#eudora oc

[lemonadier]

fallout hyperfixation jumpscare

[pastelpaperplanes]

Art Dump!!

want to see me draw a floating head? want to see me do it again? want to see me do it again? want t

[puppyeared]

ouppys and kibbys

[lily-channn]

Doodles of my Kid Icarus OC

This is my girl Eudora. She’s a lil KIU OC I made about 5 years ago. I love her sm.

[ghoulgeists]

in all her morning glory

[inyujidraws]

1st | 2nd | 3rd | 5th | 6th

More RadioMoon, yay. Another OC is included. To explain the whole Voodoo influence in Alastor’s life.

Thanks everyone who came to my streams, watch me draw and talk cringe.

Creon loosened up on her “don’t stick out in the timeline” policy (it’s too late). Her crash-landing in this timeline has already impacted lots of people, including Alastor. Creon missed wearing modern hanbok from her future time, so she made her own. 1920’s flapper generation were pretty avante-garde so Mimzy would be up for wearing a few pieces. This is how Creon made extra money on the side.

Creon also learned and joined a local ballet school. She was content with whatever roles given, as long as she was allowed to dance. So Alastor and Mimzy will play “where’s Waldo” trying to guess which role Creon is dancing. Creon had a very brief career as a singer, but she didn’t want to stay in the spotlight too long. She already had plenty of that from her future time.

Creon never really thought of being a house-wife/mother. Slowly falling in love with Alastor and finding Daniel changed that. Cliche as it is, all Creon ever wanted in life was love. She was robbed of it since birth, and had a hard time holding on to any friends and family even in adult-hood. The cursed-cat Alastor doll was made after the family cat died. Creon’s crappy concept sketches and refusal to plagiarize Disney’s Stitch birthed this gremlin.

Mama Dory (Eudora) was a family friend to Alastor’s mother. Léonore only brought Alastor over after the father’s untimely death (Alastor’s doing). Eudora would occasionally baby-sit and teach voodoo to Alastor, while his mother was out working. Eudora could tell that Alastor had blood on his hands and would go down a horrible path. In canon, she would cut off Alastor in her teachings when he started using it in his killings. In this AU, Creon’s crash-landing has changed that trajectory drastically.

[straightuppotato-art]

HEY HEY HEY. we should attack each other <3

I made new art fight refs AND added two new beloveds!! Luckstel and Hina are my dungeon meshi ocs!! they're in a party with @feedgarf and @kauzeri 's ocs hehe get tagged nerds

And ofc, my three weed smoking girlfriends, Yukie Pookie, Dora Lora, and Yazzy Jazzy

[letsquestjess]

It Never Rains - Chapter 2: Shot in the Dark (Crosshair x OC)

Story summary: What was supposed to be a straightforward assassination turns into one of the most challenging bounties Crosshair has ever faced. Upon discovering that his target, Eudora Avani, was given an Andeladite stone by a fallen brother, he becomes determined to protect her and safeguard the treasure from falling into greedy syndicate hands. With a secret of its own, the stone becomes a race against time for Crosshair and Eudora as they set out to uncover its hidden knowledge and stay ahead of the bounty hunters pursuing them.

Word count: 2.9K | Warnings: Violence. Mention of blood.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 3

-- -- -- -- --

The door slammed shut with such force that the ornaments on the sideboard swayed, delicate porcelain rattling and clinking. Eudora almost motioned for them to be silent, as though the slightest sound would alert the attacker lurking outside. Closing the nets, she typed in a sequence of digits on the keypad to activate the explosives in the field and double-checked the locks. 

The house hushed. It had been years since she last used the security system, and it troubled her how effortlessly she fell back into the familiar routine. Leaning on the sturdy brick of the home her ancestors had laboriously built, she silently implored them to protect her. 

Her fingers rested on the gun fastened to her thigh, poised to react at the faintest noise as she waited and listened. Silence surrounded her like a swarm of a thousand ghosts bringing their muted realm to her as they squeezed their ears against the door. 

What had she done to provoke a targeted attack? There was no war raging, and she had managed to avoid open defiance of the Empire by politely pretending to consider their countless offers. If it were the Imperials, she knew they would have deployed a full team instead of a solitary assassin to eliminate her. They would have made a grand spectacle out of it. 

She racked her mind trying to think of who might be behind the assault, and mentally retraced her steps, analysing every encounter and interaction, but she couldn’t pinpoint anyone who would have a motive to harm her. 

Could be an opportunist, she pondered. Or one of the local organisations looking for a score on an old house.

If they were expecting money, they were sure to be disappointed. The household functioned primarily through diligent labour and commitment, with repairs being done by manual means and little credits spent on maintenance. Her family never had extra funds to spare. 

All too late, Eudora heard the protesting creak, the floorboards betraying the presence upstairs. The window, she thought. Shit, I left it open. 

She scrambled, staying low to the tarnished floor and seeking shelter in the corner between the kitchen worktop and the preparation table. The sides pinched at her shoulders and compelled her to hunch. 

