lips slightlyparted, as though she were holding herself back from simply letting her jawdrop.

“What did you just say?”

Her tone told him she wasn’t asking because she hadn’theard. She was asking precisely because she had heard. She’d heard, and shecouldn’t believe any of it.

Niles, meanwhile, was rooted to the spot and hastily tellingevery panicked thought in his mind that he wasn’t about to turn and run away.

There was no point in backing out now. No chance to, either.

He pulled another breath into his lungs, making it deep. Hehad a feeling that it could be one of his last, anyway, so he might as wellmake it a good one.

“I…I said that this show was…made for you,” he explained,finding it a gargantuan effort simply to not swallow his own tongue in theprocess. “I produced it for you. As a…as a token…of my affection…”

He trailed off as Miss Babcock took a step in his direction.But it wasn’t a ‘happy’ step, or even a surprised one (though she’d have everyright to be surprised, if she was feeling it underneath the apparent anger); itwas more the sort of march forward one might expect of an army captain whohad just heard a war prisoner speaking out of turn. The sort of step that commanded,while ordering an explanation the person most likely would no longer know howto give.

And it made Niles suddenly very aware of the fact that he’djust told this to her in a room full of other people, both friends andstrangers, all of whom had already been to see a show that evening. As thebutler wasn’t keen on the idea of them seeing another one, he directed his gazeall around them, indicating the fact that they weren’t alone and any sort ofscene made would have witnesses.

“Should we perhaps…go somewhere else to talk? I know thatthis must be-“

He didn’t get to finish his sentence. Miss Babcock hadalready gotten close enough to reach out and grab his wrist, dragging him outof the room.

“You’re damn right we’re going somewhere else to talk!”

……………………………………………………………………………………….

The journey she took him on through the building seemed to goon forever, neither one of them speaking a word until Miss Babcock finallysettled on a small room which appeared to be used to store props and a few racksof costumes. Again, it wasn’t exactly the stunning Hollywood setting hiswildest fantasies conjured up in the dead of night, but this was reality.

He’d be a fool to really think they’d go to some privateterrace overlooking the city, where all the feelings would come out as themusic rose to a great crescendo, whereupon they’d immediately fall into eachothers’ arms.

He was, in truth, lucky that she hadn’t simply laughed athim before walking away, back at the party.

On the other hand, the look on her face as she closed thedoor behind them, standing between him and the only available exit, made himthink that there were still far more fortunate people out there than he was.

“Alright, Butler Boy, you’d better start going against yourbetter drinks-pouring instincts and spill!”

On any other day, and in any other place at any other time, Nilesmight have considered turning that demand into a zinger. But as thingscurrently stood, he couldn’t even work up the nerve to think of one, let alonesay it out loud.

All he had was what he had worked up all this courage totell her.

With no idea of where to begin, if he was honest. There wasso much that he wanted – had – to get out, that it all wanted to come rushingout at once! But that wouldn’t work; it would just get all jumbled up andconfuse Miss Babcock at best, or make her angrier than she already was, atworst.

Maybe it was best if she decided what he started with? Thatway he could focus on one thing at once…

“Where would you like me to start?”

The question came out much meeker and softer than he’dwanted it to be, and that want quickly transferred to the idea of kickinghimself. He didn’t exactly sound like James Bond, this way. More like the guywho never made it through basic spy training because he cried whenever the timecame for interrogation practice.

If he could just be calm and rational about it all, it mightnot be so difficult.

Not that the producer made it easy, simply by being there infront of him. This was different from his many awkward-but-at-least-practicedattempts at telling her, done in front of the mirror at the mansion. He didn’thave anybody glaring at him, for a start.

Further emphasising the point, Miss Babcock also folded herarms, “I don’t know, maybe on that word you used – you know the one; affection.”

Niles silently held his breath before even trying torespond.

“What about it?”

“Where the hell did it come from, perhaps?! Just to startoff with,” she shouted in return, sounding equal parts bewildered and enraged. “Andthen maybe why you thought you could just say it like that?!”

“I didn’t think I could just say it like that!” he foundhimself arguing in return, sadness and fear giving way to his chest starting tocave in. “I…I had to get it out before I lost my nerve.”

““Lost your nerve”?” Miss Babcock echoed, scoffing at thesame time. She then folded her arms. “That makes it sound like this wasn’t somesort of practical joke on your part!”

Niles’ jaw dropped of its own accord, words tumbling outbefore he could stop to think rationally, “Why on Earth would you believe thatit was a practical joke…?!”

“Isn’t everything else you do to me a prank, or a practicaljoke of some kind?!” the producer snapped. “Why would this be any different?”

The butler let his mouth close again. His mind was warringover whether he could scarcely believe what he’d heard, or if he was justshocked and upset because he knew that she was right. He supposed it was amixture of both, along with the realisation that that really was what was goingon – if they both thought it, separately, without any input from the other, howcould it not be true?

There had barely been an interaction between them whichhadn’t started with some sort of practical joke, from one side or the other. Andhe had started it all. In his foolish – and perhaps insane – attempts to benoticed by someone who would otherwise never have much of a reason to even lookat him for more than a few seconds, he had started their rivalry.

Miss Babcock had simply retaliated; given back as good asshe’d gotten.

She must’ve mistaken his horrified silence for an admissionof guilt in the present moment because she continued. Only this time, shesounded…almost resigned. As if she believed the whole evening had been leadingup to this very second, and she was upset that she hadn’t seen or understoodthat fact before now.

Niles didn’t know why that would be the case. It was justhow she appeared.

The producer leaned on the nearest prop crate, arms stillfolded and now looking at him with more than a mild degree of expectation, aswell as annoyance.

“So come on and own up; what was the punchline in this latestand greatest trick of yours? Or did I spoil the whole thing, by not letting usbe in a room full of people who could hear it?”

The butler silently swallowed before he answered. This wastruly it; there was no going back from this moment on.

“There is no punchline.”

Miss Babcock scoffed again, rolling her eyes.

“Oh come on, Niles, of course there’s a punchline!” shecried out in disbelief. “That’s like saying that there’s no-”

“There is no punchline, Miss Babcock!” Niles was moreforceful in his insistence, this time. It was as though something in him hadsnapped, at last – as though it had gotten weary or sick of backing down, ornever even speaking up in the first place. “It wasn’t a joke. I produced thatplay for you, as a token of my affection.”

“What the hell do you mean, “affection”?!” she shouted back.

That was more than enough to open the floodgates.

Scratch that, actually; opening the floodgates might implythat they could be closed again and something could still be held back. Thiswas more like someone had taken a giant wrecking ball to the wall of the dam.

“How can I put that word any more simply than you alreadyhave it?! Affection! Caring! Fondness! I am in love with you, you stupidwitch!”

