#anyways all this to say I think fakir would treat her the same as he did when she was a human

[lesbianfakir]

The ONLY romantic fakiru dynamic I will accept is fakir fighting for his life to bring a duck into a fancy restaurant so they can have a nice anniversary dinner

[chiibinomonodamon]

My Top 10 Shoujo/Josei Ships

Let’s address the elephant in the room. Yes, they are problematic which is why they rank last. No doubt. But like, they’re ten and children make mistakes. Especially children who are as unfortunate as Natsume. Natsume himself is probably the most offensive one in this list. But I just...really have a soft spot for brooding bad boys who secretly want to be saved by the cheerful nice girl and that’s not going to go away ANY time soon. I grew really fond of these two as the series went on. I just did.

Man, these two used to be a lot higher when I was younger (like the same age as them lol) KKJ was the first true cosplay I ever did! So...um, not so much in the anime (although he’s not totally innocent but he is better). Chiaki has...issues. Lol. To say he’s insecure...is probably an understatement. But when you look at his upbringing, it’s really no surprise. Maron is the only person he truly seems to care about so he’s going to cling and be needy. But she knows how to handle him. She’s always in control (not in a bad way) but in a way that’s good for both of them. I love how mature she is. He will learn from her....if he hasn’t already. Okay, they’re married with a baby so I would think adult!Chiaki has gotten over what made the teenage ship problematic. Besides, they totally have God’s approval; what more do you need? XD

  *laughs* Who here watched this for the episodic Phantom Thief plots?

*crickets chirp*

OF COURSE YOU F*CKING DIDN’T.

Ya all watched it hoping for these two....RIDICULOUS TSUNDERE...GOOBERS TO TURN AROUND ONE DAY AND CONFESS HOW MUCH THEY DREAM OF GETTING MARRIED TO EACH OTHER...

MeimixAsuka is the absolute classic “love-hate/ slap slap kiss” ship DONE RIGHT. Which is great because so many are done very very wrong (and I can think of quite a few in, ironically non-Japanese media...aimed at children...that can honest to God, be interpreted as downright abusive. *coughiCarlycough*

But not these two. They are so f*cking innocent. Delightfully innocent. Like, their most offensive action is to call each other “idiot”. But God forbid anybody ELSE do that...oh no, if you dare bad-mouth one in front of the other, he/she gets so mad. And that’s like the cutest shit ever.

OH HEY. IT’S THE ONE BL SHIP I ACTUALLY CARE ABOUT!! Um...well, these two are great. I thought they were great in college when I went through my fujoshi stage (ugh) BUT I STILL think they’re great NOW. This is the anime version of The Odd Couple. With more gay. xD These two are sweet as chocolate. Their interaction is just precious. What’s more important? THEY’RE ACTUALLY GOOD FOR EACH OTHER. No rape. No forcing feels on each other, great chemistry, comforting comforters; all the reasons you’d ship a regular boyxgirl pairing. This one just happens to be two boys. AND I STILL DON’T KNOW IF THIS EVER TURNED CANON AFJLFJLFJDLJF

This is one of those very few Childhood Friend Ships I’m all for. It’s kind of crazy that they were able to rank this high when I haven’t even finished their story yet. BUT I LOVE THEM. I was going to pick a ship and say “Imagine _____, except they’re little kids.” But actually, I’m having a hard time comparing them to another ship I can think of. So...they’re KINDA ‘Slap Slap Kiss’-ish but Seiya does not hide his feelings. AT ALL. He’s pretty out-spoken about it. And all he wants to do is sweep her off her feet...but it’s basically the other way around xD As for Ririka...going by Shoujo Logic, her crush on (wow he’s so boring I can’t even remember his stupid name LOL) is superficial and she subconsciously has deeper feelings for Seiya that she’s unaware of...but damn, she sure gets fired up when he’s hurt in front of her! So that gives me hope.