With every step, the stairs groaned as booted feet trod on their tired planks. A pair of tight trousers came into view. Eudora leaned in closer to glimpse the grey-haired head and irritable scowl that searched for her. His eyes scanned, one encircled by a crosshair tattoo. Gloved hands cradling his sniper rifle, he tapped at the grip. 

If she could make it to the dining room, there was a hidden hatch. A network of ancient tunnels ran beneath the healer farm and the outskirts of town, offering her a promising route out. All she needed to do was-

She let out a screech as she was yanked by her hair out of the gap and flung onto the hard ground. She braced her palms, anticipating the impact. Executing a well-timed leg swipe, she connected with the towering assailant and sent him sprawling. After a chaotic brawl and numerous failed attempts to land hits, she summoned her remaining energy to shove him aside and retreated, the gun grazing her thigh as she swiftly raised it into position. 

Unfortunately for her, the attacker matched her response. The taste of blood persisting on his tongue, he mustered the strength to stand up, keeping the rifle barrel trained on her. There was no fear in her as she faced him, just a fierce glower that seemed to taunt him into squeezing the trigger. In his line of work, he rarely encountered bounties who pleaded for mercy. Most were unaware of his presence until it was too late, but on the rare occasions it happened, they would tremble, shielding themselves with lifted hands, avoiding the impending darkness that awaited them. Seemingly, not this one. 

“You fight like a brawler,” the assassin drawled. 

“I learned from the best,” Eudora retorted, tightening the firm hand on her weapon. “You can either get out or get shot. Frankly speaking, I don’t care which.”

The sniper rifle clicked as he altered the firing mode and inched it closer to her face. “Not if I shoot you first. I came here for something specific.”

“Whatever it is, you’re not getting it.”

As Eudora distanced herself from the barrel, her loose-fitting cardigan slumped further down her shoulder, exposing the pendant nestled below her collarbone. In a single moment, Crosshair’s eyes locked onto it, figuring out in an instant what it was and why he had been sent to retrieve it. It was certainly going to complicate matters, there was no doubt about that. 

“That is an Andeladite stone,” he stated, sliding the end of his sniper underneath the dark twine that grazed her throat to lift the polished rock. “Clones used to find them in the ocean on Kamino and carve them. Many were lost, so they are quite the rarity now. That could fetch you thousands of credits with the right collector.”

While studying his face, Eudora noted the subtle creases surrounding his intense, amber gaze, and couldn’t shake the striking resemblance that she had encountered countless times before. “You’re a clone?” 

“You got that quicker than most,” Crosshair snarled. Due to the nature of his job, he was well acquainted with derogatory comments, particularly about his creation or his previous work with the Republic, but the way she posed the question seemed more surprised than degrading. “Here is how things are going to go: You will hand over the Andeladite stone, and then I’ll leave you in peace. If you lie low and stay quiet, you might have a chance at remaining alive.”

In truth, once Crosshair learned his target was an Imperial, their identity became irrelevant to him; they were as good as dead. But there was something different about Eudora that set her apart from the typical Imperials he hunted. If anything, in his observation of the dilapidated house, all he saw was a lonely woman struggling to survive. The Andeladite stone was what his client desired. Was it necessary for him to take her life, especially when she didn’t appear to have any ties or sympathies towards the Empire?

“You’re not taking the stone,” she asserted, clutching it close. 

“What does it matter to you?”

“More than you will ever know.” 

“Worth losing your life over?”

Despite the tears clinging to her bottom lashes, Eudora gritted her teeth. “Yes. It was given to me.”

“By the clone who carved it,” Crosshair guessed, as he lowered his rifle and tested the waters before moving closer and crouching down to his target. Her leafy eyes fixed onto him like the laser from his scope, and he admired her fierce tenacity in the face of a bounty hunter and a trained soldier. 

“You do a good job of masking the fact that you’re one of them, but you share many features that are impossible to conceal,” Eudora remarked, almost in an observant mutter to herself. “If your intention is to kill me, shoot me and be done with it.” 

Nothing tempted Crosshair more than a challenge. What he didn’t expect was the passionless kiss of her gun as she grazed it over his stubble covered chin. “I’m quick,” he warned. 

“Prove it.” Sustaining the slightest pressure on the trigger, Eudora remained steady as the sniper begrudgingly raised his hands and dragged on his heels to support himself to his feet. 

“I won’t harm you, and I won’t take that stone if one of my brothers gave it to you,” Crosshair assured her. “But others will come after you for it. When the syndicate collector who employed me discovers my failure, they will hire someone else. They are not going to offer the same level of mercy as me.”

With her weapon and her glower still pointed at him, she got herself up. “Why?” she demanded, her resolve weakening as the gun started to shake. Bounty hunters were ruthless murderers. They didn’t ask identity or nature, just where and how much. “Why spare me if others are going to come after me, anyway?” 

“Because I know who gave you that stone,” Crosshair replied. “If he handed it over to you, there must be a purpose behind it. I’d advise you not to stay here. It’s no longer safe for you.”

“What am I supposed to do? This is my home. There is no other place for me to go.”

