#best paid it jobs in india
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99edu · 11 months ago
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Top 25 Highest Paying IT Jobs in India
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In today's digital age, the Information Technology (IT) industry plays a crucial role in shaping the economy. As technology continues to advance, the demand for skilled IT professionals in India is on the rise. Here are the top 25 highest paying IT jobs in India that offer lucrative opportunities for professionals in this field.
Data Scientist
Data scientists are highly sought after in the IT industry due to their expertise in analyzing complex data sets to provide valuable insights for businesses.
Cloud Architect
Cloud architects design and manage cloud computing strategies for organizations, making them essential in the era of digital transformation.
Cybersecurity Manager
With the increasing threat of cyber attacks, cybersecurity managers are in high demand to protect sensitive data and secure networks.
Artificial Intelligence (AI) Engineer
AI engineers develop and implement AI solutions, making significant contributions to the field of automation and machine learning.
Blockchain Developer
Blockchain developers are skilled in creating decentralized applications, smart contracts, and digital currencies using blockchain technology.
DevOps Engineer
DevOps engineers play a vital role in streamlining software development processes, ensuring seamless collaboration between development and operations teams.
IT Project Manager
IT project managers oversee the planning, execution, and delivery of IT projects, ensuring that they are completed within budget and on schedule.
Full-Stack Developer
Full-stack developers are proficient in both front-end and back-end development, making them valuable assets in creating dynamic web applications.
Mobile App Developer
With the increasing use of smartphones, mobile app developers are in high demand for creating user-friendly and innovative mobile applications.
Big Data Engineer
Big data engineers design and maintain large-scale data processing systems, handling massive volumes of data to extract valuable insights.
UX/UI Designer
UX/UI designers are responsible for creating intuitive and visually appealing user interfaces, enhancing the overall user experience.
Software Development Manager
Software development managers lead teams of software developers, ensuring the successful delivery of high-quality software products.
Network Architect
Network architects design and implement complex networking solutions, ensuring the seamless operation of communication networks.
IT Director
IT directors provide strategic guidance and leadership for IT departments, overseeing the implementation of technology solutions within organizations.
Systems Architect
Systems architects design and integrate complex IT systems, ensuring that they meet the functional and technical requirements of organizations.
IoT Solutions Architect
IoT solutions architects design and implement innovative solutions for the Internet of Things (IoT), connecting devices and enabling data exchange.
Machine Learning Engineer
Machine learning engineers develop algorithms and models to enable machines to make data-driven decisions, revolutionizing various industries.
ERP Consultant
ERP consultants specialize in implementing and customizing enterprise resource planning (ERP) systems to improve business processes.
Data Warehouse Architect
Data warehouse architects design and build scalable data storage and retrieval systems, enabling organizations to efficiently manage and analyze large volumes of data.
IT Security Consultant
IT security consultants assess and mitigate security risks within organizations, implementing strategies to protect against cyber threats.
Quality Assurance (QA) Manager
QA managers oversee the testing and quality assurance processes for software and IT systems, ensuring that they meet the required standards.
Database Administrator
Database administrators manage and maintain database systems, ensuring data security, integrity, and optimal performance.
IT Compliance Manager
IT compliance managers ensure that organizations adhere to industry regulations and standards, minimizing legal and security risks.
IT Business Analyst
IT business analysts bridge the gap between IT and business stakeholders, analyzing and translating business requirements into technical solutions.
These top 25 highest paying IT jobs in India offer diverse and rewarding career opportunities for professionals with the right skills and expertise. As the IT industry continues to evolve, staying updated with the latest trends and technologies is essential for professionals aiming to excel in their careers. To learn more about visit us - https://99eedu.com/list-of-top-25-highest-paying-it-jobs-in-india/
If you want to take the Best Digital Marketing Course in Kolkata then visit Us - 99EEdu Institute Follow Us- on Facebook / Instagram.
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niilmuniversitykaithal · 2 months ago
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At NIILM University, students are equipped with the skills needed to enter these high-paying engineering careers, ensuring that they are prepared for the highest-paying jobs for engineers in the modern economy. With the right qualifications, engineers can tap into the highest-paying engineering careers, making them leaders in both technology and innovation.
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manasastuff-blog · 7 months ago
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Which Govt.Job has Highest Salary in India#govtjobs #indianarmy #ias #ips #motivation #nda #manasadefenceacademy #trendingshorts #viral #ytshorts
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dami-is-delusional · 3 months ago
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Fighting or Flirting?: A Series of Confusing Events (seriously. someone stop them.) - Steve Rogers x ExHydra!Male!Reader
Summary: You used to be an experiment, curated by Hydra to be a living weapon. Somewhere along the line, SHIELD saved you and decided to place you with the Avengers. As the superficial leader, Steve Rogers tried his best to welcome you. Somehow it all went downhill from there... until it didn't!
(enemies to lovers, might not be the most accurate Steve, my second fic ever so i apologize in advance.)
PART TWO: Meeting the Avengers (and your downfall... jk it's just your future bf!)
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If someone were to see your expression on the car ride to the Avengers tower, they would've assumed someone had just killed your puppy. But nope, you were simply upset that you had to join the team of heroes. Were you even going to get paid for this? Probably not. You sighed, the agent who was driving paid no mind. Now, one might be questioning why you were so against joining the Avengers. If it were anyone else, they probably would've been absolutely thrilled! Who wouldn't want to be in the same space as the heroes of New York? You. That's who.
It wasn't like you had anything against them. No, quite the opposite. You admired their heroism and their desire to keep people safe. You found it noble and extremely cool. It was like something out of your comic books. The real problem was the fact that you would have to work with them. As in teamwork. As in talking to them. As in socializing and having to hold conversations.
Due to your experience at HYDRA, you knew how to do many things. Like how to intimidate and interrogate people into giving you information. How to sneak around buildings without making a sound. How to end someone's life in 74 different ways. You know, the basics! What you didn't know how to do was how to interact with other human beings. Making conversation past a basic introduction? Not your thing! Turns out that being isolated from humanity for a good portion of your life doesn't exactly do wonders for your social life. When SHIELD took you in, you were perfectly content with going on solo missions where you only had yourself to depend on. That's what most of your life has been like anyways. It wasn't anything new. You went from one set routine at HYDRA to another set routine at SHIELD, both in which you were by yourself.
Now, you were being added to a team of people who already knew each other pretty well. You would be an outsider who didn't even know how to knock on the door. You didn't know how people behaved around each other. You didn't know how to get closer to people. You had very low hopes on surviving this. You sighed once more and the agent driver ignored you and your brooding once more as well.
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The tall and imposing Avengers tower stood like a mean taunt. Poor little Y/N is going to have to function like a normal human being! Let's hope they don't secretly hate you! You looked up at it and grimaced. It almost felt like the building was making fun of you and already predicting your inevitable doom.
"Maybe doom is a bit much. Oh, who am I kidding? If I'm lucky, the building will explode and I won't have to talk to anyone," you thought hopefully. You looked at the tower for a couple more seconds. No explosion. You sighed for what seemed like the hundredth time that day. Before you could decide to run away to India, you stepped into the building.
The elevator ride up to the floor you were told to go to was nerve wracking. Questions and doubts swirled inside your mind like a snowstorm trying to keep you frozen where you stood.
“What if I can't do my job properly? What if I can’t figure out how a team works? What if I trip when I step out of the elevator and that’s all they think about?” Luckily (and unluckily) for you, your thoughts were brought to a stop when the doors of the elevator opened. Taking a deep breath and giving yourself speedrun mini pep talks in your mind, you took your first step as an Avenger.
CRASH.
Several people stumbled over to the elevator and tried their hardest (and failed miserably) to look normal and stoic. Clint Barton and Tony Stark seemed to have toppled over each other in an attempt to be first. Natasha Romanoff and Bruce Banner approached in a much more orderly fashion, the former looking as though she was going to whack the first duo. Finally, the poster boy of all of America. Steve Rogers. How could someone look like a Greek statue and a golden retriever?
“So these are the Avengers… at least I didn’t trip!” you thought, feeling the most joy you could muster up from this day.
The owner of the building and the man who could probably buy your entire life with one phone call started to speak first.
"So you're the new member that Eye-Patch was telling us about! Welcome to my- our tower," Tony said in greeting, correcting himself after a sharp nudge from Natasha. You knew both Natasha and Clint since they were also SHIELD agents like yourself. You hoped that they could help you out so that you didn't actually have to talk to someone entirely knew about it.
"Yeah, I'm Y/N L/N," you answered simply. You were already off to an awkward start as you stood there, unsure of what to say. You had expected this, of course, but it felt ten times more unbearable in real life.
"It's nice to meet you. I'm Steve Rogers, welcome to the team," came a kind and gentle voice.
