“liar.” mailan spoke as her quill continued to write on the piece of parchment that laid on the desk. taking notes felt like a CHORE lately but she knew she needed them to pass her N.E.W.Ts. time passed by too fast for her to notice for just how long cassandra had fallen asleep for. regardless, the young hufflepuff had made no attempt to wake her friend—out of compassion, for she too knew what sleepless nights felt like. restlessness lingered above her like a dark cloud, ready to explode and let it all fall upon her. “you looked cute.. i mean you always do, but you always look cuter when you’re sleeping. would you cringe if i said you were like angelic?” it is then her eyes travel to meet cassie and in her lips hides a smile. playfulness fills her brown eyes with LIFE again. “are you done inspecting the words so closely or do i have to wait two more hours in order to have my friend’s actual company?”
“ forget cringe -- i think i threw up slightly in my mouth. “ cassandra teased , tongue poking between slightly parted, chapsticked, impishly pulled lips. they’re harsh and prickly ; abrasive to people getting too close, yet mailan managed to sneak herself just in-between those carefully positioned spikes like a perfect tetris piece. chin moved to prop itself up on hardwood table, loose strands of brown curls flopping ungracefully over cassandra’s tired and slightly swallow eyes. “ oh -- f-- flitwick it’s been two entire hours? oh i’m mega screwed. more than usual screwed. i’m going to fail and be moved down to your year.
Send 🖋 and a word and I’ll tell you some headcanons relating to it! — ( * accepting. )
habits tend to imply that people live by a schedule; which is entirely the opposite of cassie
she doesn’t have a regular time to wake up; nor go to sleep. she claims that only god himself has the power to knock her out. it’s not insomnia, it’s just hard to sleep in the same room with someone whose no longer there. you get used to being with people at hogwarts, and the sudden absence of them feels a lot stronger than anything else.
cassandra has a lot of habits with her words.
she mutters under her breath, speaking to herself when she’s too unsure of the words brewing on the tip of her tongue. she tries not to do it when people are around, that’s for sure, but it’s not exactly something she can help. it’s a habit.
the muttering is also very much one of her habits when responding to someone; it’s the current lack of confidence that stops her from making the biting remarks whenever she feels that roar of bravery in her chest.
it’s growing; festering; but it’s smoking; smoldering; so quickly dampened if there’s not enough oxygen in the room for her to breathe, her friends kindling to support the lit match.
so like smoke from lips, she bites down the comments to harsh mutters and moves on.
people say that this is speaking back; but cassandra just says it’s biding her time and not being a stupid as a gryffindor.
to the hatred of almost everyone, she also picked up annoying vernacular.
it’s muggle words god forbid ; jokes, swears; you name it she knows it.
well sometimes, she doesn’t know it, not how it’s supposed to be used at the very least but she tries her hardest in some sense to use the outdated slang her friends taught her.
cassie vc: * casts depulso and says yeet * , also cassie vc: * replies to someone casting accio with yeet as well*
crackles her knuckles before doing anything ; it readies her mind – gets her in the groove to do anything,
her number one most annoying habit according to anyone is her inability to keep still. not in terms of moving, but she’s always fidgeting. with something. her main go to’s are
finger drumming / cracking out a beat on her dusk, on her legs, by just slamming them along to whatever is in her head. it’s what she does when she’s thinking, or trying to remember.
her fingers are often the solution to any situation, and the only way to deal with brewing anxieties is to start rubbing fingers like to start a fire. rubbing her thumb against her forefingers, rubbing the hem of her skirt. she’s basically ruined the sleeves of her robes and shirts and cardigans so many times throughout all her years. all of which she’s sewn back together with colourful yarns.
whenever she’s impatient, or waiting she often starts tapping her legs like crazy.
when: saturday, march 2nd 2024 .
where: the quidditch pitch .
who: @cactusheartd .
