Happy New Year!

Konbanwa!  Well, actually it's morning technically, but whatever!  Sorry I still haven't updated on either of my fanfics.  I'm currently experiencing a case of writers block coupled with ALL THE FEELS.  I finished Durarara!! last night and there's this huge, gaping hole in my soul...  Seriously, I don't know what to do with myself.  *sigh*  Fangirl problems, I know.  But they've announced a second season, so I will be made whole again.  Briefly.  Eventually.
Anyhow, I hope everyone had a good 2014 and an even better 2015.  To any high school seniors and their foreign counterparts who will be graduating in the spring, hang in there.  We're almost done!  To anyone who has been having a hard time lately for whatever reason, I promise things will get better eventually, but nothing will change unless you put forth the effort to make it change.  It's hard, but it's not impossible!
Well, that's all I've got for now.  I'm going to try to go to bed soon 'cause I'm tired for some reason :P  Happy new year! (^_^)


- Turtle-chan

Sharpshooter: Bard x Mey-Rin Fanfiction

Okay, so apparently I've gotten myself deep into the world of fanfiction now.  I knew it would be dangerous to start writing them and I was right.  I don't think I've really talked about my ships yet, but that's coming, don't worry.  I'm actually putting together drawings of all the ships in my armada now.  Hopefully I'll get that done soon.  I was going to post another installment of my Hetalia fanfic, but I picked up reading the Black Butler manga again yesterday and remembered a ship of mine I'd almost forgotten about and when I decided to see if anyone else ships them too, I only found one fanfiction and only two or three pieces of fan art.  Unacceptable!  So now I've created my own Bard x Mey-Rin fanfic!  For those of you who haven't watched all of season one of the anime or who haven't read the circus arc of the manga, I'd recommend you don't read this yet.  I used a very similar scene from the manga for one part and it reveals things about the Phantomhive servants that don't get revealed until late in the anime and about a third of the way through the manga.  You have been warned.  For those of you who will continue, enjoy~!  As usual, it's unedited because I literally just finished writing it, so pardon me if I have any really dumb grammar mistakes.  Catch ya later!


- Turtle-chan

“Hey.  Sebastian.  What’s on today’s agenda?” Bard asks, mussing his hair and looking around with bleary eyes as he walks into the foyer and comes to a stop next to Mey-Rin and Finny.

                “I was preparing to inform you all.  Unfortunately, you did not deem it necessary to arrive on time, as usual,” Sebastian replies with a frustrated sigh.

                Bard straightens up and tries to put on a serious face and the other two servants look on anxiously.  They all know that it does not take much for Sebastian’s annoyance to erupt into a lecture.  Tanaka looks on in amusement from his position on the floor, drinking his tea.  “Hohoho,” he chuckles, taking another sip.

                “Now, the young master has a guest today: Lady Elizabeth.  We all must pitch in to ensure that the young mistress is perfectly comfortable throughout her stay.  Mey-Rin, your task is to clean the manor from top to bottom.  I want no speck of dust to go unnoticed.  Finny, you are to care for the garden and I beg of you, do not destroy anything.  Plants are delicate, remember?  As for you, Bard.  You are to prepare tonight’s supper.  Do not forget that explosives and flamethrowers do not qualify as cooking utensils,” Sebastian says, going through each person’s jobs.  “Mr. Tanaka, carry on as usual.  That will be all.”

                “Alright!  Let’s try our best!” Finny exclaims, pumping a fist in the air.

                “We’ll help Mr. Sebastian out this time, we will!” Mey-Rin adds enthusiastically.

                “Move out!” Bard concludes, slipping a cigarette between his teeth.

