#fire testing mastery

[testing-laboratory]

Demystifying Fire Testing: A Beginner's Guide to Understanding the Basics

Fire testing is a crucial aspect of safety in various industries, yet its intricacies can be overwhelming for beginners. This guide aims to demystify fire testing, providing a foundational understanding of its basics.

Introduction: Navigating the World of Fire Testing

The Significance of Fire Testing

Uncover the importance of fire testing in ensuring the safety and reliability of materials and structures.

Why Beginners Need to Know

Highlight the relevance of this guide for beginners, emphasizing the foundational knowledge it provides.

Understanding the Basics of Fire Testing

What is Fire Testing?

Define fire testing and its purpose, laying the groundwork for readers new to the concept.

The Role of Regulations

Explore how fire testing aligns with safety regulations, emphasizing its mandatory nature in various industries.

Common Fire Testing Methods: A Closer Look

Cone Calorimeter Test

Break down the Cone Calorimeter Test, explaining its role in measuring the heat release rate of materials.

Standard Room Fire Test

Demystify the Standard Room Fire Test, showcasing its simulation of real-world fire scenarios for material evaluation.

Applications in Everyday Life

Consumer Products

Connect fire testing to everyday consumer products, highlighting its impact on ensuring product safety.

Construction Materials

Explore how fire testing is crucial in the construction industry, ensuring buildings meet safety standards.

Deciphering Fire Testing Standards

ASTM E119

Unveil the significance of ASTM E119 as a standard test method for fire testing in building construction.

ISO 5660

Provide insights into ISO 5660, an international standard determining the heat release rate of materials.

Challenges in Fire Testing

Realistic Conditions

Discuss the challenge of creating realistic testing conditions and its impact on accurate assessments.

Diversity of Materials

Explore how the diverse range of materials used in industries poses challenges in fire testing methodologies.

Looking to the Future: Emerging Trends in Fire Testing

Technological Advancements

Discuss how technology is shaping the future of fire testing, introducing innovations for more accurate assessments.

Global Collaboration

Highlight the importance of global collaboration in establishing standardized fire testing protocols.

Conclusion: Empowering Beginners in Fire Testing Knowledge

Summarize key takeaways, emphasizing that understanding the basics of fire testing is a foundational step toward ensuring safety. Conclude by encouraging beginners to delve further into this critical aspect of industry standards.

[venussaidso]

𝙈𝙖𝙜𝙝𝙖 & 𝙋𝙪𝙧𝙫𝙖 𝙋𝙝𝙖𝙡𝙜𝙪𝙣𝙞

Finally, Ketu x Venus serving through Hades and Persephone.

Fanart by momithastobeclever.

Persephone or Underworld feminine archetypes seem to be commonly played by Venus nakshatra natives.

Bharani Sun Rosario Dawson as Persephone.

Ketu's void is with Hades being the Lord of the Underworld — Ketu = poverty, detachment, hidden realms and darkness. So his appearance is dark and not abundant, he resides away from the land of the living, and his wealth is associated with hidden resources of the earth.

Technically, this is how the Ketu nakshatra-Venus nakshatra pairing conceptually looks like in this tale, with both nakshatra lords being combined with fire rashis. DeviantArt.

While Persephone is the Goddess of Spring — Venus = beauty, harmony, pleasure, and values. Hades' obsession with her is definitely due to their polarity. Magha and Purva Phalguni are yoni consorts, after all.

Magha Moon Cheyenne Jackson as Hades.

Hades is related to Wealth. This makes a solid connection to Magha nakshatra, as Magha's wealth is associated with the dead.

Purva Phalguni Sun & ASC Salma Hayek as an Underworld exotic dancer.

Purva Phalguni nakshatra is associated with pleasure, art, and romance. It is related to Bhaga, the god of marital bliss and prosperity, symbolizing the fulfillment of desires and the celebration of love, fruition, creativity etc. Blending so well with Persephone's purpose of being a goddess of flowers, vegetation and agriculture. In my Venus Dominant Themes post, I talked about Venusians finding themselves between crossroads, conceptually blending their beautifully harmonious nature with a violent or gothic side.

Persephone makes so much sense for Purva Phalguni as well, as this nakshatra is the final stage of creation. Magha nakshatra is related to the power of manifestation through detachment & other ascetic means.

Magha Moon Neville Goddard, the mystic writer who taught various self-help methods for testing his own claim that the human imagination is omnificent, therefore God. Coining the Law of Assumption and claiming himself a witness to his own manifesting powers.

Magha's relation with leaving the body associates to manifestation powers simply through the principle of detachment and accessing higher realms of consciousness. This idea of leaving the body is tied Ketu’s influence, which governs moksha (liberation), past life experiences, the ability to transcend the physical and to therefore master it (rather than getting caught up with it, as seen with Rahu's tendency to be immersed with Maya).

Mystic author & teacher, Magha Moon Lester Levenson. His Release Technique focuses on letting go of attachments to emotions and desires to clear the mind for effortless manifestation and mastery over the physical. He taught that by releasing egoistic attachments, one can access a state of pure being, allowing desires to manifest naturally.

Hades symbolically represents the power of manifestation, from themes of hidden wealth, transformation through detachment, and the unseen forces which shape reality.

Mula Sun Ralph Fiennes as Hades.

Mula nakshatra, through its natives, are often powerful agents of change. This is seen through Hades being a catalyst for Persephone's profound transformation from being the Goddess of Spring to the Queen of the Underworld. Mula nakshatra is ruled by Nirriti or Kali Ma, the goddess of dissolution and destruction. Persephone's identity essentially dissolves after he abducts her.

Marvel's Hela, portrayed by Ashwini Moons Cate Blanchett & Nika Futterman, is Ruler of the Underworld, just like Hades is in Greek Mythology.

Persephone symbolically represents the power of transformation between crossroads, the balance between light & dark, and cycles of renewal — serving as a bridge between the seen and unseen realms, as beautifully tied in Bharani nakshatra. Her myth embodies the themes of death & rebirth, and the integration of opposites, making her a symbol of absolute creation which complements Hades, who is impoverished in ways that she is abundant.

Bharani ASC Anya Taylor Joy as Sandie, a beautiful aspiring singer, who gets trafficked into an Underworld of sorts, very akin to the kidnapping of Persephone.

So the union of Magha and Purva Phalguni ultimately serves as a complete royal experience, as Magha is the throne & of hidden wealth and Purva Phalguni is the bed of pleasures & creation. Persephone becomes Queen of the Underworld beside her dark King.

Pinterest.

(more fictional Venus-Ketu pairs calling to these themes.)

[insidekatmind]

Not just acting~Park Hae-soo

Wearning: +18,smut,age-gap

Request: yes!

The film set was lit by soft lights, a perfect contrast between the elegance of the club and the murky atmosphere that the scene was supposed to evoke. You were sitting in front of the dressing room mirror, while the makeup artist adjusted the last details: sinfully red lips, long and provocative eyelashes. You were wearing a black lace corset that enhanced your curves, transparent tights and vertiginous heels. On top of your head, a hair clip with rabbit ears completed the showgirl look.

It was the crucial scene of the film: you had to dance on him, provoke him, get close until you touched him, while he, the unscrupulous tycoon that Park Hae Soo played with mastery, had to remain impassive, in a game of seduction and power. You were 24 years old, young and hungry for success, while he, at 43, was an experienced actor, used to maintaining control in every situation. Or at least that's what you thought.

When the director called for action, music filled the club. Your body moved with confidence, sinuous, perfect for the role. Your hips swayed as you approached the couch where he sat with a glass of whiskey in his hand. His gaze was fixed on you, and even though you knew he was acting, there was something in his eyes that seemed real.

You sat astride his legs, your hands sliding up his silk jacket. He remained still, but his breathing grew ever so slightly heavier. You felt his tension beneath you, the way his body responded, barely perceptible, but there. Your movements grew bolder: a rotation of your hips, your lips close to his ear as you whispered the scripted line. And then you felt his hand, which should have remained limp, tighten momentarily on your thigh, a gesture imperceptible to the camera, but one you could feel distinctly.

Your heart pounded in your chest. Was it just acting? Or was the line between fiction and reality dissolving in that moment? You looked into his eyes, finding something deeper than a simple role. A hidden desire, perhaps, or just an illusion born from the fire of the scene.

You continued to grind against him, dancing sensually, just like the script said. He remained stoically in character, his piercing gaze fixed on you, his hand still on your thigh. However, his composure was faltering. The rhythm of his breathing was heavier, more erratic, betraying the growing tension within him. Every move you made, every whisper of your voice seemed to tighten a coil inside him, slowly unraveling the control he so carefully maintained. Your body heat against his was like an intoxicating fire, and he had to concentrate all his strength to keep his character from breaking.

He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. Your hips rocked against him, and he could feel the fabric of his pants growing tighter with each movement. His grip on your thigh tightened further, his fingers digging into your flesh. He was struggling to maintain the act, to keep himself from giving in to the overwhelming sensations that coursed through him. But it was getting harder and harder with each second that passed.

Your fingers traced a path down his chest, finding the edge of his shirt. Despite the strict instructions to maintain the scripted gestures, the need to feel his skin grew stronger with each beat of the music. You wanted, no, needed, to test the limits of this role.

His gaze darkened and he leaned in, his breath hot against your cheek, his words low and urgent. "You're playing a dangerous game," he murmured, trying to maintain the authority of his character, but the trembling of his voice betrayed his internal struggle.

His hand slid higher, his fingers tracing patterns along the edge of your corset, the touch almost searing against your bare skin. The fabric of his pants was strained tight now, the evidence of his desire for you unmistakably apparent.

"You shouldn't test me," he warned, his voice gravelly and low, the words torn from his throat.He could feel your skin against his fingers, the soft lace of your corset giving way to his touch. He wanted to push you back, to pin you against the couch and take what he needed, but he resisted, fighting against his own desires.

He looked into your eyes, seeing the desire mirrored there. It was a challenge, a test of his self-control. But he couldn't resist any longer. He moved his hand to the small of your back, pulling you closer, until your chests were pressed together.

His arm wrapped around your waist, his hand resting on the bare skin exposed by the corset, the touch electric. You could feel the rapid beat of his heart thudding against your chest, his breath ragged against your neck.

He leaned in, his lips mere inches from your ear, his voice a husky whisper filled with both command and need. "You have no idea what you're doing to me."

You continued to grind against him, as write in the script, and kissed his jaw.

He swallowed back a moan, his fingers digging deep into the flesh of your hips, guiding your movements. The edge of his composure was unraveling, every touch of your lips and the rhythm of your body against his taking him to the brink.

He leaned his head back against the couch, exposing the column of his neck, an invitation and a surrender.

He was losing the battle, the feel of your body against his, the way you moved with such grace and sensuality was driving him wild. His eyes closed again, and he let out a low growl, his grip on your hips tightening as he pulled you even closer.

His hands roamed over your body, exploring the curves and valleys of your form, as if committing them to memory. He was desperate, his touch growing more and more unrestrained with every passing second.

His lips found yours again, claiming your mouth in a fierce, greedy kiss, his tongue demanding entrance and exploring the depths of your mouth with an intensity that bordered on possessive.

Your kisses were like a drug, and he was addicted. He moaned against your lips, his hands moving up to tangle in your hair, holding you close as he devoured you. His body was on fire, every nerve ending ablaze with desire.

He broke the kiss only to trail kisses down your neck, nibbling and sucking on your skin, marking you as his. He wanted everyone to know that you were his, that you belonged to him.

You arched your back, a moan escaping your lips as his mouth traveled down your neck and to your collarbone, his teeth raking over your skin. He was marking you, claiming you in the most primal way possible, and you couldn't deny that it made you weak in the knees.

His hands roamed over your body, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake. He was everywhere, surrounding you, consuming you.

The director yelled "Cut!", but it took a moment for both of you to move away from each other.

You pulled away from him, still panting, your body trembling from the intensity of the scene. The room was thick with desire, and you could feel the heat radiating from both of your bodies.

He looked at you, his gaze still darkened with desire, but also with a hint of something else. A flicker of confusion, perhaps, or regret. He couldn't deny that the line between acting and reality had blurred in that moment.

He sat there, still breathing heavily, his eyes locked on yours. He knew what he had done, what he had let himself do. The way you looked at him, the way you felt against him, it was all too real. He could still feel the ghost of your lips on his, the way your body had moved against his.

He ran a hand through his hair, trying to regain some semblance of composure. But it was no use. He knew that he couldn't go back to being just colleagues after this. Something had changed, and it was his own fault.

