#class bazaar

[classbazaarpromos]

Real Time Spark Project for Beginners: Hadoop, Spark, Docker

🚀 Building a Real-Time Data Pipeline for Server Monitoring Using Kafka, Spark, Hadoop, PostgreSQL & Django

In today’s data centers, various types of servers constantly generate vast volumes of real-time event data—each event representing the server’s status. To ensure stability and minimize downtime, monitoring teams need instant insights into this data to detect and resolve issues swiftly.

To meet this demand, a scalable and efficient real-time data pipeline architecture is essential. Here’s how we’re building it:

🧩 Tech Stack Overview: Apache Kafka acts as the real-time data ingestion layer, handling high-throughput event streams with minimal latency.

Apache Spark (Scala + PySpark), running on a Hadoop cluster (via Docker), performs large-scale, fault-tolerant data processing and analytics.

Hadoop enables distributed storage and computation, forming the backbone of our big data processing layer.

PostgreSQL stores the processed insights for long-term use and querying.

Django serves as the web framework, enabling dynamic dashboards and APIs.

Flexmonster powers data visualization, delivering real-time, interactive insights to monitoring teams.

🔍 Why This Stack? Scalability: Each tool is designed to handle massive data volumes.

Real-time processing: Kafka + Spark combo ensures minimal lag in generating insights.

Interactivity: Flexmonster with Django provides a user-friendly, interactive frontend.

Containerized: Docker simplifies deployment and management.

This architecture empowers data center teams to monitor server statuses live, quickly detect anomalies, and improve infrastructure reliability.

Stay tuned for detailed implementation guides and performance benchmarks!

[dbguidebook]

Relaxed Weekends. #Societythings

[redmagicflower]

(rachel voice) MY BLUEPRINTSSSSS?????????

[gnabnahc]

THE NEW CLASS | BANG CHAN in FENDI for HARPER'S BAZAAR KOREA FEB 2025

[derinthescarletpescatarian]

Okay, listen, I'll concede that there are some things that probably do warrant being banned from Argo. But if the head nurse disappears into the major dope bazaar to buy an odd green potion guaranteed to cause pon farr, and doesn't seem to cause any notable incidents, I don't see why that's the government's problem. Is the potion illegal? It's your fucking dope bazaar! Don't blame the customer! And if the doctor ends up getting arrested for inciting whores to riot then that sounds like you've got some serious issues affecting your sex workers. If they're rioting, maybe look into what exactly he united them around. Enact laws to give them some safety and healthcare, don't blame a hero of class solidarity for helping them self-advocate.

And if the first officer was drugged and hauled into an alley and sexually assaulted that's a. That's a fucking crime. Or at least I hope it's a crime, but seeing Argo's response to these incidents, I'm honestly not sure. You're gonna exile the VICTIM? Really? This is real 'deal with school bullying by expelling the target' behaviour.

Honestly the ban from Argo is probably a good thing. I certainly wouldn't want to go back.

[skywlkrhoney]

A Goodnight Kiss

Jake Hill Conley x Lisbon!reader

Fluff!

Warnings:none

Literature class was always quiet.

Jake always sat two rows behind her. Always. He’d watch her narrow shoulders, the way her fingers nervously flipped through pages, the pen between her lips when she was deep in thought. She barely spoke to anyone, always heading off to be with her sisters during breaks. She didn’t really have any friends.

Whenever Jake saw her, she had a book in her hands—reading like she was starving for it, like the real world didn’t matter.

That Tuesday, the teacher handed out a sheet of paper with a bold title across the top: Assignment – Psychological and Social Analysis of “Carrie.”

“Pairs. Find your partner and turn it in by next Tuesday. That’s it, you’re dismissed,” he said, and the room exploded like someone had lit a match in gasoline—whispers, chairs scraping, people rushing out the door.

Jake watched her get up from her desk calmly, her expression as quiet and distant as always.

She didn’t have friends. No one really dared to talk to a Lisbon—people were always whispering about them, saying Cecilia’s name like it was some kind of cursed spell. But Jake didn’t believe in curses.

So, he left the classroom and searched through the crowd for her locker. When he found her, she was standing in front of it, sliding a couple of books inside. She took a deep breath, like the weight of the day was pressing down on her back.

He walked up slowly and tapped her shoulder lightly with the tip of his finger.

“Y/n, right?” he asked, and she turned to look at him, slowly, like she wasn’t even sure who she was.

She nodded.

“Wanna partner up? I mean—for the Lit project,” he said, stumbling over his words, his voice catching awkwardly in his throat.

A flicker of surprise crossed her face. For a second, Jake wanted to say: “I’m not like the other guys—I don’t care what your room looks like”, but he stayed quiet.

“Sure,” she said softly, a small smile tugging at her lips—and it warmed something inside his chest he hadn’t realized was cold.

“Well… you could come over to my place to work on it. I can talk to my mom,” she said in a shy, quiet voice, and Jake had to lean in to hear her over the noise of the hallway.

“Oh—yeah! Yeah, that’d be great. Is tomorrow afternoon okay? Or whenever you’re free,” he said quickly, trying not to sound too eager. She gave a soft laugh, and he smiled too, noticing how her cheeks scrunched a little when she laughed.

“Tomorrow afternoon works. Jake, right?”

He nodded, still smiling.

She nodded back, her gentle eyes meeting his for a moment.

Then the school bell rang—sharp, loud—snapping them both out of the calm bubble they’d somehow slipped into.

“See you tomorrow, then,” she said, closing her locker with a soft click before disappearing into the hallway crowd.

Jake stood there for a few seconds, staring down the hall like he’d just woken up from a really good dream.

The Lisbon house was quiet.

The other sisters had gone out to help Mrs. Lisbon with a church bazaar. Mr. Lisbon stayed in the living room, watching a football game with the volume turned low. And, by some divine miracle, Jake was alone with Y/n Lisbon.

They were in the bedroom the sisters shared. The atmosphere in the room was both melancholic and delicately feminine.

If the boys at school knew he was there, they would definitely crowd around him the next day, asking stupid questions about what he’d seen inside—what the Lisbon girls’ room was like, what kind of dust mites lived in their pillows.

But Jake wouldn’t be able to answer any of that.

