#c: isadora

[goldxnmanifest]

date: sometime around Christmas.

who: @isadoramorgan

where: A luxe fundraising event put on by the Windsors to support the renovation of the Gravewood High School football stadium.

Christmas time was one of the best times to host fundraisers for many a reason. Wealthy patrons are looking for last minute donations to pad their books and wash tax payments, the Windsors look to spend their remaining “profit” so they can get out of taxes altogether, and people come together to celebrate the holidays in luxe style. It was a PR miracle. 

Naturally, it only made sense to host the soiree at L’abattoir at Black Bear Lodge. The glass walls looked down the snowy slopes, the light of a dozen adorned Christmas trees filled the room with a warm glow. Even the crackling of fireplaces and soft violin music carried through the air, despite the chatter of wealthy patrons. It was a black tie affair and despite it being a fundraiser, it was invite only. Everyone was out in their opulence, their finest jewels on display. It was as much a celebration of wealth and a celebration of the year that was as it was an effort to “raise money”. As if they needed to. But, again, it was good PR.

Elijah stood amongst his peers - various staffers of the local government, senators, and even the Governor of West Virginia stood by his side. They shared stories of their triumphs from the year - battles lost and won, though more battles seemed to be won than lost. It was a good year. Even Elijah found himself smiling amongst them. Even though he was not the Mayor yet, they regarded him as an up and coming star. Their approval sent a rush through him like the best high. But, a tether kept him taught to the ground.

Hanging on his arm was none other than his fiancé. Their engagement was still fresh, and despite his attempts to think of a better alternative to pitch to his father, it was still steadily moving toward a wedding in the summer. When he thought too hard about it, it made him gut harden to steel. If someone had paid attention, they would have noticed his use of downers accelerate in the last few months. But, no one did.

She laughed when she was supposed to, she rattled on about his accomplishments, and she even complimented the other wives on the parts of their outfits that seemed the most expensive. She was good at this and he knew it. That didn’t change anything for him, though. She would be a good ally and that was it.

As the conversation shifted, Elijah excused himself and left his fiancé in their “hands” while he navigated across the room toward the open bar. He kept a pleasant smile on his face, charming those he passed with well wishes and promises that he would return with a bourbon in hand. Everything was going to plan and he knew it. When he stopped at the bar, he did as he promised and ordered a top shelf bourbon neat. The burn was familiar and welcome, the heat spread throughout his chest as he sighed. Even his eyes fell closed in ecstasy, as if he were all alone.

[alma-andrada]

Location: Andrada Household

Tagging: @isadoradekker​

“Mom’s out on a date so we actually have this place to ourselves for once. Which means we can actually watch shit on the big TV.” A small victory but considering the alternative was the tiny tv in Alma’s room it felt like a big win. Isadora was one of the few people who Alma had ever brought over her house, always feeling like it was a bit too personal for most folks. But she and Dora had been friends for what felt like a lifetime and in a way Alma felt a bit more at home whenever her best friend was there. Almost as if they were two people sharing an apartment as opposed to a home that should have been filled with family. Still, Alma pushed all of this out of their head as they grabbed their snacks and art supplies and made their way down from their room with Isadora behind them. “Are you hungry? I went grocery shopping this morning so I can make us something if you wanted. You can pick the music to play as I cook and you watch me and shower me with compliments, obviously.”

[hallowcked]

closed starter for: brooke madd.ox @soulcheri

The summer heat was supposed to be dialing down but the sun was unmerciful today which would explain why Jake chose today to throw a last-minute pool party. If anyone thought they could get away with wearing anything more than a bikini or shorts - they were wrong. Isadora's perspiring skin was sticking to the the lounge chair she was trying to get comfortable on. When she eventually notices Kev walking around the pool, she closes her green eyes and wishes he didn't look so good. The suntan lotion mixed with sweat, and everyone's flushed cheeks makes her think of sex. Isadora was feeling extremely horny and shamelessly so. Her eyes cut to Brooke who's sidled up next to Gage's sixpack. Isadora pulls on her bikini to get her attention, and accidently pulls them down an inch so that her asscrack is showing. "I want to go swimming with you.." she lifts her lashes and signals the plan with just her eyes.

[talesofcrypt]

at the beach house with brooke, @horrorsluts​

After fleeing from the shopping village with their bikinis in hand followed by a trip to playthings ( an adult store ), Brooke and Isadora return to the beach house. They’re both sunbeaten and glistening from their adventures, and in total need of a cool shower. Isadora’s panties were still damp from both sweat and cum and she was sure Brooke’s were equally soiled. “I’m going to go shower, babes. I’ll see you up there.” She pinches her best friend’s ass before strutting pass Jake who was on his way over to see Brooke. 

He rolled his eyes when Isadora flashes him a devilish smirk on her way up the stairs. “Where have you been?” Jake stepped in front of her so she couldn’t follow Isador. There were things he needed to talk to her about. Things like Tyler O’Neill and his new girlfriend shacking it up in the pool house. 

After a second, he notices the way her clothes needed readjusting. Her top was inside out and her skirt was turned around. Then there was the matter of bags in her hand. One was marked La Isla and the other just had a logo on it, a pink pair of handcuffs shaped like hearts. “You only came with Isadora right?” If she snuck a guy in, he would be pissed. “Or is this look a new fashion trend I don’t know about?” 

[diskaywrites]

𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝑻𝒂𝒍𝒌 𝑺𝒐 𝑺𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕 𝑾𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒀𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝑫𝒐𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑩𝒂𝒅 𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝑷𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒕 #𝟏𝟗: 𝑩𝒆𝒅 𝑪𝒉𝒆𝒎 𝒃𝒚 𝑺𝒂𝒃𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒂 𝑪𝒂𝒓𝒑𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: 𝑾𝒂𝒅𝒆 𝑩𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒕 𝒙 𝑰𝒔𝒂𝒅𝒐𝒓𝒂 𝑨𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒆𝒚 (𝒐𝒄) 𝑴𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝑶𝒇: 𝑫𝒓𝒆𝒘 𝑮𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒂𝒚, 𝑺𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒎𝒖𝒔 𝑽𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒆: 𝑴𝒂𝒊𝒏

.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽..✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽..✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽..✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽..✽✦✽.◦.✽

Wade Barrett knew he shouldn't be jealous of what he was seeing across the table as he sat at the pub with his best mates. After all, how many times had he told the woman who now sat running her hands through Stephen's thick red beard that she was too young for him? Ten years should have been too many years for the woman to want him, and yet here they were.

Isadora Ainsley hanging all over another man in an effort to make him jealous.

