#bootstrap assignment help

[tealvenetianmask]

Is there stigma about mental illness in Hell?

Personal bit: I've had chronic depression and anxiety for my entire adult life, and I used to guard it as this big secret, but now I have friends and coworkers who are understanding and have their own issues. And I work in a helping profession where I see that dealing with this stuff is just really fucking common. But recently I've had a bit of culture shock hanging out with my family, and realizing that... oh wait, we still treat our mental health issues like deep dark secrets and refuse to talk about them and/or seek help. And that's the only acceptable way to act. Okay. Thanks guys.

Personal ramble aside, yes, mental health stigma is still an issue in America, 2024 (obviously). And thanks to Sinsmas, I'm convinced that it's an issue in Vivzie's Hell too, in a way that's pretty reflective of how real contemporary society treats it.

Stolas chooses not to tell Blitz about his happy pills. We find out as the episode progresses that he never told Via either.

And plenty of arguments could be made about Stolas just not wanting to burden the people he cares most for. Not wanting Via to worry about him. Not wanting Blitz to be put out financially by tracking down the pills. But I think there's a level of embarrassment here too, and here's why.

Stolas has spent his life being told to bottle up his emotions, and we have evidence of this. We've also seen him struggling to hide his emotions from Blitz before, turning his back in The Full Moon, and straining when forcing himself to stop crying in Apology Tour.

Is the cultural aversion to displays of emotion just an upper class thing in Hell? I think the answer is "sort of." There are ways in which a Goetia is expected to behave, and lower-class demons have more freedom.

BUT

It's not really that simple. We saw toxic masculinity coming from Millie's parents and from Crimson, and that kind of attitude sort of goes hand in hand with mental health stigma. We also saw Verosika say this-

Which shows a certain attitude toward seeking treatment . . .

And Blitz ALSO has a preoccupation with acting like he's fine and can handle things without help that seems very grounded in sort of a working class, "pull yourself up by your bootstraps" attitude. (Bye to all that by Ghostfuckers..)

This has all been a very long way of saying that yes, mental health stigma in Hell is significant and affects our characters.

So what role does discovering Stolas's pills play for Via?

She takes them as confirmation of her fear (one she already had a lot of evidence for, to be fair...) that Stolas stayed in a miserable marriage for 17 years just for her. And more- that she was "never enough" to make him happy.

And she's right but. She's oversimplifying it. She did make her dad happy. When someone's suffering, from abuse, from mental illness, from . . . literal society . . . one wonderful relationship is still not going to make their life a happy one.

Beyond Stolas's specific situation, people with great lives sometimes need happy pills. People's lives are multifaceted, and that's a lot for a young person to understand sometimes.

So if Octavia had grown up in a situation where people . . . idk, talked about mental health and didn't stigmatize emotions . . .?

Yeah, I think she'd react differently to the happy pills. But more importantly, the level of secrecy wouldn't be the same. Stolas would have been more open about his range of emotions and about needing pills, and in countless other ways this situation would have played out differently.

And now I'm tying myself in knots trying to imagine Goetia culture WITHOUT mental health stigma. I don't think it would exist in the same way at all. Quick, someone get an army of excellent mental health professionals and assign them to every single member of Hell's aristocracy.

[javiersprincess]

𝐌𝚬𝐋𝐓

tags: diluc birthday fic - fem reader, size difference, accidental creampie, temperature play, possessiveness, established relationship, the first time being intimate, marking, knight of favonius and cryo vision wielder reader. 6.k

synopsis: 𝐖𝐇𝚬𝐍 𝐂𝐑𝐘𝚶 𝐌𝚬𝚬𝐓𝐒 𝐏𝐘𝐑𝚶, 𝐌𝚬𝐋𝐓 𝚶𝐂𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐒.

You regret taking upon this assignment - more like a favor. The next time you see the blonde alchemist, you will freeze over all his ink pots. A small revenge for the suffering he put you through to head to his camp on Dragonspine for research notes he left behind. You sigh, tucking away the wind glider that you had used to descend the mountain, and think back to why you were sent - Klee is currently sick and has monopolized Albedo’s efforts, and you have always been weak to help the needy so you had readily agreed to the errand despite the blistering cold of the haunted mountain.

It seems your time under the tutelage of the Acting Grand Master has done you more harm than good.

Misfortune smiles upon you as you walk down the path that veers off the snowy side of the mountain, to the small river that leads onto the familiar view of tall grass and proud trees that decorate the land of the Anemo Archon. You are still shivering, and there is still some powdery snow on your hair that melts in the presence of the sun but as soon as you blink the sky darkens. You feel a small drip on the top of your head, and your shoulders drop in defeat as the scent of wet earth fills your nose and the sky is bloated black by the clouds - rainfall.

Just your luck, huh?

Your breath still mists over your lips and you shudder - fresh off the mountain and now getting soaked through by the rain a fog settles over your vision and you curse at how it blurs the sights together. Sucking on your teeth you ponder your options, it would be dangerous to use your wind glider now - you can’t see well, the mist of the mountain and the rain clouding what you can perceive even with your goggles. All you do is sigh and tug on your bootstraps, you are going to have to climb down the mountain.

It was easier than you expected if you discount the chattering of your teeth and the loss of feeling in your fingers despite your gloves. As you jump, climb, and trudge down the woods of Mondstadt you fail to notice that you have gone too far to the left of your map, and as you can begin to see the telltale sign of small, modest houses and crystal flies among grape vines; there is a flush that blooms across your face that isn’t from the nipping cold.

You’ve taken a big veer to the left and found yourself at Dawn Winery, subconsciously and purely by coincidence of course. A certain redhead flashes in your mind’s eye and you groan, bringing a hand up to your face in embarrassment. Even during your duties as a knight, your heart still leads you to the man you’ve recently started to court after having a harmless crush on him since his time in the Knights at the tender age of 14.

Lightning flashes, thunder booms, and the wind picks up whipping the hood of your outerwear back, you are so caught off guard you take a misstep sliding down the rocky side of the natural f formations of the mountain until you land at the base of the evergreen trees that reside on the paths that lead to the front door of the manor. It’s almost as if the Anemo Archon was pushing you toward the front door of the man you have loved since childhood. Picking yourself up, you swipe at the mud that mars your sleeves and trudge your way up the first paths that have turned into a mush of mud and rainwater. Arriving at the door you use the knocker, beating on the dark wood once and twice. You don’t have to wait for long when you see the familiar face of the head maid Adelinde, her blonde hair shines in the light of the lamp she holds in her hand. You wave timidly when she gasps your name, worry painting her face as she pulls you inside.

She’s rather strong for a maid, you think amused.

“What in the name of Barbatos were you doing out there?” She asks, lighting the fireplace in the drawing room and taking your outerwear away from you. You wince at how it drips onto the expensive wood flooring and how mud stains her sleeves. Your hair drips down your neck and you shiver, she hands you a towel - kept in the cabinet near the fireplace for emergencies at the table that is first seen when you enter through the front doors of the winery. She drags you to one of the fine chairs in front of the fire.

Before you could answer, a deep masculine voice rings from upstairs, calling out for Adelinde. Steps can be heard on the polished wood and you nervously tuck a stray hair behind your as the all too familiar scent of smokey wood and lampgrass fills your senses.

“Master Diluc, it seems we are having a special guest stay with us for the night.” The head maid says eyes flickering between the two of you as you squawk from your place in the chair. Diluc turns the corner, red eyes wide when he sees you, soaked through and shivering like a stray left in the rain. With the speed you’ve seen him exhibit in battle, he is by your side, his hand outreached to touch you before he freezes and drops his hand, still gloved by his side. Touching you so early into your budding relationship wouldn’t be proper -  and Diluc is nothing but a gentleman first and foremost.

“What happened?” He unknowingly parrots Adeline from before and you shudder before answering him, tentatively looking up at his eyes that flicker like the flames in the fireplace.

“Master Albedo asked me to retrieve research notes he left on the mountains.” You confess and wince at the scoff that leaves your lover and quickly fill him in as to why you went,

“Klee is ill so Albedo couldn’t go - I agreed to go.”Your stammer, feeling hot as the stern look on his handsome face fades to worry, you can still catch a subtle “The Knights are incompetent as ever.”

“You still shouldn’t have been sent alone.” Diluc murmurs, eyes flicking away to the flames in the fireplace. He sighs and goes to remove a red palmed glove, you watch the small action with wide eyes and swallow when you see his hands - pale and scarred, faint red hair glows in the low light of the fire and he says your name softly.

“May I touch you? I can use my vision to warm you.” You nod, wetting your lips as his hand comes to rest on the side of your face, warm and gentle in the way his palm molds to hold the weight of your cheek - red eyes glint pleased by how your shoulders drop and your eyes flutter shut by the comfort his body heat gives you. He smiles, cheeks tinged pink when he hears the small sigh that you puff out.

“I’ll have Adeline run you a bath and set some clothes for you. Have you eaten yet?” Your eyes, cloudy and relaxed, meet his eyes and he feels his heart might burst at how you look at him so trustingly - you shake your head to show that no, you haven’t eaten yet. 

“Some supper will be served for you then.” You think it’s from your long exposure to the elements but you usually would stammer and sputter at such treatment - telling him that he’s spoiling you too much but now you relax like the cat in the sun into the palm of his hand and let him do as he pleases.

“Send her to my quarters after her bath. We’ll eat there.” He instructs, absentmindedly rubbing his thumb into your cheek. Diluc’s blush darkens at the soft sound you make when he releases his hold on your face, he steps closer and your mind clouds as he becomes your world. He settles before you, tucking a stray hair from your face as he takes in your tattered form,

“It appears I’ll have to exchange some words with the Chief Alchemist. I can’t have him sending my love away on such dangerous tasks.” You wince at his words but your heart softens at the worry in his voice and the pet name he regards you with. Clearing your throat you try to soothe him,

“It’s alright Master Diluc - I should have been wiser and not agreed given the circumstances, the mountain has always been dangerous,” Your rambling is cut off by another pleased sound you make. He had momentarily moved away to remove the other remaining glove and pressed his now free hand to your forehead. Warm and dry, you feel the callouses from wielding the claymore against your skin but you could sigh at the touch. The hair there is still wet and you can feel how he gently tucks away the damp strands as he slowly increases the temperature on his hands to keep warming you up.

 “It’s only Diluc when you refer to me, dearest.” He rumbles from his position in front of you - something sweet in his smile as he recounts a fond childhood memory.

“My mother would refer to my father as Master Crepus when she was cross with him so,” Red eyes as warm as the embers in the fireplace before you dance so joyfully and you can’t say if it is the fire that warms you from the inside out or by how Diluc speaks to you as softly as the bat of a crystalfly’s wings. You find that you can’t bear the weight of his loving eyes so you duck, tucking your head into your chest and letting your wet hair block your view. 

“O-of course, Diluc - I’ll keep that in mind.” He smiles at you, the name he is so proud of sounds so sweet coming from your lips and he can’t but give into his lesser nature and hurries for you to say it again. Pushing and tucking away the hair you used to hide your flustered state, the skin where his hand had rested almost aches from his presence,

“Say it again, say my name one more time.” He asks, and you concede with a shy smile - stuttering over the proud syllables of his name. You find yourself unable to meet his gaze, eyes wide and face hot. You hide your face with the back of your hand, from behind the fire cracks. Anything that Diluc wishes to say, from asking you to say his name again or a comment on how you can’t bear his gaze Adeline calls from the staircase - “The bath is prepared, please head this way.” She says, smiling kindly to you as you rise but not without reaching out to squeeze his hand once then twice. 

“I’ll be back, okay?” You manage to squeak out - still timid but ever eager to be at his side. He smiles in that soft way where you can’t help but think he really hasn’t changed since he was a boy that would smile so freely. Adeline leads you to a much more private and grander bathroom than the one you have been directed to use before during your previous stays at the winery. The bathtub is filled with steaming, bubbly water, and the scent of flowers is heavy. Adeline instructs you to strip, turning for privacy and you tentatively begin to under the belts that keep up your trousers and armor.

You soon are undressed, and you are careful to submerge yourself as quickly as possible - clearing your throat timidly to allow Adelanine to turn over. The foamy surface of the bath allows you some privacy and the head maid smiles at you as gently as she usually does, collecting your muddy and soaking clothes into a wicker basket.

“I will set these aside to be washed in the morning - there will be a change of clothes brought to you when you are ready. The supper will be in the Master’s room as well.” She parts with those words and you don’t know if the heat you feel in your body is that of the bath or of the prospect of being in Diluc’s bedroom, alone with him. All the times you have spent with him were under the eyes of the staff - shared dinners and chess games, you playing the lute for him as he rested his eyes and listened lovingly. You don’t think that Diluc allows the staff into his room anymore, he is no longer a young lord that needs help being dressed so as you wash the mud and snow from your hair you can’t help but think of the private affair of dinner. Even the lovely scent of flower soaps and perfumes can keep your mind off it, you tilt your head back until it meets the rim of the tub.

You begin to observe the room around, all dark wood and gold - you see the engravings of grape veins and owls and it’s hard to not let your mind wander to your redhead lover.  You blink once, then twice, and sigh from your heart as you think of his vermillion eyes and delicate touches. Your hand, silky from the soaps and still toppled with foam rests upon your chest where the heart lies and you feel its steady beat rising as you sink further and further into your thoughts of the only man you’ve loved your whole life. The sea of your thoughts and the satin water of the bath have become one - you don’t realize you are in a trance until there is a knock on the door. You call out to let the person in, thinking it to be the ever-so-helpful blonde maid, who holds you in high esteem for making her lord smile so sweetly and boyishly.

Instead, the one who peers through the door is the object of your affection - broad and towering from your position in the bath, holding onto delicate fresh clothes in his arms. Nothing is said as he finally catches wind of your position, dewy and slick with soap studs barely giving you any sort of decency of your more personal affairs. Wide eyes framed by dark lashes from the water gaze at him and if Diluc was a lesser man his resolve would have collapsed to bone and dust. He most certainly found you beautiful but here, served in the luxuries of his home Diluc can’t help but find you divine.

“I have brought you clothes, a nightgown, and something for extra warmth,” He said, eyes to the side as he could hear the splashing of the water - you were raising your arms to cover yourself. DIluc swallows around nothing and lowers his gaze to the corner of the bathroom.

“I apologize, I should have knocked.” He utters his voice uncharacteristically soft and he hopes his ears don’t match his hair. You tuck wet strands of hair behind your ear and shake your head even if he can’t see it.