Because the only thing he could see was her.

Y/n Lisbon, sitting cross-legged on a faded floral bedspread, her hair loose in a graceful mess of strands, flipping through the pages of Carrie like she was searching for something very specific.

“Well… we can start the social analysis now,” she said softly, eyes on the marked page and the notebooks spread out before her.

Jake blinked, snapping out of his thoughts.

“Right, yeah,” he replied too quickly, shifting awkwardly and trying to look more focused than he actually was.

She glanced at him for a moment. A tiny smile—barely there, without showing her teeth—touched her lips and faded just as naturally as it had come. Then she turned her attention back to the book, flipping a few more pages with delicate fingers.

“Have you ever read Sylvia Plath?” she asked, gently, still not looking up from the paper.

Jake took half a second to respond, more absorbed in how the light from the window traced her profile like a charcoal sketch.

“Just The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath. It was required reading at another school… but I liked it,” he admitted, a little embarrassed.

Y/n nodded slightly, like she approved.

“That’s a start.”

Jake found himself smiling for no reason. Everything about her seemed so absurdly calm and, at the same time, so full of something he couldn’t quite name. Maybe it was sadness. Maybe strength. Maybe both.

He watched her silently, eyes tracing the line of her nose, the curve of her lashes, the way her brow furrowed just a little when she was concentrating.

She was like some ancient sculpture—one you ache to touch but know you can’t. She had the beauty of something sacred, though not unreachable.

He felt like he could really love her, if she let him.

“What is it?” she asked suddenly, still not looking directly at him.

Jake blinked, caught in the act.

“Nothing… it’s just… you seem to really like books.”

She gave another half-smile and murmured,

“I do… I like the feeling of being a little outside of reality,” she said, straightening her posture and letting out a small sigh.

Jake nodded, and they returned to the assignment.

Even though, for Jake, it was impossible to focus on writing—

—not with her soft voice reading lines from the book like a lullaby.

Jake walked down the stairs of the house.

Outside, the crickets had begun to sing, and the sky had turned a deepening shade of blue as the first stars timidly began to shimmer. The Lisbon house was glowing from within, its lamps casting a warm, golden light that softened every corner.

The sisters had returned from the church bazaar with Mrs. Lisbon and were now helping prepare dinner — light footsteps, hushed voices, and the scent of something baking in the oven filled the air.

She was walking ahead of him, guiding him to the front door. With each step, Jake watched how the lamplight spilled across her hair, making each strand glint like gold.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay for dinner?” she asked softly, eyes on her own feet, her arms gently crossed behind her back, as if trying to hide the nervous energy in them.

“Don’t worry… I promised my mom I’d be back in time for dinner,” Jake replied, now standing too close, feeling the air between them grow thick and quiet.

He opened the front door slowly, letting the cool night breeze brush across his face.

Before stepping out, he turned to her one last time. He smiled without showing teeth and ran his hands down the front of his jeans, trying to calm himself.

“Well… I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” he said, trying to sound casual, even though his heart was pounding from the way her eyes looked at him.

She gave a soft laugh, and the sound stayed lodged in his chest.

Y/n glanced over her shoulder, checking that no one was around. Then she turned back to him — slowly — and stepped a little closer.

Their breaths met in the chilly air of the open door. Without saying anything, she leaned in and placed a feather-light kiss — just off to the corner of his mouth.

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Good night,” she whispered, pulling back slowly, her eyes shining beneath the warm light of the house.

Jake stood frozen, eyes slightly wide, lips parted. But then he collected himself, a slow smile spreading across his face.

“G…good night. See you tomorrow,” he said quietly, just loud enough for her to hear.

She smiled back — a smile that showed the most beautiful teeth he had ever seen — and gently closed the door, leaving behind only her light scent and a racing heart beating on the other side.

[avelera]

Hi, I wanna say I really like your posts and enjoy your meta's about jayce.

So I wanna ask a question: How do you interpret jayce's behaviour here?

Personally, I have always believed that since jayce came from a family of blacksmiths, he would at least know how to negotiate or essentially haggle to an extent so do you think that it's on purpose that jayce isn't particularly shown to haggle when it comes to his interactions with zaunites?

Also, aside from that I think silco and Jayce's last scene really goes unnoticed by many epssically when jayce genuinely chooses to be fully transparent and honest with silco admitting that he is scared.

Short answer: My interpretation of this scene is that it is meant to show how privileged and naive Jayce is.

Just to be clear, I adore Jayce, but I will still admit to his flaws as a character. But, I will also point out when "flaws" like privilege can also lead to generous or otherwise laudable behavior, because it's easy to be a saint in paradise.

As for the longer answer, Jayce doesn't haggle for a few reasons:

1 ) Jayce doesn't haggle because he's never known real hardship. He's from a family of blacksmiths, yes, but of a particular flavor. He's actually from a family of factory owners and toolmakers. He's middle class shading to upper middle class either by virtue of being the son of a factory owner or certainly by the time Hextech takes off. What Benzo was charging probably didn't cost that much to him, especially with Kiramman money backing him up. He needed the items more than he needed a bargain to have them. It probably didn't even occur to him to try to get a deal because of how little the items cost to him.

2 ) Jayce doesn't haggle because of cultural differences. To a Zaunite, it's unthinkable not to haggle. To a Piltoverian of a certain class, it's probably unthinkable to haggle.

I've felt this cultural difference as a person from the US while traveling. You would never haggle in the area I'm from (I don't claim to speak for the entire US), because most shops have an established price and that's what you pay. It would be incredibly rude in most instances to haggle. But when I've traveled to other parts of the world, Turkey for example, it's not considered rude at all, but expected. In places like the Istanbul Grand Bazaar, it's expected and there's etiquette governing it, and US customers are regularly fleeced for 10x the actual price if not more.

But you have to understand too, in relation to Jayce and as referenced in point 1, one reason US customers get fleeced in those places is because the amount being demanded as 10x more than the cost of the item is still a negligible amount for them. An item that they could haggle down to 50 cents costing $5 instead isn't really a big deal. Especially if you're on vacation anyway, you can afford to be generous, even if it means getting mocked behind your back as a sucker.