                The three all break off to go do their respective jobs and Tanaka continues drinking his tea.  “Hohoho!”

~~~

                Bard is in the kitchen, doing all of the preparation work to cook.  He meticulously chops the vegetables into even sized pieces and scoops them up off of the cutting board to throw them into the pan where some hot oil awaits them.  They make a satisfying sizzling sound as they hit the hot metal and Bard grins.

                “Ya know, I bet this would cook faster if I used a stick of dynamite…  But no.  Sebastian said no explosives, and I’m gonna show him I can cook without usin’ explosives,” he says to himself, replacing the dynamite.

                Bard stands there for a few moments, watching the vegetables cook before exclaiming,” Ahh! Why does it take so darn long?”

                “U-um, everything is alright, yes?” a quiet voice says from the door.

                Bard turns around and sees Mey-Rin standing in the doorway, looking over at him shyly.  “Oh, Mey-Rin.  Yeah, it’s fine.  I’m just not a patient man,” he responds with a jaunty grin.

                “We know, yes we do,” Mey-Rin giggles.  “Now, I must set the table, yes.”

                Bard stirs the vegetables absently while watching Mey-Rin pull the china down from the cabinet.  He knows she can’t see very well with her glasses on and she seems to be having trouble with all of the plates.  “Hey, need a hand?” he asks her casually.

                She starts and looks down at the plates in her arms.  “I’m fine, yes,” she responds, her cheeks turning pink.  Bard watches her indecisively as she starts off down the hall.  Should I help her or not?

                He decides to go help her.  Abandoning his vegetables, Bard starts off down the hall just in time to hear Mey-Rin let out a shrill yelp.  He runs into the closest room to him and makes it just in time to catch Mey-Rin.  He looks up and sees Sebastian with all of the plates balanced in one hand.

                “You alright?” Bard asks Mey-Rin, looking down at her.

                She looks up at him and blushes, turning her face away.  “I’m alright, yes I am,” she tells him quietly.

                “Here, let me help ya up,” Bard says, offering her a hand.  She takes it and he pulls her to her feet.

                “I thought I warned you to be more careful, Mey-Rin,” Sebastian sighs, frowning slightly as he goes to set the plates out on the table, which he does with remarkable speed.

                “I-I’m sorry, Mr. Sebastian,” Mey-Rin says sadly.

                “Just don’t break anything,” Sebastian responds, leaving the room.  “And Bard, don’t burn anything. “

                “Yikes!  I forgot about the vegetables!” Bard exclaims, his eyes widening.  “Are you alright on your own?”

                Mey-Rin nods.  “I’m sorry for interrupting you, yes I am,” she tells him, shooing him out the door.

                Bard sprints back into the kitchen to find his vegetables smoking lightly.  He quickly stirs them and assesses the damage.  “Hmm…  I think they’re still edible,” he says, surveying the blackened chunks in the pan.  He scoops some up and takes a bite, promptly spitting it out into the trash.  “Or not.  Looks like I’ll have to start over.”

                Mey-Rin walks back into the kitchen to retrieve the silverware as Bard starts to cut the fresh vegetables.  She can’t help but watch him work, marveling at how quickly his hands move.  I never knew he could do that…  They seem to fly and within moments what used to be a whole vegetable is nothing more than a pile of perfect little cubes.  He picks up the cutting board and swipes everything into a clean pan with a quick flick of the wrist.  When he looks up, Mey-Rin is still watching him and she blushes and looks away, focusing on pulling out the silverware.

                So Bard watches her.  She’s always been so clumsy, but he can’t figure out why.  He knows she can fight.  He’s seen the result of that.  Her accuracy is always deadly, which is impressive from a little lady.  That’s why he can’t fathom the reason for her clumsiness outside of battle.  The best idea he can come up with is those glasses of hers making it hard to see.

                Mey-Rin catches him staring as she makes her way out of the room and she looks at him curiously.  It’s Bard’s turn to blush and look away, stirring his vegetables attentively.  Mey-Rin leaves the room and continues with her work and Bard tries to make himself focus on the task at hand.

                And that’s when he hears the signal.  Three quick rings on the servant’s bell and then one long one.  There’s trouble at the manor.  Bard turns the stovetop off and sets his spoon down before charging down the hall and up the stairs into the foyer where Tanaka is waiting.  Mey-Rin and Finny join him shortly afterward with grim looks on their faces.

                “We have been informed that there are intruders on the grounds.  Mistress Elizabeth is scheduled to be here any time now, so it is your job to protect her as well as the young master.  Sebastian and I will take care of things with the young master and mistress once they are inside the house, so everything else is up to you.  We’re counting on you,” Tanaka says seriously, looking each of the servants in the eyes by turn.

                “Yes sir,” they all respond and Bard gives a crisp salute.

                “You know what to do,” Bard tells the other two gruffly, turning back toward the kitchen.

                Finny nods and goes back outside and Mey-Rin runs up the stairs to the roof, taking her glasses off as she goes.  Bard makes a dash for the storage room and carries the supplies he needs back with him into the heart of the kitchen.  He sets everything out carefully, lights a cigarette, and stands near the speaking horn that allows people within the house to communicate.  He selects the horn that should lead to Finny’s station.  “Ready?” he shouts into the horn.

                “Ready,” Finny responds.

                He moves to the horn that should contact Mey-Rin.  “Ready?” he asks.

                “Yes,” she responds.  Her voice sounds serious and tough.  It makes Bard’s heart skip a beat.  He ignores it, though, and moves to Tanaka’s horn.  “All operatives are in their places.  We’re ready to party,” he says with a grin.

                “Keep in touch,” Tanaka replies.  “And remember, we will have no mercy.”

                “Roger that.  Over and out,” Bard says.  He cracks his knuckles and stretches his arms out in anticipation.  Let’s do this.

                Up on the roof, Mey-Rin sees the men coming first.  She leans over and speaks into the trumpet without taking her eyes, or her shotguns, off of the men.  “I count nine of them.  Male.  Looks like they have weapons.”

                “Good.  There should be just enough for everyone to have a little fun then,” Bard chuckles back.

                Mey-Rin laughs a little.  “Right,” she says.  “I’ll go first.  Over and out.”

                The men are almost in range now.  She keeps watching them as they run, futilely trying to duck behind greenery and such.  In just a few steps she’ll be able to take them out.  As soon as they enter her range, she starts to shoot, dual wielding shotguns as though they were pistols.  She narrows her eyes against the smoke and spray of bullet casings flying around her, seeing through to her targets.

                She already has two down and one wounded when Finny rushes out at them.  A large stone statue comes flying out of nowhere and the wounded man is crushed beneath it.  Three down, six to go.  Finny takes up a large bundle of split wood and hurls it at another man, but he misses.  Finny shrugs and tries again with a different bundle, hefting the huge stack over his head as though it weighed no more than a feather.  Mey-Rin continues shooting, taking out one more in the process, but two of the men get into the house.

                “Two heading your way, Bard,” she shouts into the speaking trumpet.

                “Roger that,” he responds.

                Finny’s next throw hits its mark and another man is down.  Only four more and two are outside.  Mey-Rin discards two more guns and replaces them from the hundreds she has set up around her.  She keeps firing at one of the running men, taking him out at the knees and then putting a bullet through his head and chest, effectively killing him.  Finny takes out the last one and they both run indoors.  Mey-Rin slings two extra guns across her back, just in case.  As she runs, she notices a carriage pulling up to the front of the manor and Sebastian going outside to greet it.