For an instant – a point suspended in time which might’vebeen minutes, or just mere seconds – Miss Babcock looked amazed. Her eyes wentwide with shock, but no horror, and she appeared struck by the notion that hehad opened up beyond all measure. She actually looked quite a bit like she hadin each of Niles’ fantasies, just before the point where she would quietly ask“Really?”, before he’d say yes and they’d embrace in whatever fanciful or over-the-toplocation he’d picked for his mind’s outing that particular evening.

But, as he’d noted when they’d gone in, this was real life,taking place in an unimportant prop closet that didn’t even have so much as awindow to let in light, let alone provide Oscar-worthy cinematography and mise-en-scène.

And the instant ended as quickly as it had begun, when theproducer seemed to shake herself out of it and spring right back into anger.

“Oh, baloney! Since when have you ever displayed one iota ofinterest in me that could’ve come across as being in love?!”

Whatever had snapped in the butler before, could only havesnapped partially. He knew this because he felt the rest of it go and his ownanger – built up over years of frustration, pain and sorrow – flared to life.

“Whenever would you have let me?! Would an ordinary servantwho barely uttered a word and whom you would only see when they brought you teaor took your coat ever have stood a chance?” he took a step forward, letting gocompletely as the feelings took over. He jabbed the air in between them,pointing at her accusingly. “Be completely honest with both me and yourself,just this once, and tell me; would you have even seen me as a person if Ihadn’t gone further?”

There would almost have been another silence, had he notsworn he could hear the resounding slap to Miss Babcock’s face that his wordshad just produced. Even if she was trying to hold it together, he could tellthat the hit had landed – he saw a light dim in her eyes, that he had never,ever seen get even slightly dull before. Even in their worst moments, thosesapphires had never been anything less than bright, whether they were sparklingwith delight or burning with fire.

The guilt started in his throat and burrowed downwards,hollowing him out into the pit of his stomach. It was more than enough to makehim duck his head away in shame.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that,” he bit the insideof his lip, every awful feeling word churning up his insides. “Just as Ishouldn’t have said or done a lot of things. I felt as though I had no choice;I could either stay an active part of your day-to-day life, albeit one that stuckin your craw, or I could just…blend into the furniture, like all the otherservants your family has ever known.”

He found himself leaning on his own crate and stared a holeinto the floor, the weight of everything coming crashing down on him, from thenotion of his own worthlessness in life to the knowledge that he’d been a foolto even try and attempt this.

“I suppose this play was just yet another desperate butfailed attempt at being more.”

“Desperate and failed”, indeed. The two words summed him upperfectly. He was nothing more than a stupid butler, who’d done too much damagein a place where he just simply wasn’t wanted. And even if he had had a chance,how good would those chances have been against someone else’s? That slimpossibility that she might look in his direction was nothing, compared to whatwould happen if some rich, handsome, charming fellow passed her way.

He couldn’t even begin to hold a candle to what she couldget. Or what she deserved. The chance was nothing, and so was he.

There wasn’t anything else to it, then. He had to leave – he’dapologise for even bringing this entire business up, promise to never let it affecthis work or hers (there would be no more pranks, to start with) and then hewould go. As he had no way of obtaining a new job, he would simply stay out ofher way at the mansion, as best he could. The entire afterparty was over forhim, too, so he had no qualms about leaving it. He wasn’t in much of acelebratory mood.

He was about to start with the first part by getting up fromhis temporary perch, when Miss Babcock’s voice cut through the still, slightlystale air.

“You’re right.”

He knew he was; that was why he felt so terrible. But hecouldn’t help being curious about which bit in particular she wanted to bringup and discuss.

“…About which part?”

He never expected the answer he got.

“All of it. All the stuff to do with me, anyway,” she mumbled,before shifting in chosen seat to apparently get more comfortable. “Ever sinceI was a little girl, my family always taught me how to act around servants.“They’re there to give you what you need, you don’t have to thank them!”, “It’stheir job to look after us, we don’t mix with them for pleasure!”, “Stoptalking to them so much, they’re not your friends!”…but I couldn’t help talkingto you. As much as you’ve always been a pain in my ass, I’ve never been able tohelp stopping whatever the hell I’m doing and talking to you. Paying attentionto you. My mother would probably say it was you “stepping out of line” that haddone it, but you know what?”

Niles had been slowly looking up even as she’d spoken, but itwas obvious that she had his full attention by the time she got to thatquestion. The pit in his stomach seemed to have – at least temporarily – filleditself. He didn’t dare call it hope, even if that was what it was.

He had to wait, and find out what Miss Babcock said nextfirst.

Her words came out like she felt liberated.

“I…I don’t really think I care. All those times that we’vehad – the fun ones, especially, like your friend’s wedding, or the BroadwayGuild Awards…they didn’t feel bad or wrong. My mother would’ve called themthat, but they weren’t. I liked doing those things with you, and I don’t feelembarrassed about them, even though God knows just saying it out loud iskilling me, right now…!”

It was her turn to look away, towards the floor. Even in thelower light of the storage room, Niles thought he could see a tinge of pink inher cheeks.

The not-hope feeling in his stomach faltered betweenstrengthening and shattering. Was she really blushing? She couldn’t be, couldshe? C.C. Babcock, Ice Queen of New York City and the Bitch of Broadway, wouldnever dream of blushing! Especially not over all the times she’d spent withhim!

But…if that wasn’t the case, then what else could she bedoing?

Did he have to test the waters and find out? Some might saythey were shark infested…

But how could he leave it all where it was, either? He’dcome so far, with so much courage plucked up that if it had been feathers froma bird, it would’ve been bald and ready to be stuffed for Thanksgiving by now.

He’d done all of this – nearly bankrupted their boss, gottenone of his closest friends into trouble with her husband and somehow pulled offa spectacular Broadway show – simply to tell her how he felt. Could he reallylive with himself if he let it all go to waste, because of a moment’shesitation at the last second?

Niles honestly didn’t think that he could.

So, he did what he might have imagined unthinkable, at onepoint in their relationship. He got up from where he was sat and walked overto sit down on the crate next to her. She looked at him the entire way over,and she didn’t stop even when he was sat down, barely half a foot of space betweenthem.

“I enjoyed those days, too, very much,” he said. “I’vealways wanted more of them…”

“Yeah. Me too,” she replied quietly, biting theinside of her lip as though deciding whether or not to say anything else. Then,she made up her mind. “To be honest, those times have been some of the bestI’ve ever had. Better than anything I could ever even dream of with…”

Her eyes dropped back to the floor again, clearly even moreembarrassed than only a few seconds ago, when she’d told him that she’d likedspending time with him.

It didn’t take a genius to work out which name would’vefilled the trailed-off silence.

Mr. Sheffield. She was talking about Mr. Sheffield…!

And…and she was saying that all the times they’d spenttogether – the nights out, the dancing, drinking, having fun – all meant moreto her than…than anything she’d ever imagined in her head!

