#maybe people will realise i just want to enjoy commissioning my art in peace

[freyjas-musings]

Based on the number of haters in this fandom I took some necessary( and hopeful) measures ... I am really desperate to have people not bother me with their asinine views .... this is supposed to ward off people with shitty energy i am hoping that includes jealous and ignorant fools . When all else fails we leave it to the universe

Anyways I desperately need a looooooong break from Tumblr ...

[spacegaywritings]

Communication of Silence - Chapter 12 “Spi(c)es 2″

Summary: Virgil runs into Patton at therapy. Turns out Patton, Virgil and Picani all know one another.

Tags: therapy, panic, anxiety, grounding techniques, a lot of stress for Virgil, miscommunication, apologies, soft logan, supportive patton, coffee mention, skin picking, fidgeting

ao3: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 12,5 / 13 / 14 + Tumblr: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 12,5 / 13 / 14 +

  My KoFi  - Support me ♥ or Commission me

 Story under the cut (Word count ~6k):

Virgil carefully stepped out of the room, legs a bit shaky and heart light.

Their mind was still trying to wrap around the that leaving this room was akin the world of hope and falling back into the pits of darkness. Knowledge a dagger in their hand to cut through every tendril of doubt and mishap that attempted to pull them into the abyss of despair once more. 

 Sometimes, talking was harder than they liked it to be but at least it was over. It equipped them with the right tools to figure themself out, to make life in the darkness better. At some point, they would find their light and banish every and all lingering piece of threatening shadows. 

Admittedly, they did feel better. Their body was just shook from all the feelings and shit. Battling your demons was a chore but winning them over was a privilege of knowing how to. Sometimes trial and error was enough.

Sometimes, people needed to dip into the confidentiality of a professional to master the art of negotiating peace with oneself. 

 Stupid feelings.

 Life was already hard enough. 

Living with toxic thinking was unnecessarily exhaustive. It felt like an extra punishment after every hardship people went through. 

 From all they knew, it was worth it. 

Going out, hands free and heart open was a blessing. Exploring the outside with an objective vision instead of spiking darkness at any corner of their mind.. it was.. it was a relief. 

Work came with it, sure, but what in life didn't come without a price? Virgil had already decided that therapy was annoying. But it was annoying and absolutely worth it. 

Ever time they stepped out of the care of their therapist, they knew their world was painted in new colours. Every time they opened their eyes to see new kindness and be surprised by a sudden brightness around them, they felt affirmed in their decision to stick with it and fight the battle of his own absurd thinking. 

The student ran their hands through purple hair and sighed once more.

It was over.

It was helpful.

They had done all that had been asked from them.

 Their shoulders were lighter and, as usual, life seemed a bit kinder than before. 

On top of that... 

A realisation nudged them and a smile appeared on their face.

Dee!

Within a split second, they already took their phone out and unlocked the screen with swift movements. Their eyes barely looked at the password as their fingers confirmed it and immediately clicked the messenger icon to contact Dee.

 By now, she should be done with work. Or at least soon. They shot a quick message to her. Just to make sure she was informed.

   *Conversation between Dee♥ and you.*

 Today.

 You, 3.51pm: Did your stupid therapy. Happy?

(sent)

  “Oh, Virgil. What on earth are you doing here?”

 A voice of genuine surprise banged against heir head and ripped them out of his comfortable thought bubble of being together with Dee by the next day. 

For now, the dream was squished back onto the bench. With drops of disappointment souring their mind for the moment. 

Instead, they were met with the rather neutral and beige office in which people were received for therapy.

 Reality.

 Before them, the familiar sigh of a certain walking hug made their spiking heartbeat calm down and refrain from thumping up their throat.

 “P-patton?”, they asked in a small voice, their question coming out as a startled squeaking more than anything at this point.

They sounded unusually quiet and insecure compared to how Patton perceived them during the last days. It reminded him an odd amount of when they had met for the first time and Virgil had resembled a scared, abandoned kitten in the streets that was met with a stranger’s warm hands for the first time.

 Virgil swallowed their dumb question away and shrugged the obvious answer into their conversation.

 “I, u.. I could ask you the same. You came for an appointment?”

 Patton chuckled and shook his head, his ginger candy strands of hair flying wildly and eventually nestling against his pale skin once more.

He looked like a little pastel prince of the kindness and forgiveness kingdom. 

 “Aw, no kiddo. I do not go to therapy, I am learning how to provide for other people. I am working with Dr. Picani for my master’s thesis. I only came by to drop something for him at the reception.”

 As if on cue, the leading therapist in question stormed out of his office and waved at Patton. If Emile had been a life guard this would have meant the worst of all cases. But what did frantic waving stand for at the therapist's? 

 “Patton, wait a min-”

 His outcry was interrupted as he finally made his way over to the two talking students. Apparently, his mind took a while to comprehend the view before him as well as the fact that he was still in the middle of a sentence.

 “Oh Virgil, how come you are here today?”

 The emphasis on the last word was the core of his question. 

There was no wonder about them being there at all. 

Virgil shuffled their shoes and looked down to be met with the sight of one green and one purple shoe. The green one had leaves and bamboo sticks drawn all over it in a darker shade of green - much like the forest's rich leaves during midsummer. The purple one had a little galaxy-like image on the inside of where their ankle should be. Rain showers of white suns and blue glimmers adorned the little piece of space. 

They had drawn it on their own after dyeing their godforsaken, old-as-balls shoes. Kyle had inspired them to fix them up with some nifty drawings. Now they looked admirably special and were worth being desired greatly. 

 “Emergency session”, they said, shrugging, “I am all good, now. Promise, Em.”

 They did not realise the slight frown weighing Patton’s candybrows down just the slightest bit. Within just a moment, the shadow of doubt was gone and he decided to take the lead of the conversation.

 The confusion still left an imprint on the back of his mind. He had never heard anyone talk so intimately to Emile. It was not his business but a part of him wondered, how Virgil and Picani knew each other. 

Curiosity was indeed a human vice. 

But.. pet names like this were usually not exactly a therapy-client relationship.

Not his business, he reminded himself with waning patience. 

 “Anyway, what did you want from me? I can be right on my way and let you two catch up after you told me.”

 Emile’s face lightened up in realisation and he revealed a rather familiar sports bag Virgil had seen on him before. It was Patton’s and he had seen him return from his night shifts with this. 

Did he have another shift right now? All the more reason to consider Ri's offer. 

 “You forgot your bag when you dropped your scripts over here. Thank you for not being cranky about me being so busy - I was just on a call right now and couldn't delay it. ”

 It was Virgil’s turn to move their face, one single eyebrow arching up for just a moment.

Emile evidently avoided looking at them as he spoke these words. That bastard totally hid something. 

 A call.. hmm. 

 Patton noticed the change with a little pat to his heart but he took a deep breath to shift his attention back to the topic at hand.

It wasn't his business, no matter how tempting and curious it seemed to be. If any of them wanted to talk, they would decide that. Not he. 

 “Ah, yes. Thank you so much. I was on the way home now. Virgil, do you want me to wait for you and take you with me?”

 Oh holy fucking shit.

Virgil bit their lip and looked at the tallest of the three, an undefinable tension in their eyes. Not once before had Patton seen a look of trouble like that before. Not from the usually either shy and cautious kitten or the straight up fierce tiger that was the smaller punk. 

 “I-...”

 Their mouth simply stood open and they blinked at Patton as if he had just asked them to choose between two of his dearest friends - one would be lost forever and never to be met or befriended again, while the other one was ensured to stay around by force of magic and the supernatural law of weird situations and horrible choices forced onto people.

 No one would take a decision as that lightly. 

The small student just shrugged but before they could even open their mouth to speak up again, Emile was audibly gasping.

 “No way, you two are living together! This is amazing! I never knew! Look at you two making a great duo! I bet you are getting along so well!”

