#best ground staff course

[skytechaviation]

Welcome to Skytech Aviation, where your journey towards excellence in aviation begins. As one of the preferred institutes in availing the best training for Cabin Crew, Ground Staff, and Hospitality professionals, Skytech endeavor's to make the aspiring experts in the aviation field more competent with the skill, knowledge, and confidence for meeting the requirements of excellence in their profession.

Our vision at Skytech Aviation is to have empowered aviation professionals across the world, all of whom are adequately equipped to deliver the best for customers and safety in the skies. We would uphold a unique standard in the training of aviators by refining industry experience through innovative teaching methods.

Prepare for a Rewarding Career In Growing industries like : Cabin Crew Hospitality Gound Staff with Skytech Aviation Certified Courses

📍Visit Our Campus - Delhi, Kolkata, Ranchi, Raipur, Lucknow, Ahmedabad, Guwahati

[bestairhostessacademy]

Students interested in pursuing a diploma in airport management can pursue several courses offered by leading colleges and institutes in India, including the Tritya Air Hostess Academy. The institute offers a comprehensive program that covers both the technical and managerial aspects of aviation, preparing students for careers in a range of positions.

[topcrewneel]

Airport Ground Staff Training: Skills, Courses, and Career Growth

Gain insights into the top training courses, essential skills, and career growth for airport ground staff. Learn about certifications and job opportunities in airport operations.

[skillsetterinstitutesworld]

Air hostess training institute

Skill Setter Institute is a best air hostess training institute in Mumbai. we offer a range of air hostess courses in Mumbai, catering to the diverse needs and aspirations of our students.

Air hostess course near me

Airline management courses

Self confidence builder

Airport ground handling

Diploma in aviation

cabin crew courses in mumbai

[reasonsforhope]

"Tilia is a vest-wearing conservation dog that the 444-acre [Mequon] nature preserve relies on for vital conservation and restoration work.

The dog’s responsibilities include sniffing out invasive and endangered species in the prairies, forests, and wetlands of Mequon.

Conservation dogs have become more commonplace in wildlife organizations, tapping into their astonishing scent-detecting abilities.

“Dogs in general already have up to 200 million olfactory sensors,” Cory Gritzmacher, the director of operations at the nature preserve, told Wisconsin Life.

Humans, on the other hand, have about 5 million.

“[Dogs are] already set up and designed for scent detection,” Gritzmacher added. “It’s really just finding a dog that’s motivated, that wants to do it on a regular basis and is excited to do it.”

Tilia was the pup for the job.

One of her main roles is to detect wild parsnip, an invasive species that staff removes once it is found on the property.

Compared to humans, Tilia can find parsnip in its first year, while it’s still close to the ground and camouflaged by other plants. This is vital, since parsnip will start to spread rapidly by the time it reaches its second season in the preserve. 

Studies show that the estimated damage caused by invasive species has cost the United States around $120 billion annually, as it impacts agriculture, recreational industries, and wildlife management. 

By catching invasive species that take hold of local flora and fauna early, Tilia achieves something no humans can.

“The best trained volunteers or staff in the world won’t even be able to find what a canine can,” Gritzmacher said. “That’s the pretty impressive part of it. And who doesn’t want to go to work with a dog?” ...

Tilia began training as a puppy, and now nearly seven years old, she’s a pro at scent detection — which all started with some treats hidden in cardboard boxes...

“As she continues to hit on the correct scent, then she gets rewarded. So, she’s going to get paid again. We do our work, we get paid. She does her work, she gets paid.”

Tilia can also spot Blue-Spotted and Easter Tiger Salamanders, which are endangered in the area. Her other scents include Wood Turtle and Garlic Mustard.

Of course, her workload remains balanced with time off. Her official owner is the director of Mequon Nature Preserve, who is happy to embrace her as the family dog when she’s not out sniffing.

But Gritzmacher, who trains and works alongside Tilia, adores her, not only for her companionship, but for the miracles she is able to work as an asset to Wisconsin’s conservationists.

“Canines are going to start to play a huge role in the conservation field just because of their amazing detection skills,” Gritzmacher said, “especially when resources are limited, staff is limited and you have to search potentially thousands of acres or miles.”

In fact, Tilia was joined by a partner in crime a few years ago: Timber, another chocolate lab who is actually the offspring of Tilia’s sister.

By following in her pawprints, Timber’s “powerful nose will be a key tool” in the preserve’s “land restoration efforts,” according to its website.

“For years, scientists have tried to replicate the power and efficiency of the canine nose,” Mequon Nature Preserve adds on a webpage for Tilia and Timber.

“The results keep coming back the same: The canine nose is second to none. Coupled with an insatiable desire to work and serve, Tilia and Timber help us find things humans often can’t.”"

-via GoodGoodGood, December 2, 2024

[skillsetter19]

“The significance of soft skill development for Ground Staff”

Since ground crew members deal with passengers on a daily basis and are seen as brand ambassadors for the airlines they work for, educating them is crucial.

From the moment a passenger arrives at the airport until they board the aircraft, ground staff is in charge of looking after them. Ground crew members’ responsibilities include assisting passengers, handling check-in, guaranteeing timely departures, boarding passengers, and managing arrivals. Ground crew have to be well-trained because they have a lot of tasks that include contact with clients.

Airlines look for time management, approachability, extroverts, confidence, customer focus, and other traits when employing ground crew. Employing skilled staff is an extra benefit since they perform better, learn faster, and make less mistakes.

When a firm provides training to its staff, it guarantees that the training aligns with the company’s vision and goal and meets corporate standards. These trainings enable an organization guarantee that customer perfection will be fulfilled, which helps the airline meet high standards and become victorious in the competition.

At Skillsetter Institute, we make sure that students who want to work as ground personnel receive the best possible training.

Our training team makes sure that students receive both hands-on instruction and a solid theoretical foundation, preparing them for a successful career as ground crew. We also provide our students extensive interview preparation and role plays, which gives them the confidence they need to take on any obstacles in the working world. Intense skill development is what we at Skillsetter Institute believe in. Our goal is to assist students become better, which will benefit them in the long term.

The following are some of the things we make sure our Students learn:

Grooming: When a passenger arrives at the airport, ground personnel is their initial point of contact. Airlines thus need employees who present a positive image of the company. An attractive, well-groomed individual with a positive personality is a quality that all airlines seek in their workforce.

Time management: is crucial for ground personnel since they are the first to make sure passengers complete the first process on time and receive their boarding permit and check-in materials in a timely manner, preventing aircraft delays.

Emotional Quotient: In order to better understand consumers and be able to put oneself in their shoes, someone in a customer-facing profession has to possess an emotional quotient. Customer ages ranging from toddlers to older elders are met by ground workers. They interact with clients of other ethnicities as well, thus they must have a high emotional intelligence.

Patience: When operating in a setting that requires interacting with consumers, patience is crucial. Being a good team player is another requirement for employment in aviation. A great career may be built by an individual who possesses the trait of patience.

These are few soft skills areas which need to be developed for an aspirant who wishes to work as ground staff.

While the circumstances and standards were different a few years ago, awareness of the development of soft skills has increased recently. But with the number of airlines in the market and the increasing level of competition, it is imperative that ground crew receive soft skill training, and the company should guarantee ongoing training as well. Additionally, airlines should make sure that they update their policies and emphasize the value of soft skills to their staff since only then will they be taken seriously.

Since the majority of our students at Skillsetter are focused on developing their soft skills, confidence, and personalities, they are often employed as ground workers with top airlines and have great job success.

Tags: Airport ground handling, Cabin crew training institute, Air hostess course duration, Aviation courses near me 

[aninipanin1]

Hihi, here is some food for thought, albeit rather niche!

Ex-Professional Footballer Young Manager who agrees to play as a substitute player in a match in exchange for a major business sponsor for Blue Lock, and suddenly was absent from the Blue Lock Facility for a week because of it. The Blue lock boys (who didn't know about her football background bc she didn't think it was anything impressive compared to their achievements in Blue lock) panicking thinking Ego locked her off, only to end up learning the truth and watching (fanboying over) her match.

STRIKER OF THE HEART AND GAME

Notes: Yall never fail to give me the most, diabetic and tooth-decaying ideas to write. Theyre all so sweet, and I love reading ALL your asks.

"Good luck, Y/n-chan! You can do it!" Anri cheered beside you, watching you put on your cleats and gloves inside the sports bag as you sat on the tiles ground of Ego's office.

Speaking of the man, he had his back on you, eyes focused on the CCTV cameras around the facility as he watched the players practice in their own respective stratums and places. He was the epitome of calm, cool, and collected, opposite of the pounding of your heart just thinking about playing the sport once again.

Well, its not like Ego is about to be subbed in a team as its center midfielder where he has no prior knowledge or experience playing with, and being expected to dominate nonetheless.

"Thank you, Anri-san! Um...I'll try my best."

"Why are you nervous, Y/n-chan?"

A squeak was heard from Ego's swivel chair, as the man turned around to face you, his eyes disapproving and empty as it always looked. He stood up before folding his upper half forward to meet your eyes.

"You are in Blue Lock. A team already passed the average-at-best standard and world of Japan. Even if you are a manager here, you know the key to awaken your true capability, you know your own ego and strengths. Use them, use them wisely. I chose you as the manager of this place for a reason."

You looked at the man, your main mentor ever since you have been in this place with a smile. One large enough to brighten up your whole face. You know that even if his words came out somewhat harsh, this is his way of caring. Having seen it time and time again with how he interacted with the Blue Lockers, it was his way of comforting and at the same time looking out for your pre-game morale.

"Of course, Ego-san! I'll win this game!"

And with that, you headed out of the facility, inside one of the buses provided by the higher-ups and started the journey to where the match will be held.

"Y/n-chan! Let's eat lunch togeth- Eh? Y/n-chan?"

Shidou burst through your office door, ready to jump and hug you, and hopefully, have you join him in the cafeteria to eat lunch. But to his surprise, you were not there.

You would always be there when it was lunchtime, writing down some things or eating away in the confines of the room. But today, you were nowhere to be seen.

Shrugging, the striker just hopped his way to the cafeteria, thinking that you may be there. But to his chagrin, you also were not there. Shidou started to get a bit upset and sad, after all, he has not seen you for hours! He needs his daily dose of Y/n.

"Hey, has any of you guys seen Y/n? I haven't seen her since breakfast. She told me she'd help me schedule my workouts." The blonde heard Karasu talking with the other PXG members in the cafeteria.

But much to their worries, everyone seemed to be experiencing the same thing. No one has seen you since you entered the cafeteria to eat breakfast, and that was very unlike you. You would usually be walking around the facility, helping with the players and staff or even accomplishing your never ending responsibilities and tasks.

"Hmm, maybe she is just busy in her office? Or with Ego-san? We know how her work piles up aomost every second. I feel bad for her." Nanase answered Karasu's inquiry. His theory was not that farfetched and could possibly be true if Shidou did not just went there a few minutes ago.

"She isn't in her office, headband. I tried to look for her everywhere, but she isnt here."

"Not even in a different stratum?" Karasu added.

"Dunno. Didn't check."

"Then don't assume, idiots. She's probably in the other stratums-" But Karasu was cut off when their door to the cafeteria opened to reveal Reo who looked a bit panicked.

"Has any of you guys seen Y/n-chan around in your stratum?"

"Er, no. Why?"

"Then she's really missing. I've been running around the other stratums to ask if they've seen her anywhere but she is nowhere! You guys are the last place I asked and...well you get the idea."