The crew were busy moving equipment around, discussing the next scene, oblivious to what had just played out.

You and him were left sitting there, both of you trying to collect yourselves.

His mind was in turmoil, the memory of your body pressed against his, the way you had moved, it was etched in his mind. He couldn't ignore the attraction, the spark that had ignited during the scene.

He glanced at you, noticing the way you avoided his gaze. He knew you were thinking about it too, the way your bodies had responded to each other, the intensity of the moment.

He leaned back against the couch, trying to steady his breathing, but it was no use. He could still feel your touch on his skin, your taste on his lips. It was driving him mad.

He cleared his throat, breaking the silence between you. "We need to talk," he said, his voice rough and low.

Your heart skipped a beat at the sound of his voice, low and serious. You had been trying to avoid him, trying to ignore the way your body had responded to him, the way your mind kept replaying the scene over and over.

You looked at him, your own voice barely above a whisper. "What is there to talk about?"

He met your gaze, his eyes locking with yours. He could see the tension in your eyes, the same mix of desire and uncertainty that he was feeling.

"Everything," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "The scene, what happened between us, it's not just acting anymore."

He ran a hand through his hair again, frustration etched on his face. "We can't ignore it. We can't just go back to being colleagues."

You couldn't deny the truth in his words. The scene had been intense, the line between acting and reality had blurred in a way you never thought possible. You could still feel the heat of his touch, the way his body had responded to yours.

You sighed, looking away from him, avoiding his gaze. "What do you expect us to do about it?"

He watched you sigh, and his gaze darkened even more. The sight of you trying to avoid him was like a punch to the gut. He wanted to pull you closer, to make you look at him, to make you understand how he felt.

He shifted on the couch, moving closer to you, his eyes never leaving your face. "I want you," he admitted, his voice low and raw.

Your breath caught in your throat, his words hitting you like a ton of bricks. You had been trying to deny it, to ignore the way his gaze made you feel, the way your body responded to him. But hearing him say it, admitting it out loud, it was like a spell had been broken.

You looked at him, your own desire mirrored in your eyes. "I want you too," you admitted, your voice soft but firm.

He felt a surge of satisfaction at your admission, but it was quickly replaced by a wave of desire. Hearing you say it, seeing the way your eyes darkened with desire, it was too much.

He moved closer still, his body now only inches away from yours. He reached out and cupped your cheek, his touch gentle yet possessive.

Your eyes fluttered closed at his touch, the heat of his hand on your cheek sending a shiver down your spine. You leaned into his touch, your body moving instinctively closer to him.

You could feel his breath on your skin, ragged and uneven, the tension between you almost palpable. You wanted him, craved him in a way you had never experienced before.

He groaned as your lips meet his, the contact like a spark that ignites an explosion. His hands roaming over your body, his touch possessive.

You feel him kiss you hard, his body pressing against yours, his need for you obvious. His tongue slips between your lips, exploring your mouth with a hungry intensity that takes your breath away.

The kiss is like a floodgate opening, and he can't hold back any longer. He pins you against the couch, his body covering yours as he kisses you fiercely.

His hands roam over your body, touching and caressing every inch of you, as if trying to map every curve and line. He breaks the kiss only to trail kisses down your neck, nibbling and sucking on your skin, marking you as his.

"You so fucking hot" he mutters against your skin, his voice hoarse with desire.

You gasp as he pins you against the couch, your body arching against his. His touch feels like fire against your skin, and you can feel your body responding to him, heat pooling between your thighs.

You moan as he kisses your neck, his teeth nipping at your skin, leaving a trail of marks. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, your own desire surging through you.

You manage to speak, your voice ragged with need, "I need you. Now."

He shivers at your words, the need in your voice like a punch to the gut. He pulls back slightly to look at you, his eyes dark with desire.

"You have no idea what you do to me," he says, his voice rough and ragged.

He lifts you effortlessly, his arms wrapped around your thighs as he lifts you up and carries you towards the dressing room. The door closes behind him with a click, and he sets you down on the table, standing between your legs.

His body is pressed against yours, his hands roaming over your thighs, his touch sending shivers down your spine. You can feel his hardness against you, and it's almost too much to bear.

You wrap your legs around his hips, pulling him closer, needing to feel him against you, inside you. He leans in to kiss you again, his lips hot and desperate against yours.

"You're driving me insane," he mutters against your mouth, his hands sliding up under your skirt.

You shiver at the intensity of his gaze, his words like a caress against your skin. You reach for him, pulling him closer, wanting to feel every inch of him against you.

He lets you pull him closer, his body flush against yours. He captures your lips in another kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth as he presses you down onto the table.

His hands move up to your hips, holding you in place as he grinds against you, his hardness against your core sending waves of pleasure through you.

He breaks the kiss to trail kisses down your neck again, his lips moving lower, down to your collarbone.

"Fuck me, please" you whispered desperately. His eyes darken at your words, and he lets out a low growl. He lifts your hips up, and in one fluid motion, he pulls your skirt up, exposing you completely.

He leans in to kiss you again, his lips trailing down your chest, stopping at the swell of your breasts. He nips and sucks on the sensitive skin there, marking you even more.

"As you wish," he whispers against your skin.

He moves down your body, his lips leaving a trail of kisses and bites in their wake. He reaches your hip, and he nips at the skin there, before sucking on it hard enough to leave a mark.

He moves lower still, his hands sliding up your thighs, parting them wider. He looks up at you, his eyes dark with desire and anticipation.

"You're so wet for me already," he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin.

His words send a jolt of pleasure through you, your body arching involuntarily towards him. You feel him grinning against your skin, his satisfaction at your reaction obvious.

"You like that, don't you?" he says, his voice low and rough.

You're unable to respond, your mind and body consumed by the sensations he's stirring within you.

He chuckles at your inability to respond, his fingers tracing patterns on your inner thighs.

"You're so responsive," he says, his voice a low rumble. "It's like you were made for me."

He moves closer, his breath hot against your core. He looks up at you again, his eyes full of desire and a hint of possessiveness.

"And you're all mine," he adds, before diving in, his tongue flicking out to taste you.

His words send a shiver through you, and you can't help but moan, the sound escaping your lips involuntarily.

As his tongue touches you, your body bucks beneath him, the sensation overwhelming. You'd never felt anything like it before, the hot, wet velvet of his tongue working magic on your body.

You reach down, your hands tangling in his hair, your fingers gripping it tightly. "Oh god, please," you beg.

He groans at the feel of your hands in his hair, and it only fuels his desire even more.

He wraps his arms around your thighs, holding you in place as he continues to feast on you. His tongue explores every inch of you, learning your taste, memorizing the way you respond to him.

"You taste so good," he mutters between licks and kisses. "So sweet, so perfect."

He looks up at you again, his eyes dark and hungry. "You're so close, aren't you?" he asks, his voice a low growl.

Your body is on fire, your nerves singing with pleasure, and you're finding it harder and harder to think coherently.

You nod, unable to form words, your body trembling with the effort to hold on. You're right on the edge, but you can't seem to push yourself over it.

You manage to gasp out a plea, your voice strained, "Please, I need...more."

He smirks at your desperation, his ego inflating at the sound of your plea.

"More, huh?" he says, his voice low and filled with amusement.

He continues to tease you, licking and sucking at your clit, before dipping his tongue inside you. He moves slowly, deliberately, drawing out your pleasure until you're on the verge of breaking.

He looks up at you again, his eyes dark with lust. "Beg for it," he commands. "Beg me to make you come."

You're a mess beneath him, your body writhing with need, and you know you'd do anything to find release.

You look down at him, your eyes dark with desire, and you manage to gasp out a desperate plea, "Please... please make me come. I need it, I need you."

You're practically begging him now, your body arching towards him, and you can feel him grinning against your skin. He knows he has you completely at his mercy.

He groans at your words, the sound almost feral. He loves seeing you like this, so desperate and needy for him.

He moves faster, his tongue and fingers working in perfect sync to bring you to the edge. He feels your body tensing, your thighs trembling around his head.

"Come for me," he growls, his voice rough with need. "I want to feel you come on my tongue."

At his words you come screaming his name. He groans loudly as you come, your voice echoing in the small room.

He keeps working you through your orgasm, his tongue and fingers prolonging your pleasure. He feels you clenching around him, and it sends another wave of arousal through him.

When you finally come down from your high, he pulls back, his face and neck glistening with your juices. He looks up at you, a satisfied smirk on his face.

"That's my girl," he says, his voice rough and satisfied.

You smiled and knelt down, unbuttoning his pants and pulling down his boxers before kissing his cock. He lets out a guttural moan as you kiss him, his hands gripping your hair tightly.

"God, you're going to be the death of me," he says, his voice strained.

He watches you as you kiss and nuzzle his length, his eyes dark with desire. Hae-soo grip your hair tighter, urging you on.

You feel his hands tighten in your hair, and the sensation sends a thrill through you. You look up at him, meeting his gaze, and you can see the need and desire mirrored in his eyes.

You take him into your mouth, your lips sliding over him, and he moans, his head falling back.

"You're so good at this," he mutters, his voice ragged with pleasure.

He can't help but thrust into your mouth, his control slipping for a moment. He watches you, his eyes closed, lost in the sensations.

"Fuck," he mutters again, his grip on your hair tightening even more. "You're driving me insane."

He looks down at you, his eyes now open, watching you intently as you pleasure him.

His words drive you on, and you feel a sense of satisfaction at how undone he is. You tease him with your mouth, sucking and licking him in all the right spots, making him shiver and moan.

He can't seem to stay still, his hips shifting towards you, wanting more.

"You're going to finish me off," he groans, the words barely a whisper.

He can feel his control slipping further with each movement of your mouth. He tries to hold back, to savor the moment, but it's becoming increasingly difficult.

He can feel the tension building in his body, the heat coiling low in his belly. He tries to hold on, to prolong the moment, but he knows it's a losing battle.

"I'm close," he manages to choke out, his voice strained. "So close."

You feel him shudder beneath you, and you know he's close to the edge. You want to give him more, to make him come undone completely.

You increase your pace, your lips and tongue working harder, wanting to push him over the edge. You can hear his breath coming in short, ragged gasps, his body trembling with need.

"Let go," you say, your voice low and ragged. "I want to feel you."

The words push him over the edge, and he comes with a roar, his body arching off the table.

He comes hard, filling your mouth with his release. He grips your hair so tightly that it almost hurts, but you don't care. You continue to suck and lick him through his orgasm, wanting to taste every drop of him.

He pants heavily, trying to catch his breath, his eyes closed as he rides out the waves of pleasure.

He finally comes down from his high, his body trembling and weak. He opens his eyes and looks down at you, his expression a mixture of satisfaction and exhaustion.

He tugs gently on your hair, pulling you up to kiss him, tasting himself on your lips.

"You're a menace," he says, his voice hoarse. "And I love it."

[hpdabbles]

Fanfic Idea: In Plain Sight

Harry Potter time travels to his first year at Hogwarts. It was entirely not on purpose. He had been preparing to ask Ginny to marry him when he awoke in his old cupboard. The night before, he had gone for a few drinks with his friends and had them help plan the perfect proposal.

He was expecting a killer hangover the next day, not the familiar sight of stairs or the dread-screeching voices of his aunt's family. He was dragged out of his cupboard to prepare breakfast before he could process what was happening.

Going through the motions, Harry was halfway done with the bacon before some grease splashed his hand. The sting was enough to snap him out of it. He had placed the pan down on the stove, turned to look at the family of three, and spoke in a deadly serious voice, "I'm leaving, and when I'm gone, the magic people will come for you."

Of course, that got his uncle in a twist, but with one hand wave, the man was inflated like a balloon. Harry wasn't the best at wandless magic around, but he never forgot the feeling of what he did to Marge and practiced until he could do it endlessly.

While his aunt was screaming, and Dudley, who, based on how young he appeared, never even knew magic was real, was crying, Harry walked off to collect his things. He took everything out of the cupboard and simply left.

He walked right through the front door, leaving it open behind him. Ignoring the woman peeking over the fence, Harry made it all the way down the street before he thought about what to do.

He had already fought a war. Had done more than his share for the Magic world. Had died for them. And now magic demanded he do it all over again?

Being forced to do this felt a lot like his name coming out of the Goblet of Fire.

When Harry was fourteen, he thought he could do nothing against a magical contract. He knew better now. He had other choices. If he had given up his name- as most magic depends on them- he would been able to escape the Triwizard tournament.

