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dustofbrokenheart · 3 years

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The Covenant: Tech Guy

Reid Garwin x Reader

Word Count: 3,826

Summary: After renting a laptop from your campus library, you run into a download problem. A call to Library Tech Services for help introduces you to Tech Guy. Good at his job, but with questionable people skills, you learn to work with him. It certainly helps that he has an attractive voice.

This was not good, not good at all. It was less than an hour to midnight, the sun long since having set, and time seemed to pas faster, not slower, the later it got.

Now, you considered yourself to be pretty good with technology, perhaps not a computer genius but good enough to be able to troubleshoot most of your problems. It was pure bad luck that the night your capabilities failed was the night before you had an assignment due in Graphic Design.

Your own laptop had been ruined after an accident in the library had left the screen nothing more than a web of shattered fragments, but thankfully the library also carried laptops for checkout which saved you from having to fork out money that you didn’t have to buy a new one. You thought that checking out a laptop would be a quick fix to your problem, but you underestimated how high their demand was.

The librarian you spoke with at the circulation desk put you on a waiting list much to your disappointment and you left the building empty handed, unsure when one would become available.

The answer was six days later, the night before you had something due.

When they left a voicemail on your cell phone around seven o’clock to tell you that it was ready for pick-up, you immediately hopped on a bus bound for the library. The anxiety should have been somewhat alleviated because you could actually start to work on it now but when you got back to your dorm room and opened it up, another problem presented itself: the program you needed wasn’t installed.

Bad luck 1 – You 0.

Every time you tried to install it a message would pop up prompting you to enter an admin username and password in order to start the process. You had never seen that message before and innocently tried your own username and password. When that didn’t work, you tried three more times just to be sure.

Next stop was the internet, everyone’s favorite place to ask questions. You ran a quick search describing the problem and read through a couple of chat room threads. Disappointingly, nothing really applied to the situation at hand.

In hindsight, you shouldn’t have spent so much time trying to fix it because all that came of it was a lot of wasted time and you still hadn’t installed the program. You really didn’t want to take another trip to the library tonight if you could help it.

Frustrated and stuck you opened up the library’s webpage to see if there were any answers to be found. They didn’t but you did find the phone number for Library Tech Services, which was miraculously open even this late in the night.

Punching in the numbers you dialed and waited for someone to answer and when they did, it was short and to the point. “Library Tech.”

“Umm, hi… my name is y/n and I’m having an issue installing a program on my laptop rental.”

“Hmm. What’s the problem?” Again, not much to go on but the you could admit that tech guy’s voice sounded attractive.

“Well. I clicked on the install button, but as soon as I did a message telling me that I needed admin permission to continue flashed on my screen.”

“Did you try your university username and password?”

“Yes.”

“Did you double check that you typed everything correctly?”

“Yes.”

“Did you try Google?”

“Of course, I did,” you answered with exasperation. He snickered and you felt your hackles rise. You called the number to get helped, not to get laughed at. Attractive voice be damned.

“I promise I exhausted every trick I know, I’m not stupid. But I do have something to finish tonight so if you can help me out here, that’d be great.”

For a split second you felt bad for being short with him but the aggravation was quick to return. He was the one providing terrible customer service… why should you feel bad calling him out on it?

He must’ve gotten the hint because he cleared his throat and started being serious. “The library puts restrictions on its laptops because they don’t want people downloading stuff willy nilly. What do you need to install?”

“Just Adobe Illustrator.”

You heard him typing on a keyboard in the background. “Sounds okay to me. I’ll just give you the admin credentials so you don’t have to make a trip over here tonight.”

You started to say thanks until you processed the end of that sentence. “Wait, what do you mean by that?”

“Normally we require people to come in person to fill out a form. Once the request is approved, a person is supposed to enter in the admin stuff, but I’m going to give it out over the phone to save you some time.”

His words left you speechless. You had no idea there was a whole process to do something so simple as install a program; you should’ve asked more questions before you walked out with it. It was a good thing to remember for next time. And the earlier guilt returned, too. He was being so nice now, bending the rules so you didn’t have to make another trek on the bus, which was quite frankly a gamble after dark.

You thanked him profusely, the tension draining from your shoulders. Once you told him the laptops id number and he was able to confirm that it was rented out to your account, he shared the username and password with you.

With baited breath, you typed in exactly what he told you to and couldn’t help the happy noise that escaped you when it worked. It was impossible that tech guy saw your chair dance through the phone but he laughed again, making you question if he somehow knew anyway.

“Thanks, you’re a life saver!”

He cleared his throat and said “Glad to be of service.” Then he hung up without another word.

You pulled the phone away from your ear and looked at it blankly. What the heck was that about? Thinking back on the conversation left you feeling very confused but you threw yourself into getting your images drawn up on Illustrator and soon lost yourself in the work.

You ended up staying up late well past your normal bedtime but the deadline was enough motivation for you to push through the drowsiness and yawns. Around 3:30 you finally finished and emailed it to the professor so you wouldn’t have to worry about it in the morning.

Sleep came easy that night and you vaguely remembered dreaming about tech guy’s voice which was utterly ridiculous. He hadn’t even mentioned his name, for goodness sakes! Plus, he was so hard to read, bouncing between jerk and nice on a whim. Nope. You were not going to stoop to finding out who he was. Not a chance.

After yesterday’s incident, your first course of the new day was to go grab a cup of coffee. You weren’t an easy riser on a good day, even less so after being up until the wee hours of the morning and caffeine was going to be essential for powering you through your classes.

Your go-to place was a campus coffee shop two blocks down from your dorm. It was still winter but you found that as long as you bundled up, the walk over went quickly and the cold air worked wonders for organizing your thoughts. But the real reason it was your favorite was not its closeness, it wasn’t even for the coffee; it was because of the heavenly pastries they made daily. The croissants, the eclairs, the danishes… they were all excellent. None was above their banana chocolate chip muffins.

A little bell chimed as you opened the door and the blast of heat from inside the shop felt nice against your chilled cheeks. The familiar worker at the register looked up and smiled when they saw you. “Hey, y/n! Should I start working on your cappuccino order?”

“Yes, please!” You approached the counter, removing your gloves to make it easier to take out your card from your wallet. A gleaming dessert case also caught your eye and you tried to glance over discreetly. As subtle as you tried to be, the cashier knew you too well after serving you for the past couple of years.

“Oh, sorry. We’re out those again.”

“Again?” you questioned sorrowfully.

He gave you a sympathetic shrug. “They’re very popular, they always go fast.”

It used to be that you could get your hands on a banana chocolate chip muffin whenever you wanted one but the secret must’ve gotten out to the rest of campus because you’d struck out for the past weeks. With a dramatic sigh, you settled for a chocolate croissant. It was no muffin but it was something to tide over your stomach until lunch.

“You know,” you started conspiratorially, “How can someone be so talented yet stupid simultaneously? If that no-good-baker bothered to make more of them knowing how fast they sell, this wouldn’t happen.”

You had never actually met the baker that was the source of the yummy pastries. In fact, you’d never even seen him and only knew that he was good at what he did and that he never came out to the front of the shop. There was really no reason why you ragged on him that morning other than you had major plans for that muffin that now had to be put on hold.

The cashier chuckled as he rang you up and looked back at the door to the kitchen for a moment. “I’ll pass along the message.” He slipped the croissant in a brown paper bag and handed it, along with the travel coffee cup, over to you. “Have a good day. See you next time.”

You accepted it with a “You, too,” and were out the door to catch the next bus to your class.

***

Later that week, you ran into a familiar problem with the laptop. This time you needed to add Photoshop but figured that it shouldn’t be an issue now that you knew the password. So when you typed in the exact same thing as last time and the computer told you it was incorrect, you dragged a hand down your face and groaned. Well, you weren’t going to make the same mistake twice.

Swiveling around in your chair you grabbed your phone and called the Tech Services line again. The only thing that would make this even better would be if tech guy answered again, that’s how your luck was going that week. And sure enough, “Library Tech Services.”

You refrained from groaning again. Out loud anyway. “Hi, it’s y/n again. I was the one who called about the admin credentials Monday night?”

“What’s up?”

“I’m trying to install Photoshop right now and it’s telling me the username/password is incorrect, which is impossible because it’s what I used the last time.”

“Right. We had to change the password for our monthly maintenance, it’s a security thing.”

“You’re kidding,” you said surprise coloring your voice. “Any chance you can share the new one with me?”

“Technically, I wasn’t supposed to give that to you last time.”

It was time to turn on the charm and convince him like you managed to previously. As you pleaded with him to do you this favor he interrupted you.

“How bad do you need it?”

What was wrong with you that hearing him say that put your mind in the gutter? He definitely hadn’t meant it that way when he said it! He was much chattier this time around so you were able to appreciate his voice better and his voice just did it for you.

You cleared your throat. “It’s not an emergency this time, no impending next-day deadlines, but I do want to get working on this new assignment…”

“Okay, okay. You’re lucky I like you.” That was news to you because you didn’t get that vibe based on the last call. It was nice to hear though. Some clicks sounded from the other end of the line and you waited silently for a few moments before he was ready to say the new password.

“Whew, we’re good to go,” you updated him as the Photoshop installation started. Another moment of silence passed.

Finally, he said a quick, “Good.”

You weren’t caught off guard when you heard the click that signaled he had hung up. Unlike the last call, he hadn’t seemed rude and he did mention that he liked you. Maybe he was just an awkward sort of guy, despite his killer voice. That might explain why he worked an IT job, weren’t those kinds of guys supposed to have terrible people skills?

You worked with Photoshop for a bit and when you reached a good stopping point, you got ready for bed. That night you laid awake for a while, unable to drift off to sleep. Instead, you replayed the conversation with tech guy over and over in your mind.

He was very helpful when he wasn’t giving an attitude and he this was the second time he had bent the rules for you. That pesky word ‘like’ kept rattling in your brain and you started to wonder if that nice voice belonged to a nice face. Furthermore, was there a chance that he found your voice attractive as well?

***

Sunday morning on a college campus seemed like a smart time to visit the coffee given that most of campus wasn’t up yet, which increased the chances of you getting your hands on a banana chocolate chip muffin. Maybe even two or three if you were honest, to make up for the past several failed attempts.

The sun hadn’t been up long when you opened the door, the little jingling bell announcing your presence. A barrage of delicious aromas caressed your nose and to your extreme delight, one of the scents you detected was a banana-chocolate combination.

You walked up to the counter and the cashier smiled as he told you good morning.

“So… can I get three banana chocolate chip muffins?”

He merely smiled and started working on your cappuccino. “Of course. Reid just finished them so they still in the kitchen, piping hot.”

Reid must be the baker that was responsible for the muffins as well as responsible for never making enough. “Finally! This is a long time coming for me.”

“I passed him your message, I think he took it to heart.” He handed over the drink and turned to go to the kitchen. “I’ll be back with the muffins.”

He pushed the door open and for a split second you caught a glimpse of a side profile belonging to a blonde guy. He was too far away to distinctly make out any facial features but he had nice shoulders framed by his black tee and obvious blonde hair that was hard to miss. He looked cute to you, at least from a distance.

Those two details were the only things you took note of before the door closed, effectively blocking you from more staring. Too bad. It was totally ridiculous to think about but tech guy’s voice would be a good combination with baker guy’s looks.

You picked at the lid of the coffee cup while you waited for the rest of your order already anticipating how they would taste. Your plan was to only eat one this morning and to ration the rest, but you were honest enough with yourself to know that you might enter a feeding frenzy and have all three finished by lunch.

When the door opened up again your eyes searched for the seemingly cute baker but there was no sign of him. There wasn’t a chance to get down about it, however, because a smile lit up your face as soon as you saw the medium sized brown paper bag that held the muffins.

“Reid says these are especially for you,” the cashier said as he lifted the bag over the register.

You were quick to raise your hands to take it from him and made sure to thank him as you left, not questioning why Reid, a person you’d never met, would make a comment like that, figuring that he was referring to how you complained that the muffins were always sold out.

The morning air was especially cold as you trekked back to your dorm, your breath condensing into a fleeting, frozen cloud around your face and the only thing keeping your hands warm was the cappuccino you held between gloved hands. Still, the trip to the coffee shop was definitely worth it and you were hoping that it was a good omen to start the day off with.

***

Perhaps you were still experiencing the high of the morning victory at the coffee shop, but later on that night while you were working on homework once again, you started thinking about tech guy again. There wasn’t any need to call him; you now had both Illustrator and Photoshop on the laptop and there wasn’t anything else that you needed to install.

Still, you debated calling him. Not because you needed to but because you wanted to. Which was weird, even to you, but you had missed him the past couple of days, bad people skills and all. After the second call, you felt even more confident that he wasn’t as condescending a guy as you had first thought him to be. And you wouldn’t mind getting to know that awkward version of him better.