This is just a given. It’s HIGHLY unlikely you would find another “Best Shoujo Pairing” list WITHOUT them. So he’s already there but HURRY UP AND REALIZE YOU LOVE HIM, AHIRU. Lol dammit. The only hint we get from her is “Fakir always makes me stronger” and that SINGLE LINE is deeper than ANY thought she ever had about Mytho. Hell, I’m pretty sure Ikuko herself ships them hard. Their entire relationship is so beautifully crafted...just like the rest of the series except maybe for Ahiru’s crush on Mytho which just had me going “LOLWHY” the entire time.

“SLAP SLAP KISS” LITERALLY. All they do is fight...and then kiss. xD They’re always saving each other, supporting each other, underneath all those insults, then they get married and have two cute kids. Some people think Kazune’s too hard on her...but it’s “tough love”. He has to be because that’s what motivates her. Every single thing Kazune does in the series is strictly for her sake. Their main problem is miscommunication...but I think that goes away quickly so who cares?

Yes, yes, I know. We have two major problems here: The first is initial sexual harassment. Obviously.

But here’s the second problem:

IT’S  JUST TOO DAMN FCKING HOT.

Tooyama Ema knew how to turn up the sexual tension to ELEVEN with these two. Good lord, did she ever. This is by far the sexiest manga I’ve ever read!! Whoever coined the phrase “DOKI-DOKI MOTHERFUCKER” surely had to be reading about Yukina making Shigure do things and Shigure making Yukina do things. While the ship (born from blackmail) should strictly fall into ‘Guilty Pleasure Smut’ category, it only teeters on the edge. For me, at least. Why? Because the character development is actually really damn good. Shigure goes from Cold, Uncaring Magnificent Bastard to Excellent Tsundere Boyfriend Material quite steadily and beautifully. He’s also the only character in the series who can handle Yukina’s personality flaws. Basically, “he’s good for her” while the others are...um, terrible. xD

HEY. IT’S “ANIME TWILIGHT EXCEPT IT DOESN’T SUCK” SHIP.

It’s an ancient story. ‘Vampires make sexy boyfriends’. I believe this has been going on for a reeeeeeeeeeeeeeally long time. Like.....since the 30s, maybe? When did Anne Rice start writing? IDK ANYWAY IT’S A THING. Cutesy human girl wants vampire. The vampire is broody, dark, emo. “I’m dangerous. Stay away from me. You’ll only get hurt”. But they still turn into an off-again, on-again thing because he can’t make up his f*cking mind on whether to protect her at his side or “protect by neglect”. We’ve all heard it before.

EXCEPT THAT IS NOT THIS STORY.

No, it’s cutest f*cking damn vampire romance I’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing. And yeah, I did watch Karin and Tsukuyomi Moon Phase but I’m partial to vampire stories for women so fck that. lol. So...where to start. First of all, Riho loved him way before she even knew what he was. When she finds out, she still loves him. And he does do the “You’re better off not being with me because danger”. But he doesn’t say this to be edgy or to manipulate her; he says it because what he does is actually dangerous enough for her to get killed and he doesn’t want that. But she doesn’t give a damn. And he treats her like a princess. And she finds out how lonely he is and vows to always stay at his side and he respects her f*cking decisions and they go on cute dates and always comfort each other and just afjalfjalfjaijfIWEJFILOVETHISSHIPSOMUCH.

Before I get to #1, here’s some honorable mentions:

SakuraxSyaoran from CCS

YonaxHak from Akatsuki no Yona

KurosakixTeru from Dengeki Daisy

KirarixHiroto from Kirarin Revolution

DaichixNajika from Kitchen Princess

TamakixHaruhi from Ouran High School Host Club

ZeroxYuuki from Vampire Knight

Note: I am not good at top lists. This was insanely f*cking hard to do.

So....drumroll..........

WHO SAW THIS COMING?

WHO FCKING SAW THIS COMING?

IF YOU DIDN’T,

YOU DON’T KNOW ME.

GET OFF MY BLOG.

