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florenceisfalling · 2 years

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waiting for the sky to fall

the yeehaw egos au is basically a self-indulgent little scramble of ideas based off of the thought: what if the egos were modern rural texans? seeing as that is where im from :) this first little bit exists without context, there shall be more but im not sure if i'll add chapters or write separate works. but this one is 4500 or so words. the pacing is kinda weird, since i started writing it back in june and got lost somewhere between then and now.

warnings for brief mentions of drug use and alcohol, and somewhat more direct talk abt homophobia - including mentions of a shitty father who is neglectful and intolerant at best.

marvin meets chase's daughter on a sunny day.

➳➵➸➼➽

The sun is just at the point in the sky where its light encroaches on the porch’s shadow, and Marvin has to pull his toes back a little closer to the wooden rocking chair in order to avoid the heat. He hums and turns back to squint through the window screen, catching 4:33 PM on the clock in the kitchen. Eventually, the sun will dip far enough below the shingled awning for the light to hit his eyes directly, lighting up the flakes of gold that rest in his irises, and he’ll have to go inside; for now, his red sunglasses are enough to block it out. He uses one finger to prop them up a little higher til they sit on the scar across the bridge of his nose, then goes back to letting his red-painted nails dry, holding them out on the armrests of the chair and rocking softly back and forth to the sound of cicadas, barking dogs, and the lawn sprinklers.

Soon, another sound joins the chorus, though it’s one less familiar to him. Something bouncing on the concrete, a giggle as the sprinklers turn left across the yard. He opens one eye to see a little girl, quite the ragamuffin in a denim skirt and faded old pink-camo shirt, both stained with grass and dirt and other things unknown. She’s dropped a red kickball on the sidewalk. She lets it roll into the grass so she can spin in dizzy circles as the sprinkler sprays over her, drenching a mess of choppy caramel hair as she finally cools off in the Texas heat.

“Does your mama know you’re wandering by yourself?” Marvin questions from the porch, putting one sandaled foot down to stop his chair from rocking anymore.

The girl hides her startled eyes with a bright smile, a gap-toothed grin of feigned innocence. “Mama’s out of town.”

“And your dad?”

At that, the girl just starts spinning in circles once again, and chases down the sprinkler as it tries to sway rightward. Marvin sighs, takes a sip from an ice-cold glass of lemonade, then speaks again. “Well, do you have a name?”

She spins, and spins, and nearly topples over to the ground when she turns back to face him, eyes not quite focused after making herself into a clumsy little centrifuge. “Darcy Brody. What’s your name?”

“Marvin. Are you a Brody like Charles Brody?”

Charles is not a kind man, nor a fun man, entirely unlike Darcy. Most of his interaction with Marvin consists of loathing glares and on more than one occasion a drunken exchange of joking insults - or, perhaps more accurately, insulting jokes. Other than that, the two try tirelessly to avoid each other, a hard feat for a duo three blocks away from each other in a tiny, isolating town. The task would be much more difficult if Darcy had any relation to him.

And unfortunately, Darcy nods. “Grandpa Charles was supposed to watch me, but he’s taking a nap. The house was boring by myself…”

“Well, you ought to go back inside. You’re too young to run around so close to the road,” Marvin chides, ready to close his eyes and go back to relaxing in his rocking chair.

Darcy’s gaze falls to her feet, kicking a bit at the wet grass with her clogs. “I can’t open the door.”

He hardly stifles a groan, “You locked yourself out?”

She nods. “But Dad said I go home at five.”

“Will he pick you up?”

One more nod, and Marvin mirrors the movement. “D’you know your daddy’s phone number, then?”

“I know there’s a number five in it… and that’s it.”

He hums in response, sitting up out of his rocking chair and tapping his nails to make sure they’re dried. “Alright, I’m not gonna be the one to wake your grandpa up. He hates me already… Tell you what, you wait right there, honey, don’t get any closer to the road. I’ll be right back.”

She nods, then plops down on the grass, as a promise not to stray too close to the cars. Most of her hair falls into her face over her now-closed eyes, the water sprays over her again, and she seems perfectly content to cool off right there. The pink in her shirt is starting to turn green with grass stains, but she doesn’t mind one bit.

Marvin smiles and leaves the chair to rock all alone, then slams the back of his heel against the door with his elbow holding down the handle. The warped frame sticks, but finally gives way with a quiet crack. The front room is all dramatic business, decorated with tapestries and sun-faded sheer print curtains, crystals and stained glass hanging in every window. Hints of the ugly plastic bug screens still show through, but only a little. A stacked deck of tarot cards, two empty teacups, a covered crystal ball, and an unlit candelabrum lay still on the center table, waiting for an anxious adulterer, superstitious traveler, or daring teenager to ask their advice. Marvin leaves his dusty shoes by the door. Lazily he shuffles through the beads and curtains guarding the hallway, revealing the more honest half of the building - all his personal rooms, including the hall closet he currently approaches.

Behind the broom and dustpan, and a bundle of woven grocery bags shoved ungracefully inside each other, sits a hefty cardboard box neatly labeled “YARD SHIT” in purple permanent marker. Marvin shoves everything else out of the way and rips open the most busted flap at the top of the box, happy to see his bag of sidewalk chalk is exactly where he left it: tossed right on top of a broken pink plastic flamingo and a particularly grumpy looking garden gnome.

He grabs the bag and pumps it into the air like an athlete raising a new trophy gripped with white knuckles, then stands fully back up and swings the closet door shut. He puts his shoes back on once he reaches the front doorway. After a moment to appreciate the air conditioner, far preferable to the heat outside, he finally makes it back out to the blistering sunset. Relieved to see Darcy still splayed under the sprinkler, he grabs his glass of lemonade from beside the rocking chair and leaves the creaky porch for the cement driveway.

Darcy leans up when she sees a tall shadow cast across her grassy resting spot, turning to curiously raise her eyebrows at Marvin.

“Here you go, Miss Brody! Brought you something to keep you busy.”

He drops the bag of chalk from the crook of his elbow, letting the contents roll out all over the concrete. As soon as the sight registers in Darcy’s eyes, she darts over to the shady side of the driveway, scooping up an orange piece of chalk and testing out the color. Marvin slowly sits criss-cross next to her, careful not to spill his drink, then picks up a green chalk. “I take it your grandpa doesn’t have much of this sort of thing?”

Darcy shakes her head, starting to sketch out the shape of a goldfish. “Nope. And the only board games he owns are about math and stuff.”

“Oh, my, not math and stuff!” Marvin exaggeratedly gasps, starting his own drawing with a looping figure eight. He briefly glances up from his handiwork to stare over at Charles’ house, making sure Darcy can be seen from the eldest Brody’s porch as well as the road. “That doesn’t sound very fun at all! But you can have this chalk when you go home, so you won’t get bored if you stay at his house again.”

“Really?” Darcy asks, scribbling some fins on her fishy drawing.

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll make sure your dad takes ‘em when he picks you up. I never really use these anyway.”

Despite his words, he starts to doodle more details on his picture. Another parallel line curving with the first, ending in a set of fangs, a shiny eye drawn in black. Darcy takes the black piece from beside Marvin, and uses it to draw a round bowl around her goldfish. Once satisfied, she starts to fill it with bright blue water and tiny white bubbles. “Are you drawing a snake?”

Marvin hums out a quiet, distracted “mhm.” The snake bites at its own tail, so he picks up a thin sliver of a broken red chalk to start drawing a forked tongue.

“What’s its name?”

“Ouroboros, from an Egyptian story.” It’s a simple explanation, but small children most often don’t need to understand ancient metaphors for endless cycles of creation and destruction.

Darcy’s face lights up with recognition just enough, though. “Teacher said Egypt has lots of sand, and big pyramids, too. Have you ever been there?”

The man smiles. “No, it’s a little too far away… how about your goldfish, does it have a name?”

“Oh, it’s just called Goldfish,” she solemnly states, as the topic is quite serious to her. She adds some waves to the top of the blue water. “Fish don’t need names, because they don’t talk very much.”

Marvin nods quite sagely, agreeing with her thoughts. He can’t argue with that logic.

➳➵➸➼➽

It took about twenty more minutes for Darcy’s dad to arrive, pulling in front of Charles’ house in a dented-up car with three rows of seats and far too many bumper stickers. Marvin quickly waved him over and explained the situation, while Darcy kept on coloring her fish. By 5:00 PM, she had completed many more aquatic creatures, with creative names like “Shark,” “Crab,” and “Dolphin,” and had just begun to draw a new kind of animal she invented. She titled it “Sillyfish.”

With no desire to interrupt her masterpiece, her father and Marvin struck up a conversation instead of parting ways. The newcomer to town awkwardly introduced himself as Chase, a name his mother picked as a compromise so that his father wouldn’t insist on calling him Charles Junior. Chase looks like he was from an entirely different world than the boring Charles, decked out in a colorful tie-dye shirt and yellow sneakers, a row of about 9 tangled-up friendship bracelets stacked on his wrist, a patchy baseball hat, and a smiley face pin hanging lopsided from his pocket. The only thing he has in common with his father is a pair of matching eyebags, dark and heavy under his long blonde lashes.

“Thank you for taking care of Darcy,” he awkwardly says, glaring in the direction of the home she was supposed to be in. “I swear I’m gonna chew my dad out for at least an hour - I hope he doesn’t drive you too crazy, as your neighbor.”

Marvin waves him off, “He’s quite alright, what’s got you worried about him?”

“Oh, come on,” Chase grins. “He’s a total hardass on everybody.”

That only earns a stiff laugh, and Chase tries to coax more out of Marvin. “He used to half-jokingly say he should’ve beat me senseless because I wore… what was it… ‘too much lavender.’ Sorry for doubting his politeness towards you.”

He makes a little waving gesture with his hands, drawing attention to Marvin’s now-sparkly fingertips.

Ah. A bit of a frown pulls at Marvin’s face, but he shrugs. “Oh, it’s not as if I’m unaccustomed to it. On the bright side, most the Puritans in town are too worried about my evil witchcraft to be primarily concerned about the…glamor.”

Chase’s gaze leaves Marvin’s sharp features to drift over the house instead - getting a proper look at the neon sign shaped like an eye in the window, the Christmas lights hung around the patio, the sprawling word PSYCHIC in bold, tacked to the roof and painted with stars. Darcy pulls his sight away by tugging on the ankle hem of his jeans, trying to show off her next drawing, but a moment and a compliment later he’s already back to staring at the charming decor. “All that magic and mojo, that’s s’pposedly real?”

Marvin gives him a mischievous grin back. “Sure thing.”

“Oh, bull.” Chase says. “You’re shittin’ me.”

“Dad! Language!” Darcy scolds, slamming down her chalk with a scowl.

Marvin fake pouts, crossing his arms in a mockery of offense. “I would never lie to such a good man as yourself, Mr. Brody.”

That itself is a terrible lie, but it isn’t like Chase would believe him even if he was telling the truth. He scoffs, shakes his head, a playful smile still lighting up his face. Darcy is now staring between the both of them, curious as ever.

“I’ll prove it to you,” Marvin offers, one eyebrow raised. “I’ll even give you a discount.”

Chase finally breaks into full laughter, sighing in relent and shifting to pull his wallet from his back pocket. “How much I owe you, then?”

“Five bucks sound good?”

Stubby fingers rifle through the worn bills, before producing a ten. “Extra’s for the babysitting fee,” he teases, ruffling Darcy’s hair.

➳➵➸➼➽

Inside the house is much cooler in temperature, a welcome change to the sweat rolling like a river down Chase’s back. Darcy sits enraptured with the books on the shelf, flipping through fairytale illustrations and charts of the stars, while Chase has a couple of thoughts tumbling through his brain regarding Marvin’s choice of interior design.

“Ain’t that a fire hazard?”

Marvin furrows his brows. “Which part?”

Gaze trailing from the layers upon layers of fabric draped about, the candles scattered around every surface, the crystals hanging near the sunlit window… Chase shrugs. “All of it?”

The magician pulls out a chair for Chase, with an awful scraping noise against the thin and creaking wood floorboards. He drums his nails against the back of it and waits for his guest to sit, though Chase does so with a bit of hesitation. “Well, I’m sure the place won’t burn down in the next couple minutes. You should be perfectly safe.”

However unsure he may be, Chase still laughs, and tries to relax in the chair, arms wrapping around himself despite how warm he was before he came inside.

“Don’t tell me you’re nervous,” Marvin teases. He’s now across the table from Chase, and the latter of the two is becoming increasingly aware of just how much he has to crane his neck upward to meet Marv’s eyes.

“I- I’ve just never done this sorta thing before. Well, aside from a Ouija board in seventh grade.”

Marvin pouts, only a little. “It’s a fortune, Chase, not an interrogation. All you have to do is sit there and relax.”

“Alright, alright,” he capitulates, releasing the tension in his shoulders and shaking out his arms a moment. Once he’s settled, he leans forward, intertwining his fingers to rest his scruffy chin on his knuckles, and rest his elbows on the table.

With a gentle sigh, the magician lets a smile drift back onto his own face. “Good. Now…” he turns his attention to Darcy for just another moment, “My dear, could you promise to stay quiet down there for a little while?”

She nods solemnly, content now to flip through an old Cicely Mary Barker book of flower fairies, and mind a bit of her own magic.

“Thank you kindly.”

And with that, Marvin leans his head back on the chair. His sunglasses are now pulled up over his forehead, keeping his reddish hair from falling into his face. For a moment, he lets his eyelids stay shut. The breath he exhales seems to leave the room shuddering along with it, settling into its comfortable place. With it, he stretches his legs and relaxes. As if to open the gates to his heart, or unfurling some unseen map, his arms spread wide on the tabletop.

When he opens his eyes, the candles flicker with life between the two men, though they weren’t before. Chase looks startled, as if he was going to ask how - but is soon caught on another sight, stumbling over his astonishment - “Y- your eyes…”

Usually, guests come at night, when the shadows play more tricks. Sometimes, though, they see what Chase sees now: Marvin’s pupils blown inhumanly wide, like a cat trying to take in as much light as possible in a dim room.

Marvin presses a single slender finger to his own lips, shhh. Then, he trails his hand slowly across some invisible thread to the velvet cover on the crystal ball, pulling it away with a flick of his wrist. “Just parlor tricks, Mr. Brody. Try to focus.”

The look on Chase’s face tells Marvin that it will be a much harder task for him than anticipated, but Marv doesn’t mind. He finds the awestruck expression to be rather endearing. He almost giggles, though he feels a bit guilty, when he reaches across to take Chase’s right hand by the wrist and the poor guest practically flinches.

Still, Marvin guides him along, and Chase soon rests his calloused palm smoothly against the clear surface. Marvin places his own hands on the other side. When the magician takes a deep breath, sitting up straighter to stare into the globe, his guest naturally follows suit. Half a minute passes in near silence. The only sound remaining in the room is the papers moving while Darcy continues her quiet reading.

Marvin interrupts the tranquil, drags his hands away.

“Let me see his strings of fate.”

And with that, the magic obeys.

In the distorted light, a mirage comes to life. Two figures dancing across from what looks like kitchen cabinets, hand in hand dipping back and forth like a boat rocking on the sea. A child, maybe Darcy, scrambling after a cottontail rabbit. Sparklers leaving glimmering trails to red dirt, and the tiny snap of tweezers pinching closed. There’s the grit of soil, and the haze of grill smoke, and the crispness of cobbler baking in the oven.

“It’s lovely,” Marvin sighs, offering Chase just a hint of what he sees through his words. “Though you’re clumsy, Chase, you need to practice your two-step.”

Before the subject can further draw his attention away, Marvin searches deeper. This time, he speaks aloud.

“Charles is awake now. You’ve got a six pack of Shiner in the back of your car right now, and you’ll almost forget it when you go into the house. Darcy, very excited, will tell you she saw something in the woods-” he tries to read the shape of her mouth, though the image is hazy - “something I believe she’s calling a fairy. I don’t know when. And the next time you argue, your wife won’t yell back.”

He doesn’t question the last thing, only pressing forward into the thick of the magic. He swears the room grows brighter with every breath.

“You’ll find new friends here - your path is very intertwined with this place. Meeting someone at the motel, finding someone at the church… someone very…very shaky…? Wait a moment, that…”

The room doesn’t grow brighter this time. Marvin forgets how to breathe.

Chase nearly pulls away, but stops himself. “Is everything okay? You look lost.”

Something is not right about the man in the church pews. The images start flickering faster in the crystal, and Marvin’s hands begin to twitch.

There’s blood spilling over a stair, a shadow looming over it before a steel-toed boot comes crashing down into the red. Bony fingers with dirt-tipped nails pluck at fiddle strings. A silver pistol barrel first rests pressed against Chase’s temple, but traces down his jaw instead. Chains rattle and then tug tight in a steel hook. Tiny, dirty mud boots, decorated with pastel hearts, trample over the garden flowers, and leave behind prints that trail into the dark woods. Black ink seems to drip from the top of the scrying tool. It spills over its curved surface and pools inside.

“Marvin?”

The visions vanish, and are replaced by the image of a single, glowing green eye in the surface of the crystal ball, watching back at Marvin, whose heart is slamming against his ribcage in ecstatic terror.

“Marvin!”

Finally, he breaks away from his stupor, and stares Chase down. He remembers at last to inhale, exhale, stretch his fingers taut from his palms and force them to stop trembling. Chase looks equally disturbed, hand no longer anywhere near the crystal ball - which was clear quartz just a moment ago, but now looks more like something made from obsidian.