The hard part was you literally knew nothing about him other than he worked the night shift at the library. You didn’t have a name, a face, not even a work schedule to confirm whether he was working tonight or not. Reid must’ve been serious when he told the cashier those muffins were made especially for you because there had to have been a secret dose of recklessness mixed in there. How else would you explain this strange, and potentially creepy, call you were about to make?

The dial tone rang and you took a deep breath, not sure how this would turn out. On the fifth ring, someone finally picked up. “Library Tech Services.”

You laughed in relief. Tech guy was the on the other end of the phone. “Hey.”

“Hey, y/n. Having another crisis?” On one hand you felt a little embarrassed that you no longer had to say your name for him to recognize your voice but on the other, the possibility that he enjoyed talking with you, too.

“It may come as a surprise but I can get through a day without having a tech issue that needs solving.”

“Oh, really?”

“I swear.” You crossed your heart even though he couldn’t see you.

“Well, what do you want then?”

Time to be brave. “Actually, I called for you.”

“I would hope so, I’m the only who works this shift meaning I’m your only option.”

“No, um, I meant I wanted to tell you thanks for helping me out with installing that stuff on the laptop. You were a lifesaver.”

“I try.”

“Seriously! I definitely would’ve missed one graphic design deadline, potentially two if you hadn’t come to the rescue.”

That seemed to get his attention. “Is that your major? Graphic Design?”

“Yep. Don’t I give off bumbling artist vibes?”

“Hmm you seem pretty confident to me but there’s nothing wrong with that. My grandma was—” He started that sentence but abruptly cut off and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Are you saying I remind you of your grandma?”

“Shit,” he grumbled. “My friends told me to stop bringing her up when talking to hot people.”

“Don’t sweat it, she sounds like she was awesome so I’m honored. But back to the part where I’m hot… do you really think so?”

“Obviously. Do you think I hand out library secrets to every person who calls? Your voice is strong and you sound super smart so I tried my best to be cool with you.”

“Okay but future tip: hanging up on people and not telling them your name is rude, not cool.”

His embarrassment was tangible through the phone and you let him sweat momentarily before speaking. “Luckily for you, I like dorks such as yourself and am willing to look past it as long as I get your name.”

“It’s Reid. Reid Garwin,” he rushed to say.

Now that was interesting. You fell back on your bed, your brain trying to make connections. The name while not super common, wasn’t rare either and what were the chances that you met two of them on the same day. If Reid with the nice body and tech guy, er, Reid with the nice voice were one in the same, you wouldn’t be upset. Quite the contrary.

“Reid as in Reid who bakes my favorite sugar fixes on campus?”

“One in the same. You seen me there before?”

“Only once,” you reveal. “When I went to pick up some muffins this today.”

It was his turn to laugh. “Wait. Are you saying that you’re that customer who called me stupid the other day?”

“…Maybe.”

“They don’t let me out front cause I’m ‘too much’ for people but rest assured that the door isn’t that thick. I feel like an idiot for not recognizing that it was you though.”

The revelation that Reid was baking a tech hero, a winning mix by the way, thrilled you all the way from your head to your toes. At the moment you didn’t even care that he heard you calling him names at the coffee shop although you were sure the mortification would set in later.

“Would you like to go out sometime—”

“You do want to go out with me sometime—”

The two of you spoke at the same time and when you realized that the other had read your mind, you both giggled.

“After you,” you assured him.

“Shit, would you like to go out sometime? There’s a restaurant downtown that’s really good and I promise not to bring up grandma Garwin again.”

The plan was to pretend to think about it but your excitement overrode your brain and you said, “Deal as long as you promise to tell me more about her, not less.”

He started to answer you but stopped suddenly and you could vaguely hear him getting scolded by someone, reminding you that technically he was still on the clock.

“Sorry,” he grumbled, “The librarian on duty told me to stop flirting and get back to work. Stop by the coffee shop tomorrow though and we can talk more.”

You said your good-byes and rolled around your bed, the comforter thoroughly rumpled by the time you stopped. It seemed that your luck may be turning around for the better.

_______________

Thanks for reading my most self-indulgent piece to date. Also my longest! Reid may consider himself to be mister cool, but he is also an awkward bean who would make a great tech guy. It's also my first time experimenting with moodboards, let me know what you think :)

#the covenant #reid garwin #reid garwin x reader #imagines

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farfromtommy · 4 years

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better than this (dad!chris evans)

summary: a little insight into life as a parent with chris throughout the years

warnings: talk of preterm labor but nothing graphic or major

word count: 2,250

A/N: okay so like this idea came to me at 2 am and wrote it till about 5 in the morning and im crying at the softness. totally unedited and posted bc im so obsessed with it. i havent written in this kind of format before but i loved loved loved it. i was also thinking while writing this to do this but for steve rogers and i swear i lost my mind. if you guys are interested in something like that id love to write this but for steve <3

masterlist

add yourself to my taglist here!

After meeting through some mutual friends you fell in love with each other. Chris swore he would have married you after your first date. A ring came about a year and a half later, Chris not wanting to call you anything but his wife for any longer. One dream wedding and a month-long honeymoon around the world, you were Mrs. Y/N Evans.

The conversation about kids came fairly early in the relationship. Him coming from a big family, he wanted the same for himself. He wanted a big house in the Massachusetts suburbs, the white picket fence, a couple of dogs, and the kids. He wanted to come home from work being attacked by a couple of kids and seeing you walking towards him barefoot and pregnant.

You were an only child to divorced parents, growing up mostly on your own. You never saw yourself as a mom, but always loved the idea of running after a couple of kids. Never wanting to bring a child into the kind of world you grew up in. The sad and lonely kind of world you endured most of your life. After meeting his family after a couple of months of dating and seeing the way he interacted with his nieces and nephews, you couldn’t help but hope to see yourself raising some kids with him.

He loved the idea of raising a family with you.

Grayson Christopher Evans

You brought your first child into the world not too long after your wedding.

You were in labor for about 16 hours before you were met with the screams of a baby boy.

Your baby boy.

He cried and cried until his skin met yours, calming him down almost instantly. Looking over at Chris who was at an absolute loss for words at the little person calming himself with the sound of your heartbeat. He looked at you for a while before looking back at his baby boy.

Chris couldn’t quite process the feelings he felt that night his son was born. He knew how much he loved you. You knew how much you loved him. But having this little person as a tangible expression of your love and commitment for each other was just beyond him. It was beyond anyone.

Grayson was just like his dad. Almost an exact copy of him if you were being honest. The same big blue eyes. The same soft brown hair. The same everything. Lisa often said how much Grayson was just like Chris was when he was a kid. There was little of you visible in him. Maybe he had the curve of your nose and the shape of your lips. But he was all Chris.

His little personality bubbling since day one. You couldn't have asked for a more perfect baby. He giggled as much as he could and played until he fell asleep with a toy in his hand. You were so lucky to have been gifted this little boy as your first baby. Chris had been struggling to balance work and his responsibility to you and Grayson but never failed to make sure you knew how loved you both were, even from thousands of miles apart.

Eleanor Olivia Evans

After another long labor, you welcomed a little girl into your new family of 4. A tiny little girl who, just like your boy once did, calmed themselves down at the sound of your heart and the warmth from your body. Chris once again sat there just absolutely beside himself at the sight of the love of his life with his little girl on your chest.

Introducing Eleanor, or Ellie, to Grayson was probably one of the greatest moments of your life. Chris walked in with Grayson in his arms telling him that we needed to use our indoor voices when talking to mommy and the baby. Grayson quickly climbed to sit right next to you, not bearing even 1 day away from you. You hugged your little boy and talked to him about meeting his sister. Grayson ran his little hands running along Eleanor’s cheeks as you sat there crying at the moment they were having with each other.

Now with a 3-year-old and a 1-year-old life couldn’t have been sweeter. You had hardly been working while pregnant with Ellie, still having to keep up with a rambunctious toddler. Before kids, you were doing some writing for all sorts of movies and TV shows. After kids, you took fewer jobs that require travel and stayed mostly local.

Chris not wanting to leave you at home with a toddler and a newborn had made sure his work kept him close or allowed you and the kids to go with him. You both wanted to make sure you were there when Grayson and Ellie needed you.

If Grayson was a mama’s boy, Ellie was 1000% a daddy’s girl. She refused to let Chris out of her sight if she could help it. She refused to sleep most nights without hearing the sound of her dad’s voice and would cry and cry if he didn’t sing her to sleep. When Chris was pulled away for a week for work you were losing your mind trying to get her to sleep.

After a mild breakdown, you gave in and called Chris knowing even hearing his voice over the phone would calm the baby down. He sat there on the phone and just talked to her. She fell asleep almost immediately and slept through most of the night. You thanked Chris and ended up asking him for voice recordings of him talking and singing so you could play them in case he was pulled away again.

Charlotte Rose Evans

Charlotte, or Charlie as she's been nicknamed by her siblings, came into the world with a crew waiting so patiently for her arrival. By far the most painful and complicated birth you have had, she had quite dramatically made her entrance into the Evans family.

You had been monitored closely the last couple of months of your pregnancy as Miss Charlie tried to make an appearance early. You had some complications about halfway through and your midwife had been worried about possible preterm labor. You had started to have what you knew were contractions at 30 weeks and were immediately rushed into the hospital to try and halt the contractions and luckily succeeding.

You were placed on strict bed rest for the remainder of your pregnancy, not even allowed to stand at the stove making dinner, only getting up to use the bathroom and move from the bed to the couch.

It didn’t make your life with an overactive 4 and 2-year-old easy at all. Chris stayed home 24/7 to take care of you and his mom and sisters rotating taking the time to stay with you to help with the kids.

When Charlie did make her debut both of you were as healthy as you could be. Once again, bringing Chris to tears as another baby made their way into your family. He didn’t know he was capable of loving this much. He thought he had reached capacity after Ellie but the love he had for you and his kids just kept growing as you kept adding on.

If Grayson was all Chris, Charlie was all you. Except for her blue eye, which you figured would be a pattern with your kids. She was a copy of you and Chris ate it up. Eleanor is a perfect combination of the two of you. You could see the traits of you as well as the traits of Chris throughout her. But Charlie was completely you.

Grayson fit right into his role as big brother and protector of the Evans girls. He made sure every night he said goodnight to his sisters and told them he loved them with a kiss on their foreheads.

Ellie was excited that she no longer had to share her dolls with Grayson and would finally have a girl to play with. Charlie looked up to her big sister, seeing her as the most amazing person she has ever met.

Grayson, however, felt like he needed another sibling, specifically a boy sibling, and constantly asked you for a brother. He said to you over and over again that his friends at school had brothers and he needed one so very bad. You and Chris had agreed to stop at 3 but had given into the idea of having 1 more to try and even out the numbers. With Grayson in 2nd grade, Ellie in kindergarten, and Charlie starting Pre-K soon, having another wouldn’t be impossible.

Declan Robert Evans

The 2nd boy and the 4th and final child Chris and Y/N had brought into their world. Another perfect mix of Chris and Y/N.

His birth being the last time you would be in the hospital having a baby made it just that more emotional. You soaked in the first moments of his life just a little bit more. Chris cried just a couple more tears, seeing that angel on your chest for the first time. You admired the father of your children just a little more seeing him introduce the addition to the family to your other kids. Adoring the look on Grayson’s face when you set Declan on his lap, finally meeting the little brother he’d been wanting. Asking you if he could take him to class to show off to all his friends.

Walking around your house Declan’s first day home was more emotional than you had thought it would be. You brought every single one of your babies right through your front door. You had pictures littered around the house of moments in your life you were lucky to have immortalized forever. Knowing you had started your family here made you love everything just that much more.

Declan now 5 years old, Charlotte 8 years old, Eleanor 10 years old and Grayson at 12 years old you couldn’t imagine life any differently. You and Chris celebrated 13 years of marriage and almost 15 years together surrounded by the physical representations of the love you two shared for each other was unexplainable.

You had slowly started to get back into the work you loved doing so much after Declan started school. You were able to work on projects offered to you with Chris and had become an unstoppable duo professionally and personally.

Even having the amazing opportunities to do something you loved to do, nothing would ever beat sitting around a table listening to your kids talk about everything and anything that came to mind. Listening to them talk about what happened at school or about upcoming events they want to participate in was the highlight of your day.

Grayson had been playing with a football the moment he could pick one up. Chris nearly cried when Grayson had approached you guys about doing little league football at the rec center. Chris had been watching Patriot's games with Grayson since the day he was born. Taking him to games with Scott whenever they had the chance. The love for football ran in his blood and when he found out he could play on a team he took the chance as soon as it presented himself.

Eleanor had found a love for music and performing, just like her dad. She had picked up music and singing at a very young age, which probably came from her dad's love of performing. You encouraged her to pursue her love for music by telling her stories of when her daddy was young and used to stand on stage before he started doing big movies. She loved looking at pictures and watching old videos of Chris performing in high school whenever she'd visit Grandma Lisa.