Now that made all of them panic, where were you?!

Looking around at each other, they nodded as if they thought the same thing at the same time. There was definitely only one person who knows where you are.

Welp, time to go to Ego's office.

"What?" The man said, annoyed and a bit angry at the accusatory questions. Well, it was not accusatory but the thought of doing what the players were saying made him feel like they think he was dumb.

"Was she kicked out and we'll get a new manager?!" Reo said, panicking.

"What?! No, Y/n-chan is the best. You can't do that!" Charles said, frowning heavily. His teeth bared as if he was ready to bite Ego if he did confirm he kicked you out.

"Oi, four eyes if you kicked her out, I will kick you literally." Shidou threatened.

"Did she leave us here?" Rin said. Even if his voice sounded neutral and cold, there was a slight crack that indicated he was absolutely heartbroken if that was the case.

"No, you idiots. She didn't leave, nor did I kick her out. I am not dumb and she pampers you all too much for her to just leave." Ego rolled his eyes at the overdramatic and outlandish thoughts they had. Instead, he turned his swivel chair to face the monitors that were mounted on the wall.

"She is out for the week. She has to play in some matches. Unfortunately, no is not an option since it was tue JFU's decision. Now leave and go back to training, or else someone will indeed be kicked out of this place, and it's not her. Now go."

This definitely made the PXG team's (and Reo's) ears perk up in interest. You? Playing in a match? In a football match?! Holy cow, why did they not know? Or better yet, why did you not tell them?

That afternoon, most of the PXG members huddled together as they searched your game in the tablet provided in Blue Lock. And to no one's surprise, it was currently live, and the game is just about to start.

Meanwhile, in the Manshine stratum, Reo dragged both Nagi and Chigiri in their rooms and prepared the tablet.

"What are we even watching, Reo? I wanna play." Nagi mumbled on the pillow, laying down on the purple-haired male's bed stomach down, Chigiri who sat down on his bed as well nodded.

"Yeah, I mean, I don't mind. But it's not that important, is it." Reo looked offended when Chigiri even tried to insinuate that the match was not important.

"What do you mean not important?! Y/n-chan is going to play as their midfielder! Its the most important thing ever! We're already lacking because we're not there at all to support her! So we have to support her from here."

Now that got Chigiri to straighten up, and Nagi awake, both their eyes wide. They thought it would just be a normal exhibition match. But Reo did not mention you would be playing! Then maybe they would have immediately paid attention.

"You mean Y/n-chan is playing?!" Chigiri said in shock.

"Y/n-chan...I want to watch...!" Nagi said, for the first time paying attention to something, his once half-lidded eyes wide awake and focused on the screen of the tablet.

"Yeah! I didn't tell you?" Reo asked to which he just got a pillow thrown on his face, courtesy of Chigiri.

"No, you dumbass! Just start playing the live, geez."

Needless to say, the two teams even forgot to eat their dinner just to see the end of your match was an understatement. The members were too focused on their screens.

Charles, Rin, Shidou, Chigiri, Reo, and even sometimes Nagi would be muttering curses and mean words towards your teammates who would fail to receive the ball that you so graciously give them from the midfield. There were even times when you would give it to them in a place optimal for a goal, with a pass that even an amateur can score a goal with but they would still miss.

"That number 9 is a fucking idiot." Rin rolled his eyes.

"Number 9? You mean number 21! She is the worst striker I have ever seen! Hmph! If I was (nickname) I would never pass to her!" Charles said throwing his fists up in the air.

"Why is she even the striker? Y/n-chan should have been the striker, and instead, she's stuck at the midfield." Karasu commented.

"Poor Y/n-chan. The enemy team is already ahead of 2 points, and they still have none." Tokimitsu said the moment he saw your face when the camera panned at you. You looked stressed and a bit annoyed at your incompetent teammates.

"If I was her, I would have probably punched that number 21 girl." Shidou said with the angriest face anyone has seen him. After all, they were strikers, and they know a good pass when they see one. Yours were absolutely perfect every time, and if they received a pass like that, they would never waste it away by being locked by the goalkeeper orget stolen by the other team.

The Manshine players were not fairing well either. Reo was clenching the poor blanket too harsh in anger at their strikers and even the defenders and midfielders for leaving you alone at times and not syncing with your smart plans.

"Absolutely horrendous!! Why didn't they go there?! Even an idiot would know that Y/n-chan lured the other team's players there for a reason!" Reo complained.

"They're absolutely brainless at the game." Chigiri rolled his eyes, although he did feel a little amused that someone like Reo, who is usually a gentleman to girls, throwing curse words at the players.

"Hmm...I would be so happy if Y/n-chan gave me a perfect pass like that. She would even clear up some of the defenders just so number 21 or nymber 10 can score a goal." Nagi commented, a frown on his face, not liking that your team was losing.

But of course, when you make a mistake, its forgivable. Like the one time you received the ball a bit sloppily, mainly because you were growing tired.

"Well duh, of course she would miss. She's tired of carrying the whole team on her shoulders." Reo said.

In the dying minutes of the game, with only less than 10 minutes left, with the score being 2-0 in favour of the opposing team, you seemed to have had enough. You became a ballhog, dribbling like a pro against the defenders and midfielders, using your teammates as shields just for you to score a goal.

And let's just say that if Ego was not watching the match as well, he would have scolded the two teams for screaming like wild animals when you scored.

"Now that's a goal you fucking idiots!" Shidou laughed and jumped like a monkey along with Charles.

"She's the only decent player, which sucks." Rin rolled his eyes.

Some of the members of your team ran to congratulate with you, but instead of celebrating, you turned to the striker who looked a bit annoyed that you did not pass to her and scored yourself.

"If you can't do your work as a striker. Then I will do it and score. Do me a favour and get out of my way, that's the least you can do to help this team win."

Everyone was silent after you said it with a straight and emotionless face, just watching you walk away to your place in the court. To say that the striker was pissed was an understatement. She was the striker of this team for more than three years now! She was also older than you, meaning she deserved respect, and you had the audacity? You were just an intern, a replacement of their midfielder.

The other team members were split into two. Some who are close to the striker immediately sided with her and started to glare at you, while some who really wanted to win were more on your side, but they decided to just stay neutral and continue playing.

Until the end of the game, you were a ballhog, passing scarcely to avoid it being stolen by the enemies.

'Tsk, at least some of the defenders in this team are decent.'

Doing a quick roulette on the defender in front of you and immediately holding the shoulder of the one to your left. You squinted your eyes and shot another goal, this time it had a bit of curve to it that the goalkeeper did not read so it resulted into another miracle goal, or atleast thats what they called it because there was only 2 minutes left in the game.

Everyone in the stadium were on their feet, even the commentators stood up shouting in their mic in amazement.

"What...WHAT A GOAL!! THE INFAMOUS MANAGER OF BLUE LOCK HERSELF, Y/N L/N, SCORED A MIRACLE GOAL! A GOAL THAT EQUALIZES HER TEAM!"

In the end, there came an additional time but unfortunately, no goal came. After all, you were tired beyond belief as stamina had always been your problem and hence why you do not play much anymore.

So, it came to penalties. You managed to score your own penalty, but to say that your other teammates flopped was an understatement. The other team, however, managed to score 2 penalty goals, hailing them the winner of the match.

The boys, who watched in the Blue Lock facility, were more than pissed of course. You lost because of those stupid teammates of yours that dragged you down. The worst part is that they know you can produce better plays if only your teammates can catch up to it.

Ego, who waa watching remained neutral as ever, while Anri was gripping her hair in annoyance.

"It can't be helped. This is why we are striving to change Japanese football, Anri-chan." Ego said.

In the locker room, you remained quiet and neutral as always as you took a shower and changed into your normal clothes. But as you did, the striker of the team came out, her face contorted in annoyance.

"We lost because you were a fucking ballhog. Why couldn't you just pass the ball to me or Hana over here? Heck even to Aiyo-"

"Not really. We lost because none of you scored your penalties. Even if not all of you did, if only some of you did, we could have won. My ballhog move was for the best, after all, it was the one that scored us two points and equalized us. It was even the reason we got to play longer." You said with a straight face, just saying facts. But to the others, especially to the striker, you were bragging about being the best in the team and dissing their skills which pissed her off more.

If it was not for the manager walking in, the situation would have gotten worse. Thankfully, the manager was not any of the players as he congratulated and thanked you for your hat trick. And said, it was very much impressive seeing as the opposing team was one of the strongest in Japan.

"It's nothing, sir. I still had fun playing. Thank you."

With one last bow you left them to themselves.

"Why did you not tell us about this?!" Isagi said, mad and horrified. The other two teams did not tell them that you were playing matches and that you did one yesterday and he did not get to watch it?!

"Yeah! Chigiri, you're so mean!" Bachira said with a pout, while Niko just agreed.

"I'll tell Ubers about this. They have another one tomorrow right?"

"Yeah. At 7:30 pm. We wanted to support Y/n-chan even if we're stuck here. But be aware, her team is so shit it gets annoying and that Y/n is the only carrying that team. So yeah..." Chigiri said to which Isagi just shrugged.

"Oh, it can't be that bad, right?"

Oh, how wrong he was. Wednesday came, and all the teams all camped in a meeting room (inside the Bastard Munchen stratum) and set up the live (they managed to convince Ego, which was surprising but knowing his favouritism towards you, it was not that surprising).

At first, it was just the Blue Lockers, but when Kaiser, along with Ness, entered the meeting room, they were a little curious.

"Leave, Kaiser." Isagi rolled his eyes, to which the German just smirked.

"Oh, but I heared little Y/n will be playing a game. I want to watch how she does, of course."

Now, the meeting room was crowded as hell. Even some of the masters went to watch, for God's sake. The moment the match started, the whole pace was quiet down, and everyone's attention was on the screen of the large tv.

You got the ball early in the game as you dribbled past the midfielders and decided to give the strikers one chance to prove if they'll be worth passing to in this match.

You decided to give a curved pass accurate to where number 21 was, till now you did not really have any care to know what her name was. It was a pass that was easy to score a goal with. You put a good spin to it, and it was optimal for any type of straight shot.

Even the Blue Lockers rolled their eyes at this, not liking that you're going easy on your team, especially after what happened last game.

"If she doesn't score that, I don't have any hope for any of them at all, except Y/n-chan." Chigiri commented, remembering how pissed he was when he watched the previous game.

They all watched the striker, receiving the ball with the side of her right foot and kicked to the net only for it to hit the goalpost, bouncing on it to end outside.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Isagi let out, everyone started to curse as well as the others.

"I mean, I would make a comment about how they're a Division 3 team. But anyone could have scored that goal..." Yukimiya said, shaking his head. This was a professional team? He thinks not.

"I think I know that striker girl. I have heard of her before... yeah. She was supposedly good, guess fame got to her head and she didn't improve anymore." Niko said, thinking back to some articles he has read about her. If that was the case, it would be rather sad that she wasted her talents and skills to remain in that same level forever instead of bettering herself.

After that fluke of a goal, you ended up just passing the ball to some of the defenders and midfielders who are much more efficient in protecting the ball or even scoring. After all, you were not used to being a ballhog, and the last game was just a desperate measure. But now, you had time to flesh out the game and your strategies instead of going all instinct.