That was why she was hanging over Stephen, Wade knew that. The younger red-haired woman had pressed him for years, ever since she had come into Drew Galloway's life as an adopted sister. Wade thought it was charming at first. He was a single father of two who had long since given up trying to pursue a relationship with anyone. Having someone as ravishing as Isadora have an interest in him was a boost to his confidence. The problem, other than the age gap between two consenting adults, was his friendship with Drew. Wade respected his best friend too much to pursue Isadora like he so badly wanted to.

Drew cleared his throat from his spot next to Wade, rousing the Brit from his thoughts, "I need a smoke, Stephen. Think ya should join me."

"Not now, mate," Stephen chuckled as Isadora's black painted nails played with the back of his neck, "I'm busy."

"It's okay, love," Isadora's sultry voice seemed to croon, as enticing as the black crop top with fishnet sleeves she wore. "Go on out with Andrew for a moment. The baby needs an escort."

Drew rolled his eyes, standing to full towering height and leading Stephen through the crowd of exuberant bar patrons. Wade took a long drink from his glass of whiskey before finally speaking up, "So...Stephen."

Wade didn't need to look across the table to feel the gaze of those emerald green eyes boring a hole through his very core. "Yes, Stepehen. He's a good man. Kind."

"He's one of my best friends," Wade mused as he leaned back against the wall behind him, "I thought your attempts to make me jealous would be much more clever."

An indignant huff left Isadora's crimson lips, "Make you jealous? I'm not trying to make you jealous, Stu. I'm just...he's just..."

"Think of a good lie, Isadora," he chuckled as he crossed his arms over his chest. He basked in her floundering for a lie for just a moment, "Though...it worked."

Isadora raised an eyebrow, the triumph in her eyes palpable, "It did?"

He uncrossed his arms, one hand reaching across the table, resting on hers, "Seeing you and Stephen...why do you insist on vexing me so?"

"Vexing you?" Isadora pulled her hand away as if Wade had stabbed it instead, "𝙄 vex 𝙮𝙤𝙪? I've been trying to get you to notice me for years! If anything 𝙮𝙤𝙪'𝙧𝙚 the one who vexes 𝙢𝙚!"

"How many time do I have to tell you, Is, that you are simply-"

"Too young for you?" Isadora's thick Scottish accented voice mocked what she knew Wade was going to say. She moved from her spot across from him to slide into the booth next to him. Her black nails pressed into Wade's lower cheeks as she took hold of his bottom jaw. "No. No. I've had it with that 𝙚𝙭𝙘𝙪𝙨𝙚. Admit it, Stuart, you're afraid to put yourself out there."

Wade let out a sharp exhale from his nose, though part of him relished in just how close she was. He could smell autumn in her wake, all woodsmoke and cinnamon. It was heady, enticing. One of his meaty hands found itself in her long hair, pulling ever so slightly. The sound she made was small, and the second she let go of his jaw, Wade moved in to press his lips to hers. Maybe it was the drink making his head swim, bad decisions made over alcohol, but Wade was more willing to believe it was simply the fact that Isadora was right. His tongue pressed against the inside of her cheek, only stopping when the clearing of a throat was heard. The two separated, Stephen and Drew both looking on at the two who they had left at the table.

"So it worked?" Stephen smirked, a sly grin across his face.

Wade was surprised, raising an eyebrow, "You mean..."

"He's mine now," Isadora smirked as she laid her head on Wade's shoulder, "Finally."

[in-class-daydreams]

My One and Only (Sebastian Sallow x Reader)

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x Fem!Reader (Established relationship) Synopsis: It's seventh year and you're exceedingly happy with your loving boyfriend, Sebastian. Having had enough excitement for the rest of your time at Hogwarts, you both were happy to sit idly by and spectate the Triwizard Tournament. Only, that's not what the universe has in store for you. Notes/TW: Another installment in the Headmaster's Kid MC universe, because I love the drama. MC sort of has PTSD from the Ranrok thing, but it's not described in detail nor is it called such in the story.

You were in the Slytherin common room, leafing through Goblets, Goblins, and Gobstones: An Anthology of Magical Folklore. It was a gift from Sebastian from before either of you realized you loved each other. Back then, he couldn’t name the warmth in his chest whenever he saw you, but his regard for you was so great, he gave you a treasure from his childhood, the book of stories his mother used to read to him and his sister as children. Even though you were now utterly devoted to one another, you still liked to bring it out from time to time. It was as if his mother’s love extended to you, who never had anyone who felt like real family. The House of Black was not the most hospitable of bloodlines.

“She’d have loved you,” you remembered Sebastian saying. “You’re clever and funny and your brand of love is so similar to hers.” You liked to think that in your love for Sebastian, you returned a piece of his mother to him.

“Black!” Imelda shouted from the front door. “Your boyfriend’s gotten himself into another fight!”

You looked up, more than a bit confused. Since things had quieted down, neither you nor Sebastian had been getting into brawls of any sort. If there was one thing you’d learned about him over the years is that he always had a reason for doing things. You might not have realized that, considering you met him during arguably the worst year of his life, but now that it was over and Anne was cured, he was his affable, happy self. Even more so when he found out you loved him back.

Tucking the tome beneath your arm, you rushed over to Imelda, who led you a short distance to a hallway where a small crowd had gathered and Professor Weasley was already marching your boyfriend away from the scene.

You hurried to follow at her side.

“What happened?” you asked.

Professor Weasley sighed. “Yet another physical altercation. I thought you were done with these, Sebastian.”

Sebastian, face still red with rage, looked stubbornly forward. You noted his split brow and darkening bruise on his cheek with a frown.

“He normally is,” you insisted. “Please, professor, can we hear him out in private first?”

Professor Weasley was a reasonable woman, and she knew it was true that you and Sebastian both had been on your best behaviors since Anne was cured. The two of you had a happy, quiet peace together without goblin rebellions and cursed sisters, and the most exciting thing you did nowadays was play highly competitive games of Summoner’s Court. Some people wondered if you ever missed the excitement, and you’d reply that while you enjoyed a good challenge, you’d gladly give up being in constant peril for the rest of your time at Hogwarts.

Weasley relented and led you into a spare room away from prying eyes. You sat Sebastian down and set to work patching his wounds in a practiced routine.

“Sebastian. Lovey.” His hard stare softened at the endearment.  “Tell us what’s wrong, please?” you asked gently.

Sebastian took a deep breath and it became apparent that he wasn’t withholding the information, he was previously too enraged to explain.

“Yaxley and his band of idiots put your name in the Goblet of Fire,” he said through gritted teeth.

You let the information sink in, only for your blood to drain from your face entirely. With your luck, you had a highly likely chance of being selected to represent Hogwarts.

