whatwouldvalerydo

[whatwouldvalerydo]

Thank you for the tag @alrendriablaze 🖤

No pressure tag @eternalchaoschocolaterain @libellule-ao3 @la-grosse-patate

Blog & Blogger (picrew link). Tagged by @greypetrel , thank you dear!

Tagging: @shanaraharlyah @sweetjulieapples @the-arcane-archivist @tessa1972 @elisyn @knuttydraws @kittynomsdeplume and anyone who wants to play. No pressure, only fun.

[whatwouldvalerydo]

Thank you for the tag lovely 🖤

Leila Hellebore - HPHL

OC Vibes

Doing this one again for my lovely @kiwiplaetzchen since my Hellendil Pintrest board is getting so big.

Rules: post your OC and then 4 (or more) random pictures with no explanation to convey your characters vibe.

Hellendil Mellinae

Tagging @raenegade-accio @oxygenforthewicked @rypnami @lanabenikosdoormat @heyitszev @meowhariel @chewbokachoi and anyone else who wants to share their OCs!

All images from Pinterest

[whatwouldvalerydo]

This is how me and my mutuals look interacting with each other’s content

[whatwouldvalerydo]

Thank you @alrendriablaze for the tag <3 The blog is old, since 2018 if memory serves me right. Back then Lucifer was airing and there was one episode called "What would Lucifer do?". I can't particularly say why it stuck with me, but it did and it became part of the blog name added Valery and asked myself what in blazes do I do? I write apparently. Sometimes? Yes, no? Works for me =))

Tagging anyone who wishes to share the lovely story behind the name

Tumblr Username Origin Tag

Thank you @sweetlittlelamb for the tag! 🩶 Their post is here. I've wondered about your name, thank you for sharing too 😊

Alrendria is the name of my first DnD character. It's elven in origin. She is a half elf fighter mage. She is modeled after Xena Warrior Princess, if that gives you any idea how long ago this was 😂

When I started using her name for my social medias I added Blaze as a last name because of the fiery connotation and I thought it sounded cool. 😎🔥

I'm curious about your username origins please ❤️‍🔥💙

@wasteful-sam @whatwouldvalerydo @jukeboxpanda @synnevp

[whatwouldvalerydo]

[whatwouldvalerydo]

Carnage Circus

Chapter 1 - The (un)lucky chosen

Warning 🔞⚠️: A horror/thriller story depicting elements of blood, manipulation, death, murder, implication of sex or sex themes, abuse, guns, blood, smoking and alcohol consumption.

Footsteps traversed the stuffy office area, people moving from left and right, taking phone calls or talking to others as documents are being exchanged, the sounds a continuous hum despite the early morning hour. Several coffee filters continue to sing their mechanical buzz as people wait with their empty mugs, small talk and pleasantries being exchanged between tired eyes and smiles, yawns hidden behind open hands.

“Looks like this year you’re up.” The captain of the station announced proudly as he discarded a heavy box on top of an already cluttered desk, dust particles lifting, happily dancing in the air between him and the detective who barely took the time to lift his eyes, despite the plaque with his name on it tumbling onto the floor.

Assessing the worn-out label reading “Carnage Circus” he scoffed as his superior bent to place the plaque back on the desk, dusting it off slightly on his pants.

“Is this this a joke captain?” he asked unimpressed as he focused back on the report he was working on, meticulously going over it again as he always did before presenting it to the captain who oddly enough was still standing in front of his desk.

“No joke, you know how this goes every time. A case is still a case and this time you’re the lucky detective.”

Waving him off with his left hand, he did not bother looking at his captain “Find someone else, I’m not interested in ancient cases.” However, the shadow of his superior still loomed over his desk, that piercing stare of his grinding on his nerves. He knew well enough he was not going to let it go.

Setting aside the pen, he opened a drawer, taking out a cigarette, finally lifting his eyes to the man in question.

“No debate detective, it’s your turn and you just closed a case.” He said reaching out to grab the file from his desk, but was met with a heavy sigh.

“I still need to go over it one more time and sign it.” He said taking a long drag.

Opening the file, the captain pointed at the dotted line “Then sign in.”

Shaking his head, he grabbed the pen and provided his signature right under the name Ethan Warren.