Passing to one of the midfielders whom you knew named Yuko, you let her weave her way through the enemies before using her being stuck in the middle of two of them as a way for her to have no choice but pass it to you, which she did. You received it through the small opening before running through the field, dribbling the ball as fast as you can (you weren't a natural like Bachira or even Lavinho, but you weren't bad at it) before you were stopped by the opponent's defenders, who were lured by the aspect that you were not the best dribbler they have seen and to hopefully steal the ball.

Instead of fighting or dribbling past them, you kicked the ball high. It was high enough to seem like it was a pass, only it was to get past the defenders. It curved downwards as the goalkeeper tried to catch it, to no avail.

You scored your first goal of the night. And by God, was it magical to see. You were like a magical siren, elegantly swimming past the defenders, luring them using your elegant plays and seemingly understandable and naive plays so they can try and intercept you, only for you to turn around and be the one to make use of their belief that you were an easy. Just like the old sailors who thought that the beautiful girl in the middle of the ocean was an innocent woman, lured in by her beauty and hypnotizing voice, only to be dragged down the sea in despair.

You were that. Beautiful yet deadly. This was something none of the players or even masters have seen.

You looked ahead at the goal, not even celebrating as you just wiped the sweat on your forehead. As if you did not just plunge the opposing defenders into your sea, drowning them in despair.

"Damn...I've never seen her play...I kinda wish I did before..." Oliver said, breathless. The rest seemed like it as well, as if they were the players on the field, affected by your siren song.

"Now I get why Ego called her play...hypnotizing once...this is what he meant..." Kunigami added.

"Heh, a play that is so beautiful yet naive looking to lure in those around her, only to turn around and show her hidden monstrous side the moment she's in her golden zone for a goal. A killer playstyle that kid got." Lavinho said as he rested his back on the walls. You looked like you were dancing on the field so beautifully and elegantly. He would know since he was a dancer. And now he wonders if you had any backgrounds in dancing. The way you position your foot, your posture, the way you moved, and your isolation, it all reminded him of a dancer. He'll have to ask you.

"See! I told you guys. Y/n-chan is absolutely breathtaking when she plays." Bachira said excitedly. He had you play with him before, and he had a taste of your true ego before. Needless to say, it was one of the reasons why he had a crush on you somewhat. Your posture and the way you moved with a ball at the time to him was the perfect form for dribbling. And so, he would ask you for help in training and well, it was brutal but fun.

"Hmm, now I know your hidden side, Y/n. That crazy four-eyes definitely picked the right person to be the manager of these losers." Kaiser whispered under his breath.

ADDITIONAL TIME:

After the game:

Blue Lock is WRITTEN by Kaneshiro Muneyuki and ILLUSTRATED by Nomura Yusuke. All credits to the both of them.

[skytechaviation]

With the right direction and guidance, dreams can come true.  Join Skytech Aviation today to give wings to your dreams.

[bestairhostessacademy]

Do you dream of breaking into the challenging, specialized world of aviation? If so, then our airport ground staff course in Delhi is the best course for you to make a successful career in the aviation industry. Ground crew members have a wide range of responsibilities, such as boarding assistance, baggage handling & overall airport functioning.

[topcrewneel]

What is Airport Ground Staff Training? A Beginner’s Guide

Understand the fundamentals of airport ground handling, including passenger services, baggage management, and security procedures. Learn about training requirements and job opportunities in the aviation industry.

[skillsetterinstitutesworld]

Best Ground Staff Management Training Institutes: Your Path to Aviation Success

Introduction:

The aviation industry is fast-paced and highly competitive, with ground staff playing a crucial role in ensuring smooth airport operations. Ground staff management involves handling various responsibilities, from customer service to airport logistics, and requires specialized training. If you’re looking to enter this exciting field, enrolling in the right ground staff management training course can be your ticket to success.

At SkillSetter Aviation Training Institute, we offer top-notch Ground Staff Management courses along with a comprehensive suite of aviation programs, including Air Hostess Courses, Diploma in Aviation, and Cabin Crew Courses in Mumbai. We are also recognized as the best government-approved air hostess training institute, providing unmatched quality and expertise in aviation training.

What is Ground Staff Management?

Ground Staff Management refers to the training and skills required to manage the essential operations that take place on the ground at airports. Ground staff are responsible for a wide range of duties, including:

Customer Service: Assisting passengers with check-ins, boarding, and resolving any queries.

Baggage Handling: Ensuring safe and efficient baggage transport and delivery.

Airport Security: Maintaining safety protocols and ensuring compliance with airport regulations.

Logistical Support: Coordinating with airlines, managing schedules, and overseeing on-ground operations.

Ticketing and Reservation: Managing ticket sales, reservations, and seat allocations.

A Ground Staff Management Course provides in-depth knowledge and hands-on training in all these areas, preparing you to work in one of the most dynamic sectors of the aviation industry.

SkillSetter’s Best Ground Staff Management Courses

At SkillSetter Aviation Training Institute, we are proud to offer the best ground staff management courses that prepare students for a successful career in the aviation industry. Our curriculum is designed to cover all aspects of ground operations, and we provide hands-on training to ensure our students are job-ready from day one.

Other Courses Offered by SkillSetter

In addition to our Ground Staff Management course, we offer a variety of aviation-related programs to help students launch successful careers in the industry:

Air Hostess Courses: Our air hostess training program is designed to provide students with the skills needed to work as cabin crew, focusing on customer service, in-flight safety, and grooming.

Diploma in Aviation: This comprehensive course covers all aspects of aviation, including ground staff management, airline operations, and safety procedures, providing students with a well-rounded education.

Cabin Crew Courses in Mumbai: SkillSetter’s cabin crew training focuses on preparing students for the demanding yet rewarding role of flight attendants, offering in-depth training in customer service, safety, and emergency protocols.

Self-Confidence Builder: Our self-confidence builder program is designed to help individuals develop the interpersonal and leadership skills required to excel in high-pressure environments like aviation.

Contact SkillSetter Aviation Training Institute Today!

Are you ready to take the first step towards a successful career in the aviation industry? At SkillSetter Aviation Training Institute, we offer the best Ground Staff Management courses, Air Hostess Courses, Diploma in Aviation, and Cabin Crew Courses in Mumbai.

Whether you’re looking to work in airport operations, become a flight attendant, or simply build your self-confidence, SkillSetter has the right program for you. Contact us today to learn more about our courses and enroll in your path to aviation success!

Tags: Air Hostess Training Institute, Air Hostess Training Institute in Mumbai, Air Hostess Courses in Mumbai, Airline Management Courses, Self Confidence Builder, Ground Staff Management, Government Air Hostess Training Institute, Diploma in Aviation, Cabin Crew Courses in Mumbai.

[lieslab]

You know I can't fight the feeling

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Chan X gn reader

Summary: Your boyfriend's simple mistake causes him to feel like the world is ending

Genre: Reverse comfort/hurt

Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: I know I said there'd be a Hyunjin fic up and it will be up tomorrow. Someone posted Chan's bubble message where he said he always hurts people and that felt like being shot in the chest. Parasocial relationships aside, nobody deserves to feel hopeless and feel like they can't do anything right. If you have bubble, please be kind to the guys. To the rest of us, let's be a little kinder to ourselves, yeah? <3

_ _ _

The soft knocking on the recording studio’s door caused Chan to glance up from his laptop. The usual beats and instrumentals came to a halt quite a while ago. For the past twenty minutes, he’d been staring at the screen and letting his mind wander. 

He didn’t move, wondering which one of his members would appear. Someone probably saw the bubble message he posted and they’d be here to talk to him, but he didn’t want to talk. What was there to say? He was drowning in all the pressure from everyone and everything. 

It never goes away, not really. When you’re the leader, the eldest, the most mature, and the one that’s responsible for everyone, even when those you’re responsible for grow up, you still feel for them. There’s still a part of you that bends and contorts to make them happy. Fifty or five, it doesn’t matter. Once you start to care in certain ways, it never goes away. 

And it doesn’t help when the world is watching. Why do people want him to fall? He doesn’t know. He might never know. One minor mistake. Lately, it’s felt like a thousand. One minor mistake to you, but a million to me. 

You become a lifeline in certain situations. The emergency contact. The one person to go for advice. The leader. The father. The best. What happens when those expectations crumble? Who is there for you? 

Why do people do that? Assume someone is meant to hold all your expectations and not drop a single one? Nobody fills the role of perfection and yet, it’s still expected. Who picks you up when the world lets you down? Who picks me up? 

“Hey,” you uttered softly as you appeared in the doorway. You with a softness on your face and he knew it just by that look. The way your eyes oozed with pity. The frown that only crossed your face when you were worried. 

“I don’t want that pity.” His head went back to his laptop. “If you saw that message I posted, I don’t want to talk about it.” 

“I’m not here because of the bubble message. I’m here because the guys said you went radio silent a few hours ago and you’ve been declining their calls and leaving their messages on read without a response.” 

“Just perfect. More expectations that I’ve ruined.” He pushed the top of his laptop down with a hard thud. Your heart instantly ached at the sight. “How many more things can I ruin because of my choices?” 

“You don’t ruin things.” 

“I ruin everything.” 

Your heart sank to your stomach. What do you say to someone who holds those beliefs rooted in their heart? You can cut down a tree, but the roots still embed deep into the ground, twisting through soil, and contorting towards earth’s core. 

“That’s not true,” you whispered. 

“Of course, it’s true. It’s always true. I make one minor mistake and everyone jumps me for it. God forbid I do something wrong.” He jerks up his hands. “There’s a Dispatch article tarnishing my name. Videos get posted to social media sites with hate comments in masses. I meant it, I can’t do anything right.” 

“And what about all the other videos where you do things perfectly? The way you thank the band members who play for your shows. Thanking supporting staff when you don’t have to. Taking the time to thank the security personnel for keeping you safe.” 

“I-” 

“And what about all the time you sat on live streams giving out advice for free, to the people who genuinely needed it? All the smiling and the laughter. The vulnerable moments you shared. Those hour sessions made people feel like they weren’t alone in life.” 

His heart ached. You stepped further into the room. “And what about the staff members who gush about you? There’s a reason people call your group kind and cherish you. There’s always a reason you get photoshoots and so many interviews. It’s not just because of your company, but because you’ve created a group that cherishes kindness and passion. You believe that it’ll take you far, even when you struggle to maintain that image.” 

“But there are people who…” 

You sat the paper bag down on the coffee table behind him. A leather couch expanded. Multiple times, the guys sat on it waiting their turn to record. Changbin and Han took turns sitting beside Chan in the producer’s seat. 

When a third chair couldn’t be found, Han wormed his way onto Changbin’s lap. Other times, he squirmed onto Chan’s lap like a fussy toddler. Grumbling and huffing, stressing about recording and trying to do things right. On better days, he stretched out over them and joked that he’d stay there, pretending to be their joint child forever. 

“I know, but you have to focus on the good stuff. If you only focus on the bad stuff out there, it’ll kill you. You. Your passion. Your love for what you have. I’m here to remind you that the good still exists, even when the bad feels like it’s outweighing it.” 

He sucked in a deep breath and leaned back in his chair. “I know, but it’s so hard. It’s hard to get onto bubble and look at all the messages telling me I fucked up. I’m really trying to be better and be aware of it all. I’m trying, I swear.” 

“You’re allowed to ignore the messages. I know you like reading people’s responses and feeling giddy. There are so many places where you can go and find the outpouring love that you deserve.” 

“But the fans paid for bubble.” 

