#ahiru deserved none of this

[fakirchan]

The only thing I generally dislike about the manga is that it just feels kind of more shallow when you compare it to the anime, in the way that none of the characters' backstories are explained and it feels like they were all stripped of their personalities (and Ahiru isn't an actual duck here). But I don't hate it and I don't think it really deserves to be hated, I like looking at it once in awhile and I think it can be reasonably enjoyed outside of the expectations set by the anime to be perfectly honest !

It retains the nice messages about feelings that the anime does, which is really nice

[marinsawakening]

I cannot stop thinking about aro!Mytho it’s SUCH good concept. 

The thing is, while I did come to appreciate his character more upon rewatch, I do think there was a huge missed opportunity in Princess Tutu by not really having him challenge the fate set out for him. There were elements and allusions to it (in him choosing Rue, the Raven’s daughter, as his princess, the hint that he might never be unaffected by the raven’s blood, and of course him stating he wants to ‘love Rue more than anyone else’, which. we’ll get to), but overall, he was what was expected of him and did what was expected of him when it was expected of him. And that makes sense, he’s the only character who actually did get created for the sake of Drosselmeyer’s story, but I still think the anime could’ve been more powerful if he, too, had chosen to defy the story. 

The nature of ‘love’ in Princess Tutu is really interesting to me, in no large part because I’m aromantic. Personally, I felt like Princess Tutu, for the most part, didn’t separate romantic and platonic love. There were some exceptions, such as the fact that Rue and Mytho’s feelings for each other were obviously coded as romantic, but even then, it could get blurry. Rue was manipulated to believe only the Raven and Mytho could love her, but at no point is there a distinction drawn between the type of love they’d have for her. 

You can also see this with how the show handles Ahiru’s crush on Mytho; while it starts off as romantic, it gradually changes to platonic. I’ve seen some people say that Ahiru stops loving Mytho, and I strongly disagree with that assessment. Until the very end, Ahiru is willing to go to the ends of the earth for Mytho, in what is pretty clearly framed as an act of love. 

But while it’s implied the nature of her love has shifted, at no point does the show imply the intensity of her love has diminished. If anything, it has grown. In a similar way, Fakir and Ahiru’s love for each other is never explicitly framed or implied to be either romantic or platonic; you could make arguments for it, sure, but ultimately, it’s never made ‘canon’. 

This is because, at the end of the day, it isn’t important. It doesn’t really matter whether the love you feel for someone else is platonic or romantic, and the show makes little effort to distinguish the two. The only time the show implies one is stronger than the other is when Mytho says he wishes to love Rue more than anyone else, which is something that leaves a bitter taste in my mouth, but even then, you could argue it’s less about romance, and more about giving Rue what she always wanted, and having Mytho defy his ‘loves everyone’ designation. 

The amorphous nature of love in Princess Tutu is a large part of why I think the idea of an aromantic Mytho is so interesting. Prince Siegfried’s whole deal was being the ideal fairytale prince, who is loved by everyone and who loves everyone in return. In canon, he defied this expectation by loving Rue more than anyone else. 

But to me, at least, this feels like less of a defiance, and more of an extension. Loving Rue in no way prohibits loving anyone else; this is a lesson Rue herself had to learn during the course of the show. I admit to being biased here because I really don’t like the implication that loving someone romantically is stronger than loving someone platonically, but I also simply don’t think this was that much of a subversion. If anything, it feels like a natural consequence of Mytho regaining his heart; it’s near impossible for someone to love everyone equally, after all.

None of this is bad, for the record. It works just fine within the context of the story, framing Mytho as a person rather than a flawless fairytale prince. But I think the idea of Mytho being aromantic would reinforce that personhood in a different way, and in addition, add some interesting questions about love to the show’s canon.

Recently within the aromantic community, there has been a bit of backlash to an idea that was - and still is - very prominent within the aro community: the importance of platonic love. Society, as a whole, positions love as an almost supernatural good, and claims it is what makes us human. As a result, aromantic people, who either cannot fall in love romantically or have unusual ways of doing so, felt the need to reinforce their humanity by pointing out that we can still feel platonic love. This has become a cornerstone of the community. 

The backlash has come primarily from neurodivergent and traumatized aros, who can (for various reasons) feel disconnected from or uncomfortable with the concept of love in general. This is where the concept of ‘loveless aros’ stems from. The identity doesn’t necessarily mean that one doesn’t experience love (though many people do define it as such), but is primarily meant as a way to challenge the idea that love is what makes us human, and that platonic love is what gives aromantics their worth despite not being able to love romantically (or doing so in ways that aren’t ‘societally approved’). If love is what makes us human, why is it that there are humans who don’t feel it, or don’t want to feel it? 

Princess Tutu is, in no large part, a show about love. Personally, as an aro with a complicated relationship to love, I think it does better than most shows about the subject. While I really do like and enjoy shows about the strength of love (specifically platonic love), I can’t help but feel alienated by them as they praise this idea of an all-important, universal, almost divine emotion that is the cause of all good on the planet. Because that is absolutely not my experience with the concept of love. 

Princess Tutu does better than most shows not just because it puts platonic love and romantic love on equal footing, and in fact largely doesn’t sepearte the two, but also because it’s willing to show the negative effects that love can have. Toxic love is a huge part of the show, and while I don’t think all aspects of it were handled 100% brilliantly (Fakir should’ve at least apologized to Mytho for his behaviour in the first few episodes, for starters), I am impressed by how well it manages to examine the concept nonetheless. It’s part of the reason why Princess Tutu alienates me less than a lot of other shows with similar themes.

But it still frames love as something more important than all other emotions, in a way, the pinnacle of emotion. And I think it would be interesting to challenge that notion by making Mytho an aro, specifically, a loveless aro.

I do not necessarily mean that in the sense that he should not feel love (though I wouldn’t mind that either). I mean it in the sense of the fairytale prince, said to love everyone, rejecting that notion. Love has brought Mytho great things, sure, but also terrible things; it’s what lifted the Raven’s enchantment, but also what put the enchantment on him in the first place. I don’t think it would be a stretch to say it’s very possible that this left him with rather complicated emotions towards the concept of love. 

What if he found himself incapable of loving Rue more than anyone, no matter how much he wanted to, because he does care deeply about her and feels like she deserves someone who gives her that kind of love? What if the prince who loves everyone grew resentful of the hurts he’d suffered in the name of love? What if it made him fearful of it, even? Who does that leave him as? If he’s not Prince Siegfried, the prince who loves everyone, who is he? Who is Mytho?

Of course, he’s still infinitely kind, and his first instinct is to help everyone in trouble, and he has no problem following that instinct through. But I think the notion of Prince Siegfried rejecting the idea of love, and instead valuing kindness above all else to be a fascinating one. I think it lends a lot of depth to both his character and the show’s themes of love. 

So yeah loveless aro!Mytho is a GREAT concept actually.

[twinkletoes-rp]

Princess Tutu College AU Ch. 5 - “Fifth Position”

(Can also be read on FFN | AO3 | Previous )

--

It’s a week before Gold Crown Fine Arts College breaks for the late Easter holiday, and everyone is eager for the reprieve. Everyone’s talking about going home, seeing family and friends, and eating tons of food, and Ahiru loves it. She loves seeing everyone so happy and excited.

Lilie and Pique have some extra time today, so they’re walking with her to her and Fakir’s practice room. They’re talking about what they’re going to do over break, making it a kind of competition to see who can have the most fun, and Ahiru can’t help but laugh. They’re really ridiculous sometimes.

Once they arrive, they pause their game and stop Ahiru before she can leave. “So, what are you doing for the break, Ahiru?” Pique asks.

She’s a little early and Fakir’s not here yet, so Ahiru doesn’t mind them keeping her a minute. She hums in thought, only for a bright smile to spring to her face. “I’ll go swimming and eat a lot, of course! It’ll be fun!”

“Oh, really? That sounds nice!” Pique encourages.

Lilie, however, leans into Ahiru’s space, her sneaky, gossipy smile on her lips, and Ahiru inwardly braces herself as the blond nudges her with her elbow. “But I bet you’ll miss your dance partner, huh?”

Ahiru takes a huge step back at the assumption, half a “Quack—?!” escaping before she muffles it, face bright red. “W-what’s that supposed to mean?!” she sputters, embarrassed and honestly confused. Why bring up Fakir all of a sudden? What does he have to do with anything? “O-of course I’ll miss him, he’s my friend! I’ll miss you guys, too!” She glances at the door and shifts from foot to foot a few times before backing up toward it. “A-anyway, Fakir should be here soon, so I’ll just—see you later!”

With that, she disappears inside, breathing a heavy sigh of relief as she leans against the heavy wood. The next thing she does is try to slow her racing heart so her blush will go away before Fakir sees. She doesn’t want him drawing his own conclusions. He might think she’s sick again, and then he’ll worry. He always looks so sad when he worries.