Charlotte had picked up your love of reading and writing as soon as she could. Her favorite day of the week is when her class gets to spend time at the library finding new things to read and learn about. So far a running theme with her is books about nature and animals. She loves sitting down with you in the afternoon and telling you about what she learned in the science portion of her day. She had learned about how plants and animals interact and how important they are for all humans. She told you that when she's big she wants to make sure no one ever hurts plants and animals since they are so important for us.

Declan hadn't quite developed a love for something like his siblings had. All he cares about right now is the kind of snacks his mom packs for him and superheroes. You and Chris had introduced him to the world of superheroes recently, knowing that being in school someone was bound to mention to him about seeing his dad on a movie they watched. He was obsessed with the fact that his dad was a superhero once upon a time. He loved watching Chris' movies and would always ask to watch them whenever Chris wasn't home.

You looked at Chris from across the table as Grayson talked to him about football tryouts and asking him if they could practice after dinner. He felt your eyes on him and looked at you with a smirk and a wink thrown at you before giving Grayson his attention again.

You sat back a little to look around at this family surrounding you, knowing there was nothing better than this.

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twstarchives · 4 years

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Only The Roses Should Be Red

Card: Dorm Uniform - SSR Characters: Riddle, Cater, Trey, Deuce

Chapter 1

—HEARTSLABYUL DORM - LOUNGE—

Cater: Ugh… I just can’t get this memorized!

Trey: Oi oi, Cater. Where did your usual smarts go?

Cater: That’s easy for you to say, Trey-kun.

People have things they can do and things they can’t…

Trey: Failing next week’s written exam on practical magic could send your final grade spiraling, huh…?

Cater: Right! I seriously have to drill this spell into my head somehow…

Trey: Don’t say that while you’re opening Magicam on your phone.

Cater: I just don’t have any motivation…

But I’m able to remember things that get uploaded to Magicam…

Like the long menu names from trendy cafés, or the dates that cute clothes go on sale…

Riddle: Why are the two of you frowning?

Trey: Oh, Riddle. Right now I’m helping Cater study for his magic test. He’s close to failing.

Riddle: …He’s close to what?

Cater: Hold on a sec, Trey-kun! You didn’t have to tell him that!

Trey: Practical magic is a required course, so if you fail it here, I just don’t think you’ll be able to pass this year.

Riddle: Cater. Are your grades so poor that you might not even pass this year?

The only thing that should be red in this dormitory are the roses! It’ll be off with your head for all the red marks you’ve gotten!

Cater: N-No, no! This is the only thing I’m really bad at! I’ve never gotten red marks in any of my other classes!

Riddle: Failing something in even one of your classes should give you a sense of impending doom.

So? What are you struggling with?

Cater: “Auto-Cleaning Using Enchanted Supplies”…

Riddle: Auto-cleaning… So magic that makes brushes and rags clean by themselves.

I’m still a second-year, so I haven’t learned that lesson yet. But if it’s just the spell you need, I’ve read a book on it.

Cater: I’m having trouble with this “auto” part. The composition of this spell is almost like programming a machine.

It won’t work if I don’t follow the formula exactly, but… I just can’t memorize it…

Trey: That brings up a good point. You should avoid using any breakable objects with this magic, and be careful on the carpet…

Since you’ll have to cast that magic on the cleaning supplies beforehand.

Riddle: Cater’s Unique Magic allows him to clone himself, right?

If you’ve mastered magic that complex, how are you having trouble with this?

Cater: Well… I’m great at thinking of lots of things all at once, but I’m not that good at envisioning outcomes, or planning things out…

Riddle: So what you’re saying is… You’re smart, but you don’t put in any effort. I see.

Very well. Then I will teach you how to study.

Cater: What, seriously?!

Trey: But this is third-year level work. Is this really alright?

Riddle: Who do you think you’re speaking to? I’m the dorm leader of Heartslabyul.

Having the ability to fix all students’ problems regardless of grade level was one of the first qualifications of becoming dorm leader.

Ever since I took that role, no one has repeated a year or dropped out.

And as long as I’m in this position, there will be absolutely no failures in my dorm!

Just leave everything to me.

I will make it so that Cater gets a high score, guaranteed.

—LIBRARY—

Deuce: Um, the shelf that had alchemy grimoires was this one, right…?

Riddle: First we should use floating magic as a base… No, it’d be better to implement the transparency magic first.

A book further detailing the spell would be——Ah!

(Crash!)

Deuce: Ah!

Riddle: Ouch… I apologize, I was looking the other way.

Deuce: Dorm Leader Rosehearts! I’m so sorry!

Riddle: Oh, look who’s here—Deuce.

Deuce: I’ll help you pick up the books… Wait, you’re planning on reading all of these?

Riddle: Yes. Is there a problem?

Deuce: You have at least twenty grimoires here, and they’re all big and seem complicated…

Riddle: These are the materials I need so I can compile a test prep notebook for Cater.

Since solving student problems is the dorm leader’s duty.

Deuce: Th-That’s our dorm leader for you…! You have my respect.

The only thing I can help you with is carrying things for you… but, I will at least bring them to your desk.

Riddle: Thank you. You’re a big help.

Good. If I just summarize all of these grimoires, he should do perfect on his test.

I’m looking forward to handing him the finished product.

Chapter 2

—HEARTSLABYUL DORM - HALLWAY—

Riddle: Don’t take another step, Cater!

Why is it so hard for you to memorize just 300 pages of text?!

OFF WITH YOUR HEAD!!

Cater: It takes longer than one or two days to memorize 300 pages!

Plus, everything’s written so tiny and squished together, and it’s on A4-sized paper!

Stop yelling so angrily with your face that red!

Trey: Now, now, Riddle. Let’s calm down a little.

Riddle: Hah… Y-You’re right. Sorry for that.

...Ahem. Alright, Cater?

This test prep notebook I compiled for you is designed to counter any questions you might have.

It has the basics, advanced concepts, and trick questions… If you memorize just these 300 pages, you’ll be able to understand all of that.

So stop thinking about how hard it is and just memorize this text!

Cater: I know you worked really hard to make this, and I want to memorize everything too.

But every time I open the text, whenever I get to page 3 I just get tired all of a sudden…

Riddle: Page 3, you said?

So you’ve only read up to the table of contents?!

You’re just asking to have your head roll!!

Trey: R-Riddle. I understand how you feel, but come on now…

Riddle: Nngh…!!

Trey: And Cater. If this is putting you to sleep, then start reading out loud. Put some effort into getting this memorized.

Our busy dorm leader went through the trouble of making this just for you, after all.

Cater: That’s true. Yeah. Sorry…

Alright. I have one week till my test, so from now on I’ll seriously try to study!

Riddle: Hmph. If you had me do this much for you and still end up failing…

It really will be off with your head. Keep that in mind!

Cater: I-I’ll do my best.

I’ll make a post of my plans on Magicam, and then take a break from it for a little bit.

First let’s take a picture of the test prep notebook Riddle-kun made… Here.

(Snap!)

Cater: #TestStudyTime #300PagesofText #HandmadebyRiddlekun #TakingItSeriousNow #NoDozingOff

Posted~! Alright, I’ll go back to my room and start studying. Thank you, you two.

(Cater leaves)

Riddle: Honestly. That drives me crazy about Cater.

He’s only ever looking at Magicam like that and forgets about studying.

Trey: I’m sure you can understand the feeling of trying to get out of doing something you don’t want to do.

Riddle: That doesn’t mean it’s okay for students not to study.

Trey: That’s true…

…Do you have any foods you don’t like, Riddle?

Riddle: Hah? That’s so random.

But if I had to answer… I guess I wouldn’t want to eat anything that’s bad for you, or anything with too much seasoning.

Trey: What if you had to eat every last bite of something with heavy seasoning, no matter what…

How would you eat it?

Riddle: Hmm. I’d figure out a way to make it just a little easier to eat.

Like adding hot water to dilute the flavor, or eating it in portions with sides like bread or rice.

Or also maybe eat it with something I like…

…………..AH!

——I see. That’s what’s going on!

In that case, Cater would definitely….!

Trey: What happened, Riddle?

Riddle: Trey, there’s something I want you to show me.

Chapter 3

—HEARTSLABYUL DORM - ROSE MAZE—

Cater: *Yawns*… I’m tired…

I seriously just can’t go on without Magicam… Alright, forget I made that rule. Morning Magicam check~!

Riddle: You have a big mouth, Cater, just like the walrus who stuffed his face with oysters.

Cater: Ah, Riddle-kun! M-Morning~ You look totes cute like always today!

Oh, th-this is not what you think! I wasn’t looking at Magicam or anything…

Riddle: Ah, speaking of Magicam…

I made an account yesterday too.

Cater: Oh….. HUH?!

You started a Magicam?!

Riddle: What’s with that reaction?

Should I not have a Magicam?

Cater: No, it’s not that! It’s just, you’ve always said you “weren’t interested” and never made an account, so that surprised me.

Riddle: Hm. I just happened to feel like making one.

And I thought I’d come ask for your ID.

Cater: For sure, let’s add each other! I’m super excited to see the pics you upload~☆

Riddle: Hehe. Be sure to check everyday so you don’t miss anything.

—CLASSROOM—

Ding~♪

Cater: Oh, Riddle-kun posted on Magicam! Let’s see~

I wonder what kind of picture he posted~♪

...Huh? What’s this?

Is this… a picture of a broom?

Riddle: #FirstOfAll #TouchAllFourCornersOfYourRoomWithTheBroom #WhileCastingTheSpell #FloatingMagic #SageAndSalt

Cater: Haha, he put some weird tags. It’s like he’s not familiar with it yet; it’s cute~!

—HEARTSLABYUL DORM - CATER’S ROOM—

Ding~♪

Cater: Riddle-kun uploaded something to Magicam again. This time… a towel? Err, no, this is…

A rag!

Why would he upload a picture of a rag?

I wish he’d post more attractive pics, like selfies or aesthetic lunches.

Riddle: #AfterTheBroom #PutMagicStoneInWaterBucket #5DropsOfPurificationPotion #KeepWaterTempBelow20Degrees #ExtremelyImportant!

Cater: Wait? Don’t tell me, these tags…

—HEARTSLABYUL DORM - RIDDLE’S ROOM—

Riddle: Next is the spell to brush the carpet.

I’ll take a picture of the scrub brush… umm, what tags should I put?

“#WaterMagic #FireplaceAshes #SilverApple” and then… also…

This should be good. …There, it’s posted.

Oh. Cater immediately liked it.

It looks like his account is showing progress of his studying today as well.

I’ll leave a like. …Good.

—HEARTSLABYUL DORM - LOUNGE—

A few days later

Cater: Riddle-kun!! Trey-kun!!

Riddle: Cater. How were the results on your magic test?

Cater: Tada, take a look! I got an 85 on the written portion, and an A on the practical portion!

Riddle: That’s great!! …….*coughs*.

Trey: Good for you, Cater.

Cater: Now I won’t have to repeat a year! Thank you, Riddle-kun, I mean it!

Riddle: Hmph. I gave you thorough instruction. This was the obvious result.

Trey: I was surprised when Riddle suddenly asked me to show him how to make a Magicam account…

I never would’ve imagined he’d use pictures and tags to teach Cater spells.

Cater: Well, that seriously was a genius idea!

The spell hashtags on Riddle-kun’s account were super, super, super cool!

When I was frantically trying to study from that notebook, it put me straight to sleep, but these I memorized no problem!

Next time, I’ll take you to a Magicammable pancake café as thanks ♡

Riddle: God, you really are a sweet talker… But there won’t be a next time.

Because if you ever get close to failing a required course again, it really will be off with your head!

Cater: I know, I know ♪ I’ll work hard from now on!

Riddle: Good answer. Now, to get started…

Bam!

Cater: Ggah, what’s with all these books?

Riddle: This is just the beginning. Go through all of these to get ready for your next test!

Cater: What?! Are you serious?

Riddle: Didn’t I tell you? As long as I am dorm leader…

There will be absolutely no failures in Heartslabyul!

#riddle rosehearts #personal story #dorm uniform

158 notes · View notes

fleckcmscott · 4 years

Text

The Falls

Summary: Arthur and Y/N reach Gotham City Hall. Two weeks later, they share a taste of newly-wedded bliss.

Warnings: Swearing, Adult situations

Words: 5,953

A/N: This request came from @jokerownsmysoul. I'm grateful for it - it was a real challenge. I can't wait for more! I also need to extend a hearty thanks to @sweet-nothings04 for her support. I've been going through a rough period, which is why my output has slowed. She encouraged me, listened to and helped me work through my doubts, and gave me great feedback. Also, send love to @howdylilflower for reading through this, sharing her thoughts, and pointing out my obvious errors!