The captain smiled, pleased with himself “You need a break Ethan. Work the case, take it easy for a week until they leave our jurisdiction once more. It’s been a while since they have been in our city.” Taking the case file, he left the heavy box on the desk. It was an order, not a request.

Ethan sighed, taking a drag of his cigarette as he looked at the obnoxious label. It was not his area in the slightest. Cold cases like the one before him were usually for rookies, Carnage used in stations across the country to scare them. Every city had a story to share about the mysterious circus and its directors. Because the one who suddenly decided to land back in his territory was not the first and something told him, he would not be the last. Like a gut feeling that manifested suddenly as soon as the idea sprung to life.

Putting out the cigarette he glanced around at his colleagues. He was one of the best detectives there. Used to working hard, long hours on the terrain, his sharp mind piecing together clues others missed.

This…he frowned at the dusty box was not him at all. He heard the ridiculous stories from others, how many detectives quit after looking into the circus even before the change in name. Some even went mad apparently, having said to witness devils and other atrocities they could not explain and were never proven.

And now, the case was sitting on his desk and something did not sit right with him. Last time someone from his station was assigned the case, it was supposed to be a simple easy questioning of the crew. It was an older detective, one year prior to the retirement he was so looking forward to. Poor bloke hung himself a few days after the circus left, doddles of the mirror house and shadows painting his notebook instead of answers from the crew.

The same crew…

“What a load of crap.” With a freshly lit cigarette between chapped lips, he carefully lifted the lid to read past notes of issues that occurred on the circus grounds or what he liked to believe were conspiracy theories at best. Because what they had were just that, ideas, nothing concrete, no solid evidence to link disappearances or deaths to the crew.

The poor soul that managed to stumble into the panther’s cage was ruled out as an accident. They couldn’t even recognize him when the animal was done with him, chunks of his body missing, a gruesome scene for those who were called to take what was left of him.

Another visitor was intoxicated, so the report said, him stumbling into the main tent, a ladder falling on him. Death, instant, not even a hesitation in the report. An accident.

A few apparently were seen entering the haunted house, however never came out. Reports state the circus closed the attraction for a few days each time as police searched, all doors and hidden areas opened, yet nothing was found. But then again, the people reporting the disappearance were always intoxicated to some degree, not a very credible source.

And then there was an influential figure the police had their eyes of for some financial schemes performed and abuse towards escorts and hookers. He was the last suspected victim from three years ago. Apparently, the bastard really liked to be present at every circus show, flaunt the latest girl on his arm, each night a new one. Until a certain beauty caught his attention. Iris Blackwell, the last addition to the circus.

Ash fell from his cigarette against her name, burning through the paper, Ethan cursing under his breath as he quickly pressed his finger against the paper before continuing to read.

Autopsy report: Death by strangulation with puppet cords as he found himself inside the props tent. No prints, his body twisted in the sharp cords as he struggled to free himself.

After that nothing. No more mysterious occurrences or so-called accidents. No more issues as if the balance was oddly restored in the middle of the chaos.

Turning towards older cases, a pattern formed in his mind, one he wrote down on his notebook for later. If he was going to work this so called mess of a case, he would make the best of it.

He would ignore how people stated the circus was cursed. That because of so many deaths, the Carnage name was forged when in the past it used to be something almost generic, fun, catchy. Yet despite the dark rumors circling it, whenever they were in any town, tickets for the main show sold within the very first hours, everyone as if attracted by some sort of morbid curiosity that had them flocking towards the mystery behind the tents and attractions.

Good marketing strategy, or so Ethan wished to believe.

Looking at the list of directors, Alaric Blackwell has held up the longest out of all of them. However, he also had the most changes in crew and main show acts. Until Iris.

“Looks like mister Blackwell is finally ready for another visit.” Ethan said sitting up from his chair placing the reports in his desk, locking it and pocketing the key. Running a hand through his hair, he then lit up another cigarette before stretching. He took his notebook, circling Iris’s name before he left his desk to grab a cup of coffee.

[whatwouldvalerydo]

I am rewriting it muhaha, new names new chapters.