Outside, Pique and Lilie watch her go, then sigh, but for two very different reasons. “She’s in denial…” Lilie says wistfully, hands cradling her cheeks.

“Maybe,” Pique replies, but she’s only half-listening, staring hard at the door Ahiru went through. She’s trying to make sense of what the younger girl said before Lilie got nosy. “She always says the same thing.”

“Hmm?” Lilie blinks, tilting her head. “About breaks, you mean?”

Pique nods, glad she caught on. The two of them always seem to be on the same page. It’s probably what makes them such good friends. “Mm hmm. She always says she’ll swim and eat a lot and have fun. It’s her go-to. It just makes me wonder what she really does or if it really is all the same like that. Wouldn’t that get boring?”

She and Lilie start heading to their dorm, the gossip giggling behind her hand. “Well, her name does mean ‘duck,’ after all. Maybe she really does take after them.”

Now that Pique thinks about it, Ahiru does have a lot of mannerisms that remind her of a duck. She laughs, too. “Yeah, it could be.”

Meanwhile, just around the corner with his back pressed flat against the side of the wall, Fakir listens closely. He really didn’t mean to eavesdrop at first, but when he got close enough to hear Ahiru’s friend mention him in that sing-song voice, well…sue him, he was curious. And while he did blush at Lilie’s teasing at first, now that he’s hearing Ahiru’s friends express confusion, maybe even edging concern, over her holiday plans, he can’t help but be glad he overheard.

He feels guilty and stupid for it now, but he hadn’t exactly…given much thought to what Ahiru would be doing for the holidays. He never has before. He always assumed she spent time with loved ones like everyone else. But honestly, thinking about it now, while he more or less knows she’s an orphan, he doesn’t know if she has a foster family or a guardian of some kind. She’s never mentioned anyone, and it’s none of his business, so he’s never asked in case it was a touchy subject. If she did at one point, maybe something happened to them early on, so she’s just been on her own since? On the other hand, even if she does have someone, she’s eighteen, turning nineteen soon. She’s old enough to be on her own, so maybe she is.

He sighs heavily. And even with all of that, there’s still the possibility he doesn’t want to think about, but would make the most sense: if she doesn’t have a family or guardian, does that mean she’ll be alone for the holidays? Does it mean she’s been alone, for God knows how many years?

God, has she…has she always been alone?

Those possibilities, but particularly that last one, make his stomach churn and burn white-hot with guilt and shame, almost make him sick...but they also make him wonder about her long game. Apparently, she always gives the same answer for every break, and as far as he knows, she, Lilie, and Pique went to high school and maybe even middle school together. So, if it’s been that long and she’s never changed her answer, did she…just think no one would notice? Or worse, care? It’s true that Pique and Lilie aren’t the most attentive or supportive friends, not nearly as much as Ahiru deserves, in his opinion, and that’s being generous, but did they really not notice that significant of a pattern? Did they never question any of it this whole time?!

And that’s not even the most upsetting part, at least for him—that part is the why. Why wouldn’t she tell him? Why wouldn’t she tell anyone? This is—she is important, damn it!

The sharp sting of his nails nearly biting into his palms is the only thing that breaks him out of his angry-worried spiral. He apparently also has to remind himself to breathe through something other than clenched teeth.

Of course, that just gives him a moment to catch his breath, at least somewhat, and that forces him to remember that he doesn’t truly know anything for sure. This is mostly speculation based on a vague answer, her friends’ contemplation, and the almost-nothing he knows about her home life. Maybe he could find out the truth if he asked her, but…honestly, knowing her, she’d lie to keep him from worrying. She’s always like that, always putting other people before herself, even if it means she suffers. It’s probably how she got into this situation in the first place. He wishes…he wishes she wasn’t like that. He wishes she’d remember that she matters, too.

As it stands now, it would be really helpful if he could at least know something with some degree of certainty. Quickly stepping out from his hiding place, he looks for Lilie and Pique, but they’re nowhere to be found. He must have missed them. He sighs, running a frustrated hand through his hair. Damn it…

Well…he supposes it can’t be helped. He can track them down another time. Right now, Ahiru’s waiting for him, and it wouldn’t do to just leave her hanging. Besides being rude as hell, she’d worry, and if there’s one thing he hates, it’s making her worry about him. They’re alike that way. So, for now, he takes another deep breath to calm himself as best he can before going inside to practice.

But he should have known it wouldn’t be that easy. When he worries, it’s all he can think about, and right now, when the object of his concern is his dance partner, well…it just makes it harder to ignore. Still, he does his best.

For all his efforts, though, Ahiru isn’t blind or stupid. She knows she’s not the brightest bulb, but she can tell when Fakir’s hung up on something, and whatever’s going on in that brilliant head of his today is winding him up more and more. Honestly, she’s worried he’ll snap, he’s stretching himself so thin. She wonders what happened. He was fine this morning, even when they met up for a quick lunch between classes. What could have happened in just a few hours…?

“Fakir?” she calls two hours later, stepping back into the practice room after a quick shower in the locker room.

Freshly showered himself, he’s waiting for her right outside, just like she knew he would be. It’s getting dark, and he doesn’t like the idea of her walking back all by herself. Mytho would laugh and say it’s the ‘knight’ in him. “Hmm?”

“Are you…okay?” she asks softly, concern written all over her face. It’s almost palpable. “It’s not like you to lose focus during practice, and I can tell you’re worried about something…” She hopes he isn’t worried about her bullies. Melody and her friends haven’t tried anything since that last time. In fact, it’s almost like they’re afraid to be anywhere near her, avoiding her at all costs… It’s weird, but she’s not complaining. Suddenly realizing how bold that might sound, Ahiru stiffens and flushes, waving her hands in front of her. “I-I just mean—you don’t have to tell me, but if—if I can help at all…!”

Fakir blinks and turns a little pink himself, embarrassed and kicking himself at getting caught. Then again, she is the most emotionally intelligent person he’s ever met in his life, whether she knows that or not, so he supposes it makes all the sense in the world. He can’t help but breathe a laugh. For whatever reason, the way she’s looking at him makes him feel…better somehow. Maybe it’s having someone care, but he has Mytho, Rue, and his family, so... No, he thinks it’s more than that. He thinks it’s because it’s her.

But whatever the reason, all the pent-up tension finally bleeds from his shoulders, the hand squeezing his heart releases, and he can breathe again. Thank goodness…

She sees the change in him immediately, and she’s about to ask if he’s feeling better when he reaches out to ruffle her wet hair. She squeaks and closes her eyes in surprise at first, then instinctively lean up into his touch with a happy smile and giggle. His heart does flip flops in his chest, and he melts before he can stop himself. His voice follows in kind. “As long as you’re okay, I’m just fine.” Turning on his heel, he starts leading them toward the door. “Come on. It’s getting dark, and I know you still have a quiz to study for. I’ll help you while we make dinner.”

Blinking away her lingering confusion, she beams and hurries to fall into step at his side. “Okay!”

He asks about her day as they walk home, and while he listens to her excited chatter, he does his best to focus on her smiling face. He’s still worried, sure, but he doesn’t want to pass that on to her. He wants her to eat well, sleep better, and ace her quiz.

Him… He can wait.

--

The next day, Ahiru arrives for practice right on time, but Fakir’s not there. Normally, he’s never late, but she knows his classes can go over if it’s an important one, so she’s guessing that’s what happened. She doesn’t mind waiting, though. She’s almost always late (though she’s doing her best to get better!), and he never minds, so she’ll give him the same courtesy.

Sitting down on a nearby bench, she goes to pull out one of her Dance Theory books to get ahead on some assigned reading when something catches her eye. Lying beside her on the bench is a small stack of parchment. Someone must have left it here. She looks around, but doesn’t see anyone.

Picking it up to get a closer look, hoping to at least get it back to the owner if she can find the name somewhere, she does a double-take. Wait a minute! She knows this pretty handwriting! She’d know it anywhere! This is Fakir’s!

She looks around again to make sure he’s not here somewhere, double checks inside, too, but he’s still nowhere to be found. Hmm… Well, what should she do now…? And what is this anyway? It doesn’t look like something for any class she’s ever seen him take… She takes another look at the title.

The Prince and the Raven, huh? Sounds like some kind of fiction project. Color her intrigued.

Flipping to the first page, she lets herself read. She’s not planning on reading much, just a little bit to find out what kind of story it is, but then one thing leads to another, and she’s devouring it whole. She smiles to herself as she reads, and that’s how Fakir finds her several minutes later.

All he can do is stare. He’s frozen in place and blushing to his ears. Anyone else might be angry that she’s reading something of his without permission, but the only thing he can wrap his head around right now is the fact that she’s…smiling at his work.

Ahiru finally looks up a minute later when she feels eyes on her, and when she spots him, it’s time for double-take number two. “Qua—?!” Barely cutting herself off in time, she turns beet red.