 At once, a warmth settled on Patton’s face and his head moved to a nod while Virgil shrugged and stole a single glance at the giant.

Their cheeks grew warm and redder.

 “Guess‘s not so bad”

 Virgil grimaced but the soft laugh from Patton and affirming “you are lovely to cook with”, let their lips move from awkward grin to a genuine, lop-sided smile.

 The doctor in pastel pink and beige brown was producing an air of warmth.

 “I am sure you are a team, better than Jessie and James!"

  Patton gave the comment a little chuckle and Virgil shook their head yet a smile was still visible on their face.

They would never be able to deny just how much they relished in the simplicity of these jokes making any situation less awkward. If it was not for any other person, Virgil knew that the ginger giant from candyland was definitely the person at fault for them enjoying stupid puns so much.

 He just strategically used them so well in any situation. It was like the right tool to disarm any bomb about to explode and he did it without breaking a sweat.

Emile was just silly - a little less cunning and definitely more upfront about negative vibes.

 Maybe it was because he was older and knew to address certain issues. Perhaps Patton just wanted to keep peace?

 They were overthinking.

They had to stop.

Now.

 Before Virgil could go on a mental rant to yell at themself for still ruminating over it and possibly kicking themself into disliking Patton, an all-too familiar sound came up. The sound that appeared whenever “Law and Order” switched between scenes or skipped time or anything.

 Virgil jolted a bit but reacted fast.

 “Holy snowflake, this was sudden”, Patton exclaimed with little breath left in his lungs and an assuring hand over his heart to calm his nerves.

The sound had been quite loud and he felt like he had heart it before.

 All the while, a grin was spread all over Virgil’s face and the awkward student forgot about their thoughts and worries for a bit. Even the current situation and conundrum seemed to have disappeared.

They typed away fast, a little mumble escaping their curved lips without them noticing.

  *Conversation between Dee♥ and you.*

 Today.

 You, 3.51pm: Did your stupid therapy. Happy?

(sent)

 Dee♥, 4.00 pm: I am killing it and I sincerely hope you did too. *snake emoji* *smirk emoji*

 Dee♥, 4.00 pm: Anyway, how are you holding up darling? Did the cartoon enthusiast catch you in time?

 You, 4.00 pm: Next to him.

You, 4.01 pm: Patton is here. Fucking kill me.

You, 4.01 pm: He asked to bring me home but I thought about going to Ri. Em could easily take me.

(sent)

  The response was a quick “yikes” but his attention was drawn back into the conversation before they got to message back.

The phone was rattling with another sudden sound but Virgil took the second flinch from Patton and turned off the sound.

 “Sorry”

 Emile shook his head quickly, a little smile painting his patient features and Virgil felt already hugged and pleasantly scolded like from a caring parent.

It was an odd feeling.

 “Remember to not apologise for yourself. You had your reasons to reply. I hope she is doing well - I assume it is the loyal Sapphire to your own Ruby self.”

 Patton’s spirits returned. His freckled face was beaming and he quickly hugged his bag against himself.

 “Aw, how adorable! I never thought of you in this way! Emile, how dare you give me this gem of feelings”

 He winked and Emile winked back.

 OOF.

 Virgil’s groan could be heard in the far distance of edgy teenager land while the adults were giggling at one another like little schoolgirls. It was oddly adorable.

Seeing Patton laughing was another level of comforting.

 “Uh, yeah.. talking about gem and shit”

 Wow, what a horrible start Virgil - wait. No. It was an okay start. Just a start. They would not mind and if they did, who cared. It was just a st- just a sentence.

Yeah.

 “I might get my gem ass over to Ri and sleepover because, uh, yeah. I think he would be happy to have me around tonight.”

 Virgil looked down at their shoes and shrugged. A part of their mind was still wildly roaring and telling them that this was a horrible sentence and how Patton would hate them now and despise them for everything.

And Emile? Maybe he would be jealous or get upset at them upsetting Patt-

 No. No

Stupid thoughts.

Bullshit thoughts.

They went to therapy to not have any of these thoughts anymore.

It was bullshit, anxiety was just being some overdramatic shit and it was a help to nobody so it was time to fucking stop the fuck now.

 They shrugged again and looked to the side before back at Patton.

 “Sor- I mean.. thank, uh.. thanks for offering a ride but I think I will go to my family and make sure they know I am okay and shit. I uh... they worry, you know.”

 Virgil offered a little smile. The pang of guilt jotted into their mouth and made it harder to smile but the lips stayed into position despite their little trembles and struggles to stay still.

 With a the eyes of a man who mirrored Virgil, Patton nodded at the remark.

 “I am glad to hear they care about you and.. and that you care about them, kiddo. I am sure they will be happy to have you around”, he started and stopped for a moment, his lips rolling together and his tongue parting them as if to spread the taste of his upcoming words on them.

He was contemplating about whether or not he should let them go beyond his tongue.

 After a small pause, the decision was made.

 “You don’t have to be scared of being with us. I am happy to see you and I honestly think Logan couldn’t be happier but to have found a friend like you.”

 Virgil looked at him, wide-eyed.

Shock short-circuited their brain and ruled over their reason for long enough to override the anxious filter that would usually prevent words like that to pass his lips.

 “You- you mean you are notmadwearefriends?”

 The emo stepped closer to Emile and reached out for him, only to be gladly received by his welcoming chest and arms.

 Patton blinked back, pressing his tongue against his gums to swallow his amusement at how absurd the other sounded. It was much better than to succumb to the bitter after-taste of an idea about why the other was so concerned. Instead, he helped himself and his smaller friend to the truce of another peaceful smile.

A smile so outwardly kind and warming, it could only come from a giant that served unexpected kindness instead of crushing dreams and bones.

 “Virgil, kiddo, we are friends too. I would never get upset at you over something so silly. I want my friends to be happy and you and Logan are happy together, even if you don’t always fully agree with one another.”

 The last part smelled like Logan talking about last night but Virgil stopped themself from boarding the panic train.

Patton wanted them to know it was okay. He was not mad.

 They were friends.

  Virgil carefully squeezed their arms around Emile for a bit longer. It was almost as if they tried reassuring someone else in order to make convince themself.

Projection, as Emile would call it.

 ...Actually, Patton would say the same.

Psychology nerds everywhere.

 There were also feelings everywhere. They were like bubbles filled with different-coloured things that were fizzy or sizzling or gas-like and so on. Somehow, all these bubbles around Virgil did not feel pressing anymore. They squeezed them in a bit but it was cozy, in a weird way. Warmth and pink was around them.

It was innocent and .. trustworthy.

 For once, there were no red flags. Wind glided over the pastel coloured banners of a relationship so novel and refreshing to Virgil.

It was still difficult to see and process.

Maybe one day, they would see these banners and identify them as a welcoming sign of hospitality and open arms. New ones but still arms stretched out to happily receive them.

 “thanks...”

 They slowly blinked at Patton who returned the little gesture with another soft rise of his lips’ corners.

Emile gently shielded the smaller person and mumbled something to which Virgil nodded again.

 Patton accepted being the outside with silent patience like a good professional.

 The punk softly rubbed their eyes. Only now, the ginger giant noticed how swollen and reddish they seemed again.

It reminded him of just they day before when they ate together.

He squinted ever so slightly, his eyes focusing on the little detail and eating it up with the information-hungry mind.

 His thoughts wanted answers and every bit of piety seemed to feel heavy on Patton’s large form when.

These large bags of darkness under their eyes seemed to hide more than several hours of missing sleep a night. It was nothing new to Patton to consider but it was then, that he realised how tangible the issue was yet how far away at the same time.

 “Uh-ehem”

 Virgil cleared heir throat and straightened their posture.

 “We are pretty much just barricading my therapist, you know”, they remarked with a slightest hint of a backbone in their words once more..

