#I've spent most of this spring sick and even though things seem to be getting better

[canisalbus]

✦ Convalescence ✦

[casspurrjoybell-28]

Alpha's Temptation - Chapter 36 - Part 1

*Warning Adult Content*

In the days that follow my reveal of everything, Daemon is very gentle with me.

He seems worried about even touching me sometimes.

He probably doesn't want to scare me again, especially after knowing what happened to me.

While I appreciate his concern it's really not necessary.

I trust him with everything I have.

And I sealed that trust in telling him my truth.

The past still haunts me. I still get nightmares and horrible flashbacks.

I still get anxious and sad and mad and all those negative feelings that have been pent up inside me for so long.

But I also feel a bit lighter.

I feel like a weight has come off my chest.

It was really nerve wracking, confessing my past to him.

Because I was afraid of judgment.

Afraid of it being real. 

But all that mattered to Daemon was that I'd been hurt.

That's it.

He didn't think of me as disgusting or dirty or bad... all the things I thought of myself because of what happened to me.

He cared that I had been harmed and wanted revenge for my sake.

On the nights I wake up screaming, crying or fighting for my life, he's there.

He's there to wipe the tears away, to reassure me that it's only a nightmare, to hold and kiss me through my distress and show me that he's there to protect me.

When I used to sleep alone, waking up from a night terror was worse than being in it.

The gut-wrenching fear wouldn't fade for hours of insomnia, wheezing for air as I unsuccessfully tried to calm myself.

It was misery.

Time heals but I think time spent with him heals the most.

So when he tells me he can't stay over for a few days I'm a bit disappointed.

But he says he has to work late into the night and early morning, even.

I don't complain because he's done so much for me already.

As for Wren and Jay... that's a bit more complicated.

"Did you know Wren got fucking pregnant?" Lylah screeches into the cell-phone at me the day before spring break ends.

It didn't take long for the rumor mill at our school to get going.

I guess someone must have heard our fight in the hallway.

"I mean..." I trail off, not wanting to add to the drama.

"He always does this... doesn't tell anyone anything until it's too late..."

"So you didn't know about the baby?" I ask. "Was there a baby?"

Lylah sighs.

"I don't think so. He never showed... his stomach, I mean."

"Well I think Jay and him talked so there's that. Have you two talked, though?"

"No. He's been completely AWOL the entire break. I swear when I see him tomorrow he's getting it."

I can't say I'm looking forward to getting off break.

I wake up boiling hot, feeling restless after dreaming about Daemon doing unspeakable things to me.

I've been having a lot of steamy dreams like this lately, which is a nice break from my usual nightmares.

As I turn over in bed, moving my legs, I'm confused when I feel wetness between them.

I hastily yank down my pants, pulling off my underwear to see if I came.

But there's no white stains.

It just looks sticky and clear... I've never gotten wet without direct stimulation from Daemon before, so that's a little off.

Embarrassed, I pull off my soiled bottoms and throw them in the hamper.

Maybe it's just a normal thing for Omegas.

I'm still feeling really feverish when I get to school, dizzy with want for something to quench this feeling.

I must be super dehydrated.

On my second bottle of water in 2nd period, Jay glances at me strangely.

We haven't spoken about what went down with Wren the before the break, the air awkward and silent between us.

"Are you sick?" he asks suddenly. "Your face is flushed."

I take a few deep breaths, blinking at him.

"I d-don't think so..?"

If anything, I'm feeling super freaking horny.

But it's not like I can tell him that.

I clench my legs tightly, trying not to think about the way Daemon touched me in my dream.

It's not long before the familiar wetness between my legs comes back like this morning. Fuck.

"You sure seem like it. You also kinda... smell," Jay sniffs the air curiously.

"I smell?? Is it bad?" I ask, embarrassed.

"Not bad at all, no," Jay replies, leaning in, taking another whiff. "Did you put on some kind of perfume?"

I glance around and notice a couple of Alphas are looking at me, a strange light in their eyes.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

I turn away from him, pretending to concentrate on my work.

But all I can focus on is the pulsing in my crotch.

God, I need something.

I just don't know what yet.

By the time lunch rolls around I can barely think straight, so unbearably horny that I had to go to the bathroom to wipe myself off between third and fourth.

I'm approaching the lunch table where Lylah sits when I stumble, feeling faint.

Immediately Jay swoops in to catch me and I fall against him.

"Ash..."

Lylah rushes over.

"Ash,what's wrong?"

I clutch Jays shirt, trying to stand up.

"I'm so hot," I mumble, gasping for breath.

"Oh my God," Lylah says, observing me with wide eyes.

"What?" Jay asks.

"He's in heat."

"In heat? Why did he come to school?"

"You don't understand. He's never had it before," Lylah exclaims.

"He's attracting too much attention."

"Let's take him to my car. I can drive him home," Lylah says and then I'm being picked up into Jays arms, weak against his chest.

I just keep my eyes closed, resisting the urge to scream that I want sex and I want it now.

With a certain Alpha, of course.

Jay unloads me into the car and I mutter a faint goodbye to him, collapsing onto the seat.

"Ash I can't believe you. Walking into a school full of Alphas when you're in heat... you're so defenseless sometimes. Especially when Daemon's not there to protect you." Lylah chastises, turning the ignition.

"Daemy..." I giggle, curling up on the seat.

"Yeah yeah very cute. But imagine the heart attack you're gonna give Lucien."

Lylah shakes her head, turning onto the main road.

It's stiflingly hot in the back of her car and I get the urge to strip my clothes off and spread my legs, though she would definitely not appreciate that.

So instead I sit up, rolling down the window and sticking my face out.

The cool air whipping my face feels amazing and I smile, breathing it in.

I'm finally calming down when my nose scents traces of Daemon in the wind, and my eyes flash open.

"I have to get out," I suddenly declare.

"What? We're in the middle of the road."

"Now. I need to go to him, now."

"Ash no..."

We're stopped at a red light, thankfully but that doesn't stop Lylah from screaming as I transform into my wolf and jump out of the car window, bounding in between cars to get to the sidewalk.

A couple of people honk at me but I don't care.

I run down the sidewalk, taking a shortcut through a random alley to the woods.

I gallop through the trees, my white fur ruffling in the breeze.

He's near. I smell him.

And then I come upon a clearing where he stands, his back to me.

I realize this is where we first met.

Where I him from him but he found me anyway.

The second I approach he whips around, eyes finding mine immediately.

Mate.

[chosonore]

summary: choso always takes good care of you, whether you're sick or not. even when you're sick and slightly delirious, your opinion could never be swayed - you loved choso with all your heart.

a/n: honestly, this is purely self-indulgent because i'm sick and i want a choso to take care of me until i know what's wrong and get better 🥺 it's inspired by the naoya fic i've written a while ago but uh this just really reads like a love letter to choso lol. i love him so much i'm not even kidding, no one could ever compare to him

if you were to describe the relationship between choso and you, it would be comfortable silence. choso didn't speak a lot, rarely starting a conversation on his own unless he was overcome by sudden curiosity. truthfully, you didn't mind as you were a quiet person yourself. and somehow, the communication was effortless, a silent and mutual understanding of your needs. he made you feel comfortable and safe, cared for as he always seemed to sense what you needed. falling in love with choso was easy and so natural, as if you'd been lovers in your previous lives. you'd been a couple for a long time now, but it wasn't until recently that you moved in with him. almost instantaneously, a routine was established - while you were busy with your studies, choso spent most of his time at the tattoo studio he recently opened with his friends. you didn't mind because still, he always made time for you. with no shadow of a doubt, he would always prioritize you before anything. so, every bit of time that you could get was spent together.

as any other day, you woke up alone in your bed, the scent of freshly brewed tea wafting through the air. choso sometimes left early in the morning to work on administrative tasks or tidying the studio but never failed to prepare you a little breakfast beforehand. as you sat up, a wave of nausea overcame you, quickly forcing you to lie down again. it was only then that you noticed you felt strangely cold and your nose was stuffed, shuddering uncomfortably in your clothes. it was rare that you got sick, so everytime it did happen, it drained you rapidly. blindly reaching for your phone, you texted choso, blinking at the bright screen.

me: i think i got sick :( can you pick up some medicine on your way home?

almost instantly, your screen lit up.

choso 💉: ?

"hello?" you croaked as you accepted choso's call and sniffled quietly.

"are you okay? do you want me to come home early?" choso might have sounded indifferent but you knew better. he would never show his concern to you, always wanting to keep his strong and protective persona. he was just that kind of person, he lived to be a good example to others.

"no it's okay, choso. i think it might be a really bad cold, that's all. i'll be fine if i get enough rest."

a hum. choso didn't sound convinced.

"then get some rest, yeah? make sure to have some tea. i'll wrap things up here and come home in a bit. call me if you need anything."

you hummed in agreement, making a weak kissy noise as you said goodbye to him and chucked your phone on the night table. no matter how much you wanted to convince him to continue his work, he would come home regardless. it didn't sit well with him to not care for you while you were sick. a small smile found its way onto your lips, how lucky you were to have found a lover like him. as you drifted off to sleep, choso was quickly finishing his paperwork, earning some amused glances from his friends. it was evident that this had to do with his girlfriend - choso would never let anyone tell him what to do nor do them any favours if it wasn't someone he deeply cared for.