You looked over at the source and saw Captain America himself, smiling politely. What were you supposed to say to that? You didn't want to lie and say you were happy to be here.
"Shit, should I smile back? Do I say thank you? Oh wait, a thank you sounds right..."
Hoping no one took note of your obvious silent panic and hesitance, you cleared your throat, "Uh, thank you. I hope... we can get along...?" you weren't sure if you were actually replying or asking a question. At this point, you were just relieved that you managed to say something at all.
To your surprise, the recently defrosted Super Soldier just continued smiling. It was beginning to creep you out. "I'm sure we all will. We're excited to have someone new! You should join us for lunch, Stark is taking us to some shawarma place," Steve offered, his golden boy smile seemingly glowing and radiating with his optimism.
The idea of being thrown into a group social setting right off the bat made you want to jump out of a window. You prayed to some divine being that your face didn't automatically react and show your distaste to such a plan.
"I'm okay, thank you. I'm just gonna... find my room and settle down... and stuff," Lord, you wanted to shoot yourself because of how stupid you probably sounded to them. You saw the slightest falter in Wonder Boy's face but it was gone the next milisecond.
"That's alright! You do that. We can all get together another time," he suggested. You just sort of laughed awkwardly and walked past them with your bags. You wanted nothing more than to hide in a hole and never come out.
"F.R.I.D.A.Y is gonna help you find your room!" Tony called out as the group walked over to the elevator. You turned back slightly to nod in acknowledgement, even though you had no idea who the hell 'Friday' was. As you did, you noticed that Steve was staring at you oddly. He immediately looked away when you caught him. Weird... but who were you to judge?
The elevator door closed and you let out a shaky sigh. How long would you have to repeat the tedious and torturous act of making conversation? You picked up your bags, ready to crash into a bed.
Now for future references, if anyone asked you if you screamed louder than a tornado warning siren when a disembodied, robotic voice began talking, you will deny it with your whole body and soul.
So that's who F.R.I.D.A.Y is...
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A/N: This totally did not take almost a full month to make, no you're just being crazy. I don't procrastinate EVER.
Side note, I don't know why I put this off for so long. I will try my best to be a tad bit more consistent in the future.
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libraford · 6 months ago
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When we got married, a friend of ours was just getting into being a professional photographer so he did our wedding for mates rates. Because he was so new he hadn’t yet developed his ‘photographer backbone’ so felt really uncomfortable asking people to do things like get out of the way or telling them where they should stand. My sister, maid of honour and no shrinking violet, did some yelling on his behalf but it shows in some of the posed photos.
He’s very successful now and much better at telling people what he needs from them to get the shots they want but still looks back on his early days when he went out on his own with a shudder. It was very difficult for him to balance the conflict you describe, trying to make sure no one is unhappy with you so you get repeat customers, vs making sure people do what he needs so he can work safely and get the right shots. Once he started getting regulars, he felt more confident in expressing what was needed - he still hates wedding photography though lol
The very first wedding I ever did... was a couple from India. And they did kind of a blended wedding of modern and traditional, kept the celebrations short to only 12 hours. There were three photographers- me, my mentor (who was the official book), and her friend. There was also a video crew and every person had their phones out for the whole ceremony, so there was no shortage of footage.
My mentor had to bow out early due to a medical emergency in her family. So now its just two of us.
Even with everyone having their phones out, the guests knew that if someone had an actual camera, that they should do their best to steer clear of it because we were hired to provide a service. They kept to the sides. One of the guests who brought his own camera was encouraged to shoo people out of the frame because he knew the language better, so we treated him as part of the crew so he can also get all the good shots he wants. (I have taken to calling this the 'Uncle Camera' character and its become a useful technique to identify Uncle Camera and give him a Job.)
But with the confirmation ceremony I was at yesterday, it wasn't a case of 50 people taking pictures of one couple from their seats, it was a case of 50 people taking pictures of 60 individuals from the center aisle.
And I did not have an Uncle Camera to explain to them in Spanish that they needed to leave space for the official photographer or there would be no official group shot.
So someone's head got in the shot.
Oh well.
I got paid for the hour I was there.
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belowzion · 10 months ago
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Below Zion: Rethinking Valentino
Hello everyone! Today I wanted to show you how we've been rewriting Valentino. As stated in my previous blogs, the characters are given different feels to make them as distinct from their show counterparts as possible so that eventually this can be its own thing. While still inhabiting the pimp lord aspects, Valentinos way of thinking, motivations and even what he does in his past-time should change how this character works and why I grew a fascination in writing about his character recently. Make no mistake, he is a villain and funnily enough, a stark contrast to Charlies ideas.
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"Oh, the sex work is great! Tino is garbage. See, I haven't left the industry. I just ran from that self-rightous prick…" - Hip-Lash, one of Angels best friends, left the 'industry'. Hasn't seen Angel for 30 years. To understand where Valentino comes from and why he is the kind of person he is, some context is needed. In Below Zion, sinners are completely incapable of making pacts with other people. Their power instead depends on how sinful they were in life. If you sinned too much, you get thrown into Penance Machines, where you are excessively tortured and bleed out all that sinful energy for runes! Runes pass off as currency in Hell. But if you were not a cannibal serial child killer, you get to enjoy some amazing powers! Or if you got bailed out of these machines through some higher power. While nothing too crazy like what Alastor might be capable of, these sinners are still very powerful with the Wrath they possess. Valentino is no exception. His hazbin is an interesting case of a person hiding the true degeneracy that they possess deep within them. See, Valentino, known before as Mikhail "Milo" Tarentino, was a yoga teacher, originating from India! The guy, not really enjoying his position in India due to the fact that yoga was already quite popular there, decided to move to Italy where yoga wasn't as prevalent! Tarentino was a social butterfly, able to get many contacts and many students into his class! However, his true debauchery also began here. He would often have sexual intercourse with his own students, coercing them, grooming them and eventually fucking them! It does not help the matters that most of these women were married.
"Oh goodness, I did not expect to have a new neighbour! Welcome! I actually remember you, you know? You agreed to collect dirty things for Butcher Pete." Sledge nods. "So I did." "Gross job. Glad they had rubber gloves my size." He says, raising a paw, and wiggling his pudgy fingers… It reminds Alastor a little of one of those asian lucky-cats… cute. "Why ya callin' him 'Butcher Pete'?"
"Oh! No reason! There is just a very catchy song that I wish I NEVER paid any attention to the lyrics of!"
He says as he spins his microphone!
"Would you like to give it a listen? It reminds me of the kind of sinners that I find often here in Lust…" "Sure."
From Als staff - a combination of magical and technological - comes out a very upbeat tune! "Hey everybody, did the news get around? About a guy named Butcher Pete! Oh, Pete just flew into this town, And he's choppin' up all the women's meat!
He's hackin' and wackin' and smackin'! He's hackin' and wackin' and smackin'! He's hackin' and wackin' and smackin'! He just hacks, wacks, choppin' that meat!"
And also... this.
"Yeah, I see your point there, Al... but I got a question for ya~" He says with a sinister grin~
"Very well, i shall bite! Shoot!" "Say, have you ever had a pump and dump at a family reunion~?"
"[Oh no...]" The T.V Demon grows... concerned for what is about to be retold.
Velvette begins to giggle maniacally!
"I know Some of those words! Likely Not in the context You Want them to be in, though!"
"Then you do know the context I am referring to~ Don't worry Al, I am not talking about ones own family reunion, obviously, but somebody else's."
"You Are talking about FILTH then. No Val, i have done Nothing of the likes!"
"Oh come on, never had the fun? I had this one where I was invited to one of my students', I was a yoga teacher back in the day, you see? Anyhow, I eventually found myself banging different women. See, because they are all related, they had like, slightly different mommy boxes, but I was test driving 'em, right? Seeing how evolution has shaped each one a little differently so that you can find one that's just right?"
[No, Val stop, Al is already-]
"I call this goldilocksing~"
"And this relates to hunting... hoooow...?" Velvette seems perplexed...
Val thinks for a moment...
"I forgot what I was getting at, my bad~" He says as he takes a puff from his cigarette.
Al... looks grossed out. He thinks about this... And shivers in mild disgust again, a few moments after the first time.
As you can see here, Valentino kept his "trade" a secret in his human life, but he was also very good with it. Being able to get around fucking the entire female half of a family. Living in Italy though, he envied the mafia families that always seemed to be able to get what they wanted. More so because one day, one of those families caught Tino and his disgusting tendencies and... lets just say that he was never found on Earth again.
This eventually landed him in Hell. While he did sin quite excessively, it did not compare to the likes of Velvette, Alastor, Eve, Angel Dust or Agatha. However, he did gain one very prominent power from this... The red mist. The mist he puffs out whenever he smokes, the stench that leaves his body, the morphine that binds people to him like soul contracts!
