#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.

[ofliterarynature]

HELLO, I just learned that a friend from college has a novella coming out next year from Tor Nightfire!!!

Morsel by Carter Keane (April 14, 2026)

The Blair Witch Project meets The Ritual, with a generous helping of The Menu, in Morsel, a delicious folk horror novella perfect for fans of T. Kingfisher, Cassandra Khaw, and Paul Tremblay.

Lou did what the children of parents with back-breaking, poor paying jobs are supposed to - pulled up her bootstraps, went to college, and got an office job with coworkers who won’t stop talking about their multi-level marketing scheme disguised as self-betterment.

Determined to lift her ill mother out of poverty before it's too late, and in the spirit of climbing the corporate ladder, Lou accepts an assignment in the rural hills of Ohio. She quickly finds herself stranded in the middle of nowhere with a sabotaged truck, a dog she’s determined to keep safe, and something stalking her through the ancient Appalachian woods.

If she can’t escape the woods in time, she’ll come face to face with the fact that her job isn’t the only thing that wants to eat her alive.

Morsel is a chilling testament to the burden of generational poverty and the all-consuming nature of capitalism, where the monster and the monstrous, in the end, are not the same.

[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.

[davyjonesblogger]

Jealous Jones

Davy Jones x reader

Requested

@sengria

Note: Thank you for requesting! I’m so sorry this is very late, I hope you like it!

Date published: 02/2/2025

~~~

“The hell was that for?” you say, a bit annoyed.

To say that you were growing agitated by Davy’s sudden appearances would be an understatement, every time you talk to another crew member of the Dutchman.

You were the only undead member, after somehow crossing paths with you, as you were drifting, lost at sea all on your own, Davy decided to take you in and give you a place as part of the crew when he could have very easily just allow you to continue drifting. Many of the crew wasn’t pleased by that, but as they had come to get to know you and you getting to know them more, you managed to make some into your friends.

Overtime, you begin to notice that although you were free to roam the ship, Davy begins tracking your movements as if you were planning to escape. You tried to understand why he would think that, until you realize that he’s becoming rather more possessive of you. During your time on the Dutchman, you pretend not to notice that but it was challenging. What had you finally breaking through of things was on one day, a few turn of events had come about and you witnessed his darker side. On one instance, you had made a mistake while doing your assigned job, and as you were about to get punished for it by the crew themselves, Davy stepped in, putting things to a brief stop. Because the idea of allowing you to take the punishment was something he was not willing to stand for, he put one of the others in your place to take it before sending you away, not wanting you to see what was about to happen.

You remember trying to protest and reason with Davy to either not do it or to let you take it, but he wouldn’t.

“I’ll take them all.” you say.

Davy argued a bit back in disagreement, but didn’t say anything.

So, you take that opportunity to try again before anything happened.

“Please don’t do this, Davy.” you beg, only loud enough for him to hear.

Davy looked at you, as if almost considering your plea. But instead, he orders Bootstrap to take you away from this.

Weirdly enough, that was exactly when you formed a friendship with Bootstrap and when Davy wasn’t anywhere to be seen, you would hang out together, but that was only if you weren’t on duty. As of this moment, you were both free of any tasks and you were both looking up at the clear night sky above you, stargazing and having meaningful conversations.

As the two of you continue to talk, you were unaware of another presence until something or someone grabbed you by the arm without warning, pulling you away from Bootstrap. It didn’t take you long to realize it was Davy pulling you back, not that you weren’t happy to see him, you can’t help but let out an agitated sigh, as his sudden appearances were beginning to annoy you. This is where you begin to question him, when he doesn’t respond to you the first time, you repeat the same question.

“The hell was that for?”

This time, Davy stops to face you, with an unreadable expression.

“I don’t want you talking to Bootstrap anymore. Or to anyone onboard for that matter, not without my permission.”

You were taken aback by this response, but than suspicion coursed through you, as you begin to realize what this was more about.

“Why?”

“I don’t like seeing you talking to him. You can’t always know and trust whatever intentions he has for you, (Y/n).” he says.

That’s when it occurred to you, when it all made sense now.

When it clicked within you, you almost couldn’t believe it yourself.

“Is someone jealous?” you tease.

It took a few moments to get response, but when you did, you found it adorable as he tried to deny it.

“Of course not! What is it I should be jealous of? I don’t feel nothing of the sort.”

“Jealousy is a powerful emotion, Jones. It’s okay to allow yourself to feel-“

“Aren’t you forgetting something? I’m a heartless man and you know that.”

“You say that you are, but I don’t think you are. With or without your heart, I believe you can still feel such an emotion if it’s strong enough.”

“I don’t feel anything. I feel nothing.” he tries again.

But you knew better as you decide to push him a tad bit further, but careful enough as to not test him.

“Don’t feel rejected by me, Davy. Just because you see me talking to someone else doesn’t mean I’m rejecting you, I would never. You have nothing to be afraid of because so you know, I have eyes only for you.”

Davy felt shocked by hearing you say that.

So much that Davy remained exactly where you left him for a while longer, lost in his own thoughts.

“Perhaps she’s right…” he admits.

But only to himself.