“It’s alright, I don’t mind.” You say, and it is true. He is your lover. These types of things are bound to happen if your relationship is to continue. You eye the clothes in his hands and bite your lip as you confront the reality of the situation.

“Diluc,” You say his name, and something hot runs up his spine. You say his name so softly it is almost like prayer and he can not deny the pleasure of hearing it be sung too sweetly. “Could you help me out of the bath?”

He wonders if this is his last day on this earth. Diluc lets his eyes flicker to you - eyes bright and hopeful as you look up at him with all the adoration in the world. Clearing his throat he can’t help but think he will never be able to deny you anything if you look at him like that.

“Yes, if that is permissible by you.” He agrees and you smile from behind the water, directing him to where you had seen the towel that the maid who most likely planned this happening had set them. The towel was fluffy and white, encompassing his form as you slowly rose from the now tepid bath water - you saw how Diluc scrunched his eyes shut and tilted away his face until you were wrapped in the white fabric. Clearing your throat was the sign to let Diluc lift his head and you were so close you could see the soft pink flush on the tips of his ears. Nothing was said for a moment - the moment was too precious to spoil, Diluc thinks you must be something divinely made and you can’t seem to wrap your head around how safe he makes you feel.

Is this how the jovial city of Mondstat feels knowing such a gentleman guards her walls with the ferocity of The Four Winds?

“Get dressed when you are ready - the nightgown should fit you comfortably. I’ll wait outside to take you to my quarters.” Diluc explains, eyes on the floor to avoid staring at the exposed skin of your collarbones and shoulders. Your knuckles were wrapped in the fluff fabric of the towel - you brought one up to wipe at your lips as you nodded at him. 

“I’ll be quick, promise.” The words are earnestly said, you mean them wholeheartedly and Diluc fights the urge to clutch at his chest when you speak to him in that way. In a manner that is too stiff but it’s all he can do he nods and departs from you only to bring his hand to his face and groan softly into the gloved palm. How cruel is it that you are so unfairly endearing - how is he supposed to be the gentleman he was raised to be when every action you take seems to erode his resolve?

 You are quick to change - giving yourself only a moment to gaze at the ornate nightgown you have done. It was made of a nicer quality fabric than you owned, silken and white it shined in the candlelight and was tied in the front. It was a bit loose around the shoulders and dragged behind you a tat and you can only assume that this was meant for a taller and more mature woman than yourself. After hearing a knock at the door you hurry to dry your hair some more - only for it to still be wet, sticking to your neck. You go to the door and smile when you see Diluc, a flush to his cheeks and an uncharacteristic wide-eyed look on his face when he sees you like this - dressed in a pretty little fabric that does not hide any of the curves of your body the way your uniform armor does. 

“Ah, do I look odd in this? I don’t really own anything of this sort of style - ah that’s not to say I’m not thankful! This is really pretty and it’s so soft on my skin-”

“You look wonderful in it.” Your rambling is cut off by his comment, there is something devoted in his voice that makes you timid. Face flushed from either the heat of the bath or from his praise you chose not to think of it, keeping your eyes on the dark wooden flooring and letting your hair fall into your face. Diluc can’t help but study you, a dangerous game and maybe it suits a man like him who has always invited danger into his life but right now you turn him into half of a beast and have a stumbling kitten. Lust is not a foreign concept to the Master of the House but it is one he had often thought he could without.

How foolish is the young Master? How foolish is Diluc, who ravaged the lands of Snezhnaya because the want in his chest told him to? Lust is passion, hatred is passion - Diluc though stoic and hard of face is still at the mercy of his passion. The heat of his vision pulses in time with the heat at his core; the one that makes his eyes linger on the swell of your chest for too long and it’s the same heat that makes him think of what your form would be like under his hard hands.

 You, who is kind and loving, who loved Diluc when he was a boy barely capable of picking up the claymore at the shy age of 10, and that you love him now who is dressed in pristine whites and smell of cecilias - how could his passion try to keep itself away from you? As you walk next to him, your elbow crossed with his after Diluc had offered you his arm. You are in his private quarters sooner than you had believed and chills break onto your skin as the scent that always clings to his skin is doubled in the presence of the room. Lampgrass and smoke, grapes on the vine and pine - the smog of the scents are pleasurable as the hand he places on the small of your back to press you forward. The door shuts behind you and it does nothing to break you from your spell until you feel the breath of the one behind you, voice deep enough to be commanding; “Go sit down, the table is set.”

It makes you smile when you see the spread - Goulash, Northern Apple Stew, and Moon Pie are the main dishes. You tilt your head as you near the small table and you can see the smaller dishes that you have mentioned to him that you like. Mondstadt Hashbrowns, Satisfying Salad, and even Mint Jelly. Diluc comes up from behind and blushes when he catches your eye instead of focusing on pulling out a chair for you. He gestures to sit and you do, smiling in that all too delicate way you do when you feel spoiled. 

It’s his favorite smile of yours - he hopes he can keep it on your face for as long as he lives.

“Here let me serve you,” He offers and you nod, watching how he passes you a dish of Goulash, a soup known for warming up those who have recently left the mountain of Dragonspine. It would make your tail wag if you had one as he cares for you and fills your plate as soon as it is empty. Dinner is filled with small moments that keep a smile on your face - wiping the sauce on your cheek and even taking your seat in one hand, tugging it closer to his side so your thighs brushed and pressed against one another. It’s almost romantic, here in the safety of the winery dining with him as you both discuss the simplest and most casual of topics that one only shares with their most loved ones.

You mentioned how the cecilia blooms seem to have doubled this season from the heavy rain and Diluc mentions being interested in a board game similar to chess from Inazuma named shogi. You take note to ask the traveler how to purchase a set and Diluc thinks of bringing you a bouquet of cecilias - the flower you love so much. 

Dinner is over sooner than you’d like but your eyes are half-lidded, the exhaustion of your trip to the mountains and the warmth of the meal making you weary. He notices, laughing softly when he takes note of how you sway side to side in your seat. Faster than you can blink you find yourself whisked away until your back is against the plush mattress and a wine-red comforter is tucked to your chin. With lidded eyes, you realize that he isn’t joining you to bed and you say his name in a voice that is just a tad whiney though you will never admit it.

“Where are you going?” You say with something needy in your heart and Diluc who leans over you, red hair cascading like the waterfalls that litter the landscape of Liyue in the few times you’ve crossed through Stone Gate comes to mind. His face hovers over you, you can see the faintest blotches of freckles over the noble bridge of his nose and you see how the cupid’s bow of his top lip is the slightest bit uneven. He doesn’t quite smile, lips only twitching in a soft way that conveys his affection and his hand - he abandoned the gloves for the meal, comes to rest at your brow and his gaze turns soft like a cloud when he brushes your hair away.

“I’ll sleep in a guest room, you can take my bed.” He speaks softly as if his voice grows in volume in any way you would break in his hold. Your own hand goes to his fingers and palm molding into the grooves of his knuckles with your thumb rubbing at the bare skin. Your hands aren’t as soft but they dry and even at the tips of your fingers Diluc can feel their strength. The fire is dying but something is coming to life inside of you - it makes your heart ache as a new type of heat blooms in your stomach that does not come from any soup or hearty meal. The same heat that pours in Diluc’s vision, the same that fuels his passion, and the same that brings you to your knees.

“I’m still cold.” You say but your eyes say what your heart wants -  “Don’t go, stay with me, don’t leave alone, I want you.”

“Oh?” Diluc speaks after a beat of silence, vermillion gaze ablaze with so many questions and you read them all. Your gentleman in red is installed to care for and protect the weak, the vulnerable, and the needy. You know what he wants to say - “Are you sure? When I start I won’t be able to stop.”

You’ve tilted your head, bringing his hand to your lips to press a kiss to the scared, rough palm. Strength pulses through each digit, much like your own and your eyes are like snowfall. All pure and gentle, he finds it hard to refute you; hard to leave you in bed all alone when you look at him with sweet eyes begging him to stay. How could he say no to you? How could he deny you what it is you desire when all this night he has been attending to your every whim?

His lips are on yours and his hand heads south, cradling your jaw in his vast palm he tastes of apple cider and you taste of mint jelly - his mouth turns ravenous as if it didn’t have its fill at the dinner table. Diluc is still not satiated, his tongue warm and silken in your mouth traces the grooves of your teeth and you sigh into his mouth. Your arms wrap around his shoulders, blunt fingers curling into red tresses and you can’t help but tug the slightest bit. He groans softly at the slight sting and he finds himself tugging back the comforter until you are bare to him, your skin breaks into goosebumps at being exposed to the open air again. 

Diluc pulls away for air and spit strings connect you two until they break, the drops dripping from your chin to your neck. The milk light of the moon breaks through the curtains and Dilu can’t help but give into his lesser nature to drink you greedily with his scarlet eyes. Your face is warm, your breath condensing into steam from the difference of temperatures and he can’t help but find it lewd.

“I suppose I will have to stay with you tonight, won’t I? I can’t have you going cold under my care.” His voice is deeper, ravaged by the lust in his veins and you nod letting your fingers curl into his fur-lined jacket. You nod, head spinning from a simple kiss and you return the gesture to his thumb that rests on your swollen lip.

“Take it off - take it all off and join me.” You mutter, voice sluggish and the flame of your lust turns your mind to mush. Diluc can’t help but laugh - utterly breathless and enchanted by you, his hands leave you to push away his jacket and as it falls to the floor you bring your own hands to his face to keep kissing him. You press your lips to him, to his chin and cheeks panting and mewling into the brief space shared between you both as he can’t help but tease you.

“Haven’t I spoiled you enough? Do you still want more?” You whine and shake your head, eyes hazy by your own inability to be suave and smooth when faced with the enormity of your wanting.

“More - please, please give me more M-mast-”

“Diluc. Say my name and my name alone, you’re my lover only.” He cuts off your begging with a tone that leaves no room for argument. You nod to him hastily, whining as he grabs your wrists in his own hands. You are lovely like this, panting and chest heaving. If he had better lighting he wonders if he could see the hearts in your eyes as he lets his hands go back to unbuttoning, unbuckling, and pushing away the clothes on his form. His vest, shirt, and tie have all been removed and his chest is bare to you - the sight of a thick, burly chest covered in a thin layer of red chest hair makes you moan. When morning comes you are sure to be embarrassed, ashamed of your wanton and lewd behavior but that can come in the light of dawn.

You’re fine with acting like a cheap whore rather than the refined knight everyone knows you as if it’s for Diluc and for Diluc alone.

Everything happens so fast it’s hard to keep up with - his hands are under the skirts of your nightgown, broad fingers meeting the sticky lips of your cunt and mewling under him when they run down the seam of the folds. Your slick sticks to his knuckles and he laughs breathlessly and without mirth when he tilts his head to get a good look at how you whine - bringing the back of your hand to cover your face that grows hot with your own desire. It feels like you are melting, the heat of his hands is nothing compared to the heat of his fingers that sneak their way into you. Index and middle fingers curl inside of you as his other hand curls around the one that lays helplessly amidst the plush pillows and blankets of his bed.

“So demure, so lovely - my sweet knight, how pretty you cling to me.” His face does not leave from above you, lips only a breath away as his words like candle wax, hot and cling to your ears. You brush your lips to his panting and hungry as you nod almost mindlessly only to jolt with a moan when you feel his thumb that was not idle begin to swipe at your flushed clit at the rhythm of your heart. Diluc can’t help himself, tilting his head as he ponders the matter of his mind letting his fingers search for what it is he seeks; hounds sniffing for the rabbit in the meadow. You squeal suddenly, your thighs threatening to shut when the blunt tip of his fingers meets the softer, tender spot of nerves on your upper walls. A flame dances in his eyes as he smiles - a cold and victorious as you moan his name again and again as you melt under him.

“I found something, didn’t I?” Diluc is not one to tease but he can’t help but to as your pleasure folds over his hands like syrup. The release of your cunt clings to his fingers like it too, tastes just as sweet. You are open now, wet and darling with the pretty nightgown he gave you rucked up to your stomach and he can see how you twitch for more. The hand that held yours goes to his belt and you mewl from his departure making something smug in him grow three times over. The ever-kind and independent knight you reduced to a spoiled soiled pet, you really are an endearing darling to have his own.

His own, the thought makes him sweeten, pressing a kiss to your pliant and drooling mouth as he frees his cock from the prison that is his trousers. His mouth hovers over your lips and he asks you with his cock pressed between your bodies. It drools onto your thigh as you look down at it, your head swimming as you think about how it will be inside you if you permit.

“Are you warm enough now?” Diluc asks - still playing the game from before and you shake your head reaching down with a blind hand to take the shaft of his cock in your grip.

“No - no I’m still cold, warm me up some more please.” You say and he groans as you squeeze your hand around him with your thumb coming to swipe at its ruddy head. He whispers to you a rugged and breathless “okay” and he slips inside you like you were made for him. Birds have wings, lions have claws and he has you; Diluc not once believed he would ever find completion in his life but now he feels inside of you when you squeeze around the thickness of his length.

Breath-like steam brushes past your face as his hand goes to grip the headboard with a fierceness you’ve only seen from him twice. You are panting, almost going cross-eyed at the stretch, the heat, and the fullness you are feeling. Beads of sweat fall down your back and wads of tears make their way to your eyes and down your cheeks as you begin to hiccup at the first, second, and third thrust he gives you. You moan his name, say it like it's the only word you know - the first one to grace your lips and shape with your tongue. It is what makes lust dance along his spine like lightning, how you squeeze and drip and moan; Diluc is helpless to you, growing more enraptured by your hedonistic beauty with each thrust he gives you.

His grip on the headboard tightens and he feels the wood splinter and smoke, steam rises from his back as he moves faster and faster. It’s almost like you are the metal in his workshop and Diluc the blacksmith; forging you into something new, something whole with the weight of his cock and the blistering heat of his lust. You come without warning - a surprised shout of half his name as you squeeze tight around his cock. The tightness is unexplained and it stops him from thrusting with a sudden washing tide of his own completion. A mix of your own slick and his spent spills from around the walls of your cunt that flutter around his flushed cock as you tremble in the aftershocks of your pleasure.