                Downstairs, Bard is ready and waiting, excited to get in on the action.  He has a great plan and he hopes he can use it.  As if on cue, he hears footsteps approaching the door and soon two men run in, pointing silly little pistols at him.

                “Welcome to my kitchen,” he grins.  “I’m the chef and everyone knows the chef is the one in charge in here.”

                The two men exchange a look with each other and start to approach him.  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he warns.  “You never know what secrets I might have hidden in here and the chef knows all the kitchen’s secrets!”  With that, he whips out a huge machine gun and starts to laugh.  The intruders go pale and they look shocked, too scared to even scream.  “How do you like my newest baby?  She’s a beauty, isn’t she?  The latest invention from America, actually, and I’ve been dying to try her out.”

                He opens fire on the men and they run, trying to dodge or get away.  He sprays the whole room with fire, laughing heartily the whole time.  After dousing the room three or four times, he stops shooting and looks around.  The two men are on the floor, one on top of the other.  The one on top is bloody and not moving and the one on bottom looks horrified.

                “Brother?” he says in a high pitched voice.  “No!  You killed him!”

                When he looks up, Bard realizes that it’s not a “he” at all, but a woman wearing men’s clothing.  A very angry woman, at that.  “Sorry.  All’s fair in love and war, ya know,” is all Bard has to say, giving her a grin.  Her face turns bright red and she fumbles for the trigger on her pistol, but it is knocked out of her hand by a bullet. 

Bard looks up to see Finny and Mey-Rin standing in the doorway, Mey-Rin’s gun still smoking.  He nods at them and turns back to the woman.  “Well, I wish we could have met under better circumstances, but you see, we servants are very grateful to our obnoxious little master and we don’t take kindly to people that want to hurt him.  I’m sure you understand, right?” he says with mock sympathy as he pulls a flamethrower out from beneath a couple of bags of flour.  “See ya in Hell,” he says as he pulls the trigger, releasing a huge tongue of flame.  The woman screams shrilly for a few moments as she is burned alive, but soon the screams stop and there is nothing left but a charred corpse.  Bard releases the trigger and blows the smoke from the end of the barrel before turning back to face Mey-Rin and Finny.

Finny looks happy and Mey-Rin is still in her serious mode, but she begins to soften again when she sees that the threat is neutralized.  “Everyone okay?” Bard asks them both.  They both nod and he grins.  “Well, we did it again!”

“Yes we did!” Mey-Rin agrees, slipping her glasses back on.

“Yay!  Everyone’s safe again!” Finny exclaims.

“Good job, guys.  Now let’s clean this mess up,” Bard says, grinning and ruffling Finny’s hair.

“Right!” they both exclaim.  As they turn to go, Sebastian appears in the doorway and they skid to a stop.

“Good work.  You have served your young master well, however you have left an unsightly mess on the lawn and Lady Elizabeth desires to take a stroll.  I suggest you hurry and clean things up.  Mr. Tanaka and I shall divert her for as long as we can,” he tells the three servants, turning on his heel and leaving as quickly as he came.

They all look at each other and nod, taking off at a run up the stairs.  Bard grabs some of his explosives and his flamethrower on the way out and Finny slings the two bodies from the kitchen over his shoulders.  Once outside, they split off and start dragging the bodies into the woods.  Finny carries four at a time, the two over his shoulders and one in each hand.  Bard carries three, with one over his shoulder and one in each hand.  Mey-Rin takes one man in each hand and drags them.  Finny throws his men into a hole that they had dug a while previously for situations like this and Bard follows with his three.  Finny runs back into the woods to check for any carnage they missed and Bard turns back to Mey-Rin.

“Here, let me help,” he says, taking one of the bodies from her hand.

“O-oh.  Thank you, yes,” she stammers, throwing the body she is left carrying into the hole.

Bard does the same and then slips his goggles on as he pulls out his flamethrower and dynamite.  He throws a couple of bundles into the hole and then pulls out a cigarette and holds it between his teeth.  “Get back and close your eyes,” he tells Mey-Rin who moves to stand behind him.  Then, he pulls the trigger on the flamethrower and lights his cigarette with it before directing it into the hole.  “Fire in the hole!” he exclaims, laughing.  They both cover their ears.

There is a loud explosion, a wave of flame, and then nothing but smoke.  Bard leans over and looks into the hole, seeing nothing but charcoal and smoke.  “Mission accomplished,” he says, turning to Mey-Rin and giving her a thumbs up and a wink after taking his goggles off.

She looks at him and starts to giggle, hiding her mouth behind her hands.  “What?  What’s so funny?” Bard asks her, confused.

She shakes her head and lifts the glasses from her eyes.  Her brown eyes are full of mirth.  “Your hair,” she manages to get out before lapsing into another fit of giggles.

Bard reaches up and pats his head, sighing.  Every time.  The explosion had given him a bad afro again.  He does his best to smooth it back down and takes a drag on his cigarette.  Mey-Rin has put her glasses back on and is looking away from him, her hands behind her back and her toe tracing patterns in the dirt.  She managed to keep her uniform clean by standing behind him, which is good.  Bard doesn’t want her getting yelled at by Sebastian again.  It’s not her fault that none of them have any real skill in their jobs.  It’s just a cover for their being bodyguards anyway.  He takes another drag and notices a smear of soot on Mey-Rin’s cheek.  Without thinking about it, he reaches out and brushes it away with his thumb.

Mey-Rin looks up at him and blushes, her eyes wide behind her glasses.  Bard looks surprised himself and pulls back quickly.  “Uh, sorry.  There was some dirt.  Didn’t want ya gettin’ in trouble for it,” Bard says, rubbing the back of his neck and looking away from her.

“O-oh.  Thank you, yes,” she says shyly.  “We should go back to the manor, yes we should.”

Bard releases a stream of smoke from his mouth and discards the butt of his cigarette, stamping it out on the ground.  “Yeah,” he says.  “Can’t let Finny do all the work.”

Mey-Rin nods and starts walking through the forest.  Bard follows her and watches as she tries to pick her way around all of the fallen limbs and holes.  She should just take her glasses off.

As if on cue, Mey-Rin trips in a hole and starts to fall.  Bard dashes forward and catches her by the waist with one arm before she hits the ground.  “Are you alright?” he asks her worriedly.

“Ah.  Y-yes, I’m fine,” she says.  “But I dropped my glasses.”

Bard sees them on the ground in front of her and he picks them up with his free hand.  He straightens up, pulling Mey-Rin with him and hands the glasses to her.  She puts them on and he notices that her cheeks are flushed.  Then he realizes that he’s still holding onto her.  He moves to let her go, but she puts a small hand over his and her blush deepens.  Somewhat surprised but by no means unhappy, Bard gently draws her nearer to him.  She leans into him and rests her head against his chest and he wraps his other arm around her, holding her close.

They stand like that for a little while, just enjoying the closeness and warmth, before Bard speaks up.  “Mey-Rin?” he says softly.

“Hmm?” she replies.

“U-um.  Well, ya see, I know you have a thing for Sebastian and all, and I get that, but um.  Well, what I’m tryin’ to say is, is there any way you could give me a chance?  I may not be as handsome or as talented as Sebastian, and I know I ain’t as polished, but I care about ya and that’s gotta count for somethin’,” he says, embarrassed at himself and almost afraid of how she’ll respond.