“What the fuck kinda parlor trick was that, Marvin?”

The candelabrum flames die of their own accord. Darcy turns to her father in a scandalized state, slamming down the worn copy of Flower Fairies of the Summer to put her tiny hands over her ears. Once more, she berates him - “Watch your language!”

Neither man even looks at her, but Marvin collects himself enough to respond, face devoid of any perceived emotion. “Darcy, your grandpa’s up. Go knock on his door, please, get your stuff to go home with your dad.”

“But I wasn’t done reading-”

“Please, Darcy,” Marvin tries again. There's just a twinge of force in his voice.

She doesn’t move, not until her father nods in agreement. Once she has set the book back on the cluttered shelf, she dusts off her skirt and heads out, eager to pick up her new pile of chalk from outside. Her skipping steps have only faded off the porch for a moment before Chase is already back to his interrogation. At least he’s quieter, now, leaning over to half-whisper it in disbelief, “Are you high off your ass?”

Marvin shakes his head. “You need to leave.”

Chase leans away, pale eyelashes drawing closer as his brow furrows. “No. No, what are you on? Your eyes look like -”

“No, not ‘leave my house’. Leave town. And fast.”

Marvin is now up out of his chair, searching around the room for something he was hoping he wouldn’t have to use again. He remembers in his pacing where he tucked it months ago, and leans down to a low wooden cabinet on the opposite side of the room; when opened on its squeaking hinges, dust and cobwebs frame the entrance. He reaches inside and pulls out a thick black tarp, wrapped around something heavy. With none of his usual grace, he turns and drops it into the chair he was sitting in before.

“Leave t- why?”

Marvin raps his knuckles against the edge of the crystal ball, now too dark to be transparent. “Whatever brought you back to this place is something very nasty. I can see that now.” Then, he begins to unwrap the plastic tarp, revealing the weight inside - a hardwood-handled sledgehammer with a rusted ten-pound head.

Chase finally stands, shoving the chair back into its place beneath the table. It clatters against the uneven floor, warped wood threatening to splinter. “Yes, sure! Fine! We moved here because my brother-in-law died - dark, I know! Still, that doesn’t explain why I need to leave - or why you’re acting so batshit!”

“Your brother-in-law was a García, wasn’t he?” Marvin asks in a casual monotone, though it’s more of a certain statement than a real question. He sets the hammer on the table, and yanks the tarp open, shaking out the dust and splaying it wrinkled across the floor.

That stops Chase in his tracks, and he drops the defensive tone for just a moment. “Yeah, h- why?”

“Because-” interrupting himself with a groan, Marvin hefts the crystal ball off of its stand and leaves it in the center of the tarp - “It wasn’t an accident. I know who killed him, and I saw him again in your own future.”

Back to the accusatory tone, Chase’s mouth falls open in shock. “Bullshit! I didn’t see any of that!”

“Chase.” With a good bit of effort, Marvin swings the sledgehammer over his own shoulder, fierce and now-slitted eyes piercing into Chase’s heart. It’d be nice to imagine that the magician’s gaze was enough to intimidate him into taking a few steps back, but the large metal tool probably did most of the work there. “Nobody sees their own future. Now stand back.”

And once Chase listens, Marvin flips his sunglasses back over his eyes, like a last resort for protection. Then, he lifts the hammer and swings it down on the crystal ball hard.

It doesn’t shatter in a messy spray across the room, instead splitting in fractals with an awful crunch and dropping to the ground in a couple of pieces. Whatever has happened to it, it isn’t quartz anymore. There isn’t any light or clarity left in it, just shadow and jagged edges.

Once the job is done, Marvin drops the sledgehammer to the ground by the remnants of destruction, though it seems to shake the walls. He sighs, and turns to Chase, looking pale and a moment away from crumbling himself. “If you won’t leave town, at least take some of my advice. Don’t leave your kids with someone as absentminded as your father. Keep your eyes open, and talk to Henrik at the vet’s office when you need help.”

“The vet?” Chase laughs for just a single breath, discomfort and shock still clear. Despite the fact that the hammer is no longer being wielded, his body still trembles in alarm.

Marvin’s face doesn’t change, set in stone with a practiced determination. “Yes, the vet. He’s good at stitches.”

They stare at each other for another few moments. Chase looks like he’s seen a ghost, though Marvin’s the only one in the room who’s really seen several.

“I still don’t believe you,” Chase mumbles, his voice missing any of the frustration and volume it had before. He sounds more like he’s reassuring himself than speaking the truth.

Marvin shrugs, slumping against the table and turning to face the wreckage of the crystal ball. It’s not the only one he’s had to break so far in these past few years.

“Fine. But no refunds.”

Once the silence has continued long enough for Chase to feel safe leaving, he stumbles past the psychic and back out the door.

➳➵➸➼➽

The ride back to the late Javier García’s old ranch is quiet, and uncomfortable, the trees seeming to loom in their headlight silhouettes as if reaching out for the Brody family car. Darcy starts the drive restless, shaking around her bag of chalk, but is asleep with her face pressed against the window by the time they pull past the fence and down the bumpy road.

Chase replays the evening over a million times in his head, trying to imagine how he’ll tell Stacy. If he’ll tell Stacy. He doesn’t understand what happened enough to repeat it for her, so he decides to tell her an abridged version. One that lends itself to more believable ideas - just some clever little actor trying to scare Chase into falling for magic.

He’s so busy thinking over it, in fact, that as he walks a drowsy Darcy across the stone path to the front porch, he almost forgets that he left the Shiner six-pack sitting in the back of his car. Waiting, just as promised by that clever little actor.

Just a coincidence, surely.

#jse egos #yeehaw egos #chase brody #marvin the magnificent #texan au #my ego posts #my writing #my fics

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ooglywooglies · 4 months

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was watching a video yesterday about the wandering son

the girl presenting the video was talking about the different experiences of the little trans boy and the little trans girl growing up and about how the little trans boy had less push back when it came to his boyish interests than the trans girl with her girly interests and how trans boys must then have an easier time presenting as masculine/"fitting into the tomboy space"

and it sort of made me feel annoyed and i talked with my husband about it (hes cis if that matters) and we came to the conclusion that trans boys showing interest in boy hobbies DO get push back, it just doesnt come in the form of getting scolded, its more passive

like when i was a kid one of my big gender memories is one time i was having christmas at my aunts house and she had girl and boy presents prepared, the boy presents were legos which i wanted i loved legos but no one was ever willing to buy them for me and the girl present... was hair clips... not even a toy and i complained about it because even if i wasnt a little trans boy i dont think that was very fair and everyone brushed me off

i think a lot of having boy interests as a little trans boy gets push back in the form of just straight up being ignored and that probably applies to a lot of aspects of the experiences of being a trans man

im kind of a general kid of neglect so i have a LOT of experience with being ignored in a LOT of different ways from vital figures and i of course have struggled with the "its not real abuse because its not physically violent" sort of thing

obviously ive been thinking about this bc something about a "transandrophobia" post is apparently floating around (idk which one it is specifically) and i mostly think the term is silly and unnecessary i feel like it was obvious that trans men and women have different experiences and most people know that, but while i dont think it needs a name (especially a dumb one like that) i hope most people dont also think that trans men inherently have a better time with being trans just because they dont have the same problems as trans women

i dont see much about the "transmasc community" if such a thing even exists bc like i was saying in another post i mostly seem to surround myself with transfems, but from my perspective there must be some kind of constant tension between the two groups, i guess i ought not to speculate why that is because i dont know shit but i FEEL like theres some kind of misunderstanding from both parties at the root

#i think i should start keeping a tag for these #trans text #maybe

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constellaj · 3 years

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I do adore your gay Lucky in Love rewrite. But I do wonder how you do a rewrite within the actual episode. Such as Dash's POV of the water park shenanigans (I'm convinced that that the water guns are filled with soda, to get the sprayie sticky) and Dash's POV of the "We're dating now!" hallway moment (maybe Kawn can ask Dash if he's okay) and begrudgingly acknowledging that "Paulina" likes Danny (the look on Dash's face and the "jerk, I mean pal")

I would say that the thing that ought to be redone in Lucky in Love is the characters motivations, for nearly all of them at points in the episode.

I do not buy that Johnny would have wondering eyes when he so devoted to Kitty, and the whole "to make the ex jealous" is a lame trope and Kitty was way to affectionate to Danny for that. I would buy that moving from the ghost zone to the real world is stressful adjustment (hiding from the Fenton ghost hunters and such) could inspire fights and they break-up. And Kitty tries to be on her own for awhile but doesn't know how to handle that, and gets re-bound feelings for the only other eligible ghost-boy around (which Shadow catches wind of which makes him furious and he tries to kill Danny before Kitty make "horrible mistake"). Kitty should have purposefully picked Paulina to possess because she's a high-profile girl who Danny is already crushing on and mean enough to "not deserve" to be in control. And when Danny finds out the truth, I think Kitty could have added the threat of physically hurting if he didn't comply (such as I like Kitty, she has zero qualms about completely taking over others girls lives and expending them, which is scary).

The A-list being a literal exclusive club with limited members is too dumb to be silly. But friend groups splintering and shifting due to one or more friends changing, or when newly-dating teens unintentionally neglect their friendships, is something I do buy. Dash could be so livid about his best-female-friend suddenly and inexplicably dating his crush that he becomes unbearable to be around even for Kwan, who might want to try to make new friends, and give Sam and Tucker a try.

As for Danny, when he found out that Paulina was being possessed by a girl ghost the whole time, it seemed that his initial concern was getting Paulina back in control of her own body, which is the correct response. But then it shifted to him feeling "suffocated" by Kitty. His discomfort should have stayed on the fact that Paulina was being dated against her will, which should make Danny feel sick with guilt.

This turned out longer than expected. You can pick and choose what to respond to if at all.

----

(tl;dr for anyone who doesn’t know my lucky-in-love-but-gay rewrite:

Johnny and Kitty are taking a couples’ break, and Shadow, who feeds on romance, is whining like a spoiled dog about it. Shadow goes to find another hopeless romantic to possess to eat up love, and encounters Dash watching the romance channel. Dash gets more and more flirtatious, ghostly, and adopts a biker aesthetic as Shadow pulls at his emotions; not fully possessing him, but amplifying his feelings. Shenanigans ensue when Dash can’t decide if he has a bigger crush on Phantom or Fenton. Danny has to find a way to get Shadow out of Dash before Dash becomes reliant on him. Kitty needs to get Shadow back because, if Johnny doesn’t have Shadow, he becomes much more vulnerable.

biker dash art / full ep post)

this is all super fucking inch resting and im publishing this so the rest of the world can see but like generally speaking i think lucky in love is a shit fucking episode all around and it really can’t be saved. johnny and kittys dynamic is so petty and so inherently “Haha i hate my wife right boomers” that I cannot accept it as a way anyone would actually act and for that I don’t think the episode could ever really be ��good.” I like to think of johnny and kitty as hapless mushy lovebirds. their only ‘couple fights’ are saying things like

{ID: a discord script I had with @crystalfloe. it reads: Johnny: Well what do you want me to DO? You know you’re at fault too here- what about all those road trips huh, constant road trips with you snuggling me from behind?

Kitty, scowling: You gave me a BLACK ROSE on my birthday, you KNOW that’s my favorite color!

Johnny: Yeah, you got me the EXACT part I was wanting for my bike even though I only said the name once! You just REMEMBERED!

Danny: Woah hey let’s not fight here.... does this count as fighting?

Kitty: YOU spent the entire day I was sick making me food even though you had a BOYS NIGHT planned!

Johnny: YOU’RE just a BEAUTIFUL LOVING PERFECT PERSON! And now Shadow’s a glutton for ROMANCE!

Kitty: Well maybe if YOU weren’t so SELF SACRIFICIAL and full of UNBRIDLED CARE AND INTIMACY he WOULDN’T BE!

Johnny: How DARE you say I’m the more loving one and therefore the PROBLEM-

Kitty: I’m really starting to hate you and your CUTE FACE, Johnny!

Johnny: Yeah- well, I’m starting to get real sick of your adorable EYES, Kitty!

End ID.}

If you want to rewrite Lucky in Love, to me, you have two options: absolutely decimate canon, or work within it. Decimating canon (ie, making Dash gay) comes with also deconstructing Johnny and Kitty’s toxic relationship into something actually worth rooting for, which in turn unravels the entire episode because the premise is... it’s a bad relationship. If you want to work within canon, the episode as is is pretty much the best you can get, because no way in hell would they let Dash be gay in canon.

While your takes are interesting, it’s not the kind of media I personally would like; the whole “Kitty could have added the threat of physically hurting if he didn't comply“ doesn’t sit well with me at all, so I can’t say it’s something I would ever engage with, personally.

Also, I don’t need canon to be 100% serious all the time, personally I love the bit about the A-Listers having a formal club with like, paperwork and stuff, it’s genuinely funny and also provides a nice clean-cut metaphor for how Danny as an “unpopular” kid might view the way the popular kids work. I don’t think the writers thought that was actually how popular kids work, I think they were playing with it and expanding on how a kid might see it.

You’re right that the focus of the episode should have been on Paulina’s bodily autonomy, which I think the OG was lacking in even as is because we didn’t get anything from Paulina’s POV; she’s treated more as a prop than a person, which, yikes.

But in summary, while this is interesting, none of it is how I would rewrite lucky in love if given the chance; if canon-divergent, I’d probably tweak the biker dash concept; if canon-compliant, I’d try to make it more of a jokey episode, maybe making the conflict between Kitty and Johnny a “I have to get him a secret birthday present without him knowing” instead of a “I am going to make him jealous by cheating on him.”

#danny phantom #ask #unsure-sincerity #adpRewrite

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rouiyan · 4 years

Text

𝘖𝘝𝘌𝘙𝘊𝘈𝘚𝘛 𝘚𝘒𝘐𝘌𝘚 𝘈𝘕𝘋 𝘛𝘏𝘖𝘚𝘌 𝘞𝘏𝘖 𝘋𝘐𝘌 [ 𝘭.𝘫𝘯 ]

⧏ the second volume of rouiyan’s debut series, till death do us part ⧐

synopsis: “i will keep you,” he says softly, as sweet as black tea, “and i will keep you warm.” (Catherynne M. Valente, Deathless)

✧ prince!lee jeno x crown princess!reader ✧ royalty au

✧ genres : fluff, angst ✧ word count : 5.0k ✧ disclaimers : brief descriptions of nudity (nothing sexual), allusions to sex (nothing explicit), malintent

read volume one here: of the heart.

when the moon, in all her glory, begins to set, Mother Nature begins each new day by inhaling the misfortunes of the day before and blowing out frigid breaths in their stead. this morning is no exception for nothing is so clear as the wisps of fog that lie just beyond the horizon, a velarium of sorts, over the forest canopy. the sun is a little early today, but it is for naught, since its rays are caught between the tendrils of fog right as they begin to show. perhaps Mother Nature woke up in a bit of a fit today, seeing as the skies are already oozing the grays before the blues have yet to surface. Her fingers gently stir the clouds to ensure that they collide right where the earth most needs it and She's joyful in the sense that Her work can be admired from far down below. after all, the paintings She conjures in the skies are nothing short of masterpieces.

like a ceiling folding in with the pressure of water leakage, the clouds from down below give off an air of distress. the air itself is heavily encumbered with a clarity found only after the rainiest of days. and if not for the sake of the story, the author could spend hours droning on about Mother Nature's tour de force, she really would, but instead she will insert a few lines from a symphony:

The autumn mist drifts blue over the lake,

The blades of grass stand covered with frost,

The flowers' sweet scent is gone,

An icy wind bends down their stems,

My heart is weary.

Der Einsame im Herbst (The lonely one in autumn), from Mahler’s Das Lied von der Erde

in the exact opposite sense that Mother Nature loves her leaves, with tender fondness and a forgiving hand, prince jeno's father has never loved his second son more, with an impassioned sneer and a bagful of riches in mind. at least, that is exactly what prince jeno himself thinks as he skims through yet another letter, this time from his father.

son,

never did i think i would enjoy the prospect of a winter ceremony as much as i would this, perhaps you would also like to see an early coronation. i've made the necessary arrangements, i assure that you will not be suspected in the least but keep caution and wariness by your side, our family name is already a great deal tainted. thought not for long, i'll be sending a carriage to retrieve you for your rounds back home, we've ought to get going on them. the damsel is a sight for sore eyes, i presume, i'd hate for her to foil our ambitions; she is much in your hands to attend to now. i'll see you by the throne soon, my lad.

king of the southern mines, your father.

the prince's vision narrows upon the words 'coronation, arrangements, suspected, foil, throne,' and he is already a sight of frustration, fingers gripping the paper with such force that his short nails are digging into his palms through it. seething, he tears his eyes from the script before him but instead, they land on the previous letter sat atop the open escritoire. the one from his mother. the stamped edge of the paper lifts with the wind that filters through the window just above it and he has the sudden urge to let it be carried away wholly. jeno crosses the room in four steps.

with both the pages collected in his hands, jeno crouches by the mantle, the roar of a fire licking up before him. his face is drawn in concentration, jaw stiff and clenched. the lines of his brows are met with a furrow in between, set above the meek lines of his eyelids. his pupils dilate, albeit out of habitual need, in the reflection of the inferno before him. he's ever-so-aware of the distinct scent of burning coals that siphon and sharpen his reminiscence of home. it's sentient, the feelings of familiarity that overcome his senses, halting his movements, his fingers clutching the papers in a way that almost tells of longing. longing of a seemingly different world entirely, one that he has only ever known until a few weeks prior. being washed anew in distant lands and over the course of a single lunation, jeno finds that he's never felt more mismatched from himself, disconnected from the people who raised him in contrast to the people who have brought out the better in him. but the embers are not the only thing he smells, not the only he sees, or heeds to.

the pearly carrara marble of the mantle tells stories in the grayed lines that trail across its posh surface. his eyes rove over the white, the faith and purity of your heraldry binded with the emblem of your family. the white of angels, of untainted relations, sterility in empowerment, the inviolable you. the white tells stories that the black never could.

so jeno finds a warm pleasure in the way the flames overwhelm the papers with eager enthusiasm, the damned words of his parents receding into mere ash. prince jeno thinks he could forever part with the world if it asked him to feast his eyes on this very sight until the end of time.

despite arousing before the sun, you are disappointed when it starts to chase your wakefulness. there is something edging the growing unease in your mind, as if time is trickling down the drain of the past, too fast and too unforgiving. as if time is berating at your senses, telling you there is much more than what meets the eye but for the life of you, you cannot pinpoint what. for now though, you tend to the pressing matters at hand, jeno has been called home for his rounds, rather abruptly.