And for some there's an element of generosity to not haggling. Why would I haggle to get a $5 item down to $2, when it's a negligible difference for me, I want the item, and the person I'm haggling with needs the money more? Which leads into:

3 ) Jayce doesn't haggle because he's a good person at heart. Zaunites from Ekko to Silco are aghast at Jayce's lack of haggling, so it's not just a financial thing, it's a cultural thing. But even with the case of Silco, I'd argue one reason Jayce doesn't haggle is because he sees himself in a position of strength. He knows that independence matters more to Zaun than it matters to the Councilors in Piltover, who might whinge about it and the potential profit losses of losing sovereignty over Zaun, but they've been neglecting Zaun for years so boohoo, they can suck it up and get over it.

That to me is Jayce's view. Jayce admits that Zaun is asking for a lot of privileges that probably should be haggled over, like access to the Hexgates and blanket amnesty, but all that would do is drag out the process, possibly lead to more conflict if tensions rise again during the negotiations, and it would still lead to the same conclusion: Zaun deserves to be its own nation after Piltover neglected it. Jayce is a direct thinker and he decides it's better to just rip the bandaid off and let the chips fall where they may, rather than try to nickel and dime Zaun's negotiations when it would cost nothing AND be the morally correct choice for Piltover to just let them go.

One a final note: I think one reason we're seeing Jayce become a more beloved figure in S2 is because we can now see how radical and progressive his negotiated peace with Silco actually was.

When we only had the context of S1, Jayce's negotiation can come across as too little, too late, or even foolish. But when you see at the end of S2 that, as far as we can tell, without the negotiation going into place, Zaun doesn't have independence and only gains one seat on the Council, you can really see why Jayce using his position of authority while he had it to cut through the bullshit and right what he saw as a systemic wrong in one fell swoop might have been naive but it might have also been the radical change that the city desperately needed. Granted, we'lll never know if the Councilors were right and there could have been negative consequences to not negotiating more. Maybe handing an independent Zaun to Silco and the Chem Barons without haggling would have led to further disaster.

But as the show's theme constantly reiterates, "What could have been?" I think we can see better now that Zaun didn't get everything Jayce was willing to give them at the end of S1, and that's a tragedy. If nothing else, Jayce's willingness to not haggle even when he could wasn't just foolishness, it was because his heart was in the right place and he thought they deserved it. It might be a long time before there's another chance at that kind of progress again without the Man of Progress.

[classbazaarpromos]

Best Courses to Stay Ahead in a Shifting Job Market

The world of work is changing fast — automation, AI, and remote-first workplaces are redefining career success. To stay relevant, you need more than just experience — you need future-proof skills that thrive despite technological disruption or economic slowdown.

✅ What Are Future-Proof Skills? These are high-impact, transferable skills that remain valuable across industries and adapt with evolving trends. Think:

Adaptability & Creativity

Digital Fluency

Data Literacy

Problem-Solving

In-demand areas include:

AI & Machine Learning

Cybersecurity

Digital Marketing

Healthcare & Telemedicine

UX/UI Design

Cloud Computing

Soft Skills (Leadership, Communication)

📚 Best Future-Proof Courses for 2025 Statistics & Data Science with R → Master analytics & decision-making. Great for: Analysts, researchers, career switchers.

Ultimate IT Support Course → Foundational tech support & cybersecurity. Great for: Tech beginners & career changers.

Generative AI for All: Prompt Engineering → Unlock AI tools like ChatGPT for productivity. Great for: Marketers, writers, educators.

Complete Digital Marketing Guide (27-in-1) → Learn SEO, ads, content, and email marketing. Great for: Freelancers, business owners, marketers.

Mastering A/B Testing in UX Design → Optimize user experience with data. Great for: Designers, product managers, strategists.

Communication Skills 101 → Public speaking, writing, teamwork & leadership. Great for: Managers, client-facing pros, team leads.

🎯 Choosing the Right Course Match skills to your career path or transition goal

Compare duration, ROI, real-world projects, and credibility

Prefer university-backed or employer-recognized certifications

Read reviews and job placement outcomes

💡 Bonus: Recession-Proof Career Tips Diversify Your Skillset – Add complementary skills like analytics, design, or communication.

Start a Side Hustle – Monetize your talent on Upwork, Fiverr, or LinkedIn.

Network Digitally – Join online communities and industry groups.

Stay Updated – Follow newsletters, attend webinars, and learn continuously.

Your Takeaway: The job market belongs to the agile, skilled, and visible. Equip yourself with future-proof skills, pick the right courses, and stay connected — and you won’t just survive 2025, you’ll thrive in it.

[classbazaar]

Harvard Free Certificate Courses Learn for Free at Harvard 

In today's competitive world, learning from renowned institutions like Harvard University can give your career the edge it needs. With the increasing demand for high-quality, accessible education, Harvard offers free certificate courses that cater to diverse professional and academic interests. These courses are an exceptional opportunity to gain knowledge from a world-class institution without breaking the bank.

At ClassBazaar, we bring to you an extensive list of Harvard free certificate courses so that you can enhance your skills and knowledge from the comfort of your home. Whether you're a working professional looking to upskill or a student eager to dive deeper into your field of study, these courses are designed to suit your needs. Let’s explore what makes these courses stand out and how you can benefit from them.

What Are Harvard Free Certificate Courses?

Harvard’s free certificate courses are offered online through platforms like edX and are available to anyone interested in expanding their knowledge. These courses cover a wide range of subjects, from computer science and data analysis to the humanities, business, and healthcare. You can enroll in any of these courses for free and even obtain a verified certificate by paying a small fee, or in some cases, you can apply for financial aid.

Why Choose Harvard Free Certificate Courses?

There are several reasons why opting for a Harvard free certificate course is a smart choice for anyone serious about personal or professional development:

Quality Education: Learning from Harvard’s distinguished professors and experts ensures you are receiving top-tier education.

Flexible Learning: The online nature of these courses allows you to study at your own pace and fit learning into your busy schedule.

Diverse Topics: Harvard offers a variety of subjects, ensuring there’s something for everyone, whether you’re interested in technology, business, or the arts.

Networking Opportunities: Engage with fellow learners and professionals from around the world, giving you a broader perspective and valuable networking opportunities.