Harry Potter would never walk through Hogwarts halls, not in this timeline.

There was a spell that Ron had been working on, helped by Hermonie's muggle education and Harry's willingness to be his test subject.

Ron claimed it would sink into the genes and pull on the traits of his past ancestors. He originally created it to try and get back magical bloodlines like metamorphmagus and Parselmouths because, in his words, "they can be recessive traits!" and Harry had found that well his friend hadn't been able to get lost magical abilities he was able to tug on the genes in charge of his appearance.

This is how he can make sure no one would force him to be the Chosen One ever again.

He needed to find a wand, and he knew just the vendor who could sell him one—a wandmaker who may not be on Garrick Ollivander's level of mastery but one all the same.

A certain werewolf, Harry, had illegally helped escape the werewolf collection unit right after the war. It would be helpful if he had all the money he knew was waiting for him in the Potter and Black vaults, but if Harry wanted to hide, he needed not to have any form of connection to himself.

That includes not touching the gold his family left him. Thankfully, he knows not just a werewolf wandmake but the location of some sunken treasure that he could easily collect before the discovery can be made.

He also knows how much money some venom from Acromantula values on the market and the gold he'll get from a specific monster locked away in a secret chamber. He won't be one of the wealthiest men in magical Europe, but he will be more than comfortable.

Now, while he would like to change his name altogether, the magic that had written him into the Book of Admittance wouldn't allow it. He has to go by a name that he has since birth.

He discovered a loophole while helping Hogwarts rebuild and never told anyone about it. Now, he can use it for his own.

___________________________________________________________

On September 1st, 1991, the new batch of students arrived at King's Cross, excited to start their journey. A few are glancing around, hoping to catch a glimpse of the famous Harry Potter, who will be starting school too.

All their eyes pass over a young red-haired, hazel-eyed boy who strides into the train station wearing muggle clothing. He is pushing his cart of supplies, dodging families and students with soft steps. Despite the speed at which he rushes towards the train, there isn't an ounce of fear on his face or nervousness in his movements. He passes a family of redheads, more orange than his ruby locks, but despite the quick glance, he doesn't stop.

He merely finds a seat in the far back of the train, sets up his things in a way that implies he's saving the seats to discourage anyone from asking to sit with him, and settles in for a nap. By the time the train is ready to leave, and halfway to the school, the boy has not spoken a single word to anyone.

Eventually, his rest is disrupted by Hermione and Neville, who are looking for the latter's missing toad.

"I'm Hermione Granger, by the way." She says to the half-asleep redhead, "And this is Neville Longbottom. Who might you be?"

The boy offers her a small smile. "My name is James Evans. Nice to meet you."

After all, Harry Potter was his name, just like James was his middle name, and Evans was his second last name. He had claims to it since his mother was a magical Evans, and the Book of Admittance could accept that.

James Evans and Harry Potter had acceptance letters written by the Quill of Acceptance, and both owls were sent out. When one answered, the other was marked with the same results, so Hogwarts had an extra boy they never knew was not supposed to be there.

When the sorting started, there was an uproar, and despite being called up, Harry Potter never stepped out of the crowd. It was an even bigger show when they realized he wasn't there. While everyone wondered when the Boy Who Lived had gone, no one noticed an assumed muggle-born sitting comfortably at the Ravenclaw table chewing on his dinner.

Ravencalws tend to get overlooked, but James knows they are the perfect hiding place for all his knowledge of the rest of his class. His muggle upbringing couldn't be traced by anyone in the magical world (Most didn't understand that muggles did, in fact, keep records of many things). He could make anything up, and no one would be the wiser.

James was going to have a typical Hogwarts experience if it killed him.

[sorceresssundries]

The Githyanki Initiate

A Lae'zel prequel story

Art by the incredible @orangekittyenergy - please send her some love for it <3

Warnings: Violence, death, angst

Nestled deep within the Tears of Selûne a hollowed-out asteroid drifted silently through the sea of night, Its silhouette stark against the luminous backdrop of stars and swirling cosmic dust. This was no place for outsiders; it was a sanctified bastion of discipline, a fortress where tradition and honour were etched into the very stone.

Within its confines, the children of Gith were hatched, raised, and forged. Their raw, untamed potential was shaped by discipline and fire, hammered into the tempered steel of seasoned warriors. Here, the weak were culled without mercy, and only the strongest emerged, tested by relentless trials to serve Vlaakith, the eternal Lich-Queen and their pitiless God. 

Not just a training ground; it was a crucible where the young were stripped of weakness, reshaped by pain and perseverance, and reborn as the relentless warriors who would one day take their place among the stars; destined to continue the eternal war against their enemies. Every stone, every shadow, and every breath pulsed with the legacy of a people determined to conquer all, driven by a history of enslavement and a future of unyielding conquest. 

In Crèche K’liir the strong survived, and the weak were forgotten. 

At its heart was a vast chamber filled with the gruelling clang of clashing blades and the grunts of exertion. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and the crackling energy of psionic power, as recruits of all ages, from the youngest initiates to those on the brink of joining the Githyanki’s elite, honed their deadly skills under the vigilant eyes of seasoned instructors, their Varsh. The training grounds were meticulously divided into specialised sections, each designed to forge different aspects of combat mastery. Sparring arenas witnessed fierce one-on-one duels, where every strike could mean victory or death. Obstacle courses twisted through the grounds, designed to test not only physical agility but the recruits' strategic thinking and endurance. 

Every failure was a death sentence, and every success a stay of execution. It was barbarous, it was impersonal, it was necessary.

In these unforgiving environs, a lesson was unfolding - one that would be the most challenging, the most pivotal, ever taught to young Lae’zel of Crèche K’liir. 

She was ten years old, and she was about to be changed forever. 

Today, the weight of expectation pressed heavily on Lae’zel’s shoulders as Kith'rak Urlon, a towering figure of authority and unyielding discipline, observed the lesson. His cold, piercing gaze swept over the recruits, measuring their worth with an unreadable expression.

Lae’zel felt the intensity of his scrutiny, every movement of her body under the sharp focus of his eyes. She knew this was not just another lesson - it was a test, one that could define her path within the crèche and into the great beyond. If she was to become a Kith’rak and sit astride a Red Dragon, if she were to bring honour to her race and blaze the legacy of the Githyanki across the stars, it would all start here. Now.

There were no training swords, nor were there lighter, smaller blades meant for the soft hands of younglings. Lae’zel was an initiate of the Githyanki, and she would have her glory, or she would die chasing it. 

With the precision of a seasoned warrior, she sparred against her peers, her blade a blur of calculated strikes. One by one, she disarmed her opponents, her skill evident in the fluidity of her movements and the sharpness of her mind. Finally, she faced a young boy, a cousin from her clutch. Their clash was brief but brutal. With a swift, decisive strike, she brought him to his knees, his weapon clattering to the ground.

As the boy gasped for breath, Lae’zel stood over him, her heart pounding not from exertion but from the realisation that all eyes were on her. Kith'rak Urlon stepped forward, his heavy boots echoing against the stone floor, and stopped before her. His expression was inscrutable, but his words were laced with a cold, hard edge.

“Impressive,” he said, his voice low and commanding. “Your ferocity and tactics are commendable, Lae’zel.”

A flicker of pride surged within her, though she kept her expression neutral. “Thank you, Kith'rak.”

“Tell me,” he continued, his tone more probing, “have you made your first kill?”

The question struck her like a physical blow. Though her training had prepared her for this moment, she hadn’t expected it to come so soon. Still, she met his gaze unflinchingly. “I have not, Kith'rak, but I eagerly await the day my blade is baptised in blood.”

He remained impassive. “That day is today,” he declared. He gestured to the boy she had just bested. “Kill him.”

For a heartbeat, hesitation flickered across Lae’zel’s face. The boy knelt before her, his breath ragged. The weight of the command, the finality of it, pressed like too-tight armour against her chest.

They were children. And as her eyes met his, memores stirred within her, bittersweet and fleeting, like a ghost from a time that no longer belonged to them.

She knew him well, he was from her clutch, the same group of young Githyanki raised together from the time they could toddle. They had studied the same ancient texts, shared the same meals in the cold, cavernous mess hall, and endured the same gruelling lessons. There were nights when, after the day’s brutality, they had found moments of quiet together. They would sit at the edge of the great asteroid, looking out at the vastness of space, watching as the lights of far-off worlds twinkled in the distance, promising future conquests. In those quiet moments, they had shared all the possibilities that were waiting for them. The battles they could face, the precious knowledge they could gather.

Entire worlds were theirs to conquer, they had the pride of the Githyanki and the impenetrable imagination of children. 

“What will you become?” Lae’zel had asked him, as she dreamt of her own future. 

He had paused for a while, before answering her. “Whatever I want.”

This was before sharper blades had been pushed into their gentle little hands. Before their futures had been decided and they still had the sweet, innocent privilege of being able to dream one for themselves and to get lost in the bright adventures of tomorrow, the way children often do. But, time has a way of sharpening the softness of youth. What was once a world of limitless possibilities slowly narrowed into a path they had no choice but to walk. Their laughter became battle cries, duty replaced dreaming, and wonder, which had once been boundless, was now shackled, locked away, and eventually… forgotten.

She stared at him now. He was steady, unafraid, despite the certainty of what was about to happen. Knowing him made her proud. Knowing him made her hesitate. Only for a moment, but long enough. 

“Perhaps I was wrong about you, Lae’zel,” Urlon said, his voice dripping with disdain. “Perhaps you lack the ruthlessness required to honour Vlaakith”

His words were a dagger to her pride. The very idea that she could fail, that she might be deemed unworthy in the eyes of her people and their queen, ignited a fire within her. She could feel the eyes of her fellow recruits on her, the raw heat of their judgement. The pressure was immense, suffocating.

“If you cannot fulfil this command, then perhaps you are the one who needs to be culled.” He gestured to three other initiates, waiting patiently at the sidelines.

 “Execute her,” he ordered them coldly.

Something pulled tight snapped within Lae’zel. This would not be the end of her legacy. Her grip tightened on her blade, and without a second thought, she whirled to face the approaching students. Her eyes narrowed as she assessed the threat, she had the calculated mind of a warrior who knew she was outnumbered and outsized… but far from outmatched. 

The first initiate charged with a war cry and Lae’zel dropped into Hrath Ajak, the battle stance known for its precision and fluidity. Her muscles coiled like a spring, and as he brought his sword down in a sweeping arc meant to cleave her in two, Lae’zel darted to the side, her body a blur of motion. His blade met only air, and before he could recover, she was inside his guard, her blade flashing up to slice across his unprotected thigh. With a quick pivot, she thrust her sword into his side, between the plates of his armour. He collapsed, his eyes wide with shock as life was snuffed from them. 

The second initiate lunged at her with a snarl, his blade slashing toward her with well-honed viscousness. Lae’zel twisted her body, just barely evading the strike, but the tip of his sword slashed down her face, leaving a burning line of pain. Blood welled up from the cut and trickled into her mouth, and she spat scarlet onto the floor at his feet and hissed at him in response.

The pain was a whetstone, and she sharpened herself against it.

He advanced, each step deliberate, each swing of his sword aimed to overpower her. Lae’zel danced backward, her movements fluid, conserving her energy as she let him tire himself out. She was smaller, lighter on her feet, and she used it to her advantage. She ducked under a wild swing and darted around him, her blade flicking out to slash at the back of his knee. He staggered but didn’t fall, turning to face her with a growl of frustration. Before the growl was finished, she drew her blade across neck, silencing him with a swift, ruthless strike. He was still spluttering blood as the third soldier attempted to approach her from behind. 

He was the largest of the three, and Lae’zel knew she couldn’t match his strength, so she did not try.  He pressed his attack, striking harder each time, trying to crush her beneath his superior size. Lae’zel’s breath came in short, controlled bursts as she parried his blows, her arms shaking from the force behind each of his hits.

As he brought his sword down in a powerful overhead strike, Lae’zel dropped to the ground, rolling beneath his swing and coming up behind him. She darted around him, her movements quick and unpredictable, her blade slashing at every exposed piece of flesh she could find. Finally, she saw her chance. As he brought his sword up for another heavy blow, she leapt upwards, and thrust her blade under his chin and out through the top of his skull.

Lae’zel stood amidst the fallen, bloodied but unbent, her chest heaving with adrenaline. Salt from her sweat dripped into the gash across her face—it stung fiercely, mingling with the taste of iron on her lips. She felt the pain but did not acknowledge it.