Hobbled by the injuries sustained during their scuffle, Crosshair gingerly moved across the kitchen. He swung the door open, giving the wind free rein to rustle the linen decorations and tease the loose ornaments. He peered back at Eudora, hair tousled, knuckles white, ready to fight if need be. “That is a problem for you to solve,” he said, stepping out into the night to blend into the darkness, wishing the mission had been the Imperial target he was promised. The uncomplicated life he had attempted to create fell apart the instant he set eyes on that stone. Now, his conscience had something else to latch onto other than his siblings. Now, he would have to come up with a convincing explanation for his failure and hope it would be enough. 

* * *

Eudora’s shoes squeaked on the kitchen tiles as she paced the peeled squares. Despite the dips in the flooring trying to trip her, she honed in on the sensation of the smooth pendant between her thumb and forefinger, as if the answer would materialise with enough manipulation. With each concentrated twist, the engraved symbols on the stone spun faster, blurring into the surface, barely given a moment to rest before swiftly darting in the opposite direction.

She couldn’t leave. She was resolute about that. 

This was her home. Every aspect of her life was contained within those walls, from the mismatched brick to the deteriorating beams. In her childhood, she toddled across that floor, played on those carpets and drenched them in rain when seeking refuge from a storm. She had scribbled her imagination on the wallpaper before she’d even taken her first steps after snatching an overhanging pen, and dusted and cared for the ornaments her grandmother collected once those years were behind her. This house was not just her, it was her family. 

She couldn’t leave. 

But her home was no longer safe. There was a target on her chest and criminal organisations willing to snatch her life away for a stone they coveted for rarity’s sake. The bounty hunter grasped the importance, but solely because he was a clone. The next person who came after her would not show any regard for her or the precious treasure they were assigned to retrieve. 

Her eyes wandered over the motionless faces in their frames observing every anxious pace. She stopped as she reached her aunt, beloved, gone, and beaming as though granting her approval to leave. “I don’t want to,” she whispered to her through the tears. “I belong here in my rightful home. This is wrong, this is all wrong.”

In a state of panic, she held onto her head, desperately hoping that this was all just a terrible dream and that the blare of her alarm would hand her back over to to the waking world.

As her situation weighed on her, the gravity of reality began to sink in. Droplets trickled down her shaking hands, pursuing a trail down her arms until they spent themselves near her elbows. 

Eudora’s tear-stained face lifted from hiding, and she mopped up the mess of tears with the hem of her shirt. She steadied the rapid rise and fall of her chest, drawing in the scent of her neglected dinner and the metallic tinge of blood. She couldn’t afford to panic, not in this crucial juncture when her life was still on the line. Although the bounty hunter would not have confessed his failure to his guild yet, they would soon learn of it. Fortune offered her some time, but only a little. 

Resolved and steadfast, she removed her scarf from the coat rack and draped it around her shoulders. Her mother’s handiwork hugged her close, frayed, grey threads sticking out and stitches becoming slack after years of use. It kept her warm during the toughest winters, and now it provided a comforting sense of security. Her family would keep a vigilant watch over her. If someone didn’t, she feared she would soon join them in their eternal rest.

The moment she stepped outside, the brisk night air bit at her, painting her cheeks a rosy pink and whipping at her jacket. Invisible hands reached into her, stirring at her nerves, but she refused to let them prevail, no matter how strongly she felt it. The world had made her lonely. She would not permit it to instil fear in her too. 

Streets that usually grappled to hold the bustle during the day lay deserted and bare, storefronts shuttered and weathered market stalls packed away. Where once the quiet contained her laughter as she staggered out of a club with her brothers in the early hours of the morning, it now carried unspeakable horrors. Each shadow resembled a silhouette observing her, and every noise sounded like another bounty hunter locking in and taking aim. 

She felt the patter of the Andeladite stone on her chest as she walked, tracking time with its rhythmic beats. The clone who presented it to her had placed it into her hands so delicately that she might have easily forgotten he was a soldier. She would forever remember the glint of hope as he made a vow to return someday, when peace replaced the chaos of conflict. He’d given his word that they would reunite, that he would traverse the grounds of Cressina with reverence, as though embarking on a long-awaited journey to retrieve the stone and see her again. 

And like a fool, she waited, listening to news about the end of the war and a new Empire, all the while waiting for a man who never appeared. She regretted her optimism in expecting his return and week by week grew more worried at his inability to fulfil his promise to her. 

Upon entering the bar, she was met with the overwhelming aroma of disinfectant and potent liquor, locked in a battle for dominance. After years of exposure to strong medicinal odours, she hardly noticed them anymore, but whatever substance had been used certainly endeavoured to catch her attention.  

She descended the stairs and found a seat at the bar, resting her forearms on the unblemished counter. The lean bartender groaned as he straightened up from the pile of boxes to welcome his patron. 

“Edie,” he greeted, plastering on a friendly grin and massaging his lower back. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you. Want your usual?” 

“Not tonight, Res,” Eudora said, low and quiet. “Do you have any ships heading out soon?” 