Carnage Circus

Intro

At first posters take over dilapidated buildings, poles, walls, designated areas and none in particular, like a storm suddenly washing over everything. Crimson red, yellow, bold tellers, some straight, some crocked, it matters not, they are there, one on top of the other, sticking to walls and lamp posts. They are present on the streets, the wind carrying them until the posters meet a flat surface, a window, anything.

It does not matter which radio station you are listening to, the connection breaks for a moment, reception cloudy, leaving a crackle of a voice through the speakers no matter which way you decide to turn the dial. It’s there, raw, distorted, whispering at first, slowly, like the crawling of the fog that is creeping through the city “Come all, join us for a week of fun…” the last word as if not belonging in the vocabulary of that person, still warped no matter the frequency. However the voice is undeniable, Alaric Blackwell is back in town “Carnage Circus has returned.”

There is no sound of caravans on the cobalt streets that echo even the faintest whisper. The circus isn’t and then…it is. Like it should be, as if it was always part of the landscapes. As if when you look out the window and see the tents and attractions, it belongs. Even for a few days. It calls out to you from within the thick fog.

It’s everywhere, talk around the latest town, twisted music high in the air, an echo contributing to the white noise all around. And as days go by and posters start to peel you know the end of the show is near, another year or more to pass before the show will return, no guarantee of the same performance twice and it feels like losing something once it’s gone, a part unknown yet dear.

A group of people, wanderers, over and over again.

You never know when the circus comes to town until it’s there.

You never see it leave, part of the magic.

“Welcome to Carnage Circus everyone. It has been a while.”

[whatwouldvalerydo]

[whatwouldvalerydo]

[whatwouldvalerydo]

Emotional Walls Your Character Has Built (And What Might Finally Break Them)

(How your character defends their soft core and what could shatter it) Because protection becomes prison real fast.

✶ Sarcasm as armor. (Break it with someone who laughs gently, not mockingly.) ✶ Hyper-independence. (Break it with someone who shows up even when they’re told not to.) ✶ Stoicism. (Break it with a safe space to fall apart.) ✶ Flirting to avoid intimacy. (Break it with real vulnerability they didn’t see coming.) ✶ Ghosting everyone. (Break it with someone who won’t take silence as an answer.) ✶ Lying for convenience. (Break it with someone who sees through them but stays anyway.) ✶ Avoiding touch. (Break it with accidental, gentle contact that feels like home.) ✶ Oversharing meaningless things to hide real depth. (Break it with someone who asks the second question.) ✶ Overworking. (Break it with forced stillness and the terrifying sound of their own thoughts.) ✶ Pretending not to care. (Break it with a loss they can’t fake their way through.) ✶ Avoiding mirrors. (Break it with a quiet compliment that hits too hard.) ✶ Turning every conversation into a joke. (Break it with someone who doesn’t laugh.) ✶ Being everyone’s helper. (Break it when someone asks what they need, and waits for an answer.) ✶ Constantly saying “I’m fine.” (Break it when they finally scream that they’re not.) ✶ Running. Always running. (Break it with someone who doesn’t chase, but doesn’t leave, either.) ✶ Intellectualizing every feeling. (Break it with raw, messy emotion they can’t logic away.) ✶ Trying to be the strong one. (Break it when someone sees the weight they’re carrying, and offers to help.) ✶ Hiding behind success. (Break it when they succeed and still feel empty.) ✶ Avoiding conflict at all costs. (Break it when silence causes more pain than the truth.) ✶ Focusing on everyone else’s healing but their own. (Break it when they hit emotional burnout.)

[whatwouldvalerydo]

When a Character is Falling in Love but Doesn’t Trust It

Love is terrifying. Especially for characters who’ve been hurt, shut down, or raised to believe vulnerability is weakness. So when they start falling? It doesn’t look like a Disney montage. It looks like panic in slow motion.

✧ They start noticing everything and it unsettles them. The way their voice cracks when they laugh. The way their fingers tap when they’re thinking. These little details burrow in and refuse to leave. And that awareness makes the character feel exposed.

✧ They become hyperaware of their own body. Where their hands are. How close they’re standing. If they’re blushing. It’s like being inside a body that’s betraying them constantly.

✧ They act a little mean. Not because they are mean. But because being cold is safer than being real. Sarcasm, distance, teasing, they use it like armor.