Instantly, she holds the story out to him, head bowed as low as she can. “I-I’m sorry! I shouldn't have read it, I know! I-I did try to look for you, but when I couldn’t find you, I got curious, and once I started reading, I couldn't stop! The next thing I knew, I was done!" She whines, internally kicking herself. That was a total invasion of privacy! She’s such a jerk! “I’m really, really sorry! Please forgive me!”

She’s too nervous to look at him, so she keeps her head down and her eyes squeezed tightly shut. She can hear him walking toward her, and she feels it when he very gently, almost hesitantly, takes the pages from her hands, but she still doesn’t look up. It’s silent for a long moment, and Ahiru waits on bated breath. Anything else wouldn’t feel respectful right now, especially after what she did.

“You were…smiling…” He sounds…shocked, but happy, maybe even flattered and touched, like that’s not the reaction he was expecting. “You...you enjoyed it?”

She finally dares to look up at him, and she finds he’s staring at her like he’s expecting her to yell “Psych!” and laugh in his face, though he has to know she’d never do that. Her eyes go wide, and she nods a few times, giving him her most serious expression. “Mm hmm, mm hmm! I really did, I swear! I thought it was amazing! The way you wrote the brothers’ relationship and the prince’s struggle to do what was right for him and his kingdom were really emotional, and I thought the way the Raven’s daughter told the prince she loved him was really sweet! I was so worried when she sacrificed herself, but I love how the prince saved her and everything was all right in the end!”

She looks back at the story in his hands, a small, sad smile forming on her face. “The only part I didn’t like was the knight’s ending. I felt bad for him. He was such a good brother to the prince, but in the end, he was left all alone.” She peers back up at Fakir, smile growing into something hopeful as she drops her chin into her hand. “Does he really have to be alone? I’m sure there must be someone who can give him the love he deserves, the love he shows everyone else.”

For a long moment, he doesn’t say anything in response, seems even more shocked than before, and she swears he’s blushing more, too. She squirms a bit. Did…she say something wrong? Did that part about the knight offend him somehow? Just when she’s about to apologize again, Fakir moves to close the distance between them and sit down beside her. Settling the pages in his lap and folding his hands, he nestles his chin between his knuckles and, given a moment, finds his voice.

“The knight doesn’t deserve a happy ending,” he says softly, an almost bitter, sardonic clip to his voice that Ahiru can’t quite place. Is this…maybe personal for him somehow? “He couldn’t help his prince, his own brother, when he needed him the most. Why should he get to be happy when he ended up being useless to the person who meant the most to him?”

“He was not!”

Fakir whips to face her so quickly, she’s surprised he didn’t hurt himself, and his eyes widen at the fire in her eyes. “He did everything he could for the prince! He faced his fears and fought the Raven, was even willing to die to protect him!” She crosses her arms and looks more indignant than he thinks he’s ever seen. “So he couldn’t help his brother get his heart back, so what? That’s not what he was meant for! That wasn’t his role to play!” Fakir’s eyes blow open wide, and Ahiru swears he’s paler now than he was a second ago. Shaking, white-knuckled hands clutch the pages to his chest to ensure he doesn’t lose his battle with the tears abruptly threatening to gather in his eyes. He looks like she’s shattered his whole worldview, and she almost stops, but…she gets the feeling he needs to hear this somehow. Determined to make him understand, she keeps going. “That doesn’t erase everything he could do for the prince! He practically half-raised him and looked out for him as best he could! He risked his life to save him from the Raven’s wrath! How do you think the story would have turned out without him? How do you think the prince would have turned out without him?” She pouts. “I think it would’ve sucked!”

His eyes widen a fraction more at that last part, and then he sputters a laugh. That sputter turns into a chuckle, a giggle, and then full-out laughter, so much that he throws his head back to let it all out, his shoulders shaking with it. Ahiru’s wide blue eyes blink once, twice, her cheeks slowly dyeing red. She’s never heard or seen him laugh like this before. It’s…he’s beautiful…

When he finally calms and turns back to her, he feels lighter, less burdened, than he has in a long, long time. Years, he thinks. He looks more relaxed to her, too, maybe more than she’s ever seen. It’ll probably take him a bit to process all the ways he feels better. He smiles at her softly, and Ahiru’s breath catches in her throat. She could be wrong, but…she doesn’t think she’s ever seen a smile this soft from him before… This is a day of firsts for them, it seems.

“I admit, that’s not the reaction I was expecting,” he tells her softly. He reaches over to drop his hand on her head and ruffle her hair, making her snort and lean up into it happily, which just makes him melt further. Geez… If she isn’t careful, she might melt him completely… “Not that I was expecting a reaction at all. I didn’t mean to leave this here, after all. I misplaced it earlier,” was too preoccupied with thoughts of what to do about her to pay attention to what he was doing, “and I was looking for it when I found you.” He glances up at the sky to watch two birds swirl around each other, and he takes a deep breath. A tiny, almost hopeful smile comes to his face. “But you know, it’s just a rough draft, so maybe…maybe you’re right about the knight. At least…” he lets his thumb brush over the title, over The Prince specifically, “...in some ways. Maybe I’ll rethink his ending.”

She gasps and nods enthusiastically, beaming. He swears those are stars in her eyes. “Yes! Yes, please do! When you do, can I read it?” Realizing how forward that might sound, she puts her hands out in front of her in her own defense. “Ah—only if that wouldn’t be a problem, I mean! And I promise to get permission first this time!”

He chuckles and nods in turn. “Actually…I’d like that.” He softens, then glances away almost shyly as a new thought occurs to him. He hopes she doesn’t see the way his cheeks turn pink. “I…I trust you to make sure the knight gets the ending he deserves.”

Ahiru raises an eyebrow and tilts her head at that. She doesn’t really know why, but she feels like she’s missing something, like he’s trying to tell her something and keep it under wraps at the same time. She can’t imagine what, though. All the same, she’s really glad he trusts her to be the one to read his writing! She feels honored, maybe even important! She clenches her fists at half-mast. “I’d love to! Thank you so much!”

He breathes a helplessly fond laugh. “You’re welcome.”

A comfortable silence settles for a long few moments, and then something sparks in Ahiru’s mind. “Hey, so what’s this for anyway? Some writing class I didn’t know you had?”

He stiffens and colors brightly, and Ahiru wonders if maybe she shouldn’t have asked. But then, quietly, “I…I want to be a writer…”

Instantly, it’s like her entire being lights up. “Really?!” His eyes widen at her ecstatically excited tone, and they do even more when he sees how starstruck she is. His cheeks darken. He nods, and if possible, it’s like she lights up even more—hell, becomes the sun itself. “What I just read was incredible! I can totally see that! You should, you should! Absolutely!” She nods so many times, he’s surprised she’s not dizzy, each time more enthusiastic than the last.

He can’t help but laugh, still feeling shy, but not nearly as embarrassed. She really is diving headfirst into this, isn’t she? He can’t pretend he doesn’t feel a massive confidence boost from it, though. Ahiru is a lot of things, but disingenuous isn’t one of them, and she’s always had a thing for fairy tales. If she likes it, especially this much? To him, that must mean he’s really onto something.

They end up just talking for the rest of the day, skipping practice entirely (they practiced extra yesterday, so it should be fine). Heading home just as dusk starts to settle, he smiles softly in listening to her ramble about her favorite parts of his story. He’s never had someone ramble about his writing before…

--

The next afternoon, he catches Lilie and Pique on the way to one of the only classes they don’t share with Ahiru. They’re surprised to see him, but he doesn’t care about that right now. All he cares about is his friend.

“I overheard something the other day I need you to confirm.” He’s not bothering to beat around the bush, his voice and expression demanding no nonsense. “Ahiru told you that she ‘swims and eats and has a lot of fun’ on her vacations, and when she left,” he points at Pique, “you said she says the same thing every time, that her story never changes. Is that correct?”

They look startled that he heard all that, never mind that he remembered it all almost word for word, but nod in unison. “Y-yeah, that’s right.” Pique tilts her head, brow furrowing. “Why?”

Lilie gets that look on her face, the one with the stage-whisper hand to her mouth that makes him want to twist his face in disgust and call it a day, but he stands his ground and just gives her a lower level dose before letting her say her piece. “Are you asking because you care about her?”

Somehow, she makes it sound almost…devious, like she means more than she’s saying. Beating back his rising blush, Fakir just lets his eyelid twitch and forces himself to roll his eyes instead of insult her to her face. He doesn’t have time for this. “Don’t be an idiot, of course I care about her.” Okay, so he gave himself half a win, sue him. Turning back to Pique, the only semi-sensible one of the two, he answers, “I’m asking because I’m…concerned. If she always says the same thing, maybe she’s hiding something. You’ve never heard her say she spends time with anyone, stays with anyone, sees anyone?” His own brow wrinkles. “It’s always just the swimming and eating and fun?”