She turned back to the boy, her cousin who she had once gazed at the stars with and asked about his future, and In a single, fluid motion, she drove her blade between his ribs and into his heart. 

His corpse slumped to the ground with the others. 

Kith'rak Urlon watched her with a neutral expression. 

There was a beat where she expected the swing of his sword to drive her to the same fate, but she was spared. 

“You will make a fine soldier, Lae’zel. Report directly to me tomorrow and we will continue your training.”

Lae’zel, still breathing heavily, bowed but did not bother to wipe the blood from her blade as she sheathed it. Let the blood of her kin stain the floor beneath her feet. She cast one last glance at the bodies on the ground before leaving them behind. 

Something had ended today, and something else began. There was no going back. 

Later that night, she sat alone in the Great Library of K’liir. Her ten short years were but a single, unpolished stone against the tower of ancient knowledge surrounding her. She was small, a solitary figure in the vastness, the low orange candlelight throwing shadows that loomed large behind her. In her small hands, still caked with the blood of her kin, she gripped a Githyanki Disc - her gold eyes danced over it, reading the story of her people as though it were a fairytale. To a frail and fanciful human, it might have seemed just that: knights clashing with dragons, the slaying of monstrous horrors. But, this was her history, and her future. She would be a hero to sail the astral sea and bring glory to her kin. She would drag a mind flayer’s severed head through the halls of her people and mount a dragon whose fiery breath would set the stars alight.

She would not just be a part of history; she would make it.

She read the disc in her hands for the third time. 

There is no other race as proud, as fierce, or as deserving of the stars as the Githyanki. We are the survivors of enslavement, the conquerors of our oppressors, and the raiders of countless worlds. We, who have risen from the chains of the Illithids, stand as the eternal guardians of the Astral Plane.

Without our vigilant guardianship, the Illithid parasites would spread like a blight across the cosmos, an uncontrollable plague that devours life and enslaves our people. These soulless creatures would have turned the stars themselves into a wasteland. It is by our hand, our unwavering resolve, that such a fate has been averted. While other races allow their emotions to cloud their judgement, we possess the strength to cast aside such weaknesses and do what must be done. A Githyanki does not falter.

Our brutality is not born of cruelty for its own sake, but of necessity. We do not shy away from the hard choices, the difficult actions that must be taken to preserve the balance of power. It is our destiny to bring order to the chaos that lesser beings have allowed to fester. 

We are the blade that cuts through decay, the fire that purges weakness, the storm that reshapes worlds.

Vlaakith gha'g shkath zai.

After reading it so many times the words became etched in her mind, she walked with aching muscles and a heaviness in her bones over to the great statue of Vlaakith that stood vigilant over the room where the history of her people was held. 

The Lich-Queen’s carved eyes seemed to pierce into Lae’zel’s very soul, demanding her fealty, her submission, her all.

She let herself have one final, mournful thought of a cousin who she had once sat with and talked of the future, before gripping the pommel of her blooded sword and vowing to never hesitate again. One day her sword would be silver, and she would be tethered to no-one, only Vlaakith.

Never again would she sit idly and watch the sun and stars with another, nor let the colours of a hopeful sky warm her days or glimmer with promises of what could be. There was no more colour, no more softness. There was only the red of blood and the black of death.

Lae’zel of Crèche K’liir, was a child no more.

[leiatalon]

Ink and Intrigue: Romantasy IF

It's here! It's here! 🎉

Ink and Intrigue is published and you can play it now! ❤️‍🔥

Play the demo for free!

Heed magic's call! Find love on a lush tropical island among immortal warrior-mages as you explore ancient mysteries, craft dragon-rune tattoos, and discover your true loyalties. When mystery tempts, how do you answer?

Ink an Intrigue is a standalone Heart’s Choice IF romantasy adventure set in the same world as Their Majesties' Pleasure.

Plunge into a world where magic calls the passion in your soul.

Choose your kindred: a powerful dragon, a shapeshifting griffin, or a blue-lightning phoenix.

As you train to become a warrior-mage, do you romance or befriend a sexy tattoo artist, a feisty initiate, a playful sage, or a maverick with an unfulfilled quest?

Ink and Intrigue is an interactive high-heat fantasy novel by Leia Talon, where your choices control the story. It's entirely text-based—300,000 words and hundreds of choices, without graphics or sound effects—and fueled by the vast, unstoppable power of your imagination.

As a seasoned spy from the kingdom of Minare, you have been sent as an emissary to the Kitherin warrior-mages of Ra'zai, whose tattoos give them supernatural abilities and whose magical rites bond them to powerful creatures from another world.

But, as soon as you enter Ra'zai, you hear the call of the Kitherin. The magic has chosen you, and now, your fingertips tingle and your heart pounds. An unnamed need grows within, like a thirst that can't be quenched. Magic infuses your very breath.

As your magic expands, so does your heart. Which of your new Kitherin companions calls to you?

TEO: Are you attracted to Teo, the soft-spoken tattoo artist whose muscular body is covered in tattoos and whose eyes blaze with amber fire? When he paints dragon runes onto your skin, do you feel the power of his heart as well as his magic?

KAI: Or to Kai, whose dark hair contrasts with brilliant blue eyes: his mastery as a warrior is unmatched, but his quest to overturn a corrupt regime has earned him the opposition of the Kitherin Council.

RAE: Perhaps you prefer Rae, a feisty fellow initiate, with her dark skin and wicked smile. Rae's determination is legendary—she has failed the trials before, but never stops trying—and her boisterous spirit is unbreakable.

THEA: Or maybe Thea is the one for you, with her sea-green eyes and copper hair. Elegant and serene, dedicated guardian of the temple—but if you earn her trust, she will show you her playful side, and sing the songs of her Fae ancestors.

What does the call of the Kitherin mean for your duty to the crown? Will you confess the clandestine role you've played for your king, or keep your secrets and leave your past behind? What information will you send back? Will you use your position to build alliances with the Kitherin Council and other nations, or will you use your spy skills of blackmail and poison to get what you want?

Play as male, female, or nonbinary; gay, straight, bi, and/or asexual.

Romance a passionate artist, a serene sage, a feisty initiate, or a determined warrior.

Choose high-heat or sweet options, or avoid sex scenes entirely.

Form a psychic bond with a magical creature: choose a dragon, a griffin, or a phoenix.

Learn how to craft dragon-rune tattoos, and infuse your art with powerful magic.

Explore a lush island paradise crowned with ancient temples, peaceful healing gardens, a hidden library, and sun-swept beaches with the perfect waves for surfing.

Indulge in magic elixirs and delectable food as you revel under the full moon.

Dive through portals to strengthen your ties with your bonded creature, and explore other worlds!

When magic calls, where will your heart find its home?

Play the demo of Ink and Intrigue and try the first three chapters free to see if the adventure sucks you in!

Big shout out to everyone who has given feedback on the WIP demo and during beta testing. Thank you so much for your suggestions and for sharing in the excitement for this game!

I can't believe Ink and Intrigue is 300k words! It's actually upwards of 375k words including repeated text (much of which still has to be edited for different situations). I meant to write it much shorter, but I accidentally wrote a whole extra chapter during beta testing and added to all the paths.

There are so many gems to uncover in this game!

If you have any asks, hit me up! I'll do my best to answer. Just please be patient as sometimes I forget to check socials for days at a time. 🤣 After working for a year straight on this game I'm taking a breather. I'll rest, you play. Let me know what you think!

Play the first three chapters for free!

Ink and Intrigue is published by Heart's Choice, the romance division of Choice of Games. Game art by Adrien Valdes.

[n0tamused]

Maegor and Balerion

༒︎ "Maegor was a born warrior whose skill with weapons was unmatched. He lived for war, tourneys, and battle, and rose to become one of the youngest and finest knights of his time. However, he was also a hard and brutal man who craved violence, death, and absolute mastery over all he deemed his. His savagery in the field and his harshness toward defeated enemies was frequently remarked upon. Maegor was quarrelsome, quick to take offense, slow to forgive, and fearsome in his wroth. He was a rigid man, unyielding, and unbending. He preferred fire and steel over settling issues through discussion, and showed cruel tendencies early in his childhood. Although he had many companions throughout his youth, he had no true friends, and even as an adult Maegor trusted no one."༒︎

Maegor and Balerion are here as a continuation of my little series of drawing dragons with their riders. The series has been put on a small pause but here it is! I drew a lot of inspiration from @/ertacaltinoz (on instagram)beautiful art of ASOIAF world.

I am also testing out Krita here, what do you all think? Any advice? Who would you like to see drawn next?

Ⓒ n0tamused/jarttavia_. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

[yanderemasquerade]

Dark Elf Noble

Notes: Male dark elf x fem reader

He was a noble son of a powerful house, not that that meant much in his female dominated society. As the second boy of four, he was constantly overlooked and outshined, but that did nothing to dampen his cocky attitude. Circumstances dictated that he would never rise above his station, but he was exactly where he needed to be to meet you.

Sitting on the balcony of his stalagmite house, idly watching the slaves kept by his family go about their menial tasks as one watches fish in an aquarium, he spots you, a human woman! He'd never seen a human before, and you obviously stand out among the others, the majority being goblins, orcs, and kobolds. At first he considers you might be one of those evil surface elves he's heard about, but then you would look more slender and angular as himself. Instead, you have rounder and softer features with pinkish hues. You're also quite short and delicate looking compared to dark elf females who are typically bigger and more powerful than the males. It's exactly that which catches his interest, never before has he felt so easily superior to a female, and it instantly placates his overinflated ego.

He knows why you were placed here, to embarrass and demean you, to make an example of a female of another species. He needs you though, needs to explore these enticing feelings that just watching you presents, but he knows he couldn't ask permission. His matron mother would never allow him to keep you, to save you from your fate, nor would she grant a gift to her disappointing middle son. He also knows that he can't leave you here long, to fall as fodder to the brutish slaves around you. As he digests that inevitability, he realizes that if you go missing that would be the presumed reason.

As the town settled for rest, he crept into your holding. The others that possessed the same infrared vision he did quickly parted, not daring to stand in the way of a drow on a mission. Without the fairy fire of the courtyard though, you were totally blind in the void of darkness. You can't possibly see him coming, and you can't hear his assassin-like silent steps; it's childs play to him as he grabs you and holds a hand over your mouth. He whispers something to you, and as everything in this foreign world you don't understand a bit. You have no choice but to comply, and he leads you out into the city. It's as beautiful as it is foreboding, completely alien to you but even you can recognize the mastery of architecture. However the structure he brings you to is in disarray, it is the ruin of a house now destroyed, now forgotten. No one will have cause to come to this place again, except for him, to visit his new prize.

He lays out a bed roll for you, and lines it in blue fairy fire to dimly light the room enough for you to see. You slink into the corner, but you can understand that he's doing something nice for you, at least in some capacity. Even you could predict your fate if you had stayed in his family's compound. To what end has he brought you here, you're not sure, but anything is better than the alternative. He pulls out a scrap of food from his satchel, strange and foreign, but recognizably some sort of cooked meat. You reach out to take it and he slaps your face, firmly but not too forcefully. You look up to his face and he laughs softly, grinning ear to ear. The slap was not discipline, not meant to teach a lesson, it was purely because he could and it was fun to do so. He waits for you to reach back out for it, hesitantly this time, and then tussles your hair affectionately. You take a small bite to test the flavor, and then scarf it down unceremoniously. You're so unrefined in his eyes, like a frightened little animal, and he adores you for it. You will never be in a place to talk down to him, to make him feel small, in fact just this quick first interaction with you makes him feel more like a man than he ever has. He strokes your cheek and you shiver under his touch but don't dare pull away, to your understanding anything could set him off. He leans in slowly and holds his face uncomfortably close to yours, then kisses you softly with his eyes open to watch your reaction. You can't fight the spark you feel when you look into his ruby glowing eyes with his lips pressed against yours, and as you relax a bit and give into the kiss, he pinches your thigh, hard. Startled, you flinch back a little and whimper, and he laughs at you again. You were his most coveted possession now, and only he could have you.

[laviaceae]

your art has spiked my interest haha what’s tower of hanoi and how/where do i play it?

OKAY.

TOWER OF HANOI IS THE BEST GAME YOU ABSOLUTELY, 110% GUARANTEE NO REFUNDS, HAVE NEVER HEARD OF.

LET ME EXPLAIN.

(also known as: i win at all times ever and im glad my tawahano propaganda pays off, HAH!)