The silver tongue was back and it was sharp and sturdy as always. The sound immediately prompted Emile to react and lead them over to a corner. A heavy weapon in any battle of wits was back in place and ready to strike. Slowly, it sneaked back into the conversation and even the little smirk was blowing itself onto Virgil’s lips.

Lopsided, subtle and feisty.

 It really was inappropriate to just stand in the middle of the way. What were the three thinking?

 “Uhh.. Anyway, I think I will.. uh.. hitch a hike with you, Em - if that is okay”, they started and shrugged the slight slouch off their shoulders with a deep breath.

At once, the hesitation and doubt seemed banished from the conversation. Virgil looked tall and proud as never before.

 Honestly, the ginger student felt surprised by the sudden change.

He would never cease to be surprised by them.

 “Aw, sure thing, Virgil! You know, you always have a place by my side if you let me drive...”

 Virgil’s eyes widened and Patton felt something tickle him like when your nose tickled before a sneeze. He sensed something.. something good being about to happen.

 “..my van into your heart”, Emile finished.

 The emo groaned loudly, immediately followed by a loud chuckle from them. Their shoulders slouched a bit and they curled into themself a bit.

 “How about you drive yourself back into your work and I am gonna go and get some coffee for bribe”, they offered, “Patton, you coming?”

 The two got together and walked to the closest café in comfortable silence. Every now and then Virgil glanced at their phone, fidgeting around and looking more and more before putting it away for a while to repeat the cycle.

 Cars rolled down the cold streets and every breath evaporated into small clouds of fog. A few stray pigeons flew away when the dyad closed in on them in their curious search for anything edible.

The sun was already setting and bathing the city in a few rays of warm light. Orange and pink painted the scene but only in the rare areas the bigger buildings could not reach to block the light from.

 Virgil’s heavy boots hit the ground with every step while Patton’s own mode of walking mimicked graceful dancing. He was nearly hopping and floating over the dark concrete in the light of dawn. It was a show of beauty to see him.

 The two got a cup holder equipped with several cups of coffees and other hot drinks. They walked back but this time, the silence was swallowed by Virgil’s itching concerns. Their fidgeting got more intense and their fingers started picking at one another so much, the punk felt the plead to ask Patton for assistance on their tongue.

It was difficult, near impossible to erratically scratch and pick at something occupied by the deed to hold the cup holder with multiple scalding drinks.

They gave up on the nervous endeavour of deliberate self-harm when they realised the urge to just do it so intensely they would require support of some sort, they became aware of what exactly they were doing.

 This had to end.

 Despite their fingers tingling to scrape and pick and rip more, they refused to give in. They stopped before the building they had just come out of, Virgil cutting before their friend.

A jumbled bunch of letters flew from their lips in an oddly shushed mumble.

 “P-Patt’n?”

 They shuffled their feet a bit, looking down at them. If Patton had to draw Virgil, he would draw them in this position: shoulders slouching, gaze averted and skin vibrating in some vigilance of a distance threat.

It justified the name and behaviour Virgil usually displayed.

As they stood there, shifted from one leg to the other, boots squeaking as they were moved and squished together every now and then, Patton got the familiar urge to hug them while Virgil felt the intense wanton to throw themself into his arms. After all, the ginger giant was still a walking “hug me” sign, a fluffy one on top of that.

 “Yes, Virgil?”

 Patton’s voice was as light as a snowflake as he spoke with the world’s depot of patience in his little response.

It was a verbal touch to Virgil’s curiously fingers. They had taken to tightly grip onto the grey cup holder with one hand on left and right each. Busy thumbs brushed over the rough material and rubbed against it as if to dig for a treasure that did not exist.

 “I.. d-do.. do you think, um..”, they started but broke off, lost eyes roaming over the dark concrete. The darkness started creeping into the day and establish the night’s dominance for a few more hours than usual.

“Do you think.. L-Logan is.. is mad at me?”

 Glass green eyes grew wide as a pool of darkness shrunk in horror.

 “Oh, honey - Virgil! Logan would never!”

 He kept himself from saying more, swallowed the indignation. It was time to be composed and be a good friend and not get upset over something irrational. This was Virgil’s anxiety speaking, not their trust or rational mind, it was pure hurt and bad past experience poisoning a good relationship.

 “Listen, Logan and I are best friends and he has not once in his life complained about you, not to me, and he tells me everything. He trusts you and you are good for him. He is changing for the better and becoming more open and warm with you around, Virgil, I am not just saying this to make you happy. It really is happening. If he was upset, I am sure he would have asked me for advice or told me something and he did none of that. He asked me how to help you become more comfortable with us without pushing you - really.”

 Patton shifted and started to dig into his pocket to pull out a phone and present the referred to chat logs.

Warm brown eyes tentatively glanced over the messages for signal words, for red flags or similar things to warrant as an evidence for their anxiety to prove its point but there was none.

Black on weird whatever colour they were too blown-away to name at this moment showed how wrong their thinking had been once again. Just a stupid anxiety thing again, not even remotely warranted at all.

 “Th...thanks”

 They pursed their lips up as if to continue but hesitated enough to just go with the flow of not speaking any further, leaving the word awkwardly hang between Patton and him. Bottle green eyes blinked at them, smiling like an encouraging elementary teacher trying to cheer up a child whose drawing had been referred to as “dumb” by some uncultured swines - uh... other children with a bit more hostility.

 “I, um..”, they picked up again, eyes casting downwards bnefore blinking and glancing up at him again, “I needed that. Thanks. It is just, um.. stupid anxiety brain and all.. it just makes me dumb again, or like.. I mean, I uh.. I am not dumb or anything but I just believe the dumb anxiety and that sucks but, like, whatever, right? Can’t deny he is, um, like.. I don’t know, .. not hating me or whatever.”

They clawed at the cup holder.

“Patton, j-”

 A sudden g-note hit the air, punching a conditioned smile of fight and solidarity into Virgil’s face.

 “PA-PattoN, it is-is him! Ah - um”

 Confused jumbles of words pushed through their lips.

No sense was made in the process of this reaction.

The ginger did not understand but he readily perked up in interested, nodding.

 “It is okay, it is okay. You are safe and he is probably just curious whether you are okay. Breathe in, take a really deep breath - “

 Virgil nodded obediently. Their fingers clung to the rough cup holder. The emo’s chest rose a substantial amount before standing still while Patton counted and nodded with nice smiles. They slowly exhaled after a “seven!” and clear nod.

 “Give me the cups and take the call, kiddo. I will go and tell Emile you will be ready after the phone call.”

Hasty eyes met him which he returned with a patient nod not even the ideal monk could have provided. Virgil slowly let go of the rough texture, Patton’s gentle tugs reminding them of letting go. Fingers gradually untangled from the cloud-grey piece of recycled trash and forced a tentative nodding movement onto their head.

 They could do that. They could do that.

“Welcome to the Black Parade” was still playing and the song was nearly over. They had to take it!

This novel thought struck his mind like actual thunder. At once, fingers dug into their pockets and picked up even before their ear was close enough.

 Virgil did not know how Patton knew the song was the personalised ringtone for Logan but they appreciated how exceptionally witty the harmless pastel hulk was. A flick of their wrist goodbye’d Patton while their other hand reached their thirsty ear.

 “Hh-heyh!”

 Awfuckfuck, no he fucked up - no, they did! Now they fucked up hard enough to even fuck up their own pronouns. What a trash-

 “Greetings, Virgil. I hope you are well.”

 Ah. Smooth. Calm.

Logan was the epitome of steadiness.

The composed expression and usual greeting gave Virgil a sense of control. They knew what was about to come: small-talk because Logan thought it helped in social relationships, then some talk about work to elaborate on the things they had in common and eventually a random fact he learned that day or something equally surprising and possibly useless. At least it was something that least them unknown as to what to do with the information but it was not bad at all.

To be honest, they looked forward to it. So much even, their anxiety could not influence the smile of relief taking over their rosy lips.