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open!

Gotham City Hall was, to put it briefly, imposing. Statues of former mayors and city founders stood on either side of its massive staircase. The Corinthian capitals of the portico's columns rose three stories above the entrance. The glass and copper doors, made heavy by their vertical, iron security bars, provided a sense of elite exclusion, regardless of it being a municipal building.

As Y/N and Arthur dashed up the marble steps, their buoyant laughter filling the air, none of that mattered. All that pomp and circumstance was immaterial compared to the leap they were about to make. The leap she hadn't expected that morning but had craved for months. The leap into wedlock and all the dedication, trust, and responsibility that went with it.

The Office of Licensure and Registration was far busier than she'd assumed - it was set to close in half an hour. Two clerks worked the winding line of people dealing with the unremarkableness of bureaucracy. A woman complained about the cost to renew a dog license. ("But he's only a mutt!") At the window, a man was being told he needed to head down the hall and to the left. One guy was muttering to himself about what he was going to have for dinner once he was "out of this hellhole." The atmosphere, admittedly, was not ideal.

However, the love of her life standing beside her, clutching her hand a tad too hard, made it perfect. She examined Arthur's profile as he stared ahead. The joy and relief hadn't left his visage after she'd accepted his proposal. Pensiveness hid in the flare of his nostrils, though. In the repeated clench of his jaw. In the quiet bounce of one knee.

She pursed her lips. Taking off up the street and demanding to be married straight away had been pushy. Under no circumstance did she want him to feel pressured, especially not when it came to this. But, she considered, it was natural to be anxious. And he'd appeared ecstatic, too, nearly yanking her onto his lap on the bench at Lemmars Park.

Tucking back the stray, chestnut strand by his temple, she murmured, "I'm the happiest woman on earth right now." She gently loosened her fingers from his grip and hugged his slim waist. With a bashful duck of his chin and quick puff, his arm went across her shoulders. The crinkles at the corners of his eyes told her his tight-lipped smile was sincere. That he needed this as much as she did. That he'd be all right.

The clerk, whose nametag read "Kyle," was polite and indifferent. Leaning on the counter, they hastily retrieved their IDs from her purse and Arthur's wallet. She rattled off her social security number from memory, while he had to find his card. After paying a fifteen-dollar fee, a slew of typing, and Y/N promising to provide a copy of her divorce papers, Kyle handed them a fountain pen and beige piece of parchment.

Floral borders decorated the edges, an art deco design out of the twenties. The title "Marriage License" leapt out, printed in a font belonging to a carnival barker's wagon. Their names, cities of birth, and birthdays were listed. A final paragraph stated the following: "The undersigned are both of sound mind, are consenting adults, and willingly commit to the bonds of matrimony." They merely had to sign on the respective "bride" and "groom" lines to make it official.

Y/N bent to sign the paper without delay. Not wanting to smudge the ink, she forced her hand to go slower than usual. Arthur grazed her knuckles as she passed him the pen. Only a couple seconds went by, then he jotted his name, a scraggly "A. Fleck." She heard his breath catch as the clerk notarized the document.

The paper needed to be mailed to central office for processing, Kyle explained (which Y/N already knew). A photocopy was made so she could change her name. The official marriage certificate could be picked up in approximately three weeks. To her surprise, he said, "Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Fleck" before closing the window's shade.

And that was it. They were husband and wife in less time than it took to register a new car.

Exhilaration fluttered in her abdomen. Pumped its way from her heart to the tips of her toes as they strolled arm-in-arm towards the closest subway station. Y/N suggested they grab a bite to eat to celebrate, maybe go to Kao Wah. But Arthur stated he wasn't hungry. "I'd like to be home. With my- with my wife." He averted his gaze as he said the last words, the tip of his tongue darting to his top lip as if to the savor their flavor.

Given how much he'd learned about traditions from old movies, she'd suspected he'd try to carry her over the threshold. She was grateful he didn't. Instead, he pressed her into the coats and jackets hanging on the wall. Kissed her with his entire body. "I need to make love to you," he uttered into her neck. The softness of the euphemism was strikingly different from his urgency as he unbuttoned her blouse. He'd have likely taken her in the entranceway if she hadn't led him to the bedroom.

The intensity with which he fucked her into the mattress hadn't been experienced since he'd shown up at her apartment drenched, lost, and unable to fully accept she loved him. But this moment was distinct. Although the lines of his face were taut, his eyes were filled with ardor. He entwined their fingers, crushed her to him, drove her hand into the pillow. "Say you're mine," he implored, the jerks of his pelvis deep and uneven. "Please. Say you're all mine."

It wasn't like her to give herself to someone. To allow that person to own her. She'd tried that before; it hadn't been good for either of them. Yet, she'd pledged her fidelity to Arthur barely two hours ago. She knew what his request meant. He didn't want to change or dominate her. He simply needed to hear her answer. To know he was no longer alone in the world and wouldn't be for the rest of his life, even if he doubted.

Caressing the expanse of his back and his distended shoulder, she responded. "Of course, I'm yours, Arthur." The tip of his nose met hers, and she savored the smile he pressed against her cheek. "Of course, I'm yours."

She absentmindedly played with his hair. Holding him to her breasts, she went over everything she had to do the following day. Having a plan calmed her, aided her in thinking straight. And the list she was making was a pleasure because everything on it involved him. "I have to call the landlord to add you to the lease. Go to the DMV to get my name changed. Add you to my insurance at work. Oh, we need to combine our bank accounts, too." She peeked at the top of his head. "I have a feeling I'll remember to write 'Mrs. Fleck' easier than '1983' when the new year arrives."

The emerging rigidness of Arthur's frame and the burps that suddenly left him alerted her to his tumult. He pushed himself off her, swung his legs over the side of the bed as guffaws ripped their way from his throat. She scurried behind him to see his palm hover above his ribs as he covered his mouth with the other.

It had been weeks since his condition had flared up around her. Even longer since he'd tried and failed to hide it. Acceptance of his affliction was a concept that was sometimes hard for him to accept; her kindness and love couldn't erase thirty-five years of distress. But he had gotten better at believing it and she was proud of him. Not wanting any of his progress to be lost (especially not on their wedding night), she helped him through it, as usual. Kissed his bicep. Reminded him to take deep, even breaths. Blessedly, the attack didn't last long.

He was wringing his hands, the shaking of his head almost imperceptible. "What if I-" He spoke lowly, fear emitted with every syllable. "What if I wake up in Arkham? Or taking care of Penny again?" Y/N continued to listen as she searched for the best reply. "I never thought I'd have what I wanted." A humorless chuckle as he swiped his nose. "I don't want it to go away."

She wondered if what he was saying was due to trepidation or illnesses. Then she realized the differentiation was irrelevant. What mattered was soothing him. Letting him know it was all right. And real. Slowly, she knelt on the floor in front of him. "I'm not going anywhere," she confirmed, cupping his weathered cheeks. "I adore you." Smiling, she claimed his lips. "I'm your wife."

His toothy grin caused her pulse to skip, and he drew her to his chest. "I'm your husband."

"There's no one else I'd rather be married to."

Laying on the mattress, he closed his eyes. She stroked his lean pectorals, delighting in his resulting sighs. Once the tension in his sinews seemed to ebb, once he looked relaxed, he made a thoughtful sound. "Are we gonna have a honeymoon?"

~~~~~

For as long as he could remember, Arthur had ridden buses. They were usually crowded, stuffed full of humanity. A cushioned, plastic seat was free about a third of the time. Apart from the engine, the rides were fairly quiet. Everyone wanted to get to their destinations instead of conversing. He'd gathered that from observing them. From trying to figure out how to make a connection.

The tour bus he was currently on felt like the pinnacle of luxury, with its padded, fabric chairs and tinted windows. A newer adventure movie played on the tiny television built into the ceiling, its volume so low he could make out only half the dialogue. There was a bathroom (a bathroom!) in the rear, cleaner than any public one around the city. Passengers were few. A young couple sat across the aisle, playfully teasing each other. Sights like that had sparked melancholy in the past. Now the corner of his mouth quirked.

He'd yearned to get out of the city. To go somewhere warm, beautiful, and calm. To have space but not loneliness, which was readily available at home. The postcards he'd kept in his locker at work and on his refrigerator had been a feeble attempt to keep the hope of leaving alive. A co-worker had asked about them once. Arthur, seeking to cover-up his vulnerability in a room full of tough guys, had mumbled a quick, "They're just pictures."

California's distance from Gotham had made it a promised land. He would have liked to walk its shores. They had to be cleaner than those of the city. Meet the people there. They were likely kinder due to the sunniness of the state's weather.

He'd lain on his worn sofa or written in his journal, particularly on chilly nights, fantasizing about playing ukulele on the beach with a pretty Hawaiian girl. The light shining off her tan skin, a contrast to his own pallor. The sway of her hips while she danced the hula would match the rhythm of his novice strumming. After a shallow dip in the ocean, they'd make love in the sand. The sun would be setting to their left. A campfire would burn bright on the right. It would have been great.

But the woman currently dozing on his shoulder made the reality he was experiencing finer.

It had been difficult for him to admit his disappointment upon learning Y/N hadn't thought of a honeymoon. The notion had been unimportant to her, as unimportant as having a wedding. When they'd married two weeks ago, she'd said, in her usual, casual manner, "You're my husband and I'm your wife and that's fine." He'd believed he'd gotten her meaning - that frills and fusses were unnecessary, so long as they were partners. But his chest had ached all the same. He'd awaited the opportunity to let out the old romantic in him for years. Those frills and fusses were crucial to him.

The brochure for Niagara Falls had been one of many in the travel agency's window. Its bright blues and greens had caught his eye when he'd passed by on the way home from therapy. He'd heard of the tourist spot on television. Weekend trips were awarded as prizes on game shows. A magician may have gone over them in a barrel. It was supposed to be the honeymoon capital of the world. And it was only four hours from home. He'd figured it would be easy to sell her on the idea.

He'd shown her the pamphlet as soon as she walked through the door, prattling with anticipation as she slipped off her heels. "There's a Skywheel. We've been on the Ferris wheel as Amusement Mile but this one's taller." He'd pointed at a picture while taking her coat. "There are a lot of restaurants. And a town we can walk in..."

Trailing off, he'd lifted one shoulder. "I know you've done all this before. A honeymoon, I mean." His brows pinched. "But not with me. I just want-" The interruption of Y/N's lips had stilled him, the twine of her fingers in his hair switching the racing of his brain to the pounding of his heart. Once they'd parted, the affection in her eyes reassured him.

"That's wonderful suggestion," she'd said. "We'll call a hotline for motel recommendations after dinner. I'm sure I can wrangle a free Friday from Phil." Her eyelashes had fluttered against his neck and she'd snorted. "You should have seen his face when I changed my name. And told him you'd be joining me on every business trip."

The memory made him feel fuzzy in spots he hadn't known existed until she'd seeped into them.

It was early evening, cold, and raining when they arrived. Y/N held her pop-up umbrella over them as he retrieved their shared suitcase. Thank goodness the stroll from the bus depot and to their lodgings was short. Only shallow splashes got on their pants during their scurry up the sidewalk.

Arthur had chosen the Honeymoon City Hotel for a few reasons. The ad had promised a view of the falls from every room, which he'd thought charming. A special newlywed's suite had been offered, Jacuzzi, cable television, and free breakfast included. And the place's corny name. Its silliness had touched the part of him that had bought a rose when he'd had no clue what he was doing, having dinner at a woman's apartment like a regular man. The part that compelled him to impulsively grab her hand while they stirred pots on the stove. The part that could, every so often, envision a brighter future for himself because he had her.

The motel, however, stated there was a problem. The room had been double-booked, a mistake blamed on a new employee having forgotten to note their reservation. The other guests had checked in earlier and couldn't be moved.

Having had a plethora of first days, Arthur understood what it was like to be new on the job. But he was still irritated. He asked where they were supposed to stay, then muttered to himself. He didn't want to be upset on their special weekend. Graciously, Y/N patted his arm and stepped in. He self-soothed with nicotine and noted how, in her kind but direct style, she negotiated a stay in one of the business suites and a ten percent refund. The front desk person told them their bag would be in their room.

They were also given a coupon for the nearby revolving restaurant. He'd been intrigued by the mention of it in his brochure, but he'd assumed it was too expensive. It was just beyond the Canadian border in Skyfall Tower. Because of the discount and no passports being needed, they decided to catch a cab and go.

Though Arthur usually didn't eat a lot, they opted for the buffet. He'd thought it a better value, and it would allow him to try new dishes without worrying he'd be stuck with something he didn't like. The novelty of the made-to-order stir-fry felt opulent. And it was fun adding broccoli, carrots, and mushrooms, but no water chestnuts because their texture was bizarre. Y/N appeared to enjoy the chicken Kiev and quiche, going back for a second helping of the latter.

Gazing out at the panorama provided by the windows surrounding them, Arthur titled his head. Droplets ran down the pane of glass, obscuring the view. The multi-color illumination of the falls were hazy from the rain. The plaque at the entrance had stated they were fifty-five stories up. In Gotham, he'd never been worth enough to go above the tenth floor. He wondered how fast they were spinning. He couldn't feel the momentum, but their position had changed slightly during dinner.

In his peripheral vision, Y/N was licking the rest of her chocolate mousse off a spoon. Nonchalantly, as if she didn't know the effect it would have on him. "This was almost worth the mistake the motel made," she said. But she winced as she straightened, put her palm on her stomach. "I'm not going to be able to move for the rest of the night."

Rolling his eyes and giving a half-smirk, he stood and guided her out of her seat. "You just need to walk a little." He slipped her jacket around her back. "Come on."