Res scratched at his bristled moustache and slung the damp cloth onto his shoulder. “Give me a second. I’ll have a look.” From beneath the bar surface, he withdrew an outdated holo-pad, sucking audibly on his teeth as he scrolled through the logs. “Got nothing for a few weeks. I can book you on one of those if you want.”

With a shake of her head, Eudora cautiously surveyed the other customers, her focus darting to the corners as if anticipating a deadly attack from people she had known all her life. “I need it for tonight,” she insisted. “Are there any ships that I might buy?” 

“Yeah, but they’re way out of your budget.”

“I…” Urgency rose in her, and she angled herself away from the groups of customers drinking and quietly conversing. “Best I can offer is my aunt’s antique speeder and any additional credits. I know you’ve had your eye on it for a while.”

That seemed to grab his interest. His long fingers drummed on the bar top as he contemplated the transaction, broad lenses reflecting his intrigue. “Look, I will see what I can do, but first, I want to understand why you are in such a hurry. If you’re in some sort of trouble, I’m here to help. Heck, most here would considering everything you’ve done for us.”

In that moment, Eudora wanted to pour her heart out to him. To place faith in the man she had trusted since childhood, who had been a family friend for as far back as she could recall.

After losing their stock in an accident, he selflessly offered them his own inventory, free of charge, to use in their cleaning medicines. She still saw that same kindness in him now. At that time, she had been a child, unable to grasp the value of his generosity, but over the years, it stayed with her. Despite all the challenges and turmoil in her family, he remained loyal to them. 

Cressina had plenty of people like him who were ready to lend a hand at any second. The war had brought them together in most respects, and they were always willing to share resources whenever someone needed help. But this was different. Every person she roped into her troubles she exposed to the same danger she was in. Bounty hunters showed no hesitation in causing harm to anyone who interfered with the pursuit of their target. 

“Eudora, has something happened?” Res asked, the wrinkles in his forehead burrowing deeper as his worry extended across his narrow features. 

“No,” she lied. “Not yet.” 

If you would like to be added to the taglist, feel free to send me a message or leave a comment (18+ only for later chapters. I can’t add you to the list if your bio doesn’t indicate your age).

[sarcasticbeanie]

OUGH….. thank you capcom,,,,,,, for the free food… (character creator demo)

[toontowncreepypasta]

Ayyy so ive been working on finding a project i could work on thats low effort enough not to cause my hand more damage. Worked on a concept way indulgent. what if the warriors of hope (from that one game) were real kids and the WOH were their self inserts they roleplayed online. and now they're all grown up. had to do something with all that stupid dr knowledge in my head

[oneshimaru]

condensed oc lore! Always and Eudora ... the parallels

[puppyeared]

auggie!!

[terrovaniadorm]

My part of my art trade with @anevilbunnyinthehat ! Eudora is very cute and very fun to draw!

[avas-wonderland]

Pre-timeskip edit!

(Reblogs are okay, Pr0ship/C0mship DNI)

Taglist: @fluffyselfships @letsgofoletsgo @toasty-self-shipping @self-shipping-shenanigans

[arts-butthound]

Letters to Ominis

Summary: The trio have graduated Hogwarts and life has set each of them to the wind on their own. However, Eudora and Ominis continue to write to each other after the summer...

Word count: 5k+

Tags: Ominis x F!Hufflepuff student, fluff, they like each other but don’t know that the other likes them back.

part 2

Read on AO3

September 27th, 1893

To Mr. Ominis Gaunt-Archivist Extraordinaire,

It has only been a few short months since we last saw each other and I have thought of you every moment I’ve had that was truly mine. I often think about the three of us in France together, taking in the sunset as the waves crash against the shore. Of your encouraging promises to write me-and I do expect you to keep your word.

Despite the valley still smelling of summer, the school year has started, as has my aid to Professor Howin. 1st years eagerly line up to pet the puffskeins, 2nd years attempt to hide pretty shinies from nifflers, and 3rd years are being promised that by mid term-they will have learned to approach hippogriffs. I’m sure Highwing and Nocturne will be on their best behavior when the time comes.

It’s only been a few weeks and the halls are alive again as they ever were. Our poor grounds keeper is already discretely drinking away his mourning for his freshly mopped floors. Despite all the life around me, the halls feel awfully empty without all my friends here. It is as if I still see you, Sebastian, and myself running through the halls or hiding from Peeves. I’m so very grateful for the two of you. You made what I feared would be a very lonely school life into something of I could have never expected. Imagine going from telling cattle your deepest darkest desires for all of fifteen years, to suddenly being thrust into the care of people so wildly enthusiastic for your company. If it weren’t for Poppy, in her last year, I should expire of lonely nostalgia in the absence of you all, you and Sebastian especially.

A second year Gryffindor seems to have formed an attachment to me. I think he may have some very weighty things on his young mind and I only hope to be a comfort to him.

I argue with the keeper’s portraits constantly. Apparently preserving the thought processes of hundreds of years ago has its drawbacks. In my staying to study the repository “again, for the third year” has me in the running to become the new Isidora, and a threat to their precious secrets. There are many times I begin to understand her frustration, though not her means. My theories are often shot down, and there are days where they keep me from the repository completely. I’ve begun to find Silencio to be a very handy spell to have on hand. Deek, the house elf, has very kindly continued in helping me try to uncover what exactly this magic is and why it is so dangerous.