She’s quiet for a moment and he feels her body shake as she laughs.  “Well, I certainly respect Mr. Sebastian and I think he’s an amazing butler.  I aspire to be able to do my work as well as he does his someday.  But the one I ‘have a thing for,’ as you put it, is you, Bard,” she says, lifting her head to look up at him.

Bard looks down at her and realizes she has taken her glasses off and is smiling up at him with rosy cheeks.  He can’t believe he heard her correctly.  That can’t be right.  “A-are ya sure?” he asks her.

She giggles a little and nods.  “Why do you seem so surprised?” she asks him flirtatiously.

“W-well it’s just that you’re always goin’ on ‘bout how great Sebastian is an’ I know I can’t compete with a guy like that.  He’s got the looks and the skill and the charm that I don’t have and never will.  It just doesn’t make sense,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck again.

“Hm.  I guess you’re right, but you’re not as bad as you think you are,” she tells him with a smile.  “You have great instincts, you’re a good leader, you always make us laugh even if you don’t mean to, you’re… creative, you actually do show some talent for cooking if you weren’t so impatient, you’re kind, and then there’s always your rugged good looks.”

Now Bard is blushing and he looks away from Mey-Rin.  “I don’t know about all that,” he says quietly.

Mey-Rin giggles and rests her head against Bard’s chest again with a smile.  Bard gazes down at her in wonder.  Sure, he has thought about something like this happening, but he never imagined it actually would.  Standing there, feeling how soft and delicate she is in his arms, all he wants to do is to protect her so that she can always smile like this.  Bard leans down and plants a soft kiss on the top of Mey-Rin’s head.  She looks up at him with flushed cheeks and her lips slightly parted.  She reaches up and brushes her fingers against the stubble on his chin and cheek and he leans into her touch, closing his eyes.  As she pulls her hand back, her fingers brush against Bard’s lips and he opens his eyes.

“Mey-Rin,” he murmurs, leaning down to her height.

She stands on her toes, bringing her face to his and their lips meet softly.  Bard pulls back a little, trying to judge her reaction, but she wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him back down toward her.  They kiss again, a little deeper but still nothing more than the soft, sweet kiss of new lovers.  When they break apart, Bard kisses her on the forehead and she smiles.  He rubs his thumbs gently against her upper arms, giving them a quick squeeze before letting go.

“We should go,” he says quietly, looking down at Mey-Rin as she slips her glasses back over her eyes.

“If we don’t, they might worry, yes,” she says cheerfully.

“Here,” Bard says, offering her his arm.  She takes it and they set off through the forest for the manor, both happy and anticipating what is to come.

Goth vs Emo: What's the Difference?

Konichiwa!  Turtle-chan is here today to clear up a common misconception: goth and emo are not the same thing! I have done some extensive research on this topic, so I feel like I can speak with some authority on it.  Hopefully this will be useful in enlightening more people to the differences between goth and emo.  Also, in case you haven't realized it yet, all of the pictures I use are the results of Google searches.  I don't own them.  Well, except for my own drawings, but I haven't used any of those lately.  And spoiler alert: I'm talking about Dracula at the end, so if you don't want anything spoiled for you, just stop reading when I start talking about vampires.
First of all, goth is a subculture whereas emo is a fashion statement.  I know of several self-proclaimed emos that would argue this with me, but it's the truth.  Goths are generally older teens and adults, whereas emos are usually just teens.  There are many types of goth, but emo is a fairly generic label for a type of fashion that has some variations off of a basic form, but not many.  For example, this lovely lady is goth:

And so is this one:

And this guy:

And these kids are emo:

I like his Edgar Allan Poe necklace, by the way! (^_^)

Also, in case you want to know, if you Google "emo girls," the only things that come up are pictures of scene girls.  Yes, there is a difference and most "emo" girls I've seen are actually scene, pardon my wordplay.

A lot of the "emos" I know are of the mind that emos can't wear any color than black.  This is incorrect.  Emos generally pair some color with their black, usually pink or red.  Black and red is also a common color pairing for some goths.  There is a popular belief that goths will only wear black, use black makeup with white foundation, and sit around whining and writing bad poetry all the time.  This is an incorrect assumption.  There is a faction of the goth subculture that does do that, and they are generally referred to as "mopey goths."  There are many, many categories of goth, however, and it would be too difficult to cover all of them, so I'll just hit the three I'm most familiar with and you can look at this website for a quick rundown of the rest if you're still curious: http://www.blackwaterfall.com/viewall.php

1. Traditional Goth: Also referred to as trad goth, these are the goths from the 1980s movement and they are also the generation that coined the term "goth."  These are the ones that you'll see wearing chains, leather, ripped fishnets, and big hair.  They're commonly known for haunting goth clubs and smoking clove cigarettes.  Their music includes bands such as Bauhaus, Siouxiee and the Banshees, The Birthday Party, The Sisters of Mercy, and pretty much any band that was played in the iconic Batcave Club.

2. Romantic Goth: This is for all of my fellow literature lovers!  Trad goths are all about the '80s music scene, but the romantigoths take it really old school and go for the books and maybe even subsequent movies.  Authors that would appeal to a romantigoth would be ones such as Edgar Allan Poe (didn't see that coming, did ya?!), Bram Stoker, and Nathaniel Hawthorne, so basically any author under the "gothic" category of literature which is, by the way, a subgenre of the romantic category.  Many romantigoths tend to wear period dress and a lot of velvet and lace.  Their musical tastes are fairly widespread, but they tend to center around more ethereal sounds, such as Love Spirals Downwards, All About Eve, and Faith and the Muse, but trad goth bands work too, as well as classical, such as Bach or Wagner.  Romantigoths are the ones you'll find wandering around graveyards examining the tombstones and dead flowers, probably writing poetry or stories.  They're more about contemplation of life than horror.

3. Vampire Goth: Okay, this group can get kind of weird for the average "normal" person, so just bear with me.  These are the goths that are obsessed with all things vampire.  They can range from your vampire enthusiast to people who actually believe they are vampires.  They are generally pale or wear makeup that makes them appear to be so, several will wear fake fangs and/or contact lenses, and many will dress in period clothing and capes.  Some will even wear dark-lensed sunglasses when they go out during the day and maybe even join "vampire societies."  They also tend to have a penchant for red wine.  Some vampire-friendly bands would include Nosferatu, Inkubus Sukkubus, and Theatres des Vampires, but most goth bands have made at least one vampire-themed song because of the overwhelming popularity of the beasts within the subculture.

Now, as for myself, I believe I would fall under the category of a romantic goth or a mild vampire goth.  I do not dress "goth" but I do wear a lot of black and I love black lace.  From a very young age I have found myself attracted to the darkness, which has concerned my family for years.  I am just like any "normal" person.  I talk to people, I laugh, I listen to music.  The only real difference is how I view the world.  For me, death is something to be celebrated.  One, because death is the gateway to the afterlife, which is a good thing, but also death should become a celebration of the person's life.  It's selfish to cry and mourn over someone who is in a better place.  You shouldn't ruin someone's happiness to save your own.  I also love the symbolism of cemeteries: life mingling with death.  You can't get more poetic than that!

