xxxFᴜʟʟ Nᴀᴍᴇ: Driskol Winston Abrams xxxNɪᴄᴋɴᴀᴍᴇs: Dris, Giraffe xxxAɢᴇ: 35 xxxBɪʀᴛʜᴅᴀʏ: October 27, 2024 xxxBʟᴏᴏᴅ Sᴛᴀᴛᴜs: Halfblood xxxGᴇɴᴅᴇʀ: Male xxxOʀɪᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ: Straightish xxxZᴏᴅɪᴀᴄ: Scorpio xxxBirth Stone: Tourmaline and Opal xxxWᴀɴᴅ: 12⅛ inch Cherry with Unicorn Hairs, Springy with a Spiraled Shaft, usually covered in paint xxxFᴀᴄᴇᴄʟᴀɪᴍ: Jon Cozart, Felix Kjellberg
xxx𝓢𝓬𝓱𝓸𝓸𝓵 & 𝓒𝓪𝓻𝒆𝒆𝓻xxx
xxxSᴄʜᴏᴏʟ: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry xxxHᴏᴜsᴇ: Ravenclaw xxxYᴇᴀʀ: 2042
xxx𝒪𝒲𝐿 𝒮𝒸𝑜𝓇𝑒𝓈xxx xxxxx⇾Asᴛʀᴏɴᴏᴍʏ ~ O xxxxx⇾Cʜᴀʀᴍs ~ O xxxxx⇾Dᴇꜰᴇɴsᴇ Aɢᴀɪɴsᴛ ᴛʜᴇ Dᴀʀᴋ Aʀᴛs ~ EE xxxxx⇾Hᴇʀʙᴏʟᴏɢʏ ~ D xxxxx⇾Hɪsᴛᴏʀʏ ᴏꜰ Mᴀɢɪᴄ ~ A xxxxx⇾Pᴏᴛɪᴏɴs ~ A xxxxx⇾Tʀᴀɴsꜰɪɢᴜʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ~ EE xxxxx⇾Aʀᴛ ~ O xxxxx⇾Cᴀʀᴇ ᴏꜰ Mᴀɢɪᴄᴀʟ Cʀᴇᴀᴛᴜʀᴇs ~ O xxxxx⇾Dɪᴠɪɴᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ~ P xxxxx⇾Mᴜsɪᴄ ~ O xxxxx⇾Mʏᴛʜᴏʟᴏɢʏ ~ O xxxxx⇾Wᴀɴᴅʟᴇss Mᴀɢɪᴄ Pʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴄᴇ ~ EE xxxxx⇾Wᴀɴᴅʟᴏʀᴇ Sᴛᴜᴅɪᴇs ~ O xxx𝒩𝐸𝒲𝒯 𝒮𝒸𝑜𝓇𝑒𝓈xxx xxxxx⇾Asᴛʀᴏɴᴏᴍʏ ~ EE xxxxx⇾Cʜᴀʀᴍs ~ O xxxxx⇾Dᴇꜰᴇɴᴄᴇ Aɢᴀɪɴsᴛ ᴛʜᴇ Dᴀʀᴋ Aʀᴛs ~ A xxxxx⇾Tʀᴀɴsꜰɪɢᴜʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ~ A xxxxx⇾Aʀᴛ ~ O xxxxx⇾Cᴀʀᴇ ᴏꜰ Mᴀɢɪᴄᴀʟ Cʀᴇᴀᴛᴜʀᴇs ~ A xxxxx⇾Mᴜsɪᴄ ~ O xxxxx⇾Wᴀɴᴅʟᴇss Mᴀɢɪᴄ Pʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴄᴇ ~ EE xxxxx⇾Wᴀɴᴅʟᴏʀᴇ Sᴛᴜᴅɪᴇs ~ A
xxxCʟᴜʙs ᴀɴᴅ Sᴘᴏʀᴛs: xxxxx⇾ Art Club {Captain} xxxxx⇾ Quidditch {Seeker}{Captain} xxxxx⇾ Drama Club xxxxx⇾ Music Club
xxxAᴄᴄᴏʟᴀᴅᴇs: xxxxx⇾ Prefect xxxxx⇾ Quidditch Captain xxxxx⇾ Art Club Founder & Captain
xxxCᴜʀʀᴇɴᴛ Eᴍᴘʟᴏʏᴍᴇɴᴛ: Owner of Synister Studios xxxDʀᴇᴀᴍ Jᴏʙ: Artist
xxx𝓟𝒆𝓻𝓼𝓸𝓷𝓪𝓵𝓲𝓽𝔂xxx xxxxx⇾Cʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴠᴇ: Above all, Dris prides himself on his creativity. Not only is he able to create works of art from something as simple as paint and paper, he's also learned to be a creative thinker when it comes to problem solving. He admires all works of creativity, and will always praise creative works. xxxxx⇾Uɴɪǫᴜᴇ: Dris believes he is entirely unique. No one is quite like him, and that thought fuels him to continue to look, dress, and act like he likes, not minding that people think him different, because differences make the human race fun. xxxxx⇾Lᴏᴠɪɴɢ: Dris is easy to love, but even more so, he loves everyone. He finds that everyone needs love, no matter who they appear to be. He loves making friends and keeping them, finding joy in all the little things. He loves life and does his best to make the world a bit better for everyone he loves. xxxxx⇾Aᴛʜʟᴇᴛɪᴄ: When not painting, Dris can be found outside running and playing. He's always got energy to burn, and likes to channel it in useful ways. He loves playing quidditch with his dads, god-dad, aunt, and cousins, but more than that, he loves moving about and stretching his muscles, even if it's only for a while. xxxxx⇾Fʀɪᴇɴᴅʟʏ: Dris is super nice and loves making and keeping friends. It's always his goal to make people smile, though he can drop the truth if it's best for people to hear. He gets hurt quickly if people say things mean to them, but he always bounces back after talking to his friends. xxxxx⇾Aᴄᴄᴇᴘᴛɪɴɢ: No matter what you tell Dris, he'll accept it. He may not understand what is being shared - at least the weight of it - but he'll always lend an listening ear. He doesn't mind things that people consider "bad" most of the time, and his open-mindedness allows him to be even more accepting, even when things go outside his belief system.