✧ They hate how much they want to share things. They’ll see a funny meme and instinctively want to send it. Then stop. No. Don’t get attached. They want to tell them about a childhood memory, then bite it back. Too personal.

✧ They become inconsistent. Warm one moment, distant the next. Showing up, then pulling away. They’re testing how much of themselves they can reveal before it feels like too much.

✧ They assume the worst. They know it won’t last. That this person will leave. That they’re misreading everything. Love doesn’t feel safe, it feels like a countdown to pain.

✧ They self-sabotage. Pick fights. Flake on plans. Pull away emotionally just to “protect themselves” before it goes wrong. It’s tragic and messy and real.

✧ They notice silence more. What wasn’t said. A delayed reply. A joke that didn’t land. Everything becomes a sign that maybe this love thing was a mistake.

✧ They want to run, but never do. The desire to bolt is constant. But they don’t. Because something about this person is pulling them back, despite every warning bell going off in their head.

✧ They don’t trust the feeling, but they keep falling anyway. And that’s what makes it beautiful. And heartbreaking. Because they don’t want to fall. But they do. And maybe, just maybe, that’s the bravest thing they’ve ever done.

[whatwouldvalerydo]

*boops your nose* send this to ten blogs you think are lovely and deserve a boop on the nose. 😊

You are thus been deemed more boopable than I 🖤🖤🖤🖤

[whatwouldvalerydo]

Cannot wait to end my business trip and get into chapter 2 🖤

Fire, Ash and Metal

Story Summary: Have you ever wondered what Dammon's journey was right before the events of Baldur's Gate 3? This is Dammon's story of what he endured while in Avernus. It's a prequel to the events of Baldur's Gate 3 and vaguely follows the Descent Into Avernus campaign, starting when Elturel gets swallowed up.

Story Rating: Mature/Explicit (MDNI)

Chapter 1: Into The Nine Hells

Chapter 1 Summary: The Companion transports Elturel to Avernus and The Nine Hells are unleashed onto the city.

Word count: 2,829

Chapter 2: Their Fate Is Sealed

Chapter 2 Summary: Dammon with a group of captured citizens and travelers from Elturel are taken into Avernus. He finds out the possible fates of the others before moving further into Avernus.

Word Count: 3,657

Please read tags on AO3. Tags are added with each chapter.

Tagged by request: @whatwouldvalerydo

I hope everyone enjoys Dammon's journey. 😊❤️‍🔥

[whatwouldvalerydo]

By now we know the drill, shorter comment here, the longer one in AO3.

But I will say this here, this chapter, I believe this one was my favorite from this series so far. So many layers and nuances are explored and you do it brilliantly.

NSFW - 🔞 | ⚠️ Physical & emotional abuse + heavy theme | Ominis Gaunt x F!OC | Currently 45 000 words

Tags: hurt/comfort, strangers to lovers, developing relationship, emotional intimacy, dark themes, introspection, trauma, pov alternating, sexual tension, smut etc.

A/N: Thank you, @tamayula-hl, for enhancing a cover that was already perfect in my eyes. I was truly touched that you decided to revisit and refine it. It’s more beautiful than ever. 😭🙏💕

Summary : Ominis Gaunt, the pure-blood wizard, struggles in the shadow of a prestigious name he despises. Evelyne Lavandin, a Muggle-born torn from her family, no longer knows where to put down roots.

Two souls marked by solitude. Two paths that were never meant to cross. But can one ever truly escape what binds us?

In Chapter 6 (5k words), published today:

Plagued by doubt, Ominis tries to uncover the source of Evelyne’s suffering, all while battling the shame of a desire he never chose. The carriage ride to Azkaban, meant to be nothing more than a journey to visit Sebastian, becomes the stage for a confrontation where every silence says too much—and every word, too little.

Then comes the test of trust.

Excerpt and AO3 link under the cut ⬇️

The silence spreads through the atmosphere, insidious as poison, seeping under his skin and clinging to his nerves, still electrified by the night. His heart keeps beating, to the rhythm of a battle lost before he knew how to fight it.

Evelyne is gone, but her absence erases nothing.

His friend had left her mark everywhere...

In the folds of his sheets, where her body had curled up against him like a shivering grass snake seeking warmth.