Dilcu only watches, mouth agape and wide eyes as he takes you in - soaking and sopping, moaning, and whining beneath him. Your cunt leaks, dripping down his balls with the milky white combined release of the two of you and he finds that it isn’t enough. No, he wants more, vermillion eyes drink in the patheticness of your state; the drool that makes your lips shine in the low light and the tremors in your chest. His mind is set in stone, cum still hot inside of you with his cock twitching that the idea of filling you again and again his hips roll back and then forward into you. Gasping, your hands that had hung limp and useless at your side come to clutch at his biceps leaving lines as red as his noble hair - you are helpless in his grasp just like the headboard that smokes from above you.

“Diluc - Diluc wait, too much, too much!” You want to gasp, you want to warn but all you can hear is the wet skin of your ass smacking against his pelvis and his grunts that echo in his room.

“I’m not warm enough, not yet.” You wither and collapse on your back letting go as he pleases moaning when you release in the back of your mind that the ache in your gut each time he fucks both his and your cum back into you. Your head tilts back, empty and so far gone all you can do is hang onto him as you take note of the small specks of melting ice that hangs above the headboard that he grips with all his might.

[sepublic]

I don’t think the time loop devalues Luz not having a natural destiny as established in Witches before Wizards, because there’s no higher power deciding what Luz’s life and presence means for her; There’s no actual God designing Luz as a savior before she’s born, it’s just the laws of physics preventing a paradox. A Puritan delusional about predestination tells Luz that it’s her ‘destiny’ to meet him, but she dismisses this as balderdash, which seems to me a deliberate acknowledgment by the writers.

Luz’s lesson in the second episode was that she wasn’t going to have an empowering good destiny that would give her everything she wanted like she hoped for; Luz would have to take agency to make people like her instead of waiting to be told she’s special. That still happened! Similarly, King wanted to have been special, decided he didn’t care for that, only to be a Titan after all and find misery in the fact.

And the time loop for Luz was one of the worst, most traumatic revelations she’s ever had, it’s a core factor into her suicidal depression, motivates her into almost sacrificing her dream and happiness out of guilt, the exact opposite of justifying it. It’s something Luz has to build herself back up from, in spite of not because. There’s nuance and irony. Because if Luz’s destiny as defined by Belos is to help him hunt witches by bringing him to the Collector, Luz defies this bad destiny by saving the isles instead.

Because Luz decides what her destiny is; Luz decides what she’s here in the isles for, it’s what Eda tells her when explaining that she’s no chosen one, in the same speech where Luz decides to make her fantasy happen instead of waiting for it to be decided by another. She literally made her destiny by starting the time loop with Lilith.

Luz has to be her own kind of witch, she has to once more choose for herself whether to stay or leave even after the loop, when she’s free of it. The Titan is just some dude can’t decide for Luz if she accepts his power and becomes the chosen one she worked to become, she has to choose and keep choosing.

Even the time loop, as Luz chooses to engage with it, goes against what Belos claims she’s meant for; Luz is also choosing to help and uplift a witch that Belos hates, and when the conflict is done, uses her last hours in the past to help Lilith self-actualize. It’s not her cursed fate to destroy everything she touches in both the isles and the human world, Luz has done so much more good, and the good is something she chose to do, something she helped make happen in spite of the bad, with those who accepted her help.

Luz coming across the Portal was fate; Not in the sense that it was all planned out by some higher power. But that it’s coincidence, and it’s something Luz chooses to accept and make use of in her own way, for her own purposes. After fulfilling the time loop and having no more obligations to temporal physics, Luz still chose to go back, saving the isles not just once but a second time.

The ending of Elsewhere and Elsewhen is Lilith the witch reassuring Luz that she doesn’t need to emulate Philip the human to do what he does; Lilith being more correct than she imagined, because that human is the system Luz was trying to avoid following in the first place. She doesn’t need to be like Belos, believing God has a destiny for her, to be special. Belos was wrong, Luz did not arrive to play the role set out for her, she’s the disruptor she’s always been, rebelling against an ancestor of the system.

Because people decide, people assign meaning, people choose, there is no higher power to attribute things towards. It’s just people and coincidence, you determine but not in a Libertarian kind of way because everyone needs opportunities and chances, to be better or to be a witch, these are things that should also be given and they don’t have to pull themselves up by their bootstraps to receive. But they do have to accept.

[bapouro]

working at a badly funded and poorly run homeless hostel for over a year has taught me a lot but reassuringly solified my belief in compassion. we have some real dickheads here who have done terrible things (theyre in the minority) and witnessing that ive still never thought for a second that theyre undeserving of shelter, food, amneties and access to second chances. which is not anything someone should pat themselves on the back for but its really disappointing when some coworkers make comments like they dont.

the real problem seems to be that for our council, and society at large, as long as theyre not on the street and not in sight, thats as far as their issue with it seems to go. they want you off the street, but thats it. theres this insane cognitive dissonance where youre either a 'good' homeless person just in need of a leg up or a 'bad' homeless person who gets cycled around the system with little hope, as long as youre not in public view, as long as youre more or less kept alive. staffing is so important. ive worked two quite different places now but here the morale is so low. the turnaround is so high. support workers here are assigned about 20 clients per person when really you can only support around up to 5 responsibly. the building is full but we perpetually need staff in a place where nobody who genuinely wants to help without burning themselves out to do so will stay (not to mention they make £1 above minumum wage). you cant support people like that, and whats the point when these people feel set up to be put in stasis in this bad system. if you cant/dont work, you get housing benefits to pay the rent. if you do find work, your benefits are gone and all your money will go on the rent. the only ones who can seemingly successfully 'bootstrap' themselves out are the ones finding work in secret so nobody else can manipulate them and their new money, which has to be cash in hand to keep their benefits. youre going to feel stuck, if you feel stuck, you feel hopeless or lash out. lashing out at other people losing hope and staff losing the morale to properly help. we can tick off the boxes of basic rights and say theyve got what they need but beyond that, the support to a real quality of life does not feel like an objective in that system. some people will always be in this system, for whatever reason, they will have to have this proper support. they get treated as helpless and totally in a situation of their own making at the same time. its complex. its sad and infuriating. i wanted to write some of the thoughts ive experienced on it for a while. ive met all kinds of people. i wish there was more i could do but really its on structures a lot more powerful than me that are on the whole indifferent. but i guess thats the thing. i want to stay angry but im afforded that indifference. im lucky i dont have to be too anxious about falling into that system. it can be out of my sight, i dont want to let it out of mind. but for them, they cant have either.

[raplinesmoon]

Après Moi, Le Deluge (JHS x F!Reader)

pairing: Hoseok x afab!reader genres/au/rating: angst, smut, some fluff, mafia au, sort of arranged marriage au, exes au, 18+ summary: It was one night. One night where Hoseok sought refuge from the storm outside, from the life he led, from the past that haunted him. And where else does fate lead him but back into your arms?

word count: 8.2k

warnings: the mafia, mentions minor character death, cursing, smoking, alcohol use, use of weapons, strained relationships with parents, mental health issues, mentions threats against people Hoseok cares about, brief, non-graphic depiction of blood and injuries, breakups, makeups, a cameo by one Xu Minghao, Hoseok and OC are both very closed off and bad at communicating, Hoseok is lowkey an asshole for most of this, happy-ish ending, smut warnings: making out, fingering (fem receiving), nipple play, unprotected sex, marking, teeny bit of cockwarming

a/n: Hello it is me, profusely apologising because there is no reason this should have taken this long to write, other than I had the worst case of writer's block ever, but I missed Hoseok and I needed to see this through. This fic is set in the same universe as Doom Boy, my Namjoon mafia fic! You don't necessarily have to read Doom Boy to read this, but it may help some of the moments mentioned here make sense! The title is a reference to a famous saying by King Louis XV of France, or if you're me, season 1 episode 11 of The Originals. I hope you all enjoy <3

listen to the playlist here!

The rain slams down on the pavement, rendering the soles of Hoseok’s shoes even more sodden than they’d previously been. A cold, sticky feeling settles across his spine, and he heaves for breath, wishing he could just stop and take a break. But he can’t. He has to keep moving. Resisting the urge to shiver and warm himself up, he rounds the corner.

The day had started off normal enough. Hoseok had been assigned patrol duty for the day by Namjoon, a task he was more than familiar with. After the collapse of the Kim empire and his father’s death, Namjoon had returned to clean up the family business. And he was doing a damn good job at it, training the younger ones like Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook in how to run a business.

But there was more to this than a business, and Namjoon knew that well enough. Someone had to be around to air out the dirty laundry, to clean up the streets. And who better for the job than Hoseok? 

He was used to it anyway, more comfortable around knives and guns than he’d ever been around people who weren’t Namjoon, Yoongi, or Seokjin. It was partly the reason he’d been sent out tonight, to monitor the slimy activities that took place under the cover of night. 

Yet sometimes, the downpour got the best of Hoseok. He hadn’t been expecting the Choi cronies to spot him, much less for them to be armed. Luckily they were as thick-skulled as Hoseok expected them to be, and he’d been able to craft a quick escape. For the time being.

But it wouldn’t last for long. Hoseok knew the men would be on his tail all night, and as much as he wanted to call for backup, he didn’t feel like bothering Namjoon, Yoongi, or their families, at this time of night. He wouldn’t have had a problem bothering Seokjin, but that fucker had run the moment he’d shot up Namjoon’s father. 

Looking around, he falters. The buildings around him loom ominously, stretching much taller than he’s used to, the lights from the highest floors creating artificial stars against the cloudy backdrop of the sky. Hoseok gathers that he must be in the swanky part of town. He scoffs, knowing from personal experience the rich were no better than the mobs and gangs they pretended to look down upon, licking at their bootstraps whenever the necessity arose.

Still, he decides it’s better to take cover. He spots the sleeping security guard from outside one of the buildings, and slips in, shaking the raindrops from his hair. Making his way to the elevators at the end of the lobby, his mind ran with plans of how he’d clean up the mess with the Choi men in a way that Namjoon would approve of. 

Which is why he misses the other person entering the elevator at the same time as him, instead collapsing against the railing and letting out a loud sigh, rubbing at his eyes.

“H-Hoseok?” the voice that calls out to him is quiet, barely above a whisper. But its familiarity sends a chill down Hoseok’s spine. It’s a voice he thought he’d never hear again.

His eyes open slowly, and he sees his shocked reflection mirrored in the ones directly across from him, eyes that he’d never been able to forget. The way they look at him now is the same way they’d been the last time he saw you, on a similarly cloudy day.

The eyes of his former fiancée.

The doors of the elevator screech shut, the sound doing nothing to drown out the pounding of your heart. The soft tiny plops of raindrops echo on the grey floor, falling from Hoseok’s hair as he freezes at the sound of your voice.

You suck in a breath, lungs desperately searching for air, unable to squeak out anything beyond his name. Brows furrowing, you check him for any signs of injury, relieved when you find nothing but his blank eyes blinking back at you. You didn’t have to ask him where he’d been tonight. Both of you already knew.

It infuriates you that even after everything, after all this time, he still manages to have this effect on you. You hate how you can’t take your eyes off the lean curve of his neck, or the tiny mole above his heart-shaped smile.

A chill runs down your spine, despite having never stepped foot out in the rain. 

“Why are you…” your throat feels heavy, struggling to get the words out, to ask him why he ended up here of all places. Especially when you made it clear you never wanted to see him again after the last time.

“Choi’s men were tailing me, I had to get them off my back,” he barks, immediately regretting his harsh tone when he looks into your weary eyes, on the verge of tears.

“I’m sorry,” he adds on, more gently this time. “If I’d have known, I would never…”

Never what? Never managed to infiltrate the one place you thought you could be free of him, from the past the two of you shared?

Your shoulders slump against the panel, and you realize you’d never pressed the button to go up, too consumed by his presence. Finally managing to muster up the focus, you turn away, hearing the elevator creak to life.

“You’re always sorry. How can I be sure that this time, you mean it?”

Hoseok is annoyed. First of all, this damn elevator is taking nearly too long to go anywhere, and he longs for escape from this metallic box that’s imprisoning you both. Second of all, your words cut at him, sharper than any knife and hotter than any bullet any of Choi’s men could have sent his way tonight.

As far as he remembers, you’d been the one to end it. You’d been the one to walk away from your arrangement.

He doesn’t know why he grits his teeth, biting down to combat the throbbing pain in his temples. You were supposed to be gone, your goodbye delivered in the same way the designer bags and packages piled up at your doorstep - neat, polished, shallow, the ties that had brought you together unraveling before they’d even had a chance to be joined properly. 

Unfinished business. That’s what you were. And Hoseok hated unfinished business. But somehow, he’d never managed to hate you. You’d never given him a fair chance.

. . .

Hoseok shrugged the wife beater over his head with a grunt, immediately turning around to see if he’d woken up his sleeping companion, but she remained unfazed, her soft snores echoing into the pillow. 

He lets his eyes linger over her body appreciatively one last time before he slips on his leather jacket and is out the door. For a brief moment, his hand twitches, yearning to reach into his pocket and call Namjoon for old times’ sake, detailing every last detail of his lascivious romp. The thought is abandoned immediately, Hoseok’s mood souring at the thought of his former best friend. Namjoon had no trouble leaving all of them behind, so why should he even bother? Instead, he reaches into his other pocket, his frenzied emotions finally calming down when he pulls out the lighter. Ducking under an awning, he checks his surroundings for anything suspicious before affirming that the coast is clear, lighting up and taking a drag. The smoke drifts away on the nighttime breeze, and Hoseok follows, roaming the city streets. 

It’s lonely at this hour, not another soul in sight, but Hoseok prefers it that way. Gone are the days when he and his friends would run through the city, stealing cars and honking horns at everyone for fun. Now, shit had hit the fan big time, and there was no room for fun anymore. With Namjoon gone, Hoseok, along with Seokjin and Yoongi, had been sucked into the tangled web of duties he’d left behind, each stepping up in their own way.

Holding a gun in his hands for the first time had been a sobering experience for Hoseok. It rattled him that if he pressed down on the trigger, so many things could change in a split second. He’d heard the higher-ups in the organization rave with glee about how much fun it was putting the city’s other families in line, Namjoon’s father at the head of them. And for a brief moment, Hoseok understood what it was that Namjoon had run away from. That didn’t mean he wasn’t still pissed off about it though. 

His lips turn up in a smile when he takes in the graffiti on the building in front of him, thinking back to his younger, more rebellious self, before faltering. Someone else was there. 