Not to mention, I love vampires.  I've read Dracula at least three times now and it only gets better.  I also try reading almost every vampire novel or manga I can get my hands on, although they usually end up being really bad, preteen romances that I have to put away before I finish.  I'm fascinated by the concept of vampires, really.  They're terrifying.  For one, Dracula is a social commentary and the book is largely about sex.  There, I said it!  But think: Dracula is an old guy, but he preys on young women (Lucy and Mina).  Lucy is young, but she preys on children.  Also, vampires bite the neck: a very sexual act.  They do it at night and generally in a bedroom as well.  In Mina's case, we see that she is forced to drink Dracula's blood (from a cut on his chest, by the way) after he takes hers.  Again, sexual.  But I can't help but love that about vampires.  Yes, they're scary and yes, they're creepy, but I think they're almost creepier because they look just like normal humans (albeit more attractive).  And of course, there's the fact that sex is kind of a scary thing, which is something vampires very obviously prey on.  I mean, why do you think there are so many romance novels about vampires?  They're really darn sexy!  Beyond that, there's this amazing symbolism with the drinking of blood and the transference of life.  I think that's why so many goths like to pair black and red, myself included: red is symbolic of passion, heat, and life ,while black is symbolic of death, fear, and the unknown.  It's just so beautiful to me.

Now, please don't take this as an attack on emos or anything like that.  I can understand and relate to them as well and I know they get a bad reputation because of the few idiots out there, just like we goths do.  And you all know I do love me some emo music because it's just so powerful and passionate!  All I wanted to do was clear up something that I've noticed a lot of people are unsure about.  Many kids at school refer to me as emo, whereas my family has told me I have "gothic tendencies" for years.  I researched this to clarify for myself that I am actually goth and I found the differences interesting.  I have by no means covered all of the differences, but I did hit some major ones, I think.  The pictures alone should have helped.  Of course, if you have any further questions, I'd be happy to answer them to the best of my abilities!  Sayonara for now!

- Turtle-chan

Band Feature: Kerbera

Konbanwa!  I think this is my last band feature for now!  Huzzah!  This one is a pretty interesting one.  I'm not really sure what genre I should call it.  I guess I'll call it rock.  Like, alternative rock.
The lead singer, Seike, is from Sweden and was formerly in the visual kei (a Japanese style of music) band Seremedy, and they sing in English.  Nationality-ception!  Anyway, Kerbera has only been around since 2013, but Seike is also in the band Die/May which leans more toward visual kei.  Their music is overall pretty cool.  All of the metal in Seike's face makes me cringe with sympathy pain, but that's how I feel about pretty much all piercings.  I don't like pain!

Also, for some reason, the guy in the hat reminds me of Sebastian from Black Butler, so I always kind of have to laugh at the thought of Sebastian playing guitar in a rock band when I see him in their music videos!  The picture doesn't really show the full extent of Seike's  facial piercings, so here's a better one.

He also has a bunch of ear piercings and it all just looks really painful!  But anyway, here are a couple of songs you should listen to.  It's literally only a couple, but they have others.  These are just the two I like the most:

- "Inglorious"  <---- hands down the most gruesome music video I have ever seen.  It's awesome!

- "Counterpoints"

So yeah, that's all for now.  I'm working on another installment of my Hetalia fanfic, so there will be more Germany soon!  For now, shine bright like a Doitsu and I'll catch you reader-sans later!

- Turtle-chan

Happy Holidays!!!- Germany x Reader Fanfiction (Installment 1)

Konichiwa!  I'm a little late for this, but happy holidays to all!  We did Christmas dinner with the whole family at our house this year, so I spent the past two days cooking and cleaning, largely, and I didn't have time to post anything. (>.<)  But now I hope I will be able to sort of make up for it because I have a present for my fellow fangirls!  I recently-ish started watching Hetalia and I absolutely love it.  I'm watching it with my little brother who is a history buff and he also enjoys it.  For anyone who isn't familiar with it, basically all you need to know is that all of the world's countries are people and the show makes each of the countries the personification of the main stereotypes about that country.  What I've been watching is Hetalia: Axis Powers, so a lot of it centers around World War II and events leading up to it, which is cool.  Also, the episodes are only five minutes long, give or take, and it's easy to make it through several episodes in a row.  On top of that, there are a lot of episodes in each season, but it's easy to watch because each episode is so short that it automatically gives the story momentum.
Anyway, I am not ashamed to admit that I have developed a bit of a crush on Germany, who I also refer to as Doitsu (Subs over dubs any day!!!!!).  He's just so darn adorable!  I don't think he gets enough love, so I decided to write a GermanyXReader fanfic, just because.  I haven't thought of a title yet, but I'll theoretically get there eventually...  I hope...  Suggestions would be great if anyone has any ideas...  But yeah, it's a fanfic, but I don't intend to have anything lemon-y in it.  I only recently found out what that means...  It was somewhat scarring as I thought the writer was talking about a fruit at first...  Yeah...  Bad memories...
Well anyway: Doitsu.  I'll give you all a lovely picture of his face to start you off and then I'll post the first part of the story.  I couldn't think of a good way to end this part, so it feels a little incomplete.  It may just end up being a bunch of random scenarios throughout time.  Also, I was too lazy to try to give Japan and Italy their own accents, so I just tried to keep with personality on them.  Germany, on the other hand, has a fabulous accent and here is a link in case you need a translation of it: http://www.instructables.com/id/How-To-Type-and-Talk-With-a-German-Accent/?ALLSTEPS
Pardon any bad grammar in the parts that aren't dialogue.  As usual, I haven't gone back and edited because I wanted to post as quickly as possible.  Catch you reader-sans later!


- Turtle-chan

What he looks like in the anime (^_^)

What I imagine for the story (>O<)

You’re sitting on your bed, watching anime on your laptop.  It’s Hetalia: Axis Powers and you’ve been laughing your butt off for the past five minutes and now the closing theme comes on and you sing along with it.  You’re about to go look for the next episode when the volume of the music increases suddenly.  You look at the screen in confusion, but it’s too bright and then you feel like you’re falling.  It doesn’t take long for you to pass out.

                “Hey, hey!  Germany!  Look at this!” a voice shouts loudly near you.  You can’t quite make your eyes open, but you’re uncomfortable.  There is something cold, hard, and wet under your body and you can’t quite feel your fingers and toes.

                “She is alive, Germany-san,” a soft voice says and you can hear the crunch of approaching footsteps.

                “Is she one of zem?” a very deep and rough voice inquires and the footsteps stop.

                “I do not believe so,” the soft voice answers.

                “Germany!  Can we take her home~?” the first voice asks.  It almost sounds like a child.

                There is silence for a moment before you hear a sigh.  “I suppose so,” the deep voice says.  You feel yourself being lifted and then you’re moving.

                You struggle to force your eyes open and find yourself looking at the sky.  It’s dark grey and full of ominous clouds.  You manage to turn your head a little and you see a fair-skinned, strong-jawed, blonde-haired man.  He is wearing a dark green uniform and he is looking straight ahead.

                “So you haf avakent,” he says.  He must have been the one with the deep voice.  You can feel the rumbling it causes in his chest.  “You are safe now.  Sleepen sie das vell.”

                You nod and allow yourself to relax in his arms as you drift back into unconsciousness.  There’s something about him that seems familiar, but you’re too tired to try to put your finger on it.

