#hopefully the winter season is more than just cold rain this year lmao

[lacnunga]

Cmoooon summer be over already

[ranger-kellyn]

11 Favorite Excerpts

In honor if it being the 11 year anniversary of the first fic I ever posted, Platinum Bound, I thought I’d list out 10 of my favorite excerpts from everything I’ve posted so far, 1 from something I haven’t posted yet, and then kind of just. Talk about it~

As always, feel free to talk to me about any of my fics, no matter how old or new~ I’m very vain~<3

--

1 - Come With Me - Prologue - 03/02/2015 - Completed

A day that was supposed to be filled with sorrow and mourning had turned out to be very lovely. The cold that had long persisted since November had decided to lighten its icy grip on this one day in particular. It was almost a tragedy in itself that the weather failed to match the mood by pouring a relentless downpour. Rain was fit for a funeral. Not sunshine.

The opening to Come With Me has always had a special place in my heart, and while I know my writing has gotten better since then, I always hold up this opening as like...my premium brand, I suppose.  I love the mood the prologue sets up for Siebold’s side of the story.  Mismatched weather.  His parents having the same death date.  A sense of odd relationship dynamics with them.  Clear indication that there’s going to be a lot of conflict with Jean as shown by Diantha, Siebold’d childhood friend, who has a clear disdain towards him.  CWM may not be my BEST WORK, but it’s probably one of my favorites.  ALSO....come on...the restaurant’s name is Apple of The Earth, which is a direct translation of pomme de terre, which is French for potato.  And like???? i just get a little kick out of it every time

--

2 - It Takes Two - 12/16/2014 - Oneshot

Siebold chuckled.  “A water dark type?  My, my.  You’ve already put yourself at a disadvantage. Cress shook his head.  “Don’t give away your secret ingredient just yet, Siebold.  Leave something to the imagination, please,” he teased.

If there is ONE THING I LOVE it’s writing flirty banter for these two, and this fic if full of it.  My first fic for Cress/Siebold, staking my claim on the pool noodle that is this ship.  I AM the captain of this pool noodle

--

3 - Second Chances - Chapter 7 - 06/14/2017 - Ongoing

“It was supposed to be me!” . . . Shaking, she stopped herself in the front hallway.  Looking over the large, glass-famed map, she felt as though she was leaving her own body as she slammed herself against it in a last ditch effort to feel something other than emotional pain.  In an effort to put a physical wound to her emotional one. 

There’s plenty of happier lines from this fic I could choose.  Ch 10 had a section I was considering instead, but I think this emotionally charged section has always stood out for me. I like to generally characterize Cynthia as someone who is in control of her emotions, or at the very least, is very good at compartmentalizing things, but here, she absolutely loses it.  No rationality.  No seeking help.  Just raw pain.  It was supposed to be me. Because it was!  It absolutely was!  In the previous chapter you learn that Diantha had fully intended to propose to her!  But was instead manipulated by her mother and manager into leaving Cynthia.  While Cynthia didn’t know that, we do, and that makes that line so much more painful to me.  I swear.  ONE DAY.  I’ll actually finish this fic.

--

4 - Fortune and Fame - Chapter 1 - 03/23/2016 - Completed

“The best part of that outfit would be taking it off.” Her mouth turns into a smile. “I should think so,” she tells you.

Second person POV is a HUGE pain in the ass, but I still love this silly little fic, and I love this silly little moment EVEN MORE.  What can I say.  I love flirty banter. This whole fic was an absolute experiment, and while it certainly could be better, considering 2POV is not something I regularly work with, I’ve never been too upset with it.

--

5 - Stockholm - Chapter 4 - 06/20/2016 - Ongoing

“You’re my mission and my mission alone.  I don’t need outside help,” he tells me. I catch myself about to laugh.  “Figured you would welcome it seeing as whatever you think you’re doing to me clearly isn’t working.” He moves closer, enough for me to feel the warmth of his body, but it’s only when I think he’s looking at my lips do I come to my senses, pulling my legs up to my person, and pushing back up against the wall. “I would say it’s working just fine.”

i like to think of this fic as me playing in a sandbox.  i don’t REALLY know what i’m doing, but i’m having fun, and that’s all that matters. This is a fic I had been thinking about for the longest time.  I abandoned it back in 2016.  I don’t really remember why, but I posted the first update early this year, and I just.  I’ve been loving it since.  I haven’t played in first person in SUCH a long time, it’s just nice to play in the space, and explore a darker emotion I guess.  Game verse Commander Saturn/Dawn is always a weakness of mine

