I'm a writer. Ink poisoning builds character.

I feel awful.


Just to recap: still sick, still talentless, still not NaNoWriMo.



Damn.


But I did write this--it's not very good; too somber to be real hitchhiker's fiction, but bear with me because it's been raining for three days and shows no signs of stopping.

Unedited, because it's very late and I'm very tired.

( Untitled, 585 words )

I'm sick.


I hate being sick.


Anyway, all this time at home has allowed me to (finally) have the time to write the first part of the crazy Harry/Ron story I've been planning through ages untold and hardships unnumbered.

It sounds angsty, but it isn't...so far. Really, I'm not entirely sure about the mood of the rest of it. Cross-posted to harry_and_ron and title inspired by the song "Go On" by Taking Back Sunday.

( ...And Never Say Goodbye Chapter 1: Falling Apart, 975 words )

I seem to have gotten my mind back under control.


And I've started a novel. Hopefully, since I'm actually writing this one for content and not speed (oooh, just wait until November!) it'll be...you know...decent. Maybe even something that doesn't make me want to tear my hair out and burn all my notebooks.

Last year's novel was fun, though. I don't think I slept through the entire month of November, but goddamnit, I was a NOVELIST.


I'm going to go work on it.



...why is it that, whenever I write, I want to eat dry cereal or something crunchy? I don't even crunch it, I suck on it until it melts in my mouth.

I want to write.


I want to write.


I want to have enough focus to put pen to paper and push out a few of these thoughts. I've got plenty of them. I've also got restless feet and fingers and an upset stomach and dishes that need to be washed. I can't focus on my own work. My hands are shaking and I feel high, high as a kite and neurotic and like I maybe just need to sit down and feel for a little while. Run barefoot through the grass or let ice cream melt on my tongue, savoring every creamy drop. Maybe I can break my own heart, feel something for someone again, and then I'll be able to channel this madness into something productive again.

I miss people. I miss my friends so much. I don't know if I want to laugh or cry. I woke up so sick this morning, shaking and gagging and every noise was so quiet.

I need to go try and write.

So I was watching The Black Rose Saga of Revolutionary Girl Utena today before work, and I realized two things: 1)Mikage is probably the coolest character in the series and 2)there are several characters from other fandoms (HP, non-Black Rose Duelist SKU...). And so, I present:

The Confession Elevator Series!

Wherein my favorite HP characters shall discuss the conflicts that would make them want to duel if they were in something resembling the Utenaverse. The repeated, italized text would be Mikage, for those of you unfamiliar with the series.

Heavens, these seemed a lot better when I wrote them.

( 1 )

( 2 )

( 3 )

( 4 )

The only one I'm really, really pleased with is the last one--it was very important that Riddle not lose his composure in the Elevator.

I love many_miles_away forever for looking this over for me. And I highly recommend her writing, archived at cautious_melody, if you're into slash like the Janely one is. I mean, she actually writes good Harry/Ron!

Please, fair readers, hold back your vegetables--this is my first graphic slash, fem- or otherwise...

( The Predator Posing as a Housepet, Graphic Femslash, word count unknown. )

For some reason, last night seemed to be vaguely depressing night. I offer up two bits of HP fandom.

( Vigilantes, Harry/Ron, Non-graphic, 366 words. )




And it gets worse!
( Half a Person, 207 words. )

If I have time tonight, I'll type up the other works from last night, and perhaps post that graphic femslash that many_miles_away was so kind as to beta-read for me.

Cafe story written while at the cousin's house. Came out better than I could have possibly hoped.

( Untitled, 1023 words )

My house smells like onions.

Snape fiction. Yeah, I know, too much time...this one shouldn't have even left the hard drive, but now that I've edited it on the prodding of a pheonix I'm sort of developing a soft spot for it.

( Song of the Fallen Kingdom, 476 words. )

Your local Citizens-For-Boysenberry-Jam fan is in a femslashy mood. Ladies and gentlemen, it is double-drabble time.

( A Girl Who Laughs for No One Else, 200 words )

My my, how art can mirror real life.

( Good Boy, 217 words )

At first I just wanted to get this out of my head, but so far I like it. It may, actually, go a lot farther than this.

Here goes--first journal entry.

This won't so much be a journal--I keep a real journally journal on a different site. This is a place to collect words--the short stories and chapters and fanworks that have no home elsewhere. Aside from the occasional rant, I suppose this can be home for the muse.


::watches muse set up her armchair and get comfortable::





Enjoy. =D