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whatsortofschoolisthis · 3 years

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Name: Wednesday Anne Drew

Gender: Female

Age: 16

Birth Date: July 1st 1973

Species: (Human, Lycanthrope, Metamorphmagus, Vampire, ect): Human

Blood Status: (Pureblood, Half-Blood, Muggleborn): Pureblood

Sexuality: Straight

Alignment: Neutral Good

Ethnicity: Irish-American

Nationality: English,

Residence: Lives in North Devon on the left side of Rubin and her cousins, the Tuttle’s live on the right. Formerly from a small town in Appalachia West Virgina.

Myer Briggs Personality Type: INTP - The Thinker.

THE MAGE

1st Wand: Beech, 11 inches, bendy, and a unicorn hair core

The true match for a beech wand will be, if young, wise beyond his or her years, and if full-grown, rich in understanding and experience. Beech wands perform very weakly for the narrow-minded and intolerant. Such wizards and witches, having obtained a beech wand without having been suitably matched (yet coveting this most desirable, richly hued and highly prized wand wood), have often presented themselves at the homes of learned wandmakers such as myself, demanding to know the reason for their handsome wand’s lack of power. When properly matched, the beech wand is capable of a subtlety and artistry rarely seen in any other wood, hence its lustrous reputation.

Unicorn hair generally produces the most consistent magic, and is least subject to fluctuations and blockages. Wands with unicorn cores are generally the most difficult to turn to the Dark Arts. They are the most faithful of all wands, and usually remain strongly attached to their first owner, irrespective of whether he or she was an accomplished witch or wizard.Minor disadvantages of unicorn hair are that they do not make the most powerful wands (although the wand wood may compensate) and that they are prone to melancholy if seriously mishandled, meaning that the hair may ‘die’ and need replacing.

2nd Wand: Cherry Wood, 12 inches, slight flexibility, and a Thestral hair core

Considered highly prestigious in Turkey, Iran, Uzbekistan, Russia, and Japan, cherry is an extraordinarily powerful wand wood and demands, to summize from Ollivander, “owners with the highest self-control and mental strength.” Though Ollivander specifies this for dragon heartstring wands, such qualities are recommended for any cherry wand owner, lest they desire for their wand to run the show.

These witches and wizards believe in fate or destiny, and so they believe things happen for a reason. There is acceptance that they don’t have complete control over what happens to them, but that they also have control over their own actions. They may be hyper-responsible as a result and may even blame themselves for events unrelated to themselves.

They try to live like every day as their last– they do not want any regrets to follow them like ghosts. In doing so, they can be honest to the point of bluntness and will try everything they can. They also try to see the beauty in everything, and believe immortality is more of a curse than a gift. As cliche as it may be– transience, to them, is what makes life on earth beautiful and worth it.

These people will fight on a day to day basis for what they believe in, which is one of the reasons for this wand’s reputation of choosing warriors. So, despite their acceptance of fate, they are a stubborn folk and refuse to yield.

With the belief of thestrals as omens and bad luck, that the wand maker and the owner must have seen someone die and embrace death as a concept, as well as the tricky nature of this core make thestral tail hair a rare core to have. Many times when a person is matched with such a core, especially in pure blood families, they will have the person try another thousand wands, just to avoid the image associated with it. However, when such a pairing is allowed to happen that witch or wizard will never find a more faithful companion. This core has potent magic, and is among the most intelligent and sentient of wand cores. Owners are social, gentle with others’ feelings, and love to have philosophic conversations late into the night. They may appear morbid to friends, and have a fascination with death. These people often have a superior sense of direction, and rarely become lost or lose their possessions. Curiously, most of the small group of known thestral hair core owners have neutral resting faces, leading other to think they are perpetually either melancholic, cranky, or tired.

Animagus: Scarlett Tanager.

Misc Magical Abilities: (Legilimen, Seer, Parselmouth, Obscurial, ect): None.

Boggart Form: A dark indistinguishable shape with red eyes and shape teeth, what a ‘haint’ might look like in Wednesday’s eyes.

Riddikulus Form: The creature turns into a dapper 1920s man dancing aggressively around

Amortentia: (What do they smell like?): Spruce forests, Cherries, and clean mountain air.

Amortentia: (What do they smell?): Exploding snap smoke, Fudge, and Pine (Jae Kim)

Patronus: American Beaver

Patronus Memory: Eating wild strawberries in her grandmother’s tree.

Mirror of Erised: A simple house with a one eared crup and a calico cat.

Specialized/Favourite Spells:

Reparo- She often breaks her glasses.

Ferula and Episkey- Spends a lot of time outdoors and gets hurt a lot.