In the air he breathes, saturated with her scent, a mixture of wild herbs and rosat geranium intertwined with a more personal fragrance.

In his lower abdomen, where the fire continues to smoulder.

Ominis remains frozen, unbearably tense, despite the painful pressure of the pillow held tightly against him. He would like to erase the moment. To pretend that the night had never happened, as if Evelyne had not collapsed against him with the frenzy of a mortally wounded animal, as if she had not cried in his arms until she abandoned herself, vulnerable, in a way she never allows herself.

Alas, his flesh remembers everything.

The warmth of her exhale at his neck, her shoulders shaking with sobs, the quivering of her lips against his collar as she tried to contain her pain, which had nevertheless broken her modesty like floodwaters breaching a dam.

And him?

He did nothing. Nothing...

Except hold her. Protect her.

A true gentleman… Ominis Gaunt did nothing inappropriate; not even the slightest indecent thought crossed his mind, and yet his body betrayed him.

Chapter 6 — "Sap Beneath Bark" available to read on AO3 → [link]

Please forgive any grammatical errors. (ESL writer)

[whatwouldvalerydo]

[whatwouldvalerydo]

Hello, hello.

I have to admit seeing an awkward situation play out is a treat. We have the perfect setting for banter (no other way of speaking with Rolan 😉), funny awkward situation that I suspect will be a dime a dozen and a scene that plays out naturally and it warms me up.

The small introspections or inner dialogue of the characters is also a nice addition and gives us more insight to what they are feeling or thinking.

This snippet was a teaser for what is to come and I cannot wait for more.💙

Tiefling Tuesday

Tiefling Massages

Story Idea Summary: Ren moves to a small town called The Emerald Grove a year ago. After a terrible accident she needed a change in her life. She sought out Tiefling Massages to help with her physical therapy. While there she made friends with the different massage artists. The story starts when she realized she was starting to have feelings for two specific massage artists, Dammon and Rolan, she decided to stop going, even if it meant it wasn't good for her recovery. Though, she keeps running into both of them which starts a chain of events and discovery of emotions. Events start to unfold and Ren's past starts to catch up with her. Though, she might not be the only one hiding secrets. How will they all handle it when everything is discovered and threads start unraveling?

I'm tagging @wasteful-sam and @whatwouldvalerydo since they both were interested in this story. ❤️‍🔥💙

The first chapter is mostly about Ren and Rolan. This snippet is from the beginning of chapter one but it isn't all of chapter one. I might change between Dammon and Rolan for a while in chapters. We will see where this all goes. I hope everyone enjoys ☺️

Read More below:

She sits in the corner of her favorite coffee shop, Brews and Potions. She keeps staring at the blank screen and that damn blinking cursor as she tries to figure out how she wants to word her story. She bites her bottom lip and scrunches her eyebrows while she concentrates. Her fingers linger over her Iced Latte of Energy. She hears a familiar voice and her eyes trail to the counter. She sees him ordering a drink. Her face flushes and she sinks into her seat. I hope he didn't see me. Hopefully I'm hidden enough in this corner. She raises her head slightly and glances back to see his back is to her.

Recently she was seeking help at Tiefling Massages for the damage to her muscles from an accident. Karlach has been helping get her mobility back and doing fantastic work. However, she recently stopped going when she realized she was having feelings for two of the other massage artists. She felt it was inappropriate for her to continue going, even if she wasn't seeing them for massages, until she could get herself in check and her emotions subsided. The problem was they kept getting stronger. She had talked to them a few times after her massages while they waited between clients, and a few times in town. It is a small town, so she ran into them quite a few times. Though now that she is avoiding them, and the questions, it seemed the town had shrunk.

Of course I would run into him here. She slides to the floor to quietly hide under the table. Maybe he didn't see me. She puts her hands over her head, cupping her palms over her eyes and tries to make it harder to see her.

She is extremely concentrated on not being seen by one, that she doesn't notice the other one watching her. He tilts his head in amusement. He thinks she is cute if not a bit strange at times, which isn't necessarily bad. It makes their conversations more interesting. Why is she under the table? Did she loose something? Or is this a new writing style? He smooths down his robes and decides to walk up to her. He wants to make sure she is doing well since he hasn't seen her in weeks.