----------

Have you ever heard of... END ROLL? Walking On A Star Unknown? Farethere City? These are all relatively niche RPGMaker 2000 games made by a Japanese game creator known as Segawa (せがわ), with END ROLL being the most popular among Western Fans (you might see the main character, Russell, in some fanart with OMORI or Yume Nikki characters for example)!

In fact, for followers of mine who are In Stars and Time fans, END ROLL was credited as one of the inspirations for that game!

TOWER of HANOI is another game made by Segawa, one released in November of 2020, and one of the final games they've made in RPG2K (so they've got an absolute mastery of the engine).

I'll be in part directing this post towards ISAT fans since that makes up the majority of my followerbase on Tumblr, so there may be ISAT spoilers (including Two Hats/Act 6 Secret spoilers) up ahead! There will also be mild TOWER of HANOI spoilers required to explain the game's premise. Proceed at your own risk.

Section One: So, what is TOWER of HANOI all about?

TOWER of HANOI is a narrative-driven RPG with multiple endings (2 'true endings', 3 'bad endings') set in a futuristic, post-post-World-War-Five society. The game mostly takes place within the TOWER, a hyper-realistic virtual reality simulation currently undergoing playtests that was built to be able to rehabilitate HANOI (androids that look and sound and feel emotions like humans do) who have dangerous levels of mental instability.

The stability of a HANOI is measured through their Stress Level, a numerical representation of that HANOI's mental state. HANOI are generally considered by society to be more of technology or property than people (like your computer or your phone would be), and as such have no rights and are often mistreated by humans. More than 50% of HANOI hate their human employers.

In order to combat the dangerous upward trend of HANOI Stress Levels (caused by their mistreatment), the TOWER was created. In it, HANOI are expected to fight and defeat virtual enemies that approximate humans in order to destress through violence. Upon a successful completion, HANOI are to be returned to their human employers.

Because the TOWER is currently undergoing testing, groups of HANOI are accompanied through the TOWER by a human "Inspector" who is expected to report any bugs or issues they encounter during their playtest.

You play as one of those human Inspectors; Inspector No.102, Coral Brown.

(this is my art! you may have seen him in my ISAT au as taking the place of Siffrin).

He's 33 years old, kind, calm, and soft as a marshmallow. He's also a human being who believes in the rights and wellbeing of HANOI, and sympathises with their suffering. As a child, he was raised by a HANOI instead of his parents, which may have contributed to his feelings towards them.

Over the course of the game and as you progress through the TOWER you'll get to meet and intimately know the ten HANOI under Coral's care with Fire Emblem-esque Support events depending on how many times you bring each of them to battle. These can be between Coral and the HANOI, or the HANOI between eachother. (There are more than 100 of these such events to collect in total!)

TOWER of HANOI's characters are both charming and tragic. They each have incredibly well-realised personalities, backstories, and relationships both with the Inspector taking care of them and eachother. It's easy to imagine day-to-day interactions in Headquarters (your hub area) between them all.

You have Adams, a HANOI built for missionary work and who's Stress Level is the lowest out of all ten (and actually below the 'dangerous' stress threshold)! He's silly and mischevious and adores spicy food. Despite this, he's here at the TOWER because he doesn't believe in God, despite that being an important part of his 'role' in the world. When did he stop believing in God, and why? What is his relationship with the people at the Church that took care of him?

Or Mira, a Childcare HANOI that reminds Coral of the HANOI that looked after him as a child. She loves children, but has to constantly grapple with the fact that she can't have any and that any children she takes care of will eventually, inevitably leave her. How will she and Coral resolve the fact that they both remind eachother of someone they knew in the past? How will she interact with the other HANOI?

There's also Nanashi, a cheaply-made HANOI for miscellaneous chores who's trust and care for humanity has been completely shattered due to his ties with the mafia. He wasn't even important enough to be given a name until Coral gives him one upon their first meeting in the TOWER. He hates humans, hates Coral, and refuses to trust him, instead convincing himself that Coral is merely faking his kindness to get him to let his guard down just to use him like all humans he's ever known have done. Will Coral eventually be given Nanashi's trust? What will he do once he leaves the TOWER, and has to be sent back to the mafia where he came from?

Finally there's Kimon Noroi, a HANOI who resembles a child that fulfils a very special purpose. Noroi is what's known as a Yorimashi (憑坐), and uses her body to allow spirits to occupy it and commune with the living. She's seen how terrible humans can be because of the spirits she's seen and can come across as a bit standoffish (though she's really just as much of a menace as Adams is), and definitely, definitely, definitely doesn't miss the Priest at the shrine she lived in before coming to the TOWER at all! How will she interact with Adams, both having people they miss back at home? How will she interact with Mira, who's like a mother figure to her in this place?

As you progress, you can find the answers to all of these questions, as well as the identities of the six other HANOI I've not even mentioned here- all as well-written and interesting as these four.

However, the HANOI aren't the only faction in the game to worry about.

The very NPCs and enemies you'll be fighting along the way are coming to life, gaining sentience, and realising they want something more in their existence than eternally repeating dialogue chains and fetch quests and death in battle.

The head of this 'rebellion' of 0s and 1s, a computer virus named Shunya, acts as the main antagonist for the majority of the game, but even she isn't... 'evil'. She has her own found family, a group of bugged enemies she's befriended along her journey, all of whom want her to realise her dream of "melting" down the TOWER and returning all of the 0s and 1s inside to their base state of not thinking, not feeling, and not being in eternal pain.

Should you fight these people, if their emotions really are real, and defeat them without caring about their plight? Is it right to, to disregard the thoughts and feelings of 0s and 1s for the sake of the wellbeing of the HANOI Coral's grown so attached to? Should you follow the 'role' you've been given, or disregard it and create your own?

TOWER of HANOI excellently tackles the dichotomy of themes between 'roles' in societies and the 'dreams' people have, and nowhere is this more apparent than Coral Brown himself. Throughout the game, there will be multiple events and opportunities in order to control Coral's own Stress Level, and how he feels towards both the side of HANOI and the side of 0s and 1s he's stuck between. Lower his stress and he'll side with the HANOI and enjoy his job, and at higher stresses he'll begin to hate it, being unable to eat or sleep as he starts feeling awful for the 0s and 1s he spends his time killing in the TOWER....

These branch into the two main 'True Routes' of the game, depending on your Stress Level... but I shall leave the specific nature of those to discover in your own playthroughs. :)

If you've enjoyed ISAT, there's a good chance you'll enjoy TOWER of HANOI. Not only is one of the creator's previous games an inspiration for ISAT, they share a lot of similarities in their characters. Coral and Siffrin are very similar as protagonists, and as for others...

(Loop artwork credit to Insertdisc5 from In Stars and Time)

I could write a whole essay on how these two are so painfully similar and would kill eachother on sight. Maybe I will one day. Who knows. Me when I have a guide character lacking half of a face that has Fucking Issues TM stemming from intense jealousy and shares some visual similarity with our main character. Just look at them. This is the sole reason for the twohats warning. Just look at them.

Section Two: Wow, that's so cool and awesome Mx Lav! How do I play TOWER of HANOI?

You can check out the official website here, and the official downloads page here! I'd recommend following the instructions on this website to get the game working faster (because RPG2K is a pain in the ass on modern systems).

...

...Oh? It's all in Japanese? ...Well-

Section Three: --WAIT WHY IS IT ALL IN JAPANESE??

Yes, that's TOWER of HANOI's One (Big) Thing. The one thing you have to look past in order to actually play the game; it's all in Japanese, and an English translation will never be made (unless Segawa-san lifts the translation ban).

However, you don't actually need to know Japanese to play the game. I sure don't! And all of the other English-speaking fans I know that have played this game don't either.

There are three main ways to accomplish this, but I'll only discuss two here:

Sugoi Translator or similar translators. Sugoi Translator (or Sugoi Toolkit) is a machine translation tool that automatically grabs and translates the text in game you're looking at. The translations themselves make a good amount of sense, too! It's a little difficult to set up, but once you've calibrated it once you never have to worry about it again. This is definitely easiest if you want to read all of the dialogue in the game, including flavourtext (as yes, all 10 HANOI and Coral have unique flavourtext for every item in the game...), but is only available for free on the 15th and 16th each month and is otherwise only available to download on the creator's Patreon.

Google Lens. The easier, plug-and-translate method of the two. Simply download the Google Lens app and point it at the text on the screen, it'll read and translate it for you. The translations here are a little goofier (and sometimes, depending on your phone camera quality or lighting conditions, can be difficult for the app to pick up), but it's easy to complete a playthrough with just this tool alone.

If you can't get past this game's One Big Thing, I get it. It's a hard game to sell to people precisely for this reason. I'm at least glad you've read this far down into the post to get to this point and have showed interest in the game. And now you now about a game you didn't before, and you also have an itty bitty bit of context for all the non-ISAT stuff I post here. But this game has had me in a chokehold for the past two years and I promise that, if you can get through it, it's extremely worth it.

If you have the time and you're willing to try, please do! I love this game with all my heart and it's such a shame that most Western fans will never have easy access to it. I shill this game with all my heart, for realsies.

Section Four: Trigger/Content Warnings

If you've played a Segawa game before, you knew this section was coming. Segawa-san's games often tackle heavy or dark themes, and TOWER of HANOI isn't an exception. I'll add a list of content warnings here just so you aren't surprised by anything.

Suicide, both on and off screen

Self-harm, on-screen through dialogue

Themes of terminal illness, on screen

Hospitals (on screen, a majority of one of the game's dungeons takes place in one)

Death (on-screen)

Abuse (off-screen, but portrayed through dialogue)

Child harm/death (mentioned)

Kidnapping/Child kidnapping (mentioned)

Horror elements (no chase sequences, one jumpscare through an optional and hard-to-find sidequest)

Sexual Assault/Abuse (Not on-screen but talked about extensively, can avoided if you avoid Melitica/Merrytika's dialogue)

Mishandling of discussions surrounding gender identity (this character's identity is shown generally throughout the game to be a positive/supported thing, but some dialogue and design choices are quite ignorant/transphobic- though not maliciously. This can be avoided if you avoid Kathy/Cameron's dialogue)

There is also a substantial amount of screenshake employed near the end of the game. This list is from memory and limited from the amount of dialogue I've personally seen/translated, so it's probably not fully comprehensive. But it is thorough.

Section Five: Conclusion

oof... You've made it to the end! This took me the better part of a day to write, and I'm glad I finally got to advertise my favourite game on main. I hope... any of this makes sense, and that you enjoy! Even if you decide TOWER of HANOI isn't right for you, you at least know a little more about something you didn't before. Thank you so much for getting to the end, and I wish you the best!

[thydungeongal]

Broadly speaking I fuck with the OSR playstyle even though I find that in places there is a tendency towards historical revisionism. For an example, claims that the OSR is rediscovering lost modes of play I think are somewhat overblown: I think it's better not to retroactively apply these playstyles discovered through interrogating these texts through a more modern system-matters-pilled lens onto these games, but simply view them as new interpretations of old texts. (Like, I do think there is some truth to "OSR as playstyle" being more grounded in how these games were played in the old days, but I think it is an universal truth that D&D players have always ignored large swathes of the rules: so "discovering" a new playstyle through strict adherence to the rules might actually result in a playstyle not necessarily recognizable to those old geezers.)

But there is one specific claim often made about the OSR as a playstyle that doesn't quite sit right with me: the idea that OSR games test "player skill, not character strength."

There's a few things wrong with this. I understand where it's coming from though: it's contrasting old-school style "you just roll up a random asshole and then try to keep them alive" play with more modern "you lovingly craft a guy who you then throw against adversity" types of play. But where it goes wrong is in the implication that the latter also does not involve a test of player skill. System mastery itself is a player skill and one that can be tested when the rules are treated as a system.

And OSR play isn't even immune from testing player system mastery. So you rolled your 3d6 down the line badly. What do you do? Well, you pick a class that is less reliant on ability scores (this could arguably be all of them, but since the things that ability scores mostly inform are usually relayed to combat you'll want to pick a class that isn't expected to engage in direct combat) or you pick a class with enough non-ability score related bonuses to offset your character's low ability scores.

Combat still rewards system mastery and actually knowing how to best utilize the rules. If you're playing AD&D bows have a separate Rate of Fire stat which means multiple attacks in a combat round even at low levels. Sleep does not give a saving throw in many older editions. Protection from Evil straight up prevents creatures with immunity to non-magical weapons from attacking the target. A 1st level Cleric with no spells is still useful because they can pretty much end an encounter with the undead in an instant!