Its an addictive substanance. Some people even describe it as off-puttingly as possible by saying that its his "musk". Valentino, while possessing not a terrifying amount of strength compred to some other powerful sinners out there, he possesses an ability that can dominate each one of them without trouble.
One such case being Angel Dust.
See, Angel, being the son of a ruthless mafia boss, when arrived in Hell, he wanted to become famous and wealthy immidietly! Get rich quick without much work! Well, with work he loves to do~
This is where Valentino steps into his life, offering him such opportunities while... making sure Angel inhales his mist as much as possible. Keep him addicted, don't let him get away~
Valentino is especially abusive towards Angel both sexually and physically. However, this stems not from his actual love for Angel Dust, but his hate.
Valentino, ever since he arrived in Hell, has gained a sick fascination towards punishing the sinners that think they are hot shit.
"He has a… self-rightous attitude lets say. If he thinks you had it too good and don't appriciate the stuff you have… he'll get ideas~" -Velvette
Valentino is the essence of Hell. He punishes the winners of hazbin, not the losers. Seeing Angel Dust, being this mafiaso that loved and CRAVED sex in every opportunity and got what he wanted without ever thinking about the implications, gives Valentino this certain feeling of moral superiority. He feels like a punisher, a true demon of Hell that is there to become Angels worst nightmare for all the horrible things he has done in his life.
It gets better due to the fact that Valentino knows he is weaker than Angel, yet due to his addictions, he wins over him. Its not some pact that binds Angel, its his own Lust... and Sloth. His desire for easy success and wealth led him to this disgusting mess.
When Charlie rolls around with the idea of redemption, of course he hates it. To him, punishment is well deserved and bad boys like Angel need to be made an example of.
This also presents the reader with an interesting question. Does Angel deserve what Val does to him considering that he was CERTAINLY not a good person in his own hazbin? Or does he deserve redemption? This is literally Charlies ideology, being asked to the viewer. Should the sinner be punished or redeemed? Angel was a despicable human being that murdered, tortured, raped and was bound to many external substances. Does he deserve punishment in the hands of Valentino? Or does he deserve redemption in the hands of Charlie?
Valentino is also not just doing this to Angel. This goes for ANYONE he thinks they had it too good for too long...
Welp, that was all! Valentino is an asshole pervert fueled by hatred!
Please do write feedback, I'd love to hear your ideas if you think of any!
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kashilascorner · 7 months ago
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New entry for @queer-ragnelle May Day Parade!
Prompt: May 10-16 Month of May {Free Space/Flower Festival}
Behold --my attept at a comedy! You can read it here if you prefer. This is probably the last short story I write for this challenge. Enjoy ^^
He was meant to be someone's uncle, maybe. Definitely not someone's father at any rate. As the hot midday sun shone above his head, Sir Bors wondered what it was about him that he had ended up surrounded by kids. No, not kids. Kids were cute, with their chubby cheeks and their untamed opinions. What he had attracted was far worse: teenagers.
It was a beautiful day in mid-May. Flowers were blooming, birds were singing, horses were happy, and he was not being paid enough for this job. Actually, he was not being paid at all! In fact, by not being in his lands, he was losing money by the minute –but alas, he was not good at accounting anyways, that was work for his brother and his sister-in-law. It's not that Bors didn't like the lads, but he was beginning to understand Sir Kay's irritation towards the world at large given how much he dealt with youngsters all day, every day.
Galahad was a quiet boy. He thought of him as good nephew although he was a second cousin. That was good, with that he could deal. Perceval, on the other hand talked too much. He talked all the time. But there was someone who talked even more: his sister Dindrane. Good lord how much she spoke! Why was she even there in the first place? he wondered. And then there was the elephant inside the room. An enormous elephant all the way from India that definitely had no business in Britain’s forests: Elyan. His son. His actual, real, blood-of-his-blood son. Bors had never had much of an idea of how he should speak to him, so at some point he had decided to talk to him as a fellow comrade. It was his brother's advice: become friends with the lad, he said, get him to trust you, he said, all will be fine and follow the natural course, he said. Well, probably not the best idea to take advice from a man who had not yet been a father and had lost his own at a tender age. But alas, he didn't have much better opinions to go by. Who else was he going to ask for fatherly advice? Arthur? Lancelot? So Bors took the advice at face value. If Elyan had been a child maybe he could have worked out something, but no, of course none of the Lord's designs could ever be that easy. He was (almost) fully grown by the time they met. He even had a shadow of a shadow of something that kind of resembled a beard.
Elyan seemed content enough by the treatment, Bors thought with some relief. A good lad he was. His mother had made a good job, Bors nodded to himself, she should be proud. But Galahad visibly cringed every time they interacted. This angered Bors. Was he doing it so wrong? He felt very judged, negatively, by Galahad's gaze. And who was Galahad, of all people, to judge? And why did Bors even care about his opinion? Bors thought of himself as a competent enough father, even if not a good one. Sure, he had not provided for his son, but only because he didn't know he existed at all! Come think of it, maybe only God was a good enough Father, and still his main fathering method was throwing His children into the world without warning and with only thin skin as their protection. Not even scales or a thick poisonous tooth or two to defend themselves. Bors did better than that: he’d given his lad an armor, and a seat in the most prestigious knight order of the age. So, actually, he had done fairly well by comparison, had he not? Even if the reasoning was a bit sacrilegious in nature.
“Say, Uncle,” spoke Dindrane. Bors, at the head of the party, had to fight his innermost demons not to roll his eyes and let out a long, long sigh. Her excessive familiarity annoyed him. Lads he could deal with, but how in Heaven was one even supposed to deal with a fifteen-year-old girl? “Who would win a fist fight, Sir Gawain or Sir Lancelot?”
“Obviously Gawain!” retorted young Melehan, with a tone that informed Bors the kids had been, no doubt, arguing about this one thing all morning. Obviously Melehan was going to defend his uncle. Bors had not intended to travel with a band of teenagers, but least of all had he planned to borrow Sir Mordred's eldest son, a boy of twelve, as a squire while they went to meet with the rest of the knights. How much he missed his loyal Achilles! Should have never knighted him, honestly, but it was too late to regret it now. Bors had never realized how hard it was to get a good squire until he lost a great one –which Melehan, certainly, was not.
“They would never fist fight in the first place.” Bors said, trying to sound very grave. “And knights don't fist fight.”
“But if they did,” insisted Dindrane, Elyan and Perceval in unison.
“He's going to say Lancelot, he's not impartial.”" complained Melehan, very softly for them to pay attention.
“Obviously Lancelot would win if he ever happened to lower himself to such standards,” commented Galahad, who, even by his standards had been astonishingly quiet.
“Are we talking midday or night fight?” Asked Perceval all of a sudden, like he had just realized it was an absolutely crucial difference.
“Gawain at midday, definitely,” said Elyan, trying to sound very serious (or had his voice really become this deep?) “But at night...”
“Still Gawain!” insisted Melehan.
“No way, not at night.” Galahad scoffed.
“Oh, so you admit he would lose in the morning?” Melehan smiled. Bors turned slightly to look at the little blond boy. Damn, did the boy look like his father.
“Knights don't fist fight.” Insisted Bors.
“I know you have fist flighted,”" said Perceval, cryptically, disconcerting Bors and forcing him to turn his body on his horse to look at him, like an owl turning its head.
“When?”
“You have a brother, sir Bors,” said Perceval, “and brothers fist fight all the time.” he added, in unison with Dindrane, like it was an obvious fact everyone knew. What kind of relationships did the offspring of Pellinore have? Bors thought with horror for a moment, what horrors went behind those walls--then he thought of how Lamorak had turned out. Ah, it made sense.
“We could say that sometimes it can happen, yes,” he conceded. "But I never in my life fist fought Lionel." He had, indeed, fist fought Lionel and broken his lip in the process multiple times, but no reason for the youngsters to know that. It seems like they had enough examples about it not to need any more.
“My cousins and I once had a very big fight, I don't see how it would not be the same between brothers.” Melehan commented.
“And who won?”
“Florence.”
“Ah.” Bors nodded. The boy was a marvel. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree –especially if the tree is Gawain. Right before breaking a smile, he remembered he was trying to give a good example. “Well, you should try to avoid those things. One day you will be knighted, so you keep your hands to yourself and use your sword and your lance honorably, as it is meant to be.”
“Ha! Tell that to the boys, I will throw punches my whole life.” Dindrane laughed, tilting her chin up petulantly. Galahad all of a sudden seemed very uncomfortable. He had grown in a monastery, had he not? He probably never saw a woman talk so shamelessly. Had he ever even seen a girl his own age at all? Probably not. Women could be terrifying, Bors had to give him that. And Dindrane, it seemed, was at least half savage. Melehan had made the horse trot a little faster so now he was on Bors' left side, blushing, instead of nearer Dindrane where he had been riding all morning. He blushed a lot when it came to Dindrane, Bors realized. Maybe he didn't like her? Only the Lord could tell, these youngsters were a mystery.