Pique nods, frown deepening. “Y-yes…?” She bites her lip. “She’s never mentioned anyone else or doing anything else. It sounds so boring, but she always seems fine and even excited when she comes back…”

Lilie pipes up with something else, but Fakir knows enough about her character to have already stopped listening. All right, so he has his answer now, one more piece of the puzzle. The only problem is, it’s the one he didn’t want. Turning on his heel, he absently throws a “Thanks for your help” over his shoulder as he makes his way back to their dorm, a plan already forming in his head.

He is getting to the bottom of this if it kills him.

--

That evening, Ahiru is studying for a test she has the next morning, sitting at the dining room table so Fakir can quiz her while he cleans up after dinner. It’s been quiet for about ten minutes while she reads the next passage, and that’s when Fakir takes his chance.

“Ahiru?”

She looks up from her book with a small “Huh?”

“I forgot to ask before, but what do you usually do over break?”

She blinks. He’s never asked her that before. Then again, they weren’t exactly friends before. Excited warmth floods her at how close they’re becoming, and she brightens. “I swim and eat and have lots of fun! It's the best!"

And there it is. That same answer. Why weren't Lilie and Pique even the least bit suspicious? They're supposed to be her longest friends, aren’t they? Are they really that oblivious? Do they honestly even care? How can they call themselves her friends?

He's glad he's facing away from her. The angry, worried, frustrated frown on his face, his teeth gritting so hard they groan, and the way he's honestly surprised the plate in his hands hasn’t broken from how furiously he's scrubbing it wouldn't do for her to see.

He's fixing this. Right now.

He needs to call his father.

--

"Well, if it isn't my wayward son! Finally feel like calling your old man, huh?" There's loving mirth in Charon's voice on the other end of the line, and it helps calm Fakir's frazzled fury some. He's grateful.

"Is that big brother Fakir-zura? Can I hear, too-zura?" He hears Charon groan (mostly for comedic effect) as he bends down to pick up Uzura. "Hi, big brother!"

All of it makes Fakir smile softly, the vice around his heart easing a bit more. He needed that. He's missed them a lot. "Hi, Uzura. Hello, Charon. How are you? Well, I hope?"

Charon laughs warmly. "Of course! Uzura and I are doing great, aren't we, schatzi?" She gives a good few taps of her snare drum in answer. "Business is going well, too! You know the holidays always get busy and then slow down again, just in time for your school break!"

Fakir hums, fidgeting with the phone cord a bit. "Good. I'm glad." A heartbeat. "Actually, Charon, break is what I wanted to talk to you about. I need a favor."

There's a collective "Oh...!" on the other end, and he can picture the two of them looking at each other in intrigue. He breathes a laugh. "A favor, huh? All right, what is it?"

He doesn't waste any time. "There's a friend of mine, a girl, Ahiru. I've told you about her before."

"Yes, I remember. The clumsy one. What about her?"

"I always figured she was an orphan, but I just found out she's been spending all of her holidays alone for God knows how many years, and I—" he holds the phone tighter, so hard it creaks; he wonders if they can hear it, "—I can't let that stand. She shouldn't be alone for the holidays. No one should, but especially not her!" He pauses, takes a breath. He got a little heated there. "Sorry, I just... Would it be at all possible for her to stay with us during the break? We have a spare room, after all, and she doesn't have much. I just...can't leave her alone again. Not after knowing this." Not after everything.

Charon is silent for a long moment on the other end, and Fakir waits for his answer on bated breath. Even if he says no, he'll figure something else out. He has to. He will not, refuses, to let her spend any more holidays alone. Finally, Charon laughs. "She must be some girl if you're bringing her home already."

Fakir reels back from the phone like it's bitten him, face beet red. Moving in again before they can start making assumptions (or worse, teasing him), he protests, "I-it’s not like that!"

Charon laughs again, and he can picture the raised eyebrow he's giving Uzura and hear the smirk in his voice when he says, "Mm hmm. 'Course it's not." He's pretty sure he hears him whisper "He's in denial" to Uzura, who giggles.

Fakir growls, pointedly ignoring the way his ears are starting to burn now. "Charon, I'm serious—"

"Of course she can stay, Fakir." Charon makes sure to raise his voice over his adoptive son’s frustration, and Fakir stops in his tracks. "She's a friend of yours, and she needs a place to stay. Like you said, no one should be alone for the holidays." Charon glances at Uzura and hugs her closer. "Uzura and I will get the spare room all ready for her, won't we, schatzchen?"

Uzura cheers, tapping her snare drum, and Fakir laughs lightly, the tightly-coiled tension bleeding from him in a heavy, relieved sigh. "Thank you, Charon. I really appreciate this."

Charon can't help but melt at the warm tone to his son's voice. This girl must really be something special to him if he was this worried about her. "Of course, son. Anything for you, you know that. See you in a few days. Love you."

"Bye-bye-zura! See you soon-zura!"

His smile gentles even more, another breath of a laugh escaping him. "Goodnight, Charon. Goodnight, Uzura. See you soon. I love you, too."

--

When Fakir finally comes out of his room, Ahiru does her best to make it look like she hasn’t been glancing up worriedly every two seconds ever since he bolted to his room with dripping hands and a downright stormy look on his face. She's almost sure she fails, but does her best to smile encouragingly anyway. "You look better!" she comments, then inwardly kicks herself. Of course he does, dummy! "I-I just mean, you left so fast and looked really worried before!"

A heartbeat, a breath for courage, smile slipping as her worry comes out. "Fakir...is everything okay?" Pink dusts her cheeks at how forward that might sound. They're closer now, and she asked if he was okay the other day, but this is different. She waves her hands in front of herself, peering to the side as embarrassment burns her ears. "I-I know I'm not very good at—at helping people, but—" she looks back at him so earnestly, little fists balled up, it actually hurts, "—I'll still do my best!"

Fakir can't help but stare, heart sinking and thudding in his chest at the same time. She's...she really doesn't see her own worth, does she? Not at all. How could she, thinking she doesn't help, isn't good at helping? Does she not remember that, after all the years of doing his very best, she is the one who brought his best friend, his brother, his Mytho, out of his traumatized shell? Hell, she's bringing him out of his own more and more every day?

This girl... God, she'll be the death of him.

He doesn't stop himself from hugging her, though he thinks belatedly that maybe he should have asked first. She squeaks against him, and he looks down to make sure she's okay, but she just looks surprised. He laughs softly. "You help more than you will ever know, Ahiru." He lets that sink in for a moment. "And yes, everything's fine. In fact," he pulls away and tries not to laugh or get shy himself at how red and shocked (maybe even touched?) her face is, "how do you feel about coming home with me for the holiday break in a few days?"

She immediately looks ready to protest, but he beats her to it. "Mytho and Rue won’t be coming home to visit until later, and even then, we have a spare room. My father and little sister are really excited to meet you. They already have the room ready and everything." Maybe a bit of an exaggeration on his part, the bit about the room, that is, but hey, if it can convince her to come...

She looks conflicted, hopeful, and then, "R-really? Are you sure? I won't be too much trouble? Your father's a smith, right? I don't want to mess anything up!"

Fakir blinks, then laughs. So she remembered, huh? "Yes, I'm sure. Absolutely. And no, I'm sure you won't be. Charon is a smith, yes, but you won't get in the way, I promise. His forge is separate from the house, and I can't see you needing to visit it, so it should be fine."

She still looks a little uncertain, biting her lip slightly. She really doesn’t want to impose...but it sounds like she wouldn’t be, and in her heart, the idea of being with someone for the holidays, not being alone? It sounds like a dream come true!

It doesn’t take her more than half a second to decide.

She's the one who hugs him this time, her arms tight around his middle as she presses her face into his chest, smiling so much that her cheeks hurt. "Thank you, Fakir!" she says softly, nuzzling in a little more, what must be subconsciously.

Fakir is frozen, not even daring to breathe, but given a few moments, he finally lets himself hug her back. Maybe a touch closer than last time. A warm smile comes through. It’s the first time he’s ever gotten to return her embrace. "You're welcome, Ahiru. My family can't wait to meet you."

[forgetthetimetravel]

Day 3: Chocolate

Mythotutu week 2020 - @felixespinal

Ahiru sighed down at her haphazardly wrapped box of misshapen chocolates. She had wanted to do better, she had tried! A million times! It was her and Mytho's first Valentine's as a couple, and she wanted everything to be perfect. Like him.

And here she was, after over a week of practicing forming the melted chocolate into something other than a blob vaguely shaped like, well, anything recognizable, with chocolates that still looked like someone forgot how shapes worked but tried anyway.

Ahiru sighed again, heavily. Maybe she should just toss the present and give him a hug or something. But she always did that... "I'm such an idiot…"

"I wouldn't say that."

"M-Mytho!" Ahiru jumped, dropping the box. Thankfully it fell into a remaining snowbank, though if they had shattered maybe she could blame the shapes on that… 

Before she could check, though, Mytho picked it up. "What's this?"