Since you’d accepted Isadora’s power to cure Anne, your magic had been permanently altered. You had returned to the Keepers, apologizing profusely and insisting that you were willing to return the power to keep it contained away from anyone. Given the fact that you were integral to stopping Ranrok and you surprised them by being willing to relinquish such power so easily, the Keepers tentatively forgave you. Though, you suspected that Professors Fitzgerald and Bakar were particularly softened by how you only took the power at all for Sebastian’s sake. One did not simply cast the Killing Curse in defense of a mere friend. You would know.

But even after the dark magic left your body, your own magic had become altered. More lethal, more sinister. You managed it just fine in the day-to-day since you yourself had no sinister intentions, but if the tournament put you in danger, you could not promise that your magic would stifle its lethality.

Professor Weasley was just as enraged as Sebastian.

“They what?” she raised her voice. “Did they succeed? Or was it only an idea?”

Sebastian’s head hung low and he rested his elbows on his knees. “It’s already been done. I didn’t act fast enough. I’m sorry.”

Disregarding your own panic, you hugged him close.

“Oh, Sebastian, don’t be,” you assured him. “I’ll manage. I always do.”

Sebastian looked like he wanted to say more, but you turned to address Professor Weasley.

“I don’t suppose we can get my name out of the Goblet, can we?” you asked.

The professor shook her head sadly. “I’m afraid not. The contract is magically-binding. We simply have to hope that someone who actually volunteered is chosen, not you,” she replied.

It was concluded that Sebastian would get an obligatory detention for starting a physical fight, but it would be short, and he’d be allowed his books, so it wasn’t much of a punishment. It was highly generous of her, and you noted as much. On her way out the door, Weasley smiled over her shoulder, stating that, “Had I been in your position when I was a student, I might have done the same.”

Afterwards, you helped Sebastian back to the dormitory. One of Yaxley’s group had gotten in a lucky shot to his leg and left him limping slightly.

“Sebastian,” you said before you parted ways. He turned towards you and you took his face in your hands. You pressed a butterfly kiss to his nose. “Thank you for trying to protect me.”

He furrowed his brow. “Trying isn’t good enough,” he stated.

“It is for me,” you replied gently. “No one’s ever been behind me one hundred percent until I met you. I grew up so alone and I always felt so unwanted.” You stroked his cheek with your thumb. “The fact that you care is plenty enough for me. So, don’t worry. Even if the Goblet of Fire spits my name out, I will manage, because I have you.”

You pressed a goodnight kiss to his lips and headed to bed. You thought Sebastian’s weak kiss back was because he was tired and distracted and, well, you were half right.

Several days later, you gripped your boyfriend’s hand as you all sat in Beauxbatons’s equivalent of the Great Hall, impatiently waiting for the Headmistress to draw a name. The large room was lavishly decorated, like a dining room in the Palace of Versailles.

Anne, Imelda, and Natty sat in front of you while Ominis and Poppy sat to your left. They looked at you with worry, having been updated on the situation. You all knew full well that the universe greatly enjoyed putting you at the center stage of great peril, and while you were honest with Sebastian that you’d manage, you were exhausted. Dueling was fun for a challenge, fighting for your life was tiresome.

You squeezed Sebastian’s hand under the table. He gave you three pulses back, eyes never leaving the Goblet. He was more tense than usual, and you assumed it was out of concern for you.

The Beauxbatons Headmistress went onstage with great ceremony, giving a spiel about the history of the Triwizard Tournament and what an honor it was to represent the school in such a rich tradition of joint relations between the three schools. She had a heavy, lilting French accent and had a stately aura about her not unlike Professor Weasley.

The Goblet’s blue flame turned red and spit out a singed piece of parchment, which the Headmistress caught and read aloud.

“The Durmstrang Champion is…” she paused for effect. “Sava Peycheva!”

Their student body erupted in cheers and applause as a tall, powerfully-built girl with long dark hair shook the Headmistress’s hand and waved to the crowd. Unlike you’d have been, she seemed completely at ease, as if her victory was guaranteed. You could respect someone confident in her abilities to that degree.

Sava took her seat and the Goblet’s flame turned red once more. Taking the parchment, the Headmistress announced the next champion.

“The Hogwarts Champion is…”

The darker part of your magic sang, eager to be put through its paces, but you felt a lump in your throat. You had been willing to use lethal force once, but only because of what was at stake. The idea of harming anyone now was enough to make you sick to your stomach.

You white-knuckled Sebastian’s hand and you all held your breath when the Headmistress spoke, loud and clear.

“Sebastian Sallow!”

[sallowsunshine]

Hi dear! can I request Sebastian sallow x Reader where they have a big fight because of his obsession and then Reader leaves and has to fight Ranrok when suddenly all teachers leave to help Reader Sebastian becomes worried and apperates to her but Professor Hecat grabs a hold of him and all he can do is watch how she’s fighting for her live c:

Last Goodbye (Sebastian x reader)

“Sebastian, you aren’t listening to me.” 

You and Sebastian are in the Undercroft. You had returned from meeting with the Seekers, and they finally told you why Isadora’s use of ancient magic was dangerous.

“If you really cared about Anne, you would do this!” Sebastian yells, his face red with anger.

“I can’t- I will not use my magic to take away pain. Pain isn’t ours to take away. Your sister would agree with me.”

“You are being extremely selfish. I cannot believe you would keep your power to yourself like this.”

“I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t want this magic. I don’t know how to do what you ask of me. I could hurt her, or put her in worse misery.”

“I thought you were my friend, I thought I could trust you.” Sebastian backs away from you. “I started to doubt your intentions the moment you told me you were trusting a Goblin.”

“Sebastian, what’s happening around us, what Ranrok is doing, is much bigger than us. Much bigger than Anne. I have been doing what I can to help you, but I’ve also had to do what Professor Fig has asked of me. Of what the Keepers have asked of me. Of what every other Professor has asked of me. It’s too much. I can’t do it all anymore.” The tears are free, one now sliding down your left cheek. “You cannot ask this of me. I am done helping you. I am done watching you tear yourself apart. I can tell you this now, the dark arts- this path you’ve set yourself on- will lead you nowhere.”

Sebastian is silent for a moment. “If that’s how you feel, well then- we have no more use for one another, then.” 

You lower your head, bringing up the sleeve of your robe to wipe away tears.

“You may go, now.” Sebastian dismisses you. He’s stone cold, no emotions or thoughts on his face. 

“Sebastian-”

“Go, now,” His gaze never meets yours.

You exhale deeply before backing away and exiting the Undercroft. “Goodbye, Sebastian.” You whisper, no one around to hear your farewell.