Bors stole a glance from Elyan, on his right side. Come think of it, perhaps they shouldn't be knighting boys this young. Then he thought of how Perceval was a good two years older than his Elyan and still had much less common sense, so maybe it didn't have anything to do with age after all. Bors smiled at his son, and got his horse a little closer to his. Elyan smiled back, shyly, but pulled out his chest in a show of being a great horseman.
“Who do you think won when they fought, my Lord the King or the Seneschal?” asked Perceval, breaking the silence.
“The King,” said Dindrane and Elyan.
“The Seneschal,” replied Melehan, Galahad and Bors. The lads stared at Bors, and Dindrane smirked maliciously. They had trapped him.
“So who would win, Uncle, Sir Lancelot or Sir Gawain?”
“Who would, who would?” all of them asked.
There was no escape. Bors took a deep breath.
At least this would only go on for a couple more days, then they would meet with Gawain and Lancelot's parties, switch members and begin the quest proper.
But as things were going, he wondered: was the Grail and its promise of divine redemption even worth this much effort? Maybe he should turn back to tournaments and rescuing ladies. It was certainly a more reasonable line of work.
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metamatar · 11 months ago
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Hello di. I was wondering if you could help me. I am planning to pursue English lit as a stream of studies. I am from the science stream but I really don't have an interest in it. I am from a very modest background and I am aware of the realities that are there in Indian job market. Since you are a professional ( though in STEM) and are very practical, I am asking for some advise from you. I do definitely want to pursue English lit but I also have to keep the economy in mind. So what industries, job openings should I be looking into and what else should I be doing if I am to get a job with a English degree.
Hello, you're very brave and practical! So you definitely want to get into the best college you can rn, the selection effects are harsher when their are fewer jobs. Literature grads who aren't going into academia tend to work in publishing, journalism or marketing. You definitely want to intern early and try to get into prestigious fellowships where you can network with people. Talk to people who are doing the same thing. Stalk a professional who graduated with the same degree you have on LinkedIn. Stalk a professional online who has a job you want already and look at their career progressions. Cold email them and talk. Hearing about jobs that are hiring is half the battle. Knowing someone in the org who might vouch for you or recommend you, even better. And then people wonder why Indian white collar jobs are so caste stratified. Learn to copywrite, edit, maybe even some social media promotion. Have an online portfolio, a blog or a website or some kind of online presence. Submit to literature magazines or journals so you can point to public acceptance of your writing.
The best paid jobs for people who have writing skills are technical documentation roles tho. If you're willing to work with programmers/engineers, how frameworks for generating documentation work, the principles of that, a decent overview of how software is written and a little bit of scripting you're probably likely to have a less precarious career than many other writers. The issue is you'd be competing with writers who often have a technical background and you won't really learn any of these skills in college. You'll need to find a first opportunity to take a chance om you honestly. There's courses online you can bridge the gap with.
Maybe I'm very off base though so hopefully @wherestoriescomefrom who is a real literature grad in india who can weigh in.
edit: look at the replies also!
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pmegploan · 19 days ago
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Best PMEGP loan : Government Support for Starting Your Own Business.
At sharda Associates The Prime Minister's Employment Generation Programme (PMEGP) is a government scheme in India that gives financial help to individuals who want to create small companies. It aims to create jobs and encourage self-employment, particularly in rural and semi-urban areas. Here's a simplified view of the scheme
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What is PMEGP?
PMEGP Loan provides financial assistance to people starting new small enterprises by offering a loan with a subsidy. The Ministry of Micro, Small, and Medium Enterprises (MSME) manages it, while the Khadi and Village Industries Commission (KVIC) oversees its implementation.
Key Features:
1 Loan Amount
Manufacturing enterprises might receive up to ₹25 lakh.
Service enterprises, such as beauty salons or repair shops, can receive up to ₹10 lakh.
2 Government subsidy:
Rural areas:
25% of general category applications.
35% for special categories (such as SC/ST, women, and those from the Northeast).
Urban areas
15% for general category applications.
Special categories are eligible for 25% off.
Who can apply?
1 Eligibility:
Any Indian citizen above the age of 18.
Applicants for projects costing more than ₹10 lakh (manufacturing) or ₹5 lakh (services) must have finished 8th grade.
Self-help groups (SHGs), cooperative organizations, and charitable trusts can all apply.
2 Personal Investments:
General candidates must invest 10% of the project cost themselves.
Special category applicants must invest only 5%.
How do I apply?
1 Application Process:\
Apply online using the PMEGP portal at Official kvic Main.
Upload documents such as ID, address verification, educational certificates, and a business plan.
2 Selection and Loan approval:
A District-Level Task Force Committee will contact you to schedule an interview.
Once approved, the bank sanctions the loan and credits the government subsidy to your loan account.
3 Repayment:
The loan must be repaid within 3-7 years, however the subsidy does not have to be paid back.
4 Training:
All PMEGP grantees are required to complete a brief company management training program.
Example of How PMEGP Loans Work
Suppose you wish to start a small manufacturing plant in a rural region for ₹20 lakh.
For those in the general category, the government will provide a 25% subsidy, amounting to ₹5 lakh.
The bank offers a loan of ₹15 lakh, and you simply need to invest ₹2 lakh from your savings.
Why is PMEGP beneficial?
project report for PMEGP loan assists people in starting enterprises without the requirement for a large initial investment. This loan is ideal for young enterprises as it requires no collateral (up to ₹10 lakh) and offers long payback terms.
Summary
The PMEGP initiative is a useful approach to start a small business with government assistance, particularly if you come from a rural or underprivileged background. It encourages employment generation and economic development. For additional information, please visit the official PMEGP website or contact your nearest KVIC office.
PMEGP: Helping You Start Your Own Business with Government Support. For details and to reach us, visit https://shardaassociates.in/ contact us : 91 79870 21896 , address : HIG B-59, Sector A, Vidya Nagar, Bhopal, Madhya Pradesh 462026
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sirserpentine · 8 months ago
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On Pentious' backstory.
//Hi lovelies! I've been thinking and developing Pentious for a short while now, and while I will likely accept whatever canon history we'll get for him in the future, I have a few current POSSIBLE ideas for what may have led him to Hell in life. This is one of such possibilities:
Short version: Pentious was a rich inventor in Victorian England. He served portions of time as an engineer in the army, working in the British Empire's colonies in Africa and Asia. (Hardcore colonialist. Very nasty, as they were.)
He had an amicable relationship with his wife who had been chosen by his parents. They wanted to have children very badly, but suffered from infertility for years with no improvement. Pentious grew bitter over his work overseas as well as depressed and hot-tempered from his repeated grief and disappointment when his family wouldn't grow.
Eventually, desperate Pentious decided to research dark magic and ask for the help from demons, as angels wouldn't answer his prayers. A deal was offered by a demon he managed to summon, a potion that would guarantee healthy children to its drinker. The catch? Pentious would automatically descend into Hell upon death. When promised his wife and future children would be safe from such a fate, Pentious took the leap and drank the potion at once.
But coming home that day, nobody answered his calls.
What followed was a grief-induced rampage, a desperate attempt to create an antidote, a bitter attempt to create poison, plans of calamity, plans to burn down the world that had forsaken him, toxic fumes spilling over his body by accident, red, red marks all over his skin, a study that burnt down in flames.
And a snake who entered Hell alone.
In detail:
He was born into a rich, aristocratic family in the late 1840s and had the privilege to study to his heart's content in London, his busy birth town. Being an engineer or an inventor was something he wanted to do since he was very young and his family accepted this, though a bit reluctantly. Following a degree in the university, he was engaged and married to a bride of his family's preference but didn't hate or outwardly disagree with the arrangement.
He and his gentle wife found common ground when it came to the enjoyment of music, art and the scoffed-upon, silly preference to usher house-intruding rats and mice outside without excessive violence. They also doted on all the children of their friends and relatives and eventually desired a big family of their own.
With no upcoming patent for an invention in sight, young Pentious instead found a job as an engineer for the army and travelled to the empire's faraway colonies in India and Africa to oversee and assist in the construction of windmills, vehicles and the maintenance of weaponry. Pentious received elementary level soldier training at this point and for the first time learned how to hold a firearm. He also got to enjoy the life in a true colonizer fashion; feel a false sense of superiority towards those their troops supervised and bossed around, eat exotic treats and send gifts back to his wife. Snakeskin purses, spices, jewellery, everything that could be ripped from their place of origin. He paid money for them, surely it couldn't count as stealing? They made his wife so happy, surely he wasn't greedy for hogging so much? He was a Britt, a civilised chap, certainly he was deserving of his share?