These two pairings are....like...they affect me in ways I just cannot fathom. Like...I literally do not understand how they’ve cast these obsessive spells on me...but they have. Fanart records do not lie. And mine...for both of them is ridiculous.

So why?

The best answer I can come up with is...

“Most emotionally deep”. They inspire me. They make me squeal with joy and break down sobbing. They give me warm fuzzy feelings while at the same time, tearing my heart to shreds. I just can’t get enough of either one. It’s almost like they’ve touched my soul somehow. I just don’t know. I don’t think there’s a ship that expresses the feeling of ‘soulmates’ stronger than these two ships. I feel like Takuto and Mitsuki and Issac and Rachel were born so they could meet each other. They’re both oddly similar...and yet different as night and day seewhatIdidtharwiththepics. I think “sacrifice” and “salvation” is what I respond most to when I think about ever-lasting true love. And everything about these four characters’ development is centered around these two things.

[an-aura-about-you]

Sweet Dreams

So yeah, why wasn’t Autor there during the conversation between Logos and Fakir from some time ago?

Autor raps his knuckles against the door, a mere formality at this point with him and Erina but one he can’t stop himself from doing once he’s started. After all, a degree of politeness when visiting his girlfriend unannounced will likely be appreciated, almost as much as the chocolate covered ants he managed to find for her. The knock on the door and the treat he’s brought should outweigh coming over without notice when he really has no business coming over at all.

His business should be back at home with his father and Fakir. But he shoves that away, actively avoiding the destiny that’s already told him thanks but no thanks, we’ve already filled the position. There’s too much that’s not his, and he’s better off leaving it behind. But now that he has a secret keeper in Erina, he can tell her in brief why he’s here and be done with it for the night. Anything else would just be treading old ground, and he can already imagine Erina rightfully dismissing such redundancy. He can take his turn to check after her for a change, or if she isn’t in such a mood they could at least find some distraction together.

What he finds when the door opens, however, is even less expected than he is.

“The boa is fetching, but I don’t know if it goes with the glasses,” he says, wiggling his fingers under his nose for emphasis.

“Hello to you, too,” Erina greets, fixing the Groucho glasses so the fake nose sits better over her real one and adjusting the boa sitting over her surprisingly adorable ant print pajamas. “I’m afraid I’m in the middle of a session, but we should be able to fit you in ri- are those chocolate covered ants?!”

“Well, yes, actually,” Autor answers just as she takes hold of the bag and his hand.

She whips the glasses off and goes, “I’m giving you extra kisses for that,” punctuating it with a quick peck on the lips.

“Erina, if you’re gonna spend your whole turn at the door, give someone else the glasses!” a voice Autor can’t entirely place calls from inside.

Erina turns back to call in return, “I’m still taking my turn! Autor’s come over, so he can be next.”

Before Autor can ask exactly what he’s going to be next in and why it requires wearing Groucho glasses, another voice he recognizes as Blanchefleur cuts in with, “That’s fine, but he can’t stay all night, Erinachen.”

Autor takes in everything going on piece by piece as Erina escorts him in, though it’s still not coming together. Realization bides its time, sitting in wait with the girls gathered around the sofa in the living room. Pique and Lilie face each other on the floor, toying around with some makeup and glass jewelry but otherwise clad in pajamas just like Erina. Duck lies on the sofa itself flipping through a purple paperback book, but she sits up with a smile when she spots Autor.

“Hi, Autor!” Duck cheerily greets. “Is Erina gonna tell you what your dreams mean, too?”

Before he can answer, Erina puts the Groucho glasses back on and says, “You can interpret Autor’s dreams when I’m done with you, Duck. Then anyone who wants to go again can be next.”

“Me!” Pique calls dibs. “I need something besides Lilie telling me all my dreams are omens of death.”

“It’s not so bad!” Lilie insists. “Watching you struggle helplessly against your dark fate is so encouraging!”

Erina points to Lilie with her free hand and asks the other girls, “Is she always like this?”