~~~

                It’s bright.  Light flows in through the windows and you sit up.  You’re in a room you don’t recognize and it takes you a moment to remember how you got here.  The room is simple, with just the essential furniture, but you like it.  It feels clean and refreshing.  You swing your legs over the side of the bed and try to stand, but you immediately fall to the ground with your head spinning.

                “Oh!” you exclaim, trying to support yourself with one hand while covering your eyes with the other.

                You hear a soft rapping on your door and you say,” Come in,” as you try to sit up and at least appear normal.

                A man with black hair and vacant brown eyes opens the door.  He is wearing a spotless white military uniform.  “Are you alright, miss?  I thought I had heard you fall,” he says in a soft, gentle voice.

                “Oh, I’m fine,” you respond with a smile.  “I just tried to stand up too quickly.”

                He nods and says,” I see.  Do you need assistance or are you capable of standing on your own?”

                “I’ll be alright.  Thank you for asking though,” you respond, slowly getting to your feet.

                “Not at all,” he says, moving to leave.  “Let us know if you are in need of any assistance.”

                You nod and he closes the door behind him.  You take a few shaky steps before finally regaining your balance.  Unfortunately, that’s about the time that you realize how sore you are.  Every muscle hurts and you wonder why.  You go to take a look in the mirror and you see that you’re covered in cuts and bruises and your hair is a mess.  You grimace a little and bring you hand up to gingerly touch a particularly nasty bruise on your cheek.  You feel dirty and all you want is to take a shower, but your stomach growls and you have to reorder your priorities.  You do what you can to make yourself look a little more presentable before stepping out into the hallway.  There is a set of stairs nearby that lead downward, so you follow them into what appears to be a living area with a kitchen right next to it.

                In the kitchen, there are three men: the blonde one that carried you last night, the black-haired one that you had just spoken to, and a brown-haired one.  All three are doing something different.  The brown-haired one is cooking something, the black-haired one is setting out plates and silverware, and the blonde is furiously trying to clean up all of the messes the brown-haired one makes.  The black-haired one happens to look up as you come down the stairs and you make eye contact with him.

                “Ah.  Good morning, miss,” he says quietly, giving you a slight bow.  You notice that he has a touch of an accent and you remember that his L’s sounded a little like R’s earlier, so you assume that he’s of Eastern descent somewhere.

                “Good morning,” you reply, trying not to feel embarrassed when the other two men turn around to look at you.

                “Ahh~  You must be hungry!  Don’t worry, I’m almost done cooking~!” the brown-haired one chirps.  He’s smiling at you and it looks like he has no eyes because he has them squeezed shut.  He also has this one weird little curl that sticks out from the rest of his head and you have the strange urge to go and pull it.  He’s wearing what looks almost like a sailor boy’s uniform and you’re kind of curious why they’re all dressed so strangely.

                “Would you like some help cooking?” you ask him.

                “Yeah!  That would be fun!” he says, moving over to make room for you.  When you stand next to him, you realize that he’s only a few inches taller than you.

                “So what are we cooking?” you ask and the blonde man jerks his head around to glare at the brown-haired man.

                “PASTAAAAAAA!!!!” the brown-haired man exclaims, holding up a box of pasta.  The blonde man shakes his head and goes back to cleaning and you giggle.

                “Alright.  Do you want me to cook the pasta, then?” you ask.

                “Yeah! “ he replies, holding the box out to you.  You take it from him and try to pull a pot down from a shelf above your head, but it’s too high for you, even when you stand on your toes.

                “Here,” a deep voice says from behind you.  You turn and see the blonde man standing over you, handing the pot down to you.

                You look up and notice for the first time that is eyes are a piercing blue, like the sky on a cloudless day.  You smile up at him a little shyly and take the pot from him.  “Thank you,” you tell him, taking one last peek at him before turning to your work.

                You fill the pot most of the way with water and set it on to boil, adding a pinch of salt.  “Oh, you know that trick too?” the brown-haired man asks, seeming to be surprised.

                “Yep.  The salt lowers the water’s specific heat, making it boil faster, and it gives the noodles a little flavor as well,” you respond cheerfully.

                “Yes~!  Ahh, pasta~!” the little man says happily to himself as he stirs a pot of what appears to be marinara sauce.

                The water comes to a rolling boil and you add in the pasta and set a timer for fifteen minutes.  While you wait, you talk to the brown-haired man.

                “Thank you guys for taking me in.  I’m not really sure how I got here or how to get back home, but I’ll try to not impose for too long,” you say to the room in general, but you’re looking at the brown-haired man.

                “It’s okay!  Germany is really nice and the food here isn’t bad like in England’s house,” he tells you.  “And Japan is nice too!  He likes kitties!”

                “Wait, who are you talking about?” you ask him, suddenly realizing what might have happened.

                “Oh!  We didn’t tell you our names yet!  That one is Germany.  He’s very strong and he can be kind of scary but he’s nice.  And he’s Japan.  He’s really quiet and polite and he doesn’t like hugs.  I’m Italy,” he tells you, pointing to the blonde man and the black-haired man before making it to himself.

                Your suspicion has been confirmed and you aren’t sure what to think.  You look at each of the three of them in shock.  Of course, it’s exciting because you love Hetalia, but it’s also a little scary because that must mean you’ve somehow gotten sucked into their anime world.  It’s strange, though, because they don’t look like anime characters.  They look like normal people.  Well, extremely attractive normal people, that is.  That’s why you didn’t recognize them at first.  If they had looked like they do in the anime, you would have had it as soon as you saw Germany…  Though you have to admit that you don’t mind the way he looks now.  He’s definitely not hard on the eyes…

                “Heeeyyy!  Heeeeyyy!” you hear Italy say, waving his hand in front of your face and you snap out of your thoughts.

                “Hm?  I’m sorry, did you say something?” you ask him, making sure to only look at him.

                “What’s your name?” he asks you.

                “Oh, I’m (y/n).  It’s a pleasure to meet you all,” you respond, looking at the ground.

                “Ahh~!  That’s a pretty name!” Italy tells you with a big smile and you blush a little bit.

                “Thank you,” you tell him shyly.

                “Hee hee~!  She’s shy!  Look, Germany!  She’s blushing!  It looks just like a rose~!” Italy exclaims, dragging Germany over to you, which only makes you blush more.

                “Leafe her be, Italy.  You are embarrasink zee girl,” Germany scolds him.

                “Okaaayy,” Italy says sadly, but then the timer goes off and he cheers up again.

                “PASTAAAAAA!!!” he cheers as you turn off the burner and drain the water off of the pasta.

                You giggle and move out of the way so that he can serve his plate.  In doing so, you bump into Germany who is reaching into the refrigerator.  “Oh, I’m sorry,” you tell him nervously.

                “Do not vorry about it,” he tells you, pulling out a bottle of beer.  “Vould you like somesink to drink?”

                “Oh, um, if you have any juice then I’ll take that, but if not then I’ll just get some water,” you say, looking away from him.

                “Hmm… Ah, here,” he says, holding out a jug of cranberry juice.

                “Thank you,” you say quietly, taking the jug from him.  You start looking around for something to put the juice in, but he beats you to it and hands you a glass.  “Oh, thanks… Again.”  You laugh a little awkwardly.