He wonders if you’re cold, the thin satin gown doing nothing to protect you from the chill, and he wants to laugh at the contrast between his well-worn leather jacket and the jewels dripping from your ears. They must cost a few thousands of dollars, money he’d never had in his pocket. His eyes scan around for someone, anyone – a boyfriend, or a husband maybe. But you’re alone.

Nobility has never been Hoseok’s forte - Namjoon and Seokjin had always been the womanizers, and poor Yoongi had been in love with the same woman for over ten years, but he clears his throat, prompting you to turn around, eyes widening at your company.

If he catches a glimpse of unshed tears in your eyes, he doesn’t say anything. 

“Kids these days, huh? They’ll do anything to cause a little chaos,” he quips, a sinking feeling building up in his chest when you don’t respond.

“Ma’am,” he grapples with whether he should ask for your name, “do you need me to walk you home?”

“Did you read it?” your voice is quieter than he expects, yet he draws closer, wanting to hear more of it. Coming to stand beside you, he takes in the captivating features of your face, made all the more alluring by the shadows cast across them.

Following your gaze, he looks at the mural on the wall. A giant wave, Hosukai-style, crashing into a set of words. “After me, the flood,” your voice whispers, and Hoseok feels a rush of emotion at the way you say it, his mind circling back to everything that had happened in the past few years - the dark cloud that had settled over all their lives with Namjoon leaving, the city’s underbelly coming to life, crawling out of the woodwork. 

“I have to go,” you interrupt him, heels clacking against the pavement, before Hoseok’s gaze turns sharply on you, the desperation in his eyes begging you not to go. Come sunrise, he’d be forced back into the same grim routine, but right now, it felt nice, standing here with you.

“Will you be okay getting home alone?” he asks, grappling for any chance to prolong the moment.

“My driver is around the corner,” you tell him. “Thank you for keeping me company, –”

“Hoseok,” he fills you in, his chest aching with the desire to ask for your own name, but you’re already gone.

. . .

Hoseok wakes up the next morning to the rattling of the blinds, the sunlight causing him to immediately shut his eyes and bite back a groan. There was only one person who’d have access to his apartment at this hour – and exploit it.

“Eomma?” he rasps, burrowing his head further into the sheets. “What are you doing here?”

“Did you forget Hoseok-ah? Hurry up and get dressed, everyone’s waiting! You have five minutes.”

Forget what? His mother’s fussing continues in the background as she leafs through his closet, no doubt trying to find him a suitable outfit amongst the many pairs of ripped denim and oversized shirts he prefers on a day-to-day basis. Hoseok wracks his brain, trying to remember what could have called for such an occasion, but comes up empty, his mother’s stern warning echoing in his ears. 

As per usual, if it had anything to do with the organization, he’d do best not to ignore it.

Slipping on the stark white shirt and tie she’d chosen, the fabric itches against his skin, and he rakes his fingers through his hair, attempting to comb the mess into something somewhat presentable. He’s sure there was little to be done about the bags under his eyes, and the faint smell of tobacco emanating from him, and hoped that whoever these important guests were, they wouldn’t catch onto his late-night activities from the previous day. 

Stumbling into the hallway, Hoseok hears the faint chatter of voices, his father’s bellowing laugh a stark contrast to his mother’s delicate titter, and is immediately confused. Conversations with the bosses of the organization weren’t usually so… enthusiastic. 

When he rounds the corner to his living room, he stops in his tracks. Sitting next to his mother and father is another older couple he doesn’t recognize. They reek of wealth that his family could never even imagine, he notes, the polished Italian leather of the man’s shoes and the older woman’s massive diamond ring speaking for themselves. But he could honestly care less. Because to their left side, sitting on his favorite armchair, is you. The woman from in front of the mural. You’re clad in a simple sundress today, but you still manage to be nothing short of breathtaking against the backdrop of the sun’s rays. 

“There you are, Hoseok!” his father beckons him over jovially, but Hoseok remains frozen. “This is Mr. and Mrs. ____, and their daughter ____.”

Hoseok’s turns his gaze to his father, watching him recoil at the sharpness present in his son’s expression, a thousand unspoken questions lingering on his lips as to why these people were here, what purpose they had in his home, his space.

“We’d like for the two of you to get to know each other,” your mother speaks up with a smile so wide, he’d assume it’d been plastered onto her face. 

“Why?” he finally manages to whistle out in between grit teeth, looking only at you. But you don’t meet his eyes. Instead, your gaze is looking out his window, at the city beyond, the same loneliness from last night ever present in your eyes. 

“Because,” his father continues uncertainly, fidgeting the glass of wine in his hands, “___ is going to be your wife.”

You can feel Hoseok’s eyes glaring into the back of your head as he follows you wordlessly down the hallway. Moments pass before you come to a stop outside your apartment, and you hear the faint stumble of Hoseok’s boots as he stops unexpectedly in his tracks. His warm breath fans against the back of your neck for a brief moment before he straightens with a grunt, and you resist the urge to shiver, despite having never stepped foot into the rain.

The lock clicks, and he follows you inside. You can hear him rustle behind you as he struggles to remove his coat and boots, but you look straight ahead, hoping the darkness can hide how your fingernails are digging into your palm. 

“I won’t stay long,” his low voice breaks the silence. “Just until the storm passes.”

“Please,” you manage to muster up your most polite sounding voice. “Have a seat. I can get you something, maybe some water, o-or a cup of tea…” 

You want to curse your voice for wobbling in his presence, hating the way he still affected you even after all this time apart. Your brain bades you to walk away instinctively, and so you pad into the kitchen, wanting to put distance in between you and Hoseok so he can’t hear the rapid fluttering of your heart. The noise pounds in your ears as you rattle around in the cupboards, cursing when you realized you’d forgotten to turn on the light. It seemed embarrassing to do it now, and so you reach aimlessly, looking for some coffee. 

The pot bubbles, and in mere moments, you’re clutching two steaming mugs, finding your way back onto the living room. Hoseok has settled himself onto your couch, taking extra care not to rest his soaked shirt against the back of it, instead hunched over and dangling an unlit cigarette from his fingertips.

“Sorry, I didn’t know if you’d be okay with me…” he gestures to it, twirling it around in his fingers. “I know you don’t like the smell.”

You’re unsure whether to be touched that he remembers, or uneasy at the way he says it so monotonously, as if you’d still judge him for something so mundane when so much else had happened in between you.

“Here,” you set down the coffee in front of him, taking the seat directly opposite. “It’ll help take the edge off.”

The warm liquid burns your throat as you rush to take a sip, and you nearly sputter trying to keep it down. Over the rim of your cup, Hoseok remains frozen, his own mug steaming and untouched. His dark eyes bore into you, studying your face, and you feel your cheeks begin to burn.

If he notices the bags under your eyes, he says nothing. The same way he says nothing when he probably remarks at your simplistic clothes and lack of jewelry, a far cry from the expensive dresses and diamonds he’d been used to seeing you in. 

“Were you about to go out?” Hoseok asks, and the question catches you off guard. “I’m sorry if I stopped you from going somewhere.”

“Or meeting someone.” The last part is a hushed whisper, mumbled underneath his breath, in the hopes that you wouldn’t catch him. But you had. You wish he’d stop apologizing. It makes you feel guilty when you shouldn’t be, like he’s trying and you’re shutting him out, when in reality it’d been the exact opposite. 

All of a sudden, your phone buzzes to life, a text message lighting up the screen. You freeze when you see who it’s from, quickly snatching your phone and cursing in your head. Minghao was a friend of a friend, the two of you running into each other a number of times over the past couple of weeks, before he’d finally plucked up the courage to ask you for a coffee date.

You’d told him you’d think about it, and now here he was, lighting up your phone to ask you about your decision. Of course, how was he supposed to know that the reason you’d been holding off was the very man sitting in your living room, whom you’d almost married, and still couldn’t seem to let go?

Clutching your phone to your chest, you turn it to silent, setting it down beside you. Hoseok’s eyes are alight with curiosity, his lips turned up in a faint smirk, as though he’s remembering his statement from earlier. 

You take another sip, willing the caffeine to give you some strength, to rein in the bare threads of this conversation back to your control.

“How are your parents?”

Hoseok is taken aback by the question. He hadn’t expected it from you. There had once been a time where you’d been bright eyed and eager, wanting to know everything about him, bombarding him with question after question every time you were together. And yet somehow, he’d never managed to give you the time of day, always giving brusque answers and half-hearted excuses that there were other things that needed his attention.

He knew it was just a poor attempt to fill the silence, but his heart lurches at the thought that there’s so much you don’t know anymore. Namjoon coming back, Seokjin running away, the life that Hoseok knew being turned inside out. What’s more unsettling is the fact that he yearns to tell you, despite knowing he’d lost the privilege to do so.

“They’re okay. Doing well,” he lies through his teeth. “We all are. How about yours?”

He thinks it’s an innocent question, but he watches your fingers blanch as you grip the mug so tight, he thinks it’ll break. 

“I wouldn’t know,” you whisper out softly, and his heart stops. “I haven’t spoken to them since– you know.”

Hoseok feels dizzy at your confession. What do you mean you hadn’t spoken to them? Suddenly, it all begins to make sense in his head. The fact that he hadn’t expected to run into you tonight, because he hadn’t expected you to live alone, with your austere clothes and hair tossed up into a messy bun. It was so different from the woman he’d known, the dazzling one he’d written off as hollow in his mind, the one he was incapable of forming a real relationship with. 

And here you were, living the exact opposite of the cozy life he’d painted for you in his head. He thought you’d be fine, that you’d move on, your family offering you up to the next prospect that came along. And you’d accept them, like you’d accepted Hoseok with all his flaws, not caring that he could barely give you what you deserved.

His thoughts flash back to the last conversation you had, tears streaming down your face as you sobbed.

I can’t live like this anymore.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, and he watches annoyance flash across your face. He knows he’s done nothing but apologize this entire time, but it probably isn’t even worth a damn. No consolation would ever make up for losing someone that meant everything to you. He’d known that when Namjoon had run away.

“Hey,” you set the mug down, leaning over the table. For a brief second, he sees your hand reach out blindly in the darkness, almost as if it’s searching for his, but you withdraw just as quickly. “I’m okay. I really am.”

“I wish you’d stop pretending,” Hoseok blurts out, and he watches you jolt in surprise. “Why do you always have to pretend like everything’s okay, like nothing affects you? Is it the society training? Or do you really just not care about what happened at all?”

You chew the inside of your cheek, mulling over Hoseok’s words in your head.

“The same way you can pull the trigger on someone and be able to lie in your bed and fall asleep,” you seethe, a venom that Hoseok has never heard in your voice. 

“I knew who you were Hoseok. I knew what kind of man I was marrying. You think it didn’t affect me? You think I wasn’t scared out of my wits because of what you did, what other people could do to you?” 

You rise up, palms quivering as you open and close them, strolling over to the window. Hoseok watches your shoulders shake before they slump completely, and he knows that you’re crying.

He’s up before he can stop himself, feet ready to walk out the door. He’d fucked up the moment he’d stayed in the elevator with you, all the ugly feelings between you coming to a head, ones he’d struggled so hard to keep buried. 

But his body betrays him, instead leading him right behind. He pauses until he’s just close enough that if he reaches out, he’d be able to grab your arm and turn you around to face him. But he waits instead.

“I did what I did because I realized I was chasing a ghost,” you huff out, resignation in your tone. “I wanted you to be someone you weren’t. I wanted you to care so badly. But you didn’t. I don’t want any part in whatever you’re caught up in, Hoseok. Whatever has a hold on you so badly that you couldn’t even look beyond your cynicism to give me a chance.”

“I just want to survive.”

Hoseok grips the bathroom sink, knuckles turning white. His cell phone clatters on the counter beside him and he has to keep from heaving. This whole thing was a mess – no one had counted on Namjoon coming back. Even less so on him refusing to take up his father’s mantle. And so the threats continued – the words from the anonymous phone call still ringing in his ear, your name echoing across the line.

While he didn’t know what he felt for you, or whether he could even marry you, Hoseok knew you were an innocent person. You didn’t deserve to be the victim of your parents’ greed, them using you to bury their secrets in the hands of even more powerful people. You deserved gardens full of flowers and meals together every night, not coming home to an empty bed. Or a fiancé who couldn’t spare a moment during the entire night to even dance with you. 

He’s so lost in his brooding that he doesn’t hear the door the click behind him, the soft tapping of heels on the floor coming up behind him. 

“Is something wrong?” you ask him gently, and he feels the bristle of your hand on his jacket. 

So much was wrong. You couldn’t even begin to understand. 

“It’s fine,” he clears his throat, straightening up to adjust his jacket. “I’ll need to leave soon. I can have the car stay behind for you.”

The farther away he got from you, the better. That way no one could hurt you – or him. 

“I can go with you,” your voice echoes from beside him, “I was getting tired anyway.”

Hoseok turns to face you, watching you recoil at the red rimming his eyes, the bags underneath them becoming even more prominent in the dim lighting of the bathroom.

He doesn’t know what possesses him to reach for the single strand of hair that has managed to escape your polished bun, but he watches you suck in a breath, lips parting in surprise.

Before he knows it, your face is drawing in closer, and he can smell the rosé on your breath. Your lips barely ghost against his, and he has to fight every nerve ending not to grab your hand and run away from here, somewhere where he wasn’t Hoseok, and you weren’t ____, and you didn’t need protecting from everything around you – most of all him. 

His paralysis slowly melts away and he’s pushing you away without realizing, the door to the bathroom suddenly materialising in front of him. 

“Like I said,” he doesn’t bother turning around, knowing his heart would twist at whatever expression he found on your face. “I’ll have the car stay behind for you.”

Before you can wrestle with the weight of your confession to Hoseok, a hand is clamping over your mouth. Caught in a silent scream, you turn your eyes to see Hoseok lifting a finger to his lips, willing you to stay quiet. And that’s when you hear them. The voices.

Raucous laughter echoes through the hallway, tinged with malevolent glee. The air around you feels cold, a breeze at the base of your spine, and you instinctively curl into Hoseok.

“Come out, come out,” the disembodied voice cackles from the hallway. “Are you hiding from us, Jung? Found some poor rich girl to use as a body shield?”

Your hand seizes Hoseok’s wrist clamped against your mouth, nails digging into his arm, the fear taking over. Slowly, his wrist lowers, slipping to take your hand in his, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“I won’t let anything happen to you. Do you trust me?” 

He’s so quiet you almost can’t tell he’s said it at all. You nod reluctantly, eyes continuing to dart to the door.