“And that’s their right, but it’s your right to create healthy boundaries for yourself. If you are receiving more hate on bubble than support, go somewhere else. You can post something on bubble and go to another site, too. Don’t read through mountains of hate because you think you have to. Stop punishing yourself simply for existing.” 

For a brief moment, a lump in his throat grew. A bottom lip quivered and right in front of you, he thought he’d break. The hate filled his heart so much, he thought it’d burst. Deep down, he knew people cared, but it was difficult to pull himself away from it all. 

Everyone wants affection and praise. Everyone wants to be seen as valid and craves reassurance. When the hate trickles in, whether it’s from friends, family, or fans; it pours. The only thing you can think of is how much you let them down. It stings. It aches. It soaks your heart in acid and it reacts by causing your brain to scream at you. 

Before the tears fell, he forced himself to place his head in his hands. Besides his bleeding heart, a sniffle sounded. For so long, he’d relied on the fans for everything. What more could he do? 

When you grow up in such a world without the constant support of people around you, you learn to rely on validation where you can get it, even if it’s not the healthiest kind. Just because his phone is filled with supportive texts and calls from family and close friends, it’s not the same as being there to hold them tight in real life. To hear their words, to take in their facial expression, to truly hear and know that you’re doing well. 

When your own worst enemy is your brain, sometimes, you begin to think the entire world is against you. All the praise you hear from people around you, you never take it to heart because you think they say that just to appease you and try to slather your hurt. You never believe it, not really; never fully. 

Deep in the trenches of the idol industry, when management forces diets and group secrets, all you have is the people around you and the fans. Always a constant steady stream of support, usually, but when one minor mistake feels like a downfall, what’s the point of any of it? 

Those thousands of minnows feel like circling sharks. Sharp teeth, gnashing jaws, and you’re just a human. Words bite into your skin and rip it apart. Blood fills the water; a weakness that they can sense and then it begins again. A never ending cycle that leaves you defeated and floating as a deceased corpse. 

It takes so long to build yourself back up. Your belief in the good. The belief that thousands and thousands of fans aren’t against you. It never turns out the way you want it to, but what else can you do when the relationships with people around you have been tricky your entire life?

Seven years alone in an industry where people come and go. Just when you think you’ve finally latched onto someone, they’re ripped away again. Forced to debut without you. Quitting because the pressure to be perfect is just too much. 

When you’re shoved into an industry that molds perfection, you’re supposed to keep it that way. Growing up in a culture where if you aren’t striving and you’re not constantly moving and pushing forward, you’re falling behind. There will always be someone better; a wolf chasing on the heels of a rabbit. 

How do you break that mindset? Breaks will not kill you. A reaction from a certain number of fans over a minor mistake is not the end of the world. Slowing down and taking a moment to breathe is a good chance to recuperate. 

You walked over and placed a hand on the back of his head. He didn’t fight you pulling his head into your stomach. His arms wrapped around your waist tightly. “Please don’t be mad at me, too.” He croaked. 

“I’m not mad at you for making a mistake. I make them, too. I brought food because I wasn’t sure if you were hungry.” 

After a few moments of closeness, he pulled away and pawed at his streaming tears. His mouth opened, but his stomach beat him to it. A growl roared before it faded into silence again. 

“Sounds like you’re starving to me.” 

He weakly laughed and nodded. “I guess you could say that, yeah. It’s been a while since I last ate.” 

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you.” 

“Thank you for coming.” 

“No worries, let’s eat well together, shall we?” You smiled and glanced up. He sniffled and nodded, wondering what you bought for dinner. He watched you open the bag and let you lay out everything. 

Today, you’d feast together and tomorrow was another day; tomorrow he’d try again.

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

Taglist: @lia-linny @seungnishi @stellasays45 @emilyywhyy @rockstarkkami @flightlessackerman @inlovewithstraykids @velvetmoonlght @chrizrizz

Masterlist

Taglist and inbox rules

Ko-fi

[skillsetter19]

“Advantages of enrolling in an established academy’s air hostess training”

India’s aviation sector is flourishing, which is creating a lot of work possibilities. The minimum age to work in aviation is 18, and the sector demands a higher secondary degree for entry. Many individuals are interested in becoming pilots since the criteria are so simple. Although the aviation sector offers a wide range of employment, the majority of people who want to work in the industry are drawn to becoming cabin crew or air hostesses since these positions come with numerous benefits, such as access to 5-star hotels, international travel, and generous pay.

The majority of young females aspire to work as cabin staff, but because they receive no supervision, their goals are rarely realized.

We attend tuition sessions in order to better ourselves, and a reputable airhostess academy is necessary to prepare us for the challenges of the aviation business and help us achieve success there.

There are several institutions and academies in the area, but the key concerns are how to choose a reputable institute and what advantages come with enrolling in one.

Choosing an institute may be somewhat challenging because there are many of them and their costs vary. Before admitting someone, their records and reputation are the two “Rs” that count.

It is very crucial to find an institute which has a great record of placement and always ensure to verify how many cabin crews closures they have had. Furthermore, how well-known is the institute in the industry? Being well-known or dubbed the world’s top institute is insufficient since it matters far more to know what kind of quality they are producing. Never enter the institute’s interiors; the airplane façade is only there to draw students in, but as soon as classes begin, they realize the instruction isn’t up to par. Candidates can get a fair indication of the quality of training by attending demo lectures and interacting with existing students at Skillsetter Institute.

So, what are the benefits of selecting a good and reputed aviation academy?

Quality of training: A reputed organization is known to have high standards of training as their faculty is from the industry with lots of experience. They mentor and mold the kids so that they are prepared for the workforce and can confidently ace interviews. In order to impart their wealth of knowledge and help aspiring professionals grasp the ins and outs of the industry, trainers must possess extensive industry experience.

Training module: A reputable institution will offer top-notch instruction. Theory and practice should always be combined in training. Interactive instruction is usually beneficial since it gives pupils the chance to become more confident and communicate better.

Placement: A reputable institution has a high placement rate and strong relationships with airlines. Joining a reputable company has several advantages, including excellent interview preparation and advice on proper posture, clothing, and other aspects of the interview process. To obtain accurate feedback, always be sure to review the placement record of the academy and chat with a few former students.

Focus: The Skillsetter Institute offers individualized attention. In a class of thirty pupils, a trainer cannot possibly mold and improve every single student. Therefore, we support individualized instruction with fewer pupils in the classroom.

Feedback and transparency: A reputable academy will adhere to transparency and provide accurate information. They won’t have anything to pretend or conceal. Making a favourable impression on the interviewers may also be achieved by associating with the appropriate institution.

An applicant can get overall growth by enrolling in a reputable institution. Not only is there progress in terms of knowledge, but also in terms of personality, confidence, and general improvement.

At Skillsetter Institute, we prioritize the aspirants’ growth and development while also disseminating the advantages and disadvantages of this field. Everyone who is a student looks forward to placement. We guarantee that the candidate is prepared for the workforce and can easily navigate interviews. The Skillsetter Institute has a 97% placement rate last year, which is higher than any other institute.

Tags: Air hostess training institute, Cabin crew training institute, Airline courses, Airport ground handling.

[akela-nakamura]

DPxDC Prompt

Summoning is an imperfect art, mispronouncing a name or having an incorrect symbol can lead to unexpected, and sometimes explosive results. Summoning can open unexpected doors. No one's prepared for what--or who--steps through when a rising gang tries to summon backup.

My little ficlet for this is below the cut:

Smoke. The acrid slam of it in the nose, brought on by the screaming wind. Chanting. A chorus of voices, steady and thrumming. Pain. Everything is hazy, and it’s equal odds on it being from the smoke or the potential head injury. 

Bruce stumbles to his feet, body throbbing. 

This was not how he’d planned this night. 

Of course, he hadn’t planned for Gotham to suddenly be overrun with a new…gang? They claimed to be a government organization, but Bruce has his doubts. He hadn’t had a chance to go through the GIW’s information, but according to Barbara, their claims were sketchy at best.

The shouting about ghosts and waving around sci-fi weapons with no trigger discipline certainly didn’t help their claims. 

Government organization or not, they had no right to raid homes, to drag people out onto the street, or overall threaten his city.

His ears ring, and the chanting rises in volume, impossibly. His chest reverbes with the sound. It’s steady enough to feel like a second heart. His blurry vision locks onto the center of the summoning circle. Because this night couldn’t get any worse, of course. 

First the GIW had rocketed up his list of threats with one simple move. 

They’d gone after Jason.

Jason, who even now was laid out in the middle of the summoning circle, eyes bright, bright, bright green through the haze. 

First they’d taken his son. 

Then they’d used him as a sacrifice. 

Bruce bared his teeth, locking eyes with the closest GIW agent. The man held up his weapon, a glowing baton. His form is weak. 

The baton gord flying, Bruce’s armored elbow slamming the man to the ground. The agent curls up, groaning. Nightwing’s escrima sing electric in the background, followed by the whip of Tim’s bow staff. Damian’s sword glints through the haze, and purple flashes through the crowd of white, white, white. 

He can’t see Cass, but he doesn’t expect too. 

The ground rocks under his feet, and it takes several precious seconds to regain his balance. There seems to be an almost endless flood of agents, with more and more meeting his fists as he tries to make it through the gauntlet. 

Suddenly, the air shifts, the scream of it heading for the circle instead of out. 

The circle glows toxic green, and Jason’s at the center, frozen in the light. 

“No!” Bruce shouts, the sound ripping from his soul. 

It’s echoed by Dick, who stands just outside the circle’s boundaries. His hands are pressed against the light, his blue eyes a shock against the green. 

It’s a confusion of people - GIW white and the summoner’s black. The GIW is here to end whatever it is they need Jason to summon to them. The summoners themselves seem to have broken away from the “agency” and want power from the being they’re calling. It’s a fight on multiple fronts, with the GIW fighting the summoners and Bruce and his family fighting them all. 

The temperature drops. 

“HOOD!” Dick screams, as Jason is swallowed by the green. 

The chant is all he can hear, even as he shoves towards the circle, even as he slams against the same wall Dick’s against. 

The world goes bright and he can’t keep his eyes on Jason. On his son. 

When the light fades, Jason’s not alone. 

A being sits six feet in the air, Jason collapsed over his lap, somehow hovering with the - what is he? He looks human, but there’s something wrong. Off. Bruce can’t quite pinpoint his age. A crown glows on his head, an ever shifting cape spills down his back, dragging close to the floor. His eyes are green as Lazarus, and just as deep. Jason is breathing, Bruce notes. The being’s hands curl in Jason’s hair, playing with it idly. 

The air is *rigid, and everyone’s stopped fighting. No one can draw their eyes away from the being. 

“You dare to summon me with one of my own?” The being speaks, and it’s like crackling glaciers. Someone whimpers. 

“We - wanted to give you a gift,” One of the men in black says, his voice chattering. 

It’s like breathing in ice. 

“A gift?” The being says and the sound is fury, banked in a waiting avalanche. “What kind of gift is this? A denizen of my Realms, trapped and tortured? Used to summon his king, against his will? This is no gift.” 

“B-but we didn’t know,” another speaks, and then obviously realizes he shouldn’t have. 

“Ignorance will not save you,” the being says, and it - he’s? - still holding Jason like he’s something precious. “And I am not the only one you have infuriated. 

“I am not the only one you have awoken.” 