~~~~~

Y/N tried to stifle her laughter at Arthur's bewilderment. The room was...not what either of them had anticipated. (And a reminder why she was dubious about motels that had silly names.) Saying it left something to be desired was being generous.

Brown wood grain paneling, too dark to be considered cozy, was on the walls. Two twin beds, about three feet apart, were on the right. She chose the one closest to the windows, and it creaked and groaned as she sat on it. ("I hope the walls are thicker than they look.") Dim lamps with avocado green shades were on the nightstands in the middle. A thirty-two-inch television sat on the bureau across from the footboards. The room's saving grace was a fireplace in the back corner.

He popped his head into the bathroom, stated the shower was smaller than theirs, and grumbled that there was no whirlpool bath. She did not mourn that loss. The couple of times she'd used one, the pumps and jets had been loud and distracting. Besides. They were bound to test one out eventually.

Arthur made his way to the acrylic curtains and opened them. "I see...a parking lot." He shoved his hands in the pockets of his tan jacket and sighed. "This wasn't what I pictured."

She knew he'd blame himself because he'd picked the place, which was ridiculous. They'd both agreed to it. Disappointment and guilt on their honeymoon? That wouldn't do. "Vacations never go as planned. That's why you return home more drained than when you left." Reaching behind her, she flipped on the radio. Searched for and found a station playing upbeat music. Kept the volume at a level where the notes of "The Hustle" were barely audible but could still cheer. She stood and flipped back the covers. "Well, the sheets are clean. Help me push these together."

Chuckling, he brought the lamps she'd unplugged to the nearby desk, then moved the nightstands out of the way. There were four or so inches between the mattresses when the bed frames met, but they'd make the most if it. The ease with which he'd moved his bed against hers impressed her, prompted her to squeeze her thighs together.

While Arthur stuck his head out the window for a smoke, Y/N got to work. She dug out the sparkling wine she'd packed (not champagne, which he found too sour) and unwrapped the plastic cups by the ice bucket. After screwing off the top and pouring them both a serving, she stripped to her bra and panties, a lacy dark green set she'd bought for the trip. Then she tip-toed to him. "Mr. Fleck, would you do me the honor of starting the hearth?"

He flicked his cigarette, stood, and turned to her. The desire and love in his intent stare as it roamed up her body, and the softening of his features made her blush. She looked at the brown carpet demurely. "I only packed lace."

The raging flames were half a yard away, a yellow and orange glow illuminating them both. She traced his spine to the beads of sweat gathering in the small of his back. They'd begun mere minutes ago, but she was already light-headed. Not only from the satisfaction of him repeatedly filling her, the joy of joining with him entirely. But also from the blazing heat.

She focused on the drop perspiration rolling down his forehead to his nose, then felt it fall onto her neck. "Arthu-" The last letter was stolen by his lips, the tip of his tongue teasing hers. She broke off, gasping. "Can we take a break?"

Blinking at her, he stopped, the crease between his eyebrows deepening. "A break?"

Gently, she pushed at his hips and nodded. "I feel like I'm going to melt. And not in the good way."

He left the grip of her body carefully and went to the knob next to the fireplace. "I think it's on a timer." She watched his grimace as he attempted to turn it counterclockwise. "It won't budge."

Y/N scooted away from the fire, rolled onto her side, and grabbed her mostly full cup. "We'll have to wait it out." He pouted at her and she laughed. "Hey, waiting will make the quenching sweeter." Taking a sip, she beamed up at him. "I don't think I told you how I got to Gotham."

There was a pause before he swiped back his damp locks. "What do you mean? It was your old job." He stretched to lie beside her, propped on his forearm.

"That's true but there's more to it." Entwining their calves, she draped an arm over his hip so she could caress the modest curve of his rear. "I used to get groceries every Tuesday in Missouri - the shop was further out, so I couldn't go and get a couple of ingredients, like you and I do." She turned onto her back, surveyed the off-white popcorn ceiling. "It would be empty. Lines were short. New stock would have come in.

"I always bought three newspapers for the help wanted section: the Daily Planet, the Toronto Star, and the Gotham Journal. One week I had to work late and go on a Thursday, and the store was out of the Journal." She giggled and shook her head. "I was so annoyed. I'd avoided the Gotham Globe because it looked like a trashy tabloid. But I settled."

The skim of his fingertips across her belly was a series of tender, repeated lines. Her gaze flicked to his, her smile breaking her face wide open. "That's where I found the ad for Shaw and Associates." She brought his knuckles to her mouth. "That annoyance is what got me my job. Allowed me to move to Gotham." She grasped his chin, ran her thumb along his deepening dimple. "What led me to you." Arching a brow, she gave a little shrug. "It's almost enough to make me believe there's a reason for everything. Not quite. But almost."

The concentration in the lines of his forehead told Y/N he was trying to find the right way to express himself. He gave it a go. "You're my reason."

She winced. It was a conversation they'd often had. While she appreciated what he said, held every word in her heart, he tended to aggrandize her and not give himself proper credit for how well he was doing. For going to treatment, for trying different medications. For being honest. She was still finding the kindest, most effective ways to correct those notions. To emphasize they were equals, through and through. "Arthur, I can't be your only reason."

"That's not what I meant." He rubbed the side of his face. Sitting up, he hugged his legs to his chest and his eyelids fluttered shut. "I don't hate myself as much as I used to. Not every day."

He fidgeted with the carpet. Y/N put her palm on his foot, traced the tendons of his ankle. Tried to help bolster him to confide whatever he wanted. "My mother would say she was the one who knew my purpose. That she didn't mind my laugh, because I was happy all the time." Scoffing, he took Y/N's proffered cup. "If she told me I wasn't funny or I did something wrong-" He swallowed hard and finished her wine.

She got it. Penny, along with his experiences in and perceptions of Gotham, had hammered into him that he was hard to love. An egregious, groundless lie. The pain underlying what he'd disclosed settled in her stomach, a dull ache for what he'd lived through. She was about to speak when he wiggled his toe to stroke her wrist. "I'm sorry if that makes you uncomfortable."

"Psh." She sat to hug him across his back at the waist. "I've never been uncomfortable around you. Not once." He leaned into her as she kissed his temple. The reflection of the hearth in his light green eyes was beautiful, flecks of brown and hazel shining. Gladness lurked in them, undeterred by their earnest exchange. She tousled his curls, ran her nails over his scalp until a pleasured moan escaped him. "Don't ever apologize for telling me how you feel."

A prolonged but companionable silence, then. As the fire died down, she lay on the floor. Pulled him to follow her until his wiry frame covered her. "I hate to break it to you, but you're not that weird."

Enfolding their fingers, he squinted at her. "I'm not?"

"Sorry to let you down." She wrapped her legs about his middle, squeezed him tight as he opened her lips with his. "Loving you is one of the easiest things I've ever done," she purred. She kissed his face in a line, then whispered in his ear. "Planning to proposition a man on the third date was never a habit of mine."

"Hm." At the weight of him hardening against her thigh, she gripped his shoulders and arched towards him. "Did you always flirt with men in the grocery store?"

The mild pinch to his bottom was instantaneous.

~~~~~

After procuring two apples, bananas, and donuts from the breakfast buffet and bringing them to their suite, Arthur decided to journal. He'd been awake since four. There was only so much smoking, staring at the walls, and trying to go back to sleep he could do. So as not to disturb Y/N, he went to the bathroom and sat on the closed toilet, notebook on his lap.

The pen flowed freely and he snickered. It always felt good when jokes came easily. "My mother wud say (change voice here) 'mariage isn't for everyone.' But I found the one person who wanted to marry me. Sorry, mom. It's funny." "I have a wife. It's great to have one special person to steel the blankets from."

Tears pricked a couple punchlines later. He wiped at them with a square of tissue paper. "Today I feel good," he jotted. "I think it's because I like being maried. I'm so proud of myself for sticking with Y/N. The worst days are better. I used to wunder how long I could live with noone caring about me. But I don't half to anymore. I hope I never do again."

A yawn beckoned him and he padded through the doorway to peak towards the beds. Y/N was opening the drapes, just enough to let a strip of sunlight illuminate the room. She was pretty, barefoot, her nightdress ending mid-thigh as the rays framed her silhouette. He sidled up behind her. "What do you call two spiders that just got married?"

Turning, she tapped her chin, apparently giving it a good, long think. "Mr. and Mrs. Arachnid?"

Even if she was wrong, he appreciated her effort. "Newly-webs." Giggling, she hugged him around the neck, stretched slightly to kiss him. "I was on a roll this morning. Maybe I can make them part of my act."

She clambered into the bed beneath the covers and patted the narrow space next to her. It was a tight fit, but he climbed in eagerly, anyway. As he brought her half on top of him, she said she'd looked at the TV schedule and found a movie to start the day. One starring Humphrey Bogart and Katherine Hepburn. The film was new to him, though he'd heard of it. He enjoyed the unexpected love story between two people from completely different backgrounds. Nibbling on a chocolate donut, he wondered if Y/N saw the parallels. If that was why she'd chosen it.

When they finally got dressed and headed out, they discovered the Skywheel Arthur had been looking forward to was closed for the season. It appeared they'd gotten married too late in the year for a lot to be open. There was a wax museum and an arcade in the nearby town. Neither appealed to him. But as they wandered the streets, they found the Houdini Magic Shop.

The manner in which she was browsing the props and instruction cards made it was obvious Y/N was out of her element. The only clown performance she'd seen in years had been his. But she was sweet and enthusiastic, and pointed out items she thought might be of interest. He was polite when he declined them. In the end, Arthur picked out a color changing blossom and a never-ending scarf. Although it was a store for performers, he found pens Y/N could use for work. He presented them to her with a flourish, and she promised she'd use them daily.

They stopped by a nearby souvenir shop. It was small, about half the size of their living room. He bought a few postcards to go with the ones on his vanity. She chose three, scrawled "We're hitched!" on them, and mailed them to Patricia, Mabel, and Penny. There was a photographer's booth, too, and he convinced her to have their photo taken. The cardboard frame he chose had "We're honeymooning at Niagara!" emblazoned at the top in bright blue letters. It wasn't her taste. Not at all. But she claimed to like it, stating simply, "At least you're gorgeous."

And now, after a quick lunch of sandwiches and soup at a nearby cafe, they stood on the observation deck overlooking the falls.

Beyond city parks, Arthur hadn't seen a lot of nature. Though he appreciated the majesty of the place, he wasn't mesmerized by it. Not really. The height intimidated him. There had been periods in his life during which he would have gladly flung himself into the depths. Not to die. Just to make everything stop. Smiling slowly, squeezing the hand of the woman next to him, he was grateful not to feel that now.

He swiveled to study her. She was peering through coin-operated binoculars, a contented look on her face. She offered him a turn but he declined, already having the best view. He ran his thumb over the gold band on her left hand and shut his eyes.

He'd heard a song once. The lyrics had said he would be nobody until somebody loved him, and until he found somebody to love. It was plain the love the person sang about wasn't the one he'd felt for Penny. He'd thought half the equation might have been enough. But he hadn't felt much improvement when he'd fallen for his neighbor. He'd grown to hate it, going so far as to hawk the LP, despite liking the other tracks on it. He'd known he'd always be a nobody - he didn't need a tune to rub it in.

Nothing in this world, not even its natural wonders, would ever compare to the beauty of Y/N understanding him for who he was. Of her choosing to care for him even after seeing him. Of him finally having the ability to demonstrate the love he'd always wished was buried somewhere inside him.

Of her confirming his existence.

Her hand going to her forehead caught his attention. He tightened his grip on her, blinked away his musings. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"Just a little vertigo. I'll be fine." Resting on the metal railing, she let out a long exhale. "It's too bad we have to head home tomorrow. This is miles better than my first honeymoon."

A burn came across his cheeks. "Oh?"

"My monthly started the second day. My ex's entrance exam for law school was reschedule, so we cut it short." Their gazes met, her irises glittering. "And you weren't there." Her eyelids fluttered and she cleared her throat. "It helps that I'm with a man who won't tire of my tenacity."

That wasn't a word he knew, but he figured it out from the context. It was strange that anyone would be put off by Y/N's strength of character. Her courage had been what had saved him on the subway. He'd found it odd, at first. He'd met so few people with any hint of it. Hoyt had shown his fortitude by yelling. Randall had talked him into shitty jobs and lied.

Didn't she know her strength supported his own? That her confidence, both in him and herself, made it easier for him to function? Lent him an inkling of what it was like to matter?

He palmed her side, took her hand in his, and leaned forward to whisper, "If you close your eyes, you can pretend we're alone." Flights of fancy were harder for her, he knew. He was pleased when she acquiesced. Kissed her browbone and pushed the bridge of his nose to it. Humming softly, he did his best to imitate one of their favorite songs. He didn't lead her in a dance, but a gentle sway from side to side.

Chest on the verge of bursting, he longed to accurately convey the emotions rushing through his core. Such positive experiences still felt new. He chose to use the phrases he would want bestowed upon himself. "I love you because of your...tenacity." Shrugging, he pressed his lips together. "You were always so nice to me. I think you're the best thing I've ever seen. I don't want you to change, Y/N."

The delicate caress of her fingertips on his neck made him shiver. "Should I nag you to quit smoking when I'm ninety? And you're pushing me around Gotham in my wheelchair?"

"Yes," he laughed, nodding swiftly at the idea of them being together for fifty years. That would be heaven. "And that I need new socks." He smoothed his hand down her back until she was flush against him. "And to take my medication." Palming her hip, he grinned down at her. "And to make love, if you still want me then."

She giggled, fisting the front of his jacket. "Definitely." On her tiptoes, her lips seized his. "I'll never stop wanting you." Groaning, he grabbed her face and kissed her fiercely, knowing he'd lose himself in her as soon as they returned to their room.