He, the real-life butler Niles, had somehow managed to beatout the idealised version of Maxwell Sheffield. The one person he never thoughthe’d ever be able to compete with, in looks, or charm, or money, and yet he hadcome out on top. And not even some fantasy version, where he could hope to holda candle to their employer – just…regular old him!

It all sounded like a complete and utter dream come true;the kind that was normally heartbreaking in reality because you knew it neverwould, and yet here he was, living it out!

He even thought that he could feel the not-hope changing itsname.

“You…you really do mean that?” he asked, in awe as much ashe was in disbelief.

Miss Babcock looked at him briefly from the corner of her eye,then nodded, “Guess I finally figured I’ve been getting my priorities allscrewed up. It wouldn’t be the first time that’s ever happened.”

The butler frowned, his previous worries now turning to thefact that she was beating herself up over what she’d felt was right before.Hearing what her life had been like, when she was young and was being strongly influencedby her mother, somehow it all made sense that she would look for a rich man. Anyrich man, as long as he could prove his wealth and his connections. Mr. Sheffield had simply been the perfect candidate for a long checklist that theproducer had been given to carry around her whole life, whether she cared aboutwhat was on the list or not.

She’d probably convinced herself that she did care, simplyto make it easier. Not that it had turned out easier, but that was anothermatter entirely.

He let his hand slide along the prop crate, so it was closerto hers, “There’s no reason for you to be harsh with yourself over this.”

Miss Babcock sighed, shaking her head.

“You don’t have to make me feel better about it, Niles. I’mthe one who got it all wrong,” she said, shame permeating her tone. “Worst partis, I wouldn’t have even thought about it, if it weren’t for…all that stuffthat happened, back at Hanukkah…”

Niles winced minutely even at the mere thought of thatnight. The hours had stretched out for him in a way he’d never imaginedpossible, and the terror of it possibly turning into the worst night of hislife had hung over him like a curse. It was a curse that hadn’t been brokenuntil their nearly-lost loved ones had all piled in through the door, cold,hungry and exhausted, but mercifully alive.

Between the two of them, there had been a sort of unspokentruce that night. But even in a time when they probably could have spokenfreely, they had almost deliberately held back. They probably thought they wereprotecting themselves – protecting the game they had going on.

Now wasn’t the time for holding back, though. And the gamewasn’t worth protecting in that sense anymore, anyway.

“What did you think, that night?” he asked quietly.

“I was…scared. Well, more like terrified, actually,” sheadmitted, sounding like the words had been aching to come out of her mouth eversince she’d had the feeling. “I thought I was going to freeze to death in theback of that car. I gave it my best shot to act like everything was just fine –that everything was normal and okay. But the moment Maxwell and the Little One gottalking about what would happen if the car wasn’t found, it made me think.Hard. And don’t you dare say that’s a dangerous occupation for me.”

Niles shook his head, “I wasn’t going to.”

Miss Babcock looked uncomfortable for a moment, shufflingand shifting on the spot.

“Sorry; force of habit, I guess,” she said, beforecontinuing her explanation. “It…it made me think, and it made me realise that Iwasn’t thinking about…anybody in the car.”

Again, that was another blatant reference to their employer,quickly followed by her turning her eyes up and truly meeting his gaze for thefirst time in this conversation.

“But I was thinking about what I could be losing.”

It was obvious what she meant, even without her actuallysaying it. The words needed to tell him were probably too monumental, toosignificant and weighted with meaning in her mind to get out right then andthere. She needed time to process them, and he realised now that he understoodthat. He’d had far too long to mull over his own thoughts and feelings, but herswere only just starting to dawn in her conscious mind.

He wasn’t going to overwhelm her any more than she alreadyhad been by saying more than he needed to. He’d use her language – theirlanguage, perhaps? – and take it slowly.

“That was how I felt, that night. It accidentally slippedout, while we were on the phone to the police, looking for you all,” he toldher. “I covered my tracks, of course, but there was no coming back from it forme.”

He thought he heard the producer make a noise in the back ofher throat, but she gave no other reply. Instead, silence overtook the littleroom again.

Before it could drag on too long, the butler spoke up again,the last of his thoughts coming together in a way that made coherent sense, foronce.

“Maybe this play – for me, in some ways – wasn’t just about stayingnoticed. It took it further than that. Perhaps…perhaps I was worried about whatI could lose, too,” he said. “We’ve been going at this a long time, withoutreally talking or trying anything else. I knew that eventually, it would haveto end. You would find someone, like Chandler or…or Colin. Only they’d be evenbetter, this time, and all my chances, however slight, would’ve been used up. Andwe’ve already lost enough before now…”

His confession made him wonder if he’d tipped the scales toofar in the opposite direction, and he shut himself up as he waited for herreply.

Not for the first time that night, what he heard in returnwasn’t what he’d expected.

“We haven’t lost anything tonight.”

That made him look directly at her, “We haven’t…?”

“I don’t think so,” she turned herself – her entire bodythis time – so that she was facing him more directly, her leg leaning on theedge of the crate. “I, uh…I actually think it might be nice, to try somethingnew. To stop getting hung up on stuff that isn’t right, and going around incircles because of it. If we try to move forward, maybe we’ll reach a point wherewe both end up winning.”

Niles didn’t know if time had slowed so much that it feltlike his heart had stopped, or whether it had just exploded in a sort of silentfirework that burst in the feeling equivalents of bright reds and pinks, turningto vibrant greens and yellows, before sparkling away in glitters of gold.

His not moving (which came from shock and awe, nothing else)clearly sent off the wrong signal to Miss Babcock, because she cleared herthroat, looking awkward and embarrassed.

“If you still want to, obviously.”

That was when his hand finally dared to hold hers, whichsent her gaze straight back to his.

The butler’s voice was barely above a whisper, “I neverstopped wanting to.”

He didn’t know if he had leaned in first, or whether she wasalready there when his lips met hers. He didn’t particularly care, either. Allthat mattered was the feeling of her in his arms, which made their way aroundher lower back, as hers pulled him in for the kiss to deepen. He felt her arms wraparound his neck, and she moaned into his mouth as she let his tongue start toexplore, hers leaving him groaning as she started her own discoveries.

But it was only a start. They had to pull away for air far soonerthan either would have liked, but they stayed with their arms around oneanother, and it wasn’t long before Niles felt ready to go back in for anotherkiss.

Miss Babcock stopped him, however, teasingly placing afinger on his lips.

“We’re gonna have to get back in there sooner or later,Scrub Brush,” she said, her voice low and her eyes dark. “After-afterpartieshave to wait.”

Niles tried not to deflate too much; he knew she was right,after all. They had a whole room full of people who would have noticed thatthey hadn’t come back in by now. And even if most of them weren’t concerned forone reason or another, he could very easily imagine Fran coming back there tolook for them (read: to find out if her plan had worked just as she’d wanted).And the things he had in mind were the last thing he ever wanted her to see.