Depulso- Will throw her enemies away with great force.

APPEARANCE

Faceclaim:

(I have no idea who this is)

Voiceclaim: Kate Micucci

Game Appearance:

Height: 5 ft 6

Weight: 140 pounds

Physique: Thin and Wiry.

Eye Colour: Blue

Hair Colour: Brick Red

Skin Tone: Light

Body Modifications: Gets a tattoo of a lobelia flower on her wrist in her fifth year.

Scarring: Miraculously, only gets one from her encounter with a manticore

Inventory: (what do they carry on them?): a picture of her baby sister Rose, her wand, an exploding snap deck, knitting needles, a handmade book of ‘Granny Magic’ spells, a bookbinding kit, and a few galleons

Fashion: Usually wears Skirt/Sweaters, a bracelet her mum got her, and her tortoiseshell glasses. Every once in a while decides to wear something wild, usually on holidays.

ALLEGIANCES

Hogwarts House: Ravenclaw

Affiliations/Organizations: Circle of Khanna, her family, and sometimes Hogwarts.

Professions:

- Magical Bookbinder at Florish and Blotts.

- Becomes a magical anthropologist and writes books/lectures about different magical traditions/systems, especially those in America. Also writes about the existence of Muggle Ghosts, usually known as shades or haints.

HOGWARTS INFORMATION

Class Proficiencies: Ghoul Studies, Magical Theory, and History of Magic

Astronomy: E

Charms: O

DADA: O

Flying: A

Herbology: O

History of Magic: O

Potions: A

Transfiguration: E

Electives:

Ghoul Studies: O.

Divination: E

Magical Theory: O

Quidditch: Ravenclaw Keeper.

Extra Curricular: Sphinx Club, Frog Choir, and Ghoul Club.

Favourite Professors:

Professor Flitwick: Trusts him with everything and tells him everything. Sees him (and Hagrid) as father figures.

Professor Sinistra- There’s really no particular reason why, she just likes her.

Professor Sprout- Reminds her of her Gran.

Least Favourite Professors:

Professor Snape- Whatever his damage is, Wednesday wishes he wouldn’t make it HER problem.

Relationships:

Brother: Jericho Jacob Drew AKA Jerry. Teams up with Danny during his initial search for the vaults and goes missing alongside him.

Misc Siblings: Her baby sister Rose age 4. Her cousins are the Ames children and Kit is also technically related. Maternal grandmother is Hannah Edelwood, she lives with the family and dies when Wednesday is 25.

Father: James Yaxley.

Stepfather: Noal Drew. She’s very fond of him and calls him Da. He’s originally from Dingle.

Mother: Ilse Drew (Nee Edelwood and Yaxley, First cousin to Saorise)

Love Interest:

Jae Kim: It’s a weird thing but they just decide they like each other and make it work.

Best Friends:

- Ben Copper

- Talbott Winger

- Tulip Kasarau.

- Tonks.

- Badeea Ali

- Charlie Weasley.

- Bill Weasley.

Rival:

- Merula Snyde

Enemy:

- Rakepick

- R

- Death Eaters.

Dormmates: (Who’s in your MC’s dorm with them?):

Tulip.

Badeea Ali.

Pets: Her calico Kneazle named Patches, Gray cat named Cranklin and a rat named Minnie. Has a toad that Jae gave her, his name is Robin. She and her mother share a Barn Owl named Specter. He is a terrible creature and despises children/teenagers.

Closest Canon Friends: Yes.

Closest MC Friends: None Yet

PERSONALITY:

- Very responsible but can be silly when she wants to be.

- Stubborn.

- Slightly morbid.

- Open Minded and welcoming to new ideas.

- Blunt, sometimes to the point where it hurts.

- Enjoys embarrassing her cousins, especially Hecate.

- A fighter, rarely gives up, but will accept whatever happens to her in spite of this.

MISC

- Witnessed her father’s death after an accidental shooting.

- Practices a mix of English magic and ‘Granny Magic’ from the Appalachian Mountains.

- Close to Sean, especially since they’re in the same house.

- Second Cousin to the Ames’s and a technical third to Kit.

- Has been living in England since she was eight. Has an American accent out of spite.

- Learned to bookbind from her stepfather, who binds books for both muggle and magic book collectors.