"perhaps i should go with you, rounds don't always have to be made by one per-”

jeno cuts you off effectively, "they are very much a one person duty," he assures pointedly. your nose scrunches, the light inconveniences starting to rub off on your exasperation. in a tired voice you mumble, "we could always change it up a bit, i'm sure." jeno chuckles heartily at that, his hand coming up from his side to rub out the lines of stress in your forehead.

"little miss princess, you're saying that as if you do not have rounds to complete of your own. i'm almost certain you host are a far greater amount of people that wish to be invited to the ceremony than i have-"

it's your turn to cut him off now, "why don't you stay with me then?" in attempts to enhance the force of your resolve, you uncover a hand of your own from under the sheets to comb through his locks. the way his eyes instantly close to relish in your touch paired with the little purr he gives is almost telltale of your victory. almost.

jeno pauses, his eyes flicker back open, and a soft knowing smile runs along the features of his face as he shakes his head, in knowledge of your artful tactics to wear him down. "and neglect my kingdom and their desires?"

you've left the feelings of frustration behind, instead deciding to fool around with the boy, to see what you can get out of him for good fun, "but we've yet to decide what flowers to use as centerpieces. and whether we're throwing a private or public ball. wedding preparations are surely more important than handing out personal invites…we can cut corners one some niceties." jeno knows better than to let his guard down. the jeno around y/n isn't to be trusted as easily. he settles for words of comfort instead, "i'll write."

"well, that's of course. silly of you to voice something as unequivocal as that."

a pause and his resolve is slipping, "maybe a few short visits back wouldn't hurt." you lick your lips in good-natured fun, another pause, "i'm sure my father wouldn't half mind if we cut it a week short." your eyes look hazy to him, though in reality they are simply amused, and drawing words from him he isn't even sure he's saying. "or- or maybe i could convince him, or try to at least…," he trails on and on.

your satisfied a certain amount and, suppressing a smile from giving away your plotted schemes, you mutter quietly, mostly for your own pondering, "i'm thinking alliums would make a statement, blue alliums." jeno gives a noise of confusion, unsure of how you've suddenly come to talk of flowers. "the centerpieces, i mean." jeno's silence only urges you on, "alliums, or blue alliums at that, are symbols of unity and good fortune. i think that'd make a nice combination with a base of milkweed, dignity and freedom, if my memory serves me right."

the prince has found his voice, "what of the rounds?" but he's met with a small chortle, "nothing, a month is a month, i'm sure we'll work around it."

"but, i- i'm not sure i understand. you were adamant enough a millisecond ago, and now-"

"and now i'm telling you i was toying with you, dear sir. such fun it is when you let on more than you'd like."

jeno's cheeks flush, the warm color dusting the bridge of his nose, apples of his cheeks, tips of his ears. your warm smile and benign banter bring him the simplest of joys. he's not sure he's ever felt this way before. familiarity. and, not the familiarity that comes from his assigned butler since birth, or the old lady at the apothecary he's been to all his life that's paid to tend to his wounds. not the familiarity that comes with blood and playing house, the type of sickened familiarity he feels with his brother, doyoung, that every second spent with him is forced. the familiarity he feels with you is by choice, by genuine and sincere desire. you want to wake up in the mornings with him by your side. you want to spend breakfast pushing each other's toes away underneath the table. you want to hold his hand when he walks you to your carriage. you want to make love with him in the most ungodly hours of the day. which is exactly what happens that morning.

a day is barely enough to do all the things you've penned in your journal. things to be done before you were to be married, with the one you were to be married to. the list had been written, curated, and refined by nine-year-old you, who you must say, had some very good ideas, though verily a romanticist.

jeno is departing tomorrow morning, as early as the sun will permit, and suddenly you wish that it would never rise again. whatever the case, you set out first thing this morning, hand tugging along a very tired prince, for the bathing pool. nine-year-old you must have misinterpreted the meaning of 'skinny dipping' for swimming but you thank nine-year-old you because things seem to have worked out in your favor either way. jeno is jolted awake by the gelid water, the seasons now mark three-quarters into fall.

"go in first," you state simply, hands on your hips and eyes drawn down into the water. the single toe you had dipped in to test the waters is frigid and frozen. jeno, who has yet to finish undressing himself, nodded at your words. if he were looking in your direction he would've noticed the smirk on your face. he stands straight, boxers on the ground behind him as he takes place by your side, "cold?"

"not at all, surprisingly," he's looking at you now and your countenance can't help but decompose in front of him, a small, unsuspecting smile adorning your lips. "oh really, can you attest for that?"

the smile is now blossoming unto your cheeks, "are you telling me to go in first?" the prince nods at that, fully aware of your schematics, "yes, i would like to see you enter the warm water."

"you agreed to go in first just a few seconds ago, don't tell me you've backed out on your word," a feeble matter against the boy but he defends himself by saying, "devious little princess, as if this wasn't your idea."

you're equally defensive when you point out, "not me, directly, but rather me as a child-" he pushes you in. lee jeno, second prince of the esteemed southern kingdom pushes you into the subzero degree bathing pool.

assuredly though, he dives in a few seconds after he's had time to relish in your shocked expression and piercing screams. he's coming up for air, his hands have found your bare hips to make sure that you resurface together. or drown together, you think, because it seems his foot is caught in the crevices between two rocks and since he's writhing like a madman, you're writhing with him too. it's a strange sight, two very beautiful individuals, absolutely in love but absolutely inane, for if jeno had thought to let go of his grip on you, you might've been able to unlodge his foot altogether if he had not been set on wrangling both your bodies about.

it's four minutes later that the two of you are on the leveled bronze rock, now, absolutely loosing it over jeno's lack of common sense. both of you are having trouble breathing, spurts of water still occasionally gushing past his lips. he thinks you're most beautiful in your bare skin, with nothing to define you but yourself. he's running his fingers up and down your torso, lips connecting with the surface of your neck. he appreciates that you kiss him with such avidity, you always do. jeno loves that you make it known to him, that what you say, you mean. and that even if you were never to utter a word again, he would still understand the sheer vehemence with which you love him.

you cross off paragliding, building a snowman, and studying together for a test. not because they've been completed but because there simply is no plausible way to get them done with the deadline closing in fast. the next activity you present to jeno has his eyebrows raised in intrigue. he's quick to reply when you ask him.

"a moon, a quartered moon." the knowing smile that grows on your face tells him he's chosen correctly.

jeno gives a squeeze to your hand as the needle comes in contact with your clean skin. the first few minutes are highlighted by the sensation of a million bee stings, racking through your brain, but the rest is relatively smooth sailing. yours comes out just as good as jeno's, a small moon, a quartered moon, tattooed into the skin just behind the left ear. there specifically, so that it's known by each other and each other only.

there will be months passed before the moon becomes a sort of unspoken but affirmative communication instrument. when jeno loves you a little too much, he rubs the inked skin softly. his sleepless nights are cured with the pad of your finger upon the spot. between the many general meetings you're required to oversee in a day, jeno waits outside the conference room for you to exit, his fingers stroking the moon for the duration of the few seconds allotted to him before you're whisked away again. the symbol of night is translated into accounts of bonding, the smallest of things giving way to happiness.

you would say the uses of the 'lovemark' are amplified as the sun retreats and the mascot of your relationship shines brighter than ever. it's evident in the look on jeno's face, especially, a few feet below you, peering up your skirt with a dumbstruck look on his face.

"jeno, dear, now is really not the time." the boy clears his throat and looks away, baffled at how you'd caught him anyways. your position is so frightfully awkward, one foot on the top end of your chamber's windowsill, another bent and hoisted onto the flat ledge of your roof. "come on up now, and get those dirty thoughts out of your mind. for heaven's sake, we're here to watch the sunset and stargaze, not to pound into each other."

the prince laughs at your offhanded remarks, arriving himself on the platform. the view is expansive in the way that you can see the forest from here, the ocean if you squint, the hills set in the far distance, and the sky has never felt closer to the earth while the things you've always known to be near appear smaller and more distant than ever. even the gregarious tree stalks of the forest rise to what could be measured as an only inch from this outlook.

"nine-year-old y/n seems to have known nothing but fun days." jeno muses, leaning his weight back upon his hands. your eyes are glazed in an omniscient mist, "i'd expect so, she was born and raised with everything." the prince picks up on the tone of distaste with which you'd spoken your words. he turns to you and studies the hairs that fall in your eyes, "hardly fair."

you reply not a beat after, "not at all fair. if i were to accomplish one thing during my run as queen, i'd give the children opportunities of a lifetime." the thoughts tumble out of your mind, as if you'd known of this conviction of yours since you were but a child. your drive as a ruler, firm and headstrong to implement your values and beliefs on your subjects has been the sole idea that's grounded you in the castle for your entire time being.

"and what if you cannot?"

your first reply is dealt with in humble humor, "at the very least, i'd like it to be engraved on my tombstone that i tried." the second, is laden with a sorrowful undertone, "housing, schooling, meals and warmth in the winter. we have it the worst here up north. if they are without school, they are left with nothing." jeno's head turns to yours, he sees the slip of a tear and he wipes it away, only to be met with another. your voice cracks in despair, "there are no mining jobs to take up, no farms to harvest, aqueducts to run. i dread that one day i must rule a kingdom of arts."

jeno tries, he really does, to gather you in his arms but your sobs rack your body with such force that he is left to comfort your desolations with words and a hand on your back, "what is there to dread? are the arts so difficult to maintain?"

bitterness forms at the tip of your tongue, "no, jeno. i regress in the face that art is invaluable. but the world seeks to attach a price to every viable thing, to label the passion of others. and now, now the arts are for the rich, only for the rich. have you ever heard of a hungry man paint instead of seeking shelter from the rain? a woman who writes prose instead of feeding her dying children? there is no one who can live solely on art but the heavens have sent me to rule a horde of those very people."

the prince knows you need to voice the thoughts weighing down your mind, so he gives them a platform, a nudge, "a kingdom of arts would be blessed to house a queen with intentions such as yourself, surely there are others who hold the same principles as you."

"no doubt," your eyes cast on the forming stars, "but as much as i would love to trail a path of meliorism and say that with a tide of willingness, there will be change, i must not forget the real nature of the world we live in."

"and what is this nature that you speak of?"

"the drive of greed and sadism, in exchange for the feeblest of pleasures."

the world comes to a still in this very moment. the moon begins her ascent. the stars unsheath their full luminance. the whites of their gleam reflecting on the rooftop on which the two of you are sat. time and space shrivel in the potency of untainted humanity.

"we will bring change, you and i."

you feel your heart calm as your rambling ceases. jeno looks over at you and smiles.

prince jeno is scheduled to return in twenty seven days time. there is something that feels wrong about him leaving. a feeling that if he leaves, all hell with turn loose and you will be unleashed unto the dogs for ravaging. there is a coated and unspoken thought that splutters in your mind whenever you even dare so much as to begin to think of it. the possibility that with jeno's leave, you'll be left with the realization that it was all a phase of infatuation. that when you see him again, all the feelings that you'd built up over the course of a month and a few days was just a glamourized dream. that he was never real; the real that you needed.

"i'll be forever thinking of those lips on mine, maybe even missing them," you let, comically. jeno eyes you conspicuously, "and i'll be forever thinking of you, as a whole, not just the lips unlike you. a little fixated you sounded there, mind you." his little sniggers are given in response to your hands pushing his chest in frisky response. the prince pulls you closer into a final embrace, the coachman of his black carriage is awaiting his departure.

he parts from you and you can't help but trail behind him down the paved path. he's over his shoulder now as you let loose a sliver of your deepest worries, meekly, "i hope we never change, jeno."

the prince halts at the bottom steps that curl into the palace. he sees you, feels you, knows you, for he quotes, “i will keep you,” he says softly, as sweet as black tea, “and i will keep you warm.” (Catherynne M. Valente, Deathless)

jeno can hear the light pellets of raindrops hit the roof of his carriage. the gray skies are darkening by the second, it's telling him something that he's sure he doesn't want to hear. his fingers fiddle with the cuffs of his tailored suit jacket, something you'd requested be made for him when his stay was first prolonged. the prince is entirely clad in white and he knows enough to imagine the face his mother will make when she first sees him home. lee jeno doesn't remember a time when he's donned a color other than black, but somehow, the white doesn't feel too far from home.

with the white, his mind flashes with the events of the past month or so spent in your noble abode. you, on the other hand, rarely ever wore a color other than white, the most differing shade being a cream or beige. but even with all the lights, you never seemed to mind when they were dirtied. almost always, a day in the fields or by the bathing pool would drench a good six inches of your skirts in mud and the unfurled hems of your frocks or crinkled fronts of those sweaters you so often adorned were always beyond your notice. you were free in that way, never stopping to fuss over the little things you deemed unimportant. jeno thinks if he could live that way too and though he isn't sure if he can, he knows he wants to.

jeno can hear the spindles of the carriage gyrating with added resistance against the now watered-down mud of the trodden roads. his eyes are caught in the sky that looks as if it's to detonate at any given second. he predicts the thunder before it rings loud in his ears and he hears the coachman slash a whip to a trepid horse, an echo of the natural phenomenon. he wonders what it would feel like to be the coachman, out in the clamorring downpour, or perhaps the horse, blindlessly running to the crack of a whip, or the trees even, awoken by the threat of a fire. he wonders if he has any desire to be the lightning itself, to jab at the delicate foliage as he'd like, to set fire to that of which he doesn't like, to wield destructive power. he wonders, but he knows he doesn't want to.

lee jeno is in his carriage when he realizes what it means to be free, but not in the hindrance of others. he realizes what it means, not to rule but rather to guide without the oppression of others. lee jeno is also in his carriage when the skies turn black and a deluge of rain is unleashed upon the castle of white.

a man a few inches brief to the prince, but of higher rank in swordsmanship, is propped on the limestone trellis that holds the awning in place, his two feet hooked between the vertical balusters of stone and fingers clung onto the ridge of the balustrade. he finds it ludicrous that every individual of importance he has ever met, is so caught up in their own belief that they are untouchable, where in reality they are the most vulnerable of all. he thinks this, specifically, as he upturns himself over the railing and onto the landing, only to see that the king's door are left wide open, the only shield of protection being the pristine white curtains glinting a sheen of blue in the moonlight.

renjun is humored when, upon drawing the curtains back, the king himself is simply laying there on the ground, unconscious as he was informed he'd be. the knight presses two fingers to the inner wrist of the withered man and finds that he still has a job to finish. brandishing a blade from the underside of his calf, he deems the inscription on the handle fit for the deed. he drives it into the gut but makes quick work of it, the sputters of blood that erupt from the now-awakened royal something he wishes the guards just outside not to hear. renjun makes further assurance that the blade is firmly put in place, the stout palladium shaft protruding from the king's abdomen like the ring of a windup toy.

a black body bag is used to sheath the quickly-paling bag of bones. it is left under the light of the moon, through a skylight rounded in the dead center of the palace. around the malefaction, stairs wind in all directions from the ground up and if there were even one maid to have crossed the landing once in the night, she would have been met with what looked to be an unassuming trash bag. but fate had it so the sun would rise before your dead father was stumbled upon, an inscribed shank planted between his internal organs reading, this star-like solitude (Giuseppe Ungaretti, from Last Choruses for the Promised Land: XVI (tr. by Patrick Creagh)).

the blood that seeps from the measly opening in the bag is not silver, nor is it gold. it is blood red. the red of a brazen senex that perhaps preceded and proceeded his times, entangled in the intricacies of the new age, the new game of politics he simply had no means to play at. akin to the webs of an arachnid, the string of fate hung around his neck, thin and unnoticeable, cinching with each passing second until Mother Nature deemed his time up. the blood that seeps writhes in the rays of the sun, twines like the veins in the marble beneath it. it seeps until the figure in the sack is drained and the clumping skin of human remains is the same shade as the white tiling. red against white, white against black, the black of a crying sky.

read volume three: dearly departed.

✧ end note — i had such a hard time trying to pull this outta my ass in a way that captures everything i wanted to say. so thank you for reading this piece. it’s one of my most favorite things i have ever written, undoubtedly.