But he couldn’t help taking a particularly interested note atthe idea of the producer saying their “after-afterparty” simply had to wait. Forhow long? Did she want to test the waters more before they made the leap? He’dwait for as long as she wanted, obviously, but he also wanted to ensure thatthey were completely on the same page.

They’d been reading the same information in such different waysfor too long, now.

He kissed her fingertip, before pulling away to speak.

“For anything in particular?” he asked, taking her hand andkissing the palm.

“To see how the rest of the night goes,” she answered,getting up and pulling him to his feet playfully as she did. “If it turns out asgood as the play was, you might want to stick around.”

Niles’ eyebrow quirked, and he gave her a lopsided grin.

“And if it’s duller than dishwater?”

Miss Babcock started to grin in return, and she looped herarm in his to lead him out before she gave any sort of reply.

“Then we already know there’s an empty storage closet backhere, don’t we?”

#anon asks #the nanny #niles and cc #niles the butler #cc babcock #otp: butler bitch #otp: always been bitter together

16 notes · View notes

theclaravoyant · 6 years

Note

Like listen there's some shit that's a 100% no from me because it triggers intrusive thoughts for me from past abuse; and ya know what I fucking do? Blacklist! Unfollow! Block if I need to! All because someone was "abused" in a Poly Relationship which like yeah that's super shitty man; but people need to take control to make themselves safe. Plus threatening someone by telling them to kill themselves is emotional abuse and super illegal :) :)

Right?? I mean I’m a little sympathetic bc being triggered fuckin sucks bad but like... it’s not the way to go about things, and you can’t just be pulling the ‘i was triggered card’ over and over again. the fact that this person has done it multiple times suggests to me that it’s not just a knee jerk ‘i was triggered and said/did something in anger and took it too far’ either, which can happen. Having seen it over and over again by who I very much suspect is the same person suggests to me that the person is either lying, or using being triggered as an excuse to full-on attack people and it’s not good enough tbh.

READ the tags on things that’s what they’re there for, and find out how to block things. Don’t come after 3 people writing the same ship with the same tags one after the other. And if you are so sensitive to a trigger that the mere mention or even implication of something upsetting (eg tagging Character A/Character B/Character C) sets you off to such a degree that you feel the urge to tell people to kill themselves, you really need to get some help.

Readers/consumers of content, please don’t feel that I’m expecting you to tiptoe around creators and shoulder 100% responsibility all by yourself. If you find something triggering or potentially triggering in somebody’s work, especially if it’s a creator/blogger you like and want to stick with, I don’t think there’s any harm in writing to them and mentioning it, or asking them to tag it. It can also be helpful to do this off anon, or at least with some level of manners, so that creators understand where you’re coming from, especially if you want something done about it - they may be more defensive than you’re expecting, as they’ve probably had more people harass or troll them (and/or seen their friends go through it) than you might think.

On the flip side, I think as creators it’s important to be mindful that for people to protect themselves we have to give them some tools such as tags, that they can block, and I do believe in tagging triggers where possible to be helpful. Try to remember that triggers are not necessarily predictable or dark things, and that something that might seem fake or ridiculous to you, might not be so to the person going through it. Triggers are very personal and they are completely amoral - I know someone who gets triggered with memories of her abuse by a particular song, for example. Even I used to have my anxiety triggered by people holding hands of all things. People asking you about something aren’t inherently telling you it’s evil, and tagging is not censorship, so please try not to be offended when people ask you to tag. Unfortunately, expect that some people may need to unfollow or potentially even block you if they find your content triggering especially if it’s not something that can be easily avoided. But that doesn’t mean you can’t protect yourself either.

It is also important as creators to protect ourselves, and that might be in not responding to these comments, in reporting and blocking them if necessary. I don’t like holding the “you make a valid point but you said it in a mean way so I’m not going to do it” card over anybody’s head, but using your trigger(s) as a way of assessing what or who is evil and should die is not even making a valid point. So in terms of dealing with it from the POV of somebody receiving an ask like this, some advice is:

Remember that you don’t actually owe anyone anything, so you can ignore them, delete, report or block if you want to

BUT I would encourage you not to react straight away. Are they actually coming after you, or do you feel threatened because of the unexpected criticism? Maybe a bit of both, in which case, is there actually anything valid in the message eg could you be tagging better? I think I caved a bit too easily on mine, but I have also seen people not tag things like suicidal thoughts or attempts because they happened in a nightmare type scenario, but the reader is still subjected to them, so it is probably still worth tagging imo. Also, are you already using a tag they might not know about (or might be conveniently ignoring, if they’re just out to get you) which you can direct them toward so this doesn’t happen in future?

**PLEASE DO NOT** bite back in a similar tone of anger or sarcasm, it really doesn’t help anybody and encourages an antagonistic relationship between writers and readers/creators and consumers. Even if the person messaging you is out of line or is harassing you, somebody seeing this might feel that they can no longer come to you with legitimate triggers etc and have them respected.

If you feel up to it, maybe ask the person to come back and talk about it when they are in a calmer mood. (but again if they are triggered to the point of telling you to kill yourself by the mere whisper of your subject they probably aren’t up to a conversation about it)

If not, deleting the ask, and or reporting and/or blocking is 100% fine. I sometimes delete the first, but only block or report if they come back, or if it is particularly bad. Decide what works for you, but be safe.

REMEMBER THOUGH - Creators and readers can and do work together all the time to ensure that we can all have a pleasant experience in our various fandoms. I would encourage everyone who has read this far and might get the impression that we’re all a bit antagonistic, to remember that. The MAJORITY of the time, tagging works and functions like block are great backups. But when things get out of control (eg in the case that this anon is referencing) there are steps you can take. We’ve got to look out for ourselves as well as each other in this world.

#tagging #blacklisting #fic writer problems #how to adult #mental health #health #ask me stuff #life of a fangirl #abuse mention #suicide mention #Anonymous

5 notes · View notes

closedspeciesdrama · 6 years

Text

Super Big Post about Taiyakis or something

This will be a long post

Hey hey it's Nokkel here, to no one's surprise. I wasn't going to bother sending anything, but that last anon sounded genuinely interested on knowing what's going on without being so eagerly negative, so here's what I'm gonna share with you. Please bear in mind this is my own opinion and does not necessarily correspond to all of the paca mods and such.

When this happened, I had a feeling somebody was going to feel the urge to come here and say something, but I wanted to know what people would say if no one from the mod team came here to give an official statement of sorts.