“Even worse,” Pique and Duck answer.

“Liars!” Lilie quickly rebuts.

Erina shrugs and finally takes the chocolate covered ants out of Autor’s hand, freeing him from her grasp so he can take a seat. “Anyway, I’m sorry about our interruption, Duck,” she says, making herself at home on a nearby stool and taking the purple book out of Duck’s hands. “So, where were we?”

“Did I tell you about the part when Fakir said he was gonna write a book about everything that happened and asked me to go to the book store with him?” Duck asks, reclining on the sofa once more. “But when we got there, there was a puppet sitting behind the desk. And Mr. Felidae was there, but he was a giant cat again, and he showed me a bunch of pictures of his kids while Fakir went to talk to the puppet.”

“Well, I don’t even need the book for this one,” Erina says, passing the dream dictionary over to Autor. “Clearly, this dream is about you considering a future with Fakir.”

“What?! Let me see that,” Duck goes, sitting up again and reaching for the dream dictionary.

But Autor pulls the book away, already burying his nose in it. “I can give you a second opinion,” he offers, catching on and jumping into the game. “But frankly, I think my colleague is right in this matter.”

Erina plucks the book out of his hands and says, “Ah-ah-ah, if you’re going to be giving a professional opinion, you have to look the part.” She takes off the Groucho glasses and holds them up to slide on his nose only to realize they won’t fit over his regular glasses. “Oh... We’ll have to do something about this.”

“Wait, what do we have to do?” Autor asks, taking the book back only for Duck to snatch it. “I look professional enough, thank you.”

“Lilie, can you take over Duck’s session while I help Autor look the part?” Erina asks, passing her the Groucho glasses.

But before Lilie could take them, Pique snatches them first and goes, “Don’t worry, Duck, I’ll save you. Especially since I think we need to talk about you having a future with Fakir.”

“Ooo, this is even better than I anticipated!” Lilie gushes, following close behind Pique for what she hopes to be a battle.

Autor lets Erina lead him away and sit him down where Pique and Lilie were before. He opens his mouth to ask what exactly she’s going to do, but then she picks up an eyebrow pencil.

Never mind, he’s going to ask anyway.

“Okay, exactly what are you going to do to me?”

“Well, if you can’t wear the mustache, we’ll have to give you your own,” she answers, playfully wiggling the pencil. “Besides, I’m kind of curious to see what you’d look like with one. So what do you say?”

Autor considers this before shrugging and going, “Do you take requests?”

“Within reason.”

“Snidely Whiplash?”

Erina bows her head laughing before gently taking his chin in her hand and getting to work with the pencil.

“-and while I usually don’t like disagreeing with my colleagues, I don’t think these are an omen of actual death,” Autor tells Pique, stroking his chin in imitation of stroking the goatee Erina drew on him. “Rather, this is indicative of letting go of something you’ve been holding for too long. There are things that aren’t meant to last forever.”

“I didn’t think of it that way,” Pique admits. “That...actually sounds like good advice.”

Autor shrugs nonchalantly and pretends to fiddle with his mustache. “Yes, well, I do that.” He checks his watch and adds, “Oh, look at the time. I’m afraid your hour’s up. Will you be paying in cash today?”

Pique sits up and gives Autor a handful of Monopoly money. “Same time next week?”

“My secretary can pencil you in,” he replies, licking his thumb and counting through the play currency. Satisfied, he folds the bills and puts them in his shirt’s breast pocket.

Pique swings her legs over the side of the sofa, frowning in contemplation. “Wait, were we supposed to pick secretaries for our turns?”

Autor shrugs. “I’m just going with what sounds like it fits.”

The two take a moment to look at the other three to see if anyone’s available for such a role. As it is, Erina and Duck managed to keep Lilie occupied by convincing her to help put Duck’s incredibly long hair in a set of curlers.

“Hey, I think we’re done with the dream doctor game,” Duck comments, tilting her head back a little to look at Erina and Lilie.