--

6 - Shadows of My Heart - Chapter 4 - 02/22/2011 - Completed

Looking at Kellyn, I notice that he has taken his jacket off and is now offering it to me. Shaking my head, I tell him that I can't take it, even though I would love nothing more than to take him up on his offer. He walks closer, smiling as he places his jacket over me. Now, the only thing I hear is the sound of the rain bouncing off of Kellyn's jacket, and the sound my own heartbeat. I'd have to be crazy or dead to not be blushing right now, and obviously my pulse is still going…

if you’ve followed me for a few years, you might think this is a weird pick for me.  i complain about it a lot.  i experience a lot of visceral cringe whenever i reread it (Like i did just now searching for a section i liked) But that’s why I like it.  I love having this visible benchmark of where I’ve come from, and where my ideals have shifted to.  I’ve always written Kellyn as my Ideal Man™© and in this fic he is suCH A “NICE GUY” AND IT’S JUST. SO BAD. I’M SO GLAD I’M NOT WITH THE KIND OF PERSON I USED TO WISH I WAS WITH. This fic is, at best, clumsy.  Younger me was venting a LOT of stuff. Everything I put Rhythmi through in the fic, I was dealing with irl, and NOT handling them well.  I never recommend this for reading, but I list it here because it’s like looking in a time capsule.  

--

7 - Washington Blues - Chapter 2 - 04/30/2012 - Abandoned Work

Looking back up at me, the afternoon sun shines on her face.  As if I needed to be reminded that she is very pretty.  “I believe that it is too soon to be giving a definite answer, but,” she pauses to brush some hair behind her ear, “I do believe I am going to like it here.” I nod, liking the answer she has provided.  I put my pink bag over my shoulder, and step down the stairs.  “That’s good to hear.  I do hope you come to love our little band,” I say, putting a little emphasis on “our”.  Hopefully she will start using that term as well.

This fic has been abandoned since 2012, but as I was rereading it just now, I...felt a weird urge to give it a second chance?  Marching band was my EVERYTHING in high school.  It was basically my personality.  It and Homestuck.  If nothing else, I think I might give this fic a redo, because it’s something my younger self would have loved.  I had so many ideas I wanted to explore and I think it would be a fun space to explore. Just reading it I got the most tactile memories of band camp, from the sounds, all the way down to the god awful smells.  One day I’ll give this fic another go, but probably in 3rd person lmao.  Also, it’s kind of funny.  I remember holding this fic up as like.  My Magnum Opus.  I considered chapter 1 to be the BEST thing I had written up to that point. Now? It’s so fucking D RY......and no real person talks like they all do l m a o I love being able to see how far I’ve come. 

--

8 - Hindsight - Sometime Feb 2014?  - Oneshot for an old RP group

This question led him to placing both of his hands in his lap.  “I would never describe her as winter.  It’s the season she hates the most.  From what I’ve gathered during our travels together, understandably so,” he answered, not meeting her eyes. 

While this fic is OLD it holds a very special place in my heart.  I had stopped writing for a while.  For about 2 years nothing I wrote ever really panned out, and joining that RP group was literally the best thing I could have done for my creativity.  It was so much fun, and I met some truly incredible people thanks to it.  Literally, everything I’ve written since I attribute to that group.  <3 I may not talk to most of them anymore, but I have some of the best memories of that time, and I just.  Genuinely don’t think I would have HALF of what I have written now if it hadn’t been for their support.  <3

--

9 - Ours For The Taking - Chapter 2 - 01/28/2012 - Abandoned Work

Killing is in the nature of almost every Pokémon, but we humans have inhibited that out for the most part. It doesn't take much to trigger the instinct though. A couple kills and then they thirst for blood.

Now i know this looks like a WACK ASS PICK.  It’s been abandoned since 2012.  It’s bad.  It’s gore.  It’s bad.  But that’s exactly why I picked it.  That, and I know it would chap Farla’s ass bc she told me years ago how awful this fic was. The whole reason my writing confidence took a blow.  I can look back and know that this fic wasn’t great, but I hate for my younger self that they were knocked down like that.  You can’t learn the boundaries of your writing until you try to push them.  Maybe I could have turned into a great gore/horror writer if I hadn’t been knocked down?  Who knows?  But because of that negative experience, I now approach all comments I leave on fics with “unconditional positive regard”.  I firmly believe if someone wants con-crit they’ll ask for it, and even then, I’m not someone who is going to offer up that criticism.  That’s not my jam.  I’m just here for a good time.  This fic may be bad, but that’s why I love it.  I love how over the top, 2Edgy4me the two chapters are. 