Though the reunion at home after his travels was a warm one, Pentious and his wife grew agitated when they weren't blessed with children after years of trying. They did their best, employing each home remedy, prayer and doctor's order they could afford, but the situation never improved. Pentious had to leave for more job contracts to fulfil and each time he returned to his grieving wife and empty nursery, the less he resembled the man he had been in the past. The idealistic, kind gentleman had become entitled and stressed, his smiles had turned into frowns, his passions into a hot temper.
And when he started shooting at the intruding rodents that disturbed his precious work in the study or tea in the parlour, his wife grew even more concerned. And when she mentioned this and all he could offer as consolation and apology was a concoction of rat poison to get rid of the problem instead, she wasn't sure if she even knew him anymore.
Pentious grew desperate enough to turn to dark magic to have his dreams come true. If Angels wouldn't listen to his wails, maybe demons would? Though doubting it would work until the very end, Pentious managed to summon a demon who offered him a deal; A potion that, once consumed, would guarantee him the conception and birth of healthy children. The catch? He would automatically descend into Hell at the moment of his death.
When promised his wife and future children would be spared from such a fate, Pentious wasted no time in swigging down the potion. Despite the prize he knew he would be paying, he felt more lighthearted than ever as he ran back home, desperate to tell his wife they could still try, they could fix things up, there was still time.
But once he was home, all that greeted him was silence.
The vial of rat poison was empty.
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quickastroo · 3 months ago
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harrisonarchive · 2 years ago
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Billy Preston, Willie Weeks, and George Harrison onstage during the Dark Horse Tour, November/December 1974. Photo by Jeffrey Mayer, © Jeffrey Mayer Photography.
“I mean, I’d rather have Willie Weeks‬ on bass than ‪Paul McCartney‬. I mean, that’s the truth, with all respect to Paul.” - George Harrison, pre-tour press conference, 23 October 1974
“George absolutely took the press to heart [during the Dark Horse Tour]. […] But in spite of all that, he remained very kind to all of us, always. He’d pull little surprises. You’d check into your hotel room, and there was no telling what would be waiting for you there. 
It was the classiest tour I’ve ever been on, the best hotels, the best everything. He wanted to make everybody happy. It was beautiful.” - Willie Weeks, Here Comes The Sun: The Musical and Spiritual Journey of ‪George Harrison (x)
Q: “The 1974 tour came under a lot of criticism.” Jim Keltner: “Yes it did. People didn’t know what to make of it. They paid to see George, they didn’t know Ravi Shankar, they didn’t know that Ravi had India’s finest musicians up there with him. It was like seeing Ravi with a big band, no one had seen that before. The only way you could see that is if you went to Bombay, on some sound stage. He literally brought those guys all together and put them on a big stage in America. It was something! There was a lot of criticism, but there were probably a lot of people won over as well, people who were awed.‬ […] By the time I joined, it was already different. George had to tell Ravi about the criticism that it was taking too long. They were doing it the proper way, setting it up and playing the very quiet and introspective stuff in the beginning, and they were losing the audience. So he had to do away with some of that. And it broke George’s heart, he knew it upset Ravi. But in any case, even with what they cut out, what they did leave in was more awesome than most of what those people will ever be blessed to see. Those people saw something very special.”
Q: “Why did you join the tour late?” JK: “I had been on another tour prior to that, and I really didn’t want to tour anymore, I didn’t want to leave home again. I told George I was tired of it. But George wanted his friends about him, he was very much a people person. It still just beaks my heart to think of him being gone… he was one of my closest friends. He cherished our friendship, and I cherished the fact that he cherished that friendship.” - The Dawn of Indian Music in the West (x)
“[During the Dark Horse Tour] he would look you in the eyes and wanted to know, ‘Do you like this? Are you having fun?’ [George] cared, he wondered how everyone was doing, and he wanted to know, ‘Are you happy on this tour, is this fun for you? This isn’t just a job, is it?’ You see, George was never relaxed, he was a worrier, and he was often preoccupied with worry. If something was wrong, he was always thinking, ‘Someone’s unhappy, what have I done wrong?’” - Andy Newmark, While My Guitar Gently Weeps: The Music of George Harrison (x)
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1indigoisles · 1 year ago
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Chapter 1 - All Excerpts
Who in their right mind would choose to ‘live’ in a graveyard of a town in Rhode Island over one of the sunniest places in the world, Flagstaff, Arizona?
Well, I did.
Lila must think I’m crazy. She definitely did.
My mother (that’s Lila) had always been a traveller, a hare-brained traveller who had once left half of her possessions in the States on an immigration to India for the winter. What happened to that half, you may imagine? Only the unknown force that made Lila my mother knows. Don’t get me wrong, Lila’s the best, but we were less mother and son and more the adventurous traveller and her wary follower.
Why would I choose to travel then, since another option was given to me? Well, I’ll get to that.
My life story was simple. I wasn’t a miracle, but I wasn’t a mistake either. I just happened, and I happened at the wrong time. My father’s name is – or was, I don’t really know ��� David Garamond and that was pretty much all I knew about him. Lila was efficient in cleaning up mistakes from her past. But she wasn’t the secretive type either; she didn’t mind talking about her past, and would tell me stories about her time with David. She would talk like they were fairy tales, which many real-life love stories are before they burn out into ashes of leftover feelings where the fire of love and hope used to be.
Lila Teigen and David Garamond were high school sweethearts, and were still going on strong well into college. They were a stable couple, which was saying something, considering how young they were. Young love tended to go wrong. But nothing went wrong for them, at least not then.
After completing college, David asked for her hand in marriage, even though he never got the blessing. Both Lila’s and David’s families were against it, and they promised to turn their backs on the pair if they did get married. But that didn’t matter; they were deeply in love, intent on forever happiness, and expecting a child, which was why David had proposed in the first place. Nothing had gone wrong around this part either. David was the guy fantasy talked about, the hero of the story. Lila had really thought that that would be her happily ever after.
But real life doesn’t have a happily ever after. It never did.
And we have now arrived at the part where things went wrong.
David was nowhere to be found on the day before the marriage. He’d gone out on a stormy night, saying he had some last-minute things to take care of and just... vanished.
And that was where the story ended. Lila would tell me nothing about what happened after that, about any of her struggles with being a single mother, if she ever found David again, or even why she took up the habit of travelling around when it was obviously much easier and cheaper to settle down in one place.
No. Fast-forward 16 years as a nomad named Kenneth Teigen on this planet, and I am currently scowling at the million dollar question of where our next voyage will take us while still recovering from the shock of having to answer said question. ‘Most difficult decision of my life’ hadn’t exactly been on my birthday wish list.
And it wasn’t as though we could go just anywhere, either, which actually made things a little easier. Lila’s job as a digital marketing strategist paid well and steadily enough, but I couldn’t exactly suggest we hop on the next plane to Greenland, now could I? Not that I ever would.
No, Lila had narrowed down my choices to two places that contrasted each other so much and were so far apart that I was fairly certain Lila had just dropped the question on my head as an elaborate prank.
"Flagstaff, Arizona, or Knightville, Rhode Island?" Lila had asked me when my school year in DC was over.
"What?" I looked up from my book, The Picture of Dorian Grey.
Lila unceremoniously flopped down onto the red bean-bag chair and regarded me seriously, which would have been comical, had she not said the things she was about to say. "What would you pick," she began again, slower, "Knightville in Rhode Island, or Flagstaff in Arizona?"
I replied, surprised, "And you're asking me this because...?"
"Because this decision is officially yours," Lila said, a smile tugging on her lips as though she were giving me some good news. "You are going to decide where we stay for the next year." There was a glint in her eyes that could only be described as defiance as she pronounced her last statement.
"No," I immediately told her.
The glint died away. "Why not?" she asked, like a child asking her parent why she couldn't get candy even though she'd done her homework.
"Because I have no idea what to choose," I said bluntly.
"But I gave you only two options," she protested. "It can't be that hard!"
"Hard?" I asked incredulously. "You're asking me to choose where we're going to live for the whole of next year!"
"Between just 2 places!"
"Doesn't make it much easier, Lila!"
She looked bewildered, and a little hurt too, for which I felt a poorly disguised twinge of guilt.
Seeing me soften, perhaps, Lila went full-on puppy-dog mode, and while I had seen it coming and should've been able to resist it, I couldn't.
So, cursing the next several generations of Lila's bloodline (which wasn't smart, since I was one of them), I conceded to her wishes with a grumble.
Now, I don’t know why I chose Knightville. It wasn’t as though it was a good travel destination or a hot tourist spot; it was cold, constantly raining and foggy, and the only colors it ever saw were white, black and different shades of grey.