                Germany smiles a little bit and says,” Not at all, Mädchen.”

                You take the glass and jug of juice over to the table and pour the juice into the glass.  You take a sip of the bitter juice while you wait for the men to serve their plates.  Italy walks over to the table with his plate heaped high with pasta and he sits down and starts eating happily.  Japan is next, with a plate of plain noodles which he seasons with soy sauce.

                “Itadakimasu,” he says quietly before picking up his chopsticks and eating.

                “(y/n),” Germany says from behind you.

                You jump a little and turn around.  “Yes?” you ask.

                “Kome und get your food.  I vill go last,” he says, gesturing with his beer bottle.

                “Oh, okay,” you respond as you go over and put some pasta on your plate and then pour a little of the sauce over it.  Once you’re done, you go back to the table, but you aren’t sure where to sit.  Thankfully, Italy pats the seat next to him, so you sit there.

                You wait until Germany has joined you all at the table to start eating.  The pasta is surprisingly good, even if you don’t think it really constitutes as breakfast.  You largely don’t participate in conversation during the meal and neither does Japan.  Most of the talking consists of Italy being silly and Germany scolding him.  It’s funny to watch and you have a hard time keeping yourself from laughing.

                When everyone is finished, you all stand up and gather up the dishes, taking them over to the sink.  You offer to wash them, but Germany refuses.

                “Nein.  Vee need to treat your vounds,” he tells you.  Everything he says seems so stern.

                “Oh… Alright,” you say, remembering how much of a mess you look and feeling embarrassed about it.

                “You should let her take a shower, Germany~!” Italy says to him.  “Then Japan can wash her clothes for her!”

                “I vas goink to offer it!” Germany exclaims, his cheeks turning a little pink.

                You can’t help but laugh.  Their dynamic is just too comical.  Germany turns and looks at you, giving you his characteristic glare.  “Vat?  Vat is so funny?” he demands.

                You shake your head and smile up at him.  “Nothing, “you reply.

                He looks a little embarrassed still, but he doesn’t seem as angry.  “Fine.  I vill take you upshtairs,” he says, looking away.

                You follow him as he leads you to the bathroom.  He rummages in a cabinet inside the room and hands you a towel and a washrag, as well as a bar of soap.  “Here,” he says.  “Just leafen sie das clothes outside zee door.”

                “Thank you,” you tell him before slipping into the bathroom and closing the door behind you.

                You peel off your dirty clothes, being careful to avoid touching any of your cuts or bruises.  You try to bundle them together, but you keep your undergarments out of the bundle.  The thought of any of the men seeing your underthings makes you blush, though they do have to get washed somehow, but you’ll figure something out later.  You wrap the towel around your body and quickly put the clothes outside the door and then close and lock it behind you.  You don’t think any of the men would try to peep on you, but you don’t know them very well yet.  All you know about them is what you’ve seen in the anime.

                You get into the shower and turn the water on, letting the hot water wash over you.  It burns your cuts, but you don’t care.  You use the bar of soap to scrub the dirt and blood off of your body, making sure to wash every nook and cranny.  As you do so, you notice another scrape and you’re amazed you hadn’t realized it was there before.  It goes from the bottom of your ribcage to your hip.  The soap and water have made it burn like crazy, but at least you know it’s clean.  I’ll definitely need to do something about that.  Since you can’t find any shampoo, you have to resort to using the bar soap on your hair as well, much to your dismay.  It’s better than nothing, though, and soon you have yourself cleaned off to the point that you at least look halfway decent.  You turn the water off and step out of the shower, drying yourself off with the towel and then wrapping it around your body.

                You carefully walk back to your room, clutching the towel to your chest.  When you get inside, you shut the door behind you and look around for some clothes.  You see a little pile on the bed with a piece of paper on top of it.  You go over and look at it.

                Your clothes are not dry yet.  Germany-san has said that you may use these in the meantime.  My apologies, (y/n)-san.

• Japan

“Hm,” you say after you finish reading the note.  Now you’re really glad that you decided to keep your underwear out of the wash pile.  You slip it on and then put on the clothes left by Japan.  It’s obvious that they’re Germany’s, even if Japan hadn’t said so.  The black t-shirt he left you looks like a dress and the waistband of the pants comes up to your chest.  You decide to ditch the pants since the shirt is so long and since you can’t get them to stay on.  Then, you fold the pants back up and wrap your hair in the towel.  You walk down the stairs and find Germany sitting at the table, reading.  Interestingly enough, he’s wearing glasses and they actually look really good on him.

        “Um, Mr. Germany?” you say tentatively, standing in the doorway.

        He jumps a little and looks up at you, taking off his glasses.  “Oh, (y/n).  Vat is it?  Do you neet somesink?” he asks you as he closes his book.

        “I couldn’t find a first aid kit and you said I needed to treat my wounds, so…” you say, not really sure where you’re going with this.

        “Follow me,” he says, standing and walking out of the room.

        You have to walk quickly to keep up with him.  He seems to have gone into a part of the house that is used more for work purposes.  There are offices down the hall and there is also an infirmary, which is the room Germany enters.

        “Sitten sie das down,” he says, indicating an examination table in the middle of the room.  You obey and go sit on it.  The t-shirt rides up, though, and you shiver as your thighs touch the cold table.

        Germany turns back around holding a first aid kit.  It seems he realizes for the first time what you’re wearing and his ears turn pink.  You feel self-conscious as well and you look away from him.  “Um, I couldn’t get them to stay on, so here,” you say awkwardly, holding the pants out to him.

        “Oh, I see,” he says, taking the pants and placing them at the end of the table.  “Ah, here.  I vill help to treat your vounds.”

        “Alright,” you say, wondering what you should do about the cut on your side.  It needs to be dealt with, but you feel uncomfortable letting him do it.

        Meanwhile, Germany diligently works his way through the worst of the scrapes on your arms and legs.  He also takes care of a particularly bad cut on your eyebrow.  “Before I put up zee sings, did I miss anysing?” he asks, looking up at you.

        You flush a little and say,” Um, well… There’s one more, but I don’t know if you should treat it…”

        “Nein.  I do not kare vere it is.  I vill treat your vounds.  Now, vere is it?” he says firmly.

        You close your eyes and lift the shirt up, feeling unspeakably uncomfortable.  “Um, can you see it?” you ask him, afraid to open your eyes.

        “Ja.  Zat is a goot one,” he says in his usual stern voice.  “Zis vill probably hurt.”

        You feel his fingers brush against your ribcage and you wince.  He was right; it hurts.  You open your eyes and watch his face.  His ears are still pink, but you notice that the further down moves on the wound, the more his blush spreads, until he reaches your hip and both of your faces are as red as tomatoes.