~~~

A/N: Please request!!!

[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

[garygoldenbignaturals]

waves Hii im curious about your ocs, mind introducing a bit about them?

i have a. bajillion of them but! i shall introduce u to the ones i often talk about the most here :3

jaden blackwood (she/her) | iggy vitali (she/her)

jaden is the character i created out of the ventrue player character i played in vtm: bloodlines. she's a rich faildaughter in every sense of the word. business major, nepo baby exec, yuppie, from finance, etc etc. although she likes to think otherwise, she's never had to work a day in her life before being embraced. now that she's at the bottom of the vampire pecking order she can finally pull herself up by her bootstraps like how her types always say to prove how competent she really is at things. good thing those things often involve blood and violence, the latter of which she's had to suppress her want for. she's also a character born of my fascination with yuppies lol

iggy, on the other hand, is a much friendlier kind of gal. perhaps to a fault for a vampire, especially a tremere, but her sunny disposition wasn't born out of blind optimism. it's a bit long to get into here but after all the loss she's went through, her outlook on unlife is to keep going on. there's an eternity to go through after all! she sees her vampirism as a sort of blessing-- without it she wouldn't have learnt about as many things as she had, nor see and experience the world as much as she wanted. she always had that scholarly academic spirit and her thirst for knowledge is never quite quenched. she enjoys the nightlife too, you might see her in the club. reading it. and by "it" lets justr say. her tomes

saai rinjiani (she/her) | alfyrrha (she/her)

saai's artfight page has a lot written down for it but there's a chance i wrote it all in a haze and nothing makes sense so. she's a high ranking military officer assigned to be a governor general in a farming colony far off the mainland of her nation. never quite had any human treat her adequately before so she was conflicted when she was treated very cordially by the demon lord alfyrrha.

alfyrrha is a demon lord who holds reign over the region not far off from the colony saai oversees. she's not of the same world saai is and demon lords like her often do claim their own domains that they care and act as a warden for. although she sounds powerful described like this, demon lords are restricted to their territory. it's convoluted to explain bc this has to do with the worldbuilding that has marinated my brain for so so long (i need to talk to you about it sometime. ough) ok help i'm loosing the thread of what i was gonna write here. basically they are at odds with each other but without cooperation between the both of them along with the land and people they hold power over everything can end very badly.

their story is so all over the place and long atm hhrghrghrjh but the ideas i have are there. if i had to bastardize their characterizations saai is my poor little meow meow and alfyrrha gaslights gatekeeps girlbosses. and gets silly with it

[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.

[dollgospel]

Hello Tumblr! it's been awhile, tw: ya girl has been going through it

I haven't been active or making anything on here as of late due to my "re-evaluation of my entire existence". I came to the conclusion that I am always depressed, I have not been able to pinpoint a time in my life in which I have not been existentially weighed down. Sure I have definitely been happy, but I have never not been depressed. It's in no way at the fault of others, It stems from a deep unhappiness within myself.

I have gotten help so many times (medication, therapy, etc.) but it never sticks. So much help to the point that I feel guilty that I'm wasting resources that someone who really could heal could use. No matter how many times I try and start fresh, or power through, or try something new, I still find myself falling into a vicious cycle. Mostly procrastination and binge eating. But as I looked deeper I was using self sabotaging and overeating as a form of self harm. I've never really been a mutilator (blood scares me too much) so alternatively I gorge myself until I vomit to feel something. I don't turn in assignments, go to class, or put effort in at rehearsal because deep down I don't think I deserve to succeed. I constantly put myself in panic, stress, and trouble as a punishment onto myself.