Resume Boosting: Completing a course from Harvard can add prestige to your resume and set you apart in the job market.

Popular Harvard Free Certificate Courses

Here’s a look at some of the popular Harvard free certificate courses available:

CS50: Introduction to Computer ScienceOne of Harvard's most popular courses, CS50 is ideal for anyone looking to dive into the world of programming and computer science.

Data Science: R BasicsThis course is perfect for professionals who want to enhance their data analysis skills using the R programming language.

Principles of BiochemistryA foundational course for anyone interested in biology or medicine, covering the principles of biochemistry and molecular biology.

Contract Law: From Trust to Promise to ContractIdeal for professionals in the legal or business fields, this course provides a comprehensive understanding of contract law and its applications.

How to Enroll in Harvard Free Certificate Courses?

Enrolling in Harvard free certificate courses is straightforward. Here’s how you can get started:

Visit ClassBazaar, where we offer a curated list of Harvard courses.

Browse through the available courses based on your interest and career goals.

Click on the course you want to pursue and sign up through the corresponding platform, such as edX.

Start learning at your own pace, with the option to earn a certificate upon completion.

Benefits of Completing Harvard Free Certificate Courses

By completing Harvard free certificate courses, you not only gain in-depth knowledge but also a host of other benefits, including:

Increased Career Opportunities: Employers value continuous learning, and completing a Harvard course demonstrates your dedication to self-improvement.

Global Recognition: Harvard is a globally recognized institution, and having a certificate from them can increase your credibility in the eyes of employers and peers.

Lifelong Learning: Whether you're starting a new career or expanding your current skillset, lifelong learning is essential for growth, and Harvard courses provide an exceptional foundation.

Take the Next Step Toward Your Future!

At ClassBazaar, we are dedicated to helping learners like you find the right educational path. Whether you're interested in Harvard's free certificate courses or other online learning opportunities, we provide you with access to the best online courses to suit your needs.

Don't miss out on this opportunity to learn from one of the world’s most prestigious universities. Visit ClassBazaar today to browse through Harvard’s free courses, enroll, and take the next step in your learning journey.

Ready to unlock your potential with Harvard free certificate courses? Explore a wide range of courses on ClassBazaar. Take the first step towards mastering new skills, enhancing your resume, and opening doors to new career opportunities. Start learning today!

[dbguidebook]

How To October ((Harper's Bazaar 2009 / Tim Burton's 'Tricks & Treats'.)) #Societythings

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Scott Dworkin at The Dworkin Report:

We are 8 days into Trump’s return, and it’s clear as day that the pushback from Democrats is disjointed, and needs to be much stronger. But there are some absolute bright spots: outspoken, forceful, determined leaders, who will never cower to Donald. If we want to get serious about winning this fight against maga, these are the types of champions we’ll need to rally behind. US Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez (AOC) has been an extremely effective messenger, who triggers maga at a baffling level. AOC’s slams get viral news coverage, and she knows how to cut through the nonsense better than most anybody out there. Just last week, AOC called out the Broligarchs who once criticized Trump, saying they’re now in a “kiss-ass race,” and enjoying “a billionaire feeding frenzy.” AOC also dropped the mic on Donald, calling him “the quintessential New York con man.” When Trump threw a tantrum about Colombia’s president refusing to accept deported immigrants, AOC said: “Trump is about to make every American pay even more for coffee,” and cause inflation to be “worse for working class Americans.” Spot on.

Then there’s US Rep. Jasmine Crockett, who truly knows how to command an audience. Crockett constantly takes on Marge Greene, Nancy Mace and the rest of the maga cult—during hearings and in public. In Crockett’s DNC speech, she said Trump “is a career criminal, with 34 felonies, 2 impeachments, and 1 porn star to prove it.” “If you’re looking for me to sugarcoat the reality we’re facing, I can’t do that,” Crockett recently told Harper’s Bazaar. US Sen. Tammy Duckworth has been taking on Republicans in ways few others could. A Purple Heart recipient, who lost her legs and severely injured her arm in battle, Duckworth said: “Trump is despicable. He doesn’t deserve to be commander-in-chief.” On cabinet picks, Duckworth took the gloves off, saying Tulsi Gabbard is “compromised,” and doubts “she could actually pass a background check.” Duckworth’s also sounding the alarm about the most unhinged nominee, Kash Patel—warning he’d use “law enforcement to seek retribution against his political enemies.” And as always, US Sen. Elizabeth Warren continues to completely decimate Trump on his corruption, and long list of failed promises. Just last night, Warren blasted Trump: “his failure to even try and move in the direction of lowering [grocery] costs is a betrayal of the American people.”

Happy to have AOC, Duckworth, Warren, and Crockett fighting for what is right.

[rohvee]

The steampunk adventure au intro 🤎

The Piltover Academy auditorium was not the temple of quiet lectures and theory it usually was. Gone were the tiered seats where professors once pontificated beneath stained-glass oculi; the space had been gutted and reimagined in brass and linen.

What now sprawled was a great and haphazard bazaar of invention. Long rows of demonstration tables jostled for attention on the marbled floor, each bearing strange apparatuses like altars to rival gods. Arc-lamps, strung from wrought-iron gantries above, hissed and flickered, casting long shadows over polished gears and oiled levers. The scent in the air was thick: scorched copper, varnished mahogany, the faint sweetness of ozone.

This was the Distinguished Innovator’s Competition—an annual tempest of ambition and vision, where the Piltover Academy’s finest, or at least its most desperate, unveiled the inner machinations of their minds to the city’s elite. The auditorium was a throbbing cacophony: a din of overlapping demonstrations, raised voices, hydraulics, and the occasional alarming hiss from a pressurized pipe.

A mechanical arm attempted to knit a sock and promptly strangled itself with yarn. A self-boiling kettle shrieked like a banshee and spat steam in the face of its inventor, who bowed anyway. A student demonstrated an atmospheric condenser that quietly turned fog into ice within the glass lungs of a humming cube.

The judges floated through this chaos in clusters of three and four—academy staff in pressed uniform, trade lords with silver-topped canes, and venture financiers with toothy smiles. They murmured, took notes, and occasionally raised a brow to devastating effect. Some candidates blanched as they approached; others straightened spines and grinned too wide.