~~~~~

Van McCoy - The Hustle

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve @howdylilflower @sweet-nothings04 @stephieraptorr @rommies @fallenstarsabyss @gruffle1 @octopus-plasma @tsukiakarinobara @arthur-flecks-lovely-smile @another-day-in-chuckletown @hhandley80 @jokerownsmysoul @64-crayon

#arthur fleck #arthur fleck fanfic #arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck x female reader #arthur fleck x ofc #joker 2019 #watchwhathappens

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rimurutempest · 4 years

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i have a very loose theory that peter quint was, if not possessed, haunted throughout the scenes we see him growing more possessive of rebecca.

i don't know that he was being influenced by someone in the house the same way he influenced/possessed miles or rebecca, so much as he was being haunted by the spectre of his parents, esp his father, much like dani was haunted by edmund, but of course unique to his own trauma.

we know with certainty he was being manipulated by them, that he'd been used and abused as a child as well, but i think it went beyond them blackmailing him about the money. i think it affected his whole life in varying ways and to varying degrees.

when he reached out to stop rebecca from leaving to check on the kids, i think that was his father haunting him. when he watched rebecca taste the batter in the kitchen, and later berated her for it, i think that was his father - or both parents - haunting him.

dani and peter's hauntings remind me of hugh crain's haunting by olivia in hill house. the olivia hugh saw wasn't the olivia in the house, it was an olivia of his own making - arguably the true olivia, considering how the living woman was changed and what her ghost became, considering how truly he knew his beloved wife. he had preserved her within himself.

dani however, was haunted by her guilt. her guilt just happened to be edmund, in the moment he'd hurt him most, the moment she'd lost him so suddenly and traumatically.

peter was haunted by the torment his parents had put him through, and the looming control they still had over him, even long after he'd thought he was free of them.

now, im not trying to excuse peter's actions. he hurt rebecca, he wanted her to hurt for her perceived slight. i just think who he really was at his core, the real peter quint, wasn't like his parents. he was a desperate man who loved and respected rebecca deeply, but he was so afraid and so damaged, he wound up killing her to keep her despite himself.

i think his character is a very interesting take on the way people cope(or fail to cope) with trauma and abuse, just like dani and hugh. i just think the ways these series explore so many different ways of haunting and being haunted are incredibly insightful and creative.

it's also possible peter was in fact being haunted by something inside the house leading up to his death - maybe even by himself. his behaviour when he is getting to know rebecca and falling in love with her is so starkly different to his abuse the night he lashes out at her for tasting the batter, and then on top of that, the next time they talk, he doesn't remember it.

i have seen someone point out that that sort of thing happens with abusers, and it does, but it's also just as possible he wasn't in control that night. it's similar enough to miles' disorientation and concern when peter does something awful through him and then miles resumes control. sometimes he doesn't even know it was peter, and seems confused. he mentions at least once that he doesn't remember saying/doing something when asked about it (because he didn't)

and...the scene in the old wing, with the fur coat...his expression when he watches rebecca in the mirror...i think that was one of the first instances of us watching someone (peter) who is "tucked away" in a memory. i think we never did see the way that scene happened the first time, with both peter and rebecca living through it together.

as for peter's actions after he's been killed? i think he was so damaged and weak willed that he became twisted and warped by death. he was changed by the experience of death, and by the agonizing repetition of drifting through memories.

of course, rebecca overcomes those experiences and chooses to defy peter and reject his plan. she chooses to protect flora, and to go through the pain of dying again for her. but then, rebecca was always a better, stronger person than peter. she was "too good" for him. (and that really was what scared him the most)

when viola enters dani and peter, along with the others, is freed, we see him realise what he's done, what he's been doing, what he was trying to do to miles, and he's mortified. his apology to miles is so full of grief and regret. he's truly, truly sorry.

because while he may have been doing those things as a result of outside factors, he still did them. he was still responsible for the pain he inflicted on others.

and he knows it.

EDIT:

I want to add these additional thoughts, because @sleepynegress brings up some good points, and has a really different perspective on this whole shebang.

Firstly, I want to highlight this post because it helped me understand where she was coming from, and she gives some very valuable insight into this series and characters.

Secondly, I am ultimately an idealist and an optimist, and that absolutely tints my view on things, so while this is my honest perspective, take it with a grain of salt please. Also I realise saying “I think you may be misinterpreting that” is...not the best response, and I apologise. I also freely admit that I may be the one who misinterpreted the statement in context.

[Image ID: Two screenshots of the comments of this post. The first includes a comment by @sleepynegress and the first portion of my response, and the second contains the rest of my response, broken into two comments. The comments are as follows:

“sleepynegress said: He was *absolutely* in control of his actions. If you pay attention it is literally said during one of his turns in memory, that while he had no choice as a child, as an adult he decided to be this way and *that* is why his particular hell is that confrontation as an adult. Peter literally says this as figures out why his drifts never go to a happy memory or worse places in childhood.

daiinu said: @sleepynegress I hear what you’re saying, and you may be right, but personally I think you may be misinterpreting that statement. I understood it as him saying he had no choice as a child, but he still allowed himself to be manipulated by his parents, still couldn’t break away from their control. it was his greatest regret that he went along with the heist. because it was the pressure from them that agitated him, made him so desperate, and placed him in viola’s path.

daiinu said: @sleepynegress It may be that I find myself sympathizing with him as a man who had similar childhood trauma, or as someone who was similarly desperate and possessive of someone in the past (though in my case, i was a teenager at the time), and I may just be hearing what I want to hear, I won’t dismiss that likelihood. but I also want to see the best in people, and I want to believe that there was no real evil at play in that house…just pain, desperation, and regret.” /End ID]

(I see that there are further replies, so I encourage others to check the notes of this post for more!)

#long post #thohh #the haunting of bly manor #bly manor spoilers #the haunting series #peter quint #rebecca jessel #the haunting of hill house #hugh crain #dani clayton #abuse mention #csa mention #mike flanagan #meta #sorry this got rambly lol #thobm #bmlb

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allywrites360 · 4 years

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Treasure Planet Analysis

I recently watched this video talking about some of the visual storytelling evident in this movie, and thought I’d rewatch it a little more closely, and add some of my own thoughts!!

So firstly, there are two really prominent examples of this type of storytelling with Jim (who’s going to be the main subject of this post; he is the protagonist after all, huh?). The first is his wardrobe itself, starting out made of entirely dark colours, and the second being the shadow between his eyes which is animated at key points during the movie.

At the outset of Treasure Planet, the shadow is shown constantly, for the first fifteen minutes at least before the slightest change. This symbolizes the shadow of pain that was left when Jim’s father abandoned him (oh, and spoilers for the movie in this, obviously).

The first minor change in this shadow is the moment when Jim’s passion is ignited in something for the first time in a long time; the prospect of travelling to Treasure Planet, which Jim hopes will allow him to prove he’s worth something to his mother (a doubt that’s created by him entirely), and have a real shot at something other than resigning himself to a rebel. This spark of hope lightens the shadow for the end of that scene. This might also be a good time to mention that the shadow could be symbolic for self doubt as well. This one may be not as clear to see because of the difference in lighting, but you’ll notice if you rewatch the movie carefully.

Jim then opens up a bit, starting to let go of his past hurt as he warms up to Silver, him acting as the new father figure in Jim’s life. This is shown not through the shadow, as Jim still hasn’t fully let go of his past, or fully bonded with Silver at this time, but through the change of his clothes into a much lighter, more natural tone.

Directly following the above scene id the first time the shadow makes its’ disappearance from Jim’s face; the moment when Silver takes Jim with him on a boat ride, a parallel to the way Jim’s father left him behind. Silver, however, waits for Jim to jump in, and proceeds to bond with him by teaching him sailing (is it called sailing?).

The black coat and shadow return, however, as Jim’s guilt casts it upon him at being blamed for a crew member’s death after being accused of failing to properly fasten his line. The coat here serves to act as an emotional barrier that Jim has used since the outset of the movie as he’s moved to sit alone on the edge of the ship.

The shadow disappears later in this scene, however, as Silver encourages him, and eases his guilt. He tells Jim that he believes there is greatness in him, and hopes that one day he can “catch some of the light that’s comin’ off [Jim] that day.” the day in question being when Jim finally achieves the greatness Silver knows him to be capable of. This introduces the light and greatness motif, which continues throughout the rest of this film, showing they go hand in hand, and once Jim is able to finally step fully into the light, he’ll be able to be free of his past, and reach his full potential.

The coat remains, however, until the next morning, when, with some encouragement, he leaves it behind. This may seem just a little gag to show Jim with morph, and it could be, but it could also demonstrate that change isn't instant, depending on how deeply you want to read in to individual scenes.

The shadow comes back once again when Jim’s trust in Silver is broken, and when he’s hurt by the older man, in this scene, it’s in the form of his lamenting to his pirates that he never cared for Jim, and was merely trying to keep him off their backs. This brings back the feeling of betrayal Jim felt when his father left, as the man he cared for and trusted portrayed the fact Jim meant nothing to him. Again, brief scene, and this was the best shot I could get.

The coat notably does not make a reappearance after this scene, nor for the rest of the movie, showing that despite the hurt Jim experiences here, he has grown as a character, and is more confident in himself than he was at the start. This change remains, and is not undone, even by Silver’s selfish actions.

The shadow finally leaves a few moments later, when Jim is entrusted the map by the captain. This gives him purpose, and a goal, which allows him to move past his hurt and do what’s right, which he knows will ultimately help others. This also shows his character has grown, as he moves past his pain to take on the responsibility without hesitation.

The shadow’s returns for the remainder of the film are nearly exclusively when he is reunited with Silver, or at the very least related to him in some way. All of this ties back to the light motif I mentioned earlier, as when Jim is given encouragement by his friends (captain, doctor, Ben, etc.), he is able to step up confidently, and take on responsibilities, reaching more to his full potential. This is contrasted by Silver’s presence, the man destroying that self esteem and bringing feelings from Jim’s past up despite personal growth.

Later in the film when Jim leaves his hideout on Treasure Planet with Ben, he quite literally steps into the light to help the others (in this scene, namely to retrieve the map from the Legacy to stop Silver from reaching the treasure and harming his friends). This shows that Jim’s selfless nature will eventually be his greatest strength (and already prominently is), and will be the thing to lead him to ‘greatness’.

When the shadow is missing, in scenes such as this, Jim’s face also seems to be overall more relaxed; brow less furrowed as he lets go of the past, and stops the aspects of the shadow (such as self-doubt) that he had been casting himself.

Jim’s gun flying away during the fight scene on the ship is also symbolic of his growth; his freedom moving just beyond his grasp (as he’s dragged down by memories through Silver), but him finding a way to keep fighting and continue triumphing anyway (as shown through the inconsistent shadow).