He coughs and asks “Did you lose something, Ren?”

She is caught off guard, not expecting him to be here too. She tries to stand up quickly only to hit the bottom of the table with her head and fall on her bottom. “Oufff!”

“Hey, be careful. You might need that brain later.” He teases. He grins as he watches her.

She looks over to see the familiar brown leather boots and the blue, red and silver robes of Rolan. She peeks out from under the table, her curly raven black hair falling over her eyes. She pushes her hair back under her ear to see him better. She grins while rubbing her head “I could still beat you at lanceboard even without a brain.”

He laughs, “I like to see you try.” He crosses his arms and stares down at her. He finds it a bit humorous and an interesting position as he watches her.

Ren’s cheeks turn pink, she isn't used to looking up at Rolan from this angle. It definitely put a different perspective on him. She starts to stand up as she braces herself against the table. She didn't want to think about how sitting on the floor looking up at Rolan would be nicer than awkwardly trying to stand. I probably look like an elephant trying to move around and I have as much grace as one too. She used to be able to dance and move gracefully but after the accident she didn't think that was possible anymore. She stands with both her hands clutching the table for support and tilts her head. She says “Anytime you are ready for me to beat you at lanceboard, just let me know.”

He grins “What you really mean to say is when I beat you.”

Her legs feel weak and she clumsily sits down. She hopes he doesn't notice or ask why she hasn't been to see Karlach. She takes sips of her drink nervously.

Rolan asks softly while pointing to the chair across from her “May I join you?” He enjoys her company and the banter. Her quick wit always makes him smile. Sometimes her chaos can be annoying. Though, she always makes him feel a sort of peace that he quite can't explain.

She takes a big gulp of her iced latte and says while coughing “Yes, of course.” Sure, just sit down and make it even harder for me to forget about that smirk on your face and your freckles.

Rolan watches her as he sits down across from her. He can tell she is in need of some therapy. He could see how difficult it was for her to move around and how tight her muscles are but doesn't want to pry about why she hasn't been in weeks to have any help. He hopes she goes back for her well being.

Ren glances at the counter and notices the other one is gone. She quickly scans the room and figures he didn't see her. At least one of the two didn't. She breathes out slowly. Now if only I could make a quick exit. Maybe an emergency comes up? She chews on her straw while she thinks, not aware of Rolan looking at her with a half smile on his face. Why does he have to be so bloody arrogant? It makes him look adorable and his eyes glow more. He is charming in a strange way with it. Then there are his freckles, why does he have to have freckles?! So annoyingly cute.

Rolan asks “What brings you to Brews and Potions today?” He takes a sip of his Wine of The Ages.

She slowly stops chewing on her straw, realizing she probably looks foolish. She looks at her drink and holds it up “Coffee potion!” She grins.

He says with a slight tease "You know very well what I was asking." He sighs. He often feels like others misinterpret him. He asks "What are you working on?" He glances at her computer.

She giggles "Ah! See if you ask the correct question first. Asking what I'm doing here in Brews and Potions is not the same as, what I'm working on. I'm sure many here only come for the drinks. Specifically I'm here working doesn't necessarily mean that's what brought me here."

Rolan glares at her and plainly says "Smartass!"

She grins and says "Better a smart ass than a dumb..."

He rubs his eyes and finishes her sentence "Than a dumbass. Yes, yes I know. You say it all the time."

She leans forward and grins "But you love it...and you know I'm right!" She leans back.

He sighs "Are you avoiding my question or going to continue this attempt at a joke?" He would never tell her that he tries to hold back the smallest of laughs and a grin when she does this. He finds it both annoying and adorable in a strange way. Why does she both vex me and make me feel peaceful?

Ren sits up, looks at her computer and says “Oh I'm…just trying to write about some scientific advancements with magic and put them in story format for readers to understand better.” She always enjoys it when he asks her about her projects, but she enjoys joking and teasing him too.

He leans forward and raises his eyebrows. All signs of annoyance leave his face. He asks “Oh? In what way?” He is generally interested in her studies, he finds her intelligent and their conversations are always thought provoking. When she isn't trying to get me to laugh at the cheesiest jokes.