You take your time walking to the Map Chamber, Professor Fig’s most recent letter in your hand. The Keepers were ready to tell you where the last repository was, and you were originally meeting with Sebastian to tell him. You didn’t know what lay ahead, and wanted to say goodbye, in case the worst happened. You knew the cost of keeping Hogwarts and the wizarding world safe might be your life, and it was a price you were willing to pay. You got your goodbye, but not at all the way you wanted it. 

-

Sebastian is sat in Defense Against the Dark Arts, Professor Hecat teaching about Boggarts. He hasn’t seen you since the argument in the Undercroft, and you’re not in class now. Hecat seemed to know where you were, as she didn’t ask about you like she normally did when a student was absent. 

Professor Weasley bursts in the classroom. “It’s time. They need us!” is all she says before she apparates. 

Hecat turns to the class. “Class dismissed for the day. I must leave.” The last word is barely out of her mouth before she’s gone too. 

The rest of the class gasps, not sure how to react.  Sebastian knows instantly what’s happened. “She’s done it. She’s found the last repository.” he says to himself. He’s sure Professor Fig and apparently now the other Professors have got your back, but he can’t help but think about his last words to you. His heart hurts realizing if anything happens to you, his last words to you were cold and cruel. 

Ominis is sitting next to Sebastian. “Sebastian, what’s happening?” He grabs Sebastian’s robes. 

“I’ve got to go, Ominis. I’ve got to go help her.” he darts out of the classroom, trying to remember where you mentioned the Map Chamber was. 

-

Sebastian hears the battle before he sees it. He isn’t expecting a large black dragon surrounded with swirls of burning red magic. His breathe catched in his throat when he sees you, wand in the air, your ancient magic shooting out at the dragon. 

Magic shoots out like fire from the dragons mouth, and from Sebastian’s angle it looks like you’ve been engulfed by the flames.

“NO!” Sebastian shouts, about to run forward to help, but a strong arm reaches around and grabs him, pulling him to their chest.

It’s Professor Sharp gripping him tightly. “Boy, this isn’t your fight.” he growls.

“But she needs help-!” Sebastian struggles in his grip. “Please! Why aren’t you helping? Let me help her!” he begs, desperation in his voice.  

“Mr. Sallow, you shouldn’t be here!” Professor Hecat is there, too. 

“Help her!” Sebastian continues to struggle.

“We can’t interfere. Our magic is useless.” Hecat answers. “It’s far too dangerous for a student to be here, I’ll escort you back-”

“No! I won’t leave.” Sebastian has stopped struggling.

“Very well, but you must stay here.” Hecat says.

Sebastian looks on to the raging battle, his heart hammering in his chest. 

-

One final blast from your wand and the dragon explodes, the dark magic spiraling into the air around you. Sebastian can’t really make out what else is happening, except that the structures around you are crumbling. The professors have gathered around with Sebastian to watch, and they lift their wands to keep the structures from collapsing. 

“She needs to contain all that magic.” Hecat says to no one in particular. 

Sebastian looks on as your wand lifts to the air, a bright red beam shooting out of it. The dark red magic swirls and circles towards that beam, growing into a massive ball of light.

“What is that?” Sebastian asks.

“It’s pain and suffering. That ancient magic that Ranrok was after is pain. Long ago, a Professor named Isadora could do what your friend over there can do. She removed everyone’s pain and created this mass repository.” Professor Weasley chimes in.

Sebastian sees you crumble to the ground, but miraculously your wand is still in the air.

Sharp is distracted and it gives Sebastian the perfect moment to break away to run down towards you.

-

The effort of sealing the magic grows to be too much for you. It knocks you down to your knees, and you’re groaning with pain. All the pain and suffering that created this is working its way inside your brain. You feel the weight of every one of Isadora’s student’s pain, and it brings you to tears. 

“I can’t do it. I can’t do this.” you cry out.

You are stronger than you know, Professor Fig’s words echo inside your head. 

A strong arm wraps itself around you, pulling you back up to your feet. 

“I’ve got you” a familiar voice whispers in your ear.

Sebastian?

“Come on, you can do this.” It is Sebastian. You push on, using every last bit of energy in your bones.

The magic seals up into a cocoon, just in time before you collapse again, but this time, Sebastian is holding you steady. 

He falls with you softly to the ground, but his grip on you never falters. 

“Come on you two, let’s go before this whole place caves in.” Professor Weasley disapparates away with them.

They end up in the Hospital Wing, Sebastian doubled over, not used to the sensation of apparating yet. The nurse has already grabbed you away from him. You’ve passed out, unresponsive to anyone’s instruction.

They ask Sebastian to leave, but he doesn’t. He can’t. He won’t leave until he knows if you’re okay or not. There’s a lot he doesn’t understand, but he knows he needs to make it up to you.

(A/N: i know the whole last battle scene is set up to where this isnt plausible, and i know there's some inconsistencies like you cant apparate into Hogwarts, but i shifted around things to make it work ;D)

[1donoow]

CONTENT CREATOR FANFICS REC Pt.1

[Fanfics i've read]

edited

......

♡ - smut

Mostly fluff

......

Ranboo

Technoblade

Tommyinnit

Quackity

Jschlatt

·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·

@mcyt-peach - getting attention from author!reader

- playing fnaf security breach with them

- late night shopping

@peacheskimi - headcannon

@mothra-mcyt - reacting to young reader getting a weirdchamp donos

- reacting to reader sleeping with a stuffed animal

- reaction to reader who loves space and stars

@chippedaxe - demon mcyt hc (demon!mcyt)

@peppermin - favorite cuddle position

@rae-writes - ___ (platonic adult!reader)

- parental smp pt.1 pt.2

@god1ngs - petnames

@dsmpxreaderstuff - affectionate reader

@smol-cherry - dsmp w/ injured s/o

@lvyu - and we're live!

@basilly - lockscreen (feral boys + wilbur)

@the-emptied-brain-contents - how dsmp members would react to finally meeting you in person

@bozowrites - baby meets viewers pt 3

@beewastaken - internet brothers (Cc!benchtrio x younger!reader)

@dreamholic - wiping off their kisses

@satansmanger - kissing them while they're streaming

@akasuki - reacting to their s/o wearing their hoddie

@wrenqueenisboss - Chaos Is Not "Pog" (bench trio x older sibling!reader)

@kzuhasluvr - Tubbo + Tommyinnit with a skilled game developer sibling

@1sapnapsimp - walking in while their streaming/recording a video (platonic!bench trio)

@applekoshi - you are so gorgeous (cc! benchtrio)

@dsmpxreaderstuff - Reader losing/breaking their glasses

@crystalcow - oh sister of mine

@fandomlit - flirting 101

@etheriaaly - surprise, surprise

@wrenqueenisboss - bee hybrid!reader(3/4)

@beeindaclouds - C!DSMP reacting to Butterfly Hybrid! Reader

- Crew Boys with a Reader who has tics

·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·

Ranboo

@ohlovejoy - falling asleep on them

·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·

Technoblade

@isadora-larkspur - standing infront of them protectively

@milqueandsugar - Birds of a Feather (peonix!reader)

@sunniewrites - blooming season (flower shop au!)