I hope your training in the Ministry is going well and that they are treating you well. And that you’re eating enough...and sleeping enough, though that shouldn’t be so hard for you. I expect to hear of all the terribly wicked gossip that comes across your desk. Withholding what is too historically salacious, of course. Far be it from me to get you into trouble, for that has always been Sebastian’s chief delight.

I have written him but I suppose his studies keep him busy, for I have not heard word back from him yet. Professor Hecat appropriately caught me sulking about it and assured me that it is most common for an Unspeakable to be out of contact for periods of time. I hope Sebastian is well and taking care of himself. I fear his obsessive tendencies, even being that they are an aid in his new career.

Please write back to me soon, Ominis, for my world is darker for lack of your company,

Your friend,

Eudora

 October 4th, 1893

To Miss Eudora Ferguson- animal care-taker extraordinaire,  

I fear I have little to tell concerning salacious history, for I am too lowly to have such things cross my desk as of yet. In years to come, I shall remember to share all I can.

My work is straight forward enough and my days repeating. I wake up, I eat a small something, leave my rented room and spend all day as courier to officiate documents before they are filed away. I come home well after dark, eat another small something I picked up on the way home, and sleep. It isn’t much, but it is honest work. Without the influence of my family, it is wholly my own doing. Tossing around the Gaunt name does not hold as much water as it did with Professor Black, I’m at no loss to say. Honestly, if people learn of my family name, they have a tendency to become distant. I will show them, given time, that I am nothing like the rest of the House of Gaunt. Fret not, pet, for I care for myself as best as I am able.

For as much comfort as you were to Sebastian and I during our time at Hogwarts, I am sure you will be nothing but a heavenly reprieve for your new young friend. As for the portraits, I’m afraid I have no mind to give advice on such things. Those who made up their minds centuries ago aren’t likely to change their minds when only their portraits remain- for there is no mind to change anymore. Keep at it with your persistent determination and I’m sure you will make a discovery eventually. If silencio is your one comfort with them, then let it be so.

I have not heard from Sebastian myself, though the two of us perhaps don’t reach out with letters to each other such as you do. Try not to worry. I’m sure his head is firmly glued to his desk and surrounded by towers of books, if that is indeed how Unspeakables operate. I’m sure the loss of Anne last year has only kicked his obsessive tendencies into a higher power. He will come up for air eventually and we will hear from him. You and I are all the family he has left after all.

Take pride in your efforts but do try not to stretch yourself so thin. I’d hate to receive news that you’d caught fever again.

Yours affectionately,

O. G

October 13th 1893

My dearest Ominis,

You are right, I shouldn’t worry about Sebastian as I do. However, making sense of things rarely allows the heart to change and I will continue to worry about him, more than likely, until I hear from him.

I received the rare letter from my mother yesterday, voicing a great many concerns that I have heard time and again. It seems to vex her that I am still in contact with you and Sebastian without any understanding of marital intentions. She worries that my reputation will be forever sullied and that I shall be labeled as a loose woman that only rakes will seek out but never respect. To her, it was bad enough that we were friends when I had just come of age to be in society, “running around as a young boy with skinned knees and muddy clothes” as she said. But now she fears that I am to lose much more than my dignity on the subject now that I am a young woman of marrying age. She so rarely seems to be in contact just to lend her maternal warmth and good wishes it seems. It’s times like this where it is revealed how oppressive the muggle world can be, how closed off from even each other they are. It is almost the 20th century, yet still men and women cannot be simple friends without something sordid going on in the background. The wizarding world is very different in that way.

You and Sebastian have always been protectors of my dignity and image and have never once been uncouth towards me. No matter how often I tell her that, she refuses to believe it. I can never seem to find the words that would soothe her misgivings. I even told her when you headed off Garreth Weasley in fifth year for persuading me steal for him (though I left that part out.) How he couldn’t be in the same room with you for two weeks without watching your every move in terror. Nothing helps, I’m afraid.  She’s says that she trusts me, but her every other action and fear would suggest otherwise.

Professor Onai and I both got a letter from Natty recently. She seems to be taking Auror training with all the brass she brings to any ambition of hers, though she does admit to soreness and an odd sense of paranoia. She did also mention that her trainers warned all their trainees about that. Professor Onai got that same crease in the middle of her brow that she gets whenever she’s worried, but a cup of hot tea and stories of the old days seemed to calm her.

A small brown cat seems to have taken a liking to me recently. He follows me around the school as a duckling might its mother, crying insistently until I pick him up. He’s quite the scarf and I have thus decided to name him as such. He has also learned where my living quarters are in the castle and will yowl at the door until I allow him in. He’s quite the talkative little man. He settles on the rug in front of the fire place and will join me in bed once I settle in. I must say, I’ve grown quite fond of him in this short time.

Opal the mooncalf gave birth again, this time to twins. Her husband seems quite pleased.