For those gathered here, it was not merely a contest. It was stage upon which a single brilliant moment might secure a lifetime of funding, patronage, and renown—or else consign an idea to obscurity and student debt.

This was Piltover’s true theater, and the curtain was already rising.

Jayce stood at his table, posture straight as a rifle barrel, but his fingers betrayed him—twitching at his sides, drumming anxious patterns along the seam of his coat. He’d polished his boots twice that morning. Now they scuffed restlessly against the gleaming tile, unable to keep still. The judges were one table away.

He glanced sidelong toward the neighboring exhibit and immediately regretted it.

Dmitri. Of course.

Dmitri and his stupid ponytail already grinning in his direction. The man beamed, raised both thumbs in an encouraging gesture that practically radiated good will.

Jayce scowled.

Top of the class. Preternaturally polite. Unfailingly kind. And always, always looked at Jayce like he'd hung the moon in the sky. Jayce loathed him with every fiber of his being.

He rolled his eyes and turned sharply back to his own table.

Jayce’s exhibition lay at the center like a reliquary in a chapel. It rested atop black velvet, arranged with ecclesiastical care: a gilded cradle of finework brass and filigree. It resembled some celestial device—an orrery or diviner’s scope more than any earthly thing. And yet at its heart nestled the true marvel: a gemstone, glistening blue, teardrop-shaped, clenched in golden teeth no wider than a compass needle.

Wires spilled from the contraption’s flank like viscera, snaking toward a tall mechanical limb to its right—elbow-jointed and claw-tipped, folded like a mantis in patient wait.

Jayce stirred at the movement in his peripheral. The judges had begun to bleed away from the neighboring display, and his heart climbed into his throat like a stowaway. He adjusted his stance, smoothed a wrinkle from his lapel, gave his curled moustache a twist, and composed himself.

They approached his table in a cluster.

A vastaya in pince-nez and brocade, fur combed sleek as gunmetal. A chirean of considerable height, nails lacquered and spats spotless. A man with a breathing apparatus of polished brass and wet, hissing filters—the scent of brine and antiseptic trailed him like perfume.

And last, the Dean of the Academy himself: Professor Cecil B. Heimerdinger, who had not missed a single competition in sixty-three years. The yordle's snowy mustache was a sculptural wonder that Jayce often envied.

Jayce inclined his head. “Welcome, honored gentlefolk,” he said, enunciating each word with theatrical clarity, though his pulse thundered in his ears. “I am Jayce Talis, son of the late Caetano Talis—explorer, inventor, and the first man to chart the skies beyond the Shadow Isles in search of the legendary Camavor.”

There were a few mutterings of recognition and approval. Everyone knew of Caetano Talis. His name held a weight that Jayce had every intention to exploit.

Jayce reached to the core of his device and delicately unseated the gem from its cradle. It caught the lamplight and held it like breath in a bottle—blue and infinite.

“On one such expedition, my father unearthed a most curious mineral—what he called a hexstone. Though it may appear unassuming, this is no ordinary gem. Within it pulses a force that defies steam, coal, or even combustion. Colleagues, this stone may offer what the engines of progress have long cried out for: clean, inexhaustible energy.”

There was a rustle among the onlookers. Heimerdinger’s eyebrows gave a subtle twitch. Nearby students—fellow inventors and visitors both, began to collect in a small crowd.

Jayce returned the stone to its golden housing and flipped a switch.

There was a moment’s silence—then the machine stirred.

Light welled up inside the hexstone like a sunrise in deep ocean. It crackled—delicate arcs of lightning leapt along its cage. The arm beside it unfurled like a serpent stretching after sleep. Servos whined. The claw rotated, then lowered with ritual gravity toward the metal block on the table.

A beat.

Then: a searing beam of blue lanced forth from the core of the claw. The table glowed with it. The metal block sizzled. Half the observers flinched.

Jayce kept his hand outstretched like a showman before a curtain drop.

“Laser cutters, as you know,” he said, “require immense power to operate—usually fed by great quantities of coal. And yet, this cutter is powered by a single hexstone.”

The beam sliced cleanly across the block, leaving a line of molten silver.

The judges stirred like deepwater fish sensing heat. There were sharp murmurs and the fevered scratchings of fountain pens.

Jayce cast his gaze over the crowd.

His eyes locked with another’s: a young man in the Piltover Academy uniform, leaning on a cane, a year his senior from the color of his cravat. His face was sharp, arresting, his expression one of quiet intrigue. Amber eyes held Jayce’s gaze with disarming steadiness.

Jayce faltered, momentarily thrown off course.

Then he gave a quick shake of his head, cleared his throat, and turned back to the judges, recovering his rhythm quickly.

“Alas,” he went on, “this is the only hexstone presently known to exist.”

A pause. Just long enough for the drama to curdle.

“My father left no coordinates, no records of the site where he found it. That is why I ask for your support. Your patronage, sponsoring an expedition of discovery. With it, I will retrace my father’s steps across Runeterra to find the source of the hexstones. To bring back more, and change the—”

A sudden noise interrupted him.

Wet and sparking, like a metal lung collapsing.

The generator hiccupped. Then rattled. The golden cradle hissed as veins of lightning began to crawl across its arms like restless centipedes. The gemstone's light shifted—brilliant, then flickering, then too-bright.

Jayce’s smile died.

“No—no no no, not now—”

The machine shrieked. The cutter arm twitched, spasmed, then swung violently to the left.

A student’s project—an elegant clockwork aviary—was reduced to burning feathers and melted brass in a blink.

The cutter jerked again. A nobleman’s hat halved neatly by the beam. Its owner screamed, clutching his scalp and dignity alike.

Jayce lunged for the controls, but the machine was not yet finished in its path of destruction.

The arm rose—higher, higher—then slashed upward in an arc of glorious light.

Right through the gantry.

There was a sizzle as the beam kissed iron. The structure groaned. Weld-points glowed red-hot. A shout echoed across the hall.

“Clear the floor!”

Panic moved like gas through a breached hull.

Innovators scattered, skirts catching, boots slipping on tiles gone slick with spilled oil and tea. The judges fled, coats flaring behind them. The gantry gave a final metallic shriek—then fell.