#nct fics #nct scenarios #nct ff #nct jeno #nct lee jeno #jeno x reader #jenoxreader #jeno imagines #jeno fluff #jeno angst #jeno blurbs #rouiyan fics #rouiyan writes

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protectbrowngirls · 3 years

Note

hello, i hope you're having a good day, sorry if this is too much but is there any resources or anything ah idk for people who's parents do kinda abusive things emotionally and physically but you're confused whether it is abusive bc of culture? im so sorry idk how to explain it

I'm terribly sorry for how long it has taken me to respond to this message. I didn't have any resources on hand that addressed this issue specifically, and it took me a while to round up a set of literature and resources that I felt might be useful. This got super super long, so I'm sorry in advance! I hope you find something in this wall of text helpful. I'm placing the rest of my response under a read more.

I definitely understand the confusion you mention. Eastern norms and Western norms differ vastly in many areas, and it can be difficult to disentangle whether something that seems abusive is truly abusive or simply an instance of clashing norms. This article from Bridging Refugee Youth & Children's Services (BRYCS) puts it really well, in my opinion:

Actions thought to be normal or appropriate in one culture may be interpreted as abuse or neglect by another culture. Some parenting actions are effective because a whole society holds similar underlying assumptions. When an individual tries to transport those actions and assumptions to another culture, the results can be disastrous.

A good place to start may be the Convention on the Rights of the Child, which defines, in broad strokes, the rights and freedoms that all children ought to have and has been ratified by 196 countries. This establishes a culture-neutral foundation for what standards parents, educators, etc should meet. If your parents regularly violate any of your rights laid out in the CRC, those behaviors are recognized as unacceptable by nearly ever country and culture across the globe.

This publication from WHO offers definitions for child abuse and includes discussions on how cultural norms can influence what types of behavior that culture deems abusive. India is one of the countries discussed.

Regarding brown culture specifically, this UNICEF study details parenting approaches, including prevalence of abuse, in various regions of India. A summary and analysis of the study is provided in this article.

I also found this study, where 29 South Asian-Canadian parents were surveyed regarding their attitudes toward various parenting practices. In general, the parents' judgment of (in)appropriate parenting approaches didn't differ widely from other populations, suggesting that perceptions of neglect and abuse are culturally independent. Though it's a small sample, the paper has some great discussion worth reading.

Here is a selection of blog posts that I found topical and interesting:

https://www.nakedtruth.in/2019/04/29/the-vicious-cycle-of-parental-abuse-in-indian-families/

https://thetempest.co/2017/01/10/culture-taste/i-called-out-my-parents-on-their-affectionate-abuse/

https://thetempest.co/2017/09/18/culture-taste/desi-culture-serious-problems-and-heres-proof/

I would also recommend the subreddit r/ABCDesis; this topic has been discussed numerous times there:

https://libredd.it/kqmnt6/

https://www.reddit.com/r/ABCDesis/comments/kjmzi7/can_we_please_stop_normalizing_abusive_behavior/

https://www.reddit.com/r/ABCDesis/comments/6e6ym5/is_emotional_abuse_a_way_of_life_for_desi_parents/

In addition to all of that literature, here are some support systems that may be able to help you navigate this confusion:

The aforementioned r/ABCDesis

DeQH (if you're queer), a peer-run helpline for LGBTQ+ South Asians

The Facebook group the little brown diary

I want to conclude by noting that if a behavior is normalized within a culture or entrenched within its cultural norms, this doesn't automatically preclude that behavior from being abusive. Quite possibly--and quite commonly--this simply means that the culture in question normalizes abusive behavior. Brown parents make liberal use of slapping as a punishment, but slapping is still an abusive action. The same goes for forbidding self-expression, forbidding children from having opinions or beliefs or ambitions that differ from their parents', denying children age-appropriate privacy, etc. If you are questioning whether your parents' actions are abusive or cultural, it's entirely possible the answer is "they're both."

#tw abuse #desi #abuse #child abuse #abusive parents #abusive parenting #unhealthy parenting #desi parenting #emotional abuse #physical abuse #child neglect #this is a good reminder to make the gaslighting post i've been putting off for 2 months #ask #resources

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pa-panda-heroes · 4 years

Note

The LOV with a s/o whos always showering them with compliments but if they say it back to their s/o she goes 'What? No way! Im not even as good as you are' LIKE, I CAN NOT TAKE A COMPLIMENT. I tell people compliments but then i get flustered easy if they say 'you're beautiful too!' i respond with 'Aw, no im not stop it 😚👉🏻👈🏻'

OH ANONI I FEEL YOU, LOVE ;;v;; I’m really awkward with giving them, though lol

~🐼

LoV with a s/o who can’t take a compliment!

Tomura:

It confuses the living hell out of this boy, honestly! You’re always complimenting and reassuring him, so he just wants to try and return the favor on the rare occasion he compliments you.

At first, accepting compliments wasn’t - and still isn’t - something he’s good at either. And giving compliments was even harder for him. Being raised the way he was and the general social norms of Japan, it’s only natural.

But he’ll warm up to it a little, trying to accept when he thinks to do so, and dishing out his own compliment rarely, if a bit awkwardly. He’s not “one with words,” to say.

Your inability to take a compliment, while it can frustrate him, he doesn’t hate it by any means. But he doesn’t want you to be hard on yourself.

He loves your compliments, though, albeit doesn’t outwardly express his appreciation for them. Tomura is more of a “actions over words” person and would rather show you.

Which means the best compliments he manages usually aren’t said but rather done.

For example, if you’ve done something with your hair he likes, his attention is set straight on it. This boy will play with your hair (more than usual) without your asking, or pet it, or just stare at it. He might say it “looks nice” if he’s brazen enough, but you can tell he thinks more about it than that by his behavior.

Gifts, I think, are also on his list of showing he appreciates your or, in his own way, compliment you. Maybe it’s a flower you like, maybe it’s an article of clothing that fits your hair; things like that.

Mr. Compress:

So, your turning down compliments is not going to bother him by any means.

Mr. was once an entertainer, right? Being a successful entertainer is being a humble entertainer, so turning town compliments became second-nature to him at some point.

But becoming a villain made him rewire that part of his brain.

Which means he understands! He’s going to think you’re being polite or being humble.

But if he thinks it’s insecurity, he’s going to think and act differently. He’s going to be supportive and try to help you, if he can.

He thinks it’s so sweet and kind you’re so open to dishing out compliments, and it makes him happy. If you compliment or praise his magic tricks, his ego will increase by tenfold! And that’s only because it’s you that complimented him.

Mr. will deadass counter your compliment with one of his own. Usually he’ll take his hat off and hold it to his chest with a slight entertainer’s bow. He won’t care who’s around or how much it flusters you. He’s going to give you a taste of your own medicine (in a good way)!

Sometimes he’ll worry you don’t love yourself like you should, which usually results in him smothering you in compliments and his pampering you like an old-fashioned gentleman.

Twice:

Twice loves your compliments, but much like Mr., he’s going to try to counter yours with some of his own. Yet, if given any, he’ll turn them down like you do.

In other words, he loves receiving compliments but can’t accept them. I think he goes back and forth between wanting to accept them, and thinking he doesn’t deserve them, sadly. Smother this man and convince him he deserves it

I don’t think he’d be used to receiving compliments, so in the beginning, you have to be patient with him because he’ll blank on how to respond.

All that said, he won’t hesitate for even a second to dish them out. He looks up to you, so naturally he’s going to tell you what he thinks of you. Twice thinks you’re amazing and he wants you to know that, because having a positive view of yourself should be important to you.

Giving compliments comes easy to him, and if you try to fight him on a compliment he’s given you, he will fight you on why he’s right.

It frustrates him to a point if you argue enough, but he knows he can’t say anything about your habit because he’s the same way.

He does think it’s cute how you respond, but he doesn’t want you to be hard on yourself.

If he goes a set amount of time without your compliments, you’ll notice a drop in his mood! He wants your compliments and acceptance more than he lets on or even knows himself.

Himiko:

She’s lost. How?? Are you like this?? She doesn’t really understand where it comes from or why you can’t take a compliment, but she thinks it’s sweet you send them her way.

It makes her feel like you accept her for who she is, like you don’t think she’s some - literally - bloodthirsty psychopath with no earthly attachments or feelings. And she appreciates that. It’s not something she feels often.

Himiko loves complimenting you, too, albeit her praises are usually “outside of the box.”

She’ll tell you that “your cute teeth are sharp and perfect for biting people,” or “your lovely fingers can reach so easily into someone’s abdominopelvic cavity and pull out their intestines.”

But she’ll also give normal compliments like “your outfit is cute today,” and “how did you do your hair like that? Can you teach me?” Himiko’s a sweetheart at... uh, heart - really!

She’s not totally bothered that you can’t take a compliment; she just wants you to know that she means them. She can’t make you feel a certain way about yourself, but she wants to be damn sure you know she thinks of you in a good way.

Her favorite way of being complimented is being called “cute,” no doubt. And a lot her compliments will consist of your being cute to her.

She’ll get pouty if you don’t smother her every once in a while, acting like you’re neglecting her and teasing you for it.

Dabi:

This stapled boy refuses to accept compliments!

And he doesn’t toss them around liberally, either. You have to pry them out of him. It’s nothing personal, that’s just how he is.

Dabi’s not going to have a single issue with how you handle compliments, but at first he’s not going to like getting them very much.

He’ll probably brush them off thinking you’re kissing ass, and he’s not entirely fond of that. Obviously over time he’s going to see that you’re sincere.

But Dabi giving compliments? Not horrible, but not good.

Firstly, he used to think that complimenting you = hitting on you. Then, he moved on to hyping up your quirk or skills. After that comes normal compliments like you might hand out yourself, and despite feeling a little awkward when it comes to compliments, he’s really smooth about it.

He thinks it’s cute when you get all flustered and sputtery and not know how to accept, and it’ll egg him on to give you more because it’s Dabi and he’s a tease.

Like I said earlier, he doesn’t give compliments out often, but when he does, he means it and you ought to listen. He won’t say it twice!

Spinner:

He’s going to appreciate your compliments a lot. It’s nice for him to have that ego boost, and he deserves it.

But boy, can he get flustered and not know how to accept them.

He might mutter a simple “thank you” and/or somehow redirect the compliment back your way without entirely accepting it. He’s so flustered that he doesn’t really think about what he’s saying and sputters out what first comes to mind.

But it’s going to make him a little sad that you won’t take his compliments.

Do you think he doesn’t mean it? Do you think he’s just trying to get into your pants or something? Do you not see yourself as amazing as you are? He won’t confront you about it unless he’s damn near convinced of it.

Like Dabi, the more you refuse his compliments, the more he’s going to do it, just for a different reason. He just wants you to see yourself the way he sees you! If you’re so sweet, what’s the hurt in sending some sweetness your way?

His compliments might come out a little awkward, but that does not mean they’re insincere.

He’s the most likely to compliment on something you’re insecure about, because he knows he has his own insecurities. Maybe that’s not the best way of helping you overcome them, but his heart is in the right place.

#mha #mha headcanons #mha x reader #shigaraki x reader #mr compress x reader #twice x reader #toga x reader #dabi x reader #spinner x reader #shigaraki tomura #mr compress #twice #toga himiko #dabi #spinner #h/c #comfort / fluff #i gotta update my masterlist! :0 #thinking about closing requests because i have a lot rn and i dont want to make anyone wait!

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starkeristheendgame · 5 years

Note

hey!! im really sorry to bother but i really love your writing & saw that you were taking prompts!! i was wondering if you could do one where tony has a sort of kink for calling peter ‘kid’ in a way, if your comfortable of course! sorry if my English isn’t the best!

I’m so sorry that this got buried to the bottom of my inbox! I hope you’re still around and that you get to see this, and I’m so sorry again that it drowned! I hope you enjoy it and I can only apologise if you hate it 😂

Also; please, please don’t ever apologise for your verbal or lingual ability. Learning another language is hard, and English is noted as one of (if not the most) hardest languages to learn. Being bi/multi-lingual is something to be insanely proud of!

I hope you don’t mind, but all of my prompts recently have been in canon universe, so this is a neighbours AU with no powers. In which Tony is a rich ex-businessman who just wants to tinker on old cars in his (not) retirement and Peter is the high school kid that won’t leave him alone.

TW: ‘Kid’ kink (the term) | Underage character | Underage (SS&C) sex | Daddy kink

Someone had bought the house next to his over the half-term. Peter knew this because the sale sign went down and the garden was immediately de-turfed and a notice was posted through everyone’s door on Wayforest Road that ‘minor construction’ would begun within the next two weeks, from 8am to 5pm daily, save for Saturdays and Sundays.

Peter wanted to laugh in - and then punch - the face of whoever decided to term it minor. Abruptly on the following Monday, almost a full half-hour before his alarm was due to go off, Peter was awoken by deep, loud voices and the clanging of scaffolding poles as the workmen arrived.

Groaning did nothing. Neither did flopping about pathetically on his bed like a beached fish. Burrowing under his duvet and his pillow was also a lost cause; he’d left his window open to keep his room cool in the night.

Seething, Peter flung himself from bed, turned off his alarm, and hopped in the shower. The workmen were gone when he came back, but the house was now a big, ugly grey thing besides his own, and he paused on the sidewalk to eye it mulishly. “If you’re another crabby old man; I’m not helping you walk your groceries up to your porch” he announced loudly to the empty house, and scuttled away to the safety of his own home after being eyed balefully and judgmentally by Mrs. Witkin’s cat.

At the dinner table, the new house and its new occupants were all Aunt May seemed to want to talk about, despite the way Peter’s face resembled less of his usual ‘ :) ‘ and more of a ‘ -.- ‘ as she went on, guessing the features of their new neighbour animatedly around mouthfuls of mashed potato.

Tuesday morning found him jolting awake to a shout of “Jim! Jim! For fuck’s sake, Jim, get tha’ fuckin’ plank!” In a thick, overly loud Irish accent.

By Friday, Peter was ready to forgo just a punch to the face, and was willing to commit all out, planned murder. At somewhere around seven-am every morning that week, the workmen had woken him up with their clanging and their shouting and their existing. Friday evening he stomped around the corner with a glower, fingers tight around his backpack straps. Not even Mrs. Witkin’s mean old cat could deter him from scowling at the house the entire way to his door.

Town rumours be damned; that cat was just old and judgemental, like half the residents there. It was no trapped old lady or cursed young Prince.

Hopefully.

Peter crossed himself on his porch quickly just in case. It could never hurt to be a little superstitious. Especially not after the day that Mr. Herald proclaimed himself immortal and was then promptly wiped out by the tree in his yard collapsing.

By the following Monday, Peter caved and stayed at Ned’s for the night, for the first time in his entire life thankful to hear the music of his alarm and not a series of clangs or yells. It was even good enough that Ned’s snoring didn’t disturb him as much as it usually did. He felt chipper, refreshed. Right up until he turned the corner and found his street lined with vans, the workmen a little late finishing.

The next two months were cesspit of noise and strange men and sleepless days off. Apparently the person who had bought the house must’ve only liked the area and nothing about the house at all, because by week three, all that remained of it was the bare skeleton, gutted and stripped and ugly. But Peter was willing to concede that his new neighbour had good taste.

By the end of the second month the house had been entirely re-built, and Peter was convinced that his new neighbour was some very famous or important person looking for a secret hideaway, or a mob boss. There was no other logical explanation. What had once been a decent but generic detached property with a neglected garden was now a mini-mansion of sorts, all soft creams and light earth tones, with a stonewall front and staggered steps that led onto a half-gravel and half-grass front yard.

Large paned windows were already lined with thick curtains and plants and a sweeping gravel-scape led to a large garage, that seemed to be the most work of the renovation. It was huge, probably taking up over half of what used to be side garden and dead grass. No fence bordered the property, but the difference between Peter’s space and the new person’s space was immaculate and definitive.

“Huh” he mused aloud, blinking. Suddenly, he was less irritated at all those lost half-hours and more curious about who was going to be living there. They had money, for sure. Inheritance? Insurance claim payout? Illegal happenings? Aunt May’s two joking theories were suddenly looking less of a joke and more genuine possibilities.

As it would happen, Peter wouldn’t actually find out for another three or so months. The man moved in on a Saturday, quietly and with a small fleet of sleek SUV vehicles and fancy moving vans. Peter enjoyed a lazy morning, napping until the start of the afternoon and basking in the summer warmth, stretching in front of his bedroom window and looking down in time to see the last of the delivery and moving people packing down their vehicles.

Peter eyed all the bodies curiously, but it soon became clear none of them were his new neighbour, because they all stood around, flipping through paperwork, and then promptly left. Peter lingered under the pretence of dusting at his window ledge, but the street was quiet and empty.

Aunt May was anything but quiet when he finally dragged himself downstairs in search of food. “Peter! Morning, honey. Did you see the vans outside? Very fancy. Big enough for bodies, too, though” May hummed, flipping through the book she was currently reading.

Thirty Ways To Revive Your Youth.

Peter grimaced, and begun to rummage through the cupboards. “Not to question your intelligence, but. Why would a mob boss carry around his victims? Like a few teeth or knuckles ought to serve as good souvenirs. I don’t think carting around whole bodies is practical” Peter pointed out, settling on fruity oatmeal. Aunt May paused in her reading, nose twitching to adjust her glasses as she considered it.