        “Zere.  Zat shoult do it,” Germany says, clearing his throat and deliberately looking away as he puts everything back in the kit.  You quickly cover yourself up again and stare at your hands in your lap.

        “Ah, thank you for helping me, Mr. Germany,” you say.

        “Stop sankink me.  You are under my protection now, so I vill help you vis vat you neet,” he says gruffly, but when you look at his face you see that he’s still blushing.

        “Alright,” you say, smiling.

        Germany stands up and brushes himself off before putting the kit up.  “Do you neet help standink?  Zee bandages may make it hart to moof,” he says, holding a hand out to you.

        You take it and he completely encloses your small hand is his large one, easily pulling you to your feet.  You stagger a little bit, but you manage to steady yourself.  Then, he lets go and leads you back out into the main area of the house.

        “Men!  Ve are trainink in fife minutes!” he bellows up the stairs.

        “GEEERRRRRMMAAANNNYYYYYY!” you hear Italy whine.  “Do we have to train every day?”

        “Vee haf been over zis already, Italy.  You are veak so you must train.  You don’t vant France to beat you up again, do you?” Germany says in a tone of exasperation.

        “I am ready, Germany-san,” Japan says quietly.

        “Goot.  Let us go,” Germany says, leading the way out the door and ignoring Italy’s whining.  “(y/n), you may kome und obserf if you vant.  You vill shtart trainink tomorrow.”

        “Alright,” you say, nodding and following Japan out the door.   The men all walk out onto the expanse of land that makes up Germany’s back yard.  It is bordered by woods and you recognize it from the anime.

        “So!  Italy, vat do you do ven you see France or England?” Germany barks, going into drill sergeant mode.

        “I do this!” Italy replies, pulling a white flag out of heaven only knows where and waving it furiously.  “Vee~!  Vee~!  Vee~!”

        “Wrong!  Japan, vat do you do?” he shouts.

        “Observe the situation and decide what to do.  If they have seen you, meet them in battle.  If they have not, quietly retreat,” he says quietly and promptly.

        “Klose enough!  Now, vee vill run!  Try to keep up, Italy!” he yells, taking off his jacket before he starts running.

        Japan and Italy follow suit.  Japan runs fairly quickly, but Italy is weak and keeps getting distracted, so Germany falls behind to deal with him.

        “Vat do you sink you are doink?” he demands of Italy who is playing with a cat.

        “I don’t like to run,” Italy complains, cuddling the cat closer.

        “You neet to train!  Zat vite flag von’t safe you!” he tells him.

        Italy is crying now, so you decide it’s time to step in.  “Oh, come on, Italy.  Running can be fun.  It’s like a game,” you tell him, bending down as much as your bandages will allow.

        “Really?  How, (y/n)?” he asks you, wiping away his tears.

        “Well, I’ll show you if you promise to play with us,” you tell him with a benevolent smile.

        He nods,” I’ll play, I’ll play!”

        “Well alright,” you say, tapping his arm.  “Tag!  You’re it! Come and get me!”  You take off running, ignoring Germany’s protests.

        “You shoult not be runnink!  Do you vant to open zose scabs?” he shouts behind you.

        Italy on the other hand is laughing and you can hear him catching up to you.  “Vee~!  This is fun!” he exclaims.

        You decide to put on some speed and catch up to Japan.  “We’re playing tag,” you tell him breathlessly as you run by.  He looks confused and continues running.  You hear Italy shout out, “Tag!” behind you and you assume he got Japan.

        Not long after that, Germany comes flying past you.  He glances over his shoulder at you and smirks.  “I vill not be losink your game,” he tells you.  You smile and purposely lag behind.

        “Tag,” Japan says, from behind you.

        You look over at him and say,” Thanks!  See you guys at the end!” and take off.

        You can see Germany ahead of you, his black tank-top standing out against his fair skin.  Your lungs burn and your body aches, but you’re also having fun.  Besides, you’ve been given a challenge and you can’t just let Germany win so easily.  No matter how fast you run, it seems like you never get any closer to him, though.

        You feel determined, though, and you put your head down and start to really pump your legs.  I can do this.  I can do this.  I can do this!  Finally, you’re catching up and it’s not long before Germany is almost within your arm’s reach.  Unfortunately, he hears you come up behind him, glances back at you, and runs faster.  You groan and pick up your speed again as well.  At this point, you’re running basically as fast as you can go and your body hates you for it.  You’re actually a little worried that you’re going to fall and hurt yourself again, but you try to push the negative thoughts out of your head.  All that you can focus on is the black tank-top ahead of you.  Steeling yourself, you put on a last ditch burst of speed.  You close your eyes and stretch your arms out in front of you as you run, hoping to trick yourself into going faster.  You hold your breath and hope to make it.

        You do.  You slam into Germany’s back and he stumbles to a stop.  “Tag,” you gasp, bending over and using Germany for support.

        He looks down at you in amazement and starts chuckling.  “Vell, vell.  I sink I haf underestimatet you, Mädchen,” he says.  He doesn’t even sound winded.

        “Maybe,” you say, but then you start coughing and you let go of Germany to cover your mouth, but then you fall down and land on your backside on the dirt.

        “Are you alright?  Oi, vat’s wrong?” Germany asks with concern, kneeling beside you.  You’re coughing too much to talk, so you just shake your head.  Japan and Italy come to a halt near the two of you.

        “What’s wrong?” Italy asks.

        “I don’t know.  I vill be back.  I vant you to do push-ups vile I am gone,” he says as he scoops you up and carries you bridal style into the house.

        He lays you down on the sofa and goes into the kitchen to get a glass of water.  You’ve stopped coughing, but you still feel a little sick and weak.  He comes back in with the glass of water and squats down next to you, watching you drink.

        “Zat’s it.  Just a little at a time,” he tells you encouragingly.

You finish about half of the water and then you stop drinking.  “I’m sorry,” you tell Germany hoarsely.  “You told me I shouldn’t run, but I did anyway.  I should have listened.”

“Nein.  You helpt vith Italy.  It vas… fun.  You shouldn’t push yourself so hart, zough,” he tells you, mussing your hair a little.

You smile down into your glass of water at the gesture.  “Alright.  I’ll be more careful,” you tell him.  “Would you like some water before you go back to training?”  You offer him your glass.

“Nein.  It voult not be fair to zee ozers.  Sank you, zough,” he says kindly, standing up and stretching.

“Um, would it be alright if I came back to watch you guys train?  I promise not to overdo it this time,” you say, not sure what sort of answer to expect.

Germany looks down at you and nods.  “If zat is vat you vish,” he replies, walking off.