Before we dwell into the problem at hand, I need to say some things! First of all, I am disgusted at how many of the people in this blog have no issue whatsoever with dragging someone through the mud for the sake of their own entertainment (and I'm not only talking about this, but a lot of other recent complaints in this blog), how you can go as far as complaining about a community because they try to keep their ambient wholesome and positive, because that's totally a bad thing? Secondly, I really don't think you have an idea of how TIRING it is to come here and explain everything to you every time something happens. I really don't have the energy to keep up with every single thing that is brought up here and in other places because every time we keep on being antagonized just because we are mods. Not because we are mods does it mean we are not people, that we can't have opinions, or that our personal space is free for you to step on, and I wish you would stop trying to excuse your shitty behavior by being all like "Well, I'm targeting mods from a popular species so that makes it alright".

So anyway, let's jump into this deep ocean surrounding Wivi and Gator...

Gator posted some adopts based on pictures of taiyaki ice cream, and Wivi's friend thought of the other taiyaki paca. Wivi told Gator that they could "ahve done it a lot differently" and that's a respectable opinion. Gator was concerned that they might look too similar for others (regardless of how they felt about it) so they did the right thing and approached the rest of the mod team to ask if we thought Gator's design needed to be changed.

Personally, I don't think the two designs were close enough. They were the same theme? Yes. They are both pink? Yes. They happen to have some traits in common? Yes. But that alone doesn't mean they are not different enough. They each have their own charm. I doodled them side by side to compare them, and I think you can tell they are completely different pacas with different design choices. Not to mention, Gator based their paca on a photo and it's likely wivi based their design on that same photo (an unfortunate coincidence), which led to some things being a bit similar.

The mods agreed it wasn't too similar, so Gator went ahead and told Wivi they had approached the mods about this.

From here, it all goes downhill. Wivi was clearly upset, but that seems to be because they thought Gator was trying to impose their authority and didn't really ask us? Or at least that's what their last passive-aggressive message makes me think. I wish I knew more about this, but Wivi never approached the mod team to voice their concerns or to tell us they disagreed with us. In fact, Wivi didn't even ask Gator to change anything, they just expressed their disappointment on Gator's design choices. And they even said that they wouldn't have had any problem with the adopt if it had been a myo.

Right after, a certain user made a comment attacking Gator. For example, they say "it gives a VERY BAD image of the whole pacapillar mod group if they point it out something but you ended up judging it by yourself", implying that Gator just pretended to ask us and was abusing their mod position, but Gator DID ask us and voiced their concerns to us. They also complained that Gator doesn't do anything else besides "handling group submissions and uploading adopts" which was an unnecessary jab? They edited their comment afterwards to remove the bit about Gator's role as a mod, and then hid their comment after some time.

Let's make it clear we did not hear from Wivi from this point on, and that this issue was brought up in public, right on Gator's auction.

So right after this happened, somebody felt the need to drag this into csdrama?? For whatever reason, and y'all had 0 problems jumping to conclusions and had a great time attacking Gator and bringing up things that happened 5 years ago and such. That's really the kind of thing that makes me doubt it's worth it trying to reason with you. Not because someone made a mistake years ago means you can use it as an excuse to bully them and constantly bring it up on their face. People change, learn, and move on. It's as if someone brings up something stupid you said when you were a teenager and they somehow think it still represents you.

AND before you even bring up the problem (a PERSONAL, not Pacapillar problem) with Seabunneh: I did not want to bring it up on this blog and, just as it happens often, ended up having to show everything because people simply can't avoid bringing it up here (even if they are not the person to who the situation happened to) and then everyone starts making assumption and spreading false information. I don't mind you going and forming your own opinion, but at least base it on real things that you can prove? And even then, you had 0 right to harass SB and drag her through the mud over and over until it was simply too much for her to handle. I even had to come and ask you to stop harassing her because you don't know when to stop. NOT TO MENTION that it was simply unfair to her. I apologized to her because she didn't deserve any of this, and even if I thought the design was similar, that doesn't mean she willfully copied it, and choosing not to change it would have been okay. That's something I have learned after some time. Unless someone maliciously and deliberately copies you, it's better to just leave it be (or if it bothers you that much, contact the person privately but have in mind you can get a no for an answer) because the world doesn't revolve around your designs and coincidences happen all the time? You shouldn't be punished or harassed for not "trying hard enough" to design something.

Also, I think it's super unreasonable to expect ANYONE to memorize 2000+ designs just to make sure they don't ever make a paca remotely similar to someone else's?? Sorry but that's just straight up impossible and unfair to expect from anybody, even a mod.

Now, another thing that bothers me is that you think that somehow Gator's case is special and that if someone had made a design similar to Tori's or any of our mod's/artist's, we would be making a huge deal out of it. Allow me to inform you this is FAR from the first time we have to decide if two designs are too similar or not, and it has happened with designs that users made that are similar to Tori's or a mod's, but it's not a huge deal because inspiration and coincidences happen. You can see some of those in the imgur picture that some anon sent?

I once heard a phrase that, in a nutshell, says that as an authority you need to use your powers sensibly, and I think that stands true here. We are not going to make a shaming fest to point fingers at someone that made a design similar to someone else's, ESPECIALLY when we know that the person probably didn't mean to make a similar design. A lot of factors come into play when making these choices, and it is difficult at times. Tell the wrong person to change their design and you are suddenly a villain. Don't tell the person to change their design and you are also a villain.

If Wivi had a problem with our decision, they could totally have come and asked for us to reconsider? The problem was with her and not with the rest of her friends, so if she has an issue she can 100% come to us and say "hey, i still feel this way", and I wish they had, because then everyone and their mother wouldn't feel the need to speak for her and try to solve her issues by assuming a lot of things and bringing up irrelevant arguments to say why Gator is Satan and they don't deserve anything good in their lives at all.

#closedspecies #submission

7 notes · View notes

jordanjaeger · 7 years

Text

Marco Bott x Female Reader: Confessions Part 2

To Anon: So I was really upset about the original story I wrote for this getting deleted, but I was happy to find that I saved half of it in my notes on my phone (I’m so awesome, I know). I decided to rewrite the other half of the story because I really liked the idea of having a part 2 and I got inspired after I watched the AoT OVA Distress (that I somehow never knew about). I’m sorry this took so long but I wanted to fulfill your original request and give you something lengthy! Hope you like it!

Warning: NSFW!!!

After you and Marco had become official, word spread around fast. You two were the talk around base for almost an entire month. At first it was rather embarrassing, especially with people like Jean, Reiner and Connie boosting Marco up every time they saw him with you. They'd call out his name, whistle at you whenever you walked by, and constantly bug him about his new relationship.