Arc-lamps burst like supernovae. Wires lashed. Sparks rained.

Flame found silk. A row of tables blossomed fire. Black smoke rose thick and cloying. Screams followed.

And at the center of it all, framed in the infernal glow of a dying dream, Jayce stood in shock.

He stood like a statue carved in the moment of tragedy. Mouth ajar. Blue in the strobe-flashes of the dying machine.

Professor Heimerdinger stepped through the ruin with the quiet dignity of someone who had weathered worse. It wasn’t the first Distinguished Innovators catastrophe—not by far. His waistcoat ends were scorched. His whiskers stood on end with residual static.

He stopped before Jayce, who glumly lowered his gaze.

“I am sorry, my boy,” Heimerdinger said, not unkindly. “It is a grand dream. But I fear the technology of our time is not yet ready to house such wonders.”

He touched Jayce’s hand—a ghost of reassurance—and turned to follow the tide of scholars, sponsors, and engineers streaming toward the exits beneath the alarm-bells.

Jayce remained a moment longer.

He moved then, stepping back to the smoldering remnants of his table. Amid scorched velvet and crushed metal, the hexstone lay still—dull and dormant. He lifted it from the debris, cradling it in his palms.

He turned to go, casting his miserable gaze to the smoke rising toward the fractured oculi far above, carrying his dreams away with it.

Jayce sat on the Academy steps with the slack posture of the thoroughly defeated. His coat was singed at the hem, and soot had settled in the folds of his collar like old guilt. In his hands, the hexstone glimmered faintly.

Behind him, the world carried on: fire-brigades doused the auditorium with hissing foam. Students clustered on the lawn, their voices low, scandal-bent. A few spared glares for the man on the steps. Some pointed accusatorily. One threw a crumpled flyer.

Jayce ignored them. He turned the stone over in his palm, as if a new angle might reveal something salvageable. It did not.

“Sorry, Papa,” he murmured to the stone. “I suppose I’ve fucked everything up again.”

There was a clap on his shoulder, startling him out of his melancholy.

“You’ll get it next year, mate,” chirped a voice like sunshine in a bottle.

Jayce didn’t have to look to know it was Dmitri: stupid ponytail bouncing, optimism radiating from every pore. “You were brilliant right up until the bit where everything exploded. And I’m sure you’ll get that part sorted. Just needs a bit of tinkering!”

Jayce said nothing. He didn’t even scowl.

Dmitri gave his shoulder a squeeze, then bounded off to go join their fellow students.

Jayce sighed. He reached for his coat pocket—and froze.

He patted it. Then the other side. Then rummaged through his satchel. Panic prickled.

“Shit,” he breathed.

His notebook was missing.

Years of equations, test notes, frantic breakdowns, errant sketches scrawled in midnight ink. Obsessions, revisions, half-formed revelations. His life’s work—every fevered inch of it. The thought that it all might’ve gone up in smoke filled his gut with a cold, rising horror.

“Looking for this?” said a voice, each syllable rolling with a thick accent—

Jayce turned—and startled.

It was the man from the crowd. The one with the cane and the amber eyes.

He stood a step above Jayce, idly flipping through a familiar leather-bound book. “I must say, Mr. Talis; I’ve never met anyone who signs every single page of their notes. A little egotistical, don’t you think?”

“Give me that!” Jayce scrambled upright, indignantly lunging for the book. He was a full head taller, but the man was quick and unconcerned. He pivoted with a deft flick of his cane, holding the notebook just out of reach like a matador taunting a bull.

“They were impressive pyrotechnics,” the man said, still leafing through. “But this ‘HexTech’ theory of yours—I’m far more interested in that.”

Jayce faltered mid-grab. “I—pardon?”

The man raised an eyebrow. “It worked, did it not?”

“I… suppose so,” Jayce muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “But I can’t stabilize the output. It always hits a runaway threshold and overfeeds the system.”

“Have you tried increasing the frequency?”

Jayce blinked. “I’ve always focused on dampening the oscillations.”

The man stopped at a page. “Ah, and therein lies your issue.” He drew a pencil from his vest pocket and scribbled a few marks. “Here—see this? You are thinking in terms of suppression, but the stone will only stabilize at high frequency.”

Jayce leaned in. His eyes widened.

He took the notebook, staring down at the page, wonder flooding his veins.

“So… I have to crank it,” he breathed.

The man blinked. Then gave a soft laugh. “Yes. You have to, eh, crank it.”

“It certainly works on paper, but...” Jayce breathed. “I must test this immediately.”

“A tad troublesome with a melted generator,” the man noted.

“I’ve another at my workshop,” Jayce replied. “A prototype. Not as refined, but it’ll do what we need it to do.”

“We?”

Jayce smiled—wide and sincere—then reached out to clap a hand on the man’s narrow shoulder, who raised a curious eyebrow at the contact.

“You solved the issue,” Jayce said. “You ought to see it through with me.”

The man regarded him. Then, with a shrug, “Lead on, then.”

Jayce turned, eagerly bounding down the steps with renewed purpose—then paused, glancing back.

“I realize I don’t even know your name.”

The man gazed at him for a moment, a slow smile crossing his face.

“It’s Reveck. Viktor Reveck.”

[thegreatyin]

hello and welcome to yet another very important and very serious masters of the bazaar tierlist. the theme for today is "would they give you their notes for the class test tomorrow"

i trust this needs no elaboration.

[reallyromealone]

Ganon omegaverse 2 baybee

Fluff, male reader, omegaverse, made up Hyrule lore, mentions of the Oracle's as I have been playing seasons and ages again as they're the best Zelda games fight me

🔺🔻🔺🔻🔻🔺🔻🔺🔻🔺🔻🔺🔻🔺🔻🔺🔻🔺🔻

(name) was in awe as he looked at gerudo valley, the endless sand dunes and the hot sun as they took a break at the Kara Kara Bazaar "we prepared clothes for you, the weather's aren't as fair as they are in the castle" Ganon said smoothly as one of the guards presented him with clothes.