To a man, the GIW agents cry out in panic. Bruce turns, looking for the threat but - the agents are buried to various depths in the cracked concrete floor. The ground is decidedly solid beneath Bruce’s feet but the agents would obviously not agree. They flounder, like the concrete is quicksand. The summoners are next, but it’s ice that gets them, crawling up their bodies until they’re locked into place. 

“My lord!” One cries and promptly finds himself gagged. 

Bruce can’t stay silent any longer. “Hood was used against his will to summon you,” he starts. The being’s eyes meet Bruce’s. “He didn’t want this. Is he alright?” 

“Your son is fine,” the voice is rough, but feminine, and obviously not from the being. It’s around him, dancing through the steel beams and pushing through concrete. “You are mine, my knight. You and yours are mine. The little king will not harm him, nor you.” A figure forms off to his right. 

“Holy shit,” Dick whispers. Bruce has to agree. 

She’s made of concrete, of broken brick and dust, of bone and police tape, of twisted metal and more. 

“Gotham,” Bruce breathes, and he doesn’t know how he knows but he does.

“Hello, my knight,” she says, her form shifting. She turns slightly, and there’s something sharp in her movement. “Hello, little king.” 

“Lady Gotham,” The being - the king? - returns. “You look well,” 

Lady Gotham laughs, a ringing sound - it’s bells and gravel, fresh air on a summer day and rising wind. “How you flatter me, little king. Do you fear me?” 

The being grins, mischief dancing around him, white hair floating high. “I respect you. It’s good to see you awake, Milady.”

“What is happening?” Tim asks no one in particular. Dick shrugs and Steph just leans harder on Tim. Cass holds Damian’s shoulder firmly, watching carefully. 

Bruce wishes he had an answer. 

“It is good to be awake,” Lady Gotham says, and she shifts closer to the circle, fingers skimming against the barrier of light. “How long do you intend to keep my reaper from me?” 

Reaper. Bruce thinks, and it’s a gut punch. 

It makes sense, to describe Jason. Jason can go where Bruce cannot, do what Bruce cannot. 

The king laughs lightly. “The summoning harmed him, Milady. I’m just keeping him safe. I’m not here to undermine you,” the king’s eyes glow. “But remember who is king.”

Lady Gotham smiles. “I’m aware of hierarchy little king.” 

“My son,” Bruce says, because there’s no point in pretending Jason is anything less. He’s talking to - the embodiment of gotham and a king of - something. “He’ll be okay?” 

Lady Gotham sighs. “He will be fine, my knight. The little king cares for his own.” 

“What - what are you the king of?” Tim asks, bold. 

The being smiles. 

“I am Phantom,” he says. “I am the Ghost King.” 

Jason stirs in his lap, and the implications crash over Bruce. Maybe Reaper has more meaning than he’d thought.

[whoreforsexymen]

anything with jayce. I am a slut for jayce. this feels like a confessional.

Time Is A Thief | Jayce Talis

Pairings: Ruined!Jayce x Fem!Reader

Pronouns: She/Her, Female Anatomical Descriptions. Mainly written in 3rd person, no use of "you".

Rating: NSFW, 18+, MDNI! I am NOT responsible for your media consumption.

Word Count: 5.7k

Tags: Minor angst, desperation, reuniting with a lost love, smut, penetrative sex, impatient sex, riding. (MINIMAL DIALOGUE)

Summary: Jayce has been lost to the inevitable future. Driven mad by solitude, when he finally returns home, he's set on tracking down and killing Viktor. Although, he has a personal mission to find the love he lost along the way.

Notes: EEEEEEEEEKKKk! This isn't the greatest smut I've ever written, but I couldn't tarnish the romanticism of the reunion. The smut isn't super good, but I did my best to match the rest of the vibe. Hope yall enjoy <3!! More to come soon!

also, side note, there is a CRITICAL LACK of Ruined!Jayce fics. Okay?! (In Thanos Voice: Fine. I'll do it myself.)

Light.

That was all.

A brilliance so fierce it consumed all thought, leaving nothing to the imagination.

He saw everything, yet nothing at all— no trace of form or substance, only the infinite expanse of void surrounding him.

No shadow, no contour, no shape. Just emptiness. An emptiness that somehow felt full.

A paradox of being— broken, yet whole; whole, yet hollow; dead, yet alive.

Nothing made sense. Only the pulse of the moment, the light’s unyielding blaze. 

The pulse of time, space, and life itself thrummed through his soul, weaving their rhythm into the very essence of his being.

Until, without warning, the vast illumination crumbled, and the world, in all its painful clarity, returned.

The light had vanished, leaving him adrift in the emptiness, only to be reclaimed by the stark hues of ordinary life. Colors surged around him—muted greys, whispers of teal, and pale pinks flooding his vision. It was almost more than he could bear. 

Amidst the radiance that pierced his very essence, he was lifted—suspended in a weightless embrace, held aloft by the luminous threads of the light that had so utterly captivated him.

But reality struck like a tempest, a sudden jolt searing through him. A sharp pang tore into his senses as he plummeted, his knee barely finding time to thrust forward, instinctively breaking his fall.

He collided with the cold metal floor, the impact swift and steadfast. His knee bore the brunt of the descent, while his staff—his once-revered hammer—absorbed the weight of his shifting reality, grounding him in the unforgiving present.

The weight of the world bore down upon him, relentless and unyielding, its merciless humility a torment that carved into his flesh, stripping meat from bone. It gnawed at the core of his being, unraveling even the grey matter of his mind, piece by excruciating piece.

He could not cry out, for to do so would be in vain—a hollow echo swallowed by the abyss, silenced before it could ever bloom into sound. 

He felt fragile, yet a fire smoldered deep within, winding through the quiet valleys of life that endured, unfazed. He held fast to a personal code, a mission etched in the essence of all that is veiled and sacred, shaped by the silent will of esoteric truths, runes, and the like.

There were no gods, no masters to answer to. Only his own will, and his own duties to uphold. 

He couldn’t afford to fail.

He wouldn’t fail. 

Not when the weight of existence itself teetered on the fragile edge between destiny and the mark he left upon it, shaping the very course of life’s unfolding.

A mission of great magnitude. Yet a plague lingered within him.

A plague of thought—relentless and gnawing. Thoughts that haunted him throughout the endless stretches of time, as he wandered the desolate wastelands of mankind’s “evolution”. They had once been his salvation, a lifeline entwined with his thirst for reckoning, feeding his drive with a dark, bloodied purpose. Yet a purpose of passion—all the same.

A passion that had once burned with fierce strength. The strength he had once known now seemed but a feeble echo, a mere shadow of the deeper meaning he had since uncovered in every word, every breath, every fleeting moment.

Images of the past, which, candidly, were the present once more, often danced in his mind, tangled in the waves of anguish that blurred the boundaries of time—and the futility of man’s existence.

Images of a certain face.

The face of a woman he had once known. Once loved. Once yearned for.

A woman who may very well have faded from existence in the time he had been lost, cast adrift in realms where he had borne the hammer of atonement for his actions in this present-day "past life."

Gods, how long had he been gone? 

He had atoned for his sins enough, pleading to return to the very moment he had been torn from—plucked away from the threads of life as though he were no more than a fruiting blossom on a tree, ripe for harvest.

If he had learned anything in his time cast away, it was that mages were as unpredictable as they were dangerous—venomous, cruel, and unafraid. All-knowing, they played with the fabric of time and space, indifferent to the chaos they wrought. 

He was certain he had been atomized, deconstructed, and reconstructed within the timeline he once called his own. But how far into the present, past, or future he had been thrust into remained the looming unknown.

His mission—-to reap the soul of a man he once knew. 

A man that had unlocked a potential known only to him—an unlimited power that defied understanding. The two of them may very well have transcended the boundaries of time, simultaneously outliving all those they had once known, leaving only echoes of ghosts behind.

That was a question that could not remain unanswered: who—-or what—-remained of the life he once knew? What remained in the space between all that was known, and what was yet to be discovered?

Despite the vengeful conquest  that fueled every pulse of his lifeblood, he carried a personal objective—one that took precedence above all else, overshadowing every other need and duty.

He must find her. 

With a body and soul that ached, cried, and surged with pain at the slightest movement, Jayce clutched his faithful hammer, the staff his only anchor in this fractured moment. He grasped it with a ferocity born of desperation, driven by an insatiable need to find the one who held his heart.

He dragged himself from the earth, his bones threatening to crumble beneath the weight of every strained muscle. In the depths of his agony, he found the strength to cry out—anguish, pain, and longing intertwining in a sound that tore through the stillness.

There was no time to waste. Time was as fleeting as the many fragile faces of morality he had been shown. He pressed on, choosing to ignore the pain that gnawed at his body, for the agony in his heart burned far fiercer, driving him forward with a greater urgency.

As he forced one foot in front of the other, a faint clarity began to seep through the fog of his pain. He recognized this place—what felt like a lifetime ago, perhaps it truly was.

It was the very place he had been banished from on that fateful day, the boundaries of reality itself stripped away, peeling from his existence like old paint from a forgotten wall.

The base of the Hexgate. Miles upon miles beneath the surface, deep within the heart of the underground. So close to The Fissures that the scent of The Grey seeped through, oozing like sludge, despite the sanctity of the Hextech walls.

Yes, he knew exactly where he was—and where he had to go. Where he needed to go.

After what seemed like hours of agony, though only mere minutes in the grand scope of reality, he emerged.

The raw sunlight of the outside world felt foreign, a pale imitation of the light he’d known within the anomaly that had consumed him. It didn’t faze him in the slightest. Yet, he clung to the shadows, weighed down by the urgency of his mission, unwilling to risk crossing paths with anyone but the council he sought.

He tried to summon her face in his mind, though it danced just beyond his reach, a fading wisp of memory. The delicate details slipped like grains of sand through his fingers, leaving behind only fragments, delicate shards of a once-vivid whole. Longing was a poor name for the ache that ate away at his very being. 

It wasn’t just the endless minutes, hours, or even years spent alone, adrift in the quiet expanse of time. It was the storm within his mind, the weight of the universe’s secrets pressing upon him, unraveling his memories until her face—so familiar, so beloved—was little more than a whisper, lost to the void.

How could he ever forget her face? 

His grip on the hammer tightened, the weight of it suspended in the air, but he refused to rely on it. His impatience burned, driving him forward without its support.

This was his final reckoning. To bear the strain of his body, the pain of his journey, as penance for allowing his mind to forsake the thought of her.

He trudged through the shadows, a silent specter unnoticed by the lurking eyes around him, his resolve unwavering as he pressed forward, determined to reach the only place where he could search for her presence.

Every so often, ripples of time—glitches in the fabric of his mind—tore through him, sending his thoughts into chaos. They were like jolts of electricity, moments when his current self clashed with the future he had lived, battling with the past in a present that no longer belonged to him. It was no wonder such disruptions occurred, for he was living a time that had already become the past, thrown back into the present, where time itself seemed to be an elusive spectacle.

Deeming the horrors he endured—atrocious—barely scratched the surface of what he had encountered in his time away. Physically, he had survived—scraping by in the darkness of caverns, feeding on small creatures that crossed his path, and lighting fires from their bones to keep the cold at bay. It was a hell no mortal could comprehend. Physically surviving, yet endlessly lost in the mental labyrinth of unanswered questions, shattered dreams, and sudden epiphanies. 

Tampering with the very energy that shaped rock from stardust, and blood from matter—the vital core of life itself. He was beyond foolish to have once believed he could wield such power in the name of humankind’s technological progress. How naïve he had been, to think that a mere mortal could control forces unknown to their kind, and expect no consequence.

