September 3rd, 2001

(I've tried patience)

Good morning, world!

Yes...we're upbeat today...mainly because we know we're not going to be in the same house as dad for much of the day, and also, of course, because we know something Rebecca doesn't actually *know*, even if she suspects.
Tee hee.
Although given that we've just told her we fell for her brother, we don't know how happy she's going to be with us. (Yes, he's a sight younger than us. When did that ever stop anyone?)
~Ahem.~

Spent last night as varying Harry Potter characters, the height of weirdness being when Harry got shipped over to the Malfoys' house as a birthday present for Draco from Dumbledore - no, I wasn't even dreaming, this is out of my head- and Lucius was about to blast him and Draco came downstairs in a kimono, for god's sake, and stopped his father from hurting Harry, and told his father that he wanted a go at Harry first, so his father went all "Ahahaha, you're becoming a good son, ahahaha" and let him go.
And then Harry told Draco that Dumbledore'd sent him but he didn't know why, and then Dumbledore appeared out of thin air and said that Harry was a present to Draco because Draco was lonely, and then vanished again. And Harry looked at Draco with a simply *wonderful* expression of "yeah, right" on his face, and Draco blushed and admitted that he *was* lonely, and that just before Harry had turned up and caused a commotion in the front hall, he'd been crying.
Now, excuse me, but if this was a story I was beta-ing, I'd have OOC alarm bells going off in my head. But anyway.
Harry asked him why he had been crying, and Draco turned round and shrugged the kimono off his shoulders, revealing several red stripes that could only have been caused by a whip - and fairly recently, too.
And then it got even weirder as Draco said "Actually, even wearing this silk over them is hurting them - do you mind if I lose the robe?" and Harry said "Sure, this evening could hardly get any weirder, could it?" and Draco said "wait til you see the boxer shorts", lost the robe and revealed black silk boxers with little Golden Snitches printed all over them.

It was at about this point that I switched back to Sirius.

ANYway, that was that, and it was all weird. But it made me giggle.

By the way, if anyone's looking for a way into HP slash but doesn't know who to start with, it's a very good idea to start with Aileitheya, or Ailei for short. I'm not sure if her stuff is actually archived anywhere except on HPslash, but it is brilliant without exception. Wish I knew how to contact her.

I don't really have anything more to say...so I'm going to go and try to phone asrana in a minute.

Oh, and...Lestat? You are the weakest link - Goodbye.

E.
x
  • Current Music
    Still 'Acrylic Afternoons'.
(I've tried patience)

Darn.

This was going to be an entry on Fred & George.

Then I realised there are some people here I don't want to shock.

So, consider it said, go read Ailei's fic "Need", and...um...yeah.

Darn.

E.
x
  • Current Music
    'There She Goes', The La's. Gah.
(I've tried patience)

Oh yeah *and*...(sorry, I forgot)

Thanks, asrana!

i see: my computer screen with rainbow stars on the corners, a photo of my mum, the back of my Smash Hits 1985 annual.
i need: a drink and to talk to asrana.
i find: myself less and less able to be in the same room as my dad without fighting with him.
i want: Draco and Harry to get together in the last book of the series.
i have: cuddly beanie puppies named after writers and poets!
i wish: I was interested in something else.
i love: being able to be other people.
i hate: my father. Love him too, but definitely hate him.
i miss: school, asrana, the years when my parents loved me, Ritchie.
i fear: that I have been online for too long this morning.
i feel: okay.
i hear: computer noise and Joe Jackson in my head.
i smell: my room.
i crave: coke! And a phonecall.
i search: using Altavista - at least I *did*, but they're not there any more! Dammit.
i wonder: why asrana answered this one with what is almost a Radiohead song. I also wonder what exactly John wants his tattoo to signify.
i regret: saying the words again.

when was the last time you....
smiled? A couple of minutes ago.
laughed? Watching Izzard this morning. "Have you heard, on the stock market? Rock's gone up three points! No, it hasn't, has it, 'cause it's fucking rock!"
cried? Yesterday.
bought something? Saturday afternoon. Pretty necklace, bracelet, tinkly earrings (still looking for those acorn ones though), Vampire : The Masquerade and a choose-your-own-adventure book. Tee hee.
danced? Yesterday, but I'm going to go and do it again in a minute.
were sarcastic? This morning, about the Bitca from Hell, otherwise known as the head of ICT at school.
kissed someone? Mum, last night. Apart from that...uh...*real*, like *serious* kiss? 20th May, wasn't it?
talked to an ex? Day we got back from Disneyworld.
watched your favourite movie? Not sure what it is at the moment.
had a nightmare? Can't remember - not because it wasn't recent, I just can't.