"So, Marco," said Jean as he lead the last horse into one of the stables. "You and (Name) did the thing yet?" Marco looked at him, utterly confused at what Jean was referring to. Jean sighed at his innocent friend. "Y'know, have sex?” Marco gasped, shocked at how upfront Jean's question was. "W-what? No. I mean, we've only been dating for a couple months now," Marco said sheepishly. Jean scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, more like eight." "Really? It's been that long? Geeze, time sure does fly." Marco looked up towards the ceiling, trying to figure out where the time had gone. "Anyways, what's taking you so long?" asked Jean. He didn't care that he was being too personal with Marco. They were best friends. They told each other everything. Well, almost everything. Since you and Marco began to date, Marco started to hold back from telling Jean a lot of things regarding his relationship. No matter what Jean asked, or anybody for that matter, Marco's answer was always the same. He'd tell them the relationship was going just fine, and that you and him were stronger than ever. His friends would urge him for more details, but he always turned them down. He reminded them that a relationship was built off of trust, so what happens in the relationship, stays in the relationship. This angered Jean at first. It made him feel as though Marco couldn't trust him, which Marco kindly explained to him that it wasn't Jean's fault at all. He just respected you as a person. The secrets you both shared, the problems you underwent, Marco promised you he would keep them to himself. He only ever spoke about funny stories exchanged between the two of you. "What do you mean? We've been enjoying ourselves just fine," said Marco. "But don't you want to know what it feels like?" "I'm not in any rush." "You should be. Titans could attack at any moment now. You wouldn't want to go out without getting some would you?" Marco laughed. Despite Jean making some seriously valid points, he just couldn't allow himself to get worked up about something so irrelevant. Even though he'd be more than happy to make love to you one day, he wanted to do it when you were ready, not just him. "It's just.. (Name) and I, we've known each other since we were kids. I've always respected her for who she was, not for what she could give me. I guess what I'm trying to say is, until she's ready, then I'm perfectly fine with waiting." Marco stared at the wood floor covered in strands of hay. He smiled at the thought of you, until Jean slapped him upside his head to snap him out of his thoughts. "Screw that! Graduation is right around the corner! It’s the perfect opportunity!” Jean exclaimed. Marco rubbed his head. "I suppose. But—" "But nothing, Marco-ma-boy! You've got three more days to prepare yourself for graduation night! Because I'm gonna make sure my brother gets what he deserves!" "Huh? What do you mean?" Marco asked frantically. "Just what I said," Jean smirked. "Listen Jean, I already told you. Me and (Name) aren't rushing anything." "Yeah, but you can't tell me you haven't considered it. I mean, (Name)'s a pretty girl. She's got a cute smile, perfect skin, and oh, those nice legs of hers—" "That's enough!" Marco snapped, causing Jean to cease his inappropriate comments. Jean felt triumph at how his words found their way underneath Marco’s tough skin. It was rare for Marco to get upset. He was usually calm and collected most of the time. No matter if it was Commander Shadis screaming in his face, or Eren and Jean going at it, Marco always maintained his cool, except for when it came to you. "What's wrong, man? I'm just saying. A girl's got urges, too, y'know. And the longer you wait, the more she'll start to believe you're not into her, which in turn will make her feel insecure about herself. And you wouldn't want your precious (Name) to feel insecure from you putting off making her feel like a real woman now would you?" Jean's words penetrated straight through Marco’s previous objections.

Marco looked at Jean with eyes full of disbelief and worry. Jean was right, again. This whole time Marco thought he was doing right by suppressing the sexual urges he would get while with you. He didn't want to seem like he was pressuring you or make you feel like that’s all he wanted from you. He wanted to take things slow, go at whatever pace you felt comfortable with going. But now he wondered if that was the right thing to do. Could it be? Could him holding back his desire to make love to you have made you feel insecure? Could you, too, have been holding back your own sexual urges because of him not making a move? He hoped not. God he hoped not.

“You're right,” Marco agreed. He furrowed his brows as a wave of guilt swept over him."Tch, tell me something I don't know," retorted Jean.“Well what am I supposed to do?!” cried Marco. He looked up to meet his best friend’s eyes for an answer. “I mean, (Name) and I, we’ve been through so much together. She’s my best friend, my better half, and I respect her so much. I could never imagine hurting her or making her feel as if I didn’t like her, which, if I’m being completely honest here, it’s more than just a simple like..,” Marco’s words trailed off as he narrowed his eyes back down to the ground. Jean waited for him to finish, though he already knew what he was going to say next.

“It’s more than just a simple like,” Marco repeated himself. “I.. I love her.”

Silence fell between the two friends. Marco continued to stare at the ground as he processed everything he just said. He couldn't believe the words that just escaped from his mouth. Him actually loving someone this early on in his life? It seemed almost impossible just eight months ago. Man, time sure does change a lot of things.

Jean folded his arms across his chest and closed his eyes before letting out a heavy, almost frustrated sigh.

“Then why don’t you show her?” he asked. His voice was low and forceful, as if he hadn't been trying to tell Marco that all along.

Marco returned his attention back to Jean, whose golden eyes now burned into his brown ones. He contemplated Jean’s words thoroughly.

“I will,” he said finally, half confident, but still half scared out of his mind. Marco walked up to Jean and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Thanks, man.” He flashed Jean a half smile before heading out of the stables and back to headquarters.

“That's my boy,” Jean said to himself.

Damn it, Jean. I can't do this. I can't do this.

Marco paced back in forth in the hallway in front of the boy’s dorms, desperately trying to figure out if whether or not he should go through with Jean’s plan. Tonight was the night Marco had been planning for. After he and Jean’s discussion the other day, Marco finally made the decision that on graduation night, he would make love to you for the first time. He would show you how much he loved you by being your first, just as you would be his.

Marco knew he wanted this. He knew he loved you with every fiber of his being, but the real question was, did you love him? If you did, how much? Would it be enough to want to show him? He didn’t know for sure. All he could do was hope and pray that you wouldn’t deny him, that you would be just as open to the idea of taking things to the next level as he was. After all, you two had been dating for eight months, friends for several years. What was the worst that could happen?

Marco’s thoughts were interrupted when he heard footsteps approaching. He turned to look down the hallway only to find you running at full speed towards him. He tensed up, bracing himself for the impact of your arms wrapping around his neck while his circled around your waist to spin you around. But to his surprise, you made a different approach. You stopped running instantly and let your feet slide across the wooden floors. You busted a cowboy stance and shot Marco finger guns as your body came to a complete stop right in front of him.

“Hey there, baby cakes,” you greeted him with your best deep, country accent.Marco’s previous feelings of anxiety dispersed as he burst into laughter. You couldn’t hold yourself together at your own silliness so you joined him.

“You’re crazy,” Marco chuckled, his laughter calming down a bit. He smirked at you, then placed a hand on his hip and shot you the same finger gun.

“Hey there, cutie pie,” he returned the same accent, only his was much better due to his manly voice.

You giggled at his greeting and walked a little closer to wrap your arms around his neck, something you only did when few or no people were around to avoid the attention. The hallway was empty. The captains and commanders were all hiding out in their own building, while the rest of the newly graduated cadets were busy stuffing their faces with luxury food and getting drunk off of booze.