·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·

Tommyinnit

@isadora-larkspur - touch starved

- dating tommy would include

@livelle - hc and blurbs

- headcannon (c!tommy x filipino!reader)

- the greatest protector

@mcyt-peach - troublemaker takeover(sister!reader)

- speaking of the sister(sister!reader)

@for-memories-sacrifice - big man best brother(sister!reader)

- Being Tommy’s Sibling

@tapesfrom1980 - sisterinnit

@ze-maki-nin - Tommy dating an Artist! Reader

·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·

Quackity

@mcyt-peach - knitting with quackity on stream

·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·

Dreamxd

@god1ngs - headcannon (deity!reader)

·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·

Jschlatt

@mcyt-peach - flirting with schlatt

^ - being on chuckle sandwich as schlatt's s/o

[bebemoon]

look for the name: LAUREN

@peonycherry

vintage black strapless lace and chiffon mermaid dress, c. 199o's

chantal thomass black marabou bolero, a/w 199o

valentino black leather platform heel logo sandals

isadora paris "isadora" eau de parfum (launched in 1976)

sophie buhai small south sea pearl mermaid choker

[upontherisers]

a/n: this was supposed to be all epistolary, no prose but then. but then.

Dear Mr. Rosenthal,

I had dinner with your mother last night. It was wonderful to catch up with her; I hadn’t seen her since the day we packed up your office and you left for Alabama. We ran into each other at Putnam Central last week (you missed a swinging show!) and she invited me for a meal. What a cook she is! Soup and cabbage and those little flaky pastries with nuts and spices for dessert (I hope I’m not making you jealous.) And of course she wouldn’t let me lift a finger to help, both out of host-liness and care that the food would be edible. Jeanette joined us for the meal but stepped out with some friends for the rest of the night, so it was just me and Rose (you don’t mind if I call her Rose, do you? She insists) in your lovely home.

You were the main topic of conversation, of course, but I found my knowledge of you fell short of what your mother hoped. She misses you terribly. I had the sense that she was looking for commiseration for the space you’ve left in our lives, but I was only your legal secretary and I work for another man now. (As much as I despise it. Please do come back to the firm when this is all over. Sidney isn’t half the lawyer you are and twice the hassle.)

I suppose you’re wondering why I’m writing. Your mother mentioned that besides Jeanette, you ain’t got a gal to write to ya and I don’t think that’s right. Every fella should have a gal to write to that’s not their mother or their sister, whether it’s a friend or a cousin or their dame. It’s hard to say certain things to family or you might have a story that they’d find appalling and anyone else would think is a hoot. I’d also like to keep visiting your mother for dinner and have something of substance to say (but all your secrets are safe with me, I promise). Jeannette’s gone during the day and I know how lonely a quiet house can get.

I hope Texas is treating you well. Keep safe and keep warm! I just read the most shocking piece in the Times about how cold it gets in the air. I’ve sent a scarf along just in case. Write when you can (if not me then your mother, please.) 

Yours,

Isadora C. Montgomery

Burnham whistles as Rosie pulls a swath of textured pale cream fabric from the package. Lacy’s hand reaches out to trace over the cloth lovingly, her dressmaker’s daughter heart moving her body before her head could catch up. He doesn’t mind. 

“Who’s that from?” Elton asks.

“My secretary,” Rosie replies as he scans over the long scarf and brings it to his nose. There it is, the faint citrusy spice that comes to linger on all of Isadora’s things. “She’s worried about the cold.”

Lacy snorts.

“Tell her it’s hot,” says Burnham.

“Tell her about the eggs,” adds Elton.

Rosie waves them off, tosses the scarf on the hook next to his hat above his bed, and picks up the letter again as he sits back down. It’s easy to get lost in the inky slashes and swells of Isadora’s handwriting, the practiced rows and roving, squat words as unique as their writer. She brings him back home in an instant with the sounds of Putnam Central on a Saturday night, horns blowing, bass rumbling around the room, and the keys lighting up his spine like his were the bones being played. It might be her up there, nimble fingers dazzling across the ivory and black or his mother and her clarinet, or Nettie and her double bass. All three of their voices eventually combine as they put their spin on the Andrews Sisters or Ella, and he’s the happiest man in the room to have a night of good music from good people.

He’ll have to ask who played, if Fat Bertie bellowed over his saxophone and demanded that his Dora get up and play that piana’, or if they had an out-of-towner. Were they any good? Any singers? Anyone who could remind him that there’s a world outside of Texas, one that’s free from the heat and the dust and the sour-tasting food. He’s pulled back into the letter, to the little flaky pastries with nuts and spices and despite the humid press of air in the barracks, his mouth waters for the warm, sweet dough that still steams when you break it apart. Rugelach, he thinks. They’re called rugelach, Dora.

She’ll know that before long if she keeps having dinner with his mother. She’ll know rugelach and blintzes, matzo ball soup and the good bagels from Schuman’s on Avenue T and Ocean. It makes him smile to think of her in his neck of the woods, her face soaking up the sun of southern Brooklyn’s wide streets not yet shaded by the tall buildings that are stacking up all around the rest of the borough, like in her Crown Heights. He wonders what it looks like now, if the drive to her apartment is more crowded, if she still chuckles at every errant ball that rolls into the street and waves at every older brother dragging their kid sister out of the way. 

Then he’ll watch her climb the stairs and smile over her shoulder at him as she unlocks her door, and then she’s inside and he wishes she would’ve lingered on the steps a moment longer.

I know how lonely a quiet house can get. He wishes he could go back home, even for just a day, and take Dora to a show on Broadway or pick up Delilah and Daniel for a day with their sister at Brighton Beach. She’ll spend all her time in her apartment when she’s not at work, waiting and hoping, unless someone drags her out, someone like Ma.

While he hadn’t considered it before, it’s important to him now, this bond between Ma and Dora. He’s glad they have time for it, he’s sad to miss the raucous conversation that always arises from two jazz musicians in the same room. Hopefully they didn’t spend too long on him; there’s too much he wants them to share—music, movies, their love of fashion—for Ma to keep the conversation on him. The vibrant life that thrums through the both of them will spark, surely, and he can finally put aside some of his guilt.

“Are you gonna do it?” Lacy asks as he stows the letter away in his foot locker. His confusion must be obvious because she smiles softly. “Are you gonna write her? It’s such a beautiful gift. You really oughta.”

