You know what? I hate html.I wish I was doing almost anything else.Like getting laid. I could be having sex right now, but noooo.I watched Utena lose her virginity again this weekend.That scene is so hot.The fine line between obsession and madness is... what was I saying?GIRL ON GIRL ACTION!!!I want that outfit. I like red and black. What a surprise.This layout took forever to get just right. But that was because I took so many breaks.I never ate glue in kindergarten. Hard to tell, huh?Gio keeps talking about food. What a bitch.LEGS.See, I'm being productive. Now if only I could do this at work, where productive is just a dream...GODDAMMIT STOP TALKING ABOUT FOODYou know, those are the only important things in life. Food, sex, and sleep.Everything else is just window dressing.I have to clean my house still. That sucks.I hate cleaning. I should buy maids.I want to go to a museum, but I don't want to get out of my jammies.I suck at being energetic.Funny, you don't look Druish.


Nighttime Promises


Sometimes she wondered what it might feel like. Were her lips as soft and sweet as the roses? The flowers blossomed underneath her, silent and accepting. Their embrace was warm. In those moments of wordless communion between herself and the roses, she could almost feel that otherworld beckoning to her. She imagined being in the earth, buried beneath layers of soil. Confined comfortably within a coffin, the womb of death. True death. True silence. So sweet, those thoughts of abruptly ending the cycle. Sweeter even, perhaps, than Utena's lips.

Would she taste the blood of the heroine coursing beneath her flesh? What was it like? Purity and innocence, the exquisite flavor of the privileged princess. She imagined the veins pulsing in intricate detail, pumping her essence throughout that lovely and untainted form. The nerves in her brain, peeled away and stretched out so that she could observe every golden detail, feel the moisture dampening her hands and observe the weight of the precious innards. Try to discern what exactly was about the girl that everyone seemed to desire.

Desire. What a foreign and unwelcome invasion it was. It was strange - how even the foul corruption of her brother's touch could only serve to make Utena appealingly womanly, rather than tarnished and decayed. She had remembered (a shard of a portrait long ago) those first kisses that she had stole from her sleeping brother's mouth. The intoxication of knowing she had done something wrong. Oh, and how she had made him come alive. Taste the shadows as deep and heady as the fine wine he now so enjoyed. He blossomed beneath her with as much ease and beauty as the perfect picks of her garden.

But now every brush from his elegant digits felt like a brand. His mouth tasted of sulfur mixed with the juices of women, men, angels, and demons. How often had she accepted him inside herself, into that dark abyss that had long detached itself from her rotting soul? There was no real sense of time here. It might as well been an eternity. Even when she was with Utena, far away from his gaze, she could still feel him in her crevice. Violating her with precise clockwork passion. Anthy was certain he still felt pleasure - it was his rock, after all, the only sensation that kept his ageless body from falling to disuse. But as for, she felt little anymore. It no longer hurt, at least. Sometimes, she would try to pull something deep within her brother into herself when he reached his satisfaction, but it always failed. It was just a ritual now.

But maybe. Maybe.

Utena was asleep beside her, her pristine form laid out upon the bed in the manner of a wholly innocent child. Her lustrous strands framed her restful face, nearly angelic in its unassuming trust of the world. True, she had matured in her time at the Academy. But she was not undiminished. Anthy slid from her bed and stepped around to touch her hair, running the softness through her slender fingers.

Her caress ran down along the smooth expanse of Utena's forehead, across her cheeks and along her lips. The girl stirred a little beneath her, but she would not wake. Not unless Anthy desired it. Her touch explored the body that of her friend's (what a cruel word) but strayed from the swell of her breasts or between her legs. That belonged to Akio. The breath that was pushed past her lungs, the beating of that unstained heart.they were hers.

They were hers.

Her hand found its way to the princess's throat. Gently, she pressed in, feeling the swell as air was sucked into Utena's beautiful body and the quiet release. What power Anthy held in these private moments. Akio and his pets toiled by the daytime, their offenses as sharp and cruel as the swords they wielded. The green one (oh yes, Saionji) made the blood rise beneath her skin as he made her suffer in his petty little ways. Touga had fondled her body, though stopped when after she had carefully decided to breathe the slightest hint of a "U" sound (there had only been tension after that). Theirs were the weapons of princes, gleaming beneath an unforgiving sun. Hers was the skill of poison, of nighttime sabotages, and that she knew very well.

"What a sweet girl," she whispered. Were those her words? Was she speaking at all? "So beautiful and so fortunate. A princess who knows only adoration from even the coldest of hearts." She could see that inner light emanating from Tenjou, and it scalded her grip. Slowly, carefully, she applied more pressure. In one swift action, she could kill this girl. This unwanted intruder into Anthy's innermost sanctum, this rival, this savior, this friend. With one swift squeeze, she could end Utena's life in the height of her beauty and strength. Preserve her memory forever as the female prince and the jewel of Ohtori.

"Don't you know, my prince?" Both sorrow and bloodlust were rich in her quiet tone. "I will kill you in the end. Your body will join those of your predecessors, all whose blood I spilled. My sweet friend, my only love. I will kill you at the very end." With a touch as faint as the brush of a butterfly wing, her lips met Utena's. Then, she withdrew, and the macabre fascination ended.

She scratched Chu-Chu's forehead affectionately and climbed into bed. Outside, the first mild rays of sunlight were illuminating her brother's playground. But in here, under the scope of the beautifully illustrated stars, it was always the nighttime fantasy. In which blood joined blood and princesses became whores. Their realm of poison and secrets, of cloaked daggers and toxic promises. And this it would remain forever and ever.

Until the apocalypse. Until the end of the world.