Erina mumbles a something of acceptance through the bobby pins held in her lips. She then eyes Autor and tips her head forward in indication. Autor follows her look but doesn’t even say a word, merely nods and goes to the kitchen.

As soon as he’s out of the room, Pique asks, “How did you do that?”

Erina frowns for a moment before shrugging it off, unsure how to actually explain something she didn’t even think about until Pique asked.

Autor returns moments later, laughter in his wake, and reports, “Your father says dinner’s ready and that the mustache isn’t doing me any favors.”

Erina takes the rest of the bobby pins out of her mouth, shakes her head, and says, “He doesn’t know what he’s talking about, liebling. You look very dashing.”

Again, he doesn’t say anything, but he heads back to help set up dinner with a small, content smile he didn’t have before.

Autor yawns against the back of his hand, the air of drowsiness that’s fogged the room taking its toll on him. Duck, Pique, and Lilie have all nodded off in a heap on the sofa, leaving him and Erina the only ones in the party still awake to watch what’s left of The Wizard of Oz while cozily sharing the matching loveseat. He lost track of when Erina actually curled up against him or when he reciprocated by putting his arm around her, though it must have been some time after Erina loosely braided her hair for the night. Not that the braid’s stopped him from playing with her hair, his fingers idly flicking through the tuft at the very end. Erina catches his yawn, but she tries to hide it.

“I should probably go,” Autor whispers, but not without some reluctance.

Erina quietly hums before whispering back, “Let’s wait until my parents say something. Besides, we really should finish the movie.”

“It would be a shame not to finish it,” he says.

She wraps her arms around his middle and yawns again. “Thanks for crashing my sleepover. You should do that more often.”

He manages to contain his laugh before saying, “I didn’t mean to. Father’s talking to Fakir at home, and it just felt...”

“Oh,” Erina sighs in understanding. “And you needed someone to talk to?”

“No, or at least not about that. I came over thinking I’d rather listen to you talk than go over the same stuff we’ve discussed before.”

“We can still do that if you want,” she says. “Did I tell you I started looking at ballet companies I’m thinking about joining once I finish school?”

“Is it already time to start that? Or are you starting early?”

She shrugs, her shoulders still under his arm, and goes, “A little early, I guess. But that doesn’t hurt. Time to recover if I make a wrong choice.”

“Good thinking,” he agrees, toying with the end of her braid once again. “I guess I don’t know what I’m going to do. Keep playing the piano for now, probably.”

“It’s not a bad idea. Will you help me practice for my auditions?”

“Of course.” And then, because he can’t help but wonder, “Any particular reason you braided your hair, by the way?”

Erina pulls her braid out of his grasp and says, “I always braid my hair for bed. It’s so long that it gets in my face if I don’t.”

Autor considers this, his nose itchily twitching at the thought, and nods in acceptance. Once that’s passed, he quietly says, “I like girls who braid their hair for bed.”

Erina turns her head a bit to side-eye him from her spot snuggled against his chest. “What?”

He flushes and a nervous stammer invites itself in while he gets out,“R-remember when you asked me if I like girls with long hair or short hair? I didn’t have an answer. So th-that’s my answer now.”

“Oh,” she answers, having forgotten about it until Autor brought it up again and her own cheeks growing warm.

“So, what companies were you thinking about?” Autor asks, attempting to jump back on track. “Local work? Or will you be touring?”

“I mean, I guess I could try one type then the other,” Erina says. “Stay with what I like.”

Autor considers this with a small nod. “Keep in touch if you tour. And come back here sometimes.”

“Wouldn’t you rather I stay?” she asks.

“Of course, but I know performers have to tour sometimes,” he says. “I did grow up with Father going on tour. Besides, if I don’t even know what I want to do, I don’t know if I’ll stay in Goldkrone myself.”

“Good point,” Erina agrees, squeezing him just a little bit tighter. “I guess we’ll just have to see how things work out.”