Her blue eyes turn to the fabric hanging on the wall and the way it catches the light streaming in from the window, gold and shimmering, reminds him of the Flatbush apartment, the flutter of the curtains in their small kitchen on an evening when they’re all home.

He’s not like other cadets; there are no weekly care packages or pages and pages of letters coming in daily. His mother and sister write when they can and send what they can, but something like this, a genuine piece of home, is a rare find. He’s grateful and as soon as he can wear it without sweating to death, it’ll be airborne and he can take a piece of the ground to the sky with him, and from Dora of all people.

There’s no way he’ll wear it as well as she does, in elegant loops piled around her neck to protect from the snow or draped over her head and tossed over her shoulder as she gets in the car on their way to lunch in Midtown, but he’ll try. He’ll try for her and her insistence on maintaining his ‘lawyerly appearance,’ never afraid to fix his hair or reknot his tie with a tsk when he’s not up to standard.

The memory makes him laugh.

He thought of her often since he left New York. Going from having one friend at work to none left him missing the former greatly, and he’d started a letter to her in Florida but never got around to finishing it. He’s scared, maybe, not of the propriety or the scandal any letter from someone who doesn’t share your last name causes in an Army barrack, but of what she’d think. It might be for the best that he didn’t write—he’s out of her hair for the time being, and she’s busy enough with the firm without him obligating her into correspondence. But as he thinks of her words, every fella should have a gal to write to, I know how quiet a lonely house can get, he’s resolved to do them both a service and write. It won’t be any too prosaic as he doesn’t have much to talk about now, but it’s a place to start for when he might really need a friend in the future. 

Elton barks a laugh. “Of course he’s gonna write her. Not writing is how you get a Dear John letter.”

Burnham smacks his co-pilot in the chest. “It ain’t like that! She’s his secretary.”

And suddenly, three pairs of eyes are staring at him expectantly.

“I–I will write her,” he starts, but doesn’t let Elton gloat yet. “She’s a friend, a good friend, not just my secretary.”

That seems to appease the men as they get up and procure baseball gloves. Burnham tosses him a ball. “You pitching?”

Rosie shakes his head and tosses it back. “Not today, boys.”

“Yeah,” says Elton like it’s obvious, “he’s caught up on a girl.”

Burnham cackles and they chase each other outside, shoving through the group of pilots who just came in from the last practice flights of the afternoon. 

The afternoon break before chow is not to be taken for granted so while the lowering sun of early evening lulls the brashest of personalities to some sort of peace, he starts to write after pulling out some stationery, paper braced on a book Jeannie had sent when he was still in Alabama.

Lacy speaks up after a while. “It means somethin’ when a gal gives you a scarf, y’know, ‘specially when there ain’t enough scarves to go around.”

That gives him pause and he pictures Dora coming in from the cold with a red nose and hunched shoulders. He’s stuck for a moment before Lacy laughs aloud. “Don’t send it back. Just let her know you’re thankful.”

She sits back in her bed and returns to her needlepoint, which her mother had just sent her, and Rosie blinks at her for a few moments. He hadn’t known what to make of her when they got the order to integrate officer barracks. She’s a quiet soul but surprisingly humorous, and steady, always right as rain. Anyone would be lucky to have her in the seat next to them—hell, he’d volunteer if they’d let girls and guys fly together—and he much prefers her company over the boisterous, posturing pilots that fill in the rest of the beds around them. Betty Lacy is good people. Dora would like her, he thinks.

Dear Ms. Montgomery,

I just received your letter and your gift. Texas winters are too hot for scarves, but I’ll put it to good use eventually. I’m sure you’re getting snow in New York and I’m green with envy. I’d do anything for a nice blizzard right about now. We fried eggs on our instrument panels last week (and sometimes we fly in our skivvies. Don’t tell Ma.) There’s no sea air here, not even in the sky, so the heat just sits on you like a wet blanket. Forgive me if I sweat through this letter.

I am jealous, not only of your delicious dinner with my mother (the food isn’t as dire as Alabama, but it’s still bad (again, don’t tell Ma, she’ll have a fit)) but a swinging night at Putnam Central. That’ll be my first stop when they let me out of here. Who played? I hope you got up there and if you didn’t, I got a request for next time. God Bless The Child. They played it in the PX the other day, a brief reprieve from the twangy warbles they like down here, and Billie doesn’t do it quite like you. It shouldn’t surprise you that I’ve been banned from humming in the barracks—all my love of music and I can’t make a note of it. No one in my bunk has a decent voice, so we’re a musicless bunch until we can get away.

Still, it’s a good time. I find myself the fourth in a small group of similarly-minded pilots. John Burnham is from Connecticut, Claybourne Elton is from California, and Betty Lacy is a schoolteacher from Georgia. We bonded over our restlessness and have all passed certification on the B-17, so we should be assigned to crews soon. There’s practice and lots of card games in the meantime.

I hope you're well and warm. I’ll send the scarf back if you need it. There’s no reason to go without for my sake; the Army has taken enough of your silk, coffee, and gas already. And don’t let Sid run you ragged, either—he may have the experience but you’re the senior member of the firm. Go to Mr. Freidin if he keeps bothering you and I’m sure he’ll set him straight. 

They just called us for chow. It’ll be sandwiches or spaghetti—mealy, bitter noodles with tomato paste as sauce. I’ll pass and think of lunches at Rosetti’s fondly. 

Be safe and write back.

Yours,

Robert Rosenthal

“P.S. God Bless The Child, if not for me then for my mother. Well,” Gertie Simmons-Montgomery says as she sets her granddaughter’s letter down, “you gotta play it.”

Isadora sighs. “I don’t know when I’ll be back there. Mr. Wacker’s got a big case coming up and he’s working me until I’m the last one in the office. I can barely keep my eyes open on the bus.”

“Go to this Mr. Weeden—”

“Freiden.”

“Go to Mr. Freidin. Robert seems confident that—”

“Robert is a brilliant litigator who keeps clients coming back. I’m a secretary,” she says and leans down to kiss her grandmother on the forehead before moving onto her brother and sister and taking her seat at the dinner table.

“Are you gonna write back?” Daniel asks.

“Of course she is,” Delilah snaps, “Mr. Rosenthal is very handsome.”

“Mr. Rosenthal is my friend,” Isadora corrects with a warning eye to the teenager, “and my boss.”

Delilah scoffs. “Not right now, he ain’t.”

“Alright,” Delrose Montgomery claps his hands as he enters from the kitchen and moves to the head of the table, “enough of this letter talk. I have my grandchildren all together for the first time in a month. I’d like to revel in family.”