Ahiru froze, but then tried to laugh it off. "Oh, that?? N-nothing! Nothing at all, aahaha…"

"Really? It's got a bow on it."

"Of course it does! I mean—"

"Do you often put bows on random boxes?" Mytho's smile told her more than his tone.

She flushed. Mytho always caught on to her plans, but player along anyway until she realized it. She was getting better at it. It was both embarrassing and endearing. "I— I mean, it's Valentine's, so—"

"So it's for someone?" He continued, smile widening. "Someone special?"

Ahiru's face grew hotter. "Maybe."

"I wonder who it could be?"

She couldn't take any more. "Okay fine! It's for you! They're for you! But they didn't turn out very good so I wasn't going to give them because you deserve—"

Mytho was already opening the wrapping.

"H-heeey!" She tried to snatch the box back. "I was still explaining!"

Mytho held it out of reach for a moment, but then let her take the half-opened box back. He looked at her innocently. "Its a gift for me, isn't it? From you?"

Ahiru quieted, still red. "... yes…"

"Then I want to see it~" He snatched the box back before she could protest and took the rest of it off.

Ahiru froze at the sight of the misshapen chocolate lumps. None had been impacted in the least by the fall into the snow, and even she had a hard time trying to figure out what they were at this angle.

"... Did you make these?"

Ahiru looked at her shoes and nodded miserably. "I tried to get the hang of it, I practiced a lot, but—"

"They're lovely, Ahiru."

She looked up, shocked.

His smile wasn't mocking,or pitying. It was warm and gentle, and very sincere.

"Wha….? Are you sure?"

"Of course I am." He took a small bite of one piece, and smiled at her. "And they taste even better than they look!"

Ahiru was blushing again, but for an entirely different reason. "O-oh… um. Well. H-happy Valentine's…. Mytho."

"Happy Valentine's Ahiru~" He gave her a small peck on her cheek. 

Ahiru could have melted faster than any chocolate in that very moment. And she should know.

[littlepurinsesu]

A Happy Ending

Title: A Happy Ending Fandom: Princess Tutu Characters: Fakir, Ahiru Relationship: Fakir/Ahiru Rating: General Warnings: None

*Read on AO3*

Summary: ‘But what do you want? What is the story that you wish for? Stop thinking only about granting happy endings to others and start thinking about yourself for once. Spin your own story. Create your own world. Write your happy ending.’

Author’s Notes: My re-entry into the world of fanfiction after many, many years. And I'm only posting it now.

I'd stopped writing for pleasure during the final years of high school and somehow never came back to it again... until I finished watching Princess Tutu. This anime inspired me to pick up my pen again (more like place my fingers on the keyboard again) after so many years of neglecting one of my biggest hobbies. I wouldn't say I'm entirely happy with how this story turned out, but it's an important one to me as it marks my first piece of creative writing for myself after being drowned in academic writing for so long. Would I have written some parts differently or done things another way if I approached this now? Probably. But I have no intention of changing anything, and will just let this little piece rest here with my collection of new fanfics. As a record of how my writing was when I rediscovered my long-lost passion, if you may.

I'd thought this fic would never see the light of day, but here it is, in all its rusty glory. A reminder to myself that I came to read, but I stayed to write.

Once upon a time, there was a man who began writing a story.

The man granted happy ending upon happy ending, crafting a world in which all characters could live life as they desired. And when he immersed himself in his bouts of creative labour, she never strayed from his line of vision. The single feather standing upright atop her head and the tiny flutter of her wings were constants in his life that reminded him of why he wrote.

He wrote because of her. She was his muse.

The man had moved on from his inability to spin stories that were not about her, but he held dearly to the loving hope that had emitted from her tiny body the day he had written Drosselmeyer’s story out of its predestined tragic ending. Since that day, he had tucked the feeling of that warm light safely within the depths of his heart, and turned to it for guidance during those dark times when his quill would hover above his parchment, lost and doubtful. The man would have been content to write story after story about the gentle affection he felt whenever she smiled, or the burning desire in his chest whenever he looked into her eyes, but he had a duty to lead the townspeople to the happy endings they yearned for.

He never forgot the decision he made when he tore apart Drosselmeyer’s mechanism, the very device that gave birth to the tragedy that the twisted man so loved. Reducing the godly contraption to nothing but a cluttered pile of gears and wiring, he had vowed to take it upon himself to write the rest of the story by his own hand and give people the wings they needed to live as freely as they pleased.

But when he tried to write of prosperous villages and harmonious townsfolk, his hand would sometimes stray. And before he realised, the ink spilling from the tip of his quill would begin to engrave words evoking the images that would seep into his mind when he allowed it to wander. The playful flick of her hair, the subtle upward curve of her lips, and the bright sparkle that illuminated her eyes. The way her voice would crack a little when she became visibly excited, and the way she landed in a pile of jumbled limbs whenever she tried to move faster than her petite body could carry her. The soothing warmth of her chest pressed against his, the very first time he had written a story about her, called out her name, and caught her in his arms. And the tiny vibrations her body would make whenever she groomed her silky feathers, nestled comfortably in his lap, her tiny frame fitting so easily as if the place were made for her and her only.

These musings had no plot—there was no beginning, no middle, and no end. Only a stream of disconnected memories that he kept locked away in the deepest crevices of his mind. And when the fear of exposure dawned upon him, the man would tear the page out and shred it to pieces.

He was the writer, the spinner of stories, and the incoherent digressions of his heart were only a hindrance—no, a shame—to his duty.

Autor had often complained begrudgingly over the basket of stale bread and bottled milk he brought during his visits. The bespectacled Drosselmeyer enthusiast kept the man from forgetting to eat and sleep, perhaps taking this chance to indirectly exercise some authority over the gift he had missed out on. It was probably more out of a futile attempt at feigning importance in the grand scheme of things (‘Seriously, how would the world go on if I wasn’t here to keep you from starving yourself?’), but the man didn’t mind. Autor was not without his wisdom, and sometimes, he would share this with him in his usual condescending tone.

‘You’ve created a hopeful new world with your powers. You’ve created happy endings for countless people. You’ve created life, but life itself is draining out of your very own soul.’

The man hadn’t bothered to protest; Autor meant well, and was probably right. The prince he had sworn to protect had returned to his story with Rue, Princess Tutu’s mission had ended and she had ceased to appear again in this world. A knight who had long since cast away his sword in favour of his quill now pledged his service to the people of the town. There was no longer an epic crisis which required his hand to bring about salvation, so his duty now was to make sure that the people continued to freely live the happy endings they desired and deserved. And if writing happy endings could give people what they wished for, then the man was willing to devote himself to write for as long as he could.

‘But what do you want?’ Autor had blurted out in exasperation during one of his last visits. ‘What is the story that you wish for?’

‘A story… that I wish for?’

‘Yes. Stop thinking only about granting happy endings to others and start thinking about yourself for once. Spin your own story. Create your own world. Write your happy ending.’

He thought of a tiny bundle of velvety yellow feathers, warm under his touch and quivering with life. Of a clumsy figure bursting with vigour as she bounded from one place to the next, her candid laughter echoing in her wake. Of an elegant dancer, whose every movement spoke of grace, and whose every leap seemed to bring her closer to the glory of the heavens above.

Of her.

And so the man began to write. There would be a beginning when she would resume the guise of a human girl, a middle when they would find each other again, and an ending when…

His quill stopped mid-sentence, ink pooling and seeping into the extra pages beneath.

He tore the piece of parchment from the pile. It had nothing but a vague and disoriented sequence of events and empty descriptions of a world he could not have—futile attempts at allowing himself a happy ending, and they brought him embarrassment at his own selfishness. After all, what kind of closure could he possibly craft for the two of them, when he had thrown away that dream on the day he decided to forbid himself from writing the happy ending he secretly craved?

Perhaps Drosselmeyer’s ghost had heard his thoughts, or maybe some other godly figure of authority with a more skillful set of hands than he, as a gust of wind promptly snatched the page from his hand before he could destroy it. The man grabbed blindly at the air, feet tangling and eyes fixed ahead of him as he watched the parchment land on the surface of the tranquil lake. Water seeped through the parchment, the blurred contours of his senseless imagination mocking him. Air and then water met the soles of his shoe as he unwittingly stepped straight through the surface of the glassy mirror in his blind fumbling, landing with an unceremonious splash. He thought he caught a quick glimpse of blurred yellow and two orbs of crystalline blue turning in his direction before his vision was completely clouded.