a last time for everything....
last book you read: :-O Same one as asrana! ROFL
last movie you saw: Hedwig And The Angry Inch, oh yes.
last song you heard: ~thinks~ "Take Me Home", Sophie Ellis-Bextor.
last thing you had to drink: Ribena.
last time you showered:This morning.
last thing you ate: Chocolate. ~s~

do you....
smoke? No.
do drugs? No.
have sex? No, although I think "Do you have sex?" is a pretty weirdly phrased question anyway.
sleep with stuffed animals? Not at the moment - J&N are elsewhere.
live in the moment? "Luke, Luke, the force is really quite strong with you." "Is it? Well, who told you that?" "Uh...some bloke." "Oh. How strong, exactly?" "As strong as a small pony." My other answer, which makes slightly more sense, is - yes, if the moment's some time in 1981.
have a boyfriend/girlfriend? No?
have a dream that keeps coming back? No.
play an instrument? Voice and piano to a certain extent.
believe there is life on other planets? Not sure.
remeber your first love? Oh, yes.
still love him/her? If it was Owen Mellor, no. If it was Jamie Wakefield, yes.
read the newspaper? Rarely.
have any gay or lesbian friends? Several.
believe in miracles? Not really.
believe it's possible to remain faithful forever? No.
consider yourself tolerant of others? Given that I once said "I don't speak to stupid people", probably not. ~g~
consider love a mistake? No.
like the taste of alcohol? No, or I'd drink it.
have a favourite candy? Lindor!
believe in astrology? Only for navigation.
believe in magic? Yes.
believe in God? No.
pray? Very rarely.
go to church? Not if I can help it, I hate churches.
have any secrets? A few.
have any pets? Cuddly poet puppies!
do well in school? Sort of.
go to or plan to go to college? Fuck knows, at the moment, and he ain't tellin'.
have a major? ~falls off chair laughing~ Does Geoff count? He was a Major....~helpless giggles~
talk to strangers who instant message you? Sometimes, though I wish I could stop them.
wear hats? Occasionally.
have any piercings? One in each ear.
have any tattoos? No. (John, what *is* it all about?)
hate yourself? Sometimes.
have an obsession? Several.
have a secret crush? Uhm...I don't think I actually have a crush on anyone who doesn't know that I have a crush on them....oh. Except Adam. Oh, and Ashlin! ~blush~ The more I think about her, the more I really, really want to take her out for romantic candlelit dinners on floating restaurants and stuff. Which is really weird, 'cause she's a tomboy who likes basketball. *Oh* well - ho hum.
collect anything? Records, postcards, useless music knowledge.
have a best friend? Not as such.
wish on stars? Sometimes, even though I know it doesn't work.
like your handwriting? Yes.
have any bad habits? Yes!
care about looks? I don't know many people who really don't.
boy/girlfriend's looks? Eh?
believe in witches? Yes! (Or Hermione'd hex me.)
believe in Satan? Met him. Decent bloke.
believe in ghosts? Yes.

E.
x
  • Current Music
    'Smooth Criminal', Michael Jackson
(I've tried patience)

Amazing what you find...

~bounce bounce bounce~ I just found a Bros jigsaw from 1988 that's never been opened! For £1!!! YAY!

Also today :
Depeche Mode - Some Great Reward
Now That's What I Call Music! 8 & 9
David Bowie - Space Oddity (75 reissue)


And a gold cat that's going to look perfect in my purple room.

My CD rack is up! I'm going to go fill it!

E.
x
  • Current Music
    'The Meaning Of Love', Depeche Mode
(I've tried patience)

Well, an interesting end to today...

...it's not every night your parents tell you you're perverted, now is it? (Well, maybe it is for some of you. I wouldn't know. ~s~) So now I'm not only labelled perverted by some random guy (Mr. Noxious, or whatever his name was,) but by my own parents as well!

Heigh ho.