xxx𝐿𝒾𝓀𝑒𝓈xxx xxxxx⇾ Art xxxxx⇾ Painting xxxxx⇾ Music xxxxx⇾ School xxxxx⇾ Quidditch
xxx𝒲𝑒𝒶𝓀𝓃𝑒𝓈𝓈𝑒𝓈xxx xxxxx⇾ Easily Startled xxxxx⇾ Always nervous something bad is gonna happen
xxx𝒟𝑒𝓈𝒾𝓇𝑒𝓈xxx xxxxx⇾ Be the greatest painter in all the world xxxxx⇾ Raise my kids to be good humans
xxx𝐹𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓈xxx xxxxx⇾ Losing his hearing xxxxx⇾ Losing his colors
xxxℬ𝓲𝓸𝓰𝓻𝓪𝓹𝓱𝔂xxx
xxx𝒞𝒽𝒾𝓁𝒹𝒽𝑜𝑜𝒹xxx Dris was sent to Live at Wool's Orphanage at the young age of 11 months, just as he was trying to figure out how to walk and talk. He lived there until he was four, when he met Milo and Wyatt Abrams, two nice gentlemen who offered to adopt him. Of course, the boy was more than excited, and quickly packed all his belongings and moved into his new home. Once there, he met his uncles Kalin and Thane, and grew to love the family even more. When he met his Godfather, the boy was awestruck. To have gone from so little, to having so much in a family filled with love, he was eternally grateful. Now he has even more, including a best friend and a sweet baby sister, whom he loves with all his heart, if only because he remembered how hard it was to be in the orphanage and to feel unloved. As Dris kept getting older, his artistic potential began to unlock, leading him to "explore" his own creativity. It often led to him painting where he shouldn't, leading to many detentions and tellings off. Luckily, his parents were terribly encouraging, and would often go and schmooze the teachers in his defense. xxx𝒮𝒸𝒽𝑜𝑜𝓁 𝒴𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓈xxx At age 11 he was given his letter of admission to Hogwarts, and after shopping and packing, he was finally able to go. He was sorted into his dad Milo's house of Ravenclaw, and quickly fell in love, despite all his friends being scattered into other houses. At Tryouts, of course, Dris was there, and he made reserve Seeker. Unfortunately, he was called in as a chaser more often than anything else. Toward the end of the school year, Dris had a bout of sleepwalking, leading him to the Great Hall in the middle of the night, where he painted a massive mural all along one wall. Luckily, with a stroke of grace, Headmaster Steele wasn't mad, rather amused by the preteen. He was given detention while he scrubbed clean the walls. In second year, Dris became inspired by his studio and worked hard to open an Art Club for his fellow students to enjoy. He also made the starting team as a Chaser.
In fourth year, Dris finally achieved his dream of making the Ravenclaw team Seeker. He worked his tail to the bone, but only managed to win once, in his first game, no less! In the middle of the year, he got a terrible ear infection, coupled with a cold. After accidentally destroying half the paintings in his studio, he was saved by Chrys. She helped block out the sounds, then took him to the hospital wing, where he was quickly mended. After that, he took Chrys on a date, then they ended up being boyfriend and girlfriend.