he had stopped paying attention halfway through practice, in the instant that one of shostakovich’s piano concertos began playing through one of his earbuds. by the time that it had finally ended, nikita bid his other teammates goodbye as he hovered ten feet above the ground—fingers tapping some waltz on the side of his knee. “tell me you’re as glad as i am that that was over.” nikita said as he flew by his fellow teammate, stretching neck slightly. if people had expected that the previous match between the ravens and snakes had lit a fire under him, then nikita was sure to disappoint. he stared after the last of their leaving teammates, before nodding to cassandra. “nice work today, by the way.”
cassandra had barely gotten off her broom before she started doing a quick once over the polished wood. sleek, & exceptionally shiny, indicating way too much care & way too much time. it was gwen’s broom. everyone knew that. it’s why she had awkwardly christened the broom guardian angel. ❝ dunno what you’re talking about. ❞ cassie replied with a shrug, throwing a glance over her shoulder to see nikita still floating. ❝ looked like you were having a lot of fun sitting by the goals whilst everyone else did laps. ❞ a jovial remark & harsh laugh carried over the crisp winter winds, ❝ thanks. what’s your betting on the match, you think ? ❞
Send 🖋 and a word and I’ll tell you some headcanons relating to it! — ( * accepting. )
let’s not get things wrong; cassandra, by no means, is good at art.
she’s not the next picasso; or leonardo da vinci; her work is the kind of quality you’d expect from somebody her age, it’s cute, technically unchallenging, bordering on repetitive and uncreative.
cassandra isn’t apart of the art club, nor does she share her art with anybody else unless she specifically has too.
sometimes hobbies can just be that. hobbies. not something that needs to be toiled and tortured over, where every piece is an emotionally reflective masterpiece, sometimes it can just be a tree but in the style of a vulva because you thought it was funny !!
the only time people ever see her art is the doodles she has on everything – little stick figures sewn into the hem of her skirt, or oil painting on the pockets of her trousers to the incredibly detailed sketches of the potions professor choking from shout too much at one of the gryffindors
it’s her most commonly, and favourite, destress method, and often comes with a bunch of nostalgic memories; the likes of which she’d often draw upon to summon her patronus
it was her 6th birthday in which her parents bought her a sketchpad and some pencils that were also watercolours , it was wild and she loved it and the fridge from that day on was constantly covered in cassie’s drawings.
it was a niche ! it was her niche ! sure her grades weren’t perfect, but look at this sick drawing of the sun wearing ray bans and this super cool way to draw an s! fuckin tight !
she also took pottery as a kid ;
well not really pottery, but she would go to an arts and crafts saturday school class thing every week where they would just do arts and creative stuff for the purpose of doing art and creative stuff ! painting ! pottery ! you name it !
it was just fucking around with paint and glitter and it was absolutely great
for her 14th birthday she finally got to try oil painting for the first time and it’s probably cassie’s personal favourite.
she also adores enchanting her art a lot of the time to make little animated sequences.
like forget owls, she sends people handmade birthday cards with little enchanted figures acting out entire shakespearean monologues.
her elder siblings taught her that trick; and before she turned the correct age to be using magic outside of hogwarts, would help her enchant her cards at home – specifically for every mothers & fathers day, but all out of term-time holidays included.
she’s sure the charms professor had it out for her ever since she enchanted twerking stick figures on her end of 3rd year exams because that apparently wasn’t the correct use of the charm.
where: the library.
when: march 1st, 2024.
who: open to anyone @ hogwarts
❝ -- no i -- wasn’t -- ❞ messed brown hair thrown back over her shoulders as her back snapped up straight, the sound of body slamming against the back of the hardwood chair enough to garner the attention of everyone on the right side of the library. cassandra’s eyes quickly danced around, mentally calculating the possibilities of landing in detention for three weeks before continuing to form the sentence swirling in her mind, ❝ pssh-- i wasn’t asleep, i was just ... closely inspecting the words. ❞ as if the line of ink trailing down the left side of her face from where it had been smushed into her journal helped to bolster her fibs.