He hums in agreement, tucking a bit of hair behind her ear. It’s a very soft, peaceful moment, threatening him with sleep. When did he become so susceptible, so weak when he used to go multiple nights without sleep willingly? The difference occurs to him as he thinks of the last time he did stay up all night and how Erina had been present. This time, they aren’t working. No need to sharpen the mind for what’s to come ahead, nothing to do but enjoy this quiet envelope of existence where, for all points that matter, he and Erina are the only people in the room, in Goldkrone, in the world of night.

At least until Heinrich taps him on the shoulder and clears his throat.

Erina untangles herself from Autor’s embrace and goes, “I’ll walk Autor to the door, Father.”

“Okay, but don’t be too long,” he agrees as the two get up from the loveseat.

Respectful good nights said to Heinrich and Blanchefleur, Erina steps outside with Autor and closes the door behind them. That done, she drapes her arms on his shoulders and pulls him in for another hug.

Autor returns the hug without a thought, and suddenly they’re alone again.

“Come by tomorrow when the girls have gone home?” she asks. “I’ll call you.”

“Sure,” he agrees.

He traces his fingers along her jaw, smiling a little at how it seems to match Erina closing her eyes. He leans in, and the kiss is like breathing. Not the urgent gasp for air after breaking the surface of the water but the effortless gentle breath that comes just as softly as it goes.

“Good night, Erina,” he murmurs, and somehow the words don’t break a thing.

Erina smiles at him like the moon through the clouds. “Good night, Autor,” she says, tracing his cheek for a moment before adding, “And don’t forget to wash up.”

Logos and Fakir are at the door just as Autor shows up. Of the three, it’s clear who had the best night. Fakir takes one look at Autor and decides not for the first time that keeping his mouth shut is the better option. A brief nod and the other boy is on his way home.

Logos waves his hand in front of his face for a moment and asks, “Where did you get the smudged mustache? And the Monopoly money?”

“I still have that?” Autor asks in return, patting down the pocket and finding it’s still stuffed full of funny money. “I’ll bring that back to Erina’s tomorrow.”

“Usually when Monopoly gets out of hand, it goes a bit differently,” Logos says. “But at least your relationship with Erinachen doesn’t seem to be in tatters.”

“Quite the contrary: she called me liebling,” he replies, counting the Monopoly money once more for fun. “And she said I look dashing.”

“Okay, now I know you didn’t play Monopoly, not if she meant that,” Logos comments as he ushers Autor inside.

Autor shrugs and goes, “All I did was crash her slumber party.”

Logos makes an, “Ohhhhh,” of understanding as the two head in for the night.

[an-aura-about-you]

Yes and No

seasaltmemories replied to your post “Hey, anyone wanna give me some prompts to write some fanfiction?”

your otp falls in love, only they don't share a common language

I promise, in spite of whatever my brain was trying to do, this is not going to be a songfic using Jason Derulo’s Talk Dirty to Me. That song’s just really catchy.

Of all the touring groups to come to the theater, the Russian ballet is the worst.

Perhaps Autor is being too harsh with such an assessment. But he reasons that spending a lifetime wanting to see the Russian ballet only to meet them in person and get shot down by Rue, the most gorgeous prima donna in the company’s history, is enough to give him the benefit of the doubt on the matter. The only thing keeping him from slinking out is his obligation to his work. So he sits at his piano bench and occupies himself with his sheet music, unaware of the ballerina approaching Rue with challenge in her every step.

Not that whatever they might be saying matters. Autor can’t speak a word of Russian.

“Hey,” Erina calls, tapping Rue on the shoulder. “You didn’t have to be so cold to that pianist.”

Rue turns to Erina, a bit bemused. “You’re one to talk.”

“Maybe I am,” she says. “You’ve rejected me, too, after all.”

“I don’t think there was much else I could do,” Rue admits with a slight shrug. “Unless you can speak German? I can’t.”