“Go hide underneath the bed. Lock the door. I may or may not come back but please stay inside. Don’t come looking for me.”

His voice is clipped, the faint hint of nerves colouring his tone, but his eyes are filled with a resoluteness you know all too well. You’d spent the better part of over a year staring into them, hoping they’d look back. And now they finally were. 

“Be safe.” Your voice comes out louder than you’d intended, but there’s no anger in Hoseok’s expression. All he does is nod, and then you turn, stumbling down the hallway to your room, never bothering to look back until you hear the door click behind you.

. . .

Hoseok’s heart pounds in his chest, a strange pain settling in his ribs – he never expected to be in this position again. His sense of duty had always been his biggest downfall – and while you were no longer his, he owed it to you to make sure he gave you exactly what you’d asked him for – the chance to survive, to come out on the other side of this. That’s why he had to settle this once and for all.

Choi’s cronies linger at the other end of the hallway, too dumb to notice Hoseok slipping out of your door, reaching for the revolver he’d kept hidden in his coat pocket. A chill settles in his bones as he runs his fingers over the metal.

The brief events of the night play over in his head – the rain pounding against the pavement, the ding of the elevator, the now-cold mug of coffee that sat on your coffee table. And then there was you – your eyes, the softness of your skin, the faint smell of gardenias that lingered on your skin.

And it hits Hoseok that while he was very much alive – he’d been in mourning. Mourning for the friendships he’d never be able to recover, for the youth that had been taken away from him. But most of all, Hoseok’s heart mourns for the relationship he’d never gotten to have with you. The glass walls he’d so carefully put up around himself shatter, making way for a torrential deluge. 

After me, the flood.

He remembers the first night you’d met, how he’d been drawn to you without even trying, the portrait of the wave. He remembers the months that passed afterwards, where you drew closer to him and he drew back. He remembers the regret he’d buried deep in his heart for not kissing you back the night of the gala, not knowing he’d never get another chance.

But most of all, he remembers the somber expression on your face the day you’d ended things, pressing the engagement ring back into his hands, the very same ring that was still sitting in the first drawer of his nightstand. 

Choi’s men finally perk up, noticing Hoseok’s solitary figure lingering at the end of the hallway, smirks twisting on their grotesque faces. A shot rings out, and Hoseok thinks of you now, hiding under your bed. And then he charges.

The alleyway was grim at this time of day, the sunlight barely able to reach beyond the towering skyscrapers, the clouds casting everything in grey. Rain fell softly from the sky. You clutch your coat tighter around you, unable to stop looking at the mural of the wave.

So much had changed since you’d first seen it. And yet it was still the same.

You know Hoseok from the thud of his boots against the pavement, coming up beside you. His head turns, an eyebrow raised in your direction, wondering why you’d asked to meet him here of all places.

You avoid his eyes, fingers clasping around the blue velvet in your pocket. His eyes widen with surprise when he sees the box, confusion marring his handsome face. 

A knot forms in your chest when you watch the confusion turn into alarm as you press the box into his hand, the dazzling diamond no longer on your left finger.

“I don’t understand,” he grunts, breath visible in the cold air.

“We can’t do this anymore, Hoseok. I can’t do this. I can’t live like this.”

“Was it something that I did?” he questions you, desperation creeping into his voice.

You scoff, watching him flinch, pain on his face. 

“No, it’s the opposite. It’s what you haven’t ever been able to do. It’s been an entire year, Hoseok. I’ve watched you answer every phone call that comes your way, disappear into the night to do god knows what, run whenever your friends call. And in that entire time, have you ever thought about us? About the future?”

You take a deep breath.

“I know that neither of us chose this, but Hoseok, we were engaged. Did that mean anything to you?”

He squares his shoulders, fists clenching at his sides, a tick in his jaw.

“You don’t understand. I-I’m not good for you, ___. I dont think I’ll ever be. There’s too much that’s happened, too much I’ve lost. But please don’t walk away like this.

“I thought it’d be enough,” you whisper, and Hoseok freezes. You didn’t know he’d heard you.

“I thought me loving you would be enough for the both of us. But it’s not. I need more. I need someone who I know will come home to me every night. But what I need even more than that, is for you to let me walk away so I can breathe again. So I can be myself.”

Your eyes are just as sad as the first time Hoseok saw them, and all of a sudden, you remark at how stagnant the two of you had been together.

“Hoseok please, I know I can’t ask you to do it if you love me, but if you’ve ever cared about me, even the tiniest bit, let me go.”

You watch him open the box, gazing at the ring. Moments pass by before he slips it into his own pocket, his eyes flitting to the wave as he gives you a small smile, the most genuine one you’d ever seen.

“Goodbye, ____. 

Hoseok’s fist rattles against the door, before he slumps over, heaving for breath. The pain in his side licks at him like the flames of a fire. He hisses when he presses a hand to it, eyes widening when it comes away covered in blood. Those fuckers had managed to get him. Shit.

His eyes are about to close when the door springs open, the wide eyes of Kim Namjoon taking in his battered figure. 

“Hobi, what the fuck?” Namjoon seethes, offering him an arm and pulling him inside. Slinging an arm around Hoseok’s shoulder, the two of them hobble to Namjoon’s kitchen, the burning in Hoseok chest causing him to let out a loud groan.

“Hyun is sleeping,” Namjoon chastises him, and Hoseok bites his tongue, remembering that this Namjoon was dealing with a pregnant wife and a toddler. “You gonna tell me what the hell happened, or do I have to force it out of you?”

“I made a mistake, Namjoon. I went somewhere I shouldn’t have tonight. I fucked up, but I-I didn’t mean to I swear…”

Hoseok feels himself shake as the words pour out, the ruined mission the furthest thing from his mind. He tells Namjoon everything – from being tailed to running into to you, to how he’d left, not knowing whether you were okay or not. 

“That was a dick move,” Namjoon huffs.

“Excuse me?” Hoseok looks up at his best friend, who looks more pissed off than he’s ever seen him. 

“I said what I said. That was a dick move, just leaving her like that.”

“I don’t need a lecture on running away from you, Namjoon-ah.”

Namjoon wipes away the blood on his side, and Hoseok bites his tongue at the sting of the alcohol, before slumping into the chair next to him. 

“You’re an idiot, Jung Hoseok. You’ve been so afraid of letting yourself feel things for so long, and I know it’s because you think that everyone around you is going to leave, or that you’ll lose them. But I’m telling you right now, that’s the stupidest thing you could ever do.”

“You have to let yourself just be, Hobi. Just let go. Enjoy things - life, your friends, your family. Be open to the possibility of love. It’s the only thing that can keep the darkness away.”

Namjoon’s voice shrinks when he says the last line, and Hoseok knows his friend is far off in his own mind, battling the demons that plague him. 

“I think I’m too far gone for that, Namjoon,” Hoseok tells him. “Maybe some of us weren’t meant for happiness. Maybe some of us needed to make sacrifices so others could live the lives they wanted to.”

“That’s a damn lie if I’ve ever heard one, Hoseok.” Namjoon striaghtens, rising up from the chair. “I know you’ve been angry at me for leaving, for keeping you all in the dark. I know how much it hurts to not be able to share your happiest moments with people you love. And I’m sorry for that. But you have a chance to change things.”

“Listen Hobi,” Namjoon crouches down to his level. “I want to be the best man at your wedding – I want to be there for you in all the ways you didn’t get to do for me. This is my way of making amends, but you need to fix whatever this is between you two.”

“What makes you think she’ll even take me back? I was awful to her��� god, she didn’t deserve that Joon. She deserves so much better.”

“Do you love her?” Namjoon asks him, and Hoseok is shocked when he doesn’t even have to pause to think about it. He wants to start over, to be by your side, to have a chance to love you properly this time around. 

“Second chances come when you least expect them, Hobi. Think about what would have happened if you hadn’t stepped out into the rain last night. And don’t let it happen again.”

The knock at the door startles you, your phone clattering to the floor. Swearing under your breath, you pick it up, perusing the message from Minghao once again. He was nothing if not persistent. And Hoseok was never coming back. You’d convinced yourself of that.

It’d been over a week since he’d left you that night - the promise to keep you safe burrowing its way into your heart. And then radio silence. You’d heard the gunshots in the hallway, but when you’d opened the door, no one was there, the only evidence of the showdown being the faint splatters of blood on the wall. When the police had questioned you, you’d left Hoseok’s name out of it – those words echoing in your mind, instilling a false sense of loyalty in you.

Why did you think things would be different this time around? It’d been foolish to assume that Hoseok thought anything more of you. But you couldn’t forget the look in his eyes, the gentle touches, the way he’d promise he would never let anything happen to you, and you fell for him all over again.

Throwing your phone aside, you grumble as you make your way to the door, making a mental note to respond to Minghao later, agreeing to the date.

Swinging it open, you freeze when you see who’s on the other end. Hoseok, looking worse for wear with bruises on his jaw and a nasty cut on his forehead, nervously twirling a tiny bouquet of flowers in his hand.

You’re dumbfounded - unable to speak as you take him in, his dark, inquisitive eyes gazing into your shocked ones. 

“You better let me in, ____,” he says with a grin. “Or the neighbours are gonna think I did something really bad this time.”

Wordlessly, you open the door to allow him to enter, watching as he slips off his coat and shoes, an exact repeat of a week ago. You watch him, trying to open your mouth and say something, ask him anything, but nothing will come out. 

“These are for you,” Hoseok nearly shoves the bouquet in your hands and you watch him rub at the back of his neck, his ears reddening.

“Are you okay Hoseok?” you finally manage to ask him, setting the flowers on your coffee table. Your concern wins out over your confusion once again, but the whole scene is odd – him, smiling in your apartment, the late afternoon sunlight casting half his angular face in a mysterious shadow.

“Just a little nick to my side,” he lifts his shirt up, your eyes widening at the bandages on his abdomen. “But actually, I’m not okay. I haven’t been okay since the day I let you walk away, and I can’t live with it anymore.”

You take a step back, unable to breathe. The space in between you seems to have lessened considerably, and you can make out every delicate detail of his face. Dizzy, you put some distance in between the two of you.

“Everything hurts, ___. It hurts because I look at you and I feel like I can’t breathe anymore, knowing how much pain I put you through. It hurts knowing that you’re so kind, so understanding of someone like me, when I don’t deserve it at all. And what hurts the most is knowing that I love you, and I’ve been lying to myself this entire time because I’m afraid you’ll leave just like everyone else, but I lost you anyway.”

Hoseok’s voice cracks on the last words, and you watch him sway, gripping onto your counter for support.

“I thought it was just me this entire time,” you finally manage to look him in the eyes, tears spilling out of your own. “I thought I was crazy, because ever since you walked out that door a week ago, all I’ve been doing is waiting for you to come back.”

“I’m here,” Hoseok closes the gap between you, arms wrapping around you. You breathe in the faint scent of tobacco on his leather jacket, mixed with the spice of his cologne. “And I’m not leaving. Not this time.”

You grip his lapels, before your arms come up to wrap around his neck, running your fingers through the soft hair at his nape. 

“What if it’s not different this time around?” you whisper into his neck. “What if nothing changes?”

“What if it is?” his low voice rumbles into your hair. “Can you trust me, ___? One more time?”

You take his hand in yours, bringing it to your chest, his lips parting in awe at the fluttering of your heartbeat.

“Only you can do that to me,” you say softly, a smile gracing your lips. 

Before you know it, Hoseok’s lips are crashing against yours, and you can feel him release a euphoric sigh, groaning into your mouth. It’s slow, tentative in the way he waits for your body to respond, never pushing more than you’re comfortable with. Eventually, even the small bit of distance in between you becomes too much to bear. You card your fingers into his hair, pulling slightly at the strands, warmth blossoming in your chest.

It feels too short when he pulls away all too soon, lips tinged with red and eyes dark with something that sends a shiver down your spine.

“I’ve wanted to do that ever since the night of the gala,” he rasps, warmth blooming in your chest at his confession. “You were—, I mean you still are, breathtaking.”

You can feel the rapid beat of his heart, his pulse point right there below your fingertips, and you reach for his hand, watching his entire body soften at your touch. 

“Come with me,” you ask him, eyes turning down the hallway to your bedroom. “We have a lot of lost time to make up for. 

Hoseok tries to ignore the rapid rushing of blood in his ears, his focus narrowing to your head resting on his shoulder, the two of you looking out at the city together for the last little while from your bed. It’s somewhere he never imagined he’d be, but he’d felt the ice around his heart melt the moment he’d finally kissed you for real, warmth filling his veins.

And despite relishing in your presence, it was spiking to a fever pitch. He’d tasted you, and now he couldn’t get enough. All it takes is a brief moment for you to look in his eyes, and he’s pulling you into him once again, mouth hard on yours, unable to resist the desire for more, more, more. 

You whine into his mouth, hands fisting at the edge of his shirt, struggling to pull it over his head. He uses one hand to pin both arms behind you, reaching over with the other to hike your dress up to your stomach, finally peeling it off, and you lie back, eyes alight with desire as you take him in. 

He kisses you again, his lean body hovering over yours, hands roaming everywhere – your arms, up your neck, and on your thighs. He inches higher and higher, fingers ghosting over your core.

“Hoseok please,” you whimper, digging your nails into his shoulder blades. “I can’t wait anymore.”

You part your thighs for him, and he wastes no time, pulling your soaked underwear to the side and dipping his fingers into your arousal. He presses another hard kiss to your lips, catching your moans in his mouth while he works you open, leaving you trembling underneath him.

You whine when his fingers leave you, clenching around nothing, coming up to cup your exposed breasts in both hands while he licks and sucks at your nipples.

“Fuck,” he groans against your chest. “How are you so perfect? How are you even mine?”

His voice breaks, and you mouth at his jaw, mirroring his actions until purple bruises begin to bloom in the spots where your lips previously were.

“I’m yours,” you nip at his bottom lip. “Whether you like it or not.”

“Believe me,” he smirks. “I like it. I like it a lot actually. Let me show you how much.”

With adept skill, he manages to remove your panties in seconds, throwing them to the wall. The clinking sound of his belt drives you mad, and your hands join his, the two of you awkwardly fumbling to remove it.

You feel your mouth go dry when his cock springs free, and he chuckles at the depraved look in your eyes.

“Some other time, love,” he whispers, voice lowering a few octaves. “Right now, I need to feel you.”

You gasp when he pushes in, and he pauses, wondering if it’s too much, but you nod, letting him know it’s okay. He thrusts shallowly, before pushing in all the way, watching you squirm underneath him while rutting your hips.