Ren grins and says “I'm glad you asked. So you know how sorcerers, wizards, druids, and everyone else pull magic from different sources with different methods?”

Rolan sits up and says as he jesters towards her “Yes, but some would argue the source is the same, it's the methods that are different.”

She says pointing back at him “Yes, possibly but there could be smaller realms in that source that have natural frequencies only attuned to different magical artists. Depending on the mortal’s frequency depends on which they are attuned with.”

He says as he looks away briefly, rubbing his finger over his chin and contemplating the idea. “Interesting.” He looks back at her and asks “Do you think a mortal could change their attunement?”

Ren moves her straw around “Maybe, it probably depends on several factors and the discipline of the mortal.”

His eyebrows furrow. He says as he leans back “That could be problematic.”

She tilts her head and asks “How so?*

He says “Well, you are basically saying if someone wants to change who they are that they just have to think about it and they can. It's more complicated than that.” He takes a deep breath and continues “If that was the case, you wouldn't still be having problems with your muscles from the accident or are you not disciplined enough?”

She looks at her computer, looks at him and looks back at her computer. She slams it closed in frustration. She knows he is right. He is the only one she can have these conversations with that doesn't just pat her on the head and placate her. She says as she runs her hands through her hair "You're right.”

He grins “I usually am.” He crosses his arms and sits up.

She says “Not always.” as she glances at him and folds her hands on the table.

He can tell she is frustrated and puts his hands lightly on top of hers and says softly “You will get there.” He smiles. "I believe you will."

She takes a deep breath, nods and says “Thank you Rolan.” She looks at his hands on hers, she enjoys his touch. It is always warm and soothing. She knows he only sees her as a friend. Though for a moment it is nice to imagine more.

He says “Anytime…”

For a few minutes they look into each other's eyes. Both contemplating, wanting more but feeling the other wouldn't be interested in them. He doesn't think anyone could ever want him. She thinks he wouldn't want someone who isn't on his same level, she feels she isn't good enough for him, and he wouldn't want someone broken like her.

Before he can say anything else his pocket vibrates.

She laughs looking down towards his hip “What do you have there?” She raises an eyebrow and grins.

He says plainly “Don't be crude, it's just my Sending Stone.”

He moves his hands off hers as he reaches for his device. The absence of his warmth is noticeable as she keeps staring at her hands.

She shakes her head I've got to stop thinking about him, about them really.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My Rolan playlist. I'm still working on it and I need to find one of my screenshots of Rolan to add to it, but this is what I have so far.

[whatwouldvalerydo]

This made my weekend.

While I am gathering my notes and my brain to comment on your cursed seeds fic, this has been a little treat that is so funny and witty i tip my hat to you.

Howler Hell

Another howler slipped under the door to his feet, quivering on the stone like a beast ready to pounce.

‘I hear it's worse if you don't open it,’

⚠️ I'm not an artist, just an occasional doodler. So I used a reference image for Ominis' expression, but I can't find the source anymore.😭 If you recognise it, please contact me so I can give credit. 🙏

Rating: M | Ominis Gaunt/F!OC | Ominis Gaunt/Evelyne Lavandin | Evinis | 950 words

Tags: Not Explicit but defintively suggestive! | Obsene Howlers | Sexual Tension | Dark humour (I classify it as such because there is humour even though the context is rather dark).

Ominis Gaunt hated the Howlers with a fervour that burned in his veins. Not just because of the noise, or the indecency of those screaming letters that exposed private matters, as others would air their dirty laundry.

No.

What he hated most was the condescension disguised as a humble concern that lurked behind every word of the few Howlers he received.

‘I'll spare you the trouble of having to read this, darling,’ Callista Malfoy had giggled in the first one she sent him, as if Braille were a curse rather than an efficient writing system. Or worse, as if she were doing him a favour.

And now he was on his fourth of the day. The last one floated behind him on the Grand Staircase, her charming voice inviting him to enjoy a precious honey tea that made many students green with envy.

He quickened his pace, his fingers clenched around his wand, its tip pulsing with scarlet magic, hoping to find refuge where Callista Malfoy's euphemisms could no longer follow him.

Too late.