"you're really speedrunning through everything to get back home to y/n, huh? you only got here," geto teased him, looking up from the sketches he was preparing for display.

"she got sick this morning. wanna be there for her in case it gets worse. i don't have any appointments for today anyways so you'll be fine," choso curtly explained, not picking up on geto's teasing undertone. even though they liked to joke about how whipped he was for you, they never questioned him - you were his love, his light. if anything, they envied him for the relationship, a relationship that flowed so effortlessly and easily like a spring working its way through bottlenecks and rocky river beds, silent and yet strong. geto pat choso's shoulder and shot him a knowing look, reassuring him that they could run the studio just fine.

even if you didn't sound like your afflictions were severe, choso still felt uneasy. he wanted to make sure you were okay, wanted to care for you. maybe it was moreso his fear of losing people he loved, but he couldn't deny his caring nature. on his way home, he'd picked up some ingredients to make soup as well as some medicine. music was sounding through the apartment as he entered and placed the bags on the counter, keeping an eye out for you. were you still in bed? he padded towards your shared bedroom, quietly nudging the door open as he squeezed his way in. you were laying on the bed, giggling at a book you were reading, not having noticed him yet.

the bed dipped next to you, making you drop the book you were holding. choso's twin tails came into your vision until you could see the entirety of him hovering above you, scrutinizing your figure in thought. "hi baby," he greeted you with a gentle smile, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "how are you feeling?"

"kinda achy and cold," you described with a pout, leaning into choso's touch as he brushed your hair with his fingers. "did you bring me some medicine?"

choso nodded, explaining that he'd be making you some soup as it was better not to take the medicine on an empty stomach. he wrapped you in the blanket before disappearing in the kitchen. you listened to the sounds in the kitchen, feeling more at ease now that he was home. you must have fallen asleep as the soup was done, its savoury scent rousing you from your slumber. as the primary cook in this household, choso's cooking skills were excellent and never failed to amaze you. sometimes you couldn't believe he was real. choso kept an eye on you as you munched away, handing you the medicine once you were done. he joined you on the bed, wrapping his arms around you as he pulled you towards him. you were placed on his lap like a baby, making you giggle as you leaned against his chest.

"will you play with my hair?" you requested with a small yawn. choso obliged, weaving his fingers through your hair as he worked through the knots and massaged your scalp. you hummed in relaxation, struggling to keep your eyes open. instead, you focused on the tattoos on his arm that was placed around your waist, tracing the patterns with your fingers. when you first met, the skin on his arm was sparsely filled, he'd only started on completing his sleeve tattoos. it was a slow and gradual process. you were always the first person he'd proudly showed a new addition to, and in a way, the tattoos marked the journey of your relationship. you were thankful for him, thankful to have found someone who silently understood you.

he was too hesitant to ask you just yet as you'd told him years prior that you weren't sure about getting tattoos but you knew he wanted to be the one to give you your first tattoo. maybe you were delirious from your sickness, maybe it was then in that moment that you realized you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him, maybe it was your overwhelming love- "choso? i think it's time i get a tattoo soon."

choso's hand came to a halt and he made an incredulous noise. "y/n, i don't think- it might be better if we discuss this when you feel better again."

"no, i'm serious. it's just... i trust you so much. you always take good care of me and you're just always there. i'm uh- i honestly can't imagine my life without you, i just love you so much," you confessed with embarrassment, hiding your face in your hands as you finished talking. choso chuckled as he pried your hands away, pecking your lips in adoration. he looked gleeful, as if hearing your admission of love for the first time - the feeling was mutual, you just couldn't believe he was yours.

"we'll talk about this again when you've fully recovered. but i'm happy that you trust me with this."

"i'll be fine soon, i just need a lot of vitamin c," you giggled hysterically. "vitamin choso."

choso groaned but couldn't stop the laughter tumbling from his lips either, opting to tickle your sides and blowing raspberries into your shoulder. you squealed, trying to push him off you before being pulled back into his arms again. choso buried his head in the crook of your neck, placing a kiss on it. he didn't show you his face, not wanting you to see his teary eyes.

"i love you a lot, you know?"

"i love you more."

[gingersnaaps]

at your window

hanahaki: the fictional disease where a person, afflicted by unrequited love, grows flowers in their lungs and stomach. unless the love is reciprocated, the disease will grow fatal. there's one workaround, though - one that issei matsukawa is very interested in: the plant can be physically removed.

wc: ~3.8k

tags/tw's(PLEASE PLEASE READ): n*fw, masturbation only(no sex), stalking, snuff, gore, blood, yandere!matsukawa, sorta necro(attraction but not sex), noncon filming, fem!reader but no mention of genitals

a/n: for @suedebunn's april showers collab // this is the most self-indulgent thing i've ever written and i spent way too long on it. it's supposed to lean towards horror?

i don't want minors interacting with my content

March 8th, 2013

[12:47 am]

The longer Issei sits outside your window, the harder it becomes to stop himself.

His face is pressed up against the dusty glass pane, peering inside at the outline of your sleeping body, and he finds that he can’t help but fixate on it. You look so peaceful, so tranquil, completely at rest as your mind flits between the shadowy realms that dreams inhabit.

He wonders what kind of wonderland you’re in right now - if it’s cotton-candy pink and delightful, just like you, or dark and hazy and spun with danger.

You’d look beautiful in any setting, he thinks, and finds his hand inadvertently drifting downwards.

His gaze rakes over the rise and fall of your chest, taking in the flashes of bare skin where your sheer nightgown rides up, his breath catching as his palm glides over his clothed cock. The friction feels so good - there’s no question that he wants this, needs this - and he wastes no time unzipping his pants and reaching in to free his dick. He doesn’t need to fantasize much, not when you’re mere feet away, instead making sure he sears every detail of your sleeping form into his mind: your fluttering eyelashes, your shallow breaths, the soft glow of your skin in the moonlight.

Issei quickens his pace, stroking up and down the shaft of his cock with purpose, thumb flicking over the slit. His breath huffs against the glass, clouding the surface until it’s dripping with condensation, but he still sees you as clear as day in his mind even as the real image of you blurs. You’re blissed out and relaxed, shoulders free of tension, your lips curving slightly into a smile.

He closes his eyes, rolling his head back as he works his cock, every single brush of his fingers leaving him twitching with sensitivity. You look like an angel, picture-perfect and frozen in time and consciousness, as if you were a framed picture or a museum exhibit preserved just for Issei to admire. Just for Issei. He lets out a quiet groan at the thought as he cums, his hips stuttering and cock jerking up.

You turn over fitfully in your sleep.

Looking down at the cum dripping off his fingers, he wants nothing more than to crawl in through your window and wipe it on your face. It’s an unmistakable mark of ownership, a sign that you belong to him alone, but he hesitates. He’s a bit of a shy guy, you see.

He can wait.

-

March 14th, 2013

[10:01 pm]

He has to conceal himself a bit better tonight than he would on his normal visits. This time, he’s a bit early, and you’re still awake.

His back is up against the siding of your house, right beside your window, but he can still see you in the periphery of his vision. You’re sitting at your desk, bathed in the warm light of your desk lamp, hunched over some math worksheet and scribbling furiously with the pencil in your hand.

Forget the moon; you glow even prettier as the world around you fades to dark.

Just like every other night, he takes in every detail meticulously. Your hair is messier than it was the previous day - maybe you hadn’t washed it in a while? He doesn’t mind, because it’s endearing when you’re messy and imperfect, barefaced in your pajamas, a little rough around the edges.

He thinks it’s similar to the way you’d look after being fucked stupid, if he closed his eyes and tried to picture you being ruined.

Issei tries very hard to ignore the way his cock strains in his pants at the thought.

-

March 23, 2013

[11:30 pm]

The mild spring breeze carries the sweet scent of fresh blossoms and green grass, leaving behind the wintry chill that he had to shiver through each night to be at your side - well, as close by your side as he could get.

These little visits have become a part of his life now, as ingrained as waking up in the morning or eating three times a day. It’s comforting for him to watch you from his spot outside your window each night, admiring you as you go about your nighttime routine, puttering from your desk to your bathroom to your bedroom.

He’s started to take some pictures, maybe even a shaky, pixelated video or two, just to tide him over when he’s alone by himself. They’re no replacement for the real thing, obviously, but it’s enough for him to be able to carry around a reminder of the way you look and sound all the time, even if it’s just a shadow of what you’re like in person. He’ll scroll through his camera roll, fingers trembling with excitement, hissing as he brings his hand down to stroke at his cock.

It’s always better in person, though. He sees you more clearly, hears the sound of your voice muffled through the walls, and most of all, he’s closer to you.

Issei likes to make it last, likes to prolong the pleasure as much as possible, so he always starts off with slow, gentle, pumps, gliding up and down his cock with his index finger and thumb curled into a circle. It’s honestly a miracle how you haven’t noticed yet, because he always tends to lose himself after he starts.

Face pressed close against the window in order to get the best view possible, his warm huffs of breath cloud up the cold glass as he strokes himself faster. His eyes rolling back into his head, his two digits of measured stimulation give way quickly to full, hard, pumps of his cock until soft moans start to spill from his mouth.

It’s hard to resist when you’re right there.

