Disclaimer: I do not, nor will I ever, own rights to Princess Tutu.
A/N: Old post from several years ago. A younger version of myself thought this was smut (wahaha). Mild alterations. I know it's not great, but it has sentimental value.
Everything
It could very well have been eternity we spent together; I wouldn't be surprised if it were- the girl seemed to stop time on command- and sometime within that eternity I realized how perfect it was, as far as sick fairytales could ever go.
Granted that my best friend had literally had his heart shattered into pieces, and was at the time involved in what I could only describe as a sadomasochistic partnership with a crow who wore necklines which typically plunged to oblivion, I was in considerably good spirits. In such unstable conditions, you needed a balance within your own being, and for every part of me, she managed to provide a counter. She was princess to my knight, partner to my premier danseur, girl to my boy, muse to my writer, savior to my cause…
Another would-be poet might have penned that she was everything to me…
I wouldn't have condescended to forgive such a narrowness of terms.
Danger lay in such presumptuous insinuations.