Omegas were treated the same as women in Geredo town, many omegas saught refuge there and were welcomed, so it made sense that omegas wore similar clothes as the gerudo people "uberosa has graciously offered to help you in any way" Ganon said and (name) nodded as he was led to the small inn, the Gerudo who ran the Inn bowing to their king "Sav'aaq...my mate needs a place to change his clothes, could we perhaps use a room?" Ganon was calm and kind to his people who nodded "o-of course! It would be our honor!" One said and they were led to a large bedroom "Sarqso" Ganon said and (name) said a soft thank you with a curtsy to them much to their suprise.

"Uberosa can help you change as needed...I'll be outside" Ganon said smoothly and (name) nodded, the trip had been a bit of a blur so far.

"Did you know of the engagement?" Uberosa asked casually as she helped him clasp anything and adjust, when needed "I wish I did... I-I don't know why my sister would keep something like that...not just from me but from everyone-- aside from betraying me she could have caused /war/"

"The pain it would cause both our people... it's selfish of her" he said and Uberosa was quite shocked, so far the Omega seemed dainty and like many omegas in upper class status but to hear him openly call the Queen selfish /and/ think of not just his people but the Gerudo was quite refreshing.

"I formally apologize for my sister's negligence" (name) bowed to the Gerudo who pulled him up "Fret not little Omega, you are not responsible for your sisters actions"

"I just hope I can make a good impression with your people"

"/Our/"

"Hm?"

"You are mates to my brother, you too are a Gerudo"

"Wait-- you're his sister?" (Name) whispered in awe "you're my sister in law?"

"I am" she smiled softly at his look if awe "A-and you do combat? That's so cool! Zelda knew how to use a sword but I wasn't allowed because I was an Omega, gosh I have so much to learn about the Gerudo people!"

Uberosa found the smaller Omega (compared to her any Hylian was tiny) quite fascinating as she helped him finish up, dressed in lovely Gerudo clothes, the poor Omega fitting in their more teen sizes.

"Fit like a Gerudo" Ganon said smiling as he could see (name) beam from behind the delicate silk that covered his mouth "you think? It's so much more light weight than Hylian clothes" he said happily and Ganon led him back to the carriage "you look wonderful".

The valley was vast as Ganon pointed out things in the far distances, landmarks and such "that is the temple though it's far to dangerous to go into at the moment" he explained and (name) nodded, fully paying attention as he looked at where the other pointed. Ganon found his curiosity precious and was incredibly pleased his mate loved the valley as much as he did "this will be your home, so it's best you know things about it that aren't from books" he looked at (name)s outfit, enjoying the sight of his exposed stomach and knew (name) was sneaking glances at him, the male Gerudo clothes showing his muscles fully and he could faintly smell the attraction from the other who desperately tried to hide his scent.

"Welcome to Gerudo town" he said as they stopped before the sandstone walls that hid the large city, Ganon stepping out as the door opened to help the Omega out and smiling internally at the look of awe on his face "better than the books?"

"Far..." The hot sand slid slightly against his flats, the hot desert Sun like no other but he was giddy none the less.

Between the sandstone buildings were vibrant shades of colored fabrics as stalls lined the townsquare, merchants selling their wares and the sound of water from the stream running through the city. He felt his body shake in excitement and eyes looked around with wonder "you live here?"

"We live here" Ganon said to the other who flushed slightly "we can give you a tour of the town tomorrow, for now we should get you settled in yes?"

The rooms were grand, soft looking blankets and pillows adorned the room he was led to as windows looked out the endless cast desert "I prepared you a room of your own, I didn't want you to feel pressured sharing quarters with me just yet" (name) chirped at his kindness as Ganon took his hands in his own and gently kissed the knuckles "I will leave you to settle"

When night rolled around, (name) had a blanket wrapped around his shoulders as he gazed through the large windows of his room, the valley was beautiful at night as stars littered the sky like flecks of paint... It was like nothing he had seen before at the castle. It was colder too, the Omega shivering slightly under the thick blanket "troubles sleeping?" (Name) turned around to see Ganon dressed in a Bastian shirt and dark pants and shoes.

"It's pretty..." Was all (name) said as his fiance walked to where he was and (name) reached out "care to join me?"

The two couldn't understand their attraction to one another, it was predestined for centuries but it felt like the stars aligned in their favor.

"Absolutely"

(Name) let himself be sat in ganons lap as they looked at the stars, (name) pointing to the constellations that were not able to be seen from Hyrule Castle, what he learned in his books coming in handy as he spoke "that is the constellation for din, it's said the star shines brighter when a season changes" he explained and Ganon hummed "in Hyrule, we could only see farores... What do you think the Oracle's were like?"

"I was told that Din was a traveller, a Nomad one could say... She was one of the first to settle in Gerudo valley..." Ganon said softly, holding pride in his people "it's said nayru still lives, she travels through time and visits periods and watches over to make sure time stays right"

"And farore?"

"None is known about her but it's said she travelled to ta neighboring kingdom and lived in a tree not unlike our Deku tree" ganons voice was soothing as (name) settled in his chest, the smell of spices and honey comforting him as his eyes slipped shut, enjoying the sweet words his fiance spoke.

Ganon stopped speaking when he felt (name) slump, smiling at the Omega who was sleeping so gently against him.

He was truly made for him.

[glitch-but-ya]

To love the heartless, and for the heartless to love.

Pairing: Scaramouche x Reader

TW: Angst(?) + Fluff(?), mentions of death, Scaramouche backstory mentioned, bickering, slight cursing

Summary: What can one do when wounds run too deep for bandaids to cure? That is the shared fate of two souls, burdened by scars etched into their being—scars that mirror each other in color. Yet, despite all odds, the unlikely bond between you becomes the very salve needed for the healing to commence. Word count: 1,780 words

“And if the world condemns us for our sins, let us intertwine our fingers and raise our head in defense, for we would not have sinned if the world hadn’t torn us apart.”

When you met Scaramouche, he was resting beneath the shade of a giant ebony tree, perched on a sturdy branch from which he could observe the farthest lands. His body lay carelessly on the branch, an oversized hat shielding his eyes from the peeking rays of the sun, and his chest remained unmoving. A few leaves escaped from their places and swiftly twirled to the ground. You watched as they swayed before ending their journey on his porcelain face. His face, which glimmered with a serenity unbefitting his reputation, barely moved as the leaves slid past his cheeks. You wondered for a moment—was he alive? If so, why did he lie so still, as if he were nothing but a pretty doll perched on the branch of a great ebony tree?