Are you excited for Halloween? I love it when the castle is cluttered with carved pumpkins and leaves fall, crunching pleasantly underfoot. I fondly recall you cursing each jack-o-lantern that dared to trip you in the halls. I spent the evening in Hogsmeade at The Three Broomsticks, crouched over a hot butterbeer, perhaps two days ago. I had come there with Poppy, but she seemed thusly entertained by a young musician and left me alone at the table. Miss Sirona and I could only eye each other with all too knowing grins. I’m sure it won’t be a lasting distraction, but it was good to see Poppy continue to work to connect with more people. Poppy and I walked home as fat snowflakes fell on top of us. I daresay that I was ready for another hot butterbeer by the time I got back to my chamber.

Do keep warm,

Eudora.

October 20th 1893

My dear Eudora,

Damned pumpkins. The Ministry building was flooded with them, too! As if the floor-ways weren’t crowded enough as is. You’ll be very entertained to read that I nearly twisted my ankle several times tripping over the wretched things, or toppled over them after being pushed into them. I shall be more than happy to see them disappear after Halloween.

Are you still insisting on referring to breeding pairs of animals as husband and wife? Truly, the sorting hat knew what it was doing by putting you into Hufflepuff. Your sentimentality knows no bounds. I don’t think mooncalves even mate for life, if given the chance. Opal and Stanley only stay that affectionate because they are the only breeding adults you seem fond enough of to keep. I can easily imagine you marrying your childhood toys together when it suited you. A precious imagining, indeed.

I’m sorry the letter from your mother wasn’t kinder. At least you know she worries out of love for you. It’s hard to understand how she ever married a wizard, with all her fretting of magic. But out of a strange union came you, so at least she did one careless, beautiful thing in her life. Let her not worry you about other’s perspective of you. Friendship between the sexes has been a long time occurrence in the wizarding world. I’m more than happy to say that I haven’t heard from any in my family since we graduated. I would have it no other way.

You’ll be comforted to know that an old clerk woman in my department seems to have taken a liking to me. She’s ancient and smells of mothballs. I’d dare say, when those odorous things came on the market, she filled every foot of her home with them. She’s even kindly placed a handful in my palm sometimes, when she’s feeling sentimental. Tells me I remind her of her son, and that he would always get holes in his suits from the little devils. Sometimes she sends me home with a portion of a homemade meal. She’s not a fantastic cook, but then neither am I, so I remain appreciative.

Thinking of you often,

O.G.

October 28th 1893,

Dearest Ominis,

‘One beautiful and careless thing in her life.’  I can’t tell if you’re trying to flatter my mother or me. Do be careful sir. A man could cause terrible things to stir within a woman, sounding as you do. The women of London would have no idea what would become of them, should you begin to skulk about their dance parlors. Secret dancer that you are, it is truly a shame you have no taste for conversation, or new company. Whether or not you talk to people, you’ll find that they find you handsome, if not intimidating…much like a certain Mr. Darcy that I know of.

Peeves seems to have set his sights on me. The other day, whilst I was doing my laundry, all my freshly cleaned undergarments had disappeared. A moment later, I could hear his howling laughter down the hall.  They appeared two days later, hung amongst the bells in the bell tower. If you imagine my embarrassment at retrieving them, then you have only imagined a third of it. Professor Weasley found out at threatened to banish Peeves from the castle…to which he threatened to set the castle on fire. Again. To which Professor Weasley threatened to summon the Bloody Baron. Peeves conceded and sulked away. At least I got my underwear back, I suppose. I will have to be more watchful in the future, should I become a regular target of his.

I have learned a new great joy in life and it is challenging Professor Black as an equal rather than as a student. I caught him berating another ‘lesser’ student since last I wrote. The poor child had been being tormented by a pack of thoughtless pure-blood students, and Professor Black thought he could degrade this poor child further. I stood up to him, put my arm around the child, and told him that if he felt so important sticking his nose up at children, perhaps it would make him bigger still to use that same tilt at a adult able to match him. I decided to berate him back, in the most respectful manner of course. It took the wind clear out of his sails, and he scurried back to his dark little office. I don’t know how often I should use this against him, as I do recall his power over my station here at the school. But I also know my own cards that I can deal against him.

I’ve formed a theory on ancient magic recently, though I’ve yet to be anywhere close to proving it. It was ancient several hundred years ago. Perhaps what makes it ancient is that it is older than human magic? With the things I’ve been able to do with it, how I saw it used in the pensieves; much of it seems to have similarities with modern magic, but with an extra something. With Deek helping me…perhaps it’s just me over thinking., but what if this ancient magic, and what elves are able to do with their own magic are somehow related? How then some humans are able to see it, I haven’t the slightest. My theory is too new and may very well be totally wrong. The portraits are of no help and still cling to their fear of understanding what it is. I don’t understand how one of the keepers could see it, wield it for such powerful good, and yet be so averse to understand why or what it is. One needs to understand why a thing is dangerous, what about it must be avoided. We understand dark magic for a reason, why not the same for ancient magic? We praise and swear by Merlin, and more than likely, he would know what this magic is-or at least been keen to know.