I just felt, I don't know, compelled to choose Knightville, like there was something the remote town whose name I had never heard of before had that much less remote Flagstaff didn't.
I wasn't fond of it.
Nevertheless, the choice was befitting. Apparently my great-aunt Charlotte (late) had once lived in an old, slightly rickety house at the edge of town. Apartments were non-existent in small communities such as this, and it wouldn’t cost Lila a penny (except for maintenance).
Plus, the house was kind of homely.
It was a one-storey dwelling, painted a pale blue, with a brown, slanted roof. The inside was all cream-yellow walls and creaky wooden floors and the smell of good old 1950s vintage.
I didn’t dislike it, so that must have meant something.
Dinner that night consisted of Chinese take-out and ice cream for desert. I hadn’t spoken much till now, sitting in mindless silence, thinking about nothing, and staring at a small, perfectly circular hole (or was it just ink?) in the wooden floor.
“This flavour of ice cream is amazing”, commented Lila. I’d been, after all, silent for an unknown period of time, and a brooding silence of any sort from my end rang alarm-bells in Lila’s mind.
The truth was, I’d had this strange feeling ever since Lila’s car careened into Knightville. I felt... out of my own body, like I was breathing something entirely other than oxygen, that I was eating foreign food, having this foreign food with another person, that I was in another world, with alien roots that ran in alien soil. Like I was someone else. It was a creepy feeling, and it made my skin crawl.
But none of this was real. It was probably my brain’s way of punishing me because I’d intentionally forced myself to survive in a place that I didn’t like when I had total opportunity to live somewhere else.
“It’s pistachio flavoured”, I said, coming back to reality, “one of the worst ice cream flavours invented in the history of bad ice cream flavours”. I scrunched my nose with distaste.
“It is not”, insisted Lila, “you just don’t like it ‘cause it’s weird. I happen to like weird. Quite a few people do. Weird is good. Weird is different.”
But I would not indulge myself in the weirder aspects of life. While Lila was fawning over her God-awful ice cream, I was silently enjoying classic chocolate.
***********
School was due in a week, a week which was spent placing our furniture in the house, a difficult thing for a family of two to accomplish. Still, this was not our first rodeo – we’d done this exactly 14 times now – but regardless, we never got any better at arranging furniture in an apartment, let alone a house. Or faster.
“Well, the bed’s done”, Lila huffed, a hanky tied to her head, rivulets of sweat rolling down the sides of her face.
“Yeah, your bed,” I said, wiping my forehead, mentally accepting my fate. “I’ll have to sleep on the couch, won’t I?”
“For now,” she said sheepishly, off my glare.
I got up from my seat at the floor and declared, “I am officially done with today. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've gotta get out of this house and pray to all the heavens above that it is raining.”
So saying, I saluted in her direction and stalked resolutely down the stairs.
Fortunately, my prayers (which were not yet made) were answered. I stepped out the front doorstep to find rain falling in gentle sheets, letting it progressively wet my clothes as the cool droplets shifted through my hot, sweaty hair. I combed the strands back with my fingers and faced the clouds above, feeling the cold water sting my face like surprises.
I was not, in general a fan of the rain, but I'll admit, it could be beneficial at times.
It was then I noticed a house, a small way across the road, and a girl walking out of it, a black umbrella plopped on her shoulder.
From what I could tell, she had long, straight black hair and wore dark clothing that spanned her entire body. She was walking briskly, like she was on a clock, and kept looking around, her eyes darting everywhere at once before stopping, and lingering on me.
I froze, and felt my heart stop beating for a second. I didn't think about how beautiful she looked, not at that moment at least. I didn't think about how strange it was that she herself froze and stopped to stare at me. I didn't think about how she then abruptly turned around and practically ran down the street, away from her house and my line of sight.
I could only think about her eyes, which were not one, but two colors, for two irises. One was the black of tar and midnight and the other was the blue of clear skies and forget-me-nots. There was no other way to put it; her eyes were beautiful.
Heterochromia was not an unknown concept to me, and for all its uniqueness, it could also look rather plain on some people. But something about the girl's eyes struck me in the strangest way. And it was that strangeness that froze me; I wasn't easily bedazzled.
It felt wrong and right both at the same time, like a sharp needle poking at your skin, but not hard enough for it to bleed.
Her eyes may have been beautiful, but they were hard, reflective, blank, and cold and sharp as shards of ice, like her soul was hidden in walls and walls of titanium, that the blue and black of her eyes were the only walls we saw.
Eyes that I would lay awake at night thinking about.
***********
The few mornings after that were as grey and lifeless as the last one. I wondered as I woke, not for the first time, how the people here could wake up to this almost every morning and still have the energy to start their day and do whatever a regular life demands of them. For even after a good night’s sleep I felt tired, the kind of tired that I wasn’t sure would be easily remedied by a cup of coffee. Maybe half a dozen could work.
I shook my head. I was being pathetic.
I forced myself out of bed and got ready for school.
In the bathroom, I stared at myself in the mirror as I brushed my teeth. Fair skin was part of my genetics, and so was my gangly height of six feet, which did no favours to my breadth. My facial features were too-sharp and my body was lean (the gym and I have a difficult relationship). My hair was an ordinary brown with a coppery tint to it that refused to stay neat, and my eyes, deep-set, were leaf-green.
There was nothing much remarkable about me. I sighed and spit the minty toothpaste out.
Lila, on the other hand, was pretty. She had hair redder than mine, a Madonna-like face with high, sloping cheekbones, and green eyes that were always lively.
When I was done criticizing myself in the bathroom, I took a shower and wore an ordinary faded red sweatshirt and loose jeans.
I went downstairs.
Lila was, naturally, awake, and bustling about the kitchen, performing multiple tasks at once, as was her way, such as juggling her steaming hot cup of coffee in one hand, while trying to explain to her new-found friend, Catherine, who seemed to keep surprisingly military hours, all the reasons why she could go down to the book-store with her after she came back home at eight ‘o’ clock in the evening over the phone, that was, by the way, sandwiched between her ear and her corresponding shoulder. At the same time, she was trying to pack our food (she’d always insisted on home-made for first days at school). It might all end in disaster. No, it probably would end in disaster. It’s Lila we’re talking about, after all.
“Lila, don’t keep your coffee cup so close to the edge of the counter!” I grumbled as she accidentally pushed it off in order to turn to me as I came down the stairs.
The cup made crash-landing, but it was plastic, so it didn’t break. Burning-hot black coffee infiltrated the floor of the kitchen and splashed against the previously pristine white cupboards, curved layers of coffee-brown partially covering them. On the ground, the liquid pooled like water.
Lila, on the other hand, had jumped back five miles, dropped her phone onto a fuzzy carpet, and was looking at me reproachfully.
With a mental curse I said, “oh, god.” And, shaking my head, I came the rest of the way down the stairs, walked past Lila, and opened a cabinet with cleaning towels in it.
I picked a white one with bright red stripes, and handed it to Lila, who gratefully took it.
I picked one out for myself, an orange one with black boats patterned on, and sighed, “come on, Lila.” And after selecting other cleaning weapons of our choice, we dived into the mess.
So obviously, it was with easy conversation and synchronised working that we went our separate ways.
Lila would lock herself up in her office with her laptop and an assortment of files, documents and fidget-toys, whereas I would shimmy on my bike and make my way to Knightville High School.
***********
At the gates of Knightville High School, I stopped.
I looked at my bike, which was parked (squeezed) between two cars, then I gazed back at my new school once more.
The building was greyer and duller than any other building I’d ever seen. It wasn’t too tall, four storeys high, maybe, with Knightville High written in huge red letters at the entrance.
I gulped. Who was I kidding? I was nervous as hell, which was totally idiotic; I’d done this a million times now.
Maybe it was just the fear of being in the spotlight, the downright spooky atmosphere of Knightville, or I was probably just way in over my head, and I suddenly had the totally irrational desire to get on my bike and ride back to DC.
Or, I told myself sternly, I’m overthinking the entire thing, and I should stop dawdling at the front of the school gates and just get it over with already.
So, thinking this, I took a deep breath, and went in.
***********
I’d hoped for a few minutes, at the very least, of peace.
Instead, I was immediately ambushed at the entrance of the main hall of my new school by a girl just a few inches shorter than me, with a bright expression that I would soon come to know was her being cheerful.
At first I’d thought her hair was on fire, and she had galloped to me expecting a waterfall to sprout out of my backpack. A fraction of a second later, though, I realised that that was just the color of the girl’s hair, burning orange, not red, orange, like fire.