The water was frigid, chilling him to the bone as he sank deeper into its shadowy depths. Funny, the lake had seemed almost shimmery and translucent from the safety of his little wooden platform, yet now all he could see were foggy distortions of light and shade. It was pointless to try and retrieve that piece of parchment now. The water had already claimed the ink as its own, and he was left with nothing but the fond visions and memories of her, flapping, changing, swimming…

He searched the haze above for two webbed feet, those that paddled beside him when he wrote by the lake, their soft swishing sound the most comforting music a writer could ask for. But there was mostly just grey, quite a bit of black, an occasional patch of blue where the sunlight could still reach, and there was… white. Somewhere in the distance above him, a glimmering smear of white. Its light was bright enough to make him close his eyes, but it was welcoming, almost beckoning him to reach out and wrap his fingers around it. He extended his hand blindly and caught it in his palm.

The light was as warm as he imagined, yet somehow more firm than he was expecting. There was a gentle tug, followed by a more sturdy pull, and the man opened his eyes to meet a pure white tutu and strawberry blond hair, and eyes as blue as the frosty water around him, but warm enough to tingle in his soul and enliven his senses.

He would have gasped, or even pulled back. But then again, this had to be a dream—a hallucination of his, right? Her pendant—the last heart shard—had been given back to Mytho, who had returned to the world of his own story. She had no necklace now, and the enchanted ballerina looked almost strange without her usual accessory resting against the skin of her chest.

Come to think of it, why wasn’t he thrashing about and struggling for air? It must have been an illusion after all, the final moments when a person’s life flashed before his eyes. The man was staring his death in the face, and his death was absolutely breathtaking. If this was but a mere fantasy, he would be content to die if that meant he could relive these final moments as the happy ending he had once only dared to dream of.

‘Please, won’t you dance with me?’

She never opened her mouth, but her eyes spoke her signature words with the way they softened at the edges, just like the way they did each time she would charm a shard of the prince’s heart into a pas de deux of love and hope.

Right, they had danced together like this before, submerged in the depths of water. It had been in the Lake of Despair, he remembered now, when Drosselmeyer had made his forceful attempt at thrusting his ideal tragedy upon them through the man’s unwilling hands. That time, he had lifted her, spun her round and round, cradled her in his arms, and dipped her into a split. He had looked intently into her eyes and held her gaze tenderly as he assured her that he would stay by her side forever. He had been prepared for the end, and this here was yet another end. Their end. No, his end.

Were their dances always destined to take place when the end was in sight?

But this time was different, wasn’t it? How could he possibly be drowning in despair when he was feeling such warmth rising in his chest, when the figure holding his hand was smiling so lovingly at him? Could he truly say that he was falling into darkness when his heart soared with joy at each movement, each step of the pas de deux they were engaged in now?

Light began to seep into his vision, brightening his surroundings. If dying meant that his ascension to Heaven would be guided by the presence at his side, he would happily welcome death. Maybe he could finally allow himself to be just a little bit selfish, as Autor had indignantly advised, and drown himself in his world. The world he wished for. Yes, this was his happy ending, he decided, as the ballerina lifted his arm and brought him into the blinding light.

He wanted to call out to her, to ask where she would go, to ask if he could ever see her again after this dance ended. But when he opened his mouth, he could only let out a cough, then a splutter, and then he was gasping for oxygen, his back pressed against the warm wood and his head almost touching the leg of the chair he had been sitting on… some time ago. Time had seemed to flow in slow motion, and he had lost all track of it during the timeless moment in which he had encountered the world he wished for, danced with his dream, and held his happy ending in his arms.

‘Fakir!’

When he finally lifted himself onto his elbows and took in the sight of her—wet hair plastered down the side of her face, droplets trickling down her naked body, eyes shining with love and hope—he knew that this was not his happy ending after all. She leapt, arms extended and face split into a wide and toothy grin. And as she landed in his embrace, he understood.

This was only the beginning, and they had an entire future ahead of them to live out as many happy endings as they wished.

[azuregold]

Valentine asks: just answer all the ones you can ! (so kind of all of them, but also not mandatory if the answer is just "none" XD)

Hey, this only took me…what, three days? Ahaha. Ships are hard, IDK. X’D

Putting this under a cut because I’m really insecure about telling people what I like even though I did a stellar job of being incredibly vague/giving non-answers and thus didn’t actually give away that much ^^;.

Your favourite non-canon ship?Kaneki/Hide.

Is there a ship you didn’t like at first but ultimately started shipping?NaLu, I guess? I never hated it, and I’m not head over heels for it now, but I used to not get the appeal at all and now it’s the Natsu ship I’m most willing to read, so… ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

What is the rarest rare pair (that you ship)?Hmm…I’m kind of vaguely interested in Natsu/Sting, but I’ve hardly ever seen fic for it, and never with a dynamic I’m interested in.

Name a popular ship you don’t get the appeal of.ZoSan. ^^;

What is your most fluffy + happy ship?Fluffy…happy…none of the ships I can think of right now fit that description all that well. X’D Not that they’re nothing but angst and pain, but the characters’ lives are complicated enough that calling things fluffy and happy feels misleading.

What is your most angsty ship?Hmm…probably Kaneki/Hide?

A non-canon ship that should be canon?I’d love to see any of my non-canon ships become canon—I’m more likely to ship canon pairings because I like to see it happen “for real”/don’t like seeing them end up with someone else—but saying a ship “should” be canon feels too much like telling people what to like and like the kind of thing that leads to ship wars, so I’m not going to name any ship in particular.

Your oldest ship; the one you’ve shipped for the longest time?Hmm…probably Shinichi/Ran?

What ship represents the kind of relationship you’d love to have?Toby/Tybalt. Only, y'know, without all the dangerous plot going on.

Is there a ship that makes your skin crawl?I’m sure, but nothing’s coming to mind. Maybe I’ve blocked out the memory. X’D

What is a character you can only imagine in one particular ship?Shinichi.

What is your favourite canon ship?Toby/Tybalt.

Name a ship that deserved more content.IDK. I know I’ve had the “that’s it?!” feeling at the end of something several times, but not from anything I’ve watched or read recently, so I can’t name any.

Is there a ship you feel gets undeserved hate in fandom?I think a lot of ships do, especially canon pairings in fandoms where the majority of fans prefer one or more non-canon ships (or if there’s a love triangle in canon *blech*). I don’t know if there’s one in particular that stands out to me, though.

What is the first ship you had?IDK, probably something from Disney or something I watched/read as a kid. I don’t really remember. ^^;

Is there a ship that made you realise something about yourself?Not that I can think of?

Is there a type of ship you always go for?Almost always (there are always things that can happen to put me off a ship even if it fit all of these, but): Ships where one person is human and the other is some flavor of supernatural; ships with snarky/sarcastic (but still caring) banter; ships where the love and loyalty really shines through (e.g. one person protecting the other or sacrificing something for the other, one person demonstrating that they want the person they love to be happy even if it means they’re not together).

Is there a ship the writers have ruined for you?Pretty sure, but again, nothing recent so IDK.

Is there a ship the fandom has ruined for you?Probably. ^^;

Have you ever created fan created content for a ship?Nope. Maybe someday.

Favourite thing you’ve ever created for a ship?*points to last question*

Is there a ship you’ll never admit you have?Well, never say never and all, but there’s definitely a couple I don’t plan on talking about anytime soon.

Have you ever started shipping a ship because of the fans?Only in the sense that I’ve read fics with an interesting summary and a pairing I wasn’t sold on and it was done well enough to make me more open to reading that ship in the future. I don’t think I’ve ever actually started shipping something because of fans.

What is one scene you want to see happen for all your ships?A scene that demonstrates their love for each other. Not like a confession scene, just…something they do or say that really shows they care about each other, especially if they didn’t have to do the thing but did anyway because they wanted to.

Is there a ship you wish you didn’t know existed?Several. OTL

Name a ship that ended like you wanted it to.I…can’t really…think of any. OTL Most of what I’ve been reading/watching lately either didn’t have any ships I really cared about or hasn’t ended yet, and trying to remember older stuff is just ??? Maybe Fakir/Ahiru? I mean, I really wanted to see more of their story, but at the same time it was a pretty good way to leave things?

Name a ship that deserved better in the end.I’m sure I have some, but… ┐(‘～`;)┌

Is there a character you have several ships for?Quite a few. It’s pretty common these days for me to have at least one “main” ship plus one or more “backup” ships I’ll be willing to read for a character. There are some characters I’m only interested in one pairing for (and some I don’t want to see paired with anyone), but I like having things to read, so I try to keep my options open and not get too set on one ship like I used to. I’ll throw Rin (AnE) up as an example: I have one ship I love, two I like, and at least two more that I would probably read fic for except I’ve never seen any.

What is the ship you ignore 98% of canon for?I don’t think I have one? If you ignore 98% of canon, are they even the same characters? ^^;

Is there a ship you like but you dislike the fandom?Kind of, but I’m not going to name names because I don’t like lumping an entire group of people together and I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings. ^^;

[twinkletoes-rp]

Princess Tutu College AU Ch. 4 - “Fourth Position”

(Can also be read on FFN | AO3 | Previous | Next )

--

“You should talk to someone,” Fakir says out of the blue, between bites of his vanilla swirl. “About the bullying, I mean.”