This was his consequence. To have forgotten the blissfully ignorant construct of time. To have forgotten what joyfulness truly was. To have forgotten love in its entirety—who to love, how to love, and who had once loved him.

To know nothing but pain. Nothing but sorrow. Nothing but the lingering ache of ignorance lost, the fleeting happiness once found in the mere desire to uncover the answers he now possessed. He sought answers, and answers were what he got. But within those answers lay a terror unlike any other—a terror born of witnessing what could have been, what did happen, and what will inevitably unfold from his actions. 

Jayce felt the weight of this burden crashing down around him, tightening around his throat like an enraged serpent. Breathing itself had become as foreign as the sunlight. He choked out, unable to cry out in pain as another ripple in the fabric of time surged through him, seemingly splitting his head in two. He screamed, yet no sound escaped him once more.

He had no time for this. No time for anything. Time was both nonexistent and forever slipping away—a paradox in its purest form.

He pressed on, driven by an iron will to reach his destination before his earthly body could endure another ounce of pain or suffering. Minutes passed, though they felt more like hours—an eternity in the spaces between each breath.

He could feel the coiled serpent around his neck loosening as the sight of a still, all-too-familiar building came into view. Jayce was breathing heavily now—panting, gasping, his shoulders rising and falling with the weight of exhaustion, a feeling he had come to know too well.

Jayce gripped his trusted hammer tightly, positioning the handle and aiming it at the solid door ahead. With a swift pull of the long metal release bar, the hum of his hextech beam sliced through the air, the door offering no resistance as it imploded. 

Jayce pushed through without hesitation or abandon, stumbling through the opening he had created, breathing hard all the while. His gaze settled on the familiar surroundings. He remembered this place. Her home. His home. Their home.

He hurled his hammer aside, the hefty weapon crashing into a nearby coffee table. The sharp crack of the wood splintering beneath the weight of the metal rang through the space, a loud echo sure to stir anyone in the house—if the blast of the door hadn’t already.

Jayce didn’t pause. He doubled down, picking up speed as he raced through the lower level of the house, frantic, desperate to find her. Room to room he searched, the pain in his leg screaming in protest, but he didn’t stop.

Yet, she was nowhere to be found. Jayce cursed loudly, slamming his fist into a nearby wall, the house shaking under the force of his strike.

She wasn’t here. Where else could she be?

His anger grew as he moved, a hurricane of frustration until he reached the base of the staircase. Once more, his fist collided with the wall, a primal curse escaping his lips—anger, guilt, and confusion tumbling out in the heat of the moment.

"FUCK!" he shouted, pounding his fist repeatedly into the wall, leaving a substantial dent in its wake.

His rage was all-consuming, blinding, and relentless as he acknowledged the thick layers of dust that caked the railing of the staircase before him. 

Has he really been gone that long?

He could feel the weight of his grief, the tears gathering in his eyes, threatening to fall, tracing the sharp curve of his cheekbones.

Yet another grim reality came crashing down upon him—the unbearable truth that he had, indeed, outlived the one radiant beacon of his desires, the singular flame that had given his life meaning. The knife of guilt plunged itself deeper into his chest as he realized he could no longer even summon her name, lost amid the swarm of revelations and horrors that had become his affliction.

But then, a faint sound—something delicate, breathy, and quiet—caught his attention.

Jayce had been the loudest force in the house, but his ears were tuned to the silence that followed him, alert to anything out of place.

A gasp. A small one. Almost imperceptible. 

His head snapped up, his gaze sharp, seeking the source of the sound. His eyes scanned each step, weaving between the banisters of the staircase until they found the outline of a face—half of it, barely visible from behind the uppermost curve of the staircase. The spaces between the columns made it difficult to catch a clear view, but he could see just enough.

Jayce stood rooted to the spot, the air thick with disbelief. He couldn’t trust his eyes—not after all he’d endured, not after the nightmares that had taunted him for so long. But there she was, standing at the top of the staircase. Her outline blurred and shimmering, as if she were a mirage conjured from his aching, fragmented mind.

She didn’t move. She couldn’t. Her fingers gripped the banister, knuckles white, as if it was the only thing keeping her tethered to this moment. Her eyes locked on his, wide and unblinking, and the emotion within them struck him like a blow. Shock. Pain. Recognition. A mirror of his own soul laid bare.

Slowly, cautiously, she began to descend, each step hesitant as though the floor beneath her might give way.

Jayce couldn’t breathe. The sight of her stole whatever remnants of air remained in his lungs. He wanted to call out to her, to say her name, but the word escaped him, lost somewhere deep in the fractures of his memory. His hands trembled at his sides, and his knees threatened to buckle.

When she reached the bottom, she paused, so close he could feel the faint warmth of her presence. Her lips parted as though to speak, but no words came. Instead, her hand rose, trembling, hovering near his face. Her fingers grazed the roughness of his beard—unfamiliar, foreign to the Jayce she had once known. Her gaze searched his, desperate for something familiar beneath the layers of torment etched into his features. Her touch was a question, a plea, a prayer.

“Is it really you?” she whispered, her voice barely audible, trembling far worse than her hand.

Her words, her cadence, the very sound of the way she construed her syllables together stirred something deep within him. 

It started faint, a flicker in the void of his memory. A flash of light in the darkness, a melody half-remembered. Her laughter, her smile, her voice—it came rushing back, filling the empty, aching spaces in his mind. He remembered the way her eyes sparkled when she teased him, the warmth of her hand in his, the softness of her lips when they whispered promises meant to last forever. He remembered late nights in their home, her humming a tune he could never place, and the way she fit perfectly against his side, as though they had been made for each other.

And then her name emerged, clear and resounding, breaking through the haze like sunlight piercing storm clouds. It struck him with staggering force, his breath hitching in his chest.

“____...” he whispered, her name trembling on his lips. It felt strange and familiar all at once, like a language he had known in another life. The syllables tasted of longing, regret, and an aching love that had never truly left him. Her name wasn’t just a word; it was an invocation, a tether to everything he had been and everything he had lost.

She gasped, her hand freezing on his face as the sound of her name from his lips shattered something inside her. Her tears fell faster, her face crumbling under the weight of his voice, the voice she had feared she might never hear again.

“It’s me,” she choked out, her voice breaking, thick with disbelief and raw emotion. “It’s me, baby. It’s me.”

Jayce said nothing more. He couldn’t. The dam within him had broken, and there was no holding back the flood of emotions that consumed him. He reached for her, his hands trembling as they gripped her shoulders, desperate to anchor himself to her presence. The sound of her name reverberated in his mind, in his heart, and in his very soul. 

Like clockwork, instinct overcame him, and he pulled her into his arms. His hand slid up, fingers weaving into the familiar softness of her hair, cradling the back of her head as though afraid she might disappear if he let go. The other wrapped firmly around her waist, his trembling grip binding her to him, locking her in place against his chest as if he could shield her from every cruel force in the universe.

They stood there, unmoving, a living sculpture of sorrow and relief intertwined. Their shared sobs filled the air, broken and uneven, their abdomens convulsing in an imperfect rhythm, a pattern dictated by the sheer weight of their emotions.

Her arms shot up, wrapping tightly around his neck, clinging to him with a fierceness that rivaled the serpent from earlier. But this was no constriction of malice—this was desperation, a refusal to let go, an embrace steeped in the agony of their time apart and the fragile hope of this reunion.

She buried her face into the curve of his shoulder, her tears soaking into the rough fabric of his battered coat. Jayce pressed his face into her hair, inhaling the faint trace of a scent he thought he’d never experience again. It was real—she was real. And so was he. Together, they formed an unyielding testament to survival, to love found again in the wreckage of time and pain.

The world around them faded into silence, the echoes of shattered furniture and crumbling walls irrelevant. There was nothing else—just the two of them, locked in a moment that transcended everything else. 

In that embrace, time ceased to exist. There was no past, no future, only the moment—the aching, beautiful reunion of two souls who had endured the unendurable, and somehow found their way back to each other.

For the first time in what didn’t merely feel like an eternity—but what, for him, truly was an eternity—Jayce allowed himself to breathe. The unrelenting grip of despair that had clung to him for so long loosened its hold, and he surrendered to the fragile, radiant possibility of solace.

He melted into her touch, the warmth of her embrace dissolving the armor of anguish he had worn for so long. The waves of hope, love, and longing coursed through him like a rising tide, washing over his battered soul, cleansing him of every hardship and sin that had clung to him. 

Each tear that fell from his eyes felt like a release, a quiet surrender to the overwhelming truth that she was here, alive, and within his grasp. For the first time in a recent lifetime of torment, Jayce felt the faint glimmer of what it meant to be whole again. In her arms, he rediscovered the segments of himself he thought had been lost forever. He pulled his face from the crook of her neck, craning up ever so slightly to meet her gaze from the step above him.

In the raw, aching silence of the eye contact, he kissed her.

It was not a kiss of restraint, not the gentle touch of lovers reunited after a brief absence. No, this was a kiss of desperate need, of a hunger so deep it could never be satisfied with mere words. His lips crashed against hers with an intensity borne of years of pain, the searing heat of their touch shattering any trace of distance that had ever existed between them. The world spun around them, time itself seemed to hesitate, unsure if it dared to move forward while these two souls collided, intertwining in a dance they had been separated from for far too long.

His hands cradled her face, as if he could memorize every curve, every contour of her like the final piece of a shattered puzzle. His thumb traced the delicate line of her jaw, brushing away tears that mingled with his own, but the salt of them only added to the kiss. Her hands clung to his shoulders, pulling him in, urging him closer, as if she, too, feared he might disappear into the ether if she didn't hold him tight enough.

Her lips were as soft as he remembered, and yet, they were so much more now. They spoke a language only the broken could understand—tender, yearning, seeking. His own lips moved over hers with an urgency that spoke of things unspoken, of years lost and never returned, of the agony of not knowing if the person before him had ever truly existed outside of memory. But here she was, warm in his arms, and the kiss deepened, no longer a question but an answer—a promise, a return to everything they had lost, and everything they could still become.

His hands roamed over her back, as if trying to remember every inch of her, as if the very touch of her skin reminded him more of everything he had witnessed than the sheer fact that it was something he had only just been through. It reminded him of everything he had suffered—just to be here, in this moment. He kissed her with the weight of all that and more, as if their love had never left him, even in the darkest hours. He kissed her like she was the last obstacle in the way of sanity in a world that had spun too far out of control. And when they finally pulled apart, breathless and trembling, the air between them was thick with the unspoken realization that the past—no matter how broken—was never truly lost.

And for the first time in forever, Jayce allowed himself to believe in miracles.

“I thought I’d lost you,” he whispered, his voice raw and shaky against her lips, his fingers tightening in her hair, though never enough to hurt.

“I thought you’d never come back,” she replied, her voice trembling with an aching yearning. She pulled her arms from around his neck, her hands grabbing the collar of his shirt, pulling him even closer, as if their bodies could merge into one.

Jayce huffed against her lips, their breaths tangled together, hearts racing. Their lips met again, moving together with an urgency, a desperate rhythm of grinding, sliding—like they were both trying to consume the other, as if time itself could be stolen through every kiss.

There were no more words to be spoken, no explanations needed at this time. Everything that needed to be said would happen outside of this moment, beyond the confines of the here and now. In this space, within the familiar walls of their home, the only thing left to do was to cherish, savor, and surrender to the love that had been lost and now found.