#harry potter hogwarts game #Harry Potter Hogwarts mystery #hphm #Wednesday Drew #I'm done making children now #I hope #found my old ipod with my old MC and ended up having to delete her #made a new one awhile ago

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garbagequeer · 5 years

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hey hello im writing a piece for laptop ensemble that involves sampling and i need the most repressed/tender/yearning quotes you got. just as gay and heart wrenching as you can. but also no pressure I know youre a stranger on the web I just feel like you post that kind of stuff a lot thank you bye

hope this isnt like too late school keeps me busy :( (also can you put a read more on asks? guess i’ll find out). i ended up choosing many quotes from the same texts cause im indecisive as shit but i’ll bold my favorites from those in case that makes it easier for you!

anyways first of all you can never go wrong w richard siken as obvious as that is. these are both from you are jeff

You’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and he won’t tell you that he loves you, but he loves you. And you feel like you’ve done something terrible, like robbed a liquor store, or swallowed pills, or shoveled yourself a grave in the dirt, and you’re tired. You’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and you’re trying not to tell him that you love him, and you’re trying to choke down the feeling, and you’re trembling, but he reaches over and he touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist, and you feel your heart taking root in your body, like you’ve discovered something you don’t even have a name for.

Let’s say you’ve swallowed a bad thing and now it’s got its hands inside you. This is the essence of love and failure. You see what I mean but you’re happy anyway, and that’s okay, it’s a love story

this one’s from planet of love (the format got fucked bc tumblr is not actually a finctional website but :/ )

I have a megaphone and you play along, because you want to die for love, you always have. Imagine this:You’re pulling the car over. Somebody’s waiting. You’re going to die in your best friend’s arms. And you play along because it’s funny, because it’s written down,you’ve memorized it,

from litany in which certain things are crossed out

I make you pancakes, I take you hunting, I talk to you as if you’re really there.Are you there, sweetheart? Do you know me? Is this microphone live? Let me do it right for once,

sorry about the scene at the bottom of the stairwell and how I ruined everything by saying it out loud. Especially that, but I should have known.You see, I take the parts that I remember and stitch them back together to make a creature that will do what I sayor love me back.

We were inside the train car when I started to cry. You were crying too, smiling and crying in a way that made meeven more hysterical. You said I could have anything I wanted, but I just couldn’t say it out loud.Actually, you said Love, for you, is larger than the usual romantic love. It’s like a religion. It’s terrifying. No one will ever want to sleep with you.

from snow and dirty rain

I had a dream about you. We were in the gold roomwhere everyone finally gets what they want.

that scene from when harry met sally where sally says:

One day I was taking Alice’s little girl fro the afternoon. I’d promised to take her to the circus, and we were in a cab playing “I spy” - you know, “I spy a lamppost”, “I spy a mailbox” - and she looked out the window and there was this man and this woman with two little kids, and the man had one of the kids on his shoulders, and Alice’s little girl said “I spy a family”, and I satrted crying, you know? I just started crying, and I went home

(like anyone else sometimes cries when u see a family doing something nice? is it because i want to participate in a sense of family of my own but have been excluded as a gay person from it’s portrayals and it makes me go :^( cause i dont feel there’s room for me there but i want there to be and i just have to long for this nuclear family heteronormative way of life that i’ve been made to believe is idylic? is it because my parents got divorced and my dad’s an ass and my mom is just a very angry lady and i want to re-do my own childhood? who knows. should we ban movies? yes we should!)

from maurice (ultimate source of tender)

“There was something better in life than this rubbish, if only he could get to it, love, nobility, big spaces where passion clasped peace, spaces no science could reach, but they existed for ever, full of woods some of them, and arched with majestic sky and a friend”

‘Did you ever dream you had a friend, Alec? Nothing else but just “my friend”, he trying to help you and you him. A friend’ he repeated, sentimental suddenly. ‘Someone to last your whole life and you his. I suppose such a thing can’t really happen outside sleep’

we are all so lucky i don’t actually own maurice in english this would just turn into me quoting the whole book

ee cummings voices to voices, lip to lip

the thing perhaps isto eat flowers and not to be afraid.

from virgina woolf’s letters to vita

7 september 1925

january 21 1926 vita writes

I am reduced to a thing that wants Virginia. I composed a beautiful letter to you in the sleepless nightmare hours of the night, and it has all gone: I just miss you, in a quite simple desperate human way. You, with all your un-dumb letters, would never write so elementary phrase as that; perhaps you wouldn’t even feel it. And yet I believe you’ll be sensible of a little gap. But you’d clothe it in so exquisite a phrase that it would lose a little of its reality. Whereas with me it is quite stark: I miss you even more than I could have believed; and I was prepared to miss you a good deal. So this letter is just really a squeal of pain. It is incredible how essential to me you have become. I suppose you are accustomed to people saying these things. Damn you, spoilt creature; I shan’t make you love me any the more by giving myself away like this—But oh my dear, I can’t be clever and stand-offish with you: I love you too much for that. Too truly. You have no idea how stand-offish I can be with people I don’t love. I have brought it to a fine art. But you have broken down my defences. And I don’t really resent it …