Also...I'm...uh...torn. ~sigh~ 'Cause...there's...him. And then...there's...him. And even though I haven't got a chance with either of them, to be honest (I'm respectively competing with a receptionist and some margerine - yes, really) I'm still sort of agonising over which one I feel more for, which of them the feelings are more 'real' about...I don't know.

On the bright side, I have a gold cat, which improves matters no end.

E.
x

Oh, outspan! I've got to do more recording with Mr. I-know-the-history-of-China-and-you-know-what-I-learned-it-cause-I-was-genuinely-interested tomorrow.

~sigh~ Wish Rebecca would call...
  • Current Music
    'Hounds Of Love', Kate Bush - don't ask me why.
(I've tried patience)

Eep. Sorry. Much eepness coming up, I fear.

...read something that made me think. This is *not* Lestat-type "blood", this is just...someone wrote a story about Draco cutting himself, and they wrote it really badly, and I wanted to see if I could improve. Probably can't, but I did want to disclaim it being one of those vampires-in-ecstasy trips. Anyway. Rated I-wouldn't-if-I-were-you for disturbing themes.

***********

He bled, and the blood was acid, but it was red. He had half expected it to be clear; he felt so white, so drained, as if nothing bright or coloured could ever come from him. But it was red, and it spilled over his skin, welling up like the tears he couldn't cry and trickling down the sides of his arm, far, far too slowly.
Now that he knew what it felt like, to slice slowly and deliberately into one's skin, he was glad he hadn't tried to cut an artery. Once he'd thought it would be easier if the blood gushed out of him all in one go, but just this little teasing gash was making him feel faint. For a moment he had a vision of fountains of blood staining the walls of the room. No.
He didn't want to die, he had that very clear in his mind. And it wasn't that he wanted a way to let sadness or loneliness out. But the space inside him, the huge, terrifying, hollow nothing where he knew something should be...that was what he wanted to rid himself of.
Quite how wanting to lose that hollow feeling had led to him bleeding himself like a radiator over one of his mother's towels - not that one dear that's for guests - he wasn't sure. But he had a feeling this was right.
Oh, it hurt, like the time when he was seven and he'd reached up and touched the - the thing on his father's desk, and a bitter, raking, sour, hurting had run through his skin and over his veins and he'd cried and been to bed for a week. But he knew that it was supposed to hurt, and it was no worse than, though different from, the pain when his father whipped him. Or when he -
no no not going to think about it no couldn't have happened no no NO
He hissed, jaw clenching reflexively. He'd cut deeper than he meant to and the blood seemed to have been waiting, dying to escape, so fast was it running down onto the towel -
we'll just put this underneath you don't want you bleeding on your mother's sheets don't look at me like that you little
Blood was drying on the knife blade, spoiling its gleaming perfection, the perfection that had led Draco to thinking about what it could do to his own, personal perfection. He allowed himself to imagine his mother walking in -
not that one dear that's for guests
and shrieking "Draco, darling, don't!" and sweeping him into her arms and not minding about the blood getting on her dress and smelling of perfume the way she used to
sometimes I think we're going to be stuck with that boy forever
He imagined his father coming in and
there now it's all all right and you'll grow up a real man
telling him that he was proud of him and
never happened never happened never happened mother mother mother
He looked down. Somehow, while he was thinking, twenty, thirty little red lines had appeared on his arm, angry, throbbing lines that seemed to be desperate to let blood out, but couldn't because he couldn't run the blade over them again because it hurt too much.
His skin looked like a street map. It made him smile, the Malfoy smile, half a sneer and half a cynical smirk, and he felt sick to his stomach.
i hate it when you smile like that -
- it's the only way i know to smile

The next cut was deep enough to bleed, steadily enough, and his breathing, which he now realised had been suspended for a moment, evened out. He closed his eyes. The pain was really starting to spread now, like a poison, like a draught of something deadly -
who did this to you?
like a poison -
was it Snape?
like -
no no no it was my father my fucking FATHER
lightning must feel when it strikes you.
Only the voices in the hall stopped him; his mother had friends over and he knew he would be expected to sit and be shown off. He pulled the sleeve of his robe down, pleased to see it hid the cuts completely, and whispered a spell to stop the worst of them bleeding on the sandwiches. And then, putting his wand back in his pocket, he left his room and closed the door on it all.

**************
Hmm.

E.
x
  • Current Music
    'I'm Your Money', Heaven 17