Tonight, you’re sprawled out on your bed, phone held above your face as you chat with your friend on video call. You’re shaking with laughter at some silly joke your friend’s telling, head thrown back and chin tilted upwards, face shining with joy, and he suddenly feels a warm, warm feeling of arousal course through him.

Seeing you happy turns him on, makes his cock so hard even though he just came minutes prior.

The sound of your voice carries through the walls, carefree and bright, chattering on and on about some assignment - or maybe it’s a complaint about the teacher, he’s not too sure - and he smiles contentedly at your silly little worries. Too cute, really.

You suddenly cough.

It’s an ugly sound, dry and strangled, and he cringes at the way your body tenses up and shakes. The coughing fit feels far longer than it actually is; every second of your hacking and wheezing is compounded by the panic gripping him. He watches, helpless, as your face turns ashen and grey, his heart seizing with dread and pounding in his chest.

It’s over as quickly as it begins.

You smile weakly, brushing it off as you apologize to your friend, but he can’t shake the uneasy feeling that settles at the pit of his stomach. He tugs up his pants, bare thighs and dick feeling awfully exposed in the night wind, and scurries back home. Maybe another night, then.

-

April 1st, 2013

[12:09 am]

You’re not in your room today.

Issei leans his head against the cold glass of your windowpane, hands shoved into his jacket, his mind clouding at the edges and overrun with possibilities. He doesn’t recall seeing you making plans with friends the previous night, and there’s not much you could be really doing right now - you have no boyfriend, no plans that he knows of, no real reason to just be gone.

He’s always thought of himself as a calm person. He doesn’t fall victim to temporary urges and flights of emotion the same way that Oikawa or Iwaizumi might, doesn’t do anything reckless on whims he knows will disappear just hours later.

But there’s just something about you that always makes him lose himself, isn’t there?

The window is fogged up with condensation, obscuring his view inside your room. He reaches out the sleeve of his jacket, wiping away the dew clinging to the surface, and squints as he tries to make out the scene in the dim lighting.

On the floor, awash in a pool of moonlight, lies a yellow flower petal spattered with blood.

-

April 4th, 2013

[4:46 am]

Issei’s not stupid.

He knows what the flower petal means, knows what your sickness means. He’s read about it in books, heard the tales from his parents friends, the whispered legends and hushed myths that make one thing clear:

You belong to someone else.

It’s a thought that fills him with revulsion. You already have Issei; is he not enough for you? Are you such a whore that his devotion falls short of what you’re so clearly greedy for?

He’s stopped restricting himself to just his nightly visits. They’re not enough, not when he can’t seem to go five minutes without his thoughts inevitably drifting to you - you in your fluttery, sheer nightgown, lying in your bed, your frame growing sicker and frailer as the blood drains from your cheeks and your coughing fits grow more frequent.

You can hide it from the prying eyes of your friends at school, from your teachers, even from your parents(as long as you make sure to roll your eyes a few times and lean into that murky, illusory persona of teenage angst), but here in your bedroom, your sanctuary, all your vulnerabilities crawl out and bubble to the surface, bared to your four off-white walls and his eyes only.

You can’t hide this from Issei; not the symptoms, and certainly not the disease.

He sets his alarm every day early enough to hear the nighttime croaking of frogs, the shrill, insistent chirping of cicadas, hours before the sky bleeds daylight, making his way over to your house. He stands outside, silent, his fingers pressed up against the window.

He doesn’t know why he goes anymore. You look ugly when you’re sick. Your healthy complexion has given way to grey, and his dick goes limp every time he tries to jerk himself off. It’s a reminder of the fact that he can’t ever have you the way he used to dream about: lively, healthy, and wholly devoted to him and him alone.

At this point, the pictures and videos of you are the only thing he has left, a pitiful reminder of everything you used to be. He has no use for those other girls from porn sites online, or even the scantily clad social media posts of his classmates. Issei only wants you, but you aren’t quite who you used to be, and every time he trudges home after staring through that stupid window, there’s always a bitter aftertaste in his mouth that makes his blood curdle.

It’s not that he’s jealous, exactly. He doesn’t really give a fuck who you’re pining after, because it’s you he cares about. He wants to own you, to possess your body, mind, and soul, wants you to end up at his side one day, acknowledging him with tears brimming in your lovely eyes, voice raw and hoarse as you chant thank you Issei, thank you, thank you for watching over me, Issei, i’m yours, Issei, i love you, Issei

Maybe it’s no wonder he can’t stop thinking about you.

-

April 19th, 2013

[11:52 pm]

He finds you passed out on the floor, surrounded by crumpled piles of faded carnation petals. They’re a sickly yellow, browning at the edges, tinged with blood and vomit and spit. It’s a scene straight out of a movie, illuminated by the waning moon, the cold, pale, uneven light casting shadows that dance across your body.

-

April 24th, 2013

[2:03 am]

Issei is nothing if not a practical man. If there’s a problem, he’s going to fix it.

He’s had enough of waiting, anyway.

-

April 25th, 2013

[12:00 am]

He’s never actually been inside your room before. It’s eerily quiet, save for your shallow, rapid breaths, all outside noises absorbed by the walls and curtains. It almost feels like he’s dreaming as he makes his way over to your bedside, his shadow stretching and bending in the distorted light like those funhouse mirror reflections.

Your lips are parted slightly, mouth agape as if in waiting, and he can’t help but run a finger along your cracked, ashen lips.

Issei shivers.

He’s never been quite so close to you before. It’s almost anticlimactic, the way he ends up at your side. He won’t lie; he had been hoping for a different ending, one with more sunshine and roses, one where you’d be smiling happily by his side as he tenderly holds your hand.

But he can’t change the way things are, and he’s more than willing to make the best of what he’s got.

He doesn’t have any surgical tools that might’ve been more fitting, but he supposes a kitchen knife - one he’d sharpened just yesterday - should work well enough. He runs a finger along the back of the gleaming metal, admiring the way it glints, brilliant and blinding, even in the midst of the dim room.

The old, worn, bed creaks beneath him as he climbs carefully on top of you, straddling your torso, taking care not to place too much pressure on your body. He reaches out to caress your face, brushing a loose strand of hair aside as he appraises you. In sickness, you were nowhere near as beautiful as you were before, but your proximity almost makes up for it; Issei can feel your heart thrumming beneath your skin, can feel the huff of your breath on his hand as your chest rises and falls.

He almost regrets having to do this.

Bringing the blade up to your chest, he begins to cut through your paper-thin nightgown. As the fabric rips, it falls to either side to reveal your chest, and his breath catches. The soft curve of your tits are stained with red, little green buds of growth peeking out from your chest and between your ribs. Blood blooms across your skin, thorns and stems pricking out from the smooth surface of your skin, standing out in stark relief as the sick, twisted, unnatural growth threatens to burst out of your body.

He flutters his fingers along your delicate skin, trailing gentle touches down your stomach, completely absorbed in the way you look and feel.

So absorbed, in fact, that he almost doesn’t notice the way you tense, eyes blinking awake, as pain lances through your body.

Issei’s quick, though - far quicker than you, at least, and by the time you open your mouth to scream, fear catching in your throat, he shoves a large hand over your mouth to muffle any of the unpleasant noises that threaten to spill out.

“Shh,” he whispers, voice hoarse and foreign in his own chest. He’s not used to speaking to you. ��If you don’t hold still, it’s going to hurt even more.”

You freeze in terror at the implications of his words, eyes catching on the blade pointed at your chest. There’s a sudden urge to lash out, to fight back - but it quickly passes. You’re not stupid.

You know that he’s far stronger than you, far faster, and as his calm, remorseless gaze latches onto your body, you realize very quickly that any resistance would be futile.

He begins his work as soon as he feels you go limp beneath him. You’re still trembling slightly, shivering from both the fear and the cold, completely exposed, completely at his mercy. You’re still not sure who he is; maybe you’ve caught a glimpse or two of him in your classes in the past, but for the most part, he’s still a complete stranger.

Issei, on the other hand, knows you very well.

As the knife slips beneath your soft flesh, your bed quickly turns into a sea of scarlet, of vermilion and ruby, of wine-red blood that grows from a trickle to a stream to a rushing, spurting mess that stains your sheets and spills onto the floor. He can feel the spatters of your blood on his face, his clothes, can see the periphery of his vision growing red as the blank, white walls turn crimson.

He finds it’s a bit difficult to hold himself back.

Cutting you up feels like catharsis to him. He’s never seen you quite like this before, but he thinks this version of you looks very pretty, your eyes rolling back into your head, your chest shaking uncontrollably as he rips his knife through your flesh over and over again. A small, barely audible whimper slips from your lips, and he feels a shuddering mix of pleasure and revulsion wash over him.

The stark white of your bone peeks through the ripped, bloody mess. Perhaps he’s finally gone far enough.

There’s no slit or hole for him to find - he wasn’t quite so careful - but he reaches a hand in to dig around at what used to be your stomach, and begins to pull out the flowers from the roots. They’ve spread to your lungs, climbed almost all the way up your throat, the green stems and yellow flowers twisting and threading between your organs and ribs. He removes them one by one, meticulous and careful, tossing them aside as he searches and prods and kills every last trace of your disease.

The lungs are by far the hardest for him, the branches of tissue packed densely with blood vessels and capillaries, and he has to pry the clusters apart to remove the growth that’s embedded itself within the organ.