❝ I aim to be lionhearted; but my hands still shake and my voice isn’t quite loud enough ❞ ZENDAYA COLEMAN? No, that’s actually CASSANDRA BONES-JORDAN. A SEVENTH YEAR student, this HUFFLEPUFF student is sided with MCGONAGALL’S ARMY. SHE identifies as DEMI-GIRL and is a HALF BLOOD who is known to be SHORT TEMPERED, SELF-CRITICAL, and IMPULSIVE but also POETIC, RESILIENT, and LOYAL. { AUDREY, 20, JST, SHE/HER }
death tw ! disordered eating tw ! running away from ur bullshit tw !
Born a Lover and a fighter / dumb ass funfacts here while i get my shit organised !
Sword lesbian
vegan
Plant mother and art hoe, loves thrifting
Generally dumb as shit, only smart when it comes to talking in 7 levels of sarcasm and irony.
Says ‘do it for the vine’ and other completely outdated slang constantly.
If you remind her vine is dead she will - unstan.
Very tech savvy, extremely upset that tech devices have been banned in Hogwarts like ?
No fashion sense whatsoever like honestly -- get her some help, stop her wearing hawaiian shirts.
Asks people their fave cryptid on a first date / is really into conspiracy theories.
Excells at repressing emotions and bottling them up into her mediocre artwork and occasional poetry and also kickboxing - healthy coping mechanism? Who needs them.
Kind of a jock but an emo jock who’s also a hipster
Tells all her secrets to her plants and exposes nothing to anybody else whatsoever
Constantly ?? day dreaming but will pretend they were doing something cool.
Kind of aloof and will not let you know anything concrete about them. ever
Deathly loyal and ridiculously strong moral compass, lawful good to a tee.
She is cactus . . . . prickly … hard 2 open up, but full of life saving liquid in an arid environment. She’s made herself strong and protected 2 hide any emotion
Will do anything for those she considers her friends but only really considers like 4 people her friend and 1 of them is no longer with us
Used to only care for peaceful protests uwu but now she’s here ready 2 throw hands 24/7
Dog lesbian not a cat lesbian.
Really into history and linguistics, loves philosophy,
Speaks a speckling of other languages but nowhere near fluent but can say i love girls in 12 languages.
Only can be called Cassie or Cassandra, the only person that called her Sandy was Gwen so now it’s a no-go. Easiest way to piss her off is call her sandy.
hufflepuff seeker ; very fast and good at flying, but known for drifting off and day dreaming instead of spotting the snitch. excels in chasing down the other seeker.
Actual bio!
Being the younger middle child always comes with it’s perks, namely, your parents already know what to expect when they’re expecting.
Brought into the world full of smiles, and she’s never stopped smiling since.
A quiet, yet content child is how people would always place Cassandra Bones-Jordan. And for that reason, she was always somewhat in the shadow. That’s what everyone always says about middle children, they’re not the eldest, they’re not leading the pack. And they’re not the doted on baby.
They don’t have it harsh, they don’t really face the struggles and tribulations, they’re just part of the learning curve.
The infamous middle children, the children that time forgot that always end up with some sort of emotional baggage to them.
And so, Cassandra had a happy, uneventful childhood. Her parents loved her, her siblings loved her, and she loved them back equally and wholly with all the love she had to give. Which was a lot.
It was good for her, to be the quiet wallflower of a girl, she may not be a star actress but she shined in the role she was given to play. So introverted, she much preferred to sit in the back of the car with headphones in and a sketchbook in hand than ever join in the conversation, stand to the side of a photograph with a soft and pleasant smile on her face.
Such a lovely girl, everyone would comment, and leave it at that, sidelined for her extremely impressive bunch of siblings.
Cassandra fitted right into that role and so she never complained, just kept her head down and nose in her sketchbook and she’d be content and happy as she could be. She didn’t like the attention, she would actively try and avoid family at any and all parties.