--

10 - Getaway Car - Chapter 5 - 01/01/2019 - Ongoing

Pulling away just enough to make them look at one another, Cynthia looked her over.  She was getting more drunk admissions than she ever thought she would, and she was in no frame of mind to worry about pushing her luck.  “How did that make you feel?” she asked. She let her hand trail down her arm as she spoke.  “Grounded.  Like nothing else in the world mattered except us in that moment.  I wasn’t worried about filming, deadlines, what people might say or think, or– anything, really.  All that mattered was the calm you brought me, and how without meaning to you’ve made me feel like the most important person in the room.”

It’s no secret that Getaway Car is like.  MY BABY.  This is MY FIC.  MY BABY.  I CHERISH THIS FIC FOR SO MANY REASONS. I like venting through characters, and this fic is no exception.  But I loved writing this moment specifically, because it just...I think it encapsulates everything Diantha has been looking for.  She lives a charmed, chaotic life.  Up to that point in the fic, she’s with a man who can’t really be bothered to give her the time of day, but also can’t handle the idea of letting her go.  Without meaning to, without necessarily trying to, Cynthia makes her feel like the most important person in the room.  She grounds her, and someone who lives a star-studded life needs that.  This fic is my baby.  My everything.  It’s probably what I’m known for at this point, and I’m A-OK with that because these two are my everything.  (ALSO, I specifically posted this fic when I did to get Farla to leave me a review, and had a good laugh about it when she did.  My “bat shit crazy” plot device has ended up being my most popular fic~)

--

--

11 - Namtaflu - Chapter _ - Draft from NaNoWriMo 2019

The sound of something rising to the surface of the water attracted everyone’s attention.  Turning their eyes towards the water, one by one, countless Starmie and Staryu began to surface, floating atop the water, their bright gem center’s shining in the moonlight.  “Oh, wow,” Bianca said, holding the Audino closer to herself.  "What are they doing?” Hilbert asked, turning himself so he wasn’t having to strain to look at them.  Cheren shrugged.  “They’ve always done this.” "They’re looking at the stars,” Hilda added.  “It’s what Nona would always tell me.  She said she read it in a book somewhere.  They surface at night to look at the stars, and they’ll even start blinking here soon.”  As she said it, from out in the distance, quick flashes of red began to move along the waves, reminding both her and Cheren of fireflies from further south.  Soon enough, the entire shoreline was filled with the water pokémon blinking away at the stars, almost as if they were communicating with each other, or even something else.  A few Audino continued to sit with them, everyone moved to silence by the display, afraid to make a single noise, not wanting to scare them at all and make them stop.  The display moved in waves, like a heartbeat, ebbing and flowing.  At times they were bright enough to cast a glow onto the shore, and at others it seemed like they had collectively stopped for the night. Once Broadway and Manhattan had decided to retire for the night, the group came to an agreement that it was time they retired for the night as well.  They had stayed up long past sundown, but it had been worth every second.   

I won’t be posting this fic WELL until my three current ongoing fics are completed, but this fic is pretty much everything to me.  I first got the idea for this fic back in 2013, my senior year of high school.  I wrote the first draft my first NaNoWriMo in 2014, and did a second draft of it last year.  This fic has evolved SO MUCH, but this last draft is where I’m REALLY happy with it.  I firmly believe there’s never a “right time” to write a fic, but I also believe this fic absolutely benefited from me not posting it after that first draft.  They’re almost two entirely different stories.  The original had a lot of unhealthy relationship dynamics, and this time, i decided, FUCK THAT, and now it’s a hilda/hilbert/cheren/bianca poly fic ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ I can’t wait for the day when I actually get to share this fic with the world. 

[jewelsunrays]

On Saturday I went for a bra fitting. I was kinda nervous, I thought standing there in my bra (crop top) would be really intimidating and I’d get body conscious. Especially considering what a late bloomer I am and that I’d never actually worn bras until that fitting. It went considerably better than expected though, but I did get confused on how much eye contact is appropriate to give to the woman who is gesturing to your boobs and her own boobs and discussing boobs and so on and so forth.