If you think about it, he’s really doing you a favor.

A wave of relief courses through him when he’s finally finished. It’s unfortunate that it had to end this way, with your face screwed permanently into that pained, tortured expression, but it’s nothing he can’t fix - he brings a bloody finger up and adjusts your features until they resemble something slightly more pleasant.

There’s no heartbeat anymore, he realizes, no rhythm thrumming and pulsing beneath your skin.

He climbs off of you awkwardly, swinging his legs back over the bed. The quilt, pooled around your ankles, is still remarkably clean considering what the rest of the room had been through, and he pulls the soft, white cover over your mangled body until it comes up to your chin.

If he moves backwards a little and squints, it’s almost like you’re still asleep.

And if he tries really hard, uses his imagination to fill in the gaps and blot out the unnecessary bits, the blood smeared on your cheeks and lips almost seems like makeup, covering up that ugly, ashen complexion from your sickness, like a rosy imitation of what he used to find so beautiful.

Maybe it’s all in his mind, but he thinks you really do look better dead than sick.

He knows it’s not right.

He knows he shouldn’t.

He also can’t quite bring himself to care.

Cursing softly under his breath, he hand wanders until it finds the growing outline of the bulge in his pants. It feels so good to do it right in front of you, especially when you look better than he’d seen you in weeks(as long as he sort of squints), and he shudders with pleasure as he palms his cock slowly.

He usually likes to hold back a little, but there’s really no point this time - it’s the last time he’ll ever be this close to you, so he might as well make the best of it, right?

His cock is rock hard and dripping with precum by now, straining with arousal against the pressure of his fist, gliding and stroking along his curved, thick length until he begins to feel that warm heat coiling in his stomach. He kind of wishes that you were still alive to see him jerking off to your perfect face, pumping his cock desperately as he fixates on the fake blush of your skin. It’s almost exactly how you look before you fell sick - minus the gore splattered on your sheets, of course - as long as he pretends that you’re still breathing, that your pulse is still thrumming steadily beneath those soft, white quilts.

He fists his cock a bit faster, rhythm increasing as he feels his balls growing heavier, his dick flushed and desperate for release. Although he’s sad that you’d never be able to fully participate, he supposes it’s for the best.

Better dead than hung up on someone else, right?

As he turns his gaze back onto the flowers he’d ripped out from your chest cavity, he feels a perverse burst of pleasure coursing through him. He can’t help but feel proud of the way he’s made everything right, how he’d gotten rid of that annoying little crush you’d been harboring for weeks. If he closes his eyes, he can almost see the way you’re thanking him from the afterlife, tears of gratitude and joy in your eyes at the freedom he’s finally given you.

Issei finishes with a low, pleasured, groan, his cum spilling into his waiting hand as he strokes himself through his orgasm. It’s one of the strongest orgasms he’s had in quite some time, and he can’t help but think it’s the commemoration you deserve.

As the blood rushing in his eardrums slows, the hazy, uncertain world around him seems to stop spinning, and he feels himself being pulled back down from his high. If he strains his senses, he can hear the nighttime din through your walls, quiet and ever-present. He looks outside, the streetlamps flickering dimly, staring off into the inky stillness of the star-lit night.

Funny that he’s finally on the other side of your window.

Maybe he should leave you one last present.

-

April 26th, 2013

[9:00 am]

When they find you in your bed the next morning, your mother screams and your father cries.

They never saw it coming, did they? You were a good girl, someone who always did what they were supposed to do, said what others told them to say, acted exactly how they expected you to. Never got yourself into the slightest hint of trouble.

It’s a horrific scene: their precious daughter, limbs mangled and organs torn up, stomach and chest cut wide open as if straight from a horror movie. The room seems to swirl with hostility, and the four walls, once your sanctuary, had turned into an image of brutal, bloody, violence - with your body as the centerpiece.

It’s not until they step closer that they realize the dried, white, glaze on your face is cum.

[rinharu-purple]

Emmm 👉👈 can i request Gavin's spring festival date analysis?! Ehem especially when Gavin said "I've waited a long time for today.." 💙

But Of course if you're not busy.. I'll wait patiently.. I just.. love read your analysis 💙 like i can feel your love and dedication for Gavin.. a lot of Gavin stan is very smart and loyal.. just like Gavin itself

Hello nonny and of course you can! Thank you for your lovely ask and reading my posts. It makes me really happy to hear this 💞 I can also double up what you've said, Our birdcop is smart and loyal and I really love being a part of Gavin-standom which includes so many talented writers, artists, analysts and it has @cheri-translates! There are so many great posts from various accounts and one can feel the love, passion and loyalty towards Gavin in all of them! 💫

An analysis on Spring Festival date is so overdue, so it is me who should apologize for not having written this before. I will more than gladly include your request scene, I hope you enjoy it ^_^

MC Testing Waters: Spring Festival Date

At the beginning of the game, MC is a young woman with lots of love in her heart, however without much experience in love. Fortunately this starts to change when she meets LIs as adults.

Spring Festival Date takes place after Firework Date and before the Romantic Date, although the timeline is quite messy, which I will come to by the end of this analysis.

If you look closely, you can see MC checking Gavin's romantic feelings towards her by using this "boyfriend game" and also uses the opportunity to get beyond his hardened exterior and touch his vulnerable side 💗

Spoilers start below this line

This date comes to, because MC lies to her aunt about having a boyfriend to avoid arranged blind dates and even promises to visit her on New Years with her boyfriend. Speculatively it seemed like a solid play, until...the time literally came.

Thinktanking about a way out of this with Kiki and Willow, they weight different options as to tell them she broke up with him, leave the city or call in sick but then the best wingman on earth Minor saves the way and suggests that she just takes a "fake boyfriend" with her, surely enough with Gavin in his mind.

MC goes through her contacts list to search for a suitable candidate, but her heart Whispers her the answer by skipping a beat as her fingertips scroll down to one name.

... Gavin

As such... MC has chosen her player for the game and Gavin's Heart Trial with MC's family commences...

---Press Start---

Creativity Test

Unluckily Gavin actually shows up for this highly important date late, with his phone off! From the storyline he arrives a couple of minutes late to MC’s aunt's place, thus starting the game one point behind. He was late because he was buying presents for the whole family! With the spot on gifts which are well received by the family because they're expensive, imported goods, limited products, cute and thoughtful he makes up for the lost points.

But it's just the first stage and he has 3 more stages to clear, the pressure is slowly rising.

This gray suit has a lovely story behind it, which you can find by the end of the story.

Decision Test

Gavin has passed the creativity test with flying colors, but in the second stage more challenging questions are on the menu. The eldest aunt wants to know Gavin's age, occupation, salary(?!) and possessions(?!). The last two questions are fairly over the line and is a no-no in my country. Asking people about their financial status as well as bragging about it is perceived as rude and insolent, that's why the way Gavin answers these questions skillfully without bragging about his wealth adds just another brick on my Gavin-temple.

Age: 24

Occupation: Police Officer

Salary: Covers the bills

Possessions: A flat in the city and a motorcycle.

In my Prank date analysis, I've mentioned about Gavin's ability to deal with impertinence and also here, he stays friendly, but only answers the questions necessary to get through with the situation. MCs family is checking whether he's wealthy enough to take care of MC (which is sad that in the 21st century that in some countries women need to be financially secured by men). So Gavin just gives them just the right enough of information to pass the test and pass he does.

There is another aspect to his way of answering though. You see, Gavin is an unmaterialistic man. He doesn't care about money or any other meta. He doesn't touch upon the fact that he's coming from a wealthy family, or that he inherits his grandparents house or that he can afford designer dresses, overseas travels or gems without giving a second thought. That shows just how humble Gavin is and I love him for it. What defines him is not his wealth, nor does he allow anyone define him on his financial status. It's his character, the values he stand for, the vision he embodies, the way he treats MC.. Ehm.. And.. His champion body and drop dead gorgeous looks (comes as an extra;))

But the game is far from over, because the family council is now going to challenge him on...

Affinity Test

This is where things get rosy as the family would like to know how they've met and whether they've been together since high school.

Look, Gavin is actually not playing a game, but living the moment. He is well aware of the fact that once he and MC become an official pair, he will be standing on the same spot a year later. He is serious...

So when they ask about their affection, he gives them his genuine answer and confesses his crush on her during high school and says that they've been going out since fall. This dazzles MC, as if she hasn't been dazzled enough lol.

The three glasses of drink he gulps surely has a role in this sincerity and taking three glasses of a drink as a punishment also becomes a tradition for MC and Gavin in the future.

And so, he proudly passes the Affinity Test with flying colors, effortlessly. Only one more stage and he's done it!

Execution Test

Every hero has his moment, when the fight takes a gloomier turn against his favor and the odds don't look good as before when he gets a strong blow, that is when the family hits him with the question "Don't you get alone well with your family?".

This is Gavin's weak spot, his cryptonite, his bleeding wound and MC's family just pressed on it. What makes this scene so heartbreaking is not just the topic itself and we know why it is a sensitive topic for Gavin but also that Gavin actually tries to signal them that this is not his favorite topic. He tells them he doesn't go home for holidays (friendly warning number 1), the aunties pushes by telling him to take some meal with him to which he replies "Thanks, but that's okay. I've been away for a long time" (friendly warning number 2) the family pushes further and as a one last resort he tells them that during college he rarely went there and spent holidays working afterwards (friendly warning number 3). Sadly the auntie than ignorantly ask whether his family doesn't worry about him and now because he's given three fair warning shots which, he downright gives them a brief and resolute answer:

- No.