That young Gryffindor boy continues to impress all his teachers, and infuriate them. He has quite an intellect and thirst for knowledge. I dare to say that he would rival even Sebastian’s own pursuits. He’s quite an angry young man, I must say, but there is grief in his anger too. To distract him from his thoughts, I’ve sent him on small hunts through the castle that-to my pride- sometimes take him a few days to find his goal. By the time he is a 6th year, I dare say he will have an unflappable mental map of the entire school. Professor Weasley has taken to kindness towards him as well and he rewards her with high marks in her class. I hope that Hogwarts brings some comfort to him as it did me.

How is your work going? Are you adjusting to London well? I pray that your mothball madam is keeping you well fed. You give me so few details on your life there that I feel I must prompt you.

Are you well?

Eudora.

November 5th 1893,

Eudora,

I can scarcely believe I allowed you to read that book to me and that I even remember as to what you’re referencing. If I remind you of that Mr. Darcy, I should consider that a mark against my character. He was a rather formidable foil to Elizabeth until he pulled his head from his ass, and I should pray that I am not near so needlessly difficult.

I have always praised your character. Flattery or no, it is the truth, for you are very careless.

I beg you not antagonize, nor impassion Professor Black. Spineless as he is, witless as he is, he is still a powerful man. Whether or not you think your victory in the recent goblin rebellion will give you a better standing in wizard society, pure-blood families will always have the power to quash that what threatens them! They always have and I don’t see that changing in the near future. I could not bear to know that you were one of those wonde Don’t make me live to see you disappear. Don’t ask me to bear that. Take caution.

If Peeves were tangible, I should strangle the lout for his lack of propriety and decorum. Making an acquaintance with the Bloody Baron should suffice to keep Peeves at bay. Peeves is terrified of the Baron. He’s not so terrible, once he allows you passed the persona; the man is prideful and hot tempered, but during my time in Slytherin house, I had a handful or two good conversations with him.  If you are seen in his company, I’m sure Peeves will never pull such a stunt against you again!

Your theory has merit, though I don’t know how you could prove such a thing, or how well the rest of wizarding society would take it. Especially with ancient magic being such a closely kept secret. It is a shame that Sebastian is still missing from our company, for he would likely be of great help to you. Keep the thought in your pocket, perhaps strings of it will lead you elsewhere.

As for life in London…my dear, you crave the words of a novelist I fear, for which I am not. The streets are crowded and I’ve had to take to being rather cunning on how I use my wand to navigate. The air is more dense and unpleasant to anything I have ever before breathed. While crossing a road, a carriage nearly ran me over two weeks passed. Were it not for a kind civilian, I would have been trampled. The carriage owner and driver were never identified, to my knowledge. It is quite loud. I sit here struggling of what else there is to say. It is fairly monotonous, my work is not exciting. But it is simple and it is earned and I work every day to shed my coworkers preconceptions of my family name. Those who know of the Gaunts have whispered to those who previously did not.

You were always the adventurer, Eudora, and will no doubt collect more stories in your life than I will. I feel I have had more than my fair share as it is.

Adventure safely,

O.G.

PS: Don’t phrase it as mothball madam, I beg of you. The implications are horrendous.

November 18th 1893,

Truly, Ominis

If you believe Mr. Darcy needlessly difficult, you did not understand him or his world view. Irritating, or painful though his actions were to Elizabeth, they were meant as a kindness to those he cherished. Damn the rest of the world. I believe I recall you damning the rest of the school to help Sebastian and me out of our blunders…if only to chide us yourself later.

You could have told me about the carriage incident weeks ago, you realize? Who would have informed me if something happened to you, especially with you so nonplussed to speak about your life there? Do you tell anyone of Sebastian or me so that we can help, or worse- be notified, if something happens? Especially with your wand hidden as it must be, I can’t imagine that makes navigating any easier. I’m very glad you weren’t hurt. I should be torn asunder were something to happen that took you away from me, Ominis. You are important in my life and I would see it that you never be parted from me it.

You have such a way with words. I feel as if I know London intimately thanks to your description, truly! Should I ever visit the city on my own, I know I shall be familiar with all your favorite haunts. At least I know to pack perfumed handkerchiefs as a precautionary measure.

The winter holidays are fast upon us and I can scarcely believe it. Before I notice it, a new year will be upon us. Students are beginning to make holiday plans, whether they are staying at the castle or going home to their families. It’s a little early, but still students titter. I suppose I’ll be expected to go home to mother. I can leave Scarf and the other animals in Deek’s gentle care. Mother will be wanting to bring me to winter community dances and introduce me to fine and well established farm hands in efforts to begin to find me a suitable husband. Of course, he will be a muggle. Either she fails to realize that his being introduced to my being a witch will be imperative, or she is still trying to close me off from my father’s inheritance. The only reason I’d want to go home is to steal away with my favorite cow and come back to Hogwarts, which is now more of a home than my mother’s farm, and I do miss Kilt the cow a great deal. Of my two choices, staying at the castle comes easiest, though not most preferred. I’m told that Natsai will be coming to the castle for the holidays to visit with her mother, so I suppose I won’t totally be without company (as Poppy plans to go home to her grandmother.) I had thought, at the beginning of the school year, that you, Sebastian, and I might reunite for the holidays. But that doesn’t seem likely.