We got a Taco Bell after. There are only about 30 Taco Bells in the UK as opposed to hundreds, maybe a thousand?, McDonalds and such, so I really wanted to take the opportunity to try what I’d heard many people praise highly. It was good, but kinda mid. The way everyone claimed it to be great but it was just like something I could easily throw together at home but better was unfortunate but I’d still eat it again to be honest.

Then we went shopping. Growing up (by growing up I mean any time before 2020 where I feel all my life experiences and childhood truly ended) I’d never been a fan of shopping especially a shopping spree for hours as I’d get easily overwhelmed in changing rooms, with all the crowds and the noise, the heat and the ache of my feet. But in recent times I’ve learnt to tune out the negative in order to gather these life experiences even with all the bad mingled in, as I’ve ruined many moments that could’ve been formative experiences and great stories in the future by simply focusing on the negative and hiding in a corner and just spending my whole time trying to leave. Thats not really a way to live a life, so I tried my best to stay upbeat all day.

I’ve really been into brighter colours recently, so I bought some nice new tops, and a skirt for the first time ever. I also bought a dress but the skirt doesn’t suit my figure and makes my legs look bad, so I’ll perhaps have to get one with a skirt that flares out more like the skirt. I really went outside my comfort zone that day - a bra fitting, trying new food and drinks (that strawberry + mango ice drink was amazing), buying clothes that I’d probably be scared to wear or buy two years ago. I really hope I can keep this up! I also bought some bras, some earrings, a lacy grey matching pyjama set and I almost forgot but it just hit me as I was writing - the cutest converse trainers ever! They were like normal black high-top Converse but with pretty pastel flowers embroidered into the side and a pastel purple sole. I think I got emotional seeing them in the store and realising I could wear them.

So that was truly the first time I’d ever enjoyed shopping even though my mum’s bank account is probably suffering. I can’t wait for the opportunity to wear my new clothes, hopefully at Wetherspoons this Sunday if mum keeps to her word? I suppose she’ll forget though lmao.

Right now there is the most atrocious heatwave imaginable in the UK. It reached 34°C today, what a sick joke. And my friends from other countries are like ‘um damn ok’ and don’t really understand that - according to people that have actually been abroad - UK heat is just the absolute worst, we’re not built for this. Neither the cities or the houses or the people are built for this. My younger brother is staying off school because my mum fears for his health, that’s how sickly this heat is. I am trying to cherish it and would like to go on a walk but I know realistically I will pass out. Worse, all the ice cream and lollies in supermarkets have sold out so we can’t keep cool through that :(

I can’t wait for winter even though I know it will probably be depressing. My favourite weather, my least favourite time of year, if that makes sense. Even though I love Christmas despite its painfulness. I just love the cold and rain and snow despite the vibes that come with the heat is absolutely unmatched. This is why autumn and spring are rivalled for my favourite seasons, you get a good healthy mix of both weathers.

Also, if I get to go on a shopping trip to buy winter clothes to last me between October-May I will be so excited oh my gosh

[silkandconvalescencerpg]

I’m honestly a little in disbelief that this has finally made its way into the light, and I apologize for how long it took for me to simply put this together. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy this little look into ballast and may it spur on any of your own musings!

001. OUT OF CHARACTER,

NAME/ALIAS + AGE. ↳ I’m Dea, eighteen, and my three favorite films are The Mummy, Moulin Rouge!, and Dead Poets Society (with Brother Bear rounding out as my closely-lagging fourth). I like to think they adequately spell out my character, if anything, representing the very core of my soul. (Evie O’Connell was my first crush and forevermore the love of my life, if that makes my personality any clearer.)

TIMEZONE + ACTIVITY. ↳ PST, and as for my activity, I try to be online as often as I can, and that’ll be a lot easier now that we’ve transitioned into the summer season. However, I still have work and that’ll take up a decent portion of my time, though I try to be as transparent as I can in terms of letting you all know when I’ll be absent from the main and such, and will continue to be so when game-play begins. Hopefully I manage to achieve the right balance between the main and James’ account!

TRIGGERS + PRONOUNS. ↳ I go by she/her, but have no problem with being referred to as they/them. Regarding triggers, visuals of excessive gore are pretty much the worst of what I can take.

002. IN CHARACTER INFORMATION,

MUSE DESIRED. ↳ Ballast & James Sirius Potter.