“So, what did my little MarMar want to talk to me about?” you asked lovingly. You tilted your head in attempts to make yourself look more cuter, which worked to your desire after you saw the blush forming on Marco’s cheeks.

“Well, um, I’ve been thinking,” Marco began. He could feel the anxiety returning to his body as he started to heat up with nervousness. This was it. This was the moment he had been planning for since his talk with Jean three days ago. No turning back now. Of course, he could chicken out and lie about what he really wanted, but then Jean would only nag him to death later on. Marco had no other choice. He shook his head to get rid of the negative thoughts flooding his mind, and brought himself back to reality.

“I just..,” Marco tried to formulate his words correctly, but they weren't lining up with what he previously practiced. So he did what he always did to calm himself down.

Just take a deep breath and relax.

Marco followed his own words of encouragement and inhaled a deep breath. Then, he exhaled slowly through his nostrils. He clasped his hands together around your waist and gazed into your big wondering eyes.

“(Name), I love you,” he said finally, his voice now empty of all shakiness and worry. If there was anything Marco was good at, it was pulling himself together and keeping calm no matter the situation. Your eyes widened at his answer. You felt your entire body heat up as your heart ran in circles and your stomach filled with butterflies.

“I.. you.. what?” You asked.

“I love you,” Marco repeated. He knew you weren't expecting him to say that, for neither of you had built up the courage to tell the other before.

“I love you, too, Marco,” you said, your eyes not leaving his. You could see his pupils dilate at the sound of your voice telling him those three beautiful words he so patiently waited to hear. He squeezed your waist a little tighter as he embraced you into one long hug.

“I'm so happy to hear you say that,” Marco whispered. He pulled away to take in another glimpse at the one thing he treasured most. Then, he closed the gap between you two and pressed his lips to yours.

You felt the butterflies inside your stomach turn into fireworks as you kissed him back. You tightened your arms around his neck to deepen the kiss. Marco bit down on your bottom lip gently and pulled it to ask for permission, which you kindly gave him. You both fought for dominance, but you were surprised when Marco didn’t back down like he usually did, causing a wave of arousal to overcome you.

Before you could even register what was about to happen next, Marco broke away from the kiss and kneeled down to pick you up by your legs. You straddled him around his waist and the two of you locked lips again. Marco carried you over to the boys dorm entrance, opening it quickly and kicking it shut after entering. The room was completely empty, as expected.Marco brought you over to his bed and lay you down slowly. His hands traveled from your legs to your waist.

“I love you so much,” he said in-between kisses.

“How much?” you asked as you continued to kiss him. You smiled playfully against his lips, waiting to see what he would say next.

Marco pulled away from you and stared into your eyes with pure lust.

“I’ll show you,” he whispered back, and immediately began attacking your jawline.

Your heart flip at Marco’s words. Did you hear him correctly? Was this a dream? No. This was the real thing. It was graduation night after all, what better way to celebrate the two of you becoming soldiers of humanity? Marco’s kisses trailed from your jawline to your neck. He nibbled and sucked on it, biting you tenderly. You ran your fingers through his dark hair as you felt the heat in your panties grow. You let out a small moan as Marco hit your sweet spot, causing Marco’s bulge to enlarge. You felt it twitch against your inner thigh and decided to return the favor by making him feel good. With your free hand, you reached for Marco’s member and grabbed it. It was big, to your surprise and excitement. You started to rub it slowly, and as a result earned a moan from Marco.

He reached for your blouse and began unbuttoning it. He glanced at you with every move he made to make sure that it was okay. You nodded, even going as far as helping get rid of the loose garment and saving Marco the trouble of unclasping your bra. You slipped it off and tossed it onto the floor. Marco took a moment to admire your naked upper body. He could remember your small, childish body as a kid, and was amazed at how beautifully you blossomed.

“Stop staring,” you told him as you covered your bare chest with your arms. You could feel your cheeks glowing red. Marco smiled at you and went for your arms. He removed them from your chest and pinned them down on the bed.

“You’re gorgeous,” he said as he lowered his body to suck on your nipple. He caressed it with his wet tongue, alternating between your breasts so as to make sure they both got equal amounts of attention.

You arched your back and moaned softly. You returned your hand back to his bulge and began rubbing it. Marco moaned against your chest, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. He took one of his hands and lifted up your skirt so that he could touch your soaked panties. He pressed his finger against your clit and began massaging it.

“Ah, Marco,” you murmured breathlessly. Marco took this as a sign that he was doing well and decided to pull your panties down and insert a finger. He was pleased to see your facial expression full of pure bliss, because the truth was, he had no idea what he was doing. He was going purely off of Jean’s advice, which to Marco’s great appreciation, was working out extremely well for him.

Marco paired his pointer finger with his middle finger inside of you and began to pump you a little faster. You wrapped your legs around his waist, unable to focus on pleasing him properly and just wanting him to go ahead and take you.

“Marco,” you breathed.

Marco’s pumping slowed as his eyes averted to yours.

“Yes, (Name)?”

“Please,” you whispered shakily. “Please take me.”

Marco removed his fingers from you. He stood on his knees and threw off his shirt, revealing his defined, freckled arms and toned body. Now it was your turn to admire him as he began working at his belt buckle and pants. He paused for a moment.

“Keep going,” you smirked.

Marco let out a hopeless chuckle and removed his pants and underwear, releasing his large, throbbing member that now stood at your full attention. You thought it was cute how even it was covered in faint freckles.

“You’re beautiful,” you cooed, mimicking him from before.

“Shut up,” he said jokingly as he returned to your lips.

You both made out for another few minutes as you rubbed at each other. You let out moans against each other’s lips until finally, Marco positioned his hardened member at your hole. He looked at you one last time for permission.

“Go ahead,” you advised him.He did as he was told and pushed himself inside of you, eliciting a sharp, painful scream from you losing your virginity.

“(Name)! Are you alright?” Marco asked, his voice and face full of concern. You nodded, clenching your fists onto the sheets and trying to adjust to his size.

“It’s alright, I’m alright,” you reassured him. “Go ahead.”

“But you’re in pain,” he reminded you.

“The sooner you start moving, the sooner the pain will go away,” you told him.

Marco waited one more moment before placing his forearms at the sides of your head and beginning to roll his hips slowly. He studied your face for signs of pain relief and was happy to see you relax as your pain transpired into pleasure.

“Faster,” you told him, wanting more. Marco obliged and started to thrust into you faster.

“Ah, shit,” you moaned, grabbing a hold of his shoulders. “God,” Marco grunted. “You’re so tight.” He tried to keep a steady pace but the overwhelming feeling of you around his weakness made him go crazy.