 “Totally. What about you? Work sucked ass today?”

 “Virgil, work cannot actively do anything, especially not engage in any deed as interactive as acts of adult intimacy -”

 “Wow there, pocket protector. Too early a day to give me so many fancy things to listen to. Anyway, how are you doing?”

 Their lips were curled up completely by now. It was a full smile, if not already a grin preparing for the obligatory hilarious thing about to happen. Like it was some kind of scripted exchange between them.

With Logan being included, maybe it was.

 “I am doing just fine, only wondering about your well-being. Did you get a sufficient quantity and quality of sleep last night?”

 Oh. Right to the point. But speaking of it...

 “I, uh.. I am sorry. I - I was being a butt, um..”

 Virgil touched their clothed elbow of the arm holding the phone. Their fingers scraped and tugged at the fabric. Brushing, pulling, picking. The soothing feeling of a warm jacket covering them and protecting him was barely enough.

 4 - 7 - 8, they reminded themself.

A nod.

Yes, do the breathing thing and focus on Logan.

 “I am surprised to hear you apologise, Virgil. To be frank, I neither expected nor wanted an apology for overstepping any boundaries. If you are uncomfortable with me asking too many questions, you are more than welcome to “tell me off”.”

 A short break.

Insecure breaths in.

Four seconds.

 “Is this the right use of this term? I suppose, so. You are also welcome to correct me, if need be. You should know this but I am willing to remind you of my consistency. However, back to the topic.”

 Shaky holding back of nervous oxygen. Seven seconds.

 “I am not upset with you at all. Rather, I would say I am... concerned. When I started talking about this subject, my primary objective was to work out your issues in order to help you feel more comfortable. I got the .. the feeling you might need more, um, emotional support, if I may say so.”

 Painfully slow release of revolting oxygen for eight seconds.

 The voice on the other side became more uncoordinated, shooting past any aim. Logan cleared his throat to fill the silence as Virgil silently breathed themself into a greater sense of stability and safety.

 “Apologies. I started rambling again and even brought up these uncomfortable topics. All I wanted to convey is that I have a, so to speak, liiiht proposal to make to you. That being said, I might add this proposal does not include any rings or marriage-related preparation rituals. I am just saying this for clarification, not because I suspect you might assume this. I - ... Virgil, are you still there? Am I “talking your ears off”, as Roman says?”

 The small punk heard an odd sound from Logan’s side of the line. They blinked at it, a few wrinkles falling into his skin as he frowned in confusion.

 “Uh, hey, chill, dude”, their dark voice replied, “I, er, I am fine and all and you don’t have to do anything for me, anyway. It is cool, cool. Really cool. I, um, told you I won’t be home tonight? I have this thing going on, was planned before and all.”

 Virgil shrugged into the air for nobody else but uninvolved strangers to see.

 “But, um, don’t worry. I am, like, not mad or anything. I am.. glad? Like, I know I was being a bitch but that does not matter. I.. we are both sorry and that is really cool and.. just, ..just re-really thanks for being so nice about that and respect me and this. I just don’t wanna fuck up things and I know I am being sensitive and all. Uh, yeah..”

 They scratched the back of their head.

 “Any-”

Virgil started at the same time as Logan’s voice pronouncing “So, -” was transmitted to his side of the call.

The punk chuckled silently. A mere moment later, a sigh of relief could be heard. Virgil could have sworn even his hear was sighing with Logan.

 “You go first, Log.”

 If anyone had been around to see Logan at the bus stop, they would have witnessed a certain sparkling sensation behind his serious glasses as he made out the nickname Virgil added.

 “Thank you, Virgil, I appreciate that - appreciate you.”

 The words felt so much heavier than they should have been. They were voluminous gem stones on their chest. Prominent and eye-catching whilst sparkling and somewhat enticing with richness and depth of colour.

On the inside, Virgil knew they would wear Logan’s feelings on their chest, face or simply in their heart if the other would just ask them to.

 “Do you want to watch the stars with me? Tonight, I mean - say two hours, perhaps. It would just be you and me. I will take the car and get you if need be. Our university’s Astrology Club has a big telescope and great WiFi. I thought you might be interested but if you are pre-occupied, I understand.”

 Virgil absorbed the information, inhaling the connection and heartfelt consideration Logan has put into the consideration.

 “I-.. Logan, do- do you mean this as, uh.. as a date? Cuz, like, I don’t know if you do but it is cool if you do and I am not pissed or something, just want to know.”

 Another odd sound could be heard from the other side but Virgil was too caught up in anticipation to question the nature of the sound or the vibration in Logan’s breath suddenly hitting the microphone.

 “If this does not disrupt whatever your nature of relationship you enjoy with Declyn, then I would love to call it a date. With your consent only, of course.”

 Virgil’s heart did a leap. They drew in a hasty potion of oxygen as if to drink it up like the tasty juice of love.

 “I would love to. Text me the details, I will see about the car thing.”

 They hung up and ran up to Emile, taking two steps at a time. Now they had a certain skip to their steps but they also had a certain beat in their heart when they hitched a hike to their sibling in enthusiastic anticipation.

 Maybe this day could be great after all.

[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: Pure (7/14)

Summary: Belle wanted to wait until marriage before she had sex for the first time. It was the one thing that still stuck in her mind after leaving her small town upbringing steeped in religious doctrine and abstinence culture. When her wedding night comes, however, the purity ideals of Storybrooke’s sex education are hard to shake off, and making the transition from virgin to sexually active is more difficult than she anticipated. With the help of a patient husband, Belle begins an intimate journey into understanding her body, her desires, and her identity as a woman.

Rated: E

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[One] [Two] [Three] [Four] [Five] [Six] [AO3]

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Pure

Seven

If anyone had asked him, Gold would have said that he was both amazed by and extremely proud of how far Belle had come since their wedding. Although she still had a tendency to overthink things, she was ultimately curious and eager to learn. Whilst they were never going to be the most athletic of couples in the bedroom, she was still open to experimentation, and Gold was hoping that he would be able to take things a little bit further tonight.

He really wanted Belle to feel the glorious release of an orgasm, even though she’d said that she was happy as she was, he felt that she was missing out. So, he had a plan. Hopefully, Belle would be amenable to it. And if she wasn’t, well, he could put it away until another time.

“Gold. Gold! Earth calling Gold!” Jefferson waved a hand in front of his face and Gold snapped back into the room.

“Sorry,” he muttered gruffly, somewhat annoyed at being pulled out of his daydream so suddenly. “Miles away.”

“Hardly.” Jefferson raised an eyebrow. “From the looks of things, you’re about three blocks away in the library with Belle.”

Gold just glowered at him and returned to the intricate workings of the clock he had just taken apart to clean. Going into business with Jefferson had seemed like a great idea at the time, what with Gold’s knowledge of antiques and Jefferson’s mental encyclopaedia of vintage clothes and hats. They had made a nigh unstoppable team. Unfortunately, one of the drawbacks was that Jefferson could almost always tell what he was thinking. The man had turned it into an art form.

“Speaking of Belle, though, how is she? I haven’t seen her since the wedding. You two should come over for dinner some time; unless you’re still so stuck in your honeymoon period that to do so would scar Grace for life over the dining table.”

“Jefferson, please!”

“What, it’s not like we’ve got any customers at the moment.”

Gold just continued to glare at him until Jefferson chuckled and went back to his own work. Peace and quiet reigned supreme for all of five minutes before Jefferson spoke again.

“No offence to Belle’s hometown, but I can quite see why she moved out when she did. That place gives me the creeps. Too many nuns. I swear that there should never be that many nuns gathered in one place. Did you know that the collective noun for a group of nuns is a superfluity?”

“Storybrooke certainly does have a superfluity of nuns,” Gold agreed. What was more concerning than their numbers was the way that their word appeared to be law in the town, and how far reaching their views were.