Her hair was bright orange. She had hazel eyes with flecks of green and gold in them, sweet pink lips that looked naturally dyed, and freckles that covered the apex of her nose and cheekbones like dust. She wore a white tank top that should be illegal to wear, a brown leather jacket to cover it up, fashionably tattered and faded jeans, and a bright smile that could give the sun and the stars a run for their money.
“Hi,” she said, in a naturally crisp and friendly voice, “I’m Jolene Frost, head of Knightville High’s welcoming committee. Welcome to Knightville High!”
I jumped. “Hello,” I managed to stammer, “I’m Kenneth Teigen.”
Jolene’s eyes flickered almost imperceptibly at ‘Teigen.’
“What?” I asked.
“What ‘what’?” Jolene looked a little bemused.
“Never mind,” I muttered.
She regarded me for a long moment, not like I was acting strangely, but more as though she’d just discovered something about me that told her there was more to discover.
Then she peered over my shoulder as though she’d just spotted someone, and called, “Rowan, Rowan!” I turned around, but I couldn’t be sure who she was calling. A beat passed. No one came, and no one looked at her weirdly for shouting that name, possibly because she was popular and wouldn’t have cared about it anyway. With an exasperated sigh, she flipped out her phone and dialled a number. She held up a finger that told me I should wait a minute and heard the phone ring twice before the person on the other end picked up.
Jolene did not pause to say ‘hello’ to make sure the person on the other end was there, instead immediately speaking into her phone, “Rowan Frost, if you do not emerge from whatever hidey-hole you’ve found for yourself, I will whisper your middle name to the new kid.” She said the last two words as though it would be a treacherous fate for Rowan, who I now realised was Jolene’s brother.
A reply came from the other end. Jolene retorted, “oh, I will, and I will do it seductively for good measure.” She seemed to have either not noticed my slight discomfort at that, or she was ignoring it entirely.
“Relax, I’m here,” came a child-like voice. A boy an inch or so shorter than me approached us, detaching his phone from his ear as he did.
Jolene smiled a winning smile, and leaned in to loudly whisper, “It’s Duncan, by the way.”
“You said you wouldn’t tell,” reproached Rowan while looking affronted, before abruptly grinning slyly, “Mildred.”
Jolene shrugged, clearly not the reaction Rowan had been hoping for. “I have no insecurities about my middle names. No one will ever call me Mildred, unless, of course, they have a death wish.”
“You just said you had no insecurities.”
“Mildred is a disgusting enough name to hate without being insecure about having it.”
“So is Duncan.”
“No, it’s only you who hates it because it’s old-fashioned.”
“I don’t understand why that isn’t a good enough reason on its own.”
While they went on with their incessant banter, I studied Rowan a little more closely. He had ash-blond hair that was more ash than anything really, and big grey eyes that at first seemed to be comparable to the grey of Knightville’s sky, but soon, it would look more like silver, gleaming and refracting in the light.
He had a long, thin face that had a fine sort of bone structure to it, all angles in some places, all softness in others. His body looked wiry and his shoulders were slim, similar to a girl’s. It was then I drew to the conclusion that ‘handsome’ was not a word that could be used to describe him – he looked more... pretty, yes, that’s the word. He was rather pretty.
“Shouldn’t we be showing the new kid around instead of wasting time arguing?” said Rowan a little grumpily, after Jolene had thrown a cutting remark at him.
“Perhaps,” Jolene allowed, “but maybe we could just skip the tour.” She turned to me, “don’t worry, the school layout is really simple. You’ll get it as we go along.”
The Frost siblings then took me along the halls, to my locker, through various classrooms and labs, the library, the canteen, the infirmary, other staffrooms, all while accompanying it with more banter, assurances that I could ask questions if I had any, and other interesting details, like a long crack that spread across the floor in front of the chemistry lab that had always been there. It was thin, but not so much that it wasn’t noticeable – in fact, I’d noticed it before Jolene had told me about it – and pitch black, as though it had been drawn on the ground with a marker of the darkest black, and shaped like real-life lightning, starting and ending abruptly. It was strangely unsettling to look at.
“Following so far?” Jolene asked, when I spent too long looking at the scar on the floor. “Any questions?”
I looked up, and spotted someone, walking briskly down the hallway. “Actually,” I said, nodding my head in that direction, “yes. Who is she?”
***********
It was that girl, the girl I’d seen a few days ago, with the black-and-blue eyes. My neighbour, I thought. Strange to see her here.
It wasn’t as though I was particularly surprised to have spotted her; Knightville High was the only high school in this town.
I just hadn’t expected to see her again so soon.
Even as I asked her the question, I could see Jolene’s expression change ever so slightly when she found who I was referring to, into something that was hard to coin. It was the kind of expression someone would put on to hide what they were truly feeling.
“Scarlett Raynott, I think that’s her name,” Jolene said, her voice a little away from her person. She turned to me.” Why do you want to know?”
“I saw her a couple days ago,” I said, still looking at Scarlett as she disappeared around the corner. “She lives in the house opposite to mine, at the edge of town.”
“You actually live in that rickety old house?” Jolene asked incredulously, though with the thin air of someone trying to change the subject.
“It’s not that old,” I said, frowning a little.
“It’s not the fact that it’s old,” perked up Rowan faintly, who, up until then, had been silently daydreaming, “which it isn’t, really, compared to other houses, it’s just the way it looks old. And not very pleasant. We all call it Bleak House – not a very creative name, sure, but it stuck.”
“And now people actually live in Bleak House,” Jolene mused.
“I think that’s an overstatement,” I said. “It’s not that bleak.”
“Some people died in there, didn’t they?” Rowan asked Jolene.
“What?” My head snapped up.
“Fourteen people, I think, back in ‘95,” Jolene said.
“Fourteen people?” I echoed, horrified.
“All murdered, weren’t they?” Rowan went on, unfazed.
“Police never found out who it was,” Jolene confirmed, shaking her head mournfully.
“Wow, you guys talk about murder with such ease,” I said.
Jolene grinned. “I would be more worried about living in a haunted house, really.”
“My house is not haunted,” I said, trying for a withering look but grinning instead.
“They say that there are fourteen small dots on the floor, the places where those fourteen people had stood when they were killed,” mused Rowan. “They were drawn on by the murderer.”
I shuddered minutely. “They never found him or her?”
“No, and that’s what’s really troubling.” Rowan stopped short, as though that last part was something he hadn’t meant to say.
Jolene, on the other hand, was now staring at the space where Scarlett had last been, before vanishing from view, and I felt I had to ask, “do you know her?”
Jolene’s eyes flashed in understanding. She smiled softly, like she held a secret, close enough to her that no one else could see it, hard as they tried, and answered, “nobody knows her.”
And it was precisely then that the bell rang.
***********
Nobody knows her.
Dear God, why had I said that? Not that it wasn’t true, in a sense. Saying that Scarlett Raynott didn’t trust easily was the understatement of a lifetime. Scarlett had been my best friend and loyal companion ever since we were kids, and even still, I constantly felt as though I didn’t really know all of her secrets; most of them, maybe, but not all.
I pushed that thought away. We, Rowan and I, had bigger things to think about.
Like how Lila and Kenneth Teigen had taken one look at freaking Bleak House and thought, this seems homely, why don’t we move in? Like how they now lived as close to Scarlett and endless danger as they possibly can get. Like how Kenneth had actually seen Scarlett, and recognized her.
Like how the Teigens knew that Knightville existed at all.
If I were normal, I would turn to Rowan, talk about what to do next, maybe even seek assurance that everything would not, in fact, go to hell.
But I was not normal, and you knew you weren’t normal when there was something fundamentally wrong with you and there was no term in psychology or any other science in existence that could describe it.
There had been a time when Rowan could bring me comfort and reassurance, with his simple, meaningful words and the thoughtful arch to his brow. But now, it was all I could do to smile and be playful and take up the role sisters should, to keep the pretence, to maintain what we had as siblings. No, Rowan was no longer my sanctuary, the sanctuary he had been when I was young and normal; he was someone who injured me everyday without even realising it, someone around whom I could never be myself, someone who would turn away with disgust if he knew the truth about me.
The second the bell had rung, Kenneth had taken one look at his time-table, muttered a swift “sorry,” smiled apologetically as he did, and bolted. Rowan had looked thoughtfully at Kenneth’s back then, and I could not help but do the same. Kenneth was never meant to be so... human. He was never meant to have a kind undertone to his deep, forest-green eyes, he was never meant to have such a steady set to his face, the kind that would remain the same even if flames of the tallest heights danced on the water of oceans and turned the earth and everyone on it into ash.
I was never meant to like him in the ten minutes that I knew him.
And as he went, I could not help but notice that he had disappeared around the same corner, where the classrooms began and the main hall ended, as Scarlett had, just moments ago.
I turned to Rowan with a fake smile plastered on my face. “Well, that went well.”