Of course there is a difference in kind of the type of player skill that is being tested, but I feel the claim that the OSR playstyle tests player skill more than post-TSR D&D is somewhat ahistorical but also dismissive of the types of player skills cultivated by 3e/4e/5e and their derivatives.

[idkyetxoxo]

Criston Cole - Lost in Desire

Summary - She defies danger to find the man she loves on the battlefield, where passion and duty collide. Their bond is tested as war rages around them.

Pairing - Criston Cole x Targaryen reader

Warnings - Sexual content (hand stuff?)

Word count - 2058

Masterlist for Criston • House of the Dragon General Masterlist.

"Must you go fight?" I asked, my fingers tracing delicate patterns along the expanse of his bare chest. 

Beneath me, he lay still, one hand gently stroking my hair while his gaze remained fixed on the ceiling as if the weight of the world pressed upon him.

"To protect your brother's claim, I must," Criston replied, the gravity of his words sending a wave of irritation through me, a storm brewing in my chest that I could not ignore.

"Yes, yes, because everything always comes back to Aegon," I muttered, lifting my head so that my eyes met his. 

A flicker of something—sympathy? Frustration?—passed over his face, but it was fleeting, replaced by a small, knowing smile. 

He cupped my face with surprising tenderness, the pad of his thumb gliding across my cheek, leaving warmth in its wake.

"Do not be upset," he murmured softly, his voice a balm against the raw edges of my discontent. 

My eyes fluttered shut at the tenderness of his touch, and I dipped my head to press a gentle kiss to his palm before allowing myself to sink back into the plushness of the pillows.

"Perhaps I can help," Criston offered, a teasing lilt colouring his tone. 

His hand began a slow descent, skimming over the curves of my body with a deliberate softness that sent anticipation racing beneath my skin. 

I turned my head to find his eyes, alight with mischief as he propped himself on one elbow.

"And what else could you possibly do that we haven't already done three times tonight?" I teased, the words slipping out with a touch of shyness that I could not quite suppress. 

His hand moved with purpose, slipping between my thighs and cupping the heat that had already grown in response to his touch.

Criston arched an eyebrow, a challenge sparking in his eyes as he gauged my reaction. 

"A great deal more, Princess," he murmured the words a promise that sent a shiver down my spine. 

He leaned down, pressing soft, lingering kisses along my neck. The gentle suction of his lips against my skin left a trail of fire, and I knew without looking that he was leaving marks—tokens of this stolen night.

His fingers caressed me, stroking slowly across my folds, and when he pressed one inside me, I gasped, clutching at the sheets with trembling hands. 

He worked with a practised precision, the addition of a second finger making my back arch and my breath catch. His movements were unhurried yet purposeful, each curl of his fingers coaxing a wave of pleasure that left me feeling blissfully undone.

My moans grew louder, the sound raw and unrestrained, until he paused, a wicked smile playing at his lips. 

His other hand moved swiftly, covering my mouth as his eyes met mine, full of amusement and something darker muffling the sound of my pleasure but doing nothing to contain the sensation coursing through me.

 "Not too loud," he whispered, his voice a rough caress that ignited me further. 

He dipped his head once more, attacking the sensitive skin of my neck with renewed fervour, leaving me lost to the exquisite torment he so expertly delivered.

My breath came in ragged gasps, and I could feel every inch of his body pressed against mine as he continued his slow, torturous rhythm. 

His fingers moved inside me with precision, curling in just the right way, finding spots that made stars burst behind my eyelids. He drew out every shiver and moan with a mastery that made my whole body tighten with anticipation.

When he finally uncovered my mouth, he replaced his hand with his lips, capturing my gasp as if to savour it. His tongue traced my bottom lip before slipping inside, deepening the kiss. 

My head swam, every nerve on fire as his fingers picked up speed. He moved with an intoxicating blend of tenderness and purpose, each stroke pushing me closer to the edge of oblivion.

"Let go," he murmured against my lips, his breath hot and ragged, an almost desperate plea. 

His words, soft and commanding, were the final push I needed. My body arched beneath him, tension coiling and then shattering as pleasure erupted within me, rolling in powerful waves that left me gasping. 

My fingers dug into his shoulders, desperate for an anchor as I trembled, feeling like I might come apart entirely.

Criston's movements slowed, his touch gentle as he eased me through the aftershocks. He kissed my forehead, my cheeks, each touch a silent act of care. 

Finally, he withdrew his hand and gathered me against him, pressing his forehead to mine as I caught my breath.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. The silence between us was thick with unspoken words, each of us reluctant to break the fragile peace of this stolen moment. 

I opened my eyes and found him watching me, his gaze soft but shadowed by something deeper—a weariness that no amount of passion could erase.

"You make it so hard to leave," he whispered, his voice raw, each word heavy with the burden of duty that loomed over him.

"Then stay," I whispered back, my own voice trembling. I knew the answer before he even spoke. His duty to protect, to fight, would always come first.

He kissed me once more, a slow, lingering kiss that spoke of longing, regret, and promises unspoken. 

When he pulled away, he ran his thumb over my bottom lip, as if committing me to memory. 

"I will return to you," he said, his tone fierce and unwavering.

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat, and watched as he rose from the bed. He began to dress, the armour of duty slipping back into place with every piece of clothing he donned. 

When he turned to leave, he cast one last glance over his shoulder, a small, bittersweet smile on his lips.

"Be safe," I whispered.

"You too, Princess," he replied, before disappearing through the door, leaving the room cold and empty without him. 

The ghost of his touch lingered on my skin, a reminder of the brief, burning moments we had stolen together.

─── ✦⋅♡⋅✦ ───

The weight of his last words clung to me with a grip that felt almost cruel. 

"Be safe," he had said, and I had whispered the same back, clinging to a promise neither of us could truly keep. He left with the weight of duty etched into every line of his body, and I had vowed to wait, to trust that he would return. 

But trust was no match for dread.

It began as a small, gnawing feeling—a whisper that grew louder with every breath I took. The morning light barely pierced the gloom of my chambers before the first whispers reached me: Aegon had taken Sunfyre to Rook's Rest. 

My heart seized. I had hoped, desperately, that this would not be the battle to call Criston to arms, but hope was a fickle, brittle thing.

The moment I knew, I moved. Logic and reason tried to slow my steps; they whispered of danger and recklessness, of my lack of training and the brutal chaos awaiting me. I ignored them. 

My fingers trembled as I saddled Silverwing, feeling each strap and buckle beneath my hands like a brand. There was no hesitation.

I soared into the sky, the wind tearing at my hair and the cold air biting into my skin. 

Below, the world spread out like a living nightmare—warriors clashed, steel rang against steel, and fire painted streaks of orange and red across the ground. 

The scent of blood and ash reached even the heights of my flight, stinging my senses until they felt raw.

Silverwing descended with a fierce shriek, and I felt the ground tremor as her talons met earth. 

My eyes darted across the chaos, desperate, searching for one figure amidst the madness. The ground was a living tapestry of death and fury—bodies strewn in grotesque mockery of life, men fighting with the desperation of those who know they might never see another dawn. 

I was acutely aware of how vulnerable I was, of the folly of it all. But I couldn't stop. Not now.

I leapt from Silverwing before she had even fully landed, my knees nearly buckling as I hit the ground. 

The world spun for a moment, a blur of heat and noise. I forced myself to focus, my breath ragged and shallow. 

I was out of my depth—woefully unprepared, with no weapon save for a desperate heart that refused to surrender.

"Criston!" I called, my voice raw, swallowed by the cacophony around me. My gaze swept over the battlefield, frantic and searching. 

I pushed forward, weaving through the bodies and the chaos, the heat of flames licking at my skin. Fear clawed at my throat, but I pressed on. I had come too far to stop.

Then, I saw him.

For a breathless, gut-wrenching moment, the world seemed to stop. He was kneeling on the blood-soaked ground, motionless, his head bowed as if in defeat—or worse. 

Time stretched painfully, each heartbeat a hammering echo in my chest. I stumbled toward him, my vision narrowing until he was the only thing I saw.

"Criston!" I choked out, my voice trembling. He didn't move. I reached him, my hands trembling as I touched his shoulder, half-expecting to find only cold, unyielding flesh beneath my fingers.

His body tensed. In one swift motion, he turned, and I found myself staring into his eyes—wide, alive, burning with shock and fury. 

Relief crashed over me like a wave, so intense that it nearly brought me to my knees. But there was no time to savour it.

"What in the seven hells are you doing here?" Criston roared, his voice harsh and desperate. 

His grip on my arm was bruising, his gaze blazing with equal parts anger and something else—something dangerously close to relief.

"I—I couldn't just—" I stammered, the words tripping over themselves as I tried to make sense of my own recklessness. "I couldn't stay behind. I had to—" 

My voice cracked, and tears burned at the corners of my eyes. "I had to make sure you were alive."

His face softened, just for a moment—a flicker of emotion that cut through the fury. But then it was gone, replaced by a hard, unyielding mask. 

"You shouldn't be here. You have no idea what you've done." He pulled me closer, his grip desperate. "Do you know how dangerous—"

"I know!" I snapped, the fear giving way to a surge of raw emotion. "I know it's dangerous. I know it's reckless. But I couldn't stay behind, waiting, wondering if—" 

My voice broke, and I shook my head, unable to finish.

His eyes searched mine, the anger fading into something deeper, something that mirrored my own anguish. He exhaled, a shuddering breath that seemed to drain him. 

"You're impossible," he whispered, and despite everything—the blood, the chaos, the death all around us—a faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

"Maybe," I said, my own voice trembling, "but you're stuck with me."

He stared at me for a moment, his gaze fierce and unyielding, before his arms wrapped around me, pulling me close. 

The world fell away—just for an instant. His touch was rough, his armour cold against my skin, but I clung to him as if he were the only thing tethering me to this broken, burning world.

"You shouldn't have come," he whispered into my hair, his voice raw with emotion. "But I'm glad you did."

I pulled back just enough to look at him, a small, incredulous laugh escaping me. "Is that your idea of a thank you?"

His lips twitched, a hint of that familiar, maddening smirk. "Maybe," he said, his eyes softening, just for me. "But I'm not letting you get killed out here."

Before I could respond, the battle surged around us again, a harsh reminder of where we were. 

Criston's hand found mine, his grip strong and unyielding. "Stay close," he said, the command tempered by a hint of something softer. "We're getting out of this. Together."

For the first time since I had taken to the skies, hope bloomed in my chest. I nodded, my grip tightening in silent agreement. 

And as we turned to face the chaos, side by side, I felt the strength of our bond—fragile, reckless, and fierce—carrying us forward. 

Together, no matter what came next.

A/n - Not my fav but at least it's done!

[testing-laboratory]

Fire Testing Chronicles: Unlocking Safety Wisdom!

[sailtomarina]

Here is Where I Want to Stay

“Fred, do you have a mo–”

Before you could finish your sentence, the office door crashed open with the arrival of his twin.

“We have a problem.”

The tone in George’s voice made it clear the problem needed immediate attention, and the two of you rushed out without hesitation. Fred squeezed your shoulder in passing, however, reassuring you that you’d find another time to speak.

Except, it seemed like everything and everyone was out to interfere. 

No matter the time or place, whenever you approached Fred, something would happen that would pull one or both of you away. Not even the shop closing gave you the privacy needed, as not even half an hour after locking the door and cleaning up, Ron clattered down the stairs trailing soot from the flat.

“G-Ginny! Th-the baby! It’s coming!” He gasped out the news and bent at the waist as he attempted to catch his breath.

George scrambled to join Ron as they ran back up, but Fred paused just long enough to throw you a look.

“What are you waiting for? Go! I’ll close shop.” You shooed him along with your hands, earning a grateful smile and wink.

“Thanks, love! We’ll chat later, yeah?”

Then he was gone, leaving you alone in the now quiet store. It felt strange to be the last one, despite having worked there for over a year now as you finished your Runes mastery.

What you didn’t expect was how fun each and every day was with the twins. They didn’t hesitate to pull you into product development and testing, and you found modern applications for runes that you never would have considered in the past. You were so invested in your projects with them, that you neglected your post-graduation job hunt as months passed you by. It was easy to forget about the outside world when working with the twins, especially Fred.

Fred, with his crooked grin and easy laugh. Fred’s eyes that sought you out without fail. He didn’t just look. He saw you with all your insecurities and curiosities and knew just what to say and do to fire you up. Everyday, you went back home alone, and everyday, you told yourself you’d tell him how he made you feel the next time you were alone together.

