CONTACT

name Ellie.
personal lj written_doodles.
AIM kismet pirate.
timezone EST / North Carolina.


CONCRIT

Feel free to comment here with any constructive criticism on how I play Ginny Weasley. Am I doing something wrong? Let me know so I can fix it. Am I doing something right? It would be good to let me know, too, so I can keep on doing it!

Anonymous is on and all are screened. But please, keep it clean. ♥

--
HMD I.

( PRIVATE // hexed unhackable )

Bloody nuisance, those visitors over the weekend. Nosy things. And I've had my fair share of that curse, but it never gets any less irritating.

Hope no one was asked anything too scarring.

About this weekend.

Never again. Safer for the sanity of all concerned, I expect.

Especially mine. And Harry's. And Peter's. And... oh, bollocks. Blasted City.


[ filtered against Tom Riddle ]

... Right, all. For those who've no idea who I am and saw the cursed me this weekend, let's clear a few things up. The name's Ginny Weasley, not Gawain. Girl, not bloke. First girl in seven generations, in fact, and I'm bloody proud of it, too.

No offense to my brothers, of course. They're brilliant and I love them. But I'm rather fond of my normal self.

[ video ]

Oi.

[Suddenly, the exasperatedly amused and freckled features of a redheaded young man fills the screen. Judging by the jostling about, he's trying to wrestle the network device from - was that a meow? - a cat. Namely, Crookshanks.]

Come on, you. Give it back. I said—oi, that hurt, you bloody cat!

[A few more confusing moments and finally a triumphant HA! as the redhead emerges the victor. He holds the Muggle thing and smirks down at Crookshanks then to the camera, bright brown eyes twinkling with a familiar Weasley mischief. And why not? They do belong, after all, to a Weasley.]

Alright, so I expect it's another one of those weekends, isn't it? The mad ones. Shouldn't stop a bloke from going for a proper fly about, right? Didn't think so.

[Laughter.]

Curses and cats can't stop Gawain Weasley from playing Quidditch!

[And he goes to turn it off. But pauses then wheels the camera back around, peeeeering into it. These words are directed at particular male acquaintances. You know who you are.]

So you lot coming or what?


( ooc )

[ accidental audio ]

Boys.

[Have some irritable door slamming, network.]

Bloody hell.

[And something rather like the purring of Crookshanks at Ginny's heels and her next words are directed at the feline.]

They ought to just stay well out of trouble or Godric help me, I'll hex the lot of them myself! It's trouble enough that Hermione's gone home, I just can't—





Oh, don't tell me this is... of all the—

[click.]



[ooc; Ginny Weasley has had a loooong weekend. |D Prod at your own risk. Cabin occupants, feel free to have noticed that Ginny was strangely absent for most of Saturday.]

[ accidental voice ]

Mum.

[The voice is faint, as if far away from the recording device, but the urgency and tightly controlled panic is clear.]

Dad, they're coming. They know we've broken the wards—hurry!

[Fumbling, a rush of static. Voices, mostly indistinct, but there's a woman's and several other men, a series of harsh cracks signaling sudden Apparations. An older man's voice, possibly Arthur Weasley himself, orders Ginny to hold on tight. And then—


CRACK.


In a forest clearing, Ginny Weasley appears, stumbling in the wake of Side-Along Apparation.]


Dad? Dad, where are you?

[A pause, during which Ginny's quick breaths are very audible. Calm. Be calm. Death Eaters might have taken her family but panicking won't do any good.]

Fred! George!

I don't... Mum? Auntie Muriel? This isn't—

... oh, God.


[ooc; Ginny Weasley's back in your City, updated to the moment the Weasley family had to abandon the Burrow for Great Aunt Muriel's safe house. Why? Because they're blood traitors and now that Voldy and his folks know a Weasley's with Potter, they've gone after the whole bunch. Ginny's memories of the City are shaky but she'll get them all back when she's had some explanations and a rest.]

[ video ]

The recording starts when Ginny sets her network device on her bed, the lens at an awkward angle so that all you can see are her bare feet and the swish of her dressing gown as she makes her way to the door. Those English and their tea times.