Erina lays a finger alongside her jaw in contemplation even as Rue takes her leave. It is, unfortunately, a good point that she can’t counter. She spares the pianist a small, empathetic glance before joining the others to discuss practice plans with Fakir.

“That pianist Rue rejected is watching us,” Fakir points out mid-lift to Erina.

Erina rolls her eyes but doesn’t say a word, focusing on not focusing. It’s much easier correctly stretching and twisting her body for their pas de deux by thinking about anything else, letting herself fall into that groove where her body works on its own. Unfortunately, it’s still enough thought to pull her out of it, and she’s too conscious while trying to perform.

“The light’s reflecting from his glasses,” Erina says.

“Something that’s never bothered you the millions of times we’ve performed before,” Fakir points out. “Go talk to him if it’s bothering you.”

She shrugs and goes, “I can’t speak German.”

“I can.”

Erina clasps her hands together and asks, “Can you please tell him we’re still working on it and not ready for an audience yet?”

Fakir shrugs and heads over to their unwanted spectator.

“Sorry,” Fakir calls to Autor, walking up the aisle to his row. “Could you please leave? We’re still working on our choreography and Erina’s not comfortable with someone watching yet.”

“Oh!”

Autor gets to his feet, more astonished that anyone in the company could speak German than he is hurt at being asked to leave. He fixes his glasses and gathers his things.

“I’m sorry about that,” he apologizes. “I had just heard she spoke on my behalf and wanted to thank her for that. But I’m absolutely hopeless with Russian. I didn’t know where else to wait for her, but could you please let her know I appreciate what she did?”

Fakir’s mouth flattens into a line and he can feel his eye twitch, already seeing where this is heading. “Okay,” he agrees, “but in return I want both of you to do a favor for me.”

“What kind of favor?”

“You’ll know tomorrow,” Fakir says, heading back to the stage to bring this message to Erina.

“Merry Christmas, now leave me alone,” Fakir tells Erina and Autor, handing both of them slim, identically wrapped presents.

Curious, each of them take their respective gifts and work to unwrap them. Erina tears hers open first while Autor attempts to open his like one would an envelope. They drop the paper away from each to reveal a child-appropriate language workbook for each of them, German to Russian for Autor and Russian to German for Erina.

“The idea is nice, but did you have to pick such a juvenile method?” Autor asks, slightly opening the crayon-drawing-like cover of his version.

“This is great!” Erina complains. “I’ll be able to make such scintillating conversation as, ‘The dress is red!’“

Fakir shrugs and tells each of them, “You have to start somewhere. I’m not getting paid to play interpreter.”

“Or to grade your work,” Fakir tells them the next day, pointing out the answer keys in the back when each of them present the first assignments in their workbooks to him.

Erina sits just offstage, half-watching as Rue dances to Autor’s playing. The workbook sits open in her lap, but it feels like beating her head against a wall of words trying to force them into her brain. She idly scribbles in the corner, eyes drawn to the piano. The burn of not getting the most famous solo in the show flares up again, the simple piano rendition of the song exceedingly elegant. And he has to play it for the ballerina who rejected him. It hardly seems fair.

Maybe this is selfish, wanting to vent. There’s nothing wrong with Rue, not really. It was just another misunderstanding. But here there’s someone else in the same position and they can’t speak a single word together!

She frowns and thinks about that. How many words do they actually need?

She flips to the small glossary next to the answer key and scribbles down a note on her hand.

Finished for the day, Autor gets up to leave the piano only for Erina to meet him there.

“Autor?”

It’s the first time either of them have actually spoken directly to each other instead of just simultaneously complaining to Fakir. The name hits Autor in such a nice way, something beyond a mere matter of accent.

“Yes?” he answers.

“Yes?” she repeats, nodding and pointing out the gesture.

Autor frowns, bemused. What is she getting at?

At the frown, she opens her hand to show him her little guide to yes and no and repeats, “Yes?” pointing to the word there.

He feels his eyes widen as her thought process seeps in. Well, he always did like playing Twenty Questions.