“Move, please,” you beg him, and he obliges, hiking one leg up over his shoulder to open you up for him, the wet sounds of your pussy accompanying the fluid snap of his hips. His knuckles grip the headboard, turning white while he pins you underneath him, unable to take his eyes off the way your tits bounce with every thrust. His hands grip at your ass, every jerk of his hips an excuse to hold you tighter, until he can see your skin redden underneath his fingers. 

“Oh my god, Hoseok, I can’t–, it’s too much,” you groan, rocking against him in an attempt to quell the sparks underneath your skin, lighting you up like a livewire.

“Come for me,” he grunts, trapping your clit in between his fingers, rubbing tight circles until you snap, seeking his lips once again, your orgasm flooding your entire body like a wave. Hoseok speeds up his thrusts to join you, roaring when he feels himself explode, before slumping against you, chest heaving with the weight of his breaths. 

Moments pass like this, him remaining inside you while he burrows into the crook of your neck, his warm breath fanning your damp skin. Eventually he pulls out of you with a soft whine, brushing away the sweat-soaked strands of hair at your temple, before rising. 

You trap his wrist in your hand, panic settling in. He watches your expression change and immediately stiffens, cradling you against his chest.

“That expression you always talk about, the flood. I-, I looked it up. And I know the life I have isn’t ideal, and maybe things will only get harder, but I promise I will do everything in my power to keep you safe. I don’t want to live out the rest of my life not caring anymore.”

“Do you know what I was thinking of that night, looking at the wave?” you mumble in his ear, and he gazes at you inquisitively, watching the way your skin glows under the moonlight as you take a breath.

“My whole life, people have forced me into this box, this image, of someone they want me to be – the perfect daughter, the perfect wife. It’s been suffocating. All I wanted that night was a taste of freedom - that feeling of happiness you have on a beach, feeling the waves crash at your feet. And then I saw you.”

Hoseok leaves a kiss in your hair, his fingers intertwining with yours. Briefly, his heart drops at the absence of the ring he’d given you on your finger, but he knows when you’re ready, it’ll be waiting for you. He’ll be waiting for you. And the two of you will step into the flood, together. 

a/n pt. 2:  Okay long ending note here. First, please visualize this Hoseok with the undercut ;) Second, I don't normally say this but the writer's block really got me good with this one, so I apologize if it's not up to my usual standards (pls be kind tho). And third and last, this fic definitely would never exist if it weren't for the wonderful Guarded series by Ana (@xjoonchildx). I think about it more than is necessary and this is definitely my tribute to the impeccable Captain Jung.

As always, any comments or feedback are much appreciated, but I appreciate you all anyway. Lots of love, Isi <3

taglist (pls let me know if you want to be removed): @jalexad @secfir @hobi-love @back2bluesidex @temptingempress

[ofbreathandflame-archive]

Re: anti sjm stuff, the funny part is I think even in the anti community, racism rarely gets brought up. it gets a footnote when people ask what's wrong the sjm's work.

Hi anon!

This is interesting! I do think it is commonly talked about within the anti-community and many of the problems that are discussed usually lead back to the racism in the stories. I like your comment about it being mentioned as a footnote when people discuss the problems in her story. That sums up the problems when discussing the racist aspects of her novels. The anti-tag has definitely become more anti-character motivated since the release of A Court of Silver Flames -- but I think that's just a consequence of her own fandom not allowing criticism of work outside of their dedication to their favorite character. I've noticed that because people have talked themselves into a corner defending these characters (and the story has written itself into a corner as well) people have a hard time actually objectively critiquing racist portions of the story.

There's always the broad statement that 'SJM is racist' thrown around -- or that she has 'problematic' storylines but it is only discussed within the framework of undesirable characters (Nesta, Tamlin, Lucien, Beron, Illyrians). The Illyrian plotline is objectively a racist one; there is no scenario where a permanent second class of brown men and women is justifiable but it is. Introspection into that storyline will always negatively affect the characters in the world of the story, but a lot of people will pivot the conversation to an 'anti-feysand' rhetoric instead of a racial one. Aelin being unwilling to help end slavery until her black friend has to orchestrate her own death is both a racial and character problem, but the idea is that these storylines negatively affect her character. People want desperately to separate the racism in the story from the characters when we just...can't. And then people become irritable with the critiques -- even subtly so -- and they develop an aversion to them. The 'Illyrian' problem becomes an only anti-Rhys problem and so they feel comfortable ignoring, justifying, and bashing us for talking about it.

Or they assign these critiques under a 'pro tamlin/pro nesta' category and do the same thing; instead of engaging with the issue at hand we get pages of anti-tamlin, nesta rhetoric. We talk about the Illyrian issue? I'll see a post about how Tamlin is a pig, he should die, and then they feel better about themselves. Or we'll see a post about if we critique Feyre -- then Nesta is worse! She's XYZ and how dare critique Rhys when Nesta is right there.

When the reality is: SJM could kill Tamlin off Kill Nesta off, have them grovel or whatever they imagine they want SJM to do, and it wouldn't really change the racial problems at hand.

The Illyrian problem, the Human problem in CC, the Slavery problem in ToG have facilitated an environment where people feel comfortable defending things akin to 'separate but equal laws,' 'pull yourself up by your bootstraps', 'and justifiable segregation conditions. And I don't have to look far to see it. And if we were all mature -- we could talk about these characters without regurgitating that type of dogma -- but alas we can't because its baked into the story.

A secret city built on the blood of brown men and women who live in tents and give their sons to society they will never get the chance to participate in is a very crazy thing to justify. As is arguing that a group of people WOULD WILLINGLY choose to stay trapped under a mountain. It's not a choice because these people do not have a choice to go to Velaris. It's worse when we consider that Velaris DOES NOT HAVE A STANDING ARMY. It primarily relies on the Illyrians and the Darkbringers. And the story tells us these things bc these are intentional choices.

Critiquing this makes us anti feyre and therefore instead of heading these critiques, people JUMP TO JUSTIFY THEM. There are a lot of reasons why employing a barely literate white teenager in the top office over the 'brown savages' is a bit wild. But introspection into that plotline = anti feyre. And then instead of introspection, we get people justifying the plot point. And that's what's dangerous about sidelining the racism conversations in her work. It's also the problem with rabid shipping culture. It's not being able to recognize the problems in the story outside of characters you love and then justifying harmful ideologies bc you can't separate the critiques from your love a character.

[sinuswar]

CLASSPECTING 101: INTRO TO RPG CLASSES

Back in the beginnings of the RPG genre, before game cartridges had the storage space for "dialogue" or "characters" or "personality," games were written entirely in shorthand. Characters were unnamed units whose entire identity revolved around their particular moveset.

This was referred to as their job or their class.

(Early Final Fantasy leaned into this especially hard, as playable characters had no names or unique designs. Their only differentiating factor was their Class.)

For a while, this worked.

RPGs on the (S)NES didn't have the storage space to write actual personalities for each of the party members, so when introducing a character, they simply say: "You are a hero. You must save the world from giant evil shadow skull. This is your class. Have fun!" Classes were designed to abstract/imply the illusion of character.

This is because writing characters (even when you aren't confined to a 1MB cartridge) usually comes down to what a character can/would do, and what a character can't/won't do. Characters are actions.

We call characters that fight monsters and save the day "good guys," and characters who burn down villages and slaughter innocents "bad guys." Characters are choices. Choices are actions.

A character that fights monsters using their giant sword feels different from a character that fights monsters by shooting fireballs. Characters are methods. Methods are actions.

Classes abstract all of these above character components by saying "every character of this type can do these things."

All Warriors are very buff, but lack magic. All Mages have magic, but are pretty scrawny. A White Mage uses magic to heal, whereas a Black Mage uses magic to harm!

The above list isn't what we'd currently consider "personalities," it's just a list of actions that characters can choose from, but it tricks the player into imagining personalities instead. They hand you a list of actions, and ask you to create a character that would do them.

If characters are actions, then Classes are "pre-built characters."

(The player characters never speak. They quite literally have no personality. Their only method of communication/individuality is their specific list of spells/skills.)

So, why does this matter?

Homestuck, at its core, is an RPG pastiche. A deconstruction of themes inherent to the genre. Analyzing RPGs can help us analyze Homestuck.

Classpecting is one of the more obvious examples of deconstruction, as Sburb Classes are very clearly derived from genre classics (Dungeons & Dragons, Final Fantasy, etc.), all recontextualized to ask the hard hitting questions:

"Isn't it kinda fucked up to be assigned a generic label that describes all the actions you've ever done/will ever do?"

Yeah, kinda! It speaks to a larger "dehumanizing" effect that Sburb tends to have on players, abstracting them into units with certain roles, functions, and responsibilities.

Wouldn't it suck to be a character in one of these RPGs, with a whole backstory, personality, and rich inner world, all to have a "higher power" reduce you down into what you can do (moveset), how good you are at it (stats), and what they'll use you for (player strategy)?

This is one of the main pillars of Homestuck: Being a video game character is an inherently degrading experience.

"Does 'what you're good at' decide your Class, or does your Class decide what you're good at?"

Homestuck is a mess of bootstrap paradoxes, so you can argue this either way and probably be right. The answer is probably a constantly looping "both."

But, now that I'm thinking about it, I personally lean toward "Class decides what you're good at."

If Skaia decides what your Class is at "inception," then it could be argued that you excel at certain things to help prepare you for the role you were (literally) designed for. Your hobbies and interests are off-screen coaching for your on-screen role.

To bring it back to RPGs, think of the (oftentimes generic) backstory you pick for a TTRPG character to justify them having the skills Talk To Animals and Explode Undead. You create what they did before the game as justification for actions they can do during the game.

Except Sburb does this on a cosmic scale, crafting your entire life up until the game to prepare you for playing it. Sucks! More on this in a future post.

"Are all characters of the same Class the same guy? Or at least the same type of guy?"

In early RPGs? Yes!

In a quite literal sense, all characters of the same class were essentially the same exact "person." Same design, same role, same methods. With no dialogue or personality to differentiate them, if you made a party of four White Mages, they'd essentially all be clones!

(This isn't entirely true, though. More on that at the bottom.)

In Homestuck? No!

This is partially because Classes are only half of Classpects, a more complex idea where your RPG Class is paired up with a "metaphysical element" known as an Aspect. With 12 Aspects, that means there's 12 versions of every Class.

Basically, you can have two Knights in the same party, but they can still be incredibly different (albeit similar!) units under this system.

(Dave and Karkat, on top of being a Certified Premium Yaoi Stock™, are a great case study for the similarities/differences between same Classes of differing Aspects.)

Yet, even if we ask this question again with Classpects instead of Class, the answer remains the same: you can have two characters with the same exact Classpect, and they'll still be noticeably different people.

How the hell does that work? Well, for starters, Homestuck is a story that does actually have character writing.

You can have two characters that perform similar actions (ex: Dirk and Equius are designed to have very similar traits, interests, and habits, even down to exact actions) and their Classpects will still be completely different (Prince of Heart vs. Heir of Void).

Likewise, you can have characters of the same exact Classpect (and identity!) perform incredibly different actions.

(Calliope and Alternate Calliope (CAL and AL, for short) are one of the best examples of completely different characters with the same Classpect. And they're even the same character, technically!)

This is where the crux of Classpecting as an artform is. Mechanically, if heavily differing characters can be the same "thing," and very similar characters can be different "things," then what is it that Classes and Aspects decide?

We're going way overtime, so I'll answer a question by rewording an earlier question:

"You have a Pokémon team made up of, let's say, six Dunsparce. Are all these Dunsparce the same exact thing? What could be different between them? What would always be the same?"

If you read this far: Sorry! Didn't mean to get this carried away! Thanks, though. Marrying two topics I care a lot about (game design and Homestuck) is a pretty good way to pass the time, it turns out.

If you think you know the answer to the above question, feel free to chime in. I'll give my two cents whenever I follow up on this topic.

[theblogofdavyjones]

Your pain is mine

Pairing: Davy Jones x reader

Warnings: None

Requested by: @royisrandom

Request: Okie dokie I have a request. :) So the idea is that the reader overworks herself and gets injured pretty badly and Davy Jones helps patch her up after noticing signs of her being injured. It's nothing too special, but if you could do this that would be awesome. :3

***

When it comes to working hard, you try to keep it at a steady pace, keeping it maintained so you don’t over do it to the point of collapsing from exhaustion.

But when it comes to pleasing your captain of showing the way you’re capable of using your hands like no one else could, when others couldn’t, there was no taking breaks. Breaks don’t come until the job is done and done well in the captain’s approval before he dismisses you to get some rest. However, when it comes to Davy Jones, you don’t let yourself rest and as a result to that, you have overworked yourself as you shouldn’t have.

By now, you were to the point of collapsing from exhaustion, your body was screaming to give out on you but with you wanting to prove your strengths and capabilities to Jones, you fought back and kept scrubbing against it. One day while on the job, the task at the time was to make sure the ropes were secure and when you were to be assigned of this task, you would always have on you the same kind of gloves you would use if you were to be mountain climbing while being tethered by ropes for safety, in case you slip the ropes would catch your fall. As luck would have it, you were in a rush, wanting to get your job done right and we’ll do that Davy Jones has reason to keep you onboard the Flying Dutchman. To make things more complicated for you, Mother Nature was taking over the weather, brewing a terrible wind the soon turned into a deadly rainstorm, which produced dangerously high waves at least thirty feet.

You were in the midst of helping Bootstrap Bill, whom you considered to be a friend more than a crew mate, to keep ropes secure and you were using your bare hands. When you had first come about the Dutchman, Davy Jones had spared you, making you to be the only living being onboard. The unforgiving storm got worse with each passing minute and you were surprised that the ship hadn’t been hit by a wave until one finally did. As the giant wave had crashed against the Dutchman, it caused everyone to fall back. But it did more damage to you than anyone else; as your hands were violently ripped away from the rope you were holding onto, it left you with painful rope burns that seemed to have now implanted on both your hands. The first thought coming to mind was of how you wouldn’t be able to use your hands properly until they fully heal, but you were going to use them for more work and to be proven you were in fact, a strong person.

You were going to continue to be strong and willing to make some sacrifices if needs be. Since Davy Jones seemed to be playing the organ most of the time, you thought hiding the inflicted injury from him would be easy enough for you to do.,

However, you were wrong.