Thus, it wasn’t a surprise that she was eventually sorted into hufflepuff, and she would always fondly remember that moment, writing back home to her mother. She was so proud to be a hufflepuff like her mother.
Except her sorting wasn’t really all that simple. She had an extremely long hat stall, the kind of hat stall where everyone tries to take bets on where they’re going to end up kind of hat stall.
Initially, the hat had thought gryffindor. For their was a bravery, a lion, hidden in the lanky but well built frame. Covered in marble that just needed to be sculpted, it was there, but it wouldn’t just bloom like a flower, it would need to be chipped at, destroyed, and the question for the hat was: would cassandra have trial by fire? Would she be burnt at the stake? Would Troy burn around her as she screamed into the night ?
Lucky girls are hardly ever called brave girls.
So the hat chose hufflepuff, perhaps a hope for the coming generations to be spared from war like its predecessor.
The wise words she and the hat exchanged didn’t really do much to bolster cassandra’s confidence, and so, she remained as a wallflower for the first half of the first term, learning the ropes of Hogwarts.
Luckily, she had her two elder siblings there to guide her a little bit, ruffle her hair as she walked past. But she still felt vehemently within their shadows, that her name Cassandra, meant little in comparison to the Bones-Jordan that felt like an anvill on her neck.
Being such a wallflower and a hufflepuff led her to being teased just a bit in her first year - a group of no good slytherins coming over and shoving her sketchbook into a puddle in the courtyard just because. ( she would later found out ; it was because one of her siblings had annoyed them earlier. )
A muggleborn hufflepuff of the same year, gwen mcstevens - scottish, ginger and awfully freckled, came to her defense and told em to fuck off basically in the most explicit way they could manage.
A spitfire, the sun, apollo, all synonyms for gwen mcstevens.
They became close friends- like he kind of attached at the hips, never seen without each other best friends’, it seemed like y/n had finally grown out of her shell a bit. Gwen even encouraged Sandy to dye her hair ginger in their 4th year.
Cassandra was quiet (around people she didn’t like), and gwen was loud.
They were each others balancing side, whilst gwen campaigned for everything and constantly had a bone to pick with someone, Cassandra would tag along. Because she felt the same way too , she just relied on the presence of Gwen to fully express those feelings.
An emotional crutch, they were completely co-dependant on each other, and at some point in their 6th year, it became like a thing between them. Unspoken, but there was a thing that she only ever told her parents about over christmas that same year in a flood of tears.
And much like her childhood, all they did was shower Cassandra in happiness, and told her to invite Gwen around next year for the holidays
Unfortunately - that christmas never came.
A few days after the news of Harry’s and MCgonnogal’s death came out, the first few muggleborns at Hogwarts began to go missing. Gwen amongst them. It was the 13th of November, a dreery November, when things were confirmed for the worst.
Dead. She could cope with the grief of Shacklebolt, Mcgonnogal, of Harry, but without Gwen -- there was an entire half of Cassandra now missing.
It was the rug out from under cassandra’s feet, her one support mechanism, the one person who knew everything about her was gone. But not just gone, she’d been murdered. Well, she didn’t know murder, but she could feel the room, could feel the machinations taking place.
cassandra was . . . . crushed. Defeated. Numb. she couldn’t feel shit - she was catatonic for a day in her dorm room, everyone edging around her so as to not aggravate the situation. And then she was gone, just like that.
She couldn’t deal with Hogwarts, at looking at Gwen’s bed next to hers, all her stuff left untouched as it had been last week ; her pet tortoise the only movement in that corner of the dorm.
It’s not like hufflepuffs to be rash; and here it was, the chipping of the marble.
She shoved a few belongings into her satchel and made a break for it on the 15th in the night -- stowing into the darkness.
However, the destinies, the fates, claimed this story to not be a tragedy - but an epic. Her hairbrain scheme to break free failed pretty badly; she’s found the next day by [w.c] in the early hours of the 15th on the border of the school grounds - just past the owlery a few hundred metres from the edge of the forbidden forest.