“Hm. Point. Unless they bought the house because they run out of burial room, and these are fairly recent bodies they need the new soil for” she pointed out, and Peter pointed his spoon at her as he passed.

“Point” he agreed.

And so the weeks passed, but the mystery remained. No matter what time Peter tired to linger, or how early he awoke, his neighbour never seemed to be around. Here and there he would catch a figure roaming past the windows, kinda like a ghost, but never a clear view or a face. It was vastly disappointing, but his interest didn’t wane over the months that spanned between his rueful lack of sleep and now.

Now being a hazy Saturday morning, warm but not overly stuffy. Peter was coming back from a morning at Ned’s wherein they’d been steadily chewing away at the LEGO Galactic Supership. He was halfway down the street when a large trailer vehicle begun to drift down the street steadily, heading straight in Peter’s direction.

He paused on the sidewalk, watching it with interest. It was a transportation vehicle, and as it drew closer Peter could see there was a car on the back of it, heavily clamped down and chained to make sure it wouldn’t roll off. The vehicle passed him by some, and he got a clear view of the other car. It looked old, a little broken, rusted. Huge, though. Bigger than all the cars he’d seen before.

It pulled up right outside his neighbours house. Sensing an opportunity, and genuinely curious, Peter lingered, taking a few steps across the sidewalk to eye the car. It was a glossy red, though it had sun fade and was patchy. The chrome was glossy in places and dull, rusted in others. One headlight was missing.

The door of the cab opened, and Peter turned on his heel to see the driver getting out. The friendly greeting died on his lips as toned, thick thighs slid from the cab, followed by trim hips and a long, solid torso only half-hidden under a tank-shirt and overshirt. Broad shoulders prefaced the hottest man that Peter had ever laid eyes on.

He had a shaped jaw that was cut by stubble in a unique style that Peter had never seen anyone wearing before. He had sharp cheeks and dark, deep eyes with long lashes, tanned but not exactly browned and dark, dark hair with the barest flecks of grey at the roots, at his temples.

The man seemed surprised to find him there, pausing mid-way through pushing the door shut and peering around the street before looking back at him. One shaped brow lifted, and Peter stumbled to remember his manners, thrusting out a hand.

“Hi, Mister. Sorry - I was looking at the car. Is it for the new house?” He asked, forcing himself not to blush under the intense gaze. After a brief pause, the man took his hand, palm large and slightly rough, grip firm. He was even more attractive up close, slight crinkles at the corners of his eyes, dark lips and the strong scent of motor oil and grease.

“Would seem that way”.

And Ho-ly voice. Deep and with the softest of rumbles, soothing like a thunderstorm in the far distance. Peter clutched at his jacket when their hands dropped, coughing politely to hide whatever facial expression he’d pulled. The man strode past him and to the car, beginning to work on the many safety straps and chains.

“Did they…Is this theirs?” Peter asked after watching him quietly for several moments with a gesture towards the house besides them. Peter had discovered the house had a second parking bay on the other side, where a glossy black muscle car from the 60′s never seemed to move.

“Theirs’?” The man echoed, pausing in his movements to look up at Peter with curious amusement. It occurred to him then that it was likely some random car recovery guy had seen his new neighbour(s) before he had.

“Uh…Well. I’ve never actually seen them. So I don’t know if its one person, or a whole family, or…” Peter trailed off meekly, looking over his shoulder at the building. It looked as empty as it always did, no lights on and no figures moving behind the windows.

“Townsfolk say its some celebrity having a breakdown. Others say its some old widow using her husband’s life insurance. Even heard from someone that its a mafia lord, settling down in the middle of some quiet ass nowhere town” the recovery man grunted, hauling on a thick, heavy chain. Peter flushed.

Yeah. He was…Guilty of some pretty crazy guesses. But come on. Someone buys a house, spends upwards of hundreds of thousands doing it over, and then…Nothing. No new faces at the grocery store. Never seen, or even heard. Like a ghost.

“They’re not big fans of being…Seen. I guess? I mean, I know a guy with groceries comes around every Monday. Sometimes multiple times a week, but he always puts them in the garage and leaves. And this town is full of judgemental old people - Half of whom probably have mercury poisoning or something. There’s gonna be some pretty wild speculations going around” he pointed out, moving closer to look at what appeared to be a scratch in the paintwork.

The car gave a faint creak as the man released all of the holds on this side, snorting as he rounded the back of the vehicle and went to the other side with a loud, amused snort. Peter followed, and stifled a gasp at the sight of the other car. The man turned, eyeing him for a moment, before nodding.

“Got T-boned by an estate car. But she’s a tough old thing. Heavy metals and good steel; not like today’s cars. She came out better off” he mumbled as he worked on a thick strap, carefully taking apart the various clasps and buckles. Peter approached the car carefully, stretching up on his toes to brush his fingertips over the warped metal. He felt almost….Sad for the car.

He traced the flaking paint and the twisted, dented metal tenderly, and when he pulled away, the man was watching him again, movements slowed as he pulled the material through the metal. “Is this their car? What good is it now if its all broken up?” He asked curiously.

The man ducked his head, moving onto another thick chain. “Its just the one guy. I guess its a…Hobby. Of his. Bought her yesterday at a scrap lot”. He seemed uncomfortable saying it, but to Peter it was like gold trust. One guy. Huh. A big old house like that? That seemed rather lonely. Maybe it really was some rich old person retiring, enjoying a quiet place and a mechanics hobby.

Peter was going to ask more, but the car was freed with a grinding sound, and the man gestured him carefully back with his hand, holding it out in front of Peter to walk him back like a horse, to a safe distance. The man used two remotes to bring the car to the ground, Peter watching in fascination as rotors and rolling mechanisms moved it backwards and onto the tarmac of the road.

“How do you plan on moving it now?” Peter asked, and immediately regretted it as the man shed his over-shirt. Biceps. Shoulders. Forearms. His throat went dry and he could feel the heat rising to his cheeks.

As it turns out, the plan was simply ‘push’. Peter scoffed, but was soon at a loss to anything but stare as the man leaned heavily against the trunk of the car, muscles bulging in the afternoon sun. Heavy or not, the car soon begun to roll, and after a moment Peter dropped his backpack and came up besides the straining man, leaning all his might against the metal.

It probably did fuck all, but the man gave him a wry grin all the same, chest heaving with deep, controlled breaths as they moved the car across the flat ground and onto the side-drive space. Peter’s shoulder ached and his arms and thighs suddenly felt like jelly, but the man slapped him across the back.

“Good effort, kid” and then moved away, heading towards the front door. Peter gaped as the man simply grasped the doorhandle and pushed the door open, and floundered on the drive. “Wait! You’re just gonna walk into his house?” He called, and the man paused mid-step, looking back at him.

“Well. I ought to just ‘walk in’. Its my house”. And with a lewd, perfect wink he was gone. Peter wasn’t entirely sure what to do with himself, flailing on the driveway with error logs flashing behind his eyes. That was his neighbour. His neighbour was some rich, late-thirty something hot-hot-hot guy who fixed broken classic cars.

“Oh my god” Peter muttered, stomping down the driveway to get his bags. Four months. He’d lived next to this Playgirl model for four months.

He decided against telling Aunt May. It felt selfish, but it also felt good to know he was the only person to have seen him. Even though he realised not long after reaching his room that he hadn’t even gotten his name. Peter waited by his window for hours, but saw neither hair nor hide of the man again. By morning, the transport truck was gone and the cherry red car was presumably inside the garage.

The damned guy was magic. There was no other explanation. Fuelled, Peter spent the Sunday morning in the kitchen, furiously baking with narrowed eyes and a plan. The muffins were done by mid-day, and Peter iced them carefully before boxing them, and stomping across the sidewalk to his neighbour’s house.

Peter knocked, and waited. Knocked again. Waited. “If you don’t answer the door then I’m just going to sit here” he announced loudly, knocking again before plopping down onto the porch just to prove a point. Several long minutes passed before his neighbour appeared around the corner, from the garage judging by the grease steaks up his arms, scowling.

“Kid. Here’s a life tip; if someone doesn’t answer the door, its because they don’t want company” the man huffed, but his eyes zeroed in on the box with intense curiosity, and Peter shrugged, smug.

“You came out, though” he pointed out, pushing himself to his feet. The man scoffed, but allowed him to follow, leading the way around the building where a small side-door was open.

“I came out about thirty years ago, kiddo. If that’s a congratulations cake, you’re a little late”. Peter tripped over the gravel, fighting his legs to remain upright and his stomach did a weird knot inside him. Oh. Not only was his neighbour hot, but he was at the least male inclined, too.

Very interesting.

“Actually, these are just welcome muffins. Chocolate and orange” Peter murmured, stepping inside the garage. It was bigger than it seemed, and the cherry red car stood in the centre, sanded down and clearly being worked on already.

“Peter, by the way. Peter Parker” he added after a pause, and almost offered his hand for a second time, but settled instead on thrusting the muffin box at the man. He raised a brow, but delved inside to pull one out, clearly eager at the prospect.

“Tony” he offered simply, and Peter tested it on his tongue, enjoying the shape. For now; he’d let the lack of a last name go. Good things in time, after-all. Choosing to invite himself to stay, Peter perched primly on top of the edge of the workbench, electing another raised brow, but Tony’s mouth was too full of muffin to object.

Tony begun to work as he ate, and Peter sat in content silence, watching as Tony and his bulging arm muscles took each wheel off the car and begun to strip it of all its chrome features. Peter checked his phone after a while and was surprised to find that around four hours had passed. May would be home from her sewing group about now. He ought to head home.

“I’ll be back tomorrow” he announced, and jumped at the same time Tony did, the man smacking his arm off warped metal with a shout. Tony whirled on him, eyes wide, gaze flicking between him and the door, before he looked…Confused.

“You’re still here?” He asked, and Peter snorted as he dusted off his pants, heading for the door with a shake of his head. May came home shortly after he did, and Peter supposed he ought to let her know that he’d be visiting Tony again tomorrow.

“So he’s not a mafia boss? Or a celebrity?” She asked around a mouthful of roasted chicken, looking rather disappointed as Peter shrugged and shook his head.

“He just seems…Aloof? I don’t know. Maybe he’s some business tycoon or something. But he seems nice. I’m just going over to help him with this car he’s got. It’s real nice, too” Peter hummed, and Aunt May narrowed her eyes at him.

“Are you sure? I mean, you don’t know him. He’s a stranger. Albeit a hot one, apparently. And you have school tomorrow, too. You shouldn’t be hanging around strangers. Unless…If he happens to be single…I’d be open to his number” May shrugged after a pause, and Peter blinked.

May was surprisingly easy to placate, and he assured her that if she wanted to, she could march right over to Tony and give him a Mother Hen Talk after dinner, but she decided against that, and in favour of a hot bath. School on Monday rolled around quicker than Peter could say ‘garage’ and he decided against telling Ned about Tony.

He wanted Tony all to himself. At least…For as long as he could. It was strange, but he found his heart thumping as he marched down Tony’s driveway and up to the garage door this time, knocking on it loudly. He’d brought lemonade and sandwiches this time.

The garage door opened, and Tony looked equally as startled to see Peter there as he had the day prior, gaze raking his body before frowning, and stepping aside with a sigh. “You’re like a mosquito, kid. I came here to get away from people” Tony announced pointedly, and Peter founded on him with an unimpressed gaze and an arched brow of his own.

“If you truly wanted to get away from people, you’d have moved out in the mountains or something. Now, get back to work. In an hour you can stop for supper. I brought chicken sandwiches” he ordered, taking his seat from the day before and pulling his calculus homework from his bag.

He kept his gaze down as Toy stared at him, mouth opening and closing several times, before he went for his wrench, muttering to himself as he lay down on a wheeled bench and rolled under the car. Peter smiled quietly into his papers. A little over two hours later - he lost count, sue him - Peter pushed himself to his feet and strode over to the car, kicking Tony lightly in the ankle that stuck out.

“We can eat now” he announced, walking back over to his pack and taking out the tupperware he’d packed this morning. He could hear the sound of the wheels moving, and he turned, holding out the box. Tony looked perplexed, but approached and took it, still looking puzzled even as he bit into his own portion.

“Not that the pattern of snacks isn’t appreciated, kid, but…Why are you here?” he asked after he’d swallowed, and Peter actually had to think about it, flushing as his mind conjured up inappropriate responses like ‘I want to lick your arms’ and ‘You look like the hot mechanics in my pornos’.

He settled on a shrug, chewing slowly for more time. “You’re interesting. You’re my neighbour. You’re not a mafia boss or a broken down celebrity” he pointed out. Tony twitched on the last one, but gave a hum and moved away, scarfing down the last of his sandwich and returning to the car. This time, when Peter informed him he was leaving and would be back tomorrow again, Tony neither jumped nor looked surprised.

It became a pattern. Three out of seven days a week, Peter would sit in the garage with his homework or revision and Tony would work on the red car, which Peter came to learn was a 1958 Plymouth Fury. “Just like in Christine” Tony had huffed proudly, and had then been quickly appalled when Peter had simply stared blankly.

That night, Peter had watched the movie, and his next visit was spent talking animatedly about it with Tony, discussing their favourite parts and what it might be like if it was ever re-made. After a month, Aunt May picked her way across the gravel to finally meet the man her adopted son kept disappearing off to be with, and Peter had the unfortunate experience of watching them flirt together, Tony in a cheeky, smooth, outrageous manner and Aunt May like a school-girl. When he begun to gag in the corner, Tony threw an oil rag at him.

One day, a week before the summer holidays, Peter rounded the corner to find Tony stood on the porch, looking angry and tense and talking to a tall woman with red hair, tied up in a ponytail. Peter stopped and lingered, unsure of what to do. Besides him and May, he’d never seen anyone else talking to Tony. Even the grocery delivery guy simply put the bags in the garage and left.

After a while, the woman turned away, looking sullen and displeased, and slipped into a sleek black SUV, pulling off with a screech of her tires and the rev of her engine. By the time Peter reached the house, Tony was back inside, and he knocked quietly, leaning closer to the door.

Tony didn’t answer.

“Mr. Tony? I’m not sure what happened, but…If you’re not up for hanging out today, its cool. I brought soup, but I’ll leave yours on the porch. It might be hot, so…Be careful”. Peter stooped and left the thermos close to the door, before leaving. He felt uncomfortable for the rest of the day, longed to go see Tony, but everything in his gut told him to let him be for a time.

Whoever that man had been, he was clearly someone Tony didn’t like or want around.

Almost a whole week passed in which Tony didn’t answer the door, and by the Saturday, the first official day of the summer holidays, Peter was moping. Not to anyone that asked, but it was clear to even Ned that he’d been a little down lately, declining a celebratory LEGO fest in exchange for slinking up to his room.

No sooner had he toed off his shoes, the doorbell rung. Peter groaned, turning on his heel and abandoning his sweater on the staircase. It was probably another of Aunt May’s Amazon orders. Since she’d discovered the wonders of online shopping, Peter had learned their regular post-man was named Greg, he had two kids and a poodle, and was allergic to shrimp.

“What has she bought this ti- Tony?” Peter paused mid-sentence, eyes widening at the sight on his doorstep. Tony looked rough, dark circles under his eyes, his face looking more lined than before, but he gave a weak smile up at Peter, still stiff and unsure.

“Hey, kiddo. Figured you might…I made spaghetti. And I still have your thermos. Was gonna work on the car a bit”.

Peter recognised it for the attempted invitation that it was, and didn’t bother to fight off his broad grin. “Lucky for you, I love spaghetti. I just gotta grab a sweater on” he beamed, practically flinging himself up the stairs. Tony’s spaghetti was amazing, with some kind of pink-ish sauce, little chunks of shrimp and prawns, all tangy and sweet.

He even let Peter help with the car. Or…Well. He let Peter hold the torch. And the wrench. But still.

He was still grinning when he skipped home that evening, and when he crawled into bed his dreams were filled with oil-stained arms and a low, rumbling voice. He gasped awake in the early hours, cock hard and leaning against his hip, Tony’s voice echoing in his skull.

He shouldn’t.

He bit his lip and reached down, whimpering as he wrapped a hand around himself. He was too hard to last more than a few minutes, stifling his yell of “Tony!” Into his pillow as he came. When he arrived at Tony’s house later in the day, he could barely look the man in the eyes, flustered and shy.

The holidays continued in a similar fashion. They hung out almost every day in the garage, often for an entire day. Peter felt guilty about abandoning Ned, but looking at Tony’s broad smile, listening to his quips, watching his abs flex under his shirts as he lifted things...It was worth it.

By the fourth week of his holidays, after numerous days of lounging together with takeout and Tony helping him with his homework, Peter piped up.

“Peter”.

“What?”

“My name. It’s Peter” he repeated, nudging Tony gently where they lay together on the floor of the garage, staring up at the underside of the car. It was almost complete. Something to do with the clutch, and then all it needed was new paint. “You keep calling me ‘kid’. So. Y’know. In case you’d forgotten” he hummed.

Besides him Tony stilled, only briefly, before relaxing and swatting at him. “You are a kid, though”.

“I’m sixteen. I’m not a kid” Peter huffed, rolling onto his side and kneeing Tony in the thigh. Tony let his head loll, looking across at him with dark, dark eyes, and Peter’s breath hitched. Tony was close enough to kiss. And god, Peter wanted to kiss him. Had spent the past few weeks staring at his body, his mouth when he talked, waking up at night hard and aching.