Silver’s influence on Jim (at the moment negative, as it is directly tied to the visual element of the inclusion of the shadow), is shown vividly through the scene where Silver’s pirates restrain Jim and take the map to Treasure Planet. The shadow only appears when Jim glares at Silver, but lightens when he’s focusing on doing what’s right (fighting the pirates) rather than his hurt.

Jim assertively telling Silver that if he wants the map, he has to take him along also serves his character growth really well. He's standing firm in his own decisions, despite losing the approval of his father figure, finally becoming his own person outside of others’ expectations or notions of him, and making these decisions based on what’s right, rather than simply rebellion.

The light from the doorway to the treasure gently lightens the shadow, symbolizing Jim's belief that his pain will be dissipated by gaining the treasure, and that he will gain his mother’s pride (which was already present) as well. This is a falsehood that Silver must face as well, both accepting that the treasure was meaningless overall, and would not give them what they wanted.

This recognition is clear to the audience well before it is to the characters, which is achieved subconsciously through the scene where, while all of the pirates are gazing towards the treasure, Jim looks back at Ben and morph, his friends meaning more than the treasure he’d searched for.

The next piece of symbolism is my personal favourite from the film; Jim falling while they are with the treasure. He works to pull himself back up, but needs that final pull from someone who cares about him (Silver). This symbolizes Jim trying to move past his father’s abandonment, and step into the person he’s grown to become. But he can't do it on his own, to fully make the leap, he needs the support of a father like figure, who in this case, is Silver, choosing Jim’s life over the treasure.

The shadow, which was likely present throughout and after this scene (there were few clear frames of his face, but let’s assume it was) darkens again at Jim’s realization that Silver may leave him, which comes when the captain comments about him being put to trial. This brings up strongly his final moments with his father; this may not seem like much now, as it is a very brief scene, but it strengthens the conclusion of his time with Silver, which we’ll get to in a minute.

The shadow then disappears once and for all as Jim relies on his strengths, both internal (selflessness), and external (knowledge of mechanics), to build a solar surfer to allow him to save his friends and their ship from being destroyed. This shows him finally reaching that confidence in himself and his abilities that Jim has sought after his entire journey, and, as a result of this, he is not negatively influenced when he interacts with Silver in the form of the pirate helping him with the construction of the solar surfer. He has, at this point, nearly completed his arc, and moved past his insecurities.

Jim then falls again, in a similar way to the previous time near the treasure, however this time, he is able to keep a level head, and manages to save himself. This symbolizes more than anything his character growth, able to rely on himself to help others. He’s finally achieved that light and greatness Silver told him was inside all along. This ability to stop his fall, and confidence as a whole, is due in no small part to Silver helping him earlier in the film. He needed someone who believed in him to push him to become the fullest version of himself, and recognize the greatness he was capable of.

The solar surfer was introduced at the onset of the film, when we were reintroduced to Jim as a teenager. The source of rebellion at the start is now a means he uses to help others, and once he’s safely back on the ship, he lets it go. He’s no longer using it as a means of escapism; his friends now mean more than that did, and he literally lets his past go for them without regret, as his developed character no long has to rely on those methods of rebelling.

This time, when Jim sees Silver preparing to leave, he’s confident enough in himself, and the connection they shared to let him go without memories of the past tearing him down, and visually, without the shadow returning. He lets Silver go, because his self worth no longer lies on the approval of a mentor, but rather on who he is.

Silver also notably turns to wave to Jim as he sails off, for the first time making himself, and this event, entirely separate from his father in Jim’s mind, showing the contrast between the means of support in these figures.

The light and greatness motif comes back in their goodbye, when Silver tells Jim he’s “glowing like a solar fire.”, showing the growth he’s seen in Jim, and, unlike the first time he said something similar to this, Jim genuinely believes him. Not just in a temporary comfort naive way; Jim believe that Silver is speaking the truth, and that confidence pushes him to take a shot at a future he never believed he could have.

This motif makes one final appearance at the conclusion of the film, when he is shown wearing all white, yet another lighter change in his wardrobe in this film. This demonstrates his freedom from any burdens of the past as he finally accepts and learns to love who he truly is, and take daring shots to reach his potential, the one his mother had seen in him since ten beginning. His character arc is now complete, and he can live happily ever after.

#dinsey #disney analysis #film analysis #film review #Disney movie review #treasure planet

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janeofcakes · 4 years

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KYFC..: Chapter 16

Thank you! Thank you, everyone for your support and kind words. It’s been a rough week for a variety of reasons and just when stress was the highest, I got another curve ball. Gotta love that, not to mention your very own Cakey Jane using baseball metaphors. Haha. Anyway, I’m hoping things get better and that you all like the chapter. It has also been a source of anxiety for me and I’m a little hesitant to post it. Thanks to MyBAB, who keeps me on my toes and sometimes adds to my stress.

Here we go. John is on his way back to Detroit to hand in his resignation. No good can come of this.

---

You didn’t have to cut me off. Make out like it never happened and that we were nothing and I don’t even need your love, but you treat me like a stranger and it feels so rough. --Gotye, Somebody That I Used to Know

Sherlock’s toes tap anxiously on the floor of his office. He can barely keep still, with no practice or even a team workout day, there is little to occupy his mind. Strategy, analysis and new plays usually fill his entire being on post-bout rest days. He certainly has enough work to do, but all he can think about is John. John, navigating the airport with Janine, getting onto the plane that will bring them home. Transporting her to the hospital after they land and settling her into their usual wing. He should soon be in the stadium where Sherlock can see him and make sure with his own eyes that John is well and truly safe. God, it will take everything in his power not to throw his arms around John or leap into the doctor’s arms and wrap his legs around the shorter man’s waist and never let go. Sherlock has spent a shameful amount of time thinking about such a scenario and has complete confidence in John’s ability to bear his weight.

He glances at the wall clock and eyes the red seconds hand as it drifts smoothly around the twelve, ticking off another minute. It is nearly 6:30 in the evening and Mike had sent a text when John left the hospital around 5. He should have been here long ago. The tapping of his toes increases as he continues to think through the day. He had texted John regularly in search of status updates and if he’s honest, because he simply wanted to hear from him, but had received precious few responses from the doctor and every one was brief. It might concern Sherlock if he did not know John more than had his hands full.

Even so, it does concern him. Why is John being so distant? Has he reconsidered what happened between them in Baltimore? Sherlock’s heart sinks as he plummets into the dark hole of doubt he keeps hidden deep inside his mind palace. John has had the time and space to regret it. He probably did go back to the Poe House for the scarf and their tour guide greeted him with it. She would flirt with him and he would respond in kind. Under the impression that John was interested, she had only come on to Sherlock so shamelessly to get John’s attention. A very odd strategy to Sherlock’s way of thinking.

He stops here to consider whether or not John was actually interested. He didn’t seem so inclined, but she was precisely his type, so it was possible. She clearly enjoyed sport. Anyone could see that from the scuffs on her shoes. Her deep love for baggy sweaters, something Sherlock has never understood, would draw them together as well. Add to that her bubbly personality and John couldn’t help but notice her a second time around. John probably went back for the scarf, wearing that absurd oatmeal-colored sweater he likes so much that does absolutely nothing for his figure, and she complimented him on it. They started talking and went to dinner, spent the evening together. Maybe John invited her back to the hotel for drinks and…

Sherlock stops again, closing his eyes and shaking his head like it will shake the thoughts free from his mind. He claws at the walls of doubt, trying to climb back up and escape, but the dirt crumbles in his fingers and he slides down again. He climbs desperately for what feels like hours and grasps at anything he can to pull himself free when he reaches the top. He opens his eyes to see he is still in his office, his laptop still open in front of him and the clock quietly ticking away more time. His gaze shifts around the room as if searching for something to settle on while he tries to think more rationally once again. Practically, John will go back to his own apartment, but there is no reason to believe he is out of danger. The lack of further attempts on his life means nothing.

Sherlock does not want him to leave regardless.

He buries his face in his hands and yawns wearily. Sherlock absolutely cannot think about that again. He sighs and opens his eyes, looking at the clock again. He couldn’t even begin to think about sleep the night before and never bothered going to his bedroom. The condo felt cold and lonely without John. Instead of doing anything productive, Sherlock sat in front of MST3K until he fell asleep on the couch somewhere in the middle of Catalina Caper. He awoke hours later, stiff and grumpy until he realized a text from John had been what woke him.

*In the cab heading for the airport. Things are looking good. Janine is not in pain.*

That was at 6:45am, since then there had only been infrequent updates. John would not even engage in conversation when they were on a god awful layover in Chicago. Honestly, why everything has to go through O’Hare is beyond all logic. Still, it is only a day of travel and should not worry Sherlock in the least, but it does. He looks at the clock again and stands to pace, stopping only when his phone suddenly rings. He grabs it quickly and raises it to his ear. The three seconds it takes him to glance at the caller ID and see it is not John slow into minutes, the very air around him crushing the hope right out of his chest.

“Greg,” he answers gruffly, resting one hand on the desk as he leans against it.

“John’s on his way to your office,” Greg replies without bothering to greet him. “He’s re…”

Sherlock doesn’t even let Greg finish as he abruptly ends the call when his door is pushed open without warning and John is suddenly standing before him.

“Sorry. Can I come in?” John’s voice is rough and uncertain.

“Of course,” comes an equally soft reply from Sherlock.

Sherlock watches him move deliberately toward the desk that separates them, only just keeping his own eyes from widening in surprise. John does not look tired from the day of travel and stress. He looks beyond tired. He looks wrecked. There is a stutter in his step and a look in his eyes that can only mean one thing: What transpired between them in Baltimore weighs heavily upon him. Sherlock’s heart sinks for the second time in mere minutes.

“We need to talk,” John avoids looking at him directly. His gaze darts around Sherlock’s desk almost frantically before settling on the stapler.

Those dreaded words. Sherlock said them to Victor once years ago.

“Yes,” Sherlock rasps, barely able to speak. He is glad Greg phoned him before John walked in so he could face the doctor from behind his desk. He could never make it through this conversation otherwise, his knees already threatening to buckle. He rests both hands on its surface and leans forward. “Greg mentioned it,” he says as evenly as he can.

“He told you?” John looks at him in shock. Trying to appear as normal as possible, Sherlock clears his throat and stands up straight to face him fully.

“He said you were on your way to my office,” Sherlock answers, frustrated that his voice is not his own. Wobbling at the most inopportune time imaginable when he would rather it be steady and reveal nothing. Sherlock takes a breath and tries to use the frustration to his own advantage, trying to compose himself for John’s next words. Trying and failing.

“Oh. Right,” John bites his lower lip and clearly steels himself. Every part of his body says regret. Sherlock closes his eyes slowly. He does not even try to stop himself from doing it, from showing his own emotions. He is too unguarded around John, too comfortable. He never should have let it get to this point or any point. Sentiment. He is such a fool.

“I’ve resigned,” John’s voice is barely above a whisper.

“What?” Sherlock wheezes, his eyes snapping open wide in shock.

“It’s for the best,” John states firmly, looking directly into his unabashed stare.

“No,” Sherlock’s voice sounds strange even to his own ears. He blinks as if trying to focus and closes his mouth with a pop. He feels like he is going to wretch. Staggering backwards, he nearly trips over his chair, but catches himself on the armrests and pushes himself back up. John’s hands reach out instinctively to stop his fall, but stop when he rights himself. They look at one another for a moment with searching, uncertain eyes.

What is going on?

But John doesn’t answer this time. Instead, his blue eyes turn to ice.

“You just have to trust me,” his voice hardens with his eyes.

“You can’t leave,” Sherlock’s words are coming faster and he doesn’t try to slow them down. He doesn’t care that it lays all his cards on the table or that his body language shows every bit of how he is falling apart.

“I’ll do what I want, Sherlock,” John nearly hisses, slamming his hands flat on the desk in anger. A plain, wooden pen holder falls to the floor and pencils roll under the desk.

“No,” Sherlock insists, tone bordering on desperation. He must stay calm. He cannot let his panic or frustration get the better of him. John is not going to listen if he flies into some kind of crazed, emotional outburst. Sherlock squares his shoulders and takes another deep breath. “You are an excellent physician. The team needs you. I know you haven’t been here long, but you have done so much. All the ladies trust you implicitly. And, frankly, so do I.”

He almost flinches. He sees something in John’s eyes, a glimmer of happiness that says what words cannot. When something means so much there is nothing to say. It fades right before his eyes. John’s shoulders fall as if under a crushing weight and Sherlock’s mind is awash with thoughts and feelings.

I trust you. I need you. I don’t let anyone in, not like this, but you opened the gates as if you always had the key. What happened, John? Tell me, please.

“John, I…” he can’t say it. He can’t risk it.

“Sherlock, I can’t. I just can’t,” John sighs, shaking his head. “I have to go. I’m sorry.”