Isadora smiles and Delilah kicks her twin under the table and gets chastised by their grandma, but it’s warm and cozy despite the snow outside. As they take each other’s hands and bow their heads to pray over dinner, Dora feels a playful twinge of guilt as she begins to compose her next letter in her head.

Dear Mr. Rosenthal,

I wouldn’t have sent the scarf if I wanted you to send it back. And yes, I’ll play Billie Holliday for you...

[kapii]

Ngl i really want to move on already to gen 4 which is Late Night EP so i made apartment already for my twins Carla and Isadora <3 I think it turned out pretty cute c:

[blueseachelle]

Everything Goes On

Ominis Gaunt x Sick! MC! Reader

Warning: Angst

Summary:

“Sebastian. Promise me you’ll do what I asked of you. Take care of him.”

Inspiration: Everything Goes On by Porter Robinson

Y/n was doomed from the start. She was born with a disease no one could cure. The doctors and wizards alike tried to find something but, to no avail. They could only come up with a medicine that will slow down the process. She accepted for the sake of her family but, was happy to just let go then deal with the constant pain she was under.

At the age of 15, she found her magical ability and was brought to Hogwarts, sorted into the house of Slytherin. There, she met Sebastian and Ominis. She became close with them, of course not telling them of her condition. She pushed through her pain and struggles to save Hogwarts, fulfilling her duty as a Keeper of ancient magic. During all of this, She and Ominis fell in love and started to date. They truly did love each other. But, Y/n said nothing still.

Soon, she helped Sebastian cure Anne by the use of her ancient magic. She mimicked Isadora but, instead of storing it in jars and such, she took it in herself and her sick body. She felt her time cutting shorter and shorter everyday.

She told the one person she could trust with the trust, Sebastian. He would take care of Ominis for her so, they discussed it one night.

“Sebastian. I need to ask you to do something for me.”

“Sure, what is it?”

Ominis retired to bed log ago so, she felt confident in that he wouldn’t here this. The (E/c) eyed girl sighed, closing her eyes,

“I need to start from the beginning.”

Sebastian set down his book and looked at her with curiosity. She continued,

“I was born with an incurable condition and all the doctors and wizards could do was make medication to slow it down. It’s my time, Sebastian. I fulfilled my Keeper duties and healed your sister, taking the infliction upon myself. I’m getting weaker and weaker every day. I need to go home and live my last days with my family so they can have closure. Here’s what I ask you to do. I want you to Obliviate Ominis’s memories of me. I don’t want him to suffer my death. I know you can do it for me. Would you?”

Sebastian nodded, "I'll do my best. I promise Y/n. Make sure you get much rest and write when possible or up for it. The sick girl smiled, "Of course. I'll try my best."

Ominis sat in his Magic History class. It was boring as always was. As the rays of sunshine cast on him, he felt his eyes grow heavy. Soon he was asleep.

Ominis usually didn't have dreams but, this time, it was different.

"Ominis!" The blind boy heard a voice excitedly shout at him. He felt himself smile as he turned around. His wand made out the figure of a smaller girl. She felt familiar to him. She ran up to him and hugged him. He hugged her back, taking in her scent. She smelt sweet like honeysuckles. He relished in her touch as they stood in an embrace. She mumbled into his chest, "I've missed you." Ominis chuckled, "We only went to sleep. How can you miss me that fast?" The girl just pouted making the blonde boy laugh and hold her closer. "Don't worry. I missed you too, My Love."

Ominis woke up with a jump. He heard the shuffling of papers so, he knew class had ended. He stood up and gathered his things quickly. He left the room in thought. Who was that girl? What did he feel... longing for her? What was her name?

As he made it back to the common room, Sebastian showed himself.

"Ominis! Did you hear? Anne has been cured!"

Ominis looked over at him,

"How? Didn't everything that could be done was?"

Sebastian patted his friends back,

"Y/n- I mean, a wonderful witch broke her curse and Anne was healed as a result. She is doing great and should be back with us by next year."

"That's amazing."

Ominis didn't bring attention that he heard the slip-up. Who was this Y/n? Why did that name sound familiar? They made it to their common room and Ominis went up to his dorm. He sat on his bed in deep thought. Maybe if he fell asleep another clue will unravel itself? He lay down and fell asleep.

"My Love? What are you doing?" Ominis wrapped his arms around the girl in front of him. She giggled and pecked his cheek, "I'm washing my face before bed. Helps the skin, you know." He kissed her wet cheek and smiled before hearing a groan from outside of the bathroom, "Y/n, Ominis. Are you going to take all night in there? I need to shower!" Sebastian knocked on the door. Y/n giggled and dried her face. "We're coming out! No need to get your knickers in a bunch." Ominis kissed her lips. She smiled and kissed him back. For once in his life, he felt complete.

Ominis was plagued by these dreams for a week before giving in. He needed to ask someone about this. Sebastian was the only one that could truly solve this for him so, he met him in The Undercroft one night.

Sebastian and Ominis sat silently reading. The blonde male took a breath,

"Sebastian."

"Yes?"

"Who is Y/n?"

Sebastian stared at him who stared back. He took a shuttering breath,

"Why do you want to know?"

"I've been plagued by dreams or memories of some sort. All I know is that I miss her. Who is she?"

Sebastian looked down at the ground in thought before he spoke,

"Ominis. I just want you to know Y/n asked me to do it before I explain it."

The blind male nodded,

"Please just tell me."

Sebastian moved and sat next to him. He then started to explain who Y/n was and that she was Ominis's girlfriend. She was born sick and asked Sebastian to Obliviate his memories of her so he didn't mourn her death. She healed Anne and went back home to be with her family for her last day.

"She hasn't written to me in a while so, I assumed that she was finally at peace now."

Ominis sat in shock. All his memories flooded back to him like a title wave. He felt so many things but, he knew Y/n's heart was in the right place.

Tears poured down his face as he stood and grabbed Sebastian's collar,

"Where is she?! Tell me now!"

He yelled into the brunette's face. Sebastian froze in shock before stuttering out,

"S-She's in London."

Ominis dropped his collar and walked out of The Undercroft. He walked to his dorm and started to pack a bag. He will find her. No matter what. He dug in Sebastian's drawer, pulled out an older letter from Y/n, and got the address from it.

He went to the nearest floo and started his journey to England.

----~

Y/n sat in her bed. Her body weak and losing muscle mass. She looked as bad as she felt. She let her thoughts wonder to Ominis and Sebastian. How were they? Was Ominis as at peace as she was?

She sighed. Her ribs rattled in her chest as she did.

"Y/n, love. I brought some soup to feed you."

Her mother sat next to her with the bowl and a spoon. She carefully fed her the soup sip by sip. After the small portion was finished, her mother had her sip some water.