“I mean, how do they get so many? It’s not like they breed by conventional means. Do you think they have a cloning machine under the convent or something?”

Gold had to laugh at the image, although he knew the reason. In a place like Storybrooke, where virginity seemed to be prized above all else, the nuns were lauded as paragons of purity. Obviously, there was a steady stream of Storybrooke’s young women seeking to earn that same respect and join the upper echelons of the town’s society, even if it meant giving up so much in return.

He had never been so glad that Belle had been able to get out whilst she could, that her naturally inquisitive side had led her to seek out a life beyond being a bride of Christ.

Their talk thankfully turned away from Storybrooke and nuns then, but a small part of Gold remained concerned. Whenever he and Belle went to bed together, something in the back of his mind was always preparing for Belle to freak out and shy away, despite the vast progress that she had made over the past few weeks. For all he had taught her, he was still not fully confident of his ability to put her mind at ease and the ghosts of her past to rest. Sometimes, when she was in one of her overthinking modes, it was hard to remember that he was not the cause of her hesitation and indecision. For all teaching her and watching her come into her own had been something of a confidence boost for him, there was something at the opposite end of the scale that always made him doubt himself, even if he knew that there was no reason for it, that the fault lay with neither him nor Belle.

It wasn’t something that he could discuss with Belle because she simply didn’t have the experience to be able to understand what he was feeling, and since the bedroom was one thing that he had always shied away from talking to Jefferson about, even before Belle, there wasn’t really much scope there, either.

Still, Jefferson’s suggestion of dinner was a good one; he and Belle got along well, and it would be nice for them to see each other again, and for Belle to see Grace. She’d always had a soft spot for Jefferson’s daughter, and watching them interact told Gold that if he and Belle ever had children of their own, she would be a wonderful mother.

“Actually, Jefferson, I think dinner would be lovely.”

“Pardon sorry what now?” Jefferson looked confused for a few seconds until he caught up. “Oh yes, the invitation. Only you can go back to something we were talking about ten minutes ago and expect me to follow your train of thought.”

“Jeff, I’ve long been of the opinion that you are in fact telepathic, if anyone can follow my train of thought, you can.”

“No, your brain’s a beast unto itself. Anyway, enough of that, you’re both very welcome as long as you keep your hands where I can see them at all times.” Here Gold rolled his eyes. “Is tonight good for you?”

A few text messages back and forth with Belle, and the date was set. Gold only realised after the fact that this would be the first time that Belle would be seeing Jefferson after the whole vintage Mustang analogy, but he trusted that it would all go off without a hitch. Otherwise Belle would be blushing like a tomato and giggling at inappropriate moments. Not that there were really any inappropriate moments for laughter when Jefferson was around; the man was a walking positivity machine.

Thankfully the car was not parked outside when they arrived that evening, and Belle was showing no signs of unease. It had been one of her big fears, that once she was no longer a virgin, people would see her differently, but since Jefferson had never known that she was a virgin before her marriage in the first place, there was nothing to fear in that respect.

Grace opened the door for them and waved them inside, dragging Belle off to enthuse about her wedding dress and get all of the gossip from the wedding. Jefferson had spent the entire time taking thousands of photographs, but it was no substitute to hearing about things straight from the horse’s mouth. Grace was in a princess phase at the moment, re-enacting royal weddings with her Barbie dolls left, right and centre. One of the advantages to having a tailor for a father was an almost never-ending supply of new dolls’ clothes to all specifications. Apparently, her latest commission was a miniature version of Belle’s own wedding gown.

Despite the good food, wine, and company, Gold couldn’t help being somewhat distracted throughout the evening. His earlier conviction was still clear in his mind, and matters weren’t helped in the slightest by the fact that Belle looked utterly ravishing today. She was dressed in the same bright green dress that she’d worn at the library all day, a black cardigan over her shoulders and her hair loose and curling around her face, but there was something about her that made Gold’s stomach somersault and his heart pound. Maybe it was the fact that when she leaned forward, the button placket of her dress gaped open a little and he could see the pale blue lace bra beneath, just a brief glimpse of the forbidden.

“You’re in dreamland again,” Jefferson said conversationally after Belle had been dragged from the table by Grace again to assist in the plastic re-enactment of her own wedding. “Thinking about having one of your own?”

“Maybe in the future. Not yet. I mean, I’ve got Neal, after all. Maybe I’m too old to be a father again.”

“You’ve only just hit fifty, Gold. There’s life in the old dog yet.”

Gold didn’t reply. He and Belle had discussed having children at various points throughout their relationship, but he had never confided those fears about his age to her. He had been so stunned that she’d chosen him in the first place, and then agreed to marry him, that he hadn’t wanted to rock the boat in that respect and make her wonder if perhaps her choice had been a wrong one.

He kept telling himself that they had time to think about it; that they needed to enjoy being just a couple before they welcomed a baby into their home. Belle certainly had enough on her plate to worry about, and she had already come so far towards shedding the long-indoctrinated notions that sex was for the purposes of making a baby and nothing else. He didn’t want to undo all of her hard work. Not yet. Not until after tonight, at least.

X

“Are you plotting something, Aiden?”

“Pardon?” Half-undressed, Gold whirled round on hearing Belle’s playful voice. She was sitting at her dressing table, taking off her jewellery, and there was a sly little smile on her face in the mirror. She turned to look at him properly.

“You’ve been wearing a little grin all evening; I noticed it even before we got to Jefferson’s. I thought that maybe you and he were in cahoots about something, but nothing happened whilst we were there. It looks like you’ve got a plan.”

“I have,” Gold admitted. It was the same plan that he’d been working on all day, even before the dinner invitation had been extended.

“Oh yes?” Belle raised an eyebrow, dropping her earrings and necklace back into her jewellery box. “And what might this plan be?”

“Well, I should probably discuss it with you first.”

“What is it? Come on, Aiden, put me out of my misery here. I hate suspense.”

Gold crossed the room towards her, bending down to whisper in her ear.

“I want to go down on you.”

“Oh. Oh.” Belle looked up at him; her bottom lip was worrying between her teeth in that nervous way she had, but on the whole, she seemed to be in favour of the idea, her eyes wide and bright. “Are you sure?”

“Oh, most definitely. What do you say? Can I have a taste of you, my lovely Belle?”

“Well, when you put it like that, it makes me wonder what I’ll be missing out on if I say no. I mean, your mouth feels wonderful everywhere else, why not down there too?” She paused. “Are you sure? I mean, you don’t have to.”

“I very much want to. And I expect no tit for tat reciprocation; if that’s what’s concerning you.” He had learned to read her so well over the course of their relationship, and even more so since they married.

Belle gave a slow nod, releasing her bottom lip from between her teeth and breaking into a smile. “I think I’d like that,” she said. “I think it would be… educational.”

There was something about the way her tongue rolled over the word that made it sound far more wicked than it had any business doing, and it went straight to Gold’s cock, making him stir in his pants already. He tried to tamp down his arousal and focus on the matter at hand. This evening was Belle’s, and he was going to do everything in his power to make sure that it was an unforgettable one for her.

She stood up then, shrugging her cardigan off her shoulders and looking up at him coyly through her lashes. “Would you care to unbutton me, Mr Gold?”

There was a blush rising in her cheeks as there always was whenever she was the one to be bold and make a suggestion. Gold kissed her, sucking her swollen lower lip into his mouth to run his tongue over it and distract her.

“I would love to, Mrs Gold.”

He took his time with her buttons, popping each one through its hole with careful and methodical slowness and getting onto his knees to undo the final few on her skirt. He looked up at her as he parted the two halves of the dress, exposing her underwear; God, she looked exquisite from this angle, like an angel gazing down on him.

She let the dress fall to the ground as he kissed his way up each of her inner thighs in turn, nudging his nose against the gusset of her underwear. He could feel her knees give a little wobble, and her skin turned to gooseflesh under his touch, and he grinned up at her from between her legs.