Peter let his gaze drop, to plush lips outlined by dark stubble, and then he pushed himself up, momentarily hovering over Tony as he got his legs beneath him. “And you’re an old man” he tried, teasing, tugging at a lock of hair at Tony’s temple.

For the briefest, briefest of moments, Tony’s gaze went even darker. Hungrier. Peter thought about it in the shower that night, two fingers stuffed inside himself with too-little prep, mewling against the shower tiles. Almost as if…

He begun to get bolder. Touched Tony more. Stood closer. Any excuse to be in his space. If Tony noticed he said nothing, only giving lingering, unreadable looks and only ever turning away with a poorly hidden smirk whenever Peter said anything just a little too obvious.

On the last week of his holidays, Peter was kneeling half over Tony, dabbing gingerly at a slice on his bicep while the man clutched an ice-pack to his knee. The cherry red car was out, and an old, 1957 Chrysler Saratoga was in. And apparently, angry.

“Kid, seriously. I’m fine” Tony huffed, swatting at him as he dabbed away another crust of blood, peering at the wound. It wasn’t that deep, but it had bled something fierce. Peter lifted his gaze, scowling at him.

“I’m not a kid!” He snarked, pressed a little too hard on the wound just because he could. Watched Tony flinch under his touch and instantly felt guilty. He pulled away the cloth and ducked down, pressed a kiss to the wound before he could ever think about it. Aunt May had always done it for him, kissing his ouchies better. He froze, lips against jagged skin.

“Kid” Tony rasped, looking down at him with wide, dark eyes. Peter jerked backwards, and huffed.

“Keep calling me kid, I’m gonna start calling you ‘old man’“ he scowled. He was about to say ‘Or worse, Dad’, but…That was a bumpy road and he wasn’t ready to loose whatever he had built with Tony. Not yet. The older man snorted back at him, eyes rolling, and reached out, fingers closing around his jaw gently to shake his head a little.

“Look at you. You are. That little baby face. And you’re so small, like a cat. All slender. Couldn’t even lift up the gearbox. All big eyes and too must trust. I could’ve been an old pervert or sex criminal and you just walked right up to me and wouldn’t leave” Tony murmured, voice half-gone and gaze fixed on where he held Peter’s jaw.

“Wouldn’t - Did not” Peter managed, though he was already getting hard, his breathing was already a little shorter. Sharper. Tony gave a deep breath, fingers flexing against his jaw.

“You’re just a kid. A little baby. All soft-cheeked and gentle. You’re a kid now and you’ll be a kid for a long time. Nothing like me”.

And. Huh.

Peter blinked, jaw still clasped in Tony’s grip, and he relaxed his body, inching a little closer. “What is it about that, then? Why is that such a bad thing?”

“Its not. Its not bad. I’m just…I’m the bad one. Christ. Kid. You’re - You sit here doing homework. You don’t even have facial hair yet. I bet you haven’t even popped a stiffy before”. The words startled Tony as much as Peter, both visibly jolting, and Tony immediately looked like he wanted to die.

“Hey! Not true! Every night this holiday I’ve done more than ‘pop a stiffy’ over y-”. Peter bit down on his tongue, hard, watched the way Tony’s eyes widened. Fuck. They both jerked backwards, equally as taken aback by the revelation. There was no doubt as to what Peter had been about to say. Now way he could laugh it off or change it; though the subject was bad enough.

“I…”

“Kid…”

Peter huffed, leaning back on his haunches and dropping the cloth. “What, you got a kink for the word or something, Mister Tony?” Peter grumbled, but he could see Tony physically tense up opposite him, and he looked up, watched the almost shameful way that Tony turned his gaze away.

It hit him.

“You…Do” he huffed numbly.

“Its not…Christ. Peter. I’m not a…I’m not attracted to kids. I don’t know what it is. I just…Fuck. Maybe you should be calling me an old pervert. Fuck. I…Peter. You have to believe I don’t..I’ve never touched a kid. Never. My youngest partner was twenty when I was thirty. She was a hooker in Dubai and…Wait. You’re a fucking kid. I shouldn’t be talking about hookers and swearing and-”

Peter clamped a hand over Tony’s mouth, shaking his head. Jesus. He knew it was true, though. Tony was a recluse and laughably inept at anything social, but he wasn’t some scorned kiddie-toucher banished to a quaint little town.

“I know, Tony. I know. And I believe you. But if its not that, then…What is it?”. Tony only blinked at him slowly, for several beats, and it was then that Peter realised that his hand was on Tony’s mouth, and the man couldn’t speak. Though he could well have moved it himself. He let it drop, flushing.

“I don’t know” Tony croaked helplessly, and he looked so small, so lost. It was instinct that had Peter leaning forwards, gathering Tony in a tight embrace. The older man stiffened, but then relaxed, hand hesitantly falling to Peter’s side, featherlight like he was scared to touch him.

“Its…You’re so delicate. So…Untouched. Like a painting. Pretty. You shouldn’t be touched. Not yet. Not by me. But I want to”. It made Peter’s spine tingle and arch, letting out a surprised breath against the curve of Tony’s jaw. Tony made him sound like the Mona Lisa or something.

“I’m not a good person, Peter. I’m…All these months, you don’t even know my last name. Half the town thinks I’m a murderer or some kind of lunatic. But I’m worse than that”. Tony practically breathed it into his shoulder, head falling. Peter clutched at him, suddenly scared. Worse than those things?

“Tony Stark”.

Peter paused. Was silent for such a long time that Tony tensed against him again, before he begun to pet gently at Tony’s shoulders. “…Who? I mean, the name is vaguely familiar. But…Who?”

Tony pulled away, leaned back, looking up at him with glossy eyes and a ludicrous expression. “Stark. Tony Stark”.

Peter raised a brow. “Bond, James Bond?”

“What? No. The weapons company? Stark Industries?” Tony asked after a pause, like it was information Peter ought to know. After another pause of his mind being ridiculously blank, Peter sat upright, head tilting.

“Oh! Yeah. Stark Industries. But…What about it?”

Tony blinked at him, slowly, like there was a punchline he’d missed, and then he was reaching out, crushing Peter to his chest to the boy fell half over him with a yelp, squeezing him gently.

“You’re - Unbelievable. Never change, kid. I’m…I did bad things. I killed people. Carried on the family name despite spending my life trying to outrun it. I…I was betrayed. So I fixed it, and I left. And I was supposed to keep my hands off anything good. Anyone good. And here you are”.

“Okay. Firstly? You gotta stop calling me ‘kid’ now I know its a kink and you don’t intend to do anything about it. Secondly…I don’t know what you did. Or what happened. But I know what you’ve been since you got here. Who you’ve become. And I think you’re a good man” he breathed, adjusting so he was no longer straining, half-straddling Tony.

“You shouldn’t…” Tony didn’t finish the sentence, and there were a million things he could’ve said. But Peter chose to ignore them all, squirming his way closer until he really was sat in Tony’s lap. And this was more than they’d ever done.

More than the one-armed hugs and lingering touches, more than leaning shoulder-to-shoulder eating noodles. More than Peter listing against Tony’s side in the early morning hours, maths homework forgotten on the bench and Tony sitting still, so still, so as not to wake him.

“I’m old enough to know ‘should’ and ‘shouldn’t’, Mr. Stark. Besides. This is just…Hugging. Right? Innocent” he hummed, even as he deliberately shifted on Tony’s lap, a little heavier than he ought to, spread his legs wider around Tony’s hips.

“Ki- Peter” Tony huffed against him, fingers tightening around the hem of his sweater. It wasn’t until Peter shifted again that he realised; Tony was hard. Well. Getting there, but hard enough for Peter to recognise it. To feel it, digging into the round meat of his asscheek.

“I don’t touch kids” Tony repeated, and Peter snorted softly, shaking his head as he gripped at Tony’s broad shoulders, muscle honed by years of hard work. Muscle that led up to rough stubble, a sharp jaw that Peter nosed at.

“Good thing I’m not actually a kid then, Mr. Stark. That means you can touch”.

Tony surged forwards on a growl, lay Peter out like a feast on the garage floor; but still hovered over him. Reluctant. Uncertain. Peter lifted his legs, wrapped them around Tony’s waist, tight and steady. “Kiddo…”

“Mm. Your kiddo. Or I could be. If you kissed me” Peter grinned, breathless and bold with the sweet taste of Tony so close. Mere inches. “Kiss me” Peter repeated, and Tony growled as he surged downwards.

When Tony came, it was with ‘kid’ sharp and electric on his tongue. And…Well. Peter felt a little mollified, so naturally, it led to round two, pressing Tony down against the concrete, milking him for all he was worth as a broken ‘Peter!’ cracked on his tongue like a prayer.

The rounds after that were just…Well.

Purely selfish.

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randomoranges · 4 years

Text

the plot: actual Legit Things Happening in the BG taro: too self absorbed to worry about those.

also, the song mentioned in this part is real. i removed the name of the artist because someone might google the artist’s name and then make a bigger and further association with past weeb me and im still not ready for That lamao. (it’s nothing Big or Bad or whatever. i was just really obsessed with this show as a young tween and i still feel second hand embarrassment thinking about it to this day.)

however, this song, i could never find a link to downloand it or whatnot. it had been on some persons website but i couldn’t download it from there and when i searched i could never find it. i think it was finally this summer or last summer that i tried again and i finally FOUND IT.

also i swear in the word doc, i legit had a little music note emoticon next to the line; look.

So Totally OP!

Part 13

I backed up into a wall and glanced at Jake, silently asking him to save me and confirm that he too had just witnessed this atrocity. Jake also wore a traumatized expression. Not only was this man ugly as my grandmother’s wrinkled prunes, but he was too obsessed with money and that was what made him scary. Why had she hired this – abomination?!

“Get away from me! I just got my hair done and might I add, Jake you’ve really outdone yourself. Now please, I need my personal space. You’re in my perfect bubble right now.” Daniel didn’t seem to understand English. He just continued yapping about money and savings. This man was a total disgrace to society!

“All right, I’ll try to say this one more time, if you don’t get away from me, I’ll make sure that OP loses 1,100 dollars instead of saving it.” I tried instead. Maybe, if I spoke his language he would understand. Immediately, the man closed his big mouth and he left. Maybe he hadn’t really been there. Perhaps it had been a nightmare.

“Thank you for getting rid of him. Director, what is the meaning of this? I thought you despised that man.” Jake asked the director. And they even knew each other? This girl seemed to know everyone! And no one of quality – except for me, obviously.

“I had no choice. They wanted me to hire him. He was at the meeting and there are some – financial issues – I figured he was the best man for the job.”

Jake did not seem pleased. Somehow, I felt as though I shouldn’t have been here, as if I was eavesdropping on something, but I guess they needed my beauty in order to remember why they were here. Something good to keep their morale and such.

“But you him. You do remember what he did to The Shoe that Fits, right?” This didn’t seem like a friendly conversation. What about beautiful and elegant words?

“I’m not stupid Jak. Of course I remember, but I was forced to take him. It’s the only way. I told them about the past and they told me that if I had proof they would replace him, but for now because I’m only sixteen almost seventeen, they think I can’t make my own decisions.”

In a blink of an eye, Jake’s personality changed. “Oh why I ought to wring their fat necks until they let you run your own company! Haven’t you given them enough proof yet?”

The director sighed. They had completely forgotten about me! I felt so neglected.

“I appreciate the thought, but this is my own battle. I’ve got to go anyways, later.” She got up, kissed his cheek as though it was secondhand nature and left. I couldn’t believe it! What about me? What was I, dirty laundry?

“And what was that?” I just had to ask. This couldn’t be.

“A memento. You know, just because I’m gay it doesn’t mean that I don’t care for her. She still is one of my closest friends. I still care for her. It’s just a token of affection like when you greet people. Your jealousy won’t get you anywhere, Taro, remember that. And don’t worry, I won’t tell her that you like her.” He winked at me before disappearing in the darkness. I didn’t have anything to say. It seemed as though my brain had stopped working for an instant.

“I do not like her!” I yelled back for my own sake, even though he was already gone. Like I had previously said, ladies fell for me, not the other way around. I didn’t even know her name for crying out loud! So why did I feel this way? Could it be that I was starting to fall for her? Too bad I didn’t have two appendixes… I could have blamed it on that.

The next morning, I got to the studio early because I had concocted a brilliant plan to find out more about Daniel and a bit more about the director. I had my I-pod on as I walked into the building, blasting one of my favourite songs from one of my perfectly crafted playlists. The title was only too convenient for such a day; Handsome. It was the perfect song to start the day right. I felt so darn handsome! I could have turned the ugliest of things in celestial beauties.

You’re handsome…

I was lucky to find the director sitting at her desk typing away on her laptop. Now, it was time to put my perfect plan into action. I put my things away and walked to her desk. I sat on her desk and leaned over so she could see me in the eyes. I smiled at her and she looked at me with quizzical eyes.

“Good morning director, I have a proposition for you that you can’t refuse.” I gave her one of my charming smiles and she simply continued looking at me, almost annoyed.

“Yes Taro, go on.” She even seemed to have one of her forced smiles. This was all about to change!

“How about you and me go out together on Saturday for your birthday? It is Sunday the big day isn’t it?” Her stunned expression was what I needed as an answer. I smiled wickedly, before waltzing out of the room putting on Handsome on full blast. You’re handsome…

PREVIOUS: XII CURRENT: XIII NEXT: XIV

#so totally op!#original fic #original old fic lamao

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xueyaang · 5 years

Text

15 QUESTIONS, 15 MUTUALS

Tagged by @sozotohakai! :)

⭑ are you named after anyone ?

Allegedly, after my Great-Grandfather, named Christian. Paternal or Maternal, I’m not sure. That’s all I know, haha

⭑ when was the last time you cried ?

fucking hell.... every several episodes of Nirvana in Fire!! That show was such a ride. I need to watch it again. What really got me about it was the theme of stories, people, memories, etc... some coming back from the dead and all from the past long buried; everything being readdressed the way it ought to have been. And the best part that strikes me deep - justice and truth and integrity on all different levels is not ignored or thrown aside by those want change. That’s what really got me inspired and moved by this show. And also? Deep meaningful relationships linked by a past that slowly becomes uncovered through the show? The younger generation being upset at the collective disillusionment and passivity of the governing body and wanting change but powerless to do anything about it? fuck, hit me with all that good shit every time and I will betray every single hidden city for you.

Ah, I love Nirvana in Fire. If anyone watches it, please come yell at me about it.

⭑ do you have kids ?

2 cats: one longhair boy by the name of Tyelkormo, and one shorthair tabby with white mittens by the name of Nadia. I love them both <3 No human children, and I would like to keep it that way. But if that’s what My Lady wants, then I will oblige her and make every effort to be a suitable parent.

⭑ do you use sarcasm a lot ?

The amount of spice used and how often is pretty dependent on my mood. I don’t use it over IM or text, usually, because it can be interpreted in unintended ways. Also, if I deem that the personality I’m conversing with will take well to a dry sense of humor, I crank that shit up.

⭑ what’s the first thing you notice about people ?

Their mood or the way they react when I start talking. Theory is that it’s indicative of some anxiety that I can only assume comes from childhood and some form of parental neglect, but the theory is pending.

⭑ what’s your eye color ?

Brown!

⭑ scary movie or happy ending ?

Happy ending. I don’t like to watch scary movies, I don’t enjoy them enough X’D

⭑ any special talents ?

Same as Chris - empathy, probably, but I don’t hold it with that much value; it came at a cost and it actually makes things quite difficult for me X’D Additionally, and much more lately, a more deeply developed sense of intuition. Otherwise, not many other qualities X’D

⭑ where were you born ?

United States

⭑ what are your hobbies ?

Video games, writing rp, discussing stories (characters, plots, archetypes, nuances of relationships no matter platonic, rival, and less interested in romantic) themes!!, characterizations, etc) for just about anything I like, be it video games or books or shows or movies, intellectual discussions about various aspects of geography and recent news (except regional micropolitics, international/strategic politics only-!). I’m trying to get back into reading and cross stitching and learning the basics of embroidery, anything that will get me away from a screen. I’m also trying to enjoy the habit of physical activity again - it’s a really hard habit to build up.

⭑ do you have any pets ?

Mentioned previously. I got Tyelko (grey longhair pretty boy) the days after a funeral of someone i was quite close with, and I got Nadia after I got super angry learning that she was left behind by a family who moved away and left her outside to fend for herself.... she had 7 kittens in the weeks that followed bringing her home. I miss them all ):

⭑ what tattoos / piercings / body mods do you have ?

Lobe piercings. I’d like to get more piercings, but it’s not necessary either personally or culturally (not like my Lady!), and it would be highly impractical to get a piercing unless I took time off work for the healing process (if there isn’t a way to have an invisible post in the piercing?). I want a tattoo quite badly, but I can’t decide what I want or where so it simply hasn’t happened. Some Tolkien heraldy would be hella rad, or tengwar quotes of something motivating (obviously Ñoldorin lol)

⭑ how tall are you ?

If you round up, I’m 5′6″.

⭑ dream job ?

Hm, what I’m already doing, really. It’s been a goal for a very long time, but now that I’m here I haven’t decided what I want to be when I grow up. Possibly what I’m doing now, still as a federal employee but not with the military.

⭑ favorite subject at school?

Non-bio science classes! I adore earth science!! Physical geography, geomorphology and geology? Hnf. Meteorology, physics, dynamics? fuck yeah. Also, languages? That’s my shit.

Tagging: you, if you haven’t done it yet!