Self image has always been a struggle for me (yeah duh girl everyone and their mother) but I have never been happy with the way I look. Since kindergarten I have been considered ugly in 5th grade I was mistaken for a boy. That has been constant forever but unfortunately it got worse when I was diagnosed with a tumor sitting on my ovaries. It rendered me unable to properly breakdown food and so I gained weight. I have always been on the larger side since I was little, but this was a RAPID weight gain, thankfully I had surgery and got it removed and they gave me medication to "re-build" my digestion system. But I didn't take it. I didn't think I deserved to be smaller. I dress in baggy clothes and stopped wearing makeup. I put on an outwardly mean disposition. I do these things in an effort to make myself ugly inside and out in the hopes that people would stop caring about me. I hoped to become grotesque so that I could eventually drop off the face of the earth without disturbance.

I had never thought about how my actions affected the people around me. I constantly cancel plans because I don't want my picture taken and I don't want to have fun because I just get home and remember how odd I acted or how bad I looked. Now people have stopped asking me to hang out or go places, and I don't blame them.

My current task at hand is to stop hating myself. Not to sound like an old white man from the south, but I need to "pull myself up by my bootstraps". Thus I mean doing things like actually taking my meds and not going on benders where I take a bunch of them and then absolutely none. Actually taking them. handing in and putting effort into the remainder of my finals and assignments. in addition to eating out of necessity and enjoyment rather than seeing how far I can push myself till I vomit. i'd also like to go back to the gym because I really did like it, I just don't like the people. Things like dressing how I want to, getting back into make up, and making more efforts to be around my friends will have to come later once I get the basic existing part down.

Case and point I have to stop hiding from my own capabilities, success, and the world because I think I don't deserve it.

I am a talented, capable, and good person. I need to stop pretending like I'm not 

[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.

[virtualease]

Top Tools for Website Design and Development

Introduction

In today’s digital age, website design and development have become the foundation of successful online businesses. From tech startups in Bengaluru to independent freelancers in Surat, the need for high-performing, visually engaging, and user-friendly websites is more critical than ever. But success in this space isn’t just about talent—it’s about using the right tools. The tools you choose can speed up your workflow, improve collaboration, and help you build scalable websites that meet modern demands.

In this blog, we’ll explore the most effective tools for website design and development, with a strong focus on how they are used locally across India, along with some unique insights and generic best practices to give you a comprehensive understanding.

Why Choosing the Right Tools Matters

Tools Influence Workflow and Quality

In the field of website design and development, tools act as the bridge between imagination and execution. Whether you’re working on UI design or backend functionality, efficient tools enhance productivity, reduce errors, and ensure higher quality outcomes.

Best Design Tools for Indian Creatives

Adobe XD

Adobe XD remains a favorite for designers working on website wireframes, prototypes, and high-fidelity mockups. It allows users to streamline client presentations and collaborate across cities—perfect for distributed teams in cities like Pune, Noida, and Hyderabad.

Figma

Figma's cloud-based nature has made it a hit among Indian freelancers and agencies alike. Real-time collaboration allows multiple designers and developers to work on a single file, saving time and reducing miscommunication.

Canva

Though traditionally seen as a graphic design tool, Canva is increasingly used for simple website mockups, particularly by freelancers in tier-2 and tier-3 cities who are building small business websites on a budget.

Popular Development Tools in India

Visual Studio Code

VS Code is the most preferred code editor among Indian developers. It supports all major programming languages used in website design and development, offers a huge extension library, and has a simple, efficient UI.

GitHub

Version control is essential for any serious development workflow. GitHub enables developers to manage code efficiently and collaborate across states and time zones, making it invaluable for Indian web teams.

CodePen

Indian front-end developers love using CodePen to test ideas, demonstrate design concepts to clients, and polish smaller components before integrating them into full projects.

Frameworks and Responsive Design Tools

Bootstrap

Bootstrap continues to be one of the most widely adopted frameworks for mobile-first design in India. It provides a standardized structure that saves time and ensures consistency—ideal for government portals and educational institutions.

Tailwind CSS

Tailwind CSS offers a utility-first approach that has found favor among Indian startups. Developers can create customized designs without writing a lot of custom CSS, which speeds up development and improves maintainability.