You looked up to meet his eyes. Who would have thought that Marco, the same little boy who cried near the riverbank after falling and scaping his knee as a child, would be the same man you would come to love today. Marco, the same little boy who stood up for you against the older bullies in your neighborhood, despite not being very intimidating himself, would be the same man who vowed to give his life for you today. Marco, the same boy you once referred to as just a friend, would be not only still be your best friend, but also become the love of your life today.

“Marco,” you said as you felt hot tears of happiness surfacing your eyeballs. You were beginning to feel emotional at this new shared experience between you and your freckled lover.

“I.. I think I’m about to come,” Marco warned, his thrusts getting harder, sloppier, and more desperate to release.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer to you. You wanted to make sure you felt every bit of him inside of you. Marco pounded you hard a few more times before his hot seed filled your insides.

“Oh, fuck,” he moaned out as he continued to thrust.

You felt your body contract and your toes curl as euphoria overcame you. Both you and Marco had hit your climaxes simultaneously.

“Oh, Marco!” you exclaimed. Marco grunted as he thrusted one last time and immediately collapsed on top of you. You felt his heartbeat began to slow against your chest, your arms still holding on to him tightly. You stared at the bottom of the bunk above Marco’s as you felt his arms slither around your waist.

“My sweet, Marco.”

#shingeki no kyojin #snk #attack on titan #aot #fanficition #marco bott

48 notes · View notes

actualghosstt · 6 years

Note

is to help others to make that choice. Me being gay has no impact on that, and OPC has caused me deep hurt, despair, and sadness on behalf of this policy. I hope you'll consider in engaging in dialogue with your fellow staff in order to help the case of people like me. As a Christian, you are called to recognize injustice and fight against it for those who want to follow Christ. I hope you recognize that.

Part 1: hey if you're not a homophobe (as ur posts suggest) why do you work for opc? why haven't you said anything about how unfair and inherently anti-christian a hateful policy like that is? while christians have differing views on marriage equality and gay and trans rights (which is fine!), it's not fair to enforce strict, homophobic beliefs at what's painted on the website to be a safe place --sincerely, a Gay who won't ever get to work for opc even though they've wanted to for years :)

Part 2: i don't mean to hate on you or be rude, and i understand if you just Really Love All The Other Parts Of Camp, but it's still deeply upsetting to me that this is happening in the first place and how directly in opposition w/ what Jesus would want this policy is, and how, despite the high amount of counsellors that did leave, successful dialogue and compromise on this issue has stalled

Part 3: I just feel so hated and unloved due to this policy. I didn't choose to be gay, but I chose to follow God I chose to believe that Jesus wants me to follow him as a disciple in this modern-day world. It's not fair that I should be blocked from the kind of ministry and service counselling at OPC entails due to something that I cannot control, and it upsets me that, again, all dialogue about this has stalled and that Inter-Varsity has taken a hardline stance against this.

Part 4: I realize now that my initial ask was rude, and I'm sorry. I'm just deeply upset about this, as I would love to work for Inter-Varsity, but could never sign something like that. Who I love and who I am as a Christian are not relevant to each other and are not in opposition with each other. Discussing sexuality in general with kids at camp is obviously a huge no-no, but the explicit wording of the policy towards anything gay-related at all and the lack of commentary on how to approach topics of

Part 5: ... heterosexuality. If the policy equally applied to deeply romantic / sexual conversations, I would be more willing to sign it, as I feel that sexuality should not be brought up in a forum with children, however, I deeply disagree with the fact that 'implying acceptance' of homosexuality is disallowed. If a child is confused or upset, are you supposed to tell them that God hates them? God doesn't hate anybody, and being gay is not a choice. Being a Christian is a choice, and all I want to do -

I would first like to start off by saying that I in no way put off answering this. I honestly saw these for the first time tonight when I felt the urge to actually log on and delete my accounts as I haven’t been using them in a very long time. I am glad that I did log in as I now get to address this point of conversation head on.

First and foremost I would just like to say that I am 100% pro LGBTQ. The way that I read into scripture growing up and one of the biggest things that I ever actually learned from OPC was to love and accept everyone no matter who they are. It is for this reason that my Christianity is the belief in love through Christ.

This being said, I never outright made any posts against the camp, nor spoke out about the topic or issue for a few reasons. The first mainly because despite being apart of the staff the year everything sort of blew up, I still didn’t know all of the information regarding the situation and loved the place I call a home too much to jump to a conclusion without knowing all the facts. I am perfectly aware now of the policies and how unfair it is. I am aware of the people who felt attacked because of it. And I am aware that the dialogue on the situation has been sort of hidden under stacks and stacks of paper waiting to be found again. The second reason is that I am not as courageous as I love to think I am, and I thought that if I didn’t proclaim which side I picked I could somehow aid the conversation by being some neutral character in the equation. I was wrong. Lastly, because no matter how I worded it or put it someone would be hurt. And I couldn’t even do that to the people who don’t agree with me strictly because that does not spread love.

The reason I returned to camp last summer was because I didn’t feel that through all this mess, the kids should be missing out. The only reason I became a leader there in the first place was because I wanted to give others the same amazing experience camp gave me. Somehow through the mess of it all, last summer the camp had some of the highest camper numbers it’s ever seen and the lowest amount of staff. They actually had to close applications because it was too full to run with so little staff. Every single senior staff member on the lake (myself included) worked about 5 different jobs including chalet leading just to make sure that the campers didn’t lose on the great experiences camp could offer. Camp is very dear to my heart and it pains me to see the kids like me missing out because the people who happen to own the camp can’t figure out the one thing OPC has been preaching for as long as I can remember.

I wish I knew who you were anon so I could understand the amount you actually know about me as a person, but as you’re a camp person I assume we interacted enough for you to get a general sense of my character. I could not, would not, and will never tell anyone that God hates them, despite what the training this past summer told me to do. I will never pull out a bible and preach at someone something I do not agree with because someone told me to. God is love. He loves everyone, and because of this I too must love everyone. Yes I signed a contract. Yes it is a hateful and stupid piece of paper that I wish to burn. But, I am aware that that piece of paper is placed into a box, placed into a storage unit thing, and in about 5 years that box with all that paper will be recycled. I am aware that that piece of paper will probably never see the light of day again. And I am also aware that it is only binding for the time I spend working (or should I say volunteering) at the camp. I signed it again this past summer because I decided that I could set my opinion about the situation aside for the sake of being there for the camper who didn’t know if they were safe there, for the camper who was confused, for the camper who needed someone to talk to when no one else would listen. Someone had to be there to tell them that they are loved.

so, anon. I hope this clears somethings up for you. I am deeply sorry for how the camp has treated you. It pains my heart to see so many people I love being hurt by this place we all shared, and I pray for you all to know that you are loved, and that God does love you.

- r.g.

ps. I also just wanted to say that I am not returning there again this summer as I can no longer place my opinion aside, nor sacrifice my time, energy for a place that will not compensate it’s workers fairly either.

0 notes