~~ip. ``give."....

so this is my open letter to everyone who read the last chapter of irresistible poison and thought that their love was still in doubt, or doomed, or what have you. i believe.

( i'm sure you're all on the edge of your seats, so... this'll do for spoiler space. )

EDIT: this is so weird. i keep having this insiduous vision of draco today (the next morning), on one knee, refusing to leave my mind. ack. will post my visualization (picture) later today.

~~i concede [that i've got a ways to go]

i drew him. my first try at draco conceding (ip). um. here. if it looks nothing like draco (*cries*) um. tell me.

~~
*cries* i've forgotten how beautiful pingviini's writing was. so i'm reading `warm spell on a cold night' and i'm melting. dragonweed was, i think, one of the first five hp stories i'd read. i adored it. it's so... beautiful and melancholy and joyous and ...perfect. guh.

``It is so cold, my laugh has a fragile jingling edge to it, like the sound when you crush the first, thin, clear ice on a puddle in the morning after a frosty night."
it's funny because, i'm always afraid of winter, with its cold & discomfort and of pain. but it always seduces me with its beauty.

so many of you-- are so beautiful-- i could just, die happy.
her writing tastes so... cool and sparkly and crackles in my mouth like some sort of rock candy with sour, fresh strawberry flavor hidden inside.

``My name on his lips makes me shake. Words. Touch. Sometimes there is no difference."
gah. i'm over-emotional right now, i guess.

~~
*dies* omg. i've just figured it out...!

draco/ginny shippers are all really eleven-year-old girls...!

this explains everything!
see, now i don't have to be squicked or scared of them, because really, they're just going, "omg...! draco is soooo justin...! like, oh, my, gahd, do you see that hair??! *bounces* i bet he's a wicked kisser."
yes. that explains everything. this pic from the shippers' site makes him look like hayama from kodomo no omocha..! i see it now. hayama=draco and sana=ginny...!! although, hold up, this proves he's actually yuu from `marmalade boy', making ginny miki. ginny is miki..! *dies* so true. oh wait, i actually like miki >_<;;
    should i enjoy the fact that they're all so horribly bad? um. i wasn't this ...barbie-like when i was 12, was i? guh. it's hard to remember, but i think i had read too many classics & stuff by then. guh. this 'on one knee' image is giving me flashes of 12-year-old!reena. not good. i have nothing in common with these people, just. nothing. ugh.

like, oh my gahd, they are like, so kewt together, and i bet ginny will make the other gurls jealous, and i bet harry will just DIE of jealousy too because he'll realize how kewt she is, but it'll be too late...! *feels dirty. cries.*

omg. huge revelation. *goggles*

i can't believe i never realized this before. no, really.
the quote on the yahoo group's page still scares me (from draco sinister, apparently. draco saying, `ginny malfoy. i like the sound of that.' *winces* i'll read it. but it'll kill me, i know it will.)

~~love is a black eye, and other brilliant deductions

( so. um.... i had to get the last dredges of ip mopeyness and lovers-lost angst and sadness out of my system. read at your own boredom :P )

and then, i was ok, because silviakundera wrote the most adorable snippet of marcus/oliver i've ever seen (and admittedly i've seen v. v. few), and dark_soul_lost wrote yet more sweetness and so i'm all glowy, and "awwww" and "yeay" right now.

ahhhh, it's good to be a sentimental sap *grins*
and ...and.... and...
vanityfair says chapter 12 is up, so, so...
*grins wider* yummy. yummy "meant-to-be" h/d goodness! yeay...! *dances* feeling like i loff you all. heh~:)

i was actually going to write about um. my own limitations, with writing.
it seems even though my abilities let me, there are some things i can't see myself doing.
like. i'm halfway intrigued by the story i've seen (forgot the initial source already) linked to, in the news, about the guy in australia or wherever that got into an argument with his wife/gf and in his drunken state ran after her, outside, and cut off first his finger, then his balls, then his dick. erm. i don't know -why- this is Big News (although, as the whole bobbitt thing shows ya, nothing people like more than offed penii, i guess). they've rescued the appendages and put them in ice, if you're worried.

anyway. for some reason i can see myself writing a story, using that as plot.
except... i can't. i just-- can't. i so don't want to go there. yet i think it'd be good, that i can do it.

it bothers me that there's things i don't want to touch. even though i'm fine -hearing- about them, and i have no problem seeing documentaries and news reports and am actually fascinated by criminal investigation shows and messed-up-murderer shows, etc.... and it'd be a whole new direction for me--

i just ...
why would i want to? on the one hand, it'd be fun doing something so different, and letting my imagination play with it.
on the other hand, i find it utterly distasteful, and don't know that i have anything in particular to "say", except that i'll probably say it nicely or whatever.
i actually wrote one (count 'em, one) really messed-up, dark story in my life. ha, and in the end, the person being messed-up got to be reborn. *laughs* yeah it was like, supposed to be this baby still in the womb, and i had the idea that you remembered your past lives clearly, before you're born, and in fact relive them. but that was just a small plot-device, the point was, this female baby was a male pedophile and rapist before, and i just kinda went into several detailed scenes from different points in "his" life, talking about him abusing and him being abused, very graphically (for me back then, anyway. i was what, 15?) it was my favorite story for a long time, but i never showed it to many people, and for a long time, didn't show it to anyone. finally showed it to my mom (yes my mom is more pervy/as pervy as me, trust me.) well, no big reaction.

but that was it. usually i'll see something in the news-- or hear about something in "real life", and that's the only way i get to writing "gritty", dark stories.
every single time. i once wrote a poem using a news story about this boy who'd hung himself with an amplifier cord, his parents downstairs, marilyn manson on repeat. that was back in the "manson is satan" craze. and then there was the poem i wrote about the desolation and emptiness in post-reunification east berlin, which was just-- ghost-town city back in '95. ``fuck off", the graffiti on the town-hall building said, and like. that really struck me, back then. i was so sheltered >_<;; i once began a story wanting to write about nyc homeless people's squats, in the Village. and that rapist story, from hearing someone i knew talk about being abused.

weird. the parts of me i try not to access. so it's weird to me, people willingly drowning themselves in this darkness. i mean, what's it like, writing that all the time? i'd be slitting my wrists like, two months in. because if i start-- i'd get graphic. death, pain, blood, cold, homelessness, abuse, murder-- they aren't pretty. they aren't romantic. they aren't all that beautiful. they pretty much suck.

anyway. y'all know my feelings 'bout that by now. so yeah.
thankies and huggles once again to all the soft fuzzy love-is-a-black-eye-and-i-like-it-babay, people. aww. you rock.