They moved as if guided by an unspoken understanding, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as his hands rose to cradle the curve of her body. His fingers traced the soft, bare skin of her thighs, caressing gently before gripping her firmly, as if to reassure himself she was truly there.

With a quiet, unrelenting need, he pressed her back into the wall—the same one he had pummeled with his fist mere moments ago. The contrast of his previous rage and the tender, consuming embrace was stark, as the heat between them grew, their bodies aligning in need.

Neither of them had the patience for anything more than the raw, burning need to be together again. Clothes were discarded in hurried motions, a belt undone with an urgency that mirrored the storm raging between them.

As if their bodies had always been the missing pieces of a puzzle, they came together without thought, fitting perfectly in a way only years of passion and love could understand. It was a reunion, not just of flesh, but of something deeper—an unspoken connection that had always waited beneath the surface, now finally able to breach it. 

Jayce groaned out, sinking his cock down to the hilt inside her. His belt hung loosely, the buckle clinking faintly, like a soft chime in the quiet chaos of their reunion. His hips shifted with a subtle sway, his body still aching, but driven by the shared overwhelming need. 

One hand braced against the wall, fingers tracing the jagged divot he had created earlier, finding an oddly fitting purchase there. The other hand cupped the side of her face, pulling her closer, his lips leaving a trail of fiery kisses across her cheek, down the curve of her neck, and grazing the exposed sliver of skin on her collarbone just beneath the neckline of her shirt. Every touch was a silent gospel, a desperate reaffirmation that she was truly there.

He grunted, huffing out as his cock twitched amongst the walls of her cunt, her slick coating every shred of skin he buried between them. 

She cried out, the tears of her passion and devastation still streaming down her face as she moaned against his shoulder, hands still gripping for dear life at his shirt. 

Jayce couldn’t do anything but move—move against her, move within her, as if each shift and press was an unspoken promise. He needed her to feel the weight of everything that had passed between them, the years apart, the torment, the longing. His body spoke in the language of devotion, an unyielding motion that expressed what words could not. He wanted her to feel everything—the regret, the pain, the aching desire to make her understand that he had never meant to leave her. Every movement was a plea for redemption, an effort to show her that his absence had never been by choice, and that now, with her in his arms, he would never leave again.

Not until every moment with her had been relived in full, paid in full—a debt he had accumulated, whether or not it had ever been his intention. 

Furthermore, not until the day he was laid to rest. 

With the very weight of his intended unspoken purpose, he did as he needed. He began moving against her, driving his cock further into her before pulling his hips back with great resistance. Oh, how he had dreamed of staying there, deep within her, until their bodies became one. A dream he could fulfill one day, but not this day. No.

He had to do what he must. The new mission that called to him. Repentance for his guilt.

He bore down, removing the hand from her face, exchanging a greeting with her hip as he used both it and the anchor on the wall to aid the snapping of his hips into hers. Her legs coiled ever stronger around his waist as he moved, hazy spots clouding her vision as he drove the head of his cock deep into a spot she knew he remembered just where to find. 

He continued, the duet of their sounds merging into a symphony that reverberated through the hollow structure of the house.

He knew he couldn’t stop, couldn't dare break his stride, but the weight of his earthly injury proved too great a challenge. His knee, the very one that had borne the brunt of the fall into the caverns that had held him captive for so long, began to give way.

A hiss escaped him as his knee buckled, sending him crashing into the wall, taking her down with him. He fumbled in frustration, angry that this obstacle had to arise now. She cupped his face gently, pulling him out of the haze of passion for a moment. Her eyes were full of forgiveness, understanding, and love.

With a soft kiss—chaste yet filled with tenderness—she slowly pushed him away. Breathless, her chest rising and falling in rhythm with his, she guided him gently toward the staircase. She eased him down to the step she had just occupied, his rear meeting the step with an awkward thud as he struggled to use his knee. She almost laughed at the flustered look on his face.

There he sat, cock out, needy as ever, glistening with the physical proof of her desires, gazing up at her like a man who had been lost in a storm for years—and in her presence, found the calm, the shelter, the promise of everything he had ever longed for.

She was never able, in all the years spent with him, to deny the way he looked at her—with nothing more than pure adoration, as if his gaze alone could encompass the depth of every sweltering emotion he had ever felt, each one overflowing like a tide too vast to hold back. 

It sent lightning bolting through her veins as she lifted the hem of her dress by the waistline, clearing it from her shins as she moved them on either side of his thighs. In a quick movement, she descended into his lap, sinking back down onto his cock like a glass slipper to a foot–the kind you read about in fairytales. 

Jayce’s eyes refused to close, despite the overwhelming pleasure that urged them to surrender. He couldn’t bear to look away—not when he had once forgotten her face, a face he could never fathom losing from his memory again. He would spend an eternity gazing at it, tracing every curve, every expression, if it meant he’d never risk forgetting again.

She cooed softly, a hum deep in her chest as she stilled atop him. Without warning, she braced herself with her hands on his shoulders and began to move. Her knees ground harshly against the wooden step beneath them, the sting sharp but dismissed as something fleeting, unworthy of attention in this sacred moment.

Jayce’s hands found their way to her hips, guiding and assisting her as she moved, his good knee pressing up into her, adding to the rhythm as she rolled her hips down into his lap.

He stared up at her, almost in awe, desperate to say something—anything—that might amplify the intensity of the moment. She could see the storm of thoughts behind his eyes, and with a gentle shake of her head, she silenced him, her gesture a tender "not now."

Jayce nodded, his mouth sealing shut once more as he pulled her down, their lips reconnecting in a fierce kiss. Their tongues danced together, reacquainting themselves, as the tension they both craved began to stir deep within them, rising like a wave that would soon crash.

She could tell by the way his breath quickened, and the way he gripped at her hips—attempting to pull her harder and faster against him, that he was close. 

She could feel her own impending orgasm approaching faster than she cared to admit. After several more seconds, she came undone, the walls of her cunt spasming and twitching against his cock as they tightened around him. 

Jayce groaned out with the unholiest of moans as he could no longer stifle his own orgasm. He came hard, slamming her hips into his lap one final time as the streams and strokes of his cum lathered her internal walls. 

And just like that, as if the very fabric of time were being stitched back together, the rift felt whole again. The weight of everything that had been forced upon him, every choice he had made, and the heavy burden of his mission’s fate, all dissipated into nothingness. In that fleeting moment, the past and future aligned, and the crushing pressure of it all faded into serenity. 

The two people, united by more than sweat and tears, felt a deep harmony between them, as if everything in the world had realigned. In that moment, it was as though the universe itself had whispered that all was right. Together, they could face the trials of the new day, conquer every obstacle that came their way, and overcome every hardship as one. 

With the shifting weight of time that had passed, and the uncertain future that lay ahead—yet one that felt equally decided—there remained an essence of calm, unburdened by fear. In that moment, both past and future were held in a quiet certainty, as if all things had already been set in motion, and nothing could sway them from their course.

There was no challenge too great, no burden too heavy, for they were stronger together than they could ever be apart.

[mydearestbeloved]

Chapter 2 [Draft]

Sung Jinwoo/Trial Player!Reader

CW: Reader is still traumatized, she just got better at concealing it.

Inspired by @circeyoru ‘s “Future Power Couple”

[Masterlist🦋✨️]

The system had one more surprise for you, a reward for completing the job-change quest. You felt a spark of curiosity as a partially uncovered map appeared on your interface, revealing new areas of the hanging gardens you’d yet to explore. Three distinct spots blinked on the map, each marked with a mysterious [?]. When you brushed your fingers across the symbols, a new sub-quest emerged:

[New Quest: Raise the Three [?] in the Greenhouse]

Requirement: Poison Resistance at Max Level.

You raised a brow at the word “raise” and the strange requirement. “Raise? As in… nurturing?” You frowned, glancing out at the poisonous remnants of the Hydra carcass you hadn’t used up yet. You’d learned quickly enough that the system was anything but straightforward.

Letting out a sigh, you renewed the barrier around the ruin you’d claimed as shelter—a small, stone building tucked into the dense foliage of the gardens. This place, it turned out, had a peculiar set of rules. The ancient ruins, once guarded by fierce beasts, had somehow become safe havens the moment you’d cleared their guardians. No more beasts dared to set foot inside, as if instinctively avoiding your territory. It wasn’t foolproof; an occasional daring creature would wander in, but a quick blast from your barrier, which aged intruders to dust upon contact, took care of any unwanted guests. You weren’t the best at spells yet, but this one was second nature by now.

You returned to the remaining chunks of the Hydra, your gaze hardening. Raising Poison Resistance meant facing discomfort—and lots of it. “Might as well let a few poisonous creatures in here if they’re willing to volunteer for a quick bite,” you muttered wryly.

With a sigh, you focused on the Hydra’s poison sac, the one that hadn’t yet dissolved into your weapons or alchemical tools. It took a moment to steel your nerves, and you tried not to gag as you bit into a small piece. The bitterness was overwhelming, coursing through you like liquid fire as your body struggled to process the deadly toxin. Pain flared through your body, yet with each swallow, you felt Poison Resistance inching closer to max once again.

When at last the skill reached its cap, the queasiness lingered, but you were used to the edge of discomfort by now. You eyed the map once more and headed toward the eastern greenhouse, where the first marked location lay waiting.

---

The greenhouse loomed ahead, in the center of a labyrinth shrouded in a thin, deadly mist that seemed to roll and pulse with each gust of wind. You recognized it immediately, the familiar caustic bite of poison that hung in the air like a warning. Vivid red spider lilies crowded the path ahead, their delicate petals as striking as they were venomous. You tightened your grip on your staff, now reforged with Hydra scales and sharpened claws from previous beasts. Its natural durability had been enhanced with your crafting and enchanted with the very poison resistance you’d just maxed out, making it as much a part of you as the skills you carried.

As you approached, the mist seemed to shift, parting just enough for you to slip through. “Well, system, I have to admit—thank you,” you muttered, feeling an unfamiliar warmth in your chest. Maybe it was just adrenaline, but you felt… encouraged. Supported, almost, as if the system itself was smiling in approval.

Inside the greenhouse, the landscape changed completely. Strange, vibrant flora covered the ground in carpets of emerald and violet, their beauty matched only by their toxicity. Every few steps, a new danger presented itself: dense patches of thorny vines, glistening fruits that reeked of acid, and piles of withered beast corpses scattered in clusters, likely succumbed to the poisonous air.

A faint energy pulsed from one such pile, drawing your attention. You watched as tiny threads of power drifted from the dead creatures, weaving a faint, ethereal trail toward the heart of the greenhouse. Steeling yourself, you followed the trail, wary of any surprises the system might throw your way.

At the center of the greenhouse, your destination awaited. Nestled amidst the toxic flowers was an egg, a large, beautifully marked shell with patterns that seemed to shift under the faint glow of the greenhouse. The egg was easily the size of an ostrich egg, just large enough that you’d have to use both hands to hold it.

"An egg…?” You knelt beside it, tilting your head in wonder. The system’s quest said to “raise” something, not conquer. Perhaps this was what it meant? Taking a steadying breath, you reached out and brushed your fingers against the shell’s cool, smooth surface.

Magic drained from you instantly, pulled into the egg like a sponge soaking up water. Startled, you pulled your hand back, but the system chimed just then, flashing a new progress bar on the interface.