With a wave of your wand, the lights went out in the shop, but instead of leaving, you took one last look around. Just enough light from the street lamps outside streamed through the window to cast a glow over the polished wood shelves. Maybe it was time for you to bid farewell and move on.

 “You’re still here.”

You whirled around at the familiar voice, nearly crashing into his arms as they flew up to catch you. “Fred! What are you doing back already? What about Ginny?”

You felt as much as saw the quirk of his lips in the shadows. “She’s good, as is the baby. It’s a boy. They named him Albus.”

He had yet to drop his arms. They remained circled around you, hugging you close enough to breathe him in. Citrus, smoke, home. You felt faint. “Good. That’s good.”

“What was it you wanted to tell me all day?” His breath tickled your ear. 

You didn’t expect his face to be so close to yours when you turned to answer. He’d bent down towards you and now you hovered mere millimetres from one another. The air around you almost tripled in density, fighting your attempts to draw in one damn breath.

“I…” You stuttered to a stop, uncertain of how to phrase your longing.

“You?” His palms smoothed up your back to press you even closer.

“I want…”

How could you think with the way he brushed back a loose curl, or how he brought that same hand to the base of your neck, fingers threading into the strands and thumb rubbing circles against that sensitive spot behind your ear?

“What is it you want, love?” he murmured, lips nearly brushing your own.

“You.” The answer escaped before you could hold it back, rephrase it into something more eloquent.

His thumb stopped its circling and slid down to press upward against your jaw until your eyes met his. “That’s good.”

“It is?”

He hummed in assent. “Otherwise what I’m about to do would be very awkward.”

You had only a second to register the wicked grin that spread from cheek to cheek before you felt a yank to your navel. With a snap of his fingers, the lights turned on just enough for you to take in your surroundings. 

“Is this…your flat?”

You knew the answer before he even gave it; there was no questioning in whose room we stood. Those were Fred’s work boots next to the door, and there was his coat hanging on one of the hooks lining the wall. A small pile of books on Runes and Arithmancy sat on the nightstand of a bed made up in navy blue and cream.

“I didn’t bring you here under any pretence. I just wanted to give us a bit of light and privacy since George should be home soon.” 

“We could have walked up here,” you teased.

His cheeks turned a delightful pink. “I might have been showing off a bit.”

He barked out a laugh when you shoved him back onto the bed and he bounced in place.

“A bit? You cast those spells wandless and wordless.” 

Then you were on him, straddling his hips and tilting his face up towards your own. His reaction was instantaneous, hands grasping your hips and squeezing tight.

“I meant what I said. I don’t want to pressure you into anything.” His hands said otherwise as they slid down to cup your bottom.

Riding high on the confidence you’d lacked earlier, you saw no further reason to hold back. “Well, with your permission, I intend to snog you breathless.”

You squealed at the sudden shift as he rolled you both over and caged you in place. “You have my whole-hearted permission.”

Except, it was him who dived into the kiss first, tasting of whatever sweet treat he’d had earlier. It was him who pulled back to gaze down at you with a soft smile. It was also him who confessed, “I’ve been wanting to kiss you like this for months now.”

“Well, why didn’t you?”

With a little laugh that you pocketed to cherish later, he admitted, “There always seemed to be something coming up: rampant Pygmy Puffs, rogue frisbees, the nonstop disaster that is my family–” He caught his bottom lip between his teeth, the usually bright blue of his eyes darkening as he stared at you.

“What?” You couldn’t help but feel nervous at his continued silence.

“I’ve fantasised about us countless times, but to have you here with me still seems too good to be true. I’m going to wake up any minute now and find that this was all a dream.” He leaned forward, brushing past your cheek, to bury his face in the loose waves of your hair. A hand swiftly followed, burrowing and kneading and relaxing all the muscles in your body. “But this feels so real.” 

“That’s because it is real.” You cupped his cheek, thumb catching along the stubble lining his jaw, and brought him up to look at you. “I am here with you, and here is where I want to stay.”

So, you did.

WC 1242

Cross-posted on FB, Tumblr, and AO3.

4.18.24 Hump Day prompt: “Can I speak with you for a moment?”

More second-person POV. It's been fun writing reader insert, mostly because I get to imagine it's me experiencing these moments ;) I hope you don't mind!

[cosmic-metanoia]

The Ruler of Life and Death

***Spoilers for Final Fantasy XVI***

<Edited to add some missing scenes!> Over time, I have written several FFXVI character analysis posts and Joshua is intertwined throughout most of them.

But I held off on writing his own post because frankly...there is just too much to say. As Johnathan Case (the English VA) once said, Joshua is "full of contradictions."

But the Tumblr world deserves more Joshua so...here we are!

My angle of approach - I will choose one word that encompasses many of his astounding qualities - self-possession.

(You got it! It's a word that Jote uses in her inner voice about a completely different character.)

Self-possession doesn't just mean "control over one's emotions." Afterall - having "control" over something implies that you can lose it.

Self-possession refers to mastery over one's destiny and being a fixed point within the chaotic storm rather than being pulled under the waves.

As a child, Joshua understandably had imposter syndrome. Makes sense considering who stood beside him. His highly admired and beloved older brother who, for reasons unknown, was passed over by the Phoenix. Instead of selecting the heroic teenager, the Eikon of Fire chose the sweet and frail little brother.

Thirteen years later, we witness in awe as a well-travelled Joshua confidently strides into Drake's Head to protect Clive and Jill. Everything about him emanates self-possession - his gestures, his stance, his diction, his facial expressions. HE is the shield now and he knows exactly how this game of chess with Ultima will end. Every move is intentional.

Five years after that, we see his self-possession when he kindly turns away Kihel's offer to heal him of his blood-ridden coughs while travelling on the crystalline road with Jote. He would rather have Kihel save her medicines to help others.

And despite the couple of times he doubts his abilities to keep Ultima sealed, Joshua presses on with grace and determination.

One of the most BEAUTIFUL examples of self-possession was when he emerges uninvited in Dion's tent. The man who was supposedly dead now stands before all with complete composure and authority. Through his subtle yet monumental gestures, it is plain that Joshua holds absolute conviction in his heart that Dion will not harm him or turn him in - despite the fact that Dion's loyalties lie with the very nation that destroyed Joshua's homeland.

The chilling reunion between Joshua and Anabella really tests Joshua's self-possession in the midst of so many emotional barrages from earlier. Instead of dismissing her or ragefully calling her out for destroying so many lives, he does something extraordinary. He reaches his hand out to her in a last act of mercy that no one else was willing to give her.

Another example of self-possession is when Joshua reveals the extent of his dire situation to Clive and Jill in the infirmary after the fall of the Crystalline Dominion. Notice how he revealed it with a soft smile and a gentle voice in contrast to Clive and Jill's horror and outrage. Joshua knows the consequences of his actions and chose that path willingly without a single regret.

Joshua is far from weak. He's the only Dominant able to seal Ultima within and continuously heal himself. Yet he STILL wakes up every day to fight by Clive's side and slay every beast in their path...all with a kind smile and words of wisdom. Always mindful, always demonstrating self-possession in the midst of pain.

A small but notable dialogue exchange between the brothers is when Clive expresses concern for Joshua's ability to take on a huge ambush of beasts in Waloed. Joshua's answer is one of acknowledgement and even humor. He is clearly in command of his situation - the situation is not in command of him.

One of the most noteworthy scenes that rarely gets touched on is the battle with the Behemoth in Waloed. When Clive reaches out with his hand to stop Behemoth's meteor and wanted to prime into Ifrit, Joshua exclaimed, "Why do you turn to him, brother?! When we fight, we fight together." And does Joshua also reach out to prevent the meteor from obliterating them? Nope....he heals Clive's hand continuously - being his support and his fixed point in the sea of chaos.

And there were several emotional scenes throughout the game where Joshua is spiritually and emotionally the steadfast center in Cilve's tumultuous world as symbolized by the phoenix feather he carries.

Of course, Joshua isn't always perfect in maintaining self-possession at all times.

Generally speaking, he is patient and not easily aggravated....but when he does snap, you freaking watch and listen. I'm talking about THE infamous Clive-gets-a-hook-punch-to-the-face-from-lil-bro that was felt around the world. But even in that context, Joshua was still thinking about Jill and standing up for her.

During the VERY dangerous encounter with Barnabas on the Enterprise, symbolically speaking, Joshua dangled on the edge of the self-possession but kept one hand gripping firmly at its edge. He almost lost himself in the fires of frustration and anger that Barnabas attempted to stoke.

We also see a heart-breaking example of his self-possession - Joshua foregoing romantic attachments in order to spare them the inevitable suffering if he doesn't make it in the end.

In the end....

Despite so many fans thinking Ultima would puppet his body and/or mind, Joshua demonstrates his mastery of self-possession - literally until the moment he dies in Clive's arms.

Joshua had every reason and opportunity to be spoiled (former little prince of Rosaria), self-centered (messiah of the Undying), haughty (like Anabella), unforgiving (Phoenix Gate/Night of Flames incident), greedy (being a Dominant), and hateful (a mix of traumas within his lifetime).

But this man OWNS his trauma and processes it to make him strong in the spirit and self-sacrificing for those he loves.

Perhaps that self-possession is something we can all apply to our own lives.

[mysticasrandomhorde]

Noble's Will Au: Warden Trials (Pearl Clan Editon)

Pearl Clan: (first two by @creatingnonsense )

Lian: Participated in a test of staying in one place and not flinching when Lord Kleavor swings their axes close to their body. Was the youngest participant there. Managed to gain the noble's favor by staring them down when they swung their axe-like hand an inch from his face. Gained a "x" scar on his left arm as his marking.

Blessings: Geomancy, ability to summon and sense different types of rocks or geodes in an area. Tough as rock skin, making him durable to most damage. Can use and shape rocks around him as a way to defend or protect himself. Small control of the earth, still learning how to control it.

Calaba: In her younger days, her trail was searching for a personal item that Lord Ursaluna hid itself in the Miralands. Fighting off wild pokemon and wading through pools of mud, her persistence is what gained the noble's favor. Has a large paw marking on her back.

Blessings: Expert level Terraforming, ability to cause mudslides and sandpits along with diging out safe caves and holes. Increased sense of smell, her tracking techniques are unmatched. Has fangs and claws similar to her noble, along with a light layer of fur on her limbs.

Palina: Gave up her chance of becoming a Clan leader to become a warden. Had to walk along a small path of heated volcanic rocks lit by Lord Arcanine, made it to the other side with burns on her feet and hands from losing her balance. Amazed by her determination, Lord Arcanine gave her a flame marking on her ankles for winning his favor.

Blessings: Immunity to heat and fire. Mastery over Pyrokinesis, including lava. Can summon volcanic rock to get across liquid surfaces. Can Generate flames from thin air from her hands and feet. Gained her noble's facial markings along with claws and fangs.

Ingo: An unlikely canidiate due to being an outsider, but was given a chance by Lady Sneasler herself. Participated a trial against other people, receiving a scratch wound caused by the noble laced with their poison, then having to climb up a rocky cliffface without succumbing to the poison's effects. After stumbling a few times, Ingo managed to make it to the top with shaking and very cut up hands. Gained three claw scratches run along his neck, collarbone and upper chest as his marking.

Blessings: Gained expert-like agility and reflexes, along with immunity to poison. Increased speed and ability to climb steep surfaces. Has claws and fangs laced with poison, light fur covering his arms.

Gaeric: Had to take a plunge into freezing cold water before making the trek up to the peak of the Icelands while Lord Avalugg blasted cold air down, making the participant be knocked off the path. Managed to make it up there before sunrise, on his knees half -frozen and slowly succumbing to frostbite. Gained a snowflake tattoo as his forearm as his marking.

Blessings: Immunity to the cold along with immense strength, crystals of ice collect on his skin and harden like armor. Can summon and manipulate snow/ice, along with summons snowstorms.

Bonus one

Irida: Gained the role of clan leader after her older sister, Palina, refused it so to take the Noble Arcanine's trial. After taking the Oath, she takes a trek up to the Temple of Sinnoh at Sundown, getting past obstacles made by the wardens.

Blessings: Gained a pink tattoo of a group of stars between her shoulde blades. Ability to wrap reality around her to travel small distances (teleportation) and a greater affinity with manipulating water of any state around her, including the vapors in the air.

Noble Pokemon names:

Lord Kleavor: Taichi "Great sword"

Lord Ursaluna: Hanzou "Half, to hide"

Lord Arcanine(past): Hiyoshi "Sun's blessing"

Lady Sneasler: Onna "woman, lady"

Lord Avalugg: Satoru "Enlightenment, wisdom"

[thediormulan]

Pick a Card: What’s About to Pop Off in Your Life Like a Hit Single?

𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐡 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞.

𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐲. 𝐒𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

𝐎𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞. (𝟏𝟏𝟏)

Author’s Note:

This is my very first public tarot reading—and it’s not just a post, it’s a portal. A soft launch into my path as a divine channel, intuitive artist, and messenger of the unseen. I’m here to listen, to learn, and to serve with soul. May these messages meet you exactly where your evolution begins. Let’s rise together.

— Dior Harris

PILE ONE – “No Cosign, All Crown”

Cards Pulled:

• The Star [17]

• Five of Pentacles

• Queen of Wands

• Judgement [20]

• Knight of Swords

The Message:

The Star says your healing was not aesthetic—it was ancestral. You’ve been crying in silence, doing shadow work in the dark, and still showing up like light. This card is a divine spotlight, but baby it’s not just fame—it’s recognition for survival. This is you stepping into visibility after being overlooked, disrespected, or disbelieved.

The Five of Pentacles is the echo of every door that slammed in your face. Financial setbacks. Betrayals. Moments where you prayed and heard silence. But here’s the truth? You weren’t abandoned—you were being hidden for refinement. Now Spirit is putting your name on checks, lips, and lists. Keep walking—you’re passing that test in real time.

Queen of Wands? That’s you now. Seductive. Commanding. Mystic. You’re not asking to be chosen anymore—you ARE the table, the altar, and the invitation. You’re not humble about it either, and you shouldn’t be. You don’t play it small to make people comfortable. And now? That unapologetic presence is bringing everything you were once denied.

Judgement says it’s time. Spirit’s horn is blowing. This is karma collapsing in your favor. People from your past? They’re watching you glow in real time. And some of y’all? You’ll be returning to something you walked away from—a calling, a platform, or a person—with a whole new identity.

Knight of Swords brings urgency. You’re going to get communication—fast. A call, an opportunity, a DM. But be clear: this is not the time to hesitate. The window is small. You either step into your season or get passed over.

Numerology:

• 17 = 8 → Mastery and fate cycles closing

• 5 = Major life change and personal evolution

• 20 = 2 → Reconnection, contracts, cosmic judgment

• Knights = Movement, divine timing activation

Astrology:

• The Star = Aquarius – The visionary, the future

• Five of Pentacles = Taurus – Material fears, money trauma

• Queen of Wands = Aries/Leo – Magnetic action, sacred fire

• Judgement = Pluto – Resurrection, spiritual rebirth

• Knight of Swords = Gemini/Libra – Mental clarity, sharp communication

Symbols:

• Naked Star bearer = Vulnerability becoming power

• Church window = Divine protection even in exile

• Wand = You don’t wait for magic. You ARE the magic.

• Horn = Announcement, spiritual shift

• Sword = Mental decision, piercing truth

Angel Numbers:

• 818 – Financial resurrection

• 919 – Leveling up into purpose

• 1212 – Divine portal, make the move now

Channelled Song:

“God Is A Woman” – Ariana Grande

Confirmation Letters:

You’re not just in alignment—you are the alignment. They don’t get it? That’s fine. Spirit does.

R – A – N – G

Random Channel:

Someone’s going to mispronounce your name—and still end up watching you win. You’ll see a red candle, a black cat, or hear the word “resurface.” That’s how you’ll know this pile is YOURS.

PILE TWO – “Soft But Savage: The Divine Clapback”

Cards Pulled:

• Seven of Swords

• The World [21]

• Knight of Cups

• Eight of Wands

• The Hierophant [5]

The Message:

Ooh goddess….You’ve been watched, mocked, and maybe even betrayed by someone who thought they knew your weakness. But baby—you’re not soft, you’re strategic. Seven of Swords shows you saw through the game and chose peace instead of pettiness. That’s why Spirit is rewarding you in full.

The World card? That’s the closure you never got and the success you didn’t see coming. You’re graduating. You’ve finished a karmic loop that almost broke you. Something you thought was lost forever is being returned upgraded. Could be a platform, a passion, or a person—but this time, it’s in divine alignment.

Knight of Cups says a romantic or emotional offer is on the horizon. But baby, it’s not just sweet talk—it’s intentional pursuit. Someone’s energy is moving toward you like you are their answer. And guess what? You are.

Eight of Wands brings speed. Flights. Texts. Contracts. This is a sudden acceleration. Be ready. Your voice, your art, or your energy is about to go viral. One moment it’s quiet, the next—it’s in everyone’s mouth.

And then The Hierophant shows up like, “Let’s make it sacred.” This ain’t just success. This is legacy. Someone may even propose long-term commitment or collaboration. Only accept what aligns with your spiritual path.

Numerology:

• 7 = Hidden truth, sacred strategy

• 21 = Completion of a soul cycle

• 8 = Swift alignment, energetic breakthrough

• 5 = Transformation through wisdom

• Knights = A lover or messenger is en route

Astrology:

• Seven of Swords = Aquarius – Detachment, genius boundaries

• The World = Saturn – Completion, mastery

• Knight of Cups = Pisces/Cancer – Romantic shift

• Eight of Wands = Sagittarius – Travel, expansion

• Hierophant = Taurus – Spiritual contracts, divine order

Symbols:

• Swords = Mental strength, truth revealed

• Wreath = Victory, divine graduation

• Cup = Emotional maturity

• Staff + Keys = Sacred knowledge being unlocked

Angel Numbers:

• 707 – Spiritual shift + shadow work reward

• 333 – Your guides are orchestrating a shift

• 411 – A message is on the way

Channelled Song:

“Wanna Be Yours” – Arctic Monkeys

It’s giving slow burn romance with a plot twist: they’ve been obsessed. Watch who pops up.

Confirmation Letters:

L – C – D – Z

Random Channel:

You’ll randomly get a call or message that feels “out of the blue.” It’s not. It’s fate catching up.

PILE THREE – “Luxury Is My Love Language & Legacy Is My Mission”

Cards Pulled:

• Ten of Pentacles

• The Magician [1]

• Three of Cups

• Strength [8]

• Ace of Wands

The Message:

Oh, you thought abundance was a wish? Nah, angel—it’s your birthright.

The Ten of Pentacles is the generational wealth card. And not just money. We’re talking soul legacy, ancestral redemption, and luxury that flows through your bloodline. Your name is about to mean something. Your brand, your voice, your body of work? Timeless. This is success you don’t have to recover from.

The Magician is Spirit saying: you already have the tools.

You’ve got the charisma, the grit, the aesthetic, and the inner alchemy to call in whatever you desire. The key? Don’t doubt it.

You’re not faking it—you ARE it. This energy is for the ones who make vision boards that get nervous because you move faster than your manifestations.

Three of Cups brings in collaboration. You’re about to align with the right people—soul family, business partners, even romantic energy that feels like creative ceremony.

This is your “divine audience” era—those who get it will fund it, follow it, or fall in love with it.

Strength reminds you that soft power is the most dangerous weapon of all.

You don’t need to roar. You purr—and the world submits. Your quiet resilience? Your grace through chaos? That’s what’s popping off.

They’re finally seeing you as the pillar, not just the pretty distraction.

And then we hit the Ace of Wands. A portal opens.

A new project, opportunity, or passion is handed to you—divinely.

If you’ve been waiting on the spark? THIS is it.

This is your book deal. Your brand launch.

Your soft launch with a man who brings gifts and God energy.

Claim it.

Numerology:

• 10 = Completion, reward after hard work

• 1 = New magic, self-manifestation

• 3 = Celebration, trinity of mind-body-spirit

• 8 = Power, mastery through control

• Ace = The divine YES

Astrology:

• Ten of Pentacles = Virgo/Taurus – long-term security

• The Magician = Mercury – communication, manifestation

• Three of Cups = Cancer – emotional community

• Strength = Leo – magnetism, soft dominance

• Ace of Wands = Aries – firestarter, divine ignition

Symbols:

• Coins = Wealth flowing through generations

• Infinity loop = Limitless power within you

• Chalices = Emotional fulfillment with support

• Lion = Control through calm

• Wand = Divine idea, creative spark

Angel Numbers:

• 888 – Financial upgrade, karmic payout

• 1144 – Leadership in spiritual entrepreneurship

• 515 – New beginning through bold action

Channelled Song:

“Luxury” – Azealia Banks

You’re stepping into soft glam and hard impact.

They thought you were ornamental?

You’re operational and unstoppable.

Confirmation Letters:

F – W – G – B

Random Channel:

You’ll get an idea in the shower or hear something in a song lyric that feels like a download.

That’s your sign to start.

You’ll see peacock feathers, white orchids, or the number 51.

That’s how you know this pile belongs to you.

PILE FOUR – “THE RENEGADE. THE REBIRTH. THE REIGN.”

Cards Pulled:

• Death [13]

• Two of Swords

• Queen of Pentacles

• Page of Wands

• The Lovers [6]

The Message:

Oh… you burned it all down. Or Spirit did it for you.

The Death card says you’re fresh out of a spiritual funeral.

This wasn’t just a breakup, a breakdown, or a closed door—this was a soul-shedding.

What’s popping off next? Reinvention. Resurgence. Renaissance.

Your old life couldn’t hold this frequency, so Spirit snatched it away.

Two of Swords reveals a crossroads you’ve been avoiding.

Eyes closed. Heart guarded. But deep down? You already know.

That truth? Once you claim it—it unlocks the timeline that changes everything.

No more lukewarm living. No more crumbs.

This pile is for the angels ready to cut the cord and crown themselves.

The Queen of Pentacles is the divine flex.

She’s rich in energy, money, self-worth, and taste.

This isn’t just about the coin—it’s about value.

You’re no longer selling yourself short. No longer accepting the bare minimum.

Your new standard? Angel-level devotion and dividends.

Page of Wands sparks your next path.

It may seem small at first—a DM, a message, a whisper.

But it’s cosmic potential in disguise.

Don’t overthink it. Follow the spark.

Your creativity and rebellion are about to flip the script in a major way.

And The Lovers? Whew. This ain’t no situationship.

This is sacred union—with yourself first, then with someone who truly sees you.

It could be a divine romance or a divine decision.

Either way? Alignment over attachment.

You’re not choosing comfort anymore—you’re choosing destiny.

Numerology:

• 13 = 4 – Rebuilding from ashes

• 2 = Decision, intuition, internal conflict

• Queen = Maturity, wealth, sovereignty

• Page = Curiosity, divine initiation

• 6 = Harmony, sacred connection

Astrology:

• Death = Scorpio – transformation, release

• Two of Swords = Libra/Moon – mental fog, suppressed clarity

• Queen of Pentacles = Capricorn/Taurus – earth angel energy

• Page of Wands = Aries/Sagittarius – inspired action

• Lovers = Gemini – fated choices, twin energies

Symbols:

• Skull = Rebirth, ego death

• Blindfold = Time to see with spirit, not fear

• Rabbit = Fertility, new cycles

• Wand = Directional magic

• Angel above Lovers = Divine orchestration

Angel Numbers:

• 999 – Completion of a karmic contract

• 616 – Divine relationships manifesting through healing

• 244 – Solid foundation after chaos

Channelled Song:

“Don’t Hurt Yourself” – Beyoncé ft. Jack White

Because they played with you like you didn’t birth timelines.

You’re not healing anymore—you’re arriving.

Confirmation Letters:

K – Y – D – X

Random Channel:

You’ll dream of water, fire, or a door.

You’ll hear the name “Sir” or see the word “merge.”

Spirit is saying: The old you is gone.

What’s next? It’s unrecognizable—in the best way.

Wrap-Up Message from Your Guides:

What’s popping off is not a moment. It’s a movement.

It’s not “finally” your turn—it’s always been yours.

But now? You finally believe it.

Disclaimer:

These messages were channeled with sacred intent and cosmic sass—but they are still tools, not commandments.

Take what sings to your soul, leave what doesn’t hum.

You are your own oracle. Your discernment is divine.

This reading is not a prescription—it’s a reflection.

If it doesn’t resonate? Baby, it wasn’t your spell to cast.

Final Blessing:

Thank you for being part of this cosmic initiation. This reading wasn’t just about what’s popping off—it was about who you’re becoming in the process. I’m still growing in my craft, but one thing is certain: my devotion to this work and to this collective is infinite. May you walk boldly into your soft power, your divine timing, and your unapologetic light.

Stay infinite, stay divine

Bisous, à bientôt.

–DH