That's usually the latest where people with common sense stop digging in further. Unfortunately then the auntie asks whether he doesn't get along well with his family to which Gavin no longer responds. This is the perfect way of dealing with such people and Gavin has a very intuitive talent for dealing different people from different mindsets. Give them three friendly and fair warnings, still pushing? Then give them a last chance by one final brief and to the point answer, they choose to ignore the signal? Stop interacting, you can only waste time beyond this point.

The only problem with this situation here, is that these people are not just somebody, Gavin wants to win these people over, so he cannot just ignore them. But also he cannot do it without a timeout, so he goes to grab some wine. (God it makes me so sorry everytime he has to face his family drama or is misjudged. I just wanna hug him bring him hot cocoa, give him a backrub and bring spicy food for him. Luckily he has MC ^_^)

But let's not talk only about about Gavin, because MC is struggling too. And we should recognize her stick up for him with the most cherishing words:

-Auntie, you got it wrong. He is a decent and pure man and has come to my aid many time and in quite dangerous circumstances.

When she comes back however cannot find Gavin, once she does, a heartwarming moment blooms between them.

This scene is very crucial in Gavin and MC's relationship because this is the first time MC sees Gavin tired and flustered. She feels sad for him but also happy for herself, for she feels as though she gets closer to him, thus seeing the real Gavin. By the way she show him her genuine care, Gavins heart melts and kisses the back of her hand as a gesture and so the first intimate moment involving them having a kiss ensues. Furthermore, they show each other their mutual care, which brings them one step closer and this gives Gavin the only courage he needs to tackle the situation.

When our hero gets the courage and the stamina he need from his girl, nothing can stop him now. Having gatherer his strength, Gavin returns to the dinner table:

“I am so happy to be here with you all today. In fact, I haven't felt this atmosphere of family in a long time. I have a very strict father and a brother I seldom see...I don’t even know when I turned into such a loner. Eating alone, sleeping alone, doing everything alone...until I met her. It was a beautiful autumn day. The gingko leaves were floating in the wind. I was also going through a pretty dark time. But she saved me before I hit bottom...It’s she who told me I could live a stronger life. And it’s also she who told me I could live a more tender life. I never felt lonely before, until I met her. I started to get used to star-gazing with her, having dinner with her, spending the New Year’s with her. In the future, I'll give it my all to stay with her, to take good care of her and love her. I wanna make up many times over for all the times I wasn't there”

MC’s heart stopped, aunties eyes teary, the elder Aunt want his actions to back up these words and thus Gavin has a pass from MC's family. Now that he's won the game, it's time to collect his prize.

After they leave MC's aunt's house, our lovebirds walk together in the night full of fireworks and Gavin tells Mc that Minor has mentored him on being the perfect son-in-law, hence he was late. He also asks her what she would do if he didn't show up, to which she says that her intuition says that he won't fail her and he murmurs quietly:

- I've waited a long time for today.

Of course he doesn't repeats himself when MC asks him about what he just said. But that's what kept him going all night long.

He has waited for six whole years to meet her again, to stand by here, take good care of her and love her. Tonight, he could do them all by being her "boyfriend", giving his word to her family and having their blessings. He could see that she also cares a lot for him, worries about him and wants to be there for him. He landed his lips for the first time on her delicate skin and could give her warmth.

He could finally confess his feelings for her and say the genuine things he will only say to her.

So yes, he has waited for a long time for this moment to come and when it came, he made sure to grab it tightly.

----—----—---

Timeline issues:

- The order of the dates in the game doesn't always reflect the real course of events. The grey suit that Gavin wears is actually bought after Romantic Date, which takes place after this date.

-Even though MC plans this whole game to avert blind dates, but she still gets set up later on a blind date by another aunt lol.

Thank you once again for your patience nonny and I hope that the analysis proves to be worthy of your wait 💗

Masterlist

For MC's confession let me take you here

For Gavin and MCs relationship milestones here

For a fun trivia about this date you can click here

[cooliogirl101]

i wonder if aizen twins and yukimura sibling were rougly same age and meet in inuzuri would they get along? like, hisana's just gained her nickname, aizens just got out of rings, and one of them gets hurt and hisana heals them and they stick around?? why idk but i've been thinking it for some time

Ooh that’s an interesting prompt idea. Granted, Hisana’s quite a bit younger than the siblings but assuming she was a few hundred years older and the twins were sent out to the edges of the Rukongai (which isn’t much of a stretch; the further out you go, the more lawless things become)....

It’s dark when the door opens, although that doesn’t mean much. Sayuri can sense the greasy-oil-slick feel of Matsushita’s reiatsu as he steps into their room and she wonders if he’s finally gotten sick of waiting (she knows she’s in a bad state, even by her standards, and wouldn’t be surprised if her owner has simply decided to cut his losses). 

Absently, she wonders how she’s going to go. Fire? Dismemberment? Whatever the method, he’s sure to make a spectacle out of her death-- after all, he’s a businessman. Wouldn’t do to let her go without one last profit. 

What surprises her is the reiatsu signature next to him. Clean, bright, pure, one of the brightest she’s felt-- it reminds her of spring rain, the smell of soil, the warmth of hot tea. Maybe Matsushita’s decided to give her final opponent a preview. She thinks she wouldn’t mind, if this person were to be her killer-- admittedly, her cognitive abilities are slightly impaired at the moment but she can’t sense any cruelty in their reiatsu. 

“What’s going on? Who are you?” Sousuke demands somewhere to the left of her. 

“Relax, Sousuke-kun. Neither of you are due for a fight anytime soon,” Matsushita dismisses. “This is Yukimura-san, she’s a...friend.”

“Is this her?” Yukimura speaks up and her voice is...younger than Sayuri expected. There’s something like disgust clouding her aura now and despite herself, Sayuri curls up further into herself.

“Yes, that’s Sayuri-chan. Doesn’t look like much now, but--” Matsushita sighs. “Still, she’s got quite a bit of potential and I’d hate to see that go to waste. Can you fix her?”

“I’ve fixed worse,” Yukimura replies coolly and Matsushita chuckles.

“A professional. I can admire that,” he says, and his tone turns appraising. “Almost a shame you’re so useful as a healer, or-- well, there’s no use dwelling on that, I suppose.” He claps his hands together. “Anyway, I’ve got a match to oversee, so I’ll leave you to it. You’ll get the other half of your payment if I decide I’m satisfied with your services.”

“I don’t make a habit of disappointing my clients, Matsushita-san,” Yukimura says curtly. 

“So I’ve heard. I’ll see you later then,” he says before striding away, the sensation of his reiatsu fading with him. 

“Can you really fix her?” Sousuke speaks up once Matsushita is out of earshot, his reiatsu brimming with wariness.

“Mm. The wounds, yes,” Yukimura replies, a note of gentleness in her voice that wasn’t there before. “Pardon my rudeness. Your name is Sousuke, correct? I’m Yukimura Hisana. Is that your sister over there?”

“Yeah. We’re twins. Her name is Sayuri,” he says and his aura is equal measures sullenness and concern. “She’s barely moved in days. I can’t even get her to eat.”

Yukimura walks over to where Sayuri is curled up against the wall, taking care to make sure her footsteps are audible. An unnecessary gesture, but one Sayuri appreciates, all the same. 

“Hey there. Sayuri, is it? Would you mind if I examined you?” She asks softly. At that, Sayuri blearily opens her one good eye. 

“Does it matter? What I say?” She croaks out, absently noting that Yukimura is...far younger than she’d expected. Not even in her teens yet, really. Then again, maybe it wasn’t that surprising. Matsushita always did take a liking to the younger ones.

“I won’t touch you without your permission. But more than that, I suspect your choice matters a great deal to your brother,” she says quietly. Sayuri doesn’t say anything for a long moment.

“Fine.” She’s no good to Sousuke dead, after all. 

She bites her lip as Yukimura’s hands begin glowing green. 

“You--” Sousuke startles. 

“Can use reiatsu? Yes I can. Sorry, I should have warned you first,” Yukimura apologizes, before motioning Sousuke over. “It’s nothing to be afraid of. See?” She pinches her own arm, hard enough that her nails pierce the skin. Sayuri watches as the wound repairs itself, aided by nothing more than gentle green light.

“How are you doing that?” Sousuke asks, eyes wide.

“Lots and lots of practice. The good thing about reiatsu is that its uses are limitless. It doesn’t have to hurt,” Yukimura says, looking at Sayuri intently. Despite herself, Sayuri swallows and looks away, unable to meet her gaze. 

Before she can do anything else, Sousuke thrusts his arm out in front of her. 

“Do me, do me!” He demands, lifting up his sleeve to reveal a myriad of purplish-black bruises. 

“Sousuke!” Sayuri hisses, sending him a warning glare. 

“It’s alright. I don’t mind,” she says, smiling slightly before sending Sayuri a knowing glance. “It’s sweet that he’s so protective.”

Sayuri stiffens slightly and doesn’t reply. She does make a note of the older girl’s perceptiveness though-- most people would have simply dismissed Sousuke’s demand as the selfish demand of a kid.