            JAMES, a gentle curse, an exhale, soft and affectionate and incapable of being said without a smile tugging at the corners of one’s mouth. spit in vexation, cursed in crimson-tinged anger, sighed in misled adoration, hiccuped in between gut-wrenching laughs. your mother whispers it (worry creasing lines on her otherwise youthful face, fingers twitching, longing to reach out to stroke your head like you loved when you could still fit in her hands) when she thinks you can’t hear and yells it (anxiety toppling into frustration, showering you in the spitfire that scorches in the center of her belly, distinct to the windswept fire of ginny weasley) when she knows you can’t hear anything but. your father, eighteen years of experience hardly denting the habit, sounds out the syllables of your name with a reverence (half respect for the father he never knew and half tender disbelief for the son he still can’t believe he had a part in creating) and groans them with an age-old tiredness (his scar may not pain him any longer, but you sure do). the very utterance of your name is followed by an exuberant eye roll, high in fashion with both your sister and brother. james, james, james. does it belong to you?

            SIRIUS, a bullet of a name. there are more legends than facts surrounding your namesake, and god, when did they become yours to swallow? you may not carry his blood (pure, black, rotten to the core) but your pout is sculpted from the same lips as his; your hair is as monstrously notorious and decadent; that gruff bark of laughter rings oh-so alike, except he was the grim and you’re a puppy; a leather jacket, illusory with the phantom heat of his flesh, and you can’t quite decide if the weight is a comforting warmth or if it burns, heavy and scathing. i mean, really ⏤ is it still just as funny when your telltale “sirius is my middle name” line is matched with a wince?

            POTTER, both a tragedy and a blessing. out of your unlucky lot, perhaps this is the worst card. your blood is tinged with the greats, the giants of wizarding lore, potters, and weasleys, and evans’ (singularly gifted witch that she was), and just about everything fucking else in between, because sometimes practically the entirety of the wizarding world wants to snatch their own piece and more the pity, you let them. resentment curls in your belly, curdling and hot, warring with the warmth of your love, the kind that seeps tender heat into one’s aching muscles, like the gentle caress of curling inside a bath, of a candle’s gentle flare in the center of your darkened home, rain softly wailing outside. it makes you want to weep; it makes you want to cry and scream and claw yourself inside out; it makes your heart want to burst from love, from bone-chattering laughter, from adoration, from responsibilities to ghosts, from the weight of it all.

            (  B A L L A S T  ), the solid stone beneath, the foundation everyone can’t help but stand upon. (and that’s it, folks, lmao.)

FACE CLAIM. ↳ Xavier Serrano.

GENDER + ORIENTATIONS. ↳ Cis male, he/him, and bisexual biromantic.

DATE OF BIRTH + BLOOD STATUS + YEAR. ↳ Born OCTOBER 30TH, 2005, as a HALFBLOOD, and currently enrolled as a SEVENTH YEAR at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

            This birth date falls under the SCORPIO star sign, in addition to being the day before Halloween, also known as the death day of his grandparents. Irony is a sharp bite to the ass, and this one particularly stings. He’s on the very edge of spilling into the sorrowful night, one brimming with the ghosts of old, beasts of legends, terrors lurking in the encompassing shadows. What is better: to be on the precipice of disaster (everyone sharply aware of just how close he came to being a masochist’s wet dream: firstborn son of Harry Potter emerging into the world on the night of his parents’ anniversary of being murdered; oh, our hearts are positively aching in bittersweet agony) or to narrowly miss another chance to align himself with the ghost who will forever haunt him?

            The exact date was chosen carefully, for the image of James being born in the high tide of the ever-haunting month, on the edge of leave-strewn and rust-tinted November and swarmed in the absolute magic that encompasses October, is one that is so wholly him. One might imagine him in the sweetness of spring, chaste and rosy and so heartwarmingly raw. Or perhaps in the heat of summer, where he is gold, gold, gold, and so unnervingly bright, it blinds you with its scorching radiance. Even winter could be his home, with its stark bitterness and empty promises of warmth and protection in a candle-lit home, cold snow blanketing all life. Yet, the season where leaves dance in the swirling winds and ugly beasts emerge into the night with the beauty of the divine is the one that holds his heart in its grip; fall, fall, fall, and he does.

            Moreover, this analysis cemented his star sign completely ⏤⏤ attracts people by: depth and allure, emotional bonding, safeguarding and undying protection, intellect and mystique, loyalty and slowly revealed vulnerability, ability to inspire inner confidence &  loses people by: antagonism, control and possession, withdrawal and reactivity, emotional coldness and emotional paralysis, self-righteousness, disconnecting privacy, staunch defence of personal ideologies.