I also had hopes that one of us would have heard from Sebastian by now and I am sore for his company. I continue to send letters to him but they remain un-responded to. Whatever research and training he’s doing better be well worth the chiding he will get when he does finally appear! In the dark of night, when I think of it, my mind gives such sharp pains to the thought of losing contact with him permanently. Where could he be, do you think, that should keep him from us this long? Four months is such a dreadfully long time. I have tried to persuade Professor Hecate to tell me something of the work of an unspeakable, that way I might understand what stops him from writing. She is a wall as she ever was.

I hope you’re keeping warm as it gets colder at night. Scarf is growing into quite a large cat and has been enjoying a whole side of the bed to himself…of course, that is until I settle down into the covers and he climbs on top of me to sleep, tucking his face under my chin as he does.  He’s very warm.

I still go to the undercroft sometimes, when I’m feeling lonely. I miss dearly our late night talks there, or when you and Sebastian were kind enough to let me share my favorite books with you. Always after curfew or Sebastian would set to complaining. It still smells musty and sometimes I think I smell you. Perhaps I am overly nostalgic. Perhaps that, due to my late arrival to the school, I wasn’t quite ready to leave when everyone else was. A part of me still feels that we should all be here. But I think I just miss you.

Goodness me, would you listen to the sap I’ve devolved into! This is probably why I shouldn’t write to you late at night, when all my thoughts go to wondering without supervision. I do apologize sincerely. I seem to have taken my self-reflection out on you. Perhaps I won’t send this letter and rewrite it tomorrow when I have my senses returned to me. If I do send this to you, please don’t think ill of me. I’m sure my next letter will be much less…whatever this was, and I will return to telling you of witty adventures and theories.

Have patience with me,

Eudora.

December 2nd, 1893

My most sincere Eudora,

Blasted bird. I apologize for the lateness of my letter, it would seem the owl became either horribly turned around or forgot where it was supposed to go. I only just received you letter this evening as I was walking home from work.

Please think nothing of your wondering mind, for it does not offend me. In fact I must thank you for sending your last letter unaltered. Your heart was always truthful and holding back your thoughts did only make you ill of soul and body, if I recall. If you feel lonely, tell me so. Should you feel joyous, allow me to share it. If your righteous anger burns, tell me to whom I should hurl my vitriol towards. You need never fear honesty between the two of us.

Should it please you to hear it, I also miss our reading hours in the undercroft, whether your choice of book was terribly romantic or deviously adventurous. I come back to my room and it is quiet and without the familial warmth I found in Sebastian, Anne, and even you. You had such a way of reading that one felt they were truly in the story. For what it is worth, I am glad that the undercroft remains a comfort to you. I do not know how long it will be left empty once you have quit Hogwarts for good. Of course, there will always be new members of the Gaunt family to fill it, but I regret that it may never be the safe haven we knew it as again.

I too regret that you did not join Hogwarts sooner, for it robbed us all of time with each other. I can picture all three of us who were of Slytherin house cherishing and caring for our lone Hufflepuff. Had you been able to know Anne, you would have loved her as Sebastian and I did, (I seem to find myself mournfully nostalgic as well, these days.) I do so hate the thought of you being such a lonely little girl, for it strikes a familiar cord in me that was a lonely little boy and I would wish that on no one. Should we have all been together longer, there would have been many more memories for you to hold during the summers back home-though, I imagine that the Figs may have tried to wrestle you into their care at some point or another, with how fond the professor was of you. I like to imagine you would not have felt the need to carry an entire goblin rebellion solely upon yourself, had you more connections to rest back upon. Perhaps it’s just the time of year, my dear, that makes us think of our time passed or stolen.

Perhaps it is impertinent to suggest this, even selfish of me, but it does occur to me nonetheless. Should you want to leave the confines of Hogwarts and its valley, yet not go home to your mother, you are free to come to me. I have only the single room with little furnishings, but you are welcome to all I have. I should be glad of your warm company and perhaps a visit would chase the melancholy from both of us. Of course, I realize you are also close with Miss Onai, and should you prefer to stay in her company this season-it would gladden me greatly to know you are comforted in her friendship.

You shall always have my patience without asking for it. No matter what you could possibly do, I shall always think of you kindly. Your name is a bell hung in my soul; should you but ring, I would

Your friend, always,

O.G

December 10th 1893

Ominis,

My coming to see you is a brilliant idea and I’m glad you thought of it. I will buy my tickets. I will see you on the twenty second and I will stay with you through new years . Let the two of us chase away each others sorrows, as to start fresh in the new year! There are things about this season that cause me to think of things I’d rather not-and you have always been wonderfully distracting.

Don’t blame the owl too harshly. I can’t imagine flying in December is always easy for them.  

Yours eagerly,

Eudora.

[straightuppotato-art]

I couldn't stop staring at @ctchrysler 's awesome animation and so l used it as a reference to draw some lovely ladies walking!!