Ahiru’s mouth is full of her double-fudge banana split, so she pauses and tilts her head, raising an eyebrow questioningly. She has an ice cream mustache, and Fakir can’t help but chuckle helplessly fondly before motioning to her lip so she knows. With someone he’s closer to, like Mytho, he might reach over there himself, but…he doesn’t think they’re on that level yet (he’s doing his best to hide his blush just thinking about it). She moves to wipe it off, smiling at him a little more in thanks, and he softens.

How could anyone bully this girl? Not that he has much room to talk in others’ eyes, but his intentions were to be helpful. Unlike those girls today and Melody’s before… That reminds him, he needs to talk to Melody after this, maybe tomorrow if it gets too late. Honestly, though… Ahiru doesn’t have a mean bone in her body. All she ever does is her best to help people and be there in any way she can, even those who might not deserve it. Hell, she is the one who got Mytho to smile and laugh and be human again when he couldn’t, despite years of trying…! It just…doesn’t make sense to him. None of it.

Ahiru swallows, beaming at the flavors before she turns her attention back to Fakir. “So, what did you mean, ‘talk to someone?’”

Coming out of his thoughts, he looks up at her, absently working to carve out the perfect spoonful. “You know, like one of the school’s guidance counselors. Someone you can talk to about what the bullies are doing and how it makes you feel.” She’s looking at him like she’s wondering why in the world she’d do that, and he sighs. “You were confused and hurt today when they accused you of being stuck up, right? And when they brought me into it…” that still makes him clench his fist, “…it made it worse, right? It added sadness and even more hurt to the mix.” She blinks, and it makes him look away, cheeks red. They’re both quietly wondering when he learned to read her half as well. His voice is low and shy when he speaks up again. “I just mean, if you’re hurting…you should have someone to talk to…” His other fist clenches now, voice dropping even more and somewhat tight with frustration. “If I can’t help, then…”

“But you do!”

His gaze snaps to her, eyes wide. She’s standing up all of a sudden, leaning on her bandaged palms on the table, expression adorably earnest, the emotions in her bright blue eyes lit up all the more by the setting sun. In this moment, she looks almost…ethereal. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen her look so beautiful. The thought makes him blush, but it’s true. He wishes he could take a picture and show her the next time she gets down on herself.

“I mean it! Really!” She must think his silence means disbelief. Before he can correct her, she’s already charging ahead. “You defended me with Melody! You came to my defense with those girls today! You patched me up after it all! You didn’t have to do any of that, but you did it anyway! You don’t even have to be helping me do better in my classes, but you are!” She smiles at him widely, softening, and he’s not sure why, but seeing her like this, while she’s exalting him and looking so, well, pretty…it’s doing things to his heart he doesn’t understand.

Sighing gently through her nose in calming some, she sits down again. “I’m just saying…” She reaches across the table to rest her hand on his and squeeze without hesitation. He starts, eyes widening and cheeks coloring even more. His heart’s beating quickly in his chest, and that increases when he sees the light blush across the bridge of her nose. What the hell is wrong with him? “You help me more than you give yourself credit for, Fakir. And I want you to know, I really, really appreciate it. Hopefully you know that already, but just in case,” she bows her head low, “thank you very much, for everything. The extra lessons, protecting me…” she straightens and gives him a sweet, tender smile he’s never seen from her before, but would not mind seeing again, particularly if he’s the cause, “…but most of all, for being my friend. You’re the best.”

Fakir is pretty sure he’s forgotten how to speak. He’s also pretty sure he’s on fire and his heart’s going to burn itself out in a moment or two. But he doesn’t want to leave her hanging or make her think he doesn’t appreciate what she just said – on the contrary, he thinks that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to him – so he takes a shaky bite of his ice cream to give a shock to his system. Luckily, it works, and he’s able to breathe again. Thank goodness.

Taking a deep breath, he smiles for her in a way that’s so soft, it makes her throat constrict, and after fighting off the moment’s hesitation, he reaches over to hold her hand on his. “Thank you. That…” his smile grows, and Ahiru can feel her ears burning, “…I’m glad I could help you that much.” Squeezing her hand, he stands up. “You don’t have to thank me, though. It’s the least I can do.”

Ahiru blinks at that, knowing there’s more to it, but not sure what he could mean. Least he can do for what? Is he still talking about how he treated her before? She thought his training was his penance for that… But if he means something else, she can’t imagine what. But before she can think on it more, he’s gently drawing her to her feet and nodding the way they came. “We should head back. It’s getting late, and even if we got lucky and didn’t get caught missing curfew last time, I wouldn’t make a habit of it.”

Filing her confusion away for later, she picks up the rest of her sundae and nods, handing him what little of his swirl he has left. “Okay!”

It’s quiet on the way back, at least for the most part. She asks a few questions about the guidance counselors, and it turns out, he knows quite a bit. She wonders why, if he’s had any reason to see them, brow furrowing in concern. But then, she remembers their first day, when Mytho fell from the second story window saving a baby bird and almost died, and she thinks she understands. She’s almost surprised they didn’t send her, too, come to think of it, being directly involved…but it was a really busy time for everyone, so she’s not shocked she was accidentally overlooked.

“You know…” she looks at him when he speaks up again, quieter and more hesitant this time, keeping his gaze straight ahead so he doesn’t lose his nerve,“…if you’re nervous about going alone to see the counselors, I…don’t mind going with you. They probably won’t let me sit in on the appointment with you since that’s supposed to be confidential, but I can wait with you until your name’s called.” Suddenly realizing how that might sound, like he doesn’t think she’s brave enough to go on her own or something, he throws caution to the wind and whips to face her, hoping she can’t see his embarrassed flush. “I-I just mean, if—if you want and if—if it would make you feel better...!”

Ahiru’s eyes widen, she blinks, and then she beams, fists pumped at half-mast. “Wait, really?! You really wouldn’t mind?” He’s about to remind her he just said that when the sheer brightness of her beam blinds him. She gives a happy sound, almost like a quack. “Oh, thank you, Fakir! I’ve never talked to a counselor before, so I was really nervous, but I didn’t want to sound like a baby!”

There’s a happy spring and skip in her step now, and he watches her for a second before chuckling helplessly and shaking his head. “You’re welcome.” He reaches out to catch her wrist, and she stops, tilting her head questioningly. “But being scared doesn’t make you childish. It makes you smart. If you’re not afraid, you might get cocky and make mistakes. Besides, you were going to do it anyway, right? Just like you’ve stayed at this school despite everything that’s been thrown at you?” She nods, but she still looks confused, and he finds himself softening again. This girl… “That makes you brave, Ahiru.”

Realization starts lighting her eyes, and he’s glad. Actually, now that he thinks about it, from the time he first started to notice Ahiru while she worked to help Mytho open up again and all she’s done until now…she might be the bravest person he’s ever met… Huh…

When he looks over at her, she’s beaming again, singing a little song to herself as she skips along, and he falls into step at her side, a content smile on his face.

Once they reach their dorm, Fakir’s digging out the key when Ahiru bumps his shoulder with hers. He glances at her, eyebrow raised. She’s grinning brightly, hands clasped behind her back. “Thank you for today. The ice cream was great!” She rocks back and forth on the balls of her feet, humming happily.

Fakir just breathes a laugh and smiles right back. “Don’t mention it. I enjoyed it, too.”

--

A few days later, as promised, Fakir accompanies Ahiru to the guidance office. It’s pretty quiet, a bright and early morning in the middle of the week, but their classes were canceled today due to Cat-sensei being out sick, so they decided to take advantage of the time. Fakir helps her get set up, and then they go wait. It’s not long before a door opens a few doors down and the strangest woman Ahiru’s ever seen pokes her head out. “Ahiru Arima?”

In her nervousness, the redhead shoots out of her chair so quickly she stumbles, but pays that no mind as she throws her hand in the air. “P-present!”

Fakir is quick to smother his would-be laugh while the woman barely bats an eye before ducking back inside her office. “This way, please.”

“Ah! Right!” Ahiru turns to Fakir with a grin and a small wave. “Thanks, Fakir! See you back home!”

With that, she hurries inside the room, shutting the door behind her. Fakir, for his part, rests his chin on his palm with a soft smile. He might as well get comfortable. He’s not sure how long this will take.

On the other side of the door, Ahiru realizes the woman who’s supposed to be her guidance counselor is even stranger-looking than she first thought. Mint green hair in an unusually curled, defying-gravity style, she’s probably the palest person Ahiru’s ever seen. Her makeup is also…interesting, almost clown-like, only a little prettier and less unnerving, and that’s not saying anything about her clothes. They’re like something out of a circus. Honestly, all together, the woman seems almost…doll-like, or maybe like some kind of marionette from a puppet show. It’s weird, but that’s honestly the most accurate description she can think of.