“No, wait,” he rushes around the desk, but stops abruptly before reaching John, trying to gather himself. He must stay in control. He casts his gaze sidelong and curses his own feelings before looking back at John. “However you feel about me, about...what happened between us, don’t let it hurt the team. Please, John.”

He tries to keep his voice even, but it shakes slightly on the last two words. John stares at him with a startled expression on his face. Sherlock’s sturdy posture wavers as he watches John.

“How I feel about you,” John repeats in dismay, but goes quiet before saying more. He presses his lips into a thin line, affecting a grim countenance and shaking his head. “I have resigned. I’ve told Greg and now you. I’ll tell Mrs. Hudson tomorrow, put it in writing tonight. It’s done.”

Sherlock’s mouth opens, but no words come out. He takes a sharp breath, his eyes on John. How can he make him stay?

“I’ll start cleaning out my office after I speak with Martha,” John continues and then sighs heavily. He touches his own temples in a pained gesture that makes him look more exhausted than when he walked in. “I’m going back to my place tonight. I’ll get my things out of your flat tomorrow evening. I’ll ring you, so you can leave while I’m there.”

“John, no!” Sherlock truly is desperate now and doesn’t give a shit about hiding it or anything else. Fuck staying in control. God, how has everything gone so terribly wrong so quickly? “In Baltimore, what we did, what happened. We can forget it. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t have to mean anything,” he pleads with the man in front of him. If John wants him to, he can lock away all those memories and never touch them again. He has done it before. It will rip him apart this time, but he can do it. They can go back to being friends like before and maybe John would stay in the condo. They could be roommates, just roommates.

“It doesn’t mean anything,” John bites out the words vehemently.

Sherlock can’t stop a quick gasp and silence settles in around them. He can feel his face starting to crumble, his heart starting to fall apart, but just manages to hold his composure so he reveals nothing. All he allows is a mighty crease of his brow and the twitch of an eye. They are not together. They were never together, never a couple. His heart should not be shattered, but it is. It should not feel like his life is ending. John had warned him about this exact scenario. He said he could not love anyone romantically and, even if he could, why would he give his heart away after so little time had passed? He isn’t a complete idiot like Sherlock.

“Sherlock,” the name whispered between them catches his attention, even when he would rather look anywhere but at the man before him.

Sherlock’s grey eyes, filling with tears he will have to blink back, shoot straight to John’s face. The doctor is clearly beside himself, but trying to hide how undone he is. Somewhere in the background of his mind Sherlock knows that does not make any sense. The evidence does not fit the situation. John should be emotionless or even angry about Sherlock’s display, not anguished.

“Sherlock, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. Of course it means something. It means…” he shuts his mouth and swallows hard. “It’s Moriarty. He wants to win it all and he’ll do whatever he has to.”

“What?” Sherlock squints in confusion at this sudden outburst of seemingly unrelated information.

“You are right, Sherlock,” he tells him emphatically, stepping forward and placing his hands on the coach’s shoulders. “Keep looking for evidence and watch out for...others.”

“Others?” Sherlock shakes his head slowly. This is not at all what he expected, not by a long shot. He finds his mind shifting from his own panic and sadness toward this new mystery. Part of him tries to stop it, knowing he should stay focused on John, but he cannot. John’s words begin running through his mind over and over again, trying to piece it all together and it takes only seconds for it to fall into place. Something happened while John was in Baltimore alone. It scared him. Moriarty got to him.

“What did he do?” Sherlock hisses.

The words are out before Sherlock even has the chance to think. His voice is quiet and deadly serious, demanding an answer, but John continues as though he did not hear him.

“It’s Janine. She…” John is warring with himself and if Sherlock was not so distracted with his own thoughts, he would already know exactly what John is trying so hard not to tell him. “Watch everyone! Don’t trust anyone,” John insists again. Suddenly his hands are off Sherlock’s shoulders and he is heading for the door. Sherlock cannot process what just happened or what John said and didn’t say because John is leaving and he can’t. He can’t!

“John, don’t go! Don’t go!” Sherlock lunges forward and wraps his fingers around John’s wrist, holding it with unrelenting strength. “Please, I can’t do it on my own.”

“You’ll be fine, Sherlock,” John says into the space between them, refusing to meet his eyes.

“Yes. Fine, but I don’t want to be fine. I don’t want to be anywhere without you,” Sherlock’s words are coming fast, faster than he can think and he has to think faster. John can’t go. He can’t let him go.

“I need you,” Sherlock whispers, unshed tears obvious in his voice.

Sherlock does not know if he said that out loud or in his head. He doesn’t care, doesn’t care what he says or reveals. John has to stay. He can’t lose John.

“I love you! I love you,” he blurts in a ragged tone.

They stare at one another. Sherlock is breathing hard, chest heaving. He does not take his eyes off John, his shoulders bobbing up and down less and less as his breathing returns to normal. His mind finally catches up with his traitorous panic and instantly rebukes. Idiot! But he ignores it and repeats quietly.

“I love you,” his voice is clearer now. Calmer and more collected as his overactive mind comes to rest. He is stating the truth and has never felt more free.

***

“You...you...you can’t,” John’s voice rasps, his eyes wide in shock and disbelief. He shifts his weight and furrows his brow, a little frown of lines appearing between his eyebrows. Pressing his lips together, he studies Sherlock intently, searching his eyes. “What? You, what? No. No, Sherlock, just no.”

John shakes his head harder with every word that leaves his lips. He tries taking a step toward the door, but the long fingers already wrapped around his wrist tighten. He looks down at those fingers and then back to the coach, seeing a determination that tries to hide pain.

Fuck. Fuck!

He’s hurting Sherlock. He hadn’t meant those words to sound the way they did. He’s fucking up the whole thing.

“That’s not what I meant,” he begins, but flails. “You… You haven’t known me five minutes. These things take time, feelings take time to form, don’t they? Sherlock, you don’t know me,” he pleads.

“I have not known you long, true,” Sherlock licks his lips, looking at John like he is a spooked deer, “but can we agree that I know you well?”

John does not answer, too shocked to speak, but he nods in affirmation.

“Good. That’s good,” Sherlock inches closer.

John keeps his gaze on those grey eyes. He could get lost in them, swim in them for hours. He will never tire of them, or of this man. It is all too much and not something his brain is used to handling. His feelings for Sherlock are so strong and he has no idea how to feel about that or what to call them. John does not feel this way about people. It is not that he doesn’t care, he just…

‘I do believe he cares for you.’

“Is there anything in particular that you are hiding from me?” Sherlock asks over Moriarty’s voice in John’s mind. His eyes focus in again.

“Well,” John swallows, “no. I mean, apart from the not falling in love thing and I told you about that. ’Course I would have thought that’d send anyone running.”

“It hasn’t,” Sherlock’s voice is soft, but steady and his grip loosens slightly. He takes another small step closer.

“So I see,” John replies slowly, full of hesitation.

They stare at one another for a long time, each one willing the other to understand what words cannot say. Finally, Sherlock breaks the silence.

“I know I’m not qualified to explain this. Molly has always been far better at it than I,” Sherlock puffs out a breath, a wrinkle of concentration appearing between his eyebrows. John bites his lip and watches the man search for the right words, marveling at how adorable he is and trying not to show it. “She tells me to follow my heart. It’s not a precise science.”

Sherlock stops suddenly, his face full of doubt.

“Look, what I said, it doesn’t have to mean anything. We can forget it,” Sherlock shakes his head, trying for nonchalance and failing.

“No,” John interrupts, taking his own step toward the taller man. They are very close now. He watches Sherlock with a steady gaze, finally feeling the befuddlement lift. It is like stepping from a thick fog and he can finally see the man more clearly. “We can’t. It means too much. It means...everything.”

Sherlock blinks his eyes wide. They sparkle and shine, and John cannot take his own off of them. He wants this man like nothing else in his life. It is not just sexual desire and is not like caring for a friend. John most certainly does care, but it is so much more than that. It is confusing. He still has no idea what to call these feelings or how to handle them. What should he do? What is he supposed to think? It is completely and utterly baffling.

John swallows and lets his lips part, his gaze locked on Sherlock’s face. It falls quickly to the soft, full lips that John felt against his own only two nights ago. They dropped kisses on his neck and body, hot and wanting. He is sure his eyes must be dilated, his face and neck flushing. John shuffles closer and takes Sherlock’s free hand in his own. He can feel Sherlock’s breath on his face, warm and welcoming. John wets his lips and tilts up on his toes as Sherlock bends his neck down and their lips meet.

The kiss is gentle and sweet. John still does not know what this baffling feeling is, but he tries to put every ounce of it into this perfect kiss. It flows through every part of his body and into Sherlock and back. This kiss, it has to be perfect...because it has to be their last.

“I’m sorry,” John pulls away. “I can’t. I can’t stay. I can’t do this.”

“John,” Sherlock’s eyes snap open, his face rife with despair.

“I can’t,“ he pushes Sherlock away with enough force to knock him back two steps. John feels it in his chest suddenly and winces. The pain of his heart clenching and then trying to defenestrate from his body through any window it can find only to thunk into his chest cavity and fall lifeless and defeated. Resisting the urge to clutch at the nearly unbearable pain, John shakes his head and tries to concentrate. He avoids Sherlock’s eyes.

“I don’t know what it means, Sherlock,” he declares in frustration, not even aware of what he is saying until his mind catches up. “I don’t understand it or how I feel about it, but it’s all… It’s exactly why I have to go.”

“To protect me,” Sherlock ventures as if he already knows exactly what Moriarty said to John and only needs confirmation.

“Yes. No!” John looks at him in growing panic. He can’t say anymore, shouldn’t say anymore. He risks Sherlock’s life with every word. He needs to leave. He never should have come. He should have gone to his flat and phoned Sherlock to tell him all this.

John turns for the door, but Sherlock grabs hold of his arm and yanks him backwards. John twists to free himself, but just gives the lanky-armed bastard more to lock claws on.

“Let me go,” John glares at Sherlock’s hand and then meets his gaze again. He repeats himself in a low, dark voice. “Let. Me. Go.”

Sherlock does not obey the command and the part of his brain works through every strategy, every bout, seems to have kicked into overdrive.

“You’re afraid of Moriarty,” Sherlock is saying now and goddammit, John has already killed him.

“No, Sherlock! Let go,” John lurches forward, taking the coach with him. He has wrapped his long limbs around John like a snake and any attempt to escape results in tightening coils.

John lurches again and they slam against the door. Rolling them against the wall, John pins Sherlock with his body and tries to wiggle free. When he succeeds in getting an arm out, Sherlock pushes off the wall and sends them tumbling to the floor. John comes down with a crack, the coach atop his body. Sherlock takes advantage of the split-second pause John needs to get his bearings, quickly straddling his hips and pushing his wrists to the floor with his hands. Though the two men are very similar in strength, the force of his weight and the fulcrum created by his height play in Sherlock’s favor.

“Sherlock, get the fuck off of me!” John shouts, thrashing this way and that.

“Talk to me, John! Tell me what’s wrong,” Sherlock insists, struggling to hold him still. “Please don’t shut me out.”

“Get off!” John huffs angrily.

“We can do this together,” Sherlock implores.

“No!” John shouts.

“Tell me why you’re doing this because this isn’t you,” Sherlock is begging now and it is tearing at John’s heart.

“It’s too dangerous!” John blurts, already hating himself. He wrenches his arms from Sherlock’s grip and twists his body into a roll. Unfortunately, the bastard just uses the momentum to roll John onto his back again. He looks down at the doctor and grumbles in frustration. John can feel it rumble through his chest. He tries to continue the struggle, but his heart is severed and bleeding out. John is exhausted. He wants to stay with Sherlock forever, but protecting him means leaving. He squeezes his eyes shut and doesn’t try to stop the moisture in them from slipping out.

“Tell me, John. Please,” Sherlock’s voice is low and gentle. It pleads and also demands. It is that voice that makes John stop trying to free himself. That soothing voice coupled with gentle hands tracing a path down his chest.

He raises his gaze to look at Sherlock, beautiful and panting. John’s hands come to rest on Sherlock’s thighs and another tear slips from his eye. He lets his body relax as he loses himself in those eyes, swirling and deep. Greens and blues merging with grey, all focused on John. They can see into John’s mind and pull free the worry and fear.

John tilts his head to the left and looks at Sherlock thoughtfully. Warm fingers cup his cheek, a thumb wiping away a tear that slowly trickles down. John closes his eyes again and leans into the touch. He can still see Sherlock’s face in his mind’s eye, smiling like he has a secret only the two of them know. His lips part as he bends forward to whisper in John’s ear:

“He threatened you...forcing you to resign...we’ll do it together...you’re not alone...never alone…”

“Sherlock,” John gasps, opening his eyes and seeing that the two of them are now side by side facing one another on the floor. When the hell did that happen? His eyes were only closed for a moment. Sherlock is looking at him, searching. Had he asked a question? And then