and on january 26 virginia writes back

Your letter from Trieste came this morning—But why do you think I don’t feel, or that I make phrases? ‘Lovely phrases’ you say which rob things of reality. Just the opposite. Always, always, always I try to say what I feel. Will you then believe that after you went last Tuesday—exactly a week ago—out I went into the slums of Bloomsbury, to find a barrel organ. But it did not make me cheerful … And ever since, nothing important has happened—Somehow its dull and damp. I have been dull; I have missed you. I do miss you. I shall miss you. And if you don’t believe it, you’re a longeared owl and ass. Lovely phrases? …

from virginia’s diary, about vita on december 21 1925

I like her and being with her and the splendour–she shines in the grocer’s shop in Sevenoaks with a candle lit radiance, stalking on legs like beech trees, pink glowing, grape clustered, pearl hung.

from virginia woolf’s to the light house

What device for becoming, like waters poured into one jar, inextricably the same, one with the object one adored? Could the body achieve, or the mind, subtly mingling in the intricate passages of the brain? or the heart? Could loving, as people called it, make her and Mrs Ramsay one? for it was not knowledge but unity that she desired, not inscriptions on tablets, nothing that could be written in any language known to men, but intimacy itself, which is knowledge, she had thought, leaning her head on Mrs Ramsay’s knee. Nothing happened. Nothing! Nothing! as she leant her head against Mrs Ramsay’s knee. And yet, she knew knowledge and wisdom were stored up in Mrs Ramsay’s heart.

Love had a thousand shapes. There might be lovers whose gift it was to choose out the elements of things and place them together and so, giving them a wholeness not theirs in life, make of some scene, or meeting of people (all now gone and separate), one of those globed compacted things over which thought lingers, and love plays.

there forced themselves upon her other things, her own inadequacy, her insignificance, keeping house for her father off the Brompton Road, and had much ado to control her impulse to fling herself (thank Heaven she had always resisted so far) at Mrs Ramsay’s knee and say to her—but what could one say to her? “I’m in love with you?” No, that was not true. “I’m in love with this all,” waving her hand at the hedge, at the house, at the children. It was absurd, it was impossible

(fun fact: the spanish translation adds something that i’d translate as “one could not say what one meant / what one wanted to say”, which i really like and i was disapointed to find out isnt on the english edition)

It was love, she thought, pretending to move her canvas, distilled and filtered; love that never attempted to clutch its object; but, like the love which mathematicians bear their symbols, or poets their phrases, was meant to be spread over the world and become part of the human gain. So it was indeed. The world by all means should have shared it

from the great gatsby

I didn’t want to go to the city. I wasn’t worth a decent stroke of work but it was more than that—I didn’t want to leave Gatsby. I missed that train, and then another, before I could get myself away (…) Just before I reached the hedge I remembered something and turned around. ‘They’re a rotten crowd,’ I shouted across the lawn. ‘You’re worth the whole damn bunch put together.’ I’ve always been glad I said that. It was the only compliment I ever gave him

from kafka’s diaries

may 27 1911: Today is your birthday, but I am not even sending you the usual book, for it would be only pretence; at bottom I am after all not in position to give you a book. I am writing only because it is so necessary for me today to be near you for a moment

parts from a from a letter he wrote to oskar pollak on february 4 1902

When we talk together the words are hard; we tread over them as if they were rough pavement. The most delicate things acquire awkward feet and we can’t help it. We’re almost in each other’s way; I bump into you and you - I don’t dare and you. When we come to things that are not exactly cobblestones or the Kunstwart, we suddenly see that we are in masquerade, acting with angular faces (especially me, I admit), and then we become sad and bored. Does anyone make you as bored as I do?

then I fall silent and you fall silent and you become bored, and I become bored and it’s all like a stupid hangover and there’s no use lifting a hand. But neither wants to say this to the other, out of shame or fear or - You see, we are afraid of each other, or I am.