To your relief, the figure stirred. Scaramouche raised his hand and swatted mindlessly at a bird that flapped around him. He opened his eyes, and a frustrated groan left his lips soon after. Eventually, his gaze landed on you. “You’ve been there for a while, haven’t you? Well, what were you staring at?” he mumbled sleepily, his eyebrows furrowed with irritation, almost as if you were the one who had disturbed his sleep.

You rolled your eyes. “Thinking about how embarrassing it would be to fall asleep under a tree. At noon. In a place where everyone can see me.” “I wasn’t sleeping,” he said, jumping off the branch and dusting off his shorts. “I don’t sleep.” You crossed your arms. “Sure. Then, Mr. Wide Awake, what exactly were you doing?” He turned to you with a blank expression. “Hiding.” “Hiding? From what? A squirrel?”

Scaramouche sighed. “You’re exhausting. Do you always let your curiosity run wild?” “Excuse me?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Never mind. I’m leaving. Don’t even think about following me.” You huffed. “Please. Why would I waste my time chasing after a lost cause?”

“Good. You're smarter than I expected." “Ugh. You’re helpless.” You turned around and began walking in the opposite direction. You prayed this would be the last time you’d ever have to interact with him again. Unfortunately for you, the gods did not favor your request.

You ran into him a total of seven times afterward. He was everywhere you went. A few times, you found him resting on branches of various trees. Once, you ran into him being swamped by a flock of wild kittens. Other times, you spotted him across the street in the grand bazaar as you shopped for your daily groceries. If it weren’t purely coincidental, you might have thought you’d gained yourself a new stalker.

Eventually, you learned that, besides being a lazy asshole, he was also a student at the Akademiya, much like you. You found out the day you saw him studying in the House of Daena late at night, long after all the classes had ended. Looking back now, you’re quite glad he showed up there, at that moment, for that reason. Because after that oddly intimate conversation under the dim light of the desk lamp, something sprouted between the two of you. A growing bond, perhaps. An unexpected affection.

But you couldn’t deny that, even after all those encounters, Scaramouche remained a figure shrouded in darkness. No matter how many times you ran into each other afterward, and no matter how many times the two of you deliberately met and conversed, you felt as if you were still farther away from his past than you’d ever been.

That changed when you came across him one day on an isolated hilltop, gazing at the stars in the vast sky.

Scaramouche had deep scars—scars that left scrapes across his porcelain skin. Many parts of him were shattered, and some parts of him were missing entirely. That was the first thing you learned that served as revolutionary progress for your mental databank about him. And although you could not see these deformations with your naked eye, you could tell that they were there, festering, rotting beneath the nonchalant facade he wore. He wove a mask to protect everyone from inhaling the stench, the noxious gases that poisoned those around him.

But his mask wasn’t only formed to protect the world from him—it also protected him from the world. If the world caught wind of the sins and the mass of corpses he carried to this day, it would not be kind to him. He would lose everything he had fought to rebuild. Scaramouche was abandoned, betrayed, and tortured beyond human comprehension, yes. But nobody was responsible for his crimes except himself. So, he was forced to carry the weight of his actions, to bear the foul odor until he had truly redeemed himself and beyond. Just as he was born to do with his "mother’s" Gnosis.

However, you would not be scared away. What he didn’t know was that you also hid a few wounds of your own.

When you told Scaramouche about your past, he listened. Not once did he interrupt you, mock you for the tears you held back, or let his gaze overwhelm you as you spoke. His eyes were glued to the flickering stars, the bundle of sparkling lies you found mesmerizing. You had no doubt he was listening because he truly was. For some odd reason, you knew he cared, showing it in his own way.

“I just wish I could heal, move on from all this, and start over one day. But these wounds…” You picked at your skin and laughed dryly. “They don’t heal,” Scaramouche concluded for you. You looked at him with widened eyes, staring as the pencil of moonlight illuminated his face perfectly. “You know what it’s like.” “And after a while, they begin to rot.” You nodded to his words. “And then…” you continued, “They leave a scar engraved upon your being, a scar that won’t heal. A scar that will torment you with every beat of your battered heart.” You looked down at your hands. Silence stretched between you two.

Scaramouche couldn’t love you. He was the toy soldier who didn’t know where his feelings came from. He was the heartless Harbinger who brought only the suffering of his past to those around him. His hatred spread like a disease. He could not risk infecting you with the same sins that destroyed him. And on top of it all, Scaramouche did not have a heart. Every fleeting emotion that had ever rooted itself in his nonexistent heart must not exist, either.

“You survived with your heart. Ruined, I guess. But real.” You looked at him. “Do you not have a heart, Scaramouche?” He tsked, but you knew his words held no bite. “Have you memorized my anatomy?”

He shook his head and chuckled. “I don’t have a heart. I never did. For five hundred years, I dedicated myself to a voyage to find and reclaim my missing heart. But I never got close to achieving my goal. And my journey… only resulted in the death of someone dear to me.”

Scaramouche was but a shattered porcelain doll. His bones rusted as his blood seeped through the cracks. He was a bloodied man, drenched head to toe in crimson. He did not deserve to heal.

You sat with him for a while, basking in the gentle night breeze. Your hair flowed with the same tranquility your face carried. After a moment to yourself, your hand slowly found its way to his. “Let us heal,” you smiled; genuinely, this time. “This time, we will rewrite our fate.”

Scaramouche turned his head toward the sky, his eyes flicking over the fake stars that hung proudly in the air. “Even if our fate was predetermined?” You nodded. He looked down at the spot where his heart should be. “Do you have what it takes to love the heartless?” “Does the heartless have what it takes to love?” “If I say yes?” His hand gripped yours. “Then I’ll show you how I love the heartless.”

Perhaps feelings truly can emerge from a heart that does not exist. Perhaps the right people can make a missing heart beat. Scaramouche was certain this time he would not be betrayed.

A/N: For a friend. If you’re reading this, I truly hope you could enjoy this fic.