All in all, it takes about two hours for Yukimura to finish healing them to the point that she’s satisfied. 

“Alright, you’re good to go,” she says with a tired smile, before slumping against a wall and closing her eyes. There are beads of sweat on her forehead and Sayuri doesn’t need her sensing abilities to tell that the other girl is exhausted. 

“You shouldn’t tire yourself out like that,” Sayuri finds herself speaking up. “It’s dangerous.” Yukimura opens one eye to peek at her.

“Why? Because you both have a kill count higher than most shinigami?” She closes her eyes again, even as both Sayuri and Sousuke stiffen. “Don’t look so surprised, Matsushita told me about you two. Or I suppose ‘bragged’ would be the more correct term.”

“You aren’t scared?” Sousuke asks, studying her the same way he would a particularly interesting insect. 

“‘Killer Twins’ or no, you both seem too polite to kill someone who’s just spent the past two hours helping you,” she replies, leaning back to rest her head against the wall. 

“We aren’t the only dangerous people here,” Sayuri says quietly, studying Yukimura intently. She wasn’t lying about not being scared, which is...the only person who’s never been scared of them is Matsushita, and that was only because he saw them as possessions. Even Yamato, and their mother--

“If you’re talking about Matsushita, I’m far more useful to him alive than dead,” she dismisses.

“Yes, you are. But people don’t always act logically,” Sayuri murmurs. At that, Yukimura opens her eyes. 

“I appreciate your concern, but you don’t need to worry about me,” she says gently. At the sound of footsteps coming down the corridor, she stands up. “That’s my cue to go. I’ll save you the ordeal of Matsushita’s company and leave before he gets here.” Yukimura hesitates for a moment before adding, “It was nice meeting the two of you. Really.” 

“Will we see you again?” Sousuke asks, looking up at her. Yukimura’s smile doesn’t quite meet her eyes. 

“I’d like that,” she says. Sayuri closes her eyes again. 

Well. At least she’s honest enough not to make him a false promise. 

“Mitsuo, could I have a moment of your time?”

 “Of course,” Mitsuo replies, looking up from his book to find Hisana standing in the doorway. She’d been oddly silent all day, which never boded well for anyone. “You finally ready to talk about what’s been bothering you then?”

“You know, I’d really appreciate it if, just once, you weren’t so darn perceptive,” she huffs, rolling her eyes at him. 

“No you don’t,” he replies easily. “Now tell me what’s wrong.” 

She doesn’t say anything for a long moment. When she finally speaks up, she can’t meet his eyes. 

“I know that back when things were hard, you....you used to do things you weren’t proud of,” she says. Mitsuo purses his lips, setting down his book. 

“Hisana, what’s this about?” He asks. She looks down at her hands. 

“There is someone I’d...like to make disappear,” she says softly, almost inaudibly. “But given my reputation, it can’t be traced back to me. Can you help me with that?”

Mitsuo studies her for a moment before nodding. 

“Of course. I left that part of my life behind a long time ago, but there are a few friends I can contact. As long as it’s not a shinigami, I don’t think it’ll be a problem.” 

“He isn’t. Thank you, Mitsuo. I know you swore never to go back to that part of your life, but--”

“You’re the reason I was able to leave that part of my life behind in the first place, Hisana,” Mitsuo says gently. “You could ask me to make a thousand men disappear and I still wouldn’t refuse, even if I had to do it personally. Besides, I trust that you have a good reason for this.”

“The very best,” Hisana assures him fervently. “Although that reminds me, I have a second favor I need to ask.” Mitsuo raises his eyebrows. 

“Yes?” 

“I need you to help me convince Kazuki and Kaori to add two extremely dangerous, mildly unstable kids to our family.” 

“I....see,” he says slowly. He didn’t. Hisana was usually the biggest proponent of keeping anything dangerous far, far away from the family and in particular, Rukia. 

“Believe me, if you saw these two, you’d agree that under no circumstances should they be left alone.” 

[bonfire-at-the-crossroads]

Rutger Hauer has passed, and is on his way through the stars, toward the shoulder of Orion and the Tannhauser Gate.

He gave himself to the world of film and created characters which will continue to inspire the people lucky enough to share in the dreams he left behind.

I wrote this a couple years ago - and maybe it’s time to look at it again.

Thank you Mr Hauer for leaving this place a little brighter for your having been here.

Good journey, peace at last.....

————————————————————————————————————-

January 8, 2016

It's Roy Batty's birthday.

Ridley Scott's 1982 movie - Blade Runner - cast Rutgers Hauer as the renegade Replicant in search of his maker.

The film was a brilliant adaptation of Philip K Dick's "Do Androids Dream Of Electric Sheep?"

Roy and a small group of Nexus-6 Replicants, have stolen an off-world transport, killed the crew, and returned to earth - in an attempt to coerce their designer to extend their programmed four-year lifespan. January 8, 2016 was the day of Roy's inception, and also the day his genetic coding has scheduled him for death.

He is being hunted by Harrison Ford, as hired-gun Deckard - a Blade Runner - paid to track and kill escaped Replicants.

----------------------------------------------

In 1982 - the idea of the year 2016 was a mind-numbing distance away.

"The Future" was a place where anything was possible, and our wildest dreams would come true.

It seems like yesterday.

And yet, when I started thinking about the world I inhabited in '82, and where I've washed up on the shores of 2016 - it's been quite an extended sea voyage.

I was married to somebody else.

We walked into town to the little movie theater on Central Avenue, and as we moved to our seats, were told by the usher ( yeah, that's right - there were still ushers ) -"You shouldn't even bother with this movie. It stinks. Four people at the last show actually asked for their money back."

We loved it.

Minds were blown - and we went back two more times, bringing friends.

That Christmas Eve - I had a small stroke. I was 26.

At the time, I was more worried about how the news would affect my husband - and did not fully appreciate my own predicament. He overheard the doctor on the phone making arrangements for what was then, the only echocardiogram machine in the New York area.

"Is that about you?" He asked. I nodded.

My husband passed out cold on the waiting room floor.

I survived. Had test after test after test, and slowly got my left side back under my own control.

Time passed.

We tried for the baby - and a series of horrors led to the loss of pregnancy, and culminated with a 3:00 AM visit to the emergency room.

The husband was so upset - he left me by the hospital entrance, and drove home.

When he inevitably decided that he needed "space" and wanted to "take a break" -(clearly, his office-affair had nothing to do with this decision ) - I used the time to take a good long look at the marriage.

When he came back three months later - I was not the girl he had walked out on.

The world had changed, and so had the locks.

-------------------------------------------------

I moved into the West Village with a girlfriend. It was awkward having a roommate after having a husband, home, and mortgage - but I made it work.

An unusual boyfriend followed, and several years of actors, artists, and cabaret performers filled my days and nights.

It was Manhattan in the '80's. There were nights out spent dancing at the clubs til dawn.

The Met was open late on Friday nights, and my group of fellow oddballs wandered the museum halls every week for over a year.

Art and illustration was my livelihood. I knew everyone in the Village ( at least by sight) and was completely comfortable in my element.

But my friends got sick.

And my friends started dying.

AIDS ravaged the world.

The Village was ground zero, and everyone was terrified. We didn't know where it was coming from, didn't know how to cope with the skeletal friend, the friend covered with sarcoma blotches - was it the end of the world?

In many ways - yes. It was.

The best, brightest, most talented people on earth were dying out - and all I could do was hold hands at the bedside, and attend memorial services.

There was a three month period when I went to a service EVERY SINGLE WEEK.

My dearest friend, Bruce - I never even knew when he was well. We were fellow illustrators, and spent hours a day with phone cocked between shoulder and ear - talking while we drew in our separate studios. He was in Chelsea, I was on the corner of Perry and West Fourth.

We brought children's books to life, and loved the work.

As AIDS ravaged his body, he needed to take long naps in the afternoons. His fever would spike uncontrollably - he called it "Shake and Bakes."

He fussed over the ugly sarcoma lesions which appeared on his arms and hands - he found a theatrical makeup which he swore would cover them up so that nobody would know.

Everybody pretended that it worked.

"Well, my sweet darling angel - I took a shower this morning, and guess what? I watched all my hair go down the drain."

Some medication he was taking, combined with what may have been a chemotherapy cocktail - took every hair on his head.

He entered the shower - with.

Exited - without.

He had been told this might be a possibility, and had already purchased a wig from a professional Broadway wig-maker.

It was awful looking, but we continued to pretend.

He slipped farther away, and was hospitalized on a closed floor reserved for AIDS patients.

I visited every single day.

I brought tiny gifts, saved up stories to make him laugh - and built my day around spending time with him.

His family wouldn't come and see him. Friends did their best, but simply couldn't be with him when push had finally come down to shove.

I remember shouting at his brother on the pay phone in the hospital hallway "I can't make this better. I'm not allowed to make decisions for his care, because I'm not a family member. He is dying, and you need to be here."

He wasn't.

I held Bru's hand, and wiped his forehead. I asked the nurse to turn up his oxygen because he was struggling and begging for air. "It's as high as it will go." she said - and even though it was time for all visitors to leave, she said I could stay.

The day before, he had spent time with a priest who had given him what I now believe was last rites. He seemed comforted, and we said what needed to be said.