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e8luhs · 6 years

Text

WOKE UP NEW.

LISTEN ON SPOTIFY

TRACKLIST & ANNOTATIONS UNDER THE CUT! (last edited 03.16.19)

I. ARE YOU SATISFIED? / MARINA AND THE DIAMONDS

cause it’s my problem if i want to pack up and run away it’s my business if i feel the need to smoke and drink and swear it’s my problem, it’s my problem if i feel the need to hide and it’s my problem if i have no friends and feel i want to die

II. LIFESPAN / VAULTS

oh, you took what you wanted to take and yet you never wanted nothing from me oh, you took what you wanted to take and yet you never wanted nothing from me

III. RAIN IN SOHO / THE MOUNTAIN GOATS

no promise sweeter than a blood pact nothing harder to go through than a vanishing act no morning colder than the first frost no friends close than the ones we've lost

IV. LEMON GLOW / BEACH HOUSE

read my fortune too, tell me what you see cross it like a t it's all the same to me this game i play, i do it every day i promise I'll be fine, bear it every time

V. SATELLITE MIND / METRIC

i’m not suicidal i just can't get out of bed i drift into a deep fog lost where i forgot to hold it i can feel you most when i'm alone i can feel your ghost when i'm alone

VI. PEDESTRIAN AT BEST / COURTNEY BARNETT

my internal monologue is saturated analog it's scratched and drifting, i've become attached to the idea it's all a shifting dream, bittersweet philosophy i've got no idea how I even got here i'm resentful, I'm having an existential time crisis want bliss, daylight savings won't fix this mess under-worked and over-sexed, i must express my disinterest the rats are back inside my head, what would freud have said?

VII. BORN TO LOSE / SLEIGH BELLS

took a shot to the head in the back near the crib such a legend now, you were born to lose ‘cause i know that the pain keeps you close to the flame you know everything, you were born to lose

VIII. STICKS AND STONES / THE PIERCES

sticks and stones will break your bones and leave you lying in the mud but you get scared when we're alone, like i might suck your blood and i could tell you a witch's spell but it just might blow your top and you start to run just as I'm having fun and it's awfully hard to stop, it's awfully hard to stop

IX. BLACK OUT DAYS / PHANTOGRAM

speak in tongues i don't even recognize your face mirror on the wall tell me all the ways to stay away

X. THE OUTSIDER / MARINA AND THE DIAMONDS

i look myself in the face and whisper "i'm in the wrong place" is there more to lose than gain if i go on my own again? (on my own again)

XI. SPELLBOUND / SIOUXSIE AND THE BANSHEES

following the footsteps of a rag doll dance we are entranced spellbound

XII. ARTIFICIAL NOCTURNE / METRIC

i’m just as fucked up as they say i can't fake the daytime i found an entrance to escape into the dark got false lights for the sun it's an artificial nocturne an outsider's escape for a broken heart

XIII. AUTOCLAVE / THE MOUNTAIN GOATS

i am this great, unstable mass of blood and foam and no emotion that's worth having could call my heart its home my heart's an autoclave my heart's an autoclave

XIV. BAD DREAMS / PHANTOGRAM

bad things never neglect me i'm just a scene in a movie bad thoughts never arrest me i'm just a flash in a memory

XV. BEAT (HEALTH, LIFE, AND FIRE) / THAO & THE GET DOWN STAY DOWN

and oh my gunpowder and with emergency i must battle without her she is surely killing me

XVI. EVERY TEAR DISAPPEARS / ST. VINCENT

oh, the more that i struggle i'm deeper in the pit if i can show a hand then i can show a fist call the twenty-first century, tell her “give us a break”

XVII. FIREWORKS / MITSKI

one morning this sadness will fossilize and i will forget how to cry i'll keep going to work and you won't see a change save, perhaps, a slight gray in my eye

XVIII. UNICORN TOLERANCE / THE MOUNTAIN GOATS

and when the clouds do clear away get a momentary chance to see the thing i've been trying to beat to death the soft creature that i used to be the better animal i used to be

XIX. GROW UP AND BLOW AWAY / METRIC

if this is the life why does it feel so good to die today? blue to gray grow up and blow away

XX. NUMB / MARINA AND THE DIAMONDS

i feel numb most of the time lower i get, the higher i'll climb and i will wonder why i got dark only to shine looking for the golden life oh, it's a reasonable sacrifice

XXI. AMERICAN DREAM / EMILY HAINES & THE SOFT SKELETON

grab your clothes and head to the doorway if you dance out, no one complains find the place where you can be boring where you won't need to explain that you're sick in the head, and you wish you were dead or at least instead of sleeping here you prefer your own bed, come on you just suck at self-preservation versus someone else's pain

XXII. WEAR BLACK / THE MOUNTAIN GOATS

wear black when it's light outside wear black when there's no light wear black following the left hand path wear black but i get right

XXIII. SPAT OUT SPIT / LADY LAMB

was i born wild? have i been asleep this whole damn time, dreaming up a life? will i awake to find that I'm deep in the woods? and i'm snarling on all fours

XXIV. MEDULLA OBLONGATA / BUKE & GASE

since i left you with these broken fingers broken tongue broken ears from not listening false hopes and happiness in the barrel of my god

XXV. PARIS IS BURNING / ST. VINCENT

they say, “i’m on your side when nobody is, 'cause nobody is come sit right here and sleep while i slip poison in your ear”

XXVI. IN THE CRATERS ON THE MOON / THE MOUNTAIN GOATS

if the strain proves too much give up right away if the light hurts your eyes stay in your room all day

XXVII. GETAWAY / MOTHER MOTHER

we gotta get away from it all we gotta get away from everything we've grown to know we gotta get gone like on a holiday, but for longer away from all the silly things that haunt us

XXVIII. YOUR FACE LEFT BEFORE YOU / BUKE & GASE

breaking down my brick wall brain nothing worse than everything to gain too bad it's not my turn you've got witches to burn

XXIX. FUNERAL PYRE / PHANTOGRAM

my funeral pyre my ship of fire as it sinks, i rise all i see is your eyes

XXX. HOLLY / SLEIGH BELLS

wasted all day killing all the capulets!

XXXI. GUILTY / MARINA AND THE DIAMONDS

oh i’m a guilty one, and know what i have done yeah, i'm a troubled one, and i won't be forgiven

XXXII. KILLER / PHOEBE BRIDGERS

can the killer in me tame the fire in you? is there nothing left to do for us? i am sick of the chase, but i'm hungry for blood and there's nothing i can do

XXXIII. TIPTOE / THE ANTLERS

[instrumental]

XXXIV. GOODBYE, MY DANISH SWEETHEART / MITSKI

now i lay as i study a blank wall would you spare me your voice if i call? ‘cause you waited and watered my heart till it grew you just grew a little smarter too

XXXV. HERMIT THE FROG / MARINA AND THE DIAMONDS

yeah i feel i’m watered down whenever he's around i put on the crown of clowns and melt slowly to the ground

XXXVI. LAST WORDS OF A SHOOTING STAR / MITSKI

you wouldn't leave till we loved in the morning you'd learned from movies how love ought to be and you'd say you love me and look in my eyes but i know through mine you were looking in yours

XXXVII. 9TH PAWN / OHO

i'm the 9th pawn of the chessboard take it apart, take it along, dark and light squares i'm the thirteenth labor of Hercules give it a try or give it up give it up to me

XXXVIII. HUMPTY / MITSKI

i'll live in the bathtub surrounded by tiles all so square and so steady i will die in their cool, cool arms

XXXIX. I FIRE MYSELF / MARY TIMONY

a demon lured me to his bed where i fell into a poison sleep i dreamed of a river of ants inside me and they were sad and started to bleed

XL. THE POINT OF IT ALL / AMANDA PALMER

“but no one can stare at the wall as good as you, my baby-doll and you're aces for coming along you're almost human, after all and you're learning that just 'cause they call themselves friends doesn't mean they'll call...” they made the comment in jest but you've got the needle i guess that's the point of it all

XLI. SQUARE / MITSKI

your room was square i once noticed from there in your bed, as you slept and i held my breath everything had its own place and i wondered; what space would i take, in the order you kept?

XLII. SAVIOR / ST VINCENT

adore you to the grave and farther honey, i can't be your martyr maybe it's just human nature but honey, i can't be your savior

XLIII. VALLEY OF THE DOLLS / MARINA AND THE DIAMONDS

in the valley of the dolls, we sleep got a hole inside of me living with identities that do not belong to me in my life, i got this far now i’m ready for the last hoorah dying like a shooting star in the valley

XLIV. STATUETTE / EMILY HAINES & THE SOFT SKELETON

with a feather in your cap another jewel in your crown another notch in your belt you’re the captain at the helm the statuette on your shelf says you’re better than me better than me

XLV. HAVE TO EXPLODE / THE MOUNTAIN GOATS

the stage is set, someone's going to do something someone else will regret i speak in smoke signals and you answer in code the fuse will have to run out sometime something here will eventually have to explode, have to explode

XLVI. THE BOX SONG / AMANDA PALMER

and you were sure that you could keep it all off in a tower where there’d always be space and you were sure that if you read it all you would eventually come across your own name

XLVII. I DON’T SMOKE / MITSKI

if you need to be mean, be mean to me i can take it and put it inside of me if your hands need to break more than trinkets in your room you can lean on my arm as you break my heart

XLVIII. ICICLES / THE SCARY JOKES

but as for me, i can only be forgiven if im givin myself up to you on a silver serving tray must i bare myself to the stabbing of your knife and gnashing teeth, while our lovely company appears so entertained? ah yes, good etiquette demands i remain soft and accessible in the face of my own ending so i will try to be discreet; through my full-blown implosion, i’ll stay golden and retreat into my sweetest fantasy

XLIX. CODES AND KEYS / DEATH CAB FOR CUTIE

when you scream, “love you, see”, like a child throwing stones at the sky when they fall back to earth as minor chords of major works separate rooms of single life we are one we are alive

L. WASHING MACHINE HEART / MITSKI

baby, though i've closed my eyes i know who you pretend i am i know who you pretend i am

LI. THE KILLING TYPE / AMANDA PALMER

i couldn't kill to get you back and i've officially been asked i couldn't kill to save a life i'd rather a die a peaceful piece of shit-bait shame-filled coward, thanks

LII. HAVE IT OUT / MOTHER MOTHER

i have it out, i have it out, with myself, with myself, i have it out it's gonna get ugly it's gonna get messy it's gonna be world war iii of myself

LIII. CATABOLIC SEED / THE SCARY JOKES

oh i made a silly mistake (what'd you do?) i've given up more than i can take (uh oh!) and left hollows in my wake my structure's compromised but you still batter at all my fault lines i can't run, i can't hide, but you can't say i didn't try

LIV. DOPPELGANGER / THE ANTLERS

and now's he howling, but i'm muted by the horror how he's everywhere and waiting now he's just around the corner

LV. LEFT ALONE / FIONA APPLE

and now i'm hard, too hard to know i don't cry when i'm sad anymore, no no tears calcify in my tummy, fears coincide with the tow how can i ask anyone to love me when all i do is beg to be left alone?

LVI. HEEL TURN 2 / THE MOUNTAIN GOATS

spend too much of my life now trying to play fair throw my better self overboard shoot at him when he comes up for air come unhinged get revenge i don't want to die in here i don't want to die in here

LVII. NOT ABOUT LOVE / FIONA APPLE

conversation once colored by esteem became dialogue as a diagram of a play for blood took a vacation, my palate got clean now i could taste your agenda while you're spitting your cud

LVIII. SEVENTEEN / MARINA AND THE DIAMONDS

oh, you were embarrassed of me 'cause i used my tongue freely bet you wish i couldn't speak 'cause when i do, you know i tell you why you appear weak

LIX. YOUR WOMAN / WHITE TOWN

now i know your heart, i know your mind, you don't even know you're being unkind, so much for all your high brow marxist ways, just use me up and then you walk away boy, you can't play me that way

LX. DEADBODY / MIYA FOLICK

i need you to know i'm not powerless my strength lies within my gentleness and i'm already hurt so now i don't have to hide and i hold all the heads of my brothers and my sisters high

LXI. YOUR DOG / SOCCER MOMMY

i'm not a prop for you to use when you're lonely or confused i want a love that lets me breathe i've been choking on your leash

LXII. RIPE / SCREAMING FEMALES

i built this game to play and to pretend you are a dark machine and i'm a cog when engines crack, when fuel lines break off i'll save your bits and let your motor rot

LXIII. WINDOW / FIONA APPLE

i was staring out the window the whole time he was talking to me it was a filthy pane of glass i couldn't get a clear view and as he went on and on it wasn't the outside world i could see just the filthy pane that i was looking through

LXIV. BLUE TRASH MATTRESS FIRE / SLEIGH BELLS

i'll do it, i'll jump not for kicks, not for fun but because this shit is too much it's fucking me up enough is enough, enough is enough!

LXV. BITE THE HAND / BOYGENIUS

who do you think you are? who do you think i am? what do you wanna say? what do you think will change? maybe i'm afraid of you maybe i'm afraid of you

LXVI. VENGEANCE / HOT SUGAR

[instrumental]

LXVII. EYES ON FIRE / BLUE FOUNDATION

i'm taking it slow feeding my flame shuffling the cards of your game and just in time, in the right place suddenly i will play my ace

LXVIII. NO CHILDREN / THE MOUNTAIN GOATS

and i hope when you think of me years down the line you can't find one good thing to say and i'd hope that if i found the strength to walk out you'd stay the hell out of my way

LXIX. FUCK WAS I / JENNY OWEN YOUNGS

love grows in me like a tumor parasite bent on devouring its host i’m developing my sense of humor till i can laugh at my heart between your teeth till i can laugh at my face beneath your feet

LXX. SERPENTS / SHARON VAN ETTEN

serpents in my mind, i am searching for your crimes everything changes in time you'll stay frozen in time collaging girls, controlling minds you hold the mirror well to everybody else

LXXI. IF YOU FEEL BETTER / EMILY AUTUMN

if you feel better telling me i'm cruel saying i'm unfeeling i don't mind if it's necessary, if it helps you out crying that i'm heartless it's alright

LXXII. THE GOOD THAT WON’T COME OUT / RILO KILEY

i do this thing where i think i'm real sick but i won't go to the doctor to find out about it 'cause they make you stand real still in a real small place as they chartup your insides and put them on display they'd see all of it, all of me, all of it

LXXIII. THE BODY IS A BLADE / JAPANESE BREAKFAST

try your best to slowly withdraw from the darkest impulses of your heart try your best to feel and receive your body is blade that cuts a path from day to day

LXXIV. GET LONELY / THE MOUNTAIN GOATS

and i will go downtown, stand in the shadows of the buildings and button up my coat, trying to stay strong, spirit willing and i will come back home, maybe call some friends maybe paint some pictures it all depends and i will get lonely, and gasp for air and look up at the high windows, and see your face up there

LXXV. MOTION SICKNESS / PHOEBE BRIDGERS

i hate you for what you did and i miss you like a little kid i faked it every time but that's alright i can hardly feel anything i hardly feel anything at all

LXXVI. EMPTY / METRIC

sickness was fixing me some coughed out my heart in the last stall now that the damage is done i never miss it at all

LXXVII. TINDER / ORIGAMIBRO

[instrumental]

LXXVIII. REMEMBER MY NAME / MITSKI

'cause i need somebody to remember my name after all that i can do for them is done i need someone to remember me

LXXIX. THE EXECUTION OF ALL THINGS / RILO KILEY

soldiers come quickly, i feel the earth beneath my feet i'm feeling badly, but it's not an attempt at decency and if you're well off, well then i'm happy some for you but i'd rather not celebrate my defeat and humiliation here with you

LXXX. THE THUNDER ANSWERED BACK / Ó

i screamed out, “how'd it get this bad?” and the thunder answered back “if you know not what you lack then you must unturn your back your inside is overcast and you are tethered to your past and it must feel like fucking hell to be a patchwork of yourself a bunch of scraps thrown and sewn around your bones and though you're alone it's holding you too tightly but who are you? from where do you come? what do you believe in? and whom do you love?"