The Howler made a raspberry sound and exploded into a shower of ash, covering him in black dust that stuck to his skin and clothes. Perfect! Now he wasn't even presentable, looking like a filthy damned soul straight out of Hell!

Ominis gripped his wand until the ebony protested, magical waves tracing the outlines of the walls.

Quick! A door. Any entrance... He rushed into the first storage room he could find to tidy himself up and... the universe stopped, a floral scent filling his senses.

Evelyne?

She was reading peacefully, probably a book on landscaping, sitting on the floor, ironically leaning against the only armchair in the room. And as he closed the door behind him, Ominis felt his irritation dissipate for the first time that day.

‘You look like a man being hunted by a harpy,’

Her tone, soft and mocking, felt like cool water on a burn.

‘You're not far from the truth,’ he growled, brushing the ashes off his uniform in exasperation. ’Malfoy is harassing me to court her before Sebastian's trial is even over!’

That was the price he had to pay for them to agree to let such a dark affair tarnish the Gaunt name.

‘All right. You will testify in favour of this Sallow, and in exchange, you will give our family what it demands: a prosperous alliance worthy of our name.’ Manigoldo and Atropa Gaunt, his parents, had insisted.

Their choice fell on Callista Malfoy, a witch of sufficiently pure blood to appease the arrogance of his ancestors, wealthy and boundlessly ambitious. She wanted to belong to him, or at least that's what she claimed.

In truth, she didn't want Ominis. The witch wanted the power he embodied. The prestige of a name that made the walls of the Ministry of Magic tremble, without the danger of a union with the heir to the family.

And since that agreement, he had been overwhelmed by her sweet advances, each one a bitter reminder that he had sold himself to try to save his best friend from a life sentence and make amends for his mistakes.

A knock on the door. A rustling sound. Another howler slipped under the door to his feet, quivering on the stone like a beast ready to pounce.

‘I hear it's worse if you don't open it,’

Ominis sensed his jaws clench. He tore off the wax seal, praying to Merlin that the contents would not be too embarrassing. Callista's voice, honey and venom, filled the room, ‘Darling, recent events — What? Which ones? — have brought to light certain “difficulties” with your wand. Now, those that are poorly maintained eventually become uncontrollable. Such noble wood deserves a firm hand and careful polishing to bring it back to its full potential...’

These dirty insinuations were unbearable!

To make matters worse, Callista swept aside her feigned innocence and her more or less distinguished euphemisms and plunged headlong into vulgarity, like a Knockturn Alley strumpet harpooning a recalcitrant client.

The laughter that Evelyne — virgin, but not ignorant — stifled in her hand proved that she was enjoying the provocation far more than a pure young girl should have.

‘I must admit, it's rather refreshing to see a Malfoy so quick to get her hands dirty for once.’

‘Oh, please, Evelyne! Don't add to it!’ he groaned, waving his wand, the lightning crackling with a blasting curse, striking the message without knowing that it carried a hex. It multiplied in retaliation.

One. Two. Ten. Twenty. A hundred!

And it kept coming...

They proliferated at breakneck speed, forming a mountain of screaming, yelling paper, endlessly spewing out the scandalous invitation, followed by whispered promises, theatrical sighs and... oh, Merlin, moans!!!

The deafening wave lifted them up until they touched the ceiling.

‘Finite incantatem,’ he said with as much conviction and power as he could muster.

Silence fell suddenly.

But they too fell, instinctively clinging to each other.

They landed on their feet, her soft body pressed too against his.

One heartbeat. Two. Then Evelyne cleared her throat.

‘Well, judging by that demonstration...’ she whispered, her voice a little hoarse, ’I think you can reassure your future fiancée: your wand seems to work perfectly.’

Her voice had lost its mocking tone. It wasn't a joke this time. It was an observation that was too accurate, too intimate, full of embarrassment and bitterness.

A veil clouded his mind. He pushed her away, his face burning, his body tense. Inappropriate. Indecent. Pathetic. Because beneath the shame and anger lay the monstrous truth: Callista's scheming had given him the perfect opportunity to embrace the forbidden.

And it had set him ablaze.

❗️This OS can be considered a bonus scene from ‘Lullaby for Cursed Seeds’.

❗️Please excuse any grammatical errors (Esl writer)