Not that any of that’s a bad thing, of course! At least it makes her interesting! And for all she knows, maybe it’ll make her a better counselor! Why else would they have her here first thing in the morning?

The woman seems to have been observing her, too, in between putting a record on her player in the corner of the room. Setting the needle, she sits down again just as the music starts to play. It’s a lively tune, fun and almost carnival-like…but it also sounds…sad and eerie somehow? Huh… So she has an odd taste in music, too… It fits her, though!

“My name is Edel, and your name is Ahiru.”

Ahiru jumps in shock. “W-wait, how do you know my name?!” ‘Edel’ silently holds up a folder with ‘Arima, Ahiru’ written on the label. The girl blushes. “O-oh…”

“Your incident report says you’ve had trouble with bullies recently.”

Remembering the reason for her visit, Ahiru slumps a bit, her good mood dampening. “Y-yeah…”

“May those who accept their fate be granted happiness. May those who defy their fate be granted glory.”

The aspiring ballerina snaps up to look at her, interest piqued. “Huh?” She tilts her head. “Is that a quote from somewhere? What’s it mean?”

“You are only experiencing this bullying because you are trying to deft your fate, are you not?”

Somehow, that didn’t help. She’s even more confused now. “‘My fate?’”

She looks back in the folder for Ahiru’s scores and teachers’ comments. “Your teachers and fellow students referred to you as the worst dancer in the school. You even did yourself.” She puts the file down. “But you still keep trying, still dance, still pursue your dream, like the flower bud determined to bloom even without sun to nourish it.” She nods toward the door. “Recently, though, it seems you found a sun that helps to push back the dark clouds and encourage your natural growth.”

It takes a good few moments for Ahiru to wade through the metaphors and all, and she still doesn’t really get the ‘fate’ and ‘glory’ stuff, but she flushes brightly when she figures out the end. “W-wait, are you talking about Fakir?!” Edel nods. “Qua—?!” She throws her hands over her mouth.

“Stories are better with supporting characters.”

Forgetting her panic for a second in her sudden confusion, Ahiru stares at the woman for a beat or two before a soft “Huh?” pops out.

“Stories have their main characters, but they’d be nothing without their supporting roles. Main characters struggle and break, and if there’s no one there to pick them up when they’re at their lowest, the story will end prematurely. All stories have to end, of course, but if they do before their time?” She holds her index finger. “That, Ahiru, is what they call a tragedy.”

Ahiru feels like her head is spinning. She’s even more lost than before she asked. Maybe she shouldn’t have asked at all. Is this…actually supposed to be helping her…? “I don’t understand what you’re saying, Miss Edel…”

Edel doesn’t say anything in return, only because the record’s reached its end. She gets up to change it, and while she does, Ahiru keeps thinking. Hmm… Maybe…? Could that…? Well, maybe, but… Geez, this is weird. Is this what guidance counselors are always like, talking in riddles?

All at once, though, she thinks she gets it, and she sits up straighter, snapping her fingers with a big smile. “You mean that Fakir and I are meant to be friends, right? We’re both characters supporting each other!” She doesn’t call him a supporting character or herself a main one on purpose. He’s way too good to be secondary character material, and there’s no way she’s good enough to be a main. So, she’s keeping it neutral. “And all that stuff you said about glory and fate before? You meant I should keep fighting, right? Fakir will help me, and we’ll find glory – and hopefully happiness, too, since that’s important – together!”

Feeling more confident and assured than she has since the incident with Melody’s friends, Ahiru doesn’t give Edel the chance to reply before she’s leaping out of her chair and running for the door. Hand on the doorknob, she turns back with a bright smile, bowing low before she forgets herself. “Thank you so much, Miss Edel! You’re really good at this!”

Edel blinks for a moment, then smiles and waves. The door slams in Ahiru’s excitement, but the woman doesn’t mind. Gaze falling to the folder on her desk again, she lets her thumb graze over the name. No one’s ever said anything like that to her before…

Outside, Fakir jumps a bit at Ahiru slamming the door, worried for a moment that maybe something went wrong or the counselor was a jerk. But he’s relieved in the next moment to see her beaming face and a light in her eyes that hasn’t quite been there since the incident the other day. Standing, he glances toward Edel’s door. “I take it it went well?”

She nods with an affirmative hum. “It was great! She was really strange, and she talked in riddles, but she helped me out a lot!”

Fakir isn’t sure what to make of most of that, but he’s not going to question it as long as she’s smiling. “That’s good. I’m really happy to hear that.” He inclines his head toward the main desk. “You can make another appointment to see her at the end of the week or next or whenever you want, if you feel like it. Seeing her regularly might be a good idea, at least for a little while.”

Ahiru thinks for a moment, but it’s really not a hard decision. Edel’s already really helped her, so knowing that she can come see her whenever she needs it? She’s definitely on board! Fists pumped at half-mast, she nods firmly. “Mm hmm!”

While she’s filling out the paperwork, Fakir standing by if she needs help, he does a double-take when something out the window catches his eye. Melody is walking by, a few books in her arms. She looks lost in thought. Hopefully, she’s feeling guilty for what her friends did to Ahiru the other day or maybe even afraid of what he’ll do when he finds her. Wouldn’t that be appropriate? Whatever the case, Fakir knows he can’t pass up this chance with classes out.

Turning to Ahiru, he does his best to hide his anger at Melody so it doesn’t poison his small smile and make Ahiru worry or think she did something wrong. “I’m going to take care of something. You can head back to the dorm when you’re done, and then we can get some practice in, if you want.”

Ahiru finishes filling in her last line and then turns to raise an eyebrow at him, but he’s already nearly to the door. She doesn’t even have time to ask what he’s talking about. “Ah—o-okay! Good luck!”

He waves, and then he’s gone. She’s so confused…

--

Fakir knows where Melody’s headed, he’s heard her talk about her schedule to her posse enough times, so he waits in the hallway a few doors down from her study group’s meeting room. Some people might find this creepy, but he calls it using what he has to his advantage. When Melody rounds the corner and sees him, she stops in her tracks and narrows her eyes suspiciously. “What are you doing here, Drosselmeyer?”

“Why did you send your clique to pick on Ahiru?”

She flinches a bit at his icy tone, but she’s not stupid enough to miss the red-hot fury underneath. Her glare hardens. “What are you talking about? When?”

“A few days ago, not that it matters. They ganged up on her in front of one of the practice rooms and pushed her down so she hurt herself and called her conceited. Then they brought me into it and claimed I called her ‘hopeless’ when—” He cuts himself off, looking away and clenching his fist while he works to control his ire. Melody swallows, looking him over. She’s beginning to notice a pattern with Fakir—or maybe, since it’s only happened twice so far, coincidence would be the better word for it (though she has no doubt it’ll turn into a pattern soon enough). He only gets flustered to this extent when that Ahiru girl’s involved. He sighs roughly through his nose, shoving his bangs from his face. “They took it out of context.”

He clenches his other fist and pushes off the wall to face her fully. “They hurt her,” coming closer, he points at her furiously, “and I want to know why. Was it revenge? Are you that much of a petty coward?” He’s not giving her room to answer or argue, he knows that, but he’s too pissed off, and luckily, she’s smart enough to know that interrupting him would only stoke his fire. “More than that, did you really think I wouldn’t find out?”

She waits a few seconds to make sure he’s really done, and then she’s glowering right back. Its heat is nothing compared to his, but it might be enough to sear a leaf or something. “I didn’t ‘send them’ to do anything. I didn’t even know they did anything until now. I’ve been busy with study groups. Ever since that day in class where you told me off, I’ve left her alone. Sure, my friends wanted me to get back at her, but I’m not dumb enough to go up against you.”

She’s not just saying that either. She doesn’t think he’d hurt her, not really, he’s still a gentleman, more or less, but he does have influence of his own, being one of the top dancers in the school and mostly well-liked for being such a loner. He could still get her punished, maybe even get the headmaster to call her parents, and they wouldn’t take this lightly. They only let her go here because she convinced them it would be best for her ballet career. She can’t afford to be that stupid. “If they bullied her and hurt her, I’m sorry. I’ll talk to them. But I had nothing to do with it.”

Fakir isn’t sure he should believe her, but he doesn’t get the feeling she’s lying either. Sure, she’s a little nervous, but not enough for a liar. She’s less combative and sassy than usual, which does confuse him, though. Maybe after their little tussle in class the other day, Cat-sensei chewed her out and threatened her with disciplinary action or something. He searches her face, but the feeling he gets doesn’t change. Finally, he sighs. “All right. I believe you. But I want you to know that I reported your friends to the school’s disciplinary officials, and if they keep it up, I will go to the headmaster.”

He starts walking back the way he came, but stops at her shoulder. “Thank you for keeping your word.” Then, lower, more warning, right beside her ear, “But I would tread lightly from now on. All of you. Ahiru Arima is off limits.” A heartbeat. “Remember that.”

With that, he continues on his way. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I promised Ahiru some practice.”