“Spectacularly,” Rowan said seriously, “your acting skills were truly flawless.”
I smiled winningly. I knew he was being sarcastic, but I also knew that going along with his sarcasm threw him. “Why, thank you, kind brother mine,” I said, adding a gallon of sugar to my smile and trying to ignore the sting of the word, ‘brother��.
Sure enough, Rowan narrowed his eyes, and I grinned triumphantly.
But of course, he just had to ask the million-dollar question. “What should we do about Kenneth?”
“No idea whatsoever,” I said cheerfully, as though I wasn’t losing my mind either. On a more serious note, I added, “maybe, for now, we should just keep tabs on Kenneth, what his classes are, where he comes and goes, and try and keep him away from Scarlett in general.”
“So basically stalk him,” Rowan said.
“Got any better ideas?” I asked.
Rowan’s brow suddenly cleared, and I knew what he was about to suggest. “I could always-”
“No,” I said immediately. “You could never go on for that long. It would drain you.”
And I don’t want to see you like that, I almost said, but held my tongue. It might reveal too much.
Unable to look at him any longer, I turned my gaze back to where Scarlett had disappeared, turning my attention to the issue at hand, and the reasons why the situation was this pressing.
Because everyone in this town knew the name 'Teigen.'
And we knew that name because of two people, because of the two people, because of the people who managed to get away.
***********
I was probably the only person ever to get lost in Knightville High School.
It was the middle of the school day, and I’d just spent what Jolene would surely call a productive lunch chattering away about several topics, murder included (I guess the Frost siblings like talking about this stuff). It was also when I discovered that Rowan could paint like Picasso, and Jolene wasn’t a terrible hand at volleyball either.
I look at the Frost siblings – Irish twins, I was told they were – and cannot help but think that they seemed in no way siblings at all. Very good friends, maybe, but not siblings or any blood relation at all. Siblings tend to have an invisible bond to them, something that marked them as a unit, but there was no such tether to Rowan and Jolene.
Even their overall closeness was questionable; Jolene had not caught Rowan’s eye even once throughout our conversations, the way that siblings did when they shared secret opinions. And if Rowan had noticed, then it was something that had been going on a long time, since he hadn’t seemed bemused or bewildered by it in any way.
There was also the matter of how they didn’t look alike at all.
But I could not think about that now. If I did, I was going to be late for English.
I soon realised, rather stupidly, that I’d been close to the classroom all this time. Cursing my idiocy, I made my way to the open door of the classroom as though it led to heaven.
And that was when I bumped straight into a girl.
Our shoulders collided messily, I almost tripped over my clumsy feet, and my copy of King Lear fell spine-first onto the other person’s foot, making them flinch in surprise.
“I am so sorry,” I immediately said, and bent to retrieve my book.
The girl didn’t say anything – just did the same for one of her own things, a leather-bound sketchpad with the silhouette of a crow on it as the cover design.
And it was then, kneeling on the ground and apologizing faintly, that we finally looked at each other.
Scarlett Raynott was staring right at me, her blue-black eyes fixated on mine. Her skin was deathly pale, as though it’d been first drained of all blood and then white-washed for good measure, contrasting starkly with her dark hair. Her blue eye glittered like a gemstone, but her black eye remained stubborn of light, completely dark. Her expression was totally neutral.
And something was wrong.
Something was very wrong.
But before I could name or place what that something was, Scarlett was getting back on her feet, not even sparing me a look as I did the same, and she was stalking away, her shadow clinging to her feet.
It barely registered into my mind that this was the first time we’d actually met, because something more disturbing caught my attention; two identical narrow, white slits at the apex of Scarlett’s shadow, where her head was.
I squinted.
Were those eyes?
I just thought a compilation of all the excerpts of each chapter would be easier to follow, hence this.
Taglist: @jeahreading, @mayaheronthorn, @damn-this-transgirl-hella-gay
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13eyond13 · 2 years ago
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Would you rather work with Light or L?
Oh, I'd probably rather work with Light for sure as well. In the year 2021 my longterm office job basically got given out from under me to a couple guys that lived in India because it was cheaper to hire people to do the same job there, and then I got paid and given a severance package type thing to long-distance mentor these two guys and teach them how to take my job from me hahaha. One was a very Type A personality and one was a very Type B personality, and it was an interesting experience to be able to contrast the two from the perspective of being responsible for training them and keeping them on track.
I myself am an extremely Type B personality most times, but I actually gelled really well with the Type A person in particular, because he was so quick to inform me of any decisions he made or questions he had, and was always looking for something new to do or trying to find clever innovations he could make. He was intense and serious, but also very communicative about how grateful he was for me being a good teacher to him. The main thing I had to keep in mind was that I really had to be precise with giving him specific times we would be meeting to discuss things and communicate clearly with him, or else he would get antsy and stressed and annoyed. The Type B guy was extremely laid-back and very difficult to offend or ruffle in any way, but you also had to chase him around a bit more to find out what was going on with him and to get to know him, and do a lot more encouraging of him to get him to try something new or to take a chance on something he wasn't confident about. The Type A guy was also extremely cutely appreciative of me training him well to essentially take my job from me, so I definitely felt a lot like L in the Yotsuba Arc teaching Light all the ropes of being L lmao. He basically was being like "notice me senpai" and trying to do the best job possible as a thanks for me being nice to him, I think... ANYWAY all of this is to say that Type A guy reminded me a lot of Yotsuba!Light and I worked well with him, so I'd def rather work with him than L (L is probably a bit more Type A than Type B too, but I think L's cryptic style of management would be chaotic and Elon Musk-ish in a way that would absolutely annoy me and completely stress me out)
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insanefemme · 2 years ago
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Given you follow F1 very well, can I ask you about your thoughts on Aston Martin? :D
I saw Alonso got a podium which, I'm very happy for him :3
Oh boy I'm about to call the wrath of F1 tumblr on me lol, I hope they won't find this if I don't tag it
Soooo Aston Martin. Way back when it used to be Force India, ran by some indian man that loved F1 but also did some illegal things that ended him up in jail, after that the team went on to be named Racing Point at some point being bought by Lawrence Stroll some rich canadian dude, until it was rebranded as Aston Martin, so that's how the team came to be.
See, Stroll's son Lance is a racing driver. A pay racing driver. That means, that instead of getting into F1 because of merit and what sponsors are willing to pay for a driver like hin, he got in cause his dad was willing to pay more. Now, I'd sya Lance isn't among the worst pay drivers that have been on the grid. He's actually pretty decent. But there are better guys for the job, who aren't as rich, available.
First Lawrence paid for Lance to have a seat in a Williams car but they were shit cars and Lance had not the best teammates to learn from. Then Lawrence bought a slightly better team so that Lance would have a seat. And Lawrence is pouring a lot of money into the team in hopes of his son becoming a champion (I guess?) aaand they're signing pretty good drivers that Lance can learn from.
Anyway back to the tean.
It used to be a small, tight knit, midfield team. Sometimes on the verge of bankrupcy, but the employees were loyal and they scrambled even when they weren't being paid.
Since being bought by Lawrence the team is doong much better financially, they're buidling newer better facilities, but kind of losing some of their charm. A lot of people that stayed even without pay have left under Lawrence's rule because he's apparently a micromanager and not pleasant to work with. So that's kind of worrying.
Plus under Lawrence, the team does a lot of copying. Usually a team makes a concept and keeps on working on it, but already 2x AM has been accused of copying another car. First Mercedes now RedBull. And yeah, they put a lot of work into it anyway, but... Just saying Lawrence seems to not tryst his own designers/engineers.
So. Finally getting to my thoughts. I'm not a fan of the team. I love Sebastian Vettel so for him, I was willing to turn a blind eye lol but I don't like how the team has been since being bought by Stroll.
Also. I'm terribly sorry but I also don't like Fernando. I was excited to see a team that was struggling last year get a podium at the beginning of this season.... But yeah I would've preferred it to be someone else. (the only 2 drivers I actively dislike are Alonso and Ocon)
Anyway, Lance Stroll got a bit of my respect for driving all banged up. And last year he started to seem like a good person from what I could see... So that's a plus for him and AM.
Oh gosh this was chaotic sorry. If you're looking for a team to support, there's lots to like about AM. Every single team on the grid has both good and bad history to them, so you just need to pick whoever feels right to you.
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haly-reads · 1 year ago
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Hey Haly,
I think I once saw a post of yours saying freelancing. Can you please tell me how can a college fresher get into some online/freelance content writing or related jobs in India?
Hi! I suggest LinkedIn. It's advisable to create a profile even if you are just a fresher. You can list any internships (paid or unpaid) in your profile. Slowly, you can start applying for gigs. I assume that you have samples of your written content or/and a blog. All the best!
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