[Progress: 0.5%]

“So, you’re hungry,” you murmured, glancing back at the egg with newfound interest. You fed it again, just a bit, feeling the faintest of tugs as the egg greedily absorbed your magic. There were no other instructions from the system, so you trusted your instincts, continuing to feed it carefully before moving on.

---

After days of tending to the eastern greenhouse, you made your way to the second, located to the north. This greenhouse was equally haunting, yet elegant, with silver-touched flowers shimmering under the toxic mist, their delicate forms reflecting your own silver-tipped butterflies waiting inside.

The third greenhouse, farther west, was filled with golden flora, luminescent and even more otherworldly than the first two. You took it slow, visiting each greenhouse in turn, feeding each egg with careful doses of your magic every day, watching as the progress bars edged forward bit by bit.

The weeks passed, and one morning, you felt a subtle shift in the air as you entered the eastern greenhouse. The poisonous mist seemed lighter, less oppressive, and there was a hum of energy in the air.

As you approached, the egg began to crack, delicate fissures tracing across the surface. You took a step back, anticipation tightening your chest. With a quiet snap, the shell split apart, and dozens of delicate butterflies emerged, each one a deep, vivid red with black markings, like a living tapestry of flame and shadow.

They fluttered toward you, swirling around in a crimson cloud, their tiny wings creating a soft whispering sound. You felt a surge of warmth in your heart, and then, quite suddenly, a link formed. It was as if something deep within you opened, and a flood of emotions that weren’t entirely yours rushed in—a rush of joy, excitement, almost as if these creatures were children greeting a parent.

A notification pinged in the corner of your vision.

[First Summons Acquired. Skill Unlocked: Devour.]

You blinked at the message, feeling the butterflies’ connection as they danced around you, the link between you so strong that it was almost a presence on its own. You smiled. “Welcome,” you whispered, watching them respond to your voice with an excited flurry of movement.

---

The northern egg hatched next, releasing silver butterflies that glistened like tiny stars as they joined their red siblings. The system chimed again:

[New Skill Unlocked: Illusionary.]

You nodded thoughtfully, observing how they seemed to blur slightly at the edges, as though they could shift in and out of sight with a single beat of their wings.

The final greenhouse brought forth golden butterflies, their iridescent wings gleaming as they joined the colorful cloud around you. Another notification appeared.

[New Skill Unlocked: Conversion.]

Your butterflies had grown in number and color, each new skill adding layers to their abilities. Through the bond, you could sense their instinctual need to siphon energy, using Devour to draw life force from nearby creatures, even from enemies you struck down. They didn’t just drain mana but seemed to consume a deeper energy, one that left their targets visibly withered, almost as though they had aged.

The butterflies worked best with living enemies, but you noticed that they could still feed on fresh corpses. Excess energy would gather, like a reservoir they could channel into Illusionary, casting illusions that confused and disoriented anyone in the vicinity. And with Conversion, they could transfer this gathered energy back to you as stat boosts, enhancing your strength, agility, or even resistance as needed.

Your connection to them went beyond mere loyalty. They responded to your thoughts and emotions with a surprising level of awareness, almost like a family bond. You could feel their curiosity, their delight at each new experience, their fierce protective instinct toward you. It was… comforting.

As you sat amidst the crimson flowers, surrounded by butterflies shimmering in red, silver, and gold, the system chimed with a new message.

[Progress Update: New Territory Established. Summons Obtained.]

The butterflies pulsed with warmth, as if mirroring the glow in your heart, and you found yourself smiling. With each day, each trial, this strange, deadly world felt a little less lonely.

-----

Years had passed, each one carved into memory with sweat, blood, and an unyielding drive to master every corner of the Hanging Gardens. Now, standing at the apex of the tallest terrace, you looked over this dungeon. The once mysterious Hanging Gardens of Babylon—its poisonous flowers, mist-filled greenhouses, and vicious beasts—were yours, every leaf, every stone. The system’s notification chimed joyfully in your mind, its usual voice almost warm with enthusiasm.

[Congratulations! The Hanging Gardens of Babylon have been conquered. This domain is now fully under your command and may be summoned at will.]

A breeze brushed past you, carrying the fragrance of spider lilies, and you felt the soft hum of connection as your butterflies, red, silver, and gold, hovered nearby. They, too, seemed to share in the moment, fluttering around you in an almost celebratory dance. It was an accomplishment, one that had demanded not only strength but a near-constant honing of mind and magic. And yet, a subtle unease lingered.

“Five years,” you murmured, running a hand along the cold stone of the terrace.

The system’s voice, now more familiar than any you had known, spoke up, chiming with an almost playful tone.

[System Update: New Title Earned. Full access granted to all facilities. Congratulations on achieving a historical title! You’ve come a long way, haven’t you?]

Its words made you pause, an eyebrow arching. The system had certainly… evolved. It wasn’t just the usual messages of leveling up or congratulatory pings. It talked now, weaving a bit of personality into every line. Its tone had become lighter, its responses more intuitive. It was as if the system was growing, almost developing alongside you. At first, you’d thought you were imagining it, attributing quirks to a basic AI. But now, with it chiming in with what felt like an almost affectionate encouragement, you were certain.

These past five years, you’d had plenty of time to reflect on your unique system. Unlike Jinwoo’s cold, calculating Architect-driven system, yours seemed to possess a curious spark of life. Its instructions were often more considerate, almost guiding rather than commanding. The system didn’t merely throw you into battles; it often hinted at strategies, nudging you toward smarter approaches. In its own way, it cared.

“You know, I’ve been wondering… you’re not like… colder, more rigid,” you said, almost as if testing the waters. “You’re… different.”

There was a brief pause before the system responded, an almost contemplative pause, which only heightened your suspicions.

[Why, thank you! It’s nice to be unique, don’t you think? But… let’s just say, I’m invested in your progress. Besides, you’re different too, right?]

You blinked at that, genuinely taken aback. It wasn’t confirmation, but it wasn’t exactly denial either.

“System, who are you really?” you muttered under your breath, half-hoping for an answer. But as always, silence met your question, leaving you with nothing but a gnawing sense of curiosity. Was this truly the Architect, or had something—someone—else taken over your progression?

Before you could press it further, the system added another message, its usual chirp back in place.

[New Quest: The World Beyond The Garden]

“Alright, fair enough,” you muttered. For now, the Architect’s mystery would have to wait. There was a much more immediate issue at hand.

Your butterflies, your children, flitted around you, red, silver, and gold flashing in the sunlight, each one as lethal as they were beautiful. You could feel their excitement through the bond, a quiet chorus of joy thrumming in the back of your mind. This was as much a victory for them as it was for you—they had fought by your side every step of the way, each swarm expanding your reach, devouring threats that dared to approach the heart of your garden.

“Alright, my lovelies,” you whispered, extending a hand. They swarmed to you instantly, clustering around your fingers, resting on your shoulders. “We did it. Our own territory.” The swarm pulsed in response, their energies mingling with yours, a bond deepening with every beat.

Yet even with victory secured, there was little time to bask in success. If there was one thing you’d learned through these years, it was to always look ahead, to always be prepared. The system had been quiet about what lay beyond this domain, but now you could finally step out of the Gardens, explore what lay outside the invisible walls. A sense of anticipation bubbled within you.

“We need to plan,” you said aloud, pacing along the edge of a moss-covered stone wall, feeling the texture under your fingers as you surveyed the greenery stretching beneath you. “Let’s see…”

---

That night, you sat in what had become your home in the heart of Babylon, a former ruin now restored through countless hours of enchantments, remodeling, and sheer will. In the dim light, the place felt almost like a sanctuary—stone walls covered in ancient carvings, a table cluttered with potion ingredients, maps, weapons, and the occasional butterfly flitting around your head, like watchful little guardians.

You sat in silence, drawing up plans on a worn piece of parchment, contemplating your next steps. For five years, the outside world had been a mystery. But now, you had the Gardens as your fortress, a sanctuary and weapon in one. It was time to venture beyond its walls.

Still, this step forward needed more than a hasty departure. You had built power here, but the unknown was not to be taken lightly. You took a deep breath and gathered your thoughts, knowing you’d need every skill, every spell, every ounce of knowledge you’d gained in the Gardens to be ready.

First order of business. Over the years, you’d grown skilled at forging weapons, crafting potions, and creating everything you needed to survive. But now, with access to the entire Hanging Gardens, you could tap into the rare resources and materials hidden in its depths.

The Guardian beasts you’d slain, each of them, had left their remains scattered across the territory. You’d salvaged much over the years, but you still hadn’t harnessed it all. Each beast’s unique traits—strength, agility, regeneration, and more—could be integrated into your weaponry, imbuing them with abilities you couldn’t have dreamt of before. Your fingers itched with anticipation at the prospect.

“And there’s the greenhouse,” you murmured, glancing toward the faint outline of the glass-laced structure. Your butterflies had thrived within those greenhouses, feeding on the potent poisons and life force the plants exuded. It was a limitless source of strength that you hadn’t fully tapped into yet.

"Imagine the alchemical concoctions we could make with the plants here," you mused, addressing the system as if it were listening. You could almost feel its curiosity flare, and a faint message appeared.

[System: Experimenting with the native flora and fauna may yield unique abilities or enhancements. Proceed with caution.]

You smirked. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m not that reckless.”

[…]

“Cut me some slack, will you?”

---

Second order of business. Owning the Gardens meant more than possessing the land—it meant defending it. The system had informed you that only you and your chosen people can enter, but it never hurts to prepare for the worst. Reinforcing the perimeter, setting up traps, and bolstering your creatures’ abilities would all be essential.

And your magic had grown stronger, too. You’d developed barriers that could age intruders to dust, illusions that could confuse and misdirect, and even the ability to harness the energy of the land itself. Now, the gardens were an extension of you; any intruder would feel your presence pressing down upon them like a storm cloud before they ever saw you.

“They’ll regret stepping foot in my domain,” you said with quiet conviction, gripping the scepter-like staff that had become your constant companion. “Won’t they, system?”

A gentle chime followed. It was as close as the system would ever get to an agreement, and it made you grin.

---

Third order of business. Preparing for what lies beyond was easier said then done. What should you do once you stepped out?

You need connections, maybe you should start a business? You considered finding potential allies. During your time in the Gardens, you’d learned to rely on yourself, but the idea of allies… could you even trust someone else in that world? Your gaze hardened. Perhaps, if they could prove their worth. And if they couldn’t—well, your butterflies were always eager to feed.

A flutter of red and gold filled your vision, and you looked up, smiling at your butterflies. They seemed to hover in silent agreement.

“Settle down, my children,” you said, reaching up to let them settle on your hand, “we still have a lot of work to do.”

As the sun dipped lower on the horizon, casting shadows across the gardens, you took in a deep breath, filling your lungs with the scent of the rich, thriving land around you. This was yours now. Every stone, every tree, every creature. It was a haven, a fortress—and perhaps, one day, it would become a kingdom.

---

In the morning, you stood at the edge of a small floating island, more isolated than the rest, overlooking the Gardens in all its galore. Surveying your domain one last time before setting out, the gate situated at the heart of the small temple behind you hummed. The butterflies swirled around you protectively, their connection to you almost buzzing with anticipation.

You took a deep breath, grounding yourself. And with that, you stepped out of the Hanging Gardens, your butterflies trailing after you, their wings catching the first light of dawn. The world beyond awaited.

[Welcome to our world, Sovereign of the Hanging Gardens.]

End Note:

Draft of [08/10/2024] - Chronicles of The Hanging Gardens, Part II