"You know Bru....I will ALWAYS love you."

He smiled and said. "I know. And I will always love you too."

He took his last breath a little before midnight.

I closed his eyes.

Twenty seven years have passed since that night.

-----------------------------------------------

The unusual boyfriend fell victim to his own silliness. He convinced himself that another woman was sending him messages about being attracted to him - and he needed "some space" to explore the magic.

He did.

She didn't

And I was magically single again.

As 1990 dawned - the Internet had not been invented.

The cell phone - wasn't.

Video rental stores were visited daily, and made money hand-over-fist.

Blonde, Madonna, and all that wonderful 80's music that my kids now think is divine - were the sounds of the decade.

And I didn't quite trust CD's.....

Times Square was just beginning to shed the peep shows and adult movie houses.

It was gritty, and how I loved it.

July 4th of 1990 I found myself eating in the diner downstairs from my apartment on the corner of 14th St and Seventh Avenue.

It was empty.

I ate my bluefish dinner and went back upstairs to the drawing board.

One single red rocket cleared the rooftops and the stars rained down.

I was bored.

Decided to place a personal ad in The Village Voice. "Looking for an interesting conversation over a cup of coffee....." and some other minor nonsense.

Over 350 people responded in the three days I checked the answering machine.

"I've never answered a personal ad," said the voice on the phone."I live with a grey cat. And I'm reading DUNE. Maybe you could call me, and we'll get a cup of coffee?"

On our third date, he never went back home.

"You know what? It's getting kind of silly to keep paying for an apartment to keep my cat in...."

"So what are you saying?" I asked. "Are you asking to officIally move in here?"

" Nope. Let's get married. It'll be fun. I'm not exactly getting younger - either are you. Why not?"

"It'll either work - or it won't. What's the reason that we shouldn't at least TRY?"

He talked me into it.

Brian and I were married in the Cathedral of St John the Divine, three months after our first date. Twenty five years ago, last October.

Babies happened. Three in a row. "Irish triplets" as my obstetrician called them.

Quinn.

Morgan.

Maddie.

They were (and are ) the three finest people I have ever known - and are the center of my soul.

Brian and I survived critical fulcrum points where the smallest waver would have plunged all of us into hell.

We stared death in the face - death blinked, and looked away,

more than once.

We walked away from alcoholism.

Left cigarettes behind,

Did battle with depression,

and kept walking....

We've skated on the thinnest of financial ice for YEARS.

We've worked and worked and worked some more - and it was never going to be enough to keep the ship afloat.

The kids, as we've laughed over the years have "Never missed a meal."

Nothing was easy, but our youngest will be the third to graduate from college in the Spring. Yes, there are loans to be paid - and we'll do everything we can to help them gain traction in their lives.

About a year and a half ago we took a good hard look at where the road was leading us. Our ability to maintain the income necessary to support our lives in Westchester county, in a big house with a big mortgage - huge utility bills, and a dwindling job market - we came up with a plan.

The bank was unhappy with our syncopated mortgage payment schedule - and really wanted their house back. Things were sliding downhill, and we simply couldn't stop it.

"Let's take the money from my last free-lance job, and buy a house in Ireland."

Found one.

And did.

Sold the house in Westchester.

Packed up everything we could.

Got on the plane.

And here we are.

January 8th, 2016, and it's 1982 all over again.

The Replicant is out of time.

He sits high on the rooftops above the city, rain is pouring from the black skies - and Roy Batty,- in his last moment of life - knows what it is to be fully human.

"I've seen things, you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. I watched c-beams glitter in the dark near Tannhauser gate. All those moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain."

We all go through the motions. We get out of bed every day, and do our best to keep our lives and our families moving forward.

We work.

And plan.

And strive for happiness.

I'm no Roy - but I too, have seen things that will pass away with me when I go.

I, too, have learned what it is to be fully, and completely - human.

[bellajackson200]

pocket boy, Baking edition

spring was just around the corner and i was in the mood for something. i had woken up early and i was lying there listening to the subtle ambience of traffic and bird chirps. i rolled over and cought sight of a shoebox on my nightstand. that particular shoebox held something very dear and special to me. not the fancy sandals it once held but something that money couldn't buy. in that particular shoebox was my sweet, fragile tiny pocket boy sound asleep. he had kicked off his cover during the night and his tiny shirt had pushed its way up around his neck like a scarf, exposing his tiny belly. it was raising and falling with every breath he took. he was sound asleep and i didn't want to wake the tiny boy so i gently ran small circles around his belly with my fingertip. he made a small grunt but didn't wake up.

i silently eased out of bed, put my slippers on and went into the kitchen. i had some breakfast and coffee while contemplating my day.

BREAD! i felt like baking a bread. i'd gotten a recipe a long time ago from a friend but never got to try it. today was as good a day as any other to do so. i had to go shopping for the things i needed so i went back to the bedroom to get dressed.

i snuck in quietly but my efford to be stealthy was in vain. the little boy was sitting up in his tiny bed, rubbing his eyes free from sleep. blinking up at me with messy hair, smiling and reaching his arms high, gesturing for me to pick him up.

i put my hand down next to the box. he climbed over the edge, lost his footing on his way down and landed on my fingertip, poking into his tiny belly. he let out a little groan and curled up in my hand rubbing the sore area on his belly. i liftet my hand up so i could blow on his tiny sore belly. it created and undercurrent that made his messy hair twirl in all directions. he started laughing out loud and rolled onto his back. his little belly had a red mark where my finger had bumped it. i gently touched it. he grimaced and looked up at me with an about-to-cry face so i gently blew on his messy hair making him laugh again.

i carried him to the bathroom, put him in the sink where he pulled down his tiny pants and peed down the drain. same procedure for #2.

my morning rutine and pretty much my anything rutine had totally changed having a little guy to care for. i had to consider him in every plan i was making and how to make it convinient for the both of us, but most importantly. his wellbeing.

i took him to the kitchen and fed him a few breadcrumbs, a tiny amount of mild cheese and some water in a thimble i'd found in a drawer along with an old unused sewing kit. i'd never encountered a tiny person before. heard of them but never seen one so food and such was really a hit or miss. trial and error scenario. even though they look like us they don't have the same tolerance to certain foods as we do. some foods can make them quite sick as their tiny systems aren't equipped to handle it.

we have learned this the hard way unfortunatly. there's just no manual for this. no google search. poor little fragile boy. so many nights spent being sick. so many belly rubs, squirming in pain on my chest curled up around my thumb, whimpering, moaning, crying.

i have a list of no-go foods. i've been thinking of writing a blog about this." How To Care For Tiny People" . just in case someone else is fortunate enough to be given that opportunity.

as the tiny cutie was done eating i picked him up and put him in my chestpocket on my denim jacket, walked outside, jumped on my bike and set off for the store.

head out and hands tightly holding onto the edge of the pocket, the tiny boy was enjoying the ride and the wind in his face. we'd done this many times before and it seemed to be one of his favourite activities.

we arrived at the store and went in. i started looking for ingredients for my bread. the boy was just hanging out in my pocket, peeking out ever so slightly. he seemed to be scared of people so i wonder if someone had hurt him at some point. om my way to the flour i passed a freezer with my fav ice cream. i slid the freezer door aside, bent down and grabbed the ice cream. i slid the door shut and continued toward the flour.

after making my round in the store, getting all the stuff i needed i went to check out. where's the boy!!!! i panicked. i excused myself and dropped the basket. i half ran, backtracking my route through the store. no luck. i was freaking out so much and i didn't care if people were staring. i threw myself on the floor looking underneath various shelves. still no luck. i froze. my heart nearly stopped. i RAN to the freezer, ripped open the door. there was my boy. he was SO cold, curled up, shivering. i scooped him up, closed my hands around him and blew warm air into the little shelter.

he started moving a bit. his tiny fingers and toes were so red and his lips were so blue. he opened his eyes and looked at me with a tired expression. i kept blowing warm air into my hands for a while until he regained his natural color and perked up. with the tiny boy safely back in my pocket i went to check out where my basket was patiently waiting. i paid and we went home. the tiny boy was curled up in my pocket all the way home. that experience really affected him. poor little thing. i had to come up with a way to make a little pocket harness he could climb into. i'm not the most creative person but i had to make this happen for him. no more risks!

finally home. i put the tiny boy on the kitchen counter, took off my jacket and unpacked the groceries. i arranged the recipe in a convinient way and started putting a dough together.

i left the kitchen for a short period to start some laundry. as i came back i found the boy chewing on a piece of dough. he'd been eating a big chunk. i looked at him and shook my head and he spat out what was in his tiny mouth. he looked at me as if i was about to scold him but how could i. the poor thing was probably just hungry. i patted his little head, hoping he wouldn't get sick from the raw dough. he lit up and played around the flour. it made him sneeze and giggle.

while the bread was baking i sat down on the couch with the boy and my tablet. he was sitting on the pillow next to me picking at his tiny toes making sure they were OK after the freezer incident. suddenly he hunched over with a little grunt. he put a hand to his tummy while looking up at me as if the sudden cramp had surprised him and was looking to me for an answer. i shrugged my shoulders, patted his head and he continued inspecting his tiny toes.