“I think we ought to take this to the bed, my dear. I fear you might collapse entirely if we continue like this.”

Belle nodded, giving a sound that could have been anything but that seemed to be ‘uff’, and she lay back against the pillows, watching Gold through narrowed eyes as he quickly shed the rest of his clothes and came over to the bed. His cock was beginning to bob eagerly in front of him, and he tried to ignore it, even as Belle’s eyes roamed over him with a hungry expression.

She took him between her thighs with no hesitation, her legs falling apart easily, so unlike the hesitance she’d had before. Her arms pulled him in close as he kissed her, carding into his hair as he made his way downwards, arching her back under his touch to let him get to her bra clasp. It took a couple of goes in the heat of the moment, but then he was pulling it off and tossing it to the side, lavishing attention on her bare breasts, tonguing at her pebbled nipples, and listening to the exquisite moans that she gave. He liked that she was vocal in her pleasure; it wasn’t something that he’d had to encourage all that much and he thought it was a good sign.

He began to kiss his way lower down her body, pausing every now and then to give her the opportunity to stop him like she’d done in the past, but she didn’t. He glanced up at her, looking at her sprawled on the covers, eyes half-closed in ecstasy, and he dipped his tongue into her navel, making her squeal and giggle and clamp her legs tight around him. Her ass wriggled and he was gifted with the sight of a little damp spot on the gusset of her underwear.

“Ready?” He slipped his fingers under the waistband, and Belle nodded.

“Yes.”

She was heaven; the scent of her excitement and the glistening of her juices in her fluffy curls made Gold groan. He decided to start slowly, to give her time to get used to the idea of having his mouth between her legs and to give himself, hopefully, some better chance of lasting out. He started with kisses to her thighs and mound, stroking a fingertip along the crease where her leg met her body, and the soft noises she was making told him that he was definitely doing something right. Finally, he parted her lips and darted out a lick along her cleft, relishing the gasp that she gave.

“Do you like that?”

“Oh, yes!”

He licked another stripe up to her clit, swirling the tip of his tongue around the little nub and making her cry out before slipping his hands under her hips to lift her a little and change the angle, lapping against her entrance. He felt her hands come down and tangle in his hair again as her hips bucked up against his face, and Gold smiled to himself, allowing a moment of preening. Yes, he was definitely onto a winner here.

He kept sucking and licking at her clit, alternating long laps and quick little flicks as he pushed one finger up inside her, stroking gently. Her hips were rocking more now, in time with the movement of his tongue, and her grunts and cries were coming more and more, getting louder and louder until she screamed out his name.

“Aiden!”

Her hands in his hair were almost painful, nails scratching at his scalp as her inner walls fluttered and clutched at his finger, a fresh flood of warm juices coating his hand and chin. He allowed himself a silent cheer of victory and slowly pulled out, looking up at her.

Belle was something else in the afterglow of her orgasm. Her chest was heaving, skin coated in a sheen of sweat, eyes closed, head thrown back. Every inch perfection. Eventually she let go of his head, her arms flopping out in a spread eagle.

“Now I can see why everyone goes on about how great orgasms are,” she mumbled as he crawled back up the bed, wiping her honey off his mouth before he kissed her again. She welcomed him readily, hungrily almost, her legs coming round his back to pull him in close. “That was wonderful,” she breathed, once she let him up for air and they were lying together as she came back from the high. “Thank you so much.”

“Darling, it was my pleasure.”

“No, I really think it was mine. But still…” She reached down to his cock, stroking him where he’d softened a little. “I think it should be yours, now.”

Gold needed no further invitation to push inside her, their bodies sliding together as she continued to hold him tightly, her chest pressed against his. As he came, buried to the hilt inside her, Gold knew that this moment was perfect, and no matter what might come next, he would always remember this wonderful evening. He hoped that Belle would, too.

[thisgirlsays22]

You are Not Alone (Part 2)

Rating: E (for the overall story, not this chapter THANKS JEN)

Fandom: Shingeki no Kyojin

Pairing(s): Mikasa Ackerman/Jean Kirstein, Eren Yeager/ Levi

Chapter Word Count: 2k

Additional Tags: Post-canon, angst, smut More Tags On AO3

Summary:

Mikasa relishes in her newfound sense of freedom. Loneliness does not mean she is alone.

A prequel and sequel to Home and I Know (I Am the One in Love).

Written for the wonderful @dreamxxdream as a (belated) birthday gift. Nadine, Thank you for your patience while waiting for these other parts to be posted. You’ve kicked a lot of ass this week, so I wanted to get my ass in gear finally. To make it up to you, have this gorgeous JeanKasa art I commissioned from the incredible @lolakasa​ . 

And thank you to @fluffymusketeer for the beta <3333

Part 1: Read on Ao3 | Read on Tumblr:

Home and I Know: Read on Ao3 | Read on Tumblr

Read part 2 on Ao3 or under the cut.

Mikasa sipped her second cup of coffee in Hanji’s office. She had slept fitfully the night before, and it showed in her sluggish movements. The recruits didn’t need Mikasa half-assing it through drills.

“Rough night?” Hanji asked, trying to hide their smile.

“Not what you’re thinking.”

“That’s no fun.”

“You’re like a gossipy teenager,” Mikasa pointed out.  

“I thought you liked that about me.”

Mikasa sighed. “I really should end things with Jean.”

“What? Why?”

The coffee tasted too bitter. There hadn’t been enough sugar left in the jar. She sipped it anyway, avoiding the question. Though they'd never explicitly discussed it, Jean had been in her life for a long time, and she could see the kind of life he wanted unfolding out between them. But since the war had ended, since Eren had left, since Armin had become preoccupied with work, her life had shifted in ways she’d never expected.

For the first time, everything belonged to her. It was a different kind of freedom than the one Eren had imagined. Sweeter. And though she missed her friends, and at night she had to remind herself she was not alone, there was a purity to the loneliness, a strength.

If she let him, Jean would intertwine both their lives completely. He would absorb her into his world as he did with the parties sometimes. Optional would become obligation. She would have to move into his house, closer to the palace. She would have to attend endless events. He'd probably wanted to get married soon, fill his home with children.

Mikasa longed for Jean all the time. But he deserved to be with someone who could share their life with him completely, and she wasn’t sure if she could. Not yet.

“Mikasa?” Hanji stretched out a leg and nudged Mikasa with their foot. “You in there?”

“I just can’t,” she said finally.

“It’s funny the things that stay with you,” Hanji mused.

“What?” Mikasa squinted, not following the line of thought.

“During the war, I remember that Jean was always looking out for where you were. You were looking out for Eren, and Jean was looking out for you.”

Her heart ached at that. It had been years, so much had changed, and yet...had things really changed at all?

“Hanji,” she began. “Are you happy as Commander?”

Hanji answered without hesitation. “Not particularly.”

“Why don’t you step down?” Mikasa asked. “You talked about leading the research division full time before. Things are different now; you don’t need to stay in a role you never wanted.”

“I know it’s different. But it’s naive to think that we could never go to war again. Peace is fragile, Mikasa. I couldn’t let Erwin down like that. You know, I used to think Jean would be the perfect successor, that I’d hand over the reigns to him and never look back, but I think he’s content with his role.”

“Armin?”

“Already turned me down. I think he wants to stay close to Historia.” Hanji raised their eyebrows.

“Gossipy teenager.” Mikasa sighed. “There must be someone else.” She wanted Hanji to be free.

“I have a few others in mind. We’ll see.”

“I hope it happens for you sooner rather than later,” Mikasa said. Hanji had become a good friend over the years, she wanted them to be happy.

Hanji smiled and then said, “So, Eren and Levi, huh?”  

Mikasa’s eyes shot to Hanji. “What?”

“Levi came to see me before he went chasing after Eren. I don’t know what you said to him, but he looked like a man on a mission.”

“I’m going now,” Mikasa said, standing.