HOUSE + ANALYSIS. ↳ GRYFFINDOR, and it almost seems a disservice to the gods above, to the spite burning in his blood and scorching his mind, begging to be contrary just for the sake of a rebellion, a piece of him that deviates from the path he was destined to crawl. Why couldn’t he be different? Why did his heart burst with the same roaring pound of a lion’s and bleed with the same passion and obnoxious sense of self? Courage was a pillar he conquered within his first breath, and nerve was the fire to his blood’s gasoline, lighting up with a stunning vengeance. But, oh no, these are not the grounds upon which his sorting was based on ⏤ if anything, his undying belief in morality, of all stupid things, is what so clearly planted him within the lions den. Even more so, it’s the fact that he values morality above all else, not the details of his beliefs. That dogged perseverance has the capability of swallowing him whole.

FUNCTIONS. ↳ DUELING CLUB & THE BONES CLUB, both sought him out, and though resistance tasted sweet, a part of him was soft for it, the idea of being apart of something other than within the barracks of his family. There’s a feral part of him, hunger aching in his bones, and it’s sated, buzzed on a high, when he’s in the midst of dueling for the fucking hell of it (spells teasing, a flirtatious back and forth of fatal proportions, a dark curiosity licking its paws in the corner, waiting to pounce, and god, does it fill him) or scheming in the dark, four heads weaving together, morbid mischief and jest galore reigning in their souls. The day that a bewitched note appeared in every page of every book he touched, flirting with him to join a club of bones (stupid fucking name, was the first thing out of his mouth in that beginning meeting of his, some years ago now) and daring him to chase (something? anything? everything?) was the day that some fragile chip of him sealed its way back on.

003. WRITING + EXTRAS,

INTERNAL ⏤ CHARACTER ANALYSIS. ↳ Because I’m lacking in time (entirely my fault, yikes, I know), I’ve chosen to highlight three individual aspects (headcanons) of his character as a whole in an attempt to puzzle together a tangible picture of who he is, and through the evulsion of these facets, other details and factors of his persona will become present (or at least that’s what I’m angling for, fingers crossed). Essentially, these are the corners of his character that breathed something a little more divine than life into him, conjuring him in a different light and contorting that light into something blindingly magnificent. 

            RELIGION, something that struck me as i was writing some part of the application above is my constant use of the word god, spitting out in my writing with a vicious ease. this isn’t my own, natural, guttural utterance of the word, but rather the voice of james, spilling out like an unwelcome grease. it started out as a small rebellion, more to himself than anything else, for isn’t it always? ⏤ something to distract himself, purge himself, from the person he is. he’s not a complete idiot, you know; he knew of a god, several of them, upon which muggles called upon, prayed upon, ached upon. magic was his god; his father, his mother, his grandparents, all of his blood family and all their friends; the titans of the wizarding world boiled down to human form, glorified and shining beyond belief; they were gods, or at least, they were treated as such. merlin was the force above them all; and circe and nimue and the founders of hogwarts and everybody else deemed a little bit special. well, perhaps the muggles had something better, and so, he checked. a copy of the bible was snatched by his hands, and the pages were devoured. greek myths were no longer fantasies, but reality; after all, if magic could existed, why couldn’t they? he scoured for any and all gods, learning the way of the old world and diving into cultures and religions with a swimmer’s finesse. he stuck to the idea like an indulgent tar, clinging to the idea with no small desperation; perhaps if there was a god(s), as the muggles proclaimed and spat, then who he is was no mistake ⏤ he was meant to be the firstborn of harry potter, meant to carry the weight of ghosts on his back, meant to feel a crumpling in his bones, meant to burn with a love for his family and yet freeze over with most others. it was out of his hands, yes, finally, thank god. for nearly the first time in his fifteen years of life, he breathed with ease, unfiltered and soft and free. and then, short of a blissful month later, he fell. not unlike a fallen angel, nor unlike a star toppling from the sky, crashing and burnt and dust. there was no fate or destiny of god above, watching and waiting and pulling strings like a grand and demented puppeteer. now, he spits the words, sarcasm denting every syllable, even in earnest. 