“Yes,” he agrees, unable to hold back his smile.

Erina grins and points to the word below with a, “No?”

“That is no,” he confirms, pointing it out with her.

Her face lights up, happier about this possibility than she is with the workbook alone. She steps closer to the piano and places a hand there, gesturing for him to sit down again.

“Yes?” she asks.

Autor sits down on the bench and puts his hands on the keys in reflex.

“Yes!” Erina tells him.

“We should probably learn how to say please,” Autor says, but he starts playing all the same.

Erina shrugs, unaware of what he means, and goes to dance.

And once she does, Autor finds he wouldn’t have wanted to tell her no anyway.

“Erina!”

Autor’s voice carries over the rabble of the day’s final rehearsal wrapping up and hits Erina’s ear in just the right way to perk her up in spite of her exhaustion. She smiles up at him mid-cooldown stretches, already at work to take her hair down. Time for another workbook meetup.

But when Autor approaches this time, he holds a small pamphlet out to her. She takes it and looks at the picture on the front, a cozy little house with the name, “Ebine’s,” written over it. She stares for a moment and turns it to look at the back, unsure what he means until she opens it up and finds a lovely picture of a plate of food.

“Yes?” Autor asks.

Erina waves the pamphlet around a little the way one might a fan, her grin growing even fonder. Are they just going to do their workbooks over dinner instead of their usual post-work arrangement, or is this something more? Well, something more or not, dinner with a friend is never bad, especially when you’re hungry.

“Yes,” Erina agrees before miming one moment and pointing out the dressing rooms.

Autor holds a hand out in offering, giving her leave to change.

The Christmas market lights up the cold, dark night and fills it with song, almost like being in a fairy tale. Autor may have insisted on dinner, but Erina insists on pulling him to the market, tugging his arm along by the crook of his elbow. Not that she had to pull very hard, helped by the nostalgic lure of the traditional spiced wine and sweets.

Dinner was Autor’s treat, but every time he attempts to pull money out of his wallet at the market, Erina places her hand on top of his and firmly goes, “No.”

“No?” he asks to make sure.

Erina holds up her purse and says, “Yes.”

Autor shrugs and tells her, “Thank you,” wondering how many other words she’s picked up and if he’s said his gratitude often enough for her to understand it.

Two cups of wine later and the familiar strains of The Nutcracker flood the market, etched into the very bones of their souls. But Erina doesn’t have to dance to Chocolate for work, so it doesn’t carry the weight the same way. She gets to her feet and circles her hands above her head, holding one out in invitation to Autor.

Now why didn’t they think of that before? Autor smiles, glad he’s paid enough attention throughout his life to understand the language of ballet, and gets to his feet.

“Yes,” he accepts, taking her hand and leading her to dance.

The curtain falls on the final night, each clap a barb in Erina’s heart. It’s always been bittersweet, but working in a touring company isn’t supposed to feel like this. It’s not even having to leave so much as it is not even getting to spend all of Christmas here. Each thump of her heart ends up resonating with the same name, Autor, Autor, Autor...

Autor isn’t quite as out of breath waiting backstage, but he can’t help but notice what he’s explaining away as a stitch in his chest. Of all the words he could learn how to say, he doesn’t want to use goodbye.

They embrace and both murmur a phrase they’ve never heard the other say before, but the meaning penetrates both of them like Cupid’s golden arrows. Erina pulls away just enough to place two fingers on her lips, eyes imploring.

Even considering the words Autor just gave her, he can feel himself burning red from the neck up at her request. He takes her hand in his, wanting to just let yes fall from his mouth but unable to at this moment. Yes just doesn’t fit here, not when there’s so much no imposing itself on them. So he does all he can do and kisses her.

Erina presses a note into Autor’s hand and says, “Write to me,” as clear and forceful as she can make herself over the commotion at the train station.

Autor smiles in spite of his watery expression and grasps both the note and her hand with a firm, “Yes.”