the next cramp had him doubling over, clutching his tiny tummy tightly. with a whimpering moan he fell on his side where he lay breathing fast through his nose. he turned his little head and looked at me with a startled and pained expression.

i knew what this was. this was most likely caused by the yeast in the raw dough and if that was the case the little guy was in for a rough ride.

i picked up the tiny ball of hurt, put him on my chest close to my ear so i could listen to his tiny rumbly belly as i layed down on the couch. his belly was rumbling so loud i didn't have to have him this close to my ear. i gently scooted him further down on my chest so i could observe him and better help him out with tummy rubs and comfort. i peeled off his little shirt to see the damage. his tiny belly looked so bloated already. all that yeast was swelling inside his stomach leaving him with an excruciating pain. i rolled him onto his back and gently rubbed his swollen belly with my finger but he whimpered and pushed away my finger. even the slightest touch to his bloated belly was painful.

all that yeast filled raw dough made his poor tummy expand so much, making it hard and tight to the touch. it was rumbling and growling so loudly and so painfully. it made the poor sickly boy scream and cry out loud. he tried to clutch his aching belly but his arms could barely reach around it. his poor belly was hurting him so much. he rolled over on the side which caused a giant loud growl. he screamed out in pain. i picked him up and cuddled him into my neck where he would lay sobbing, squirming with his painfully bloated belly.

there was a little pool of his tears forming between my collarbones. i picked him up, rolled over on my side and gently placed him on the pillow next to my head so i could look at him. the poor tiny sick boy looked at me with wet eyes and grimaced. he was on his side with both hands on his hard belly, still not able to reach around it. i was petting his messy hair and his little cheek.

he stuck his little tongue out, grimaced and let out a tiny belch. he shook his head and crinkled his nose as if the taste was foul. he shut his eyes tightly and let out a moan. his tiny tummy was still causing him so much pain. i gently poked it to assess the damage. it was still hard, like a recently inflated beachball. he looked at me with a pathetic sickly expression.

a deep, long, loud growl sent a little bit of sick up in his thoat. he grimaced and held a hand to his mouth while swallowing back the sick. he removed his hand and placed it back on his swollen belly. another loud growl sounded. once again his little tongue came out for a belch but instead he was chugging up sticky undigested doughy vomit. it came up in chunks and it was hurting his little thoat so much and his swollen contracting belly was growling and gurgling so loud with every chug.

this was so painful and i felt so bad for the poor little sickly boy. i picked him up, still chugging, and brought him to the bathroom. i remember that i had made a bread a few years ago that collapsed while baking. i remember finding the cause in a google search. too much heat. this gave me an idea. i peeled his soiled clothing off, filled the sink with nice warm water and gently lowered my hand with the poor boy into the warm liquid.

the motion made him jerk a little but he seemed to calm down a bit. he was still clutching his tight extended belly but seemed to relax more and more. little growls from his belly created tiny ripples on the water surface. a little gas bubble from his bottom ran down my finger.

the little boy was completely relaxed now. just laying in my hand in the warm water. his little arms could reach around his belly again and when i gently pushed on it with my finger it felt softer and squishy and he didn't flinch.

the poor boy must be so tired and exhausted. he's little body can only take so much strain. i lifted him out, wet and half a sleep. i threw his dirty clothes in the sink for later washing. i gently dried the cutie off and carried him to his bed. i tucked him in and he rolled over and fell a sleep.

note to self : keep raw dough away from tiny boy.

[meowsaidmayaanime]

Anime I've Dropped

Its just as important to talk about the anime I dropped as it is to talk about the anime I've watched through to the end. I will drop an anime for a variety of reasons, not necessarily because I don't like it. It's also good to have this list so I know what I need to finish watching.

-Nisekoi (November, ep 12)

Its not bad, and if I was younger I would probably watch it in its entirety. I just find myself getting more and more tired of the romance comedy where crazy ridiculous things are thrown in to progress the story and add 'complexity'. It is funny, but I don't like many of the female characters (and its a harem show) and I'm starting to doubt things will ever get resolved and that the main male will never get together with the only sensible real female character that I like. Maybe if I find out more about what direction it goes in I'll continue watching. But as it stands I spent the last 3 episodes skipping scenes to get to the stuff I actually care about. And when that happens on a show the first time yousee it, its a good indicator that you should stop watching.

-ON HOLD Mushishi (October, ep)

I actually really like this anime so far, but because its so intense and dark, its not something that I can binge as easily as the vaste majority of my other anime. You kind of have to be in the mood to watch it? Anyway, I intend to keep watching it but it wil be a few episodes every once in a while. I'll keep you updated on when I'm actually finished

-New Game (September, ep 3)

It's not bad, and in fact it something I normally would watch and enjoy. Right before watching these two episodes I completed Shirobako which is an amazing and realistic 'natural' anime about anime production. However this one so far, rather than being about what its like to work in the game industry, is a very moe anime about the characters alone. I feel as though the characters could be put in any other job, and it would not affect the anime at all. Some words and job titles would be changed, but not the 'meat' of the content. It's still cute, and I plan to pick it up again to see what ends up happening. Just, it wasn't a good one to start with right after watching an anime on the same topic but be so different, haha.

-Ben-To (July, ep 2)

Wow, this sure was... something. The premise was amusing, but through the first episode I kept finding myself asking when it would be over, and when something would actually happen. Immediately I realized this was going to fall into a harem trope, with types of characters I find off-putting. I didn't get far, so I can't say much else about it. I lost interest, real fast.

-Ann-Happy (June, ep 10)

This show is just moe upon moe. Its a slice of life following five incredibly unlucky girls as they attend high school. If fact they are so unlucky that the highschool has a designated "happiness class" for about 30 or so unlucky students, where in addition to taking regular classes, they take special classes in order to make the students less unlucky and be able to find happiness despite their luck. Its very cute, and I watched most of it, however I was mostly watching it with my friend, and since we are so behind on our anime we decided to finish all the spring simulcasts on our own so we can get started with a couple summer ones. It's not a bad anime, just too much moe, and no real plot.

-The Lost Village (June, ep 9)

The lost village starts off following a bus load of people who want to leave their current lives and start anew in a mysterious isolated village where no one from the modern society can find them. It's an interesting anime apart of the horror genre the first episode seemed really good, but it gets tiring quickly. Especially since every single episode after the first seems to end on incredibly enormous cliff hangers. Its hard to pin point why it was disappointing as the episodes went on, perhaps its because so much happens in every episode, or the majority of the characters are not very likable, or the fact that every single character has a hard/traumatizing back story, and there are 37 characters! Not to mention that they tend to gang up on each other, do crazy things and occasionally follow the mob mentality.

In the end I lost interest and stopped watching it, maybe I'll finish the episodes in the future? Probably not though. It just got very tiresome and I'm sick of the forced tension caused by the endless cliffhangers...

-Tonkatsu DJ Agetaro (June, ep 7?)

In reality I was only watching this because one of my friends liked it. I personally am not a friend, so she watched on her own rather than together with our other simulcasts. It's an interesting story, and has its moments. I can see why she likes it, it's pretty well done, just not my thing. I won't finish watching it.

-Joker Game (June, ep 8)

Its a well done series, but because I was watching it as a simulcast and because by episode 8, almost every episode worked as a stand alone. So because of that, I wasn't highly anticipating the next episode at the end of every week. I do intend to continue watching this. especially now that all the spring simulcasts I've been watching are over. Though it may be a while until I continue it again.

-And You Thought There Is Never A Girl Online (June, ep 6 or 7?)

Like Konosuba, this is another boob fest, but with significantly more fan service. I like the Ecchi anime's but not as big of a fan when it comes to fan service. Too many female characters surrounding one singular boy. I don't like the main female character either. So yeah. Not going to continue watching.

-Durarara (June, ep 5) *NO LONGER DROPPED, SEE ADDENDUM*

This show is actually kind of interesting. I do want to watch more of it, especially considering that it's relatively popular. I only dropped it because it wasn't as gripping as some other anime's that I was watching at the same time. So if fell off my radar because of it. It runs at a slower pace, and I wanted to know more about the main male character the anime opens up with. Maybe its also because they introduced too many characters with too little information on who they are that I lost a little interest. Any matter, I want to continue watching it and give it another try. I'm not not sure when... ADDENDUM (August): I came back to Durarara and I love it! I finished the first season and am watching the second season part 3 and oh man so much is going down. I talked about season one HERE.

-Konosuba: Gods Blessing on this wonderful world (May, ep 5)

I enjoyed watching the first few episodes, and I thought it was going to be a fun anime, but instead it turned into a HUGE boob fest. One male character surrounded by questionable female characters. Not to mention two of which were rather annoying. It just felt so tried and stereotypical. It was funny, and the main two characters have a fun dynamic. Honestly if there were more male characters and if the extra added female ones were more likable I would have continued watching it. But sadly, I'd have to say that I'm no longer interested and probably wont continue watching.

-Is the Order a Rabbit (May, ep 3)

It's not a bad anime by any means, Its just too much of a slice of life. There isn't any real plot, even withing the episodes and its slow paced. I tend to like slice of life, for example The Daily Lives of High School Boys is slice of life and has no plot either, but what makes it so enjoyable was that it was more so a comedy than a slice of life. This anime however seems to be only slice of life with no other genre... It's not bad, just not my type of anime. I probably won't be coming back to it.