When Davy Jones had appeared to see what the commotion was about, between Bootstrap Bill and his human son, Will Turner, Davy noticed you hiding your hands in either your pockets or behind yours back. Davy didn’t think much of it at first, but as the days followed, he watched you more closely as the way your hands seemed to be almost unbearable to use for work. It was clear to Jones than that something obviously wasn’t right, that your hands were in some kind of pain.

Instead of confronting you in front of the whole crew, he orders for Bootstrap Bill to tell you that he requested your presence, you were a bit startled and anxious, thinking that you might have done something wrong and you were done for. Standing before the captain’s door, you hesitantly raise your fist and knock softly on the wooden door. Instead of Davy getting up to answer the door himself, he called for you to enter.

“Yes, captain? You wanted me” you ask a bit timidly, Davy starting to approach you.

“Let me see your hands.”

Before he even made the order, you held your hands behind your back as an attempt to keep them hidden and out of sight.

It didn’t workout. So when you refused to give him your hands, Davy, not with his crab claw, but with his more human hand, reached your arms, revealing your injured hands.

“What happened?”

“I was holding onto the ropes, trying to keep them secure during that bad rainstorm and when we got hit by that wave, my hands slipped away rather harshly.” You shyly admit.

Davy sighs before turning away for a bottle of rum, taking your hands once again before pouring the rum upon the injuries. You hissed know pain as the alcohol killed the bacteria and whatever other germs that could be lurking about long with it. Once passed that, Davy helped you bandage both hands while making a suggestion that was unlike himself.

“Maybe you should take the rest of the night and I’ll have someone to fill in your space.”

It was almost daring to refuse this idea, but you did just that, telling him that you would be fine to go back to continue amongst other things.

“With all due respect captain, but I can continue to handle myself and my work. I ask for you to believe me when I say that I’ve had much worse than rope burns. They’re almost nothing to me, if anything they’re minor injuries.”

Davy looked back at you with admiration, before nodding in agreement.

As you begin making your way back to work, Davy follows behind and finds Bootstrap Bill waiting outside for you. Davy than takes the chance to whisper an order to keep a close eye on you.

Of course, he had no choice but to obey the captain’s orders.

***

@theblogofdavyjones

Requests: Open

Tags: @princessofthornsandroses @justafairytailofinnocence @always-on-hiatus @friendlynova @marsswann @mypookiebeardavyjones

[kuu-stuff]

Working with teens/young adult who lived with horrible parent, I noticed how little anyone do for them, whatever it's the people working at those places that let them come in after school to socialize, their assigned therapists, any adult around them who knows about their lives and it always makes me so angry, I could never work in a place like this again. And it always boil down to "If we take them away from their parents they will have to grow all alone with no attachement, so maybe a little bit of abuse if okay". And I understand the sentiment but I can't help but think that it would be better growing up all alone in the world and have to fight for oneself, than to live with people who are supposed to love and protect you but who hate you and hurt you constantly. What kind of person do you think that kid will become ? Alone they will have a better chance at loving themselves and doing what is in their best interest, even if they do feel like they don't belong to this world and that nobody cares if they succeed or not. I never experienced the kind of violence some of those kids go through, but living with a single mother, removed from any other family member, always hearing how she want to kill me every time she's angry, her beating me, throwing me outside, telling me she doesn't want me or that my birth was a punishment, that she's ashamed that other parents would see that I'm her daughter, that she'd let her future husband be sadistic to me, making me eat in dog bowls and whatever, all while being so soft and nice to my siblings... It fucked me up bad. And she was a cool and nice mom a lot too ! She cooked well, we'd talk about interesting stuff, she'd watch shows and movies with me, get me nice clothes and pay for classes and all... But I'm 30 now and literally can't be normal to save myself. Because if your parents feel that way about you, certainly everyone else do too, and no matter how much you repeat to yourself that it's not true and that it's all in my head and that it was never my fault, you just can't trust anyone and you're freaked out no matter if you talk to strangers or your own friends. Because it feels beyond people not caring about me, it feels like I hurt people by existing and it's something very hard to fight. And of course as an adult, other adults can't relate, can't understand why you act and feel the way you do, and I think that's a part of the problem. They see kids who survived abuse and they think, well they had way more chances in life than the kids who had no family so they should just shut up and pull themselves up by their bootstraps, and then keep closing their eyes on cases that are "not that bad". But as adults, people who survived abuse know that nobody will save them now when nobody saved them back as kids. They live hiding themselves and their feelings, always relativising their situation because some kids had it worse. I'm just tired of people feeling like kids belong to their parents, that "some parents have it hard so sadly it can't be helped". Those kids will never grow up being normal adults. They will never feel like they deserve anything and they will never feel like they will be ever cared for. I have a friendly relationship with my mother now, I don't even hate her ex who tormented me as well, and I get it that it's nice to have a family you can count on if you're in a very bad situation. But I AM not normal. And now I don't think that I will ever be. Maybe I have someone to save me from the streets, sure , but I wouldn't let myself down so hard to be afraid to end up in the streets if I wasn't told that I'm a disgusting and vile burden most of my life in the first place. You just don't understand the impact it has on people's brain. If I had even just one person who'd be concerned and who could talk to me about those things growing up, explaining that I'm okay and that none of this was my fault, maybe it would have been different. I to this day remember a teacher who called my parents cruel back when I was 9 and it makes me feel like at least someone cared.

[general-sleepy]

Assigning Saw Traps to Dracula Characters:

Because this is how my mind works. Also, I previously mentioned I was playing with this and @animate-mush encouraged my bad behavior. (With brief summaries of the traps if you're not as disastrously obsessed with the Saw series as I am.

Seward: I can honestly really see Jack in Lawrence's place in the Bathroom Trap (the main setup of the first movie, you wake up in a room with a stranger and you have to murder them or several of your loved ones will be killed; also in order to murder them you have to cut off your foot). Both of them are physicians who are emotionally disconnected and generally don't appreciate their lives. Honestly, though, I don't think the self-amputation aspect of the trap would be that huge of a deal for Jack. He might think it's kind of morbidly interesting.

Jonathan: I wasn't sure about this at first, but I decided Jonathan could take Adam's role in the Bathroom Trap. Adam is being punished for being passive, which is also a trait of Jonathan at the beginning of the novel; though due to politeness and a desire to please, rather than Adam's internalized homophobia unspecified mental illness. So, they have to suffer the wages of their own passivity, being helpless to another (implicitly more important) person's whims. Honestly, I can see John Kramer looking at Jonathan and getting big "pawn in someone else's game" energy. (Note that this applies to Jonathan pre-novel; post-novel, John would be very sore about Jon's willingness to die for/with Mina, because loving someone so much you couldn't live without them is pretty cringe tbh).

Arthur: Jigsaw would honestly struggle to find a reason to throw Art into a murder game. Maybe if he didn't process the grief of losing nearly everyone he loves in a few months in exactly the way John Kramer approved of. He'd probably get stuck in one of the more basic ones. Maybe the Venus Fly Trap (there's like a mini iron maiden around your neck and you have to cut out your eye to get the key surgically implanted behind it to get out of it). Arthur's a tough guy, though; honestly, I think he could get through it.

Quincey: Maybe Rigg's game (being faced with a variety of people in Saw traps and being encouraged not to help them, because either they deserve to die or they can only recover by "helping" themselves). We know that Quincey is self-sacrificing and willing to put his neck out to help near-strangers because for some reason he believes concern for others is a valuable reason to risk your own life. However, I imagine that Quincey would help rescue a victim of domestic violence, instead of deciding that she won't learn anything unless she pulls herself up by her bootstraps and helps herself (by killing her husband and suffering horrible pain, because DV victims are just complacent).

Lucy: Lucy and William Easton don't have a lot in common, but I realized his trap would fit for her. William's trap is super complicated, but mostly he has to go through a variety of situations where he decides who lives and who dies. Like, having to decide whether to kill a healthy young orphan with no friends or family and a chronically ill wife and mother, both of whom have done literally nothing wrong. Or having to decide which two of five people to save from being shot in the chest with a shotgun. This is the worst thing that could happen to Lucy, a boundlessly loving people-pleaser. That might be why he puts her in a trap, to encourage her to stand up for herself or something.

Mina: My immediate instinct was the Angel Trap (you're hooked up to this rig that is going to rip your ribs open unless you can fish the key out of a bottle of acid before it melts), mostly because of her and Kerry giving me kind of similar vibes. Kerry, a cop, is put in the trap because she's apparently obsessed with death more than the living, though really it seems like she's just too close to catching Jigsaw. Mina is fascinated by ghost stories and reads about criminology. She's, in a way, suicidal, and John Kramer absolutely cannot stand that. John would say that becoming a vampire is still close enough to living that you should still appreciate it.

Van Helsing: I was struggling to figure this out until I saw Saw X. Van Helsing is obsessed with brains and intellect and feels himself to be intellectually superior, so I think the brain surgery trap (you have to cut out a certain amount of your own brain tissue or your head gets roasted in a kind of mini-brazen bull) would fit. Maybe the instructions/insult tape would be something like, "You think you know what's going on in my brain, let's see if you know what's going on in yours." Something dumb like that.

[titsoutfornature]

so, what really defines an addiction? obsession? chemical dependence?

wouldn't ppl obsessed with health be addicts then? those very same ppl are going around saying coffee, video games, sex & porn, etc are vectors for addiction.

so what's the difference? if you feel good after doing yoga or exercise, are you an addict chasing feel-good chemicals?

if you have digestive problems after eating a donut for the first time in ages, would that mean your body is addicted to your current dietary habits?

what's the difference between someone that takes ecstasy to deal with depression, and someone who takes SSRI's? the latter person having a "valid" and clinically-confirmed need for it?

it's not a coincidence that most things recognized as addiction align with Puritanical ideas of sin. to chase pleasure from substances and sex, to relieve yourself of suffering.

it's neither a coincidence that ppl are assigned addicts from "healthy" people, that they are coerced or forced into normative behaviors, legally banned or hidden from public spaces (under the influence), that their treatment under the disease-model matches the treatment of disabled (INCLUDING mentally ill) ppl.

ppl are "ruined" by addiction in the same way they are ruined by poverty, the shame and ostracization and unsolicited health advice akin to the treatment of fat ppl. and society what, expects every addict to pick themselves up by their bootstraps? "if you don't conform, you deserve to suffer and die"? where have i heard that before?

and YES i know that some ppl want to abstain for personal reasons but CANT bc drugs are the only helpful coping mechanism they have. but why are we individualizing their pain? why aren't they (financially and emotionally) supported unconditionally by a community that loves them?

[makemywebsite1]

Web Design in Melbourne: Guide to Build an Educational Website

Designing an educational website for a resource portal, a school, university, or an online learning platform requires strong knowledge. If your brain jumps from left to right thinking about quality designs, you can safely believe that there are many other administrators who are on the same page.

Every educational institute or online learning platform is unique in what they bring to the learners. Whether it is more comprehensive resources, personalized attention, or guaranteed results, you would surely want to understand the web design goals that make a learning experience easy and engaging. But how to achieve them all?

In this blog, we will explore 5 essential web design features that you must consider in a professional web design in Melbourne for a functional educational website.

5 Must-Have Web Design Features for an Educational Website

Here are five most crucial web design qualities and features that make an educational portal, institution, or, an e-learning platform engaging.

1. User-Friendly Menus

When planning a website menu layout with a website designer, focus on creating simple and easy to find menus. Focus on keeping only the main links like Courses, Admissions, About Us, Gallery, or Contact Us page. When choosing a layout, hamburger-style menus and sticky navigation bars can make them easily appear on smaller screens.

User experience is the crucial factor. It is important to choose one of the best professionals for web design in Melbourne who ensure that the website menu colors, fonts, alignment, and style helps users to find the information.

2. Responsive Design for Mobiles and Tablets

Teachers and students use their tablets or mobile devices to browse educational websites or e-learning platforms. If they find it difficult to read the content on your website or explore the website without zooming in, they will move on.

For this reason, it is crucial to use responsive frameworks when designing a website. Commonly used web design frameworks like Bootstrap and Foundation allow a website to automatically adjust to the smaller screens. These feature one-column grids, in-built sliders, buttons, forms, and carousels, and media queries that perform well on different devices.

If you are not aware of the technicalities, it is good to consider a professional for SEO in Geelong for high-performing frameworks.

3. Integrate Multiple Media

Next, multimedia tools are another effective and popular way to make education fun and engaging for both educators and learners. As long as your students and educators get access to different audio and visual learning modules, your website performs well.

Video lectures, podcasts, quizzes, or other interactive forums are highly becoming resourceful additions on an educational website. Keeping aside the traditional listen-only concepts, these tools allow learners to interact through quizzes, ask questions, use clickable annotations, or jump to specific sections on podcasts.

You can even include downloadable PDFs and worksheets, or reading lists to let users learn the study materials at their own pace. Remember, integrating media can reduce website speed, so an SEO expert in Geelong is helpful in optimizing the speed.

4. Use Learning Management Platform Within the Website

An educational website must have a highly-organized and user-centric learning management tool. It allows learners to find the different study materials, submit assignments, and view grades at one place. And it also enables teachers and providers to track student progress, answer their questions, and interact about upcoming events.

While choosing a Learning Management System (LMS), keep in mind the existing website structure. A sign of a good LMS platform is its easy integration, drag-and-drop dashboard, customization features, and technical support features. Web design companies also help you to choose the best platform that stands true and right to these qualities.

5. Secure Registration and Enrollments

Lastly, safe and easy-to-use registration and enrollment forms complete an educational website. If you are just starting, handle this task to an expert SEO in Geelong.

If you are creating a website for school or colleges, structure the registration form with essential and autofill options. Clear instructions and examples in the input fields can make a big difference. Including error validation and progress indicators will allow learners to correct their mistakes and know how far they have come.

In addition, if you are creating an online learning platform, using secure payment gateways with confirmation messages makes the site safe.

Final Words

We hope you found this blog useful. Designing an educational web design in Melbourne or Geelong takes time as you are considering user experience, user interface, and website security as a goal to fulfill both learners and educators needs.

Whether you are a chancellor, president, or an e-learning educator designing a website, it is wise to invest in a professional company. They have a team of best website designers in both locations to plan, guide, and initiate the best process.