Of course I understand it. It’s boring to stand for years in front of an ugly wall and it just won’t crumble away. Of course, but the wall is afraid for itself, fro the garden (if there is one), and you get out of sorts, yawn, have headaches, don’t know where to turn

You often talk with her, not only for the sake of talking. You walk around with her somewhere here or there, or in Roztok, and i sit at my desk at home. You talk with her, and in the middle of a sentence somebody jumps up and makes a bow. That is me with my untrimmed words and angular faces. That lasts only a moment, and then you go on talking. I sit at my desk at home and yawn. I’ve been trhough it already. Wouldn’t that separate us? Is that so strange? Are we enemies? I am very fond of you

from his leters to milena

Last night I dreamed about you. What happened in detail I can hardly remember, all I know is that we kept merging into one another. I was you, you were me. Finally you somehow caught fire.

jane wong. from clearing

We want to believe everything has meaning.Plums blossom over a power grid

and I am in love again. The shame of it.

from leslie harrison’s [sirens]

I’m not Penelope married to faith married to waitingbound in fine soft strands of silk dyed and stretchedin my world longing has teeth and fins has a tastefor blood longing is a room built entirely of knives

Lorde’s melodrama tour interlude

Don’t you wish you could go inside a heart, see the strings and atrium’s, everything beating and bleeding. It’s kind of funny, I spend almost every minute thinking about love. Being guided, and divided by love. But I’ve never seen it. It’s just a rumour, a comedown, an afterglow. I wanna see it, in colour. In the summer, I can almost picture it

from Andrea Long Chu’s on liking women

One day, you tell yourself, it will give you what you want. Then, one day, it doesn’t. Now it dawns on you that your object will probably never give you what you want. But this is not what’s disappointing, not really. What’s disappointing is what happens next: nothing. You keep your object. You continue to follow it around, stash it in a drawer, water it, tweet at it. It still doesn’t give you what you want—but you knew that. You have had another realization: not getting what you want has very little to do with wanting it. Knowing better usually doesn’t make it better. You don’t want something because wanting it will lead to getting it. You want it because you want it

ada limón, In a Mexican Restaurant I Recall How Much You Upset Me

But love is impossible and it goes ondespite the impossible. You’re the muscleI cut from the bone and still the boneremembers, still it wants (so much, it wants)the flesh back, the real thing,if only to rail against it, if onlyto argue and fight, if only to missa solve-able absence.

i dont think i need to get into mitski songs because you probably already know but basically pink in the night/come into the water/once more to see you/in happy when she says if you’re going take the train so i can hear it rumble one last rumble/in i want you from the first verse to the first time she goes “i just need a quiet place where i can scream how i love you” (YES the card thing is very important)/the first verse of i will (w emphasis on everything you feel is good i f you wold only let you)/abbey/strawberry blond

sufjan steven’s futile devices obviously predatory wasp of the palisades you know the drill

was going to find some twin fantasy lyrics but i started thinking about famous prophets (minds) and like. emotionally left my body so. i wont be thinking about it or any other songs anymore it makes me too crazy

from frances ha

It’s that thing when you’re with someone and you love them and they know it and they love you and you know it but it’s a party and you’re both talking to other people and you’re laughing and shining and you look across the room and catch each other’s eyes. But not because you’re possessive, or it’s precisely sexual, but because that is your person in this life and it’s funny and sad but only because this life will end and it’s this secret world that exists right there. In public. Unnoticed. That no one else knows about. It’s sort of like how they say that other dimensions exist all around us but we don’t have the ability to perceive them. That’s what I want out of a relationship. Or just life, I guess.

from ellen lee’s notes on twin fantasy that i revisit constantly

there’s no going back to deliver these words to the ones they were really meant for. That’s how heartbreak feels, I guess. It feels like your heart in between the teeth of someone who’s looking away. When you’ve lost your loved object, what happens to all the things you have to say to them? When they’re turned away, what happens to all the things that you couldn’t, but desperately need(ed) to, say to their face? He dissociates himself from his own romance until it becomes a fantasy. You have your bleeding heart, you have a finite set of memories — when nothing new enters and you’re unwilling to let go, then you have a fantasy. The loved object enters into you and transforms.

the journey home by dermot bolger(havent read this at all dont really plan to/dont know a thing about it either i just came across this shit like 2 years ago and i still think about it)

I wanted to hurt him; I wanted just to touch him. What I wanted I’m not really sure. If he had stopped and opened his arms I would have walked towards him; I would have sat on the kerb all night with him

adam b, sweet i have a (really gay) heart

i feel like my body is the extension of a lake. i feel really badabout not telling you the truth, sometimes. i feelreally small next to you. tall boys remind me of bean stalks.i wish i had your legs. i wish i could know your handsbefore i even touch them

aaaand i think that’s all i could think of and track down, hope this is actually helpful and not too long (i am indecisive no kidding). also ksjdfg it’s nice that you thought to ask me this and i did have fun going over all these quotes so thank you 💖💖💖

#answered #i hope this fits what you were looking for!!#and i hope read mores are working on mobile djfgk #c #thing #Anonymous

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