“Oh, come on! When do you think they’ll be back?”

“I’m leaving.”

“You Ackermans are never any fun.”

“You know, Levi warned me about you before he left.” She put the empty coffee mug on Hanji’s desk and headed for the door. “Gossip.”

Hanji’s laughter followed Mikasa down the hall.

Eren and Levi returned a few days later. At the smile Eren gave her, Mikasa nearly burst into tears. He kept giving Levi those dopey looks that brought her back to when they were fifteen. All she had ever wanted was for Eren to be okay, and here he was, better than she’d ever seen him before.

“Good, you’re here just in time to come to the fundraiser with us,” she said, over dinner on their second night back.

They sat around Jean’s table in his grand dining room, the full-length windows overlooking the garden. Jean had even put out the nice china. Mikasa was secretly pleased he’d done so for Eren and that he’d extended the invitation in the first place. His spacious townhouse was better for dinner parties than Mikasa’s modest home. Besides, she hated hosting.  

“You’ll be the talk of the town,” Jean added.

“Not a chance in hell,” Levi said, calmly taking a sip of wine. It felt too pretentious to admit, but she really did like when Jean brought out a fancy bottle for dinner.

“No? Oh, Levi, won’t you dance with me?” Eren mock pleaded, casting a sly look at Levi.

“Don’t be a shithead.”

“Is this what counts as foreplay for you two?” Jean asked.

“Shut up, Jean.”

“You shut up, Eren. You’re the one flirting with your...with Levi at dinner.”

“We weren’t flirting! And besides, you’re the one trying to impress Mikasa with all this fancy shit.” He waved his hand over the serving platters, piled high with chicken, roasted vegetables and bread. “Is that your idea of foreplay?”  

They glared at one another over the table.

“Aren’t you going to punch one of them?” Mikasa asked Levi.

“Not yet,” Levi replied mildly, reaching for another roll and the butter. “Mind the candles if you start throwing punches. Last thing we need’s a fucking fire.”

Simultaneously, Jean and Eren both leaned back in their seats, still huffing.

Jean took another sip of wine then asked, “So does this mean you’re moving back to Paradis, Levi?”

Eren and Levi exchanged looks.

“What?” Mikasa prompted, trying to keep her tone neutral.

Levi sighed. “I’m leaving the Corps.”

“What?” Jean and Mikasa chorused.

“We’re going to travel,” Eren said by way of explanation. “It’s probably safe for me to return to Marley, but...there’s more of the world I--we--want to see.”

Mikasa glared at Levi. He was supposed to bring Eren back, not take him farther away.  

“Who knows how long he was going to stay out in the woods for,” Levi said. “What’s the difference?”

“I could still go see him!”

“I’m right here,” Eren said. “And you loved my letters. I’ll write to you all the time. I’ll send you postcards!”

What a fucking asshole! You loved my letters. She waved a hand. “Fine. Do what you like.”  

“Just because you want to stay here, doesn’t mean I do,” Eren continued, as though he hadn’t heard her.

Suddenly, she felt the absence of her scarf around her neck. She longed to tuck her chin in its protective embrace. Longed for something familiar, comforting. Jean rested a hand on her arm, and she felt some of the tension leave her shoulders.

Everyone was staring at her with apprehension. It was Levi’s disappointed look that hurt, though. She’d never seen it directed at her before.

“Let’s just talk about this tomorrow,” she said, looking down at her plate.

Eren deflated, slumping back in his chair. “Yeah, okay.”

They finished the meal, Jean gamely trying to steer the conversation to more pleasant territory, and Levi went along with it. Mikasa and Eren avoided each other’s looks, politely addressing one another only if the conversation truly called for it.

After dinner, Levi and Eren excused themselves to return to the inn where they were staying. Mikasa watched from the front window as they walked down the winding path away from Jean’s house, Eren intertwining his hand in Levi’s.

She moped for the rest of night, tucking herself away in Jean’s study where she scribbled madly in her notebook. It was one of her favorite places to write. He kept everything neat, and he always had her favorite incense on hand--an earthy, warm sandalwood. “Use the room whenever you like,” he’d offered.  

The words bled from the pen, ugly and raw. Nothing she wrote sounded right. Distracting thoughts filled her mind: Eren and his stupid letters. No, postcards!

“Hey,” Jean said from the doorway, after she’d been at it for about an hour.

She looked up from her notebook. “Hey.”

“You’re really that upset about Eren? I thought you were kind of used to him not being around. Maybe even enjoying yourself,” Jean said, frowning.  

“I want him to be happy. I just...thought he’d come back to stay here. With Levi.”

“Really?” Jean asked. “That was your big play?”

“Yes. I thought Levi would come back for Eren. I never thought they’d just up and leave us all.”

“Some people are our blind spots,” Jean said, a little sadly. “Eren never seemed happy here, Mikasa. And of course he wasn’t going to just go settle down in Marley forever either.”

She felt like she was being pulled apart in all directions. It wasn’t even clear to her why she was so sad. Her life had been good lately, hadn’t it? Even without Eren around every day.

Abruptly, she asked, “Jean, when did you realise you wanted me?” Because it was easier than asking what do you really want?

He gave the question some thought and came to sit down besides Mikasa on the ottoman. “I thought you were beautiful right away, but it was seeing you just being yourself, with Sasha, that made me really like you.”

“With Sasha?”

“Yeah, I realised you had this secret funny side to you. You were always so serious about training, or looking out for Eren and Armin. It wasn’t what I expected.”

“And is that why you looked out for me?” she asked.

“What? No. It just seemed like you needed someone in your corner. I usually agreed with you anyway...except about Eren sometimes.”

She snorted. “Except about Eren most of the time.”

"Yeah." A smile broke out on his face. “Also, that time in the hot springs.”

“What?”

“Mikasa, I don’t think you know what towel slippage does to a teenage boy.”

Mikasa groaned and covered her face. “Sasha was right about you.”

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”

She stretched her fingers and peered out at him with one eye. “Pervert.”

Jean gave her an indigent look. “I was seventeen! And when the towel of the most gorgeous girl you’ve ever seen slips, it’s the kind of thing that stays in your head forever.”

“Forever? You see me naked all the time.” Her cheeks flushed. Jean was being a moron.

“True.” Jean smiled. “But that was...unexpected.”

She leaned into him then, head resting on his chest so her ear was pressed over his heart. There were moments like these when she thought, I should be with you every minute of every day. A fear she couldn’t put words to always followed this thought, manifesting as a tightness in her chest. What if she changed her mind, wanted to be alone again, and hurt him?

“Thanks for looking out for me. Even when you shouldn’t have,” she said.

“Well, Mikasa. I suppose not much has changed.”

When she looked up, he smiled down at her, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“How do you mean?”

He shook his head. “Nothing.” Jean unwrapped his arms from around her and stood. “I’m busy for the rest of the week, but I’ll see you for the fundraiser.”

“Have fun with your...other friend,” she said, too lightly.

“Thanks, I will.”

The words, probably meant as a joke, came out meaner and sharper than Jean intended, judging by the stricken look on his face.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “That came out wrong.”

“It’s fine.” Mikasa stood. “I should get going. I have an early morning.”  

Before she left his house, he pressed a chaste kiss to her cheek.

[magicalgirlmascot]

Heya I don't mean to sound passive aggressive in any way, but I was just wondering why is it that you dislike Super a lot? I mean you're allowed to like and dislike whatever you want, and I'm in no way trying to change your opinion. I'm just curious as to why you seem to have a burning hatred for it?

Nah you don’t sound passive aggressive ^^ if you were you wouldn’t have acknowledged that my opinion is a valid one, you’re cool

I’ve avoided going into too much detail to avoid The Discourse, but essentially it comes down to a few main points: ships I don’t like, characters I don’t care about, pacing, terrible one-note characterization, and the fans.