[marctech]

Web Design Training Online | Marctech Academy

Looking for professional Web Design Training Online Marctech Academy offers an industry-focused course designed to help you master the skills needed to create visually stunning and user-friendly websites. Whether you are a beginner aspiring to enter the design field or a professional looking to refine your expertise, our comprehensive training program is tailored to meet your goals.Our Web Design Training Online covers the fundamentals of design, including HTML, CSS, and JavaScript, alongside advanced concepts like responsive design, UI/UX principles, and accessibility standards. Additionally, you’ll learn to work with popular tools such as Adobe XD, Figma, and Photoshop to bring your creative ideas to life. The course also delves into frameworks like Bootstrap and explores techniques for optimizing websites for mobile and desktop users.

At Marctech Academy, we emphasize practical learning. Through real-world projects and assignments, you’ll gain hands-on experience in designing functional, professional-grade websites. This project-based approach ensures that by the end of the course, you’ll have a robust portfolio that showcases your skills to potential employers or clients.What makes Marctech Academy stand out is the personalized mentorship provided by experienced instructors. Our flexible online classes allow you to learn at your own pace, making it convenient for students, professionals, and freelancers alike.Upon successful completion, you’ll receive a certification that strengthens your resume and enhances your career opportunities. Whether you’re aiming to start a career in web design, work as a freelancer, or launch your own projects, Marctech Academy Web Design Training Online equips you with the skills to succeed.

[raplinesmoon]

Après Moi, Le Deluge (JHS x F!Reader) - Teaser

pairing: Hoseok x reader genres/au/rating: angst, smut, some fluff, mafia au, sort of arranged marriage au, exes au, 18+ summary: It was one night. One night where Hoseok sought refuge from the storm outside, from the life he led, from the past that haunted him. And where else does fate lead him but back into your arms?

warnings (to be updated with full fic): the mafia, mentions minor character death, mentions of weapons, cursing

word count: 592 for the teaser

a/n: what happens when you miss Hoseok? This. This is what happens. This fic is set in the same universe as Doom Boy, my Namjoon mafia fic! You don't necessarily have to read Doom Boy to read this, but it may help some of the moments mentioned here make sense! The title is a reference to a famous saying by King Louis XV of France, or if you're me, season 1 episode 11 of The Originals. I can't wait to finish the full fic (hopefully sometime soon)!

The rain slams down on the pavement, rendering the soles of Hoseok’s shoes even more sodden than they’d previously been. A cold, sticky feeling settles across his spine, and he heaves for breath, wishing he could just stop and take a break. But he can’t. He has to keep moving. Resisting the urge to shiver and warm himself up, he rounds the corner.

The day had started off normal enough. Hoseok had been assigned patrol duty for the day by Namjoon, a task he was more than familiar with. After the collapse of the Kim empire and his father’s death, Namjoon had returned to clean up the family business. And he was doing a damn good job at it, training the younger ones like Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook in how to run a business.

But there was more to this than a business, and Namjoon knew that well enough. Someone had to be around to air out the dirty laundry, to clean up the streets. And who better for the job than Hoseok? 

He was used to it anyway, more comfortable around knives and guns than he’d ever been around people that weren’t Namjoon, Yoongi, or Seokjin. It was partly the reason he’d been sent out tonight, to monitor the slimy activities that took place under the cover of night. 

Yet sometimes, the downpour got the best of Hoseok. He hadn’t been expecting the Choi cronies to spot him, much less for them to be armed. Luckily they were as thick-skulled as Hoseok expected them to be, and he’d been able to craft a quick escape. For the time-being.

But it wouldn’t last for long. Hoseok knew the men would be on his tail all night, and as much as he wanted to call for backup, he didn’t feel like bothering Namjoon or Yoongi, or either of their families, at this time of night. He wouldn’t have had a problem bothering Seokjin, but that fucker had run the moment he’d shot up Namjoon’s father. 

Looking around, he falters. The buildings around him loom ominously, stretching much taller than he’s used to, the lights from the highest floors creating artificial stars against the cloudy backdrop of the sky. Hoseok gathers that he must be in the swanky part of town. He scoffs, knowing from personal experience the rich were no better than the mobs and gangs they pretended to look down upon, licking at their bootstraps whenever the necessity arose.

Still, he decides it’s better to take cover. He spots the sleeping security guard from outside one of the buildings, and slips in, shaking the raindrops from his hair. Making his way to the elevators at the end of the lobby, his mind runs with plans of how he’d clean up the mess with the Choi men in a way that Namjoon would approve of. 

Which is why he misses the other person entering the elevator at the same time as him, instead collapsing against the railing and letting out a loud sigh, rubbing at his eyes.

“H-Hoseok?” the voice that calls out to him is quiet, barely above a whisper. But its familiarity sends a chill down Hoseok’s spine. It’s a voice he thought he’d never hear again.

His eyes open slowly, and he sees his shocked reflection mirrored in the ones directly across of him, eyes that he’d never been able to forget. The way they look at him now is the same way they’d been the last time he saw you, on a similarly cloudy day.

The eyes of his former fiancée.

a/n pt. 2:  Please visualize this Hoseok with the undercut ;) As always, any comments or feedback are much appreciated, but I appreciate you all anyway. Lots of love, Isi <3

[stephleb]

Open Your Future: Discover Free CNA Classes in Atlanta, GA Today!

Unlock Your Future: Discover Free CNA Classes in Atlanta, GA Today!

Are you dreaming of a rewarding‍ career in ​healthcare that allows you to make a difference in people’s lives? Becoming a Certified Nursing Assistant (CNA) can open the doors to a fulfilling and stable profession. The great news is that‍ if you’re located ‌in Atlanta, GA, there are numerous opportunities for you to sign up for free CNA classes. In this guide, we will explore how these classes can benefit you, where to find them, and‍ other useful tips to ⁤kick-start your career.

What is a CNA?

A Certified‌ Nursing ⁣Assistant is a vital part of the healthcare team, providing essential care to patients in various settings, such⁤ as hospitals, ‍nursing homes, and assisted living facilities. ⁢The role involves assisting with daily activities,‌ measuring vital signs, and providing emotional support to patients. To become a ⁤CNA, you need to complete a state-approved training program and pass a competency exam.

Benefits of Becoming a CNA

Fast Track to Employment: ⁤CNA training programs can be completed in a few weeks, allowing you to enter the workforce quickly.

Varied Work ‍Environments: CNAs work in various healthcare settings, offering flexibility and variety in job choices.

Job Stability: The demand for CNAs is⁤ steadily growing, making this field a secure career path.

Experience in Healthcare: Working as ⁣a CNA is an excellent stepping stone for‌ pursuing further education in nursing or other healthcare professions.

Where to Find Free CNA Classes in ⁤Atlanta, GA

Finding free CNA classes in ⁣Atlanta is easier than you think. Here are some organizations and institutions that offer these programs:

Local Community Colleges

Many community colleges in Atlanta offer subsidized CNA programs. Check out:

Atlanta Technical College

Georgia State University

Healthcare Facilities

Some healthcare facilities provide free training programs and‌ cover the cost of certification in exchange for⁤ a work commitment. Notable facilities ⁣include:

Northside Hospital

Emory Healthcare

Non-Profit Organizations

Non-profit organizations often offer ​free CNA training as part of their mission to improve community healthcare. Examples include:

Operation Bootstrap

Goodwill of‍ North Georgia

How‍ to ​Enroll in Free CNA Classes

Research Programs: Look for CNA programs in Atlanta that fit your ⁢needs and ensure they are state-approved.

Check Eligibility: Some programs may have specific requirements, such ⁢as age, education, or background⁢ checks.

Apply Early: Free programs ⁣can fill ​up quickly; applying ahead of time increases your chances of enrollment.

Prepare Documents: Gather necessary documents such as your identification, prior education certificates, and any other required ‍paperwork.

Practical Tips for Success in CNA Classes

Here are some tips to help you excel in your CNA training:

Stay Organized: Keep track of assignments and study materials to stay on ‌top of your coursework.

Network: Build relationships with instructors and peers for support and ⁣potential job ​opportunities.

Practice ⁤Skills: Take advantage of any lab time ⁤to practice hands-on skills.

Stay Engaged: Participate in class discussions and ask ‌questions to deepen your​ understanding.

Real-Life Success Stories

Many individuals have transformed their lives through free CNA classes. Here are a couple of inspiring ‌stories:

Maria’s Journey

Maria, a single ⁢mother of two, enrolled in a free CNA program offered by ‌a ⁤local hospital. She completed her training in just six weeks and secured a full-time position right after passing her certification exam. Now, ‌she is furthering her⁢ education in nursing and attributes her success to the foundational skills gained as a CNA.

John’s Experience

John, a restaurant worker, found his passion for ‌healthcare​ after completing a ⁢free CNA course. He enjoyed providing care to patients and has since advanced ‌to become an LPN (Licensed Practical Nurse), showcasing the potential career paths‌ stemming from becoming a CNA.

Cost Considerations​ and Financial Aid Options

While several programs offer free classes, some related costs might occur. Consider these financial aspects:

Cost Type

Estimated Amount

Textbooks

$100 – $200

Uniforms/Scrubs

$50 – $100

Background Check

$50 – $80

Certification Exam Fee

$100 – $150

Financial aid options may be available if you encounter costs. Be sure to ⁢inquire about scholarships and payment plans!

Conclusion

Embarking on a career as a Certified Nursing Assistant can be a life-changing decision, especially with the availability of free classes in Atlanta, GA. By taking the initiative to enroll in these programs,⁤ you⁤ are investing in a future filled with job opportunities, fulfillment, and the satisfaction of​ helping others. Don’t wait—unlock ⁢your future today by exploring the free CNA classes available in your area!

https://cnatrainingcentral.com/open-your-future-discover-free-cna-classes-in-atlanta-ga-today/

[shahbazahamad]

The Ultimate Guide to Web Application Development in 2024

Web application development is constantly evolving, and 2024 is no exception. Whether you're a beginner aiming to build your first project or a seasoned developer looking to keep up with the latest trends, this guide will walk you through everything you need to know. From modern tools and frameworks to the increasing role of AI, the landscape of website and app development is becoming more exciting and competitive.

Let’s dive into the essentials of web application development in 2024.

Why web application development in 2024 is booming

In 2024, web application development is a cornerstone for businesses, startups and entrepreneurs. Companies are increasingly looking for fast, responsive and scalable apps that can meet the growing expectations of users. The growing trend in website and application development is due to:

Users demand a better experience: Today’s users expect seamless interactions across devices, leading developers to focus on apps that can perform well on desktops, tablets and smartphones

Modern Technology Impact: Innovations in programming, language, and AI are pushing boundaries in the development world, giving developers new ways to create more dynamic applications

The importance of scalability: Companies want apps that can handle increasing traffic without compromising performance.

Role of AI in web application development

AI is transforming web application development by automating processes, enhancing user interfaces, and predicting user behavior. In 2024, AI tools are incorporated into front-end and back-end development, improving productivity and enabling faster and smarter app solutions.

Key areas where AI makes a difference:

Automated testing: AI algorithms help automate test cases, ensure faster bug detection and reduce the time spent launching an app.

Personalization: AI analyzes user behavior to provide personalized recommendations and experiences within apps.

Enhancing security: AI strengthens app security by detecting vulnerabilities and detecting potential threats in real time.

Best Practices for Modern Web Application Development

Building a successful website in 2024 requires you to adopt best practices in website and app development. Here are the basic strategies.

Responsive thinking

Functional design is not an option. Since users switch to apps from many devices, your app should work well on all screen sizes. Focus on creating a responsive framework by using frameworks like Bootstrap or Flexbox to ensure that your app delivers a consistent experience across platforms.

API-first development

APIs have become the backbone of web and application development. Taking an API-first approach makes it easier for your app to interact with other services, making it easier to integrate third-party tools or enhance features without modifying the main system

Single Page Assignments (SPAs) .

Single-page applications provide faster load times by loading and dynamically updating a single HTML page as users interact with the application. Frameworks like React, Vue.js, and Angular are popular choices in 2024 to build SPAs.

Progressive Web Applications (PWAs) .

PWAs seamlessly integrate web and mobile applications, provide offline capabilities, faster loading times, and the ability to add the app to your home screen without going to the app store cost-effectiveness, for its functionality - and there are some benefits.

Top tools and frameworks for web application development in 2024

Choosing the right tools and frameworks is important for a high-performance and scalable web application. Here are some key options for 2024.

 Response.js

React.js is one of the most popular front-end frameworks due to its flexibility and efficiency in creating interactive user interfaces. With its component-based architecture, React helps build dynamic and functional apps with ease.

Node.js

Node.js provides a lightweight and scalable solution for backend development. It allows developers to use JavaScript for front-end and back-end, simplifies development workflows, and accelerates app deployments.

Written by Django

Python-based Django is ideal for secure, scalable, and maintainable web applications. Its battery packed approach provides access to a variety of built-in features, including user authentication and an admin panel, to save time in development.

Run Vue.js

Vue.js continues to grow in popularity for front-end development. Its progressive nature allows developers to adopt Vue gradually, making it a good choice for businesses looking to implement changes step by step.

Security in web application development

In 2024, security is central to web and application development. Hackers are always looking for vulnerabilities in apps, so it’s important to secure your web application. Here are basic safety practices to follow.

Data encryption: Always encrypt sensitive data, whether transmitted over a network or stored in databases.

Multi-Factor Authentication (MFA): Implementing MFA adds additional security by requiring users to authenticate themselves in multiple ways.

Regular updates and patching: Make sure all your dependencies, libraries and frameworks are updated regularly so that they are patch-proof.

Secure API endpoints: APIs are frequent targets of cyberattacks, so it’s important to protect your API endpoints with strong authentication and access controls.

The future of web application development

Looking ahead, the future of web application development will be shaped by a number of factors:

AI-driven development: AI will automate coding, testing, and user interface design, reducing the time needed to develop and deploy web applications.

Web 3.0 and decentralized apps: As blockchain grows, decentralized apps (dApps) will rise in popularity, allowing users to interact directly with data without intermediaries

Voice Signal Interaction: Voice commands and gesture recognition will be increasingly integrated into web applications, providing users with an intuitive way to interact with apps

conclusion

In 2024, web application development is growing rapidly, driven by a combination of user demand, technological advancements and AI. Whether you’re focused on website and app development for businesses or making the next big move in tech, staying on top of trends, tools and best practices is going to be important. With proper design, adopting AI, and prioritizing security, you’ll be better prepared to build apps that meet the challenges and opportunities of today’s web landscape

Now is the time to embrace the future of web application development and start building new scalable, secure applications for your employees