When the door swings open, those feet freeze, and there is a gasp from the redheaded witch.

"This isn't the..."

The door opens a bit more and it obscures Ginny entirely, the camera filled with floor and door and nothing else.

"... The Room? But it can't—Merlin's beard, Neville?" Ginny sounds excited now, her voice oddly echoing, as if she's shouting into a stone room in a castle, not down the hallway of a cabin. "Seamus! Ernie, Parv—!"

And Ginny runs through the door without another word and it swings shut behind her.

The recording shuts off on its own.


[ooc; Ginny Weasley has left the City for an update! And I'm off to the airport in a few. SEE YOU GUYS ON THE OTHER SIDE! :D]

In my world, the Ministry of Magic keeps an eye on underaged magic with something called the Trace.

You can't do a thing with your wand outside of school until you turn 17 years old—which is when you're legally an adult. Then you can go about and hex your brothers or do your chores with a spell (if Mum isn't looking) without worrying about Ministry officials sending a very stern owl.

Technically, my Trace breaks today. But I've been doing underaged magic here for ages so... it's all kind of anticlimactic, isn't it?

Well, still. Happy birthday to me, I suppose.


[ooc; THREADJACK EVERYWHERE, YOU GUYS! I LOVE IT. Random action, etc, I don't care. 8) ]

[ filtered from Harry Potter // UNHACKABLE or so Remus wishes ]

Dinner?
gardens quid gloves useless
can't charm a broom can I?
last year.

What is a good gift for a young man when one is a tight budget. A very tight budget. Handmade gifts are not only acceptable but preferenced.



[ooc; While making tea, Ginny Weasley's network device was hijacked by one Remus Lupin to pose the question of wtf to get for Harry's birthday. Apparently Remus also fails at filters. First half of the entry in strikes was Ginny's brainstorming fail.]

It's definitely been an eventful few days, though they weren't entirely bad.

I mean, this is probably the first time I've enjoyed myself on a cursed day—not that that's any invitation to keep them coming, City! But—

... oh, bollocks, that probably means it's going to happen now.


[ooc; Open for 4th walling at midnight! Um, also, no double Ginnies? And for the love of God, don't tell her she's from a book. XD I AM OFF TO PERFORM IN A CONCERT NOW but i will reply asap. ♥ ]

Today's been feeling a bit off. Not sure why, exactly, since I'm quite certain I was perfectly fine yesterday. I'd better not be getting ill—I thought the City was done with all that.

But now that I think about it, I reckon it's the heat. Nothing a trip to the beach won't fix, eh, Hermione? We really ought to follow through with that brilliant idea of yours, cursed or no.

What d'you lot think?

private |

Harry, could we talk?


[ooc; Ginny Weasley's kryptonite = glasses. Specifically, the glasses of a certain green-eyed young man with a scar on his forehead. 8D hey, if you think that's mean, be glad i didn't go through with the diary idea.

SOB I'M SORRY PLACEHOLDER. Need sleep desperately but also needed to get this post up. Will reply in like 6 hours i swear ilu all. BACK!]

( [ private // HEXED UNHACKABLE ] )

The twins left the City.

Before you ask, yeah, I'm sure. I checked.

[ voice ]

It's been ages since I've properly seen a meteor shower.

[chuckling] Well, without having to take notes on it for Astronomy, of course.

I wonder if it'll happen again.


[ooc; bed for me! will reply later. ♥]

I spoke to Peter Pevensie the other day about flying, which of course led to brooms and...

Quidditch.

I can guess—and correctly, I'm sure—that Harry tried to start Quidditch while he was here. But from the looks of things, he wasn't exactly too successful at it, which is a right shame. I mean, I'm dead certain that a person doesn't need to be magical to actually mount a broom and toss a Quaffle around, yeah? If Muggleborns who've never heard of the game, much less played it, can pick it up as a firstie, why can't we get together a proper set of teams?