            JEWELRY, ever since he can remember, he’s liked the glint of jewels. the way they encompass a color, almost swallowing you alongside with it. the intricacy is unfamiliar to his own fingers, and yet they still grasp to hold it. there’s no explanation or reason behind it all, transparent and easy to receive. a cut, blood red ruby adorns a gold chain on his chest, and a sister piece sits on his finger as a ring, both a gift from his mother. he loathe to take either off in any case, and often treasures them as closely as his wand. moreover, he’s not been known to reject a little smear of matching lipstick, though on occasion it’s been used as a paintbrush for some doodle on his cheeks rather than lined on his lips. he has no qualms with revealing that shard of himself, and the swarm of deep red on golden flesh is quite the sight to behold, anyway.

            GOTTA DO MORE, GOTTA BE MORE, not all characters have an original muse, but mine was definitely charlie dalton from dead poets society, as well as the more obvious character parallel of neil perry. james was written and created for this verse with neither in mind, and a great part of my entire outlook and analysis of him was already set in stone by the time i rewatched the film, but then, it just hit me. the specific mannerisms of charlie’s character are so apparent in james, from his facial expressions to the false bravado and desperation to seek something a little more in life and shatter himself in the process, and of course the advice that would strike james just as severely as it did charlie: “sucking the marrow out of life doesn’t mean chocking on the bone.” moreover, this entire scene perfectly encapsulates a part of james that simply cannot be said through words, which is why it works so well. the loyalty that charlie holds, gritty and strong and unparalleled, is one that lives on within james as well. and then there’s neil perry, who is the brightest light with a heart of gold, passion and soul simply dripping off him in excess, yet is shackled down by the weight of his parents, though not in the same way as james. a darkness feeds off of him, deep inside and caving him in, and that is so true to james’ character. there are plenty more parallels to go over, but those can be dissected at another time (an actual detail-by-detail parallel analysis has been in the works, i can say). 

(And because I haven’t said much else, I’ll just add in this snippet of his character that I wrote a little while ago in response to a question!) To me, James is a highly emotional character who nearly bursts from the zest that breathes within him, but can almost be accused of being a masochist because he so forcefully attempts to swallow that down and play the role of one unbothered by life in whole. He has a great respect and fierce loyalty toward his family, yet this is what so severely hurts him, for in the times that he can’t help but resent the expectations that so massively fall on him, it tears him up inside, which just creates and perpetrates a vicious cycle. The Burrow is one of his favorite places to be, for sure. He’s at a standstill in life where he has no idea what he’s bound to do once he leaves the life he’s known for seven years, desperate to both leave and stay. He isn’t committed to academics in any way (for now), but that doesn’t account for his caustic wit. He’s wonderfully complex and contradictory, but he’s also a massive sweetheart, and I can’t help but simply think of heat in relation to him. Like he’s just That Person that constantly has warm, almost hot, skin and you don’t know how in the dead of winter that’s possible. He’s definitely an anchor, and that’s where my decision of ballast originates from.

EXTERNAL ⏤ CONNECTIONS + POTENTIAL PLOTLINES. ↳ I’m going to wait on divulging on any specific skeleton character connections in mind for fear of inducing any bias, though here are some plotlines I’d like to uncover.

            Something that I’m very eager to explore is the contrast that James feels in relation to his family, and how that positively tears him up inside. It’s likened to a battle of the heart versus the mind: who he truly is and who he feels he can’t be, in fear of sacrificing his soul in the process. Essentially, I want to push him to the breaking point, shattering his senses into some mangled ball of shit that he must sort out. He’s in desperate need a breath of fresh air, and he’s been suffocating for years.  Moreover, he’s never really faced this mass of contradiction within him, always turning a blind eye and swallowing it down, scorching his throat in the process and nailing his heart right through the center. And when he must, all hell will break loose, and what can I look forward to, if not that?

            James is a golden light that may dim, but has never been blown out. Until now. I want to see him untethered and catastrophically scratched, the golden, youthful and scarlet blush of his flesh waned and stark against the image of who he is. What will cause this, lead to this, pioneer his destruction? Furthermore, he’s a seventh year as this school year starts, and that means his ass is out in less than a year, and he is absolutely unsure of what awaits him once he’s left these halls. I want to plant the seeds of possibility, and what may come of them. 

EXTRAS, EXTRAS. ↳ (Uh, I’m enlisting admin privilege?? Once game play begins, trust that there’s going to be loads of unnecessary edits flooding his account, but for right now, it’s a little bare.)