CMS and E-commerce Tools Tailored for Indian Users

WordPress

WordPress powers a majority of Indian websites due to its simplicity, plugin ecosystem, and local hosting support. From bloggers in Assam to retailers in Tamil Nadu, WordPress is a go-to platform for scalable and budget-friendly web projects.

Shopify

Shopify is being widely adopted by Indian small business owners looking to launch e-commerce platforms quickly. With pre-built themes and native payment options, it reduces technical hurdles for non-developers.

Project Management and Collaboration Tools

Trello and Notion

To keep track of development tasks and design milestones, tools like Trello and Notion are indispensable. Indian teams use them to manage content calendars, assign roles, and centralize documentation for each client project.

Slack and Zoom

With the rise in remote working, especially post-2020, Indian web agencies have adopted Slack and Zoom for daily communication, client demos, and virtual sprint reviews.

Testing and Performance Optimization Tools

PageSpeed Insights

Performance is a key aspect of website design and development, especially in India where users often access sites through slower connections. PageSpeed Insights helps diagnose speed issues and suggests actionable improvements.

SEO Auditing Tools

Search engine visibility is non-negotiable. SEO tools are regularly used by Indian developers and marketers to analyze keyword usage, structure meta tags, and optimize page load times for better Google rankings.

Tools for Multilingual and Regional Adaptation

WPML and Polylang

India’s linguistic diversity makes multilingual support a major requirement. Tools like WPML and Polylang allow developers to create localized content in Hindi, Tamil, Bengali, Marathi, and more—crucial for reaching broader audiences.

Unique Insights from Indian Web Professionals

Demand for Low-Budget, High-Value Tools

Indian freelancers and micro-agencies often balance functionality and cost. Free-tier tools and open-source solutions remain popular due to budget constraints while still delivering solid results.

Combining Traditional and Modern Techniques

In many Indian projects, there's a blend of classic tools like Photoshop with new-age platforms like Figma and Webflow. This hybrid approach helps meet varied client expectations and development capabilities.

Generic Tools for All Web Projects

Trello for Task Management

Regardless of team size, Trello is a handy tool for managing deadlines, creating Kanban boards, and assigning roles in any website design and development project.

Zoom for Client Communication

Zoom continues to be the platform of choice for client walkthroughs, team meetings, and virtual training sessions. Its stability and widespread familiarity make it ideal for Indian teams.

Conclusion

The right tools for website design and development not only simplify technical tasks but also elevate the overall user experience. Whether you’re developing a landing page for a boutique in Jaipur or building an e-commerce site in Chennai, leveraging these tools can significantly improve the quality, speed, and success of your work. Understanding local client needs and pairing that with global best practices allows Indian developers and designers to remain competitive and innovative in a fast-paced digital landscape.

FAQs

Q1. Which tools are best for beginners in website design and development? Canva and Figma are excellent choices for beginners due to their ease of use and learning resources.

Q2. What coding tool is most commonly used in India? Visual Studio Code is the most widely used code editor among Indian developers.

Q3. Can I design a professional website without coding? Yes, platforms like WordPress and Shopify allow you to build professional websites with little to no coding.

Q4. Are these tools available for free? Most tools offer free plans or trial versions, which are enough for freelancers and small projects.

Q5. How do Indian developers handle multilingual websites? They use tools like WPML or Polylang to support Indian regional languages.

Q6. Which design tool allows for real-time collaboration? Figma is ideal for real-time design collaboration, widely used in remote Indian teams.

Q7. What tools help improve website speed? PageSpeed Insights is commonly used to analyze and enhance website load times.

Q8. Do Indian freelancers use GitHub? Yes, GitHub is a standard for version control among both freelancers and agencies in India.

Q9. What tool is best for creating responsive designs? Bootstrap and Tailwind CSS are top choices for building mobile-friendly responsive websites.

Q10. How can I manage my team during a website project? Trello and Notion are widely used for task management and project documentation across India.

[magiccarpetman]

Two years ago, I started reading in depth about day to day life in and around the WWII Japanese internment camps, particularly focusing on the two that were located near where I live. I’ve read over a hundred firsthand accounts written by internees and their children as well as poetry, literary magazines, and newsletters written by internees during their time in the camps. I’m interested, too, in the parallel stories of the German and Italian prisoners of war held on US soil and the ways in which their treatment differed from the conditions the internees—many of them US citizens—were held under.

It’s fascinating work, and I genuinely think it’s a research/archival interest that will sustain me for the rest of my life. It wasn’t until last night that I realized why I care so much.