Y/n came from a upper class family. Just a muggle family but, she was happy with it. They weren't scared of magic like other's. They encouraged her magic abilities.

Her mother pat her mouth with a napkin and kissed her forehead,

"I love you. darling. I'll check on you if a few."

"Okay."

Y/n closed her eyes. She was just growing more and more tired. She didn't know how long she had but, she longed for it to come quickly. She suffered for far too long. She was tired.

Y/n's father answered the door after hearing a knock. There stood a blonde male with green vest and black slacks. The older man raised an eyebrow,

"Can I help you, son?" The murky eyed boy nodded,

"Is this the L/n residence?"

"Yeah. How can I help you?"

The boy took a shuttered breath, "I'm Ominis Gaunt from the House of Gaunt. I came to see Y/n, if possible."

The older man shook his head,

"I'm sorry, I can't let you. She is not feeling well and we don't want to stress her-"

"Thomas! Let him in. That's the boy from the letters."

The lady yelled at Thomas and nudged him out of the way,

"I'm sorry about that, Ominis. Excuse Thomas. My name is Evelynn, Y/n's mother. Please come right in."

Ominis was led into the house. Evelynn led him to Y/n's place of rest. She gently knocked on the door and peaked in, "Y/n, honey. There's a friend that came to see you."

Y/n opened her eyes gentle before croaking out,

"They can come in."

Ominis stepped past her mother. Y/n's eyes widened, "Why are you here? You aren't supposed to be."

Ominis said nothing as he moved to sit next to her bed. Evelynn gently closed the door to give them privacy.

"I'm here and I know everything. Sebastian's Obliviate was temporary. I'm just happy I got to you before you weren't here anymore."

He gently held her hands. He felt how much they changed. She really was going to die. This shattered his heart. He wished that it was a cruel joke and everything was going to be okay but, He knew it wasn't.

Y/n's eyes watered,

"I'm sorry. I didn't want you to suffer more than you have already. I'm sorry."

Ominis caressed her gaunt face and dried her tears with his thumbs.

"No. Don't apologize. I already have forgiven you. I know you had the right intentions. I just want to be here with you until I can't anymore. I love you too much to just forget about you."

Y/n tried to nuzzle her face into his hand but, she couldn't.

"I love you too, Ominis. I wish I could stay for you but, It's my time."

Ominis nodded,

"I know, My Dearest. I will never forget you and I will never love another for as long as I live. I will meet you on the other side."

He gentle lifted her hand and kissed it,

"Just promise to come visit or send me a message."

Y/n smiled as she started to cry,

"I promise to send you a dove and visit. I love you, Ominis."

"I love you too, Y/n."

He gently kissed her on the lips. When they parted, they sat forehead to forehead for a while. As the night started to darken the room, Ominis fell asleep with his head on the edge of the bed and Y/n's hand on his head.

Throughout the night, Y/n let go. Ominis woke up just before her final breath. He held her close as her body grew heavy. He sobbed as he called for her mother. The three of them sobbed together.

A little voice chimed into his head during his sobs. A (H/c) haired girl with beautiful (E/c) colored eyes looked at him with love and peace. She wore a white dress in a field of white clouds.

"Don't cry, Ominis. I love you. Just remember, Everything Goes On."

[utahsrainbowsprinkles]

Isadora finally got a Flipdeck!! Her being a band kid is really fun and somehow makes sense and I love that her friends Astra and Enzo are kinda shown in the Flipdeck that’s really cool! Also I think Enzo is in a wheelchair from what I can see which is super cool it’s always nice seeing disabled rep especially as a disabled person myself it’s really sweet 🥹💖 I’m not really attached to most Cluckeria debutants but now I am especially to Isadora shes so adorable! C: 💖

[hallowcked]

The night falls quiet after Tatum slowly dozes off. Dewey could no longer hear the girls' so it was safe to turn the volume down on the TV without worrying about eavesdropping. He figures they're asleep now but knows he won't be able to do the same. Sidney's death was still weighing heavily on his conscious and no amount of alcohol was helping. But he was no quitter, he continues drinking from the bottle while flicking through Netflix's new release section. Meanwhile down the hall in Tatum's bedroom, Isadora is laying on her stomach in bed, watching Brooke. "Alcohol makes me super horny, what about you?" She asks, feigning innocence, but Brooke would know better. She wants to play.

@soulcheri

[talesofcrypt]

❛  what has happened in your life that made you like this?  ❜ After word got out that Brooke's was sleeping with her brother and keeping it from her, Isadora decided to make new friends. She never expected to be sitting across from the redheaded devil but, here they were.

@horrorsluts for nina

[holmesillustrations]

Vote for your favourite, the top 9 will proceed in the bracket. Since theyre all different shapes and sizes, make sure to click into the full views!

Paget Eliminations / Other Artist Eliminations

Full captions and details for each illustration below the cut:

"I was shocked to see he was staring at me with a perfectly blank face." W.H. Hyde, Resident Patient (Harper’s Weekly) Characters: Percy Trevelyan, 'Russian Nobleman'

"It was more than a stain. It was the well-marked print of a thumb." FD Steele, Norwood Builder (Collier’s) Characters: Watson, Lestrade, Holmes

"Miles McLaren." FD Steele, Three Students (Collier’s) Characters: Miles McLaren

"But I have been running around and making inquires before I came to you." Arthur Twidle, Wisteria Lodge (The Strand) Characters: John Scott Eccles, Watson, Holmes

"A reverie" Joseph Simpson, Red Circle (The Strand) Characters: Holmes &c.

"Leaning forward in the cab, Holmes listened intently to McDonald's short sketch of the problem which awaited us in Sussex." Frank Wiles, Valley of Fear (The Strand) Characters: Watson, Holmes, MacDonald

"I've had bad news - Terrible news, Mr. Holmes." Frank Wiles, Valley of Fear (The Strand) Characters: MacDonald, Holmes, Watson

"She poured her whole wild fury out in burning and horrible worlds - I put my hands to my ears and rushed away." Alfred Gilbert, Thor Bridge (The Strand) Characters: Maria Gibson, Grace Dunbar

"Mrs. Ferguson kneeling by the cot gave no answer to her husband's reproaches save to gaze at him with a wild despairing look in her eyes." WT Benda, Sussex Vampire (Hearst’s International) Characters: Baby Ferguson, Mrs Ferguson

"Shall I give this back?" she asked." FD Steele, Three Gables (Liberty) Characters: Isadora Klein, Watson, Holmes

"Holmes' eyelids drooped so lazily that he might almost have been asleep." FD Steele, Retired Colourman (Liberty) Characters: Holmes, Watson