Fred, George, Ron? You three up for a game? Of course, we've only got one broom between the four of us, so it's probably best we figure out how to charm a couple. Regulus left before he could show me how he made mine, you see. But I've no doubt that we can figure it out (especially with Hermione's help; you will, won't you, Hermione?). We're Weasleys, aren't we?



[ooc; off to voice lessons, will be back in about two hours! sorry, totally forgot! D: HOME!

OFF TO A THEATRE MAKEUP WORKSHOP/EXHIBIT BECAUSE I FAIL. BRB AGAIN. D:

i am so sorry but i must sleep now. backdate? D:]

Ginny Weasley is running. Her black robes whip behind her as she tries to be silent, her wand is drawn but unlit, she extinguishes the torches down the corridor to mask herself in darkness. The hallway stretches endlessly, but she keeps running, her breath comes in sharp gasps; the doors flash past but they are never the right one. Behind her comes slow wheezing, shuffling footsteps and angry yowling from a certain Mrs Norris.

( ickle wee weasley with hair so red, best run fast or you'll end up dead )


[ooc; Hoo boy. There's some crazy shit in there, and most of it is a big big secret from pretty much everyone ever. Jump in at any sequence if you'd like: hallway, Room of Requirement, Forbidden Forest and the clearing with the diary. Word of warning to the brave - she won't know you in this dream if you aren't from her world. She may try to hex you. With that said, have at it!]

( [ Ron Weasley // PRIVATE ] )

What in Godric's name...

Fred Weasley, this hasn't got a thing to do with you, has it? I know it's your birthday—happy birthday, by the way—but this is all a bit much. Celebrated war hero, yes, but did you have to bring your adoring public with you?

... I'm getting the impression that they're all a bit mad.


[ooc; Have at her! Player journals, character journals - totally welcome! Please, no duplicates/AU-versions of Ginny, and DO NOT SPOIL HER FOR THE END OF DEATHLY HALLOWS. She is pre-Easter holidays, so. Yeah. Warning: will be sporadic, thanks to timezones.]

( [ private // HEXED UNHACKABLE ] )

Luna, Hermione. We've got food, haven't we?

Fred, in his own words, is famished. I'd rather he didn't tear apart the place looking for sweets or something. You know he would, too.


[ooc; sob fred weasley is dead and ginny didn't know. This entry takes place between this thread and his arrival at the cabin.]

[ VIDEO ]

Madam Pomfrey bustles around the infirmary of Hogwarts castle and Ginny stands by a hospital bed, staring down at its still occupant. It's difficult to see the resemblence now, but it is her eldest brother Bill that lies there, though he is much too pale—even for a red-headed Weasley. Her hands are blood-stained where they rest on the blanket, afraid to move any closer to the ripped and mangled mess that was her brother’s face. That may be a tear slipping down her cheek, but she makes no move to brush it away. She probably doesn't even realise she's shed it; it's almost uncharacteristic of Ginny to look this lost and yet here she is in plain sight of friends and family.

But then a voice, Professor McGonagall's, speaks from a distance, asking for Harry, and the name snaps Ginny out of it. She straightens and comes back to herself a little. Her voice is quiet but firm when she answers, “I’ll find Harry.”

Ginny wipes the blood from her fingers and the tears from her cheeks. She clenches her hands into fists and they stop shaking. She briefly meets the gazes of those in the room with regained resolve, perhaps a flicker of a faint smile. Then she turns and leaves the room.


[ooc; FEEL FREE TO COMMENT idk brb school backdate? D:]

Ron.

Give me your clothes now.


[ooc; Little sister is now... little brother. What.]

... So that's a curse, eh? Not too bad.

And no, none of you lot will get to see a peek of what I've written. I'm still far more used to a sheet of parch paper than this Muggle thing so it's ended up on that. To be honest, being compelled to write stuff down without knowing it is—frightening. Fucking memories. It's probably for the best, though.

Not that any of it needed writing down. I know what I've got to do.

But Happy New Year's, everyone.


[ooc; strikes are so unhackable, it's not even funny. also, she does not remember being v affected by the age curse, so she thinks this is her first one. ALSO, she heard wat u did thar, hp crew, but is not saying a word.]