The next year, he was given the title of Quidditch Captain. Somehow, while in the lead, he managed to roll out a perfect season, his team rocking as they went along. That summer, Brennie was kidnapped, leading to a boatload of family trauma. In the middle of it, he'd had a meetup with Skylar. She professed love for him, and he had to be the guy to tell her that wasn't his feeling. Unfortunately, it caused her to dissolve their friendship, which was difficult for him. Brennie was safely returned home, and his recovery led to Dris meeting Sara, the girl who ended up saving Brennie's life. In school, Dris and Sara's relationship took off, starting with art and ending in a little bit of love. Before the year ended, he asked her on a date, which she happily accepted. Graduation turned out great, and his grades ended up in good position. He was proud of himself as he finished his year.
xxx𝒜𝒹𝓊𝓁𝓉𝒽𝑜𝑜𝒹xxx As soon as he reached adulthood, Dris signed up to be the reserve Seeker for the Montrose team. He sat out a lot, but that's because James was good.... and also it was all part of plan. While helping at Loki's shop, he met a charming girl named Puck, and following an interesting lunch of crepes and painted phone numbers, the duo signed up for a second date... which led to a third and so on. He worked hard, eventually getting himself his own flat, though that was partly due to Chance and Chrys having a baby. He did, however, become co-godfather to their precious baby. He also quickly became godfather to Hikaru's adopted daughter, Hariette, which made his head spin. At one point, he and Puck had a pregnancy scare, resulting in a two-week separation, then (with help from Nan), his proposal to her. They were married the following summer and got a sweet Disney honeymoon. When they came home, Dris finally put the down payment up for an empty shop in Diagon, hoping to create a studio and shop for all his creative works.
As Dris and Puck started living the best married life, they ended up getting pregnant. They had a baby boy in 2047 and named him Lewis Jackson. Next came a daughter, Rosalinde Cicily in 2051. Finally, another son, Wendel Eliot in 2054. After that, they decided they were done, and Dris got a snip to make sure. But they spent lots of time with their kids, and all the other kids in the family. When Lewis turned eleven, Dris had a sad period, missing his oldest son. But things got better and he returned to his normal rainbow self.
xxxℛ𝒆𝓵𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷𝓼𝓱𝓲𝓹𝓼xxx
xxxLᴏᴠᴇᴅ Oɴᴇ: Magdalena Giese-Dunbar {Wife} xxxBᴇsᴛ Fʀɪᴇɴᴅ: Chrys Meadows xxxFʀɪᴇɴᴅs: Chance Whitethorne, Clara Bautista, Chrys Meadows, Jillian Faulkner, Hikaru Nakano, Lizzy Whyte, Beckah Heartwood, Skylar Macclellan(?) xxxEɴᴇᴍɪᴇs: none xxxFᴀᴍɪʟʏ: Parents: Wyatt and Milo Abrams. Godparents: James and Lyre Masters. Sister: Laili Abrams. Uncles: Kalin and Thane Findlay-Abrams. Cousins: Gertrude Wakefield, Maya Masters, and Brennie Findlay-Abrams
xxxxx⇴Pᴀʀᴇɴᴛs: Wyatt and Milo Abrams xxxxx⇴Gᴏᴅᴘᴀʀᴇɴᴛs: James and Lyre Masters xxxxx⇴Sɪʙʟɪɴɢs: Laili (and Nani) Heulwen, Quinn Abrams xxxxx⇴Cᴏᴜsɪɴs: Gertrude, Gabriella, and Grigor Stanford, Brennie Findlay-Abrams, Nasim Safi, Maya Masters, Austen Masters xxxxx⇴Nɪʙʟɪɴɢs: Meallan Heulwen xxxxx⇴Cʜɪʟᴅʀᴇɴ: Lewis Jackson, Rosalinde Cicily, and Wendel Eliot xxxxx⇴Oᴛʜᴇʀ:
xxxPᴇᴛ: A Norwegian Forest Cat named Lumi and a naked cat (Sphynx) named Picasso
xxx𝓞𝓽𝓱𝒆𝓻 𝓘𝓷𝒇𝓸𝓻𝓶𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷xxx
xxx𝐹𝒶𝓋𝑜𝓇𝒾𝓉𝑒𝓈xxx xxxFᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ Fᴏᴏᴅ: Macaroni and Cheese xxxFᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ Cᴏʟᴏʀ: Sunshine Yellow xxxFᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ Aɴɪᴍᴀʟ: Cats xxxFᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ Sᴏɴɢ: Starry, Starry Night xxxFᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ Bᴏᴏᴋ: "Quidditch Through the Ages"
xxxIɴsᴛʀᴜᴍᴇɴᴛs Pʟᴀʏᴇᴅ: Ukulele, Kazoo, and Guitar, a bit of piano xxxLᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇs Sᴘᴏᴋᴇɴ: English (British and American) xxxAᴄᴄᴇɴᴛ: South British with occasional California accent added for emphasis
Posted: Sun Nov 15, 2015 10:06 pm
✯คгtเรt✯รץภєรtђєtє✯
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xx⇴ Wʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀᴍ I?My Studio xxx⇴ Wʜᴏ ɪs ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴍᴇ?No one yet xxxx⇴ Wʜᴀᴛ's ɢᴏɪɴɢ ᴏɴ?Art Club Opening xxxxx⇴ Wʜᴀᴛ'ʀᴇ ᴍʏ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛs?Hormones can chill anytime
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Post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post
Post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post
Post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post
Post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post
Post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post
Post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post
Post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post
Post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post
Post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post
Post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post
Post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post
Post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post post
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