Disordered eating tw start
In reality, it wasn’t fate, it was just the fact that she hadn’t eaten anything in a few days
Disordered eating tw end.
Cassandra begged for wc as they were fireman lifting them to the hospital wing to not say what actually happened, she didn’t want to deal with the drama without her crutch, nor did she want to worry her parents.
However, sitting in the hospital wing only lasted for a few hours, her desire to not worry her family trumped by the unending beating in her heart, the shaking of her limbs. this , although unknown to cassandra, was just grief.
But she had never experienced it before, or knew how to deal with it in a proper manner, so she tried to run again.
However, not having fully rested herself, her brain was fogged and her mental map of the school forgotten, and the room of requirement living up to its name, had sense a requirement in the lost bones-jordan child.
Moving through what she thought was just a normal door, Cassandra came face to face with a mirror. What should have been a paled face with sunken eyes and chapped lips, was instead replaced with stout figure with darting green eyes and firey hair.
Surprise ! it’s the mirror of erised ! what a lovely deus ex machina for us all !
And of course, it’s a grieving heart who sees what they long for the most ; gwen.
On the verge of tears, of running out the door and as far as she could -- ; perhaps it was too soon to see her again, her sun.
And maybe it was the lack of focus she had, or the iron deficiency, but she swears she heard the reflection talk to her. A manifesto to be brave ; cassandra had always followed gwen rigorously, but she did everything that gwen did. Sure, she needed the encouragement but she could always do it. She just didn’t believe in herself.
It’s the darkest hours of the heroes story ; and it's divine intervention, apollo, or thetis, swooping down from olympia with the words on wings.
It was that inspiration, that internalisation of Gwen that managed to get the courage to use her legs. Put one leg in front of the other and walk back to the hospital room, and sit back down. With no one to notice her second attempt.
The block of marble had been cut, the statue now revealed, the brave girl, the lioness, now in full force. People don’t call you brave if you’re lucky.
To keep part of Gwen with her everywhere, she decided to keep herself in everything Gwen had encouraged her to do, rather than become a hermit and avoid everything they ever did.
On a spur of a whim, she had those now, she decided to try out in the snap quidditch tryouts to replace the seeker. She got her best friends former position by some act of god, Cassandra says she plays with an angel looking over her.
She also signs up for the M.A the second she has a chance, constantly cementing herself in any role or position they needed to be filled.
Through dealing with her strife, she flourished rather than suffered, desperately trying to fill her time with extracurriculars, helping out the m.a, practising for quidditch matches.
At the same time, whilst keeping her emotions very bottled up, she’s started to act up and act out, her inability to deal with people she doesn’t like reaching sky high peaks. People would perhaps call her somewhat intolerant to blood purity ideas; and suddenly, she’s started to speak up when she hears something she finds dumb, started getting into fights and coming back to her dorm with a black eye or a bruised wrist.
It’s a level of self-preservation that’s gone too, along with any other healthy coping mechanisms. She doesn’t know how to deal with the deep seated grief that’s rooted itself to her bone marrow; but whatever she’s doing right now certainly isn’t helping one bit.
my wc page is still heavily under wip so i’ll post it in the gc when im done but the few basic ideas we got going on here are;
- the person who found her passed out in the forest ; sworn to absolute secrecy, peak drama and dramatic tension.
- other former friends of gwen who cassandra would have been friends with via proxy.
- people cassandra have absolutely gotten into a fist fight with as of late for whatever anti-muggleborn sentiment they’ve said in her presence
- love a group of people who are ... slowly going to adopt cassie into their friendship group bc she’s a loner and needs love.
- .. girlfriend (future)! crushes! you name it! she was kind of dating gwen so she ... soft angst hours ultimate edition !
- 1 ex / a guy, like the one person u date to try and convince urself your straight and it absolutely doesn’t work out and it’s kind of awkward we love heteronormativity in our kids.