My partner and I were talking about our grandfathers and the different-but-parallel ways in which the pressure to assimilate into American whiteness challenged their connections to their family history. “Is that why you care so much about the internment camps?” he asked suddenly. I realized it was.

I was raised on the stories of my maternal grandfather and his brothers, second generation German Americans, enlisting during WWII and being assigned to guard captured Nazi officers, responding to their insults in fluent German to the admiration of their once-xenophobic peers. A “bootstraps” story.

When I started looking into my local Japanese internment camps, I learned that those captured officers were held in a former internment camp (the two camps in my state consolidated later in the war, leaving one site empty to be repurposed as a military prison). Based on the information I can glean about the timeline of my grandfather and great uncles’ service from family records, it’s entirely possible that they were assigned to guard the camp while it still held Americans whose freedom, property, and dignity had been seized by their government. I keep an eye out for their names when I read new material.

What my partner helped me realize, though, is that it’s really my other grandfather’s life story that’s inspired me to care so much about Japanese internment. My paternal grandfather was taken from his birth family when he was too small to have formed clear memories of them. The government records surrounding his placement in foster care are ninety years old and often contradict each other in a way that suggests either carelessness or deliberate obscuring of information. His mother (first name not recorded; my grandfather does not know it) is listed as “schizophrenic and hysterical” and seems to have been forcibly institutionalized the day my grandfather was taken. He would never see his birth family again.

My grandfather’s earliest paperwork from his entry into the foster care system lists him as Native American. When the woman I grew up calling “great grandma” adopted him eleven years later, three years after the last Japanese internment camp shut down, his newer paperwork called him white, as it has for the rest of his life.

Academically and poetically, I’m interested in displacement and its aftermath, the way ruptured communities work together to become whole again. I’m interested, too, in the stories that are lost along the way, all the people who are allowed to disappear into the holes in the record.

One of the post-internment accounts I’ve read was written by a woman whose family changed their names to allow themselves to pass as Chinese after their release from the camp. In this way, they were able to put down new roots in a nearby community. They experienced a strange racial liminality there. At one point, the woman wrote, their white landlord successfully lobbied for her and her siblings to be allowed to attend the local “white” school rather than the “colored” school.

Rereading that account today, I’m thinking about the first tiny slip of a pen that rendered my grandfather white. I can feel the edges of the hole in the record that threatens to swallow his story and the stories of those like him. That’s what gets me about Japanese internment. If we forget the messy, unconscionable day to day of what the internees’ lives were like in the camps, we’ll be one step closer to letting the whole thing fold up into a neat, palatable story.

Sorry to write so much on your post! (And to post my sleep-deprived ramblings unedited).

“Be curious about what you’re writing about” is not stock Common Writing Advice but it really, really should be. There are a lot of written works that fail due to the authors just being obviously incurious about what they are writing about.

[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

[whatisameliareading]

A Spy in the Struggle by Aya de León

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️.25/5

Yolanda is a woman that gets what she wants. Once she sets her mind to it, there is no stopping her. What she wants is a cush job being a corporate attorney in New York City and to live comfortably - out of poverty. Then the FBI raids her shady firm and Yolanda has to change her plans. She ends up being assigned a mission in her old California college town for the FBI investigating an "extremist" African-American activist group. Things aren't as easy as she hoped when a dead body appears and then dissappears,and people in high places are endangering Yolanda and the people she cares for.

-

Even though it took me a minute to get into it, once I did , was hooked. Like automatically you know that the FBI is up to some shit when they are like, the big chemical corporation is who we need to protect, not the people in the town, Holloway, where they built their chemical plant. The activist group is just demanding justice to the environment they live in once that corporation came in. It was difficult to be pro-Yolanda at the beginning because of that.

It took a little longer than I anticipated for Yolanda to see the other side of things and not look at events from the FBI perspective. But also, I would say, a conservative perspective. She, pretty much by definition, pulled herself up by her bootstraps out of poverty and made it to Harvard and became a corporate lawyer. So this plays into her seeing the activists as whining and not doing anything to help their situation. It was an interesting conversation to read about and read about how once Yolanda realized what people of color had to deal with in Holloway. I have heard similar narratives voiced in my own rural, white hometown,so I was fascinated to see her character growth once she was thrown in the thick of it. Honestly, how can you give people shit & then tell them to make lemonade? It doesn't work.