I know a lot of that sounds really petty but with all my Sweet Home Alabama discourse yesterday are any of you surprised

I’m going to put my more detailed reasoning under a cut because boy howdy it is long and I have some Things To Say

Ships I Don’t LikeOkay this, honestly, is incredibly petty, and it’s not even the pettiest thing on here. But I HATE Trunks/Mai. I hate it. It is the worst ship that’s had the word “canon” sneezed at it in all of DB history, and that’s coming from someone who firmly believes Yamcha/Bulma was unhealthy for both parties. One of my rules for accepting writing commissions and requests is that I will not accept ships with an “aged up” child character in a relationship with an adult. (Aged up children in relationships with other aged up children are a different story, as they’re at least at the same stage of development, but that’s an issue for another day.) Trunks/Mai has the opposite problem: it’s an “aged down” adult character in a relationship with a child. You can argue about Future Trunks’s age all you want, but that changes nothing about kid Trunks and Mai. She’s in her forties. He’s nine at most. How is this not the creepiest thing in the world what the fuck.

Even with Future Trunks and Future Mai, it still grosses me out because it’s the same thing. Assuming the Pilaf Gang did (somehow) wish to be young again in the Future timeline (which...I don’t see how they could have, that doesn’t make sense continuity-wise, but continuity has never been DB’s strong suit), that still makes her way older than him. And if they didn’t, well, that’s just worse. Also how is she still that young looking.

Honestly the only reason I can think of for Toei/Toriyama to bring that into existence was so people would stop shipping Trunks with Goten and Future Trunks with Gohan. Which. I get it, you don’t like it, they’re your characters, et cetera, but could you maybe not have done it in a somewhat less creepy way? Dude. What 40-something wants to be in a relationship with a kid? Even if said 40-something looks like a kid? It’s creepy and gross and I hate it more than any other canon ship.

Characters I Don’t Care AboutI’ve heard a lot of people refer to Super as The Goku and Vegeta Hour and...yeah. DB’s never been great at remembering their MILLIONS of side characters (humans especially once Z happened) and Super doesn’t take enough steps to change that imo. Don’t get me wrong--I like Goku, and I...tolerate Vegeta, but characters who were once considered major players are relegated to backseat viewers again, and nobody can keep up with Goku except Vegeta sometimes (when previously most of them could at least hold their own). I’ll admit, I like the looks of some of the new characters, there are some who seem like they have interesting characterizations (like Kale.....though I’ll be the first to admit I’m biased as hell towards buff women). But Zamasu/Goku Black or whatever just seemed like a couple of shitty Hot Topic teens. I went to high school with people like them and they were annoying.

There’s just too much of a focus on a few specific characters while other characters get the shaft, and the new characters and plot points they bring up just...aren’t interesting. I don’t give a shit about yet another “gotta get stronger” plot you guys. Ugh.

PacingOKAY I’LL ADMIT this is the pettiest thing on this list but like...I’ve never liked the DB anime’s pacing. Ever. Remember how I used to liveblog DBZ? I got like 10 episodes in and got fed up with how long it took to get anywhere. Stuff that took like...a couple chapters in the manga took five half-hour episodes to deal with. And you’d think they would’ve learned in 30 years, especially since they don’t have to base everything off the manga now, but no, the pacing is still awful. And it’s not just the whole “Namek takes half a season to explode” stuff (although that is really annoying, and knowing the real-world reason for it doesn’t make it less annoying), it’s that every shot lasts longer than it needs to. You could cut the running time in half just by trimming the shots slightly. It’s bad, and I’ve always stuck to the manga because of it. It’s not that I’m a Manga Purist(TM) or anything, I just...can’t watch the anime.

Terrible, One-Note CharacterizationYou all know who I mean when I say this, but it extends to more than just Yamcha.

Videl’s character was absolutely decimated in this show. 18′s the only female fighter we have left anymore because of it. I once saw an argument saying that Videl not fighting anymore makes sense because she was traumatized by being killed by Buu, which okay fine fair enough, but 1) nobody said she had to fight in life-or-deaths situations, AT LEAST LET HER BE SAIYAWOMAN AGAIN YOU COWARDS, and 2) that doesn’t mean you have to get rid of her firecracker personality and replace it with the sweet, docile housewife type. We saw it with Chi-Chi...sort of, we don’t need it with Videl, too. Once a female character gets married in DB, they stop fighting (except 18) and stop being important to the plot (except Bulma...sometimes (remember when Bulma was the main character? Pepperidge Farm remembers)). Three times is a pattern, Toriyama, I’m just saying.

Goku even gets hit with shades of this. He’s not an idiot, you guys, he can read a dang grocery list. Yes, he’s selfish and simple and bad at communicating and often doesn’t realise what he’s done wrong until it’s pointed out to him, but he’s also a fast learner, a really good tactician (like. look at some of his fights in DB and early Z, those are some Good Tactics), and not a complete asswipe. We don’t get to see those good traits much in Super. He had no reason to not tell people the stakes for the tournament to get them to join. None. There was no reason to lie. Yes, his biggest flaw is his inability to communicate with his friends and teammates (COUGHS LOUDLY AND LOOKS AT THE CELL ARC) but Jesus you guys, his friends would have helped him if he told them the real stakes too? He didn’t need to lie? There was no point? I’m so angry?

The worst of it though is Yamcha. For the love of fuck, you guys, Yamcha has more characterization than just “guy who sucks at everything and has a thing for Bulma.” Like that’s some Funi dub shit there, not original canon. What happened to when he said he’d given up fighting in the Buu arc? Where did that go? You could have done so much more with that concept rather than have him still be overconfident in his abilities and slamming him at every turn. Even when he does get to do stuff, it’s obvious that it’s just a setup to make him fail so Vegeta will look good by comparison. It’s awful. The writers have such an obvious hard-on for Vegeta and they keep cutting Yamcha down. Those bits where he’s waiting for Goku to ask him to the tournament even though we all know he won’t? They’re not funny, they’re just sad. Also, on that note, why is Roshi there? Yamcha surpassed Roshi years ago, Roshi himself says so! I get that he wasn’t in the RF movie because his voice actor was busy, but they couldn’t have given a better reason than just Tien leaving him behind because he didn’t think he could keep up? At least have him sick in bed with a fever and wanting to go anyway and being forced to stay behind by a worried Tien or something guys, geez. And his VA was obviously around for that arc of Super, so what the hell.

(Yes I was salty earlier about Yamcha still fighting and shit but if you’re going to drop the “Yamcha retiring from fighting” plot point then at least DO something with it you cowards)

FansOH GOD, THE FANS. Not to say that people who dislike Super are perfect or ideologically pure (I once knew a person who bragged about trolling/picking on Super fans...we do not talk), but the people who do like the show seem to spend an awful lot of time yelling at us and telling people they’re not real fans if they like GT more than Super or don’t like either or whatever.

And of course the VegeBullies are out in full force over it, too. VegeBul gets a lot of screentime, and when fans of other ships (GoChi primarily) say “hey we’d like more content” they get shut down or yelled at. They demand more content despite already having more than anyone else at this point. Shut the fuck up and let me enjoy the fact that Tien and Yamcha stood next to each other again in peace.

But that’s getting dangerously close to ship war territory and I try to stay out of that. (It’s hard, because I’m a salty, bitter person, but I try.) I’ll also say Not All VegeBuls(TM) even though I shouldn’t have to because if I don’t I’ll get at least 10 angry anons in my inbox flipping their shit.

You know what the really sad thing is? When Super was first announced, I was mega excited. And I really liked the first couple episodes! But they veered away from making it the Martial Arts Themed Slice of Life Comedy Hour we deserved, they retold the same story the movies already did instead of just making the movies canon and continuing from there (thereby drawing it out way too much), and they just...fucked it up in general. I can’t stand Super and while I don’t expect to sway anyone’s opinion with this, you did ask me why, and I hope now you can understand.