LXXXI. DIE HAPPY / METRIC

this city is thick with common thieves still passing around the same disease who's running this town and why are we? still drinking that kool-aid like it's free

LXXXII. ALL MY PRIDE / BLACK HONEY

all my scars will heal in time now he's gone with all my pride everybody's saying what i need to do but i haven't got a thing to prove, prove to you

LXXXIII. HEADS WILL ROLL / YEAH YEAH YEAHS

glitter on the west streets silver over everything the rivers all wet you're all chrome

LXXXIV. ART OF DOUBT / METRIC

you said "don't let your heart give out" no, i won't let my heart give out you said "don't let your breath run out" no, i won't let my breath run out

LXXXV. BLACK EYE/BURNT THUMB / METRONOMY

[instrumental]

LXXXVI. KLAPP KLAPP / LITTLE DRAGON

somebody from my heart sang i could turn off and never wake up and everything's clear, my breath made like-steam fake feel better fallin' apart, apart, apart, apart, apart

LXXXVII. VANISHING ACT / THE MOUNTAIN GOATS

[instrumental]

LXXXVIII. AUBERGINE / LADY LAMB

i was unborn when i was younger i was unborn when i was younger but i was rebuilt when you spoke i awoke when you spoke

LXXXIX. PSYCHIC READER / BAD BAD HATS

when i look at you, i get a good vibration stay on the line until i hit your station i was meant for you so i can be patient, yeah

XC. BETS AGAINST THE VOID / THE SCARY JOKES

the sun is just a copper coin i flip in bets against the void imitating choice 'til i feel good again, i'll keep them in a tin can then i'll have copper coins to spare

XCI. GIRL / THE INTERNET

passion burning, causing rapture of laughter pressure building, falling faster and faster if i told you that you rock my world, i want you around me would you let me call you my girl? (my girlfriend, my girlfriend) i can give you the life you deserve, just say the word and i got you, baby i got you

XCII. BUZZCUT SEASON / LORDE

i remember when your head caught flame it kissed your scalp and caressed your brain well you laughed, baby it's okay it's buzz cut season anyway

XCIII. GEYSER / MITSKI

you're my number one you're the one i want and i've turned down every hand that has beckoned me to come

XCIV. A KISS / THE BLOW

those dances that I did, they really weren't all that fun to do i only did them 'cause they were the only ones i knew they called me player, i just played who i thought i should be i'd still be her if you hadn't come and interrupted me from the kiss

XCV. CRANE YOUR NECK / LADY LAMB

and i placed my palm upon your collarbone and i wished to fall asleep deep in your marrow as gently as a mouse curled up in a ball as gently as a mouse until tomorrow

XCVI. DANCE YRSELF CLEAN (COVER) / MS MR

walking up to me expecting walking up to me expecting words, it happens all the time present company accepted present company, except the worst it happens every night

XCVII. SOFT SOUNDS FROM ANOTHER PLANET / JAPANESE BREAKFAST

in search of a soft sound from another planet in search of a quiet place to lay this to rest striving for goodness while the cruel men win there's no part of me left that can feel or hear it

XCVIII. A BETTER SON/DAUGHTER / RILO KILEY

and sometimes when you're on, you're really fucking on and your friends, they sing along and they love you but the lows are so extreme that the good seems fucking cheap and it teases you for weeks in its absence but you'll fight and you'll make it through, you'll fake it if you have to and you'll show up for work with a smile and you'll be better and you'll be smarter and more grown up and a better daughter or son, and a real good friend

XCIX. TRAUMA / HOT SUGAR

[instrumental]

C. WOKE UP NEW / THE MOUNTAIN GOATS

the first time i made coffee for just myself, i made too much of it but i drank it all, just 'cause you hate it when i let things go to waste and i wandered through the house like a little boy, lost at the mall and an astronaut could've seen the hunger in my eyes from space

#plylsts #we are back in business baybee... no actual cover art this time though because im lazy. soz #ill probably add some at some point though. someday #cataclysmalbound #also literally so sorry for you mobile people out there but it had to be this way. glad you were all willing to sacrifice yourselves

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interviewexperttips · 3 years

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Top 50 Sql Interview Questions As Well As Responses

Auto increment allows the user to create a serial number to be generated whenever a new document is placed in the table. VEHICLE INCREMENT is the key phrase for Oracle, AUTO_INCREMENT in MySQL as well as IDENTIFICATION keyword can be made use of in SQL WEB SERVER for auto-incrementing. Primarily this search phrase is made use of to develop the main key for the table. Normalization sets up the existing tables and also its areas within the database, leading to minimal replication. It is used to simplify a table as much as possible while keeping the one-of-a-kind areas. If you have truly little to claim for yourself, the interviewer power think you have null to say. pl sql meeting concerns I make myself feel divine ahead the meeting begins. With this concern, the recruiter will evaluate you on exactly how you prioritise your job checklist. I expect functions with damien once again in the future tense. You mightiness need a compounding of different types of inquiries in order to to the full cover the problem, and also this may split betwixt participants. Prospects turn up to interviews with a surface of thrilling you. A main trick is a special sort of one-of-a-kind trick. A foreign secret is made use of to keep the referential web link integrity between 2 data tables. It protects against actions that can damage web links in between a kid and also a parent table. A primary key is made use of to specify a column that distinctively identifies each row. Null worth and also replicate values are not allowed to be entered in the primary essential column. Nonetheless, you might not be offered this tip, so it gets on you to remember that in such a scenario a subquery is specifically what you require. After you undergo the fundamental SQL meeting inquiries, you are most likely to be asked something more certain. As well as there's no far better sensation in the world than acing a inquiry you exercised. Yet if all you do is practice SQL interview questions while neglecting the essentials, something is going to be missing. Demand too many questions might leap the meeting as well as get to them, however demand none will certainly make you look unenthusiastic or unprepared. When you are taking the test, you ought to prioritise making sure that all parts of it run. Leading 50 google analytics interview concerns & responses. Nerve-coaching from the meeting men that will certainly blast your agitated sensations to make sure that you can be laser-focused and also surefooted when you land in the hot spot. Terrific, trying, as well as im kind of gallant i was qualified to fix it under such stress. Those that pass the phone or photo interview move on to the in-person meetings. Once more, it's crafty question, and also not just in damage of functions it out. On the far side allowing myself to get some shouting meemies out, i genuinely delighted in the opportunity to get a better feel for campus/atmosphere. Knowing the really particular response to some very specific SQL meeting questions is great, however it's not going to aid you if you're asked something unanticipated. Don't get me wrong-- targeted prep work can certainly aid.

Note that this not a Not Null constraint and do not confuse the default value restraint with prohibiting the Void entries. The default worth for the column is established only when the row is created for the first time and column worth is ignored on the Insert. Denormalization is a database optimization method for raising a data source framework efficiency by including repetitive information to several tables. Normalization is a data source design technique to arrange tables to decrease data redundancy and also data reliance. SQL restraints are the set of regulations to restrict the insertion, removal, or updating of information in the databases. They restrict the sort of information entering a table for maintaining information accuracy and integrity. CREATE-- Used to create the database or its things like table, index, function, sights, activates, and so on. A unique key is utilized to distinctly recognize each document in a database. A CHECK constraint is utilized to restrict the worths or sort of information that can be kept in a column. A Main trick is column whose worths uniquely recognize every row in a table. The primary function of a main type in a information table is to preserve the interior integrity of a information table. Query/Statement-- They're often used interchangeably, however there's a mild difference. Listed here are https://is.gd/snW9y3 concerns as well as answers that reaffirms your knowledge regarding SQL and also supply new insights as well as learning about the language. Go through these SQL interview inquiries to freshen your expertise prior to any kind of interview. Consequently, your following job won't be about describing what SQL constraints as well as tricks mean in general, although you must be extremely knowledgeable about the idea. You will certainly rather be given the possibility to show your ability to elaborate on a certain sort of an SQL restraint-- the international vital restraint. Write a SQL query to find the 10th tallest optimal (" Altitude") from a " Hill" table. Alteration to the column with VOID worth or perhaps the Insert operation defining the Void worth for the column is enabled. Click on the Establish Primary Trick toolbar switch to set the StudId column as the main vital column. A RIGHT OUTER SIGN UP WITH is one of the SIGN UP WITH procedures that enables you to specify a SIGN UP WITH provision. It preserves the unequaled rows from the Table2 table, joining them with a NULL in the shape of the Table1 table. And then, as presently as we reduced that possibility, everybody broken out laughing however you can't be in on the method." there are many " weak points" that you can become favorable situations to share an response that your interviewer will respect as well as see. - this environments covers the ironware, web servers, operating system, internet browsers, other software program system, and so on. Duties that you were not able-bodied to be full. "i determine which project is near considerable, and then i try to do that project first previously complete the being successful one. Completely instance, there are approach of accounting plan, arsenal bundle, and so on. While it's less complicated to ask generic concerns, you risk not obtaining the selective info you need to make the best hiring resolution. Inquiry optimization is a process in which data source system compares different inquiry approaches and select the question with the least expense. Main vital produced on more than one column is called composite main key. ERASE eliminates some or all rows from a table based on the problem. ABBREVIATE removes ALL rows from a table by de-allocating the memory web pages. The procedure can not be rolled back DECREASE command gets rid of a table from the data source entirely. The main distinction in between both is that DBMS conserves your information as files whereas RDMS saves your info in tabular kind. Also, as the keyword Relational indicates, RDMS allows various tables to have relationships with one another using Main Keys, Foreign Keys etc. This creates a vibrant chain of hierarchy in between tables which also provides handy restriction on the tables. Presume that there are at https://tinyurl.com/c7k3vf9t in the Hill table. That's why leading business are progressively moving far from common concerns as well as are rather offering candidates a crack at real-life interior circumstances. "At Airbnb, we gave prospective hires accessibility to the devices we utilize and also a vetted data collection, one where we understood its limitations and issues. It permitted them to concentrate on the form of the data and structure solution to issues that were significant to us," notes Geggatt. https://geekinterview.net for a certain condition prior to inserting information into a table. If the information passes all the Inspect restraints after that the information will certainly be put right into the table otherwise the information for insertion will certainly be thrown out. Learn More makes sure that all values in a column please specific conditions. A Not Void restriction limits the insertion of void worths right into a column. If we are utilizing a Not Void Constraint for a column after that we can not overlook the value of this column throughout insertion of information right into the table. The default restriction allows you to establish a default value for the column.

#sql interview questions #sql interview questions and answers #sql

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redkiteradio · 5 years

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12 Stats About best beginner keyboard piano

Correction Appended

On an album of bittersweet childrens tunes that she wrote in excess of ten years back, the woman who came for being recognized only because the piano teacher available what, in hindsight, looks as if an eerie glimpse of her possess long run.

Im going away today to a spot so far away, in which nobody is familiar with my title, she wrote inside the lyrics of the music named Going.

When she wrote that tune, she was youthful and vivacious, a piano Trainer and freelance audio writer who beloved Beethoven and jazz, sunsets and river sounds, lengthy walks and every little thing about New York.

On a kind of beloved walks, by way of Central Park in the brilliant Solar of the June day in 1996, a homeless drifter beat her and attempted to rape her, leaving her clinging to lifetime. After the assault, the words to her music came real. She moved absent, from New York City, out of her outdated life, and all but her closest buddies didn't know her title. To the remainder of the planet, she was — much like the a lot more renowned jogger attacked in Central Park seven several years before — an anonymous symbol of the urban nightmare. She was the piano Instructor.

Now, within the 10th anniversary from the attack, she's celebrating what seems to be her total recovery from brain trauma. She is forty two, married, with a little boy or girl. She is Kyle Kevorkian McCann, the piano Trainer, and she or he would like to tell her story, her way.

Her health care provider informed her it could consider ten years to Get better, and Sunday was that talismanic anniversary. I experience my lifetime has become redefined by Central Park, she reported several times in the past, her voice soft and hopeful. Before park; immediately after park. Will there ever be a time when I dont Feel, Oh, this is the 10th anniversary, the 11th anniversary?

She spoke in her modest ranch property inside a wooded subdivision in a The big apple suburb. She sat in the eating home strewn with toys, surrounded by photos of her cherubic, dark-haired 2-year-outdated daughter. A Steinway grand filled 50 percent the home, and at one particular level she sat down and performed. Her taking part in was forceful, but she appeared embarrassed to Perform more than a few bars, and shrugged, rather than answering, when questioned the identify in the piece. She requested that her daughter and her city not be named.

She calls that working day, June 4, 1996, the working day After i was hurt.

Hers was the main in the string of attacks by the identical person on 4 women about 8 days. The final victim, Evelyn Alvarez, 65, was crushed to Loss of life as she opened her Park Avenue dry-cleansing store, and finally, the assailant, John J. Royster, was convicted of murder and sentenced to daily life in prison.

But the attack over the piano Trainer could be the 1 folks feel to keep in mind essentially the most. Part of the fascination has got to do with echoes of the 1989 attack over the Central Park jogger. But In addition it frightened individuals in a way the attack on the jogger did not since its conditions ended up so mundane.

It did not happen inside a remote Portion of the park late in the evening, but in close proximity to a well known playground at three during the afternoon. It might have transpired to any individual. The stress was heightened with the thriller from the piano lecturers identity.

For three days, as law enforcement and doctors tried using to learn who she was, she lay within a coma in her medical center mattress, anonymous. Her dad and mom were on holiday vacation and her boyfriend, also a musician, was in Europe, on tour. Last but not least, among her pupils recognized a police sketch and was capable of recognize her in the medical center by her fingers, mainly because her face was swollen past recognition. The law enforcement did not release her identify.

The very last thing she remembers about June four, 1996, is supplying a lesson in her studio condominium on West 57th Road, then putting her lengthy hair in the ponytail and heading out to get a wander. She would not remember the attack, While she has listened to the accounts with the law enforcement and prosecutors.

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To me its just like a reality I figured out and memorized, she mentioned. Like I were being a university student at school finding out historical past.

She isn't going to contemplate the man who did it. I may need been angry for the moment, although not for much longer than that, she stated. How could I be indignant at John Royster? He was declared not insane, but I guess by our standards he was.

Dr. Jamshid Ghajar, her medical professional at Big apple Medical center-Cornell Health-related Center, as it had been known in 1996, instructed reporters that she had a ten per cent chance of survival. Physicians had to remove her forehead bone, which was later changed, to generate area for her swelling Mind. When her mom designed a public appeal to pray for my daughter, hundreds did.

Right after 8 days, she arrived away from a coma, very first in a vegetative state, then in the childlike point out. As she recovered, she slept very little and talked continuously, at times in gibberish. I had been getting mad at men and women every time they didnt respond to these words and phrases, she claimed.

Like an Alzheimers patient, she had little quick-expression memory and would neglect readers when they still left the room.

Around various months, she had to relearn the way to stroll, gown, browse and generate. Her boyfriend, Tony Scherr, frequented every day to Engage in guitar for her. He inspired her to Enjoy the piano, towards the recommendation of her Actual physical therapists, who imagined she can be discouraged by her inability to play the best way she when experienced. Mr. Scherr performed Beatles duets with her, participating in the still left-hand part whilst she performed the correct.

Which was my very best therapy, she reported.

In August, she moved again dwelling to New Jersey, along with her father, an engineer, and mother, a schoolteacher. She frequented outdated haunts and termed pals, making an attempt to restore her shattered memory. I was quite obsessive about remembering, she reported. Any memory decline was to me an indication of abnormality or deficit.

Her therapists believed her progress was terrific, but her two sisters protested that she was not the deep thinker she had been.

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What bothered her most was that she had dropped a chance to cry, as though a faucet within her brain were turned off. One particular evening, nine months after she was harm, she stayed up late to look at the John Grisham Film A The perfect time to Eliminate. Just after her father experienced absent to bed, she watched a courtroom scene of Samuel Jacksons character on demo for killing two Guys who had raped his younger daughter.

The faucet opened, and also the tears trickled down her cheeks. I thought of my mother and father, my father, and the things they went through, she stated. Very little by small, my experience returned, my depth of brain returned.

Urged by her sisters, she went back again to highschool and bought a masters diploma in songs education.

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Not all the things went perfectly. She and Mr. Scherr split up five years after the attack, although they continue to be friends. She dated other Males, but she usually advised them with regard to the attack instantly — she could not support it, she reported — and so they never ever referred to as for just a 2nd day.

We've got to find you anyone, her friend David Phelps, a guitar player, claimed four years in the past, right before introducing her to Liam McCann, a computer technician and amateur drummer. For once, she did not say something about the attack until finally she acquired to grasp Mr. McCann, after which you can when she did, he admired her power.

Mayor Rudolph W. Giuliani, who had frequently frequented her at her bedside while she was inside the healthcare facility, married them in his Moments Sq. Office environment. She wore a blue costume and pearls. Although she was pregnant, inside of a burst of creativity, she and her pals recorded While Had been Younger, an album of childrens songs that she had written before the attack, such as the song Shifting. Her ex-boyfriend, Mr. Scherr, generated the CD. On it, her husband plays drums and she or he performs electrical piano.

Is her everyday living as it was? Not accurately, however she is hesitant to attribute the variations to her injuries. Her previous two piano pupils left her, without contacting to elucidate why, she stated. She has resumed playing classical tunes, but straightforward pieces, for the reason that her daughter would not give her the perfect time to practice. As for jazz, I dont even attempt, she reported.

She want to drive more, feeling stranded inside the suburbs, but she is definitely rattled. She attempts to be material with being residence and caring for her daughter.

Dr. Ghajar, a scientific professor of neurological surgical procedure at what on earth is now termed New York-Presbyterian Hospital/Weill Cornell Clinical Heart, who operated on Ms. Kevorkian McCann after the assault, said past week that her level of Restoration was unusual. Shes in essence ordinary, he explained.

Other authorities, who are not Individually aware of Ms. Kevorkian McCanns scenario, tend to be more cautious.

Regaining the ability to play the piano may include an Virtually mechanical course of action, a semiautomatic remember of what the fingers ought to do, reported Dr. Yehuda Ben-Yishay, a professor of clinical rehabilitation medication at New York College School of Medicine. At the time brain-wounded, you happen to be generally brain-hurt, For the remainder of your daily life, Dr. Ben-Yishay reported. There isn't a remedy, There is certainly only intense compensation.

The more telling A part of a Restoration, in his perspective, is psychological, and on that rating he counts Ms. Kevorkian McCanns relationship and child as a major victory.

For her element, the piano teacher knows she has modified, but she has built her peace with it. I used to be kind of a hyper —— I dont know if I had been a sort A, but I used to be bold, she says. Why was I so formidable? I had been a piano teacher. I dont determine what the ambition was about. I really did return to the person Im purported to be.

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