The romance was also a delightful subplot. While the main plot of the story was Yolanda infiltrating an activist group and finding out their secrets, her finding love that accepted her for who she is and allowed the room to grow was sweet.

[javafullstackait]

Comprehensive Guide to Java Full Stack Development Training at AchieversIT

In the rapidly evolving tech industry, the demand for skilled full-stack developers continues to grow. As a Java Full Stack Developer, you can handle both front-end and back-end development, making you a highly valuable asset in the job market. If you’re considering building a career in this field, AchieversIT in Hyderabad offers one of the most comprehensive Java Full Stack Development training programs. This guide explores everything you need to know about the training and how it can help shape your career.

1. What is Java Full Stack Development?

Java Full Stack Development involves working on both the client side (front-end) and the server side (back-end) of an application using Java as the core technology. A full-stack developer is responsible for creating dynamic user interfaces, managing databases, and ensuring seamless functionality of the application.

At AchieversIT, the training program covers the full spectrum of skills required to excel as a full-stack developer, from mastering programming languages to learning modern frameworks and tools.

2. Why Choose AchieversIT for Java Full Stack Development Training?

Expert Trainers: Learn from experienced industry professionals with hands-on expertise in full-stack development.

Practical Approach: The program emphasizes real-world application through live projects and practical assignments.

Flexible Learning Options: Attend classes in-person or online, with flexible schedules to suit working professionals and students.

Placement Support: AchieversIT provides dedicated placement assistance, helping you secure job opportunities with top companies.

3. Course Curriculum: A Deep Dive

AchieversIT’s Java Full Stack Development Training is designed to provide end-to-end learning. Here’s a breakdown of the key modules:

Module 1: Core Java and Object-Oriented Programming

Basics of Java programming

Object-Oriented Programming concepts

Exception handling and multithreading

Collections framework

Module 2: Front-End Development

HTML, CSS, and JavaScript: Building responsive and interactive user interfaces.

Frameworks: Introduction to Angular, ReactJS, and Bootstrap for advanced UI development.

Module 3: Back-End Development

Java Servlets and JSP: Learn to build dynamic web applications.

Spring Framework: Explore Spring Boot for creating robust back-end systems.

Hibernate: Understand ORM (Object-Relational Mapping) and database integration.

Module 4: Databases and APIs

SQL: Learn database management using MySQL.

RESTful APIs: Understand how to create and consume APIs.

Module 5: Tools and Deployment

Version control with Git and GitHub

DevOps basics: CI/CD pipelines

Deploying applications on cloud platforms

Module 6: Real-Time Projects

Students work on live projects to apply their learning, including building e-commerce websites, management systems, and API-driven applications.

4. Key Features of the Training Program

Industry-Relevant Projects: Gain experience by working on projects that simulate real-world challenges.

Small Batch Sizes: Personalized attention ensures better understanding and interaction with trainers.

Interactive Learning: Engage in discussions, coding exercises, and group projects for an enriched learning experience.

5. Placement Support at AchieversIT

AchieversIT takes pride in its robust placement assistance program, which includes:

Resume Building: Craft a professional resume tailored to full-stack development roles.

Mock Interviews: Prepare for technical and HR interviews through practice sessions.

Job Referrals: Access opportunities with top IT companies and startups in Hyderabad and beyond.

6. Who Can Enroll in the Program?

This course is ideal for:

Fresh graduates aiming to build a career in full-stack development.

Working professionals looking to upskill or switch to a developer role.

Individuals with a basic understanding of programming and an eagerness to learn.

7. Benefits of Joining AchieversIT

Holistic learning experience covering all aspects of full-stack development.

Access to the latest tools and technologies in the industry.

Affordable fees with installment options.

Networking opportunities with peers and industry experts.

How to Get Started?

Joining the Java Full Stack Development Training at AchieversIT is simple:

Visit the AchieversIT website or contact their admissions team.

Choose a suitable batch schedule (weekday or weekend).

Complete the enrollment process and begin your journey to becoming a certified Java Full Stack Developer.

Conclusion:

AchieversIT’s Java Full Stack Development Training is a perfect launchpad for anyone aspiring to excel in the IT industry. With its industry-aligned curriculum, hands-on learning, and dedicated placement support, the program equips you with the skills and confidence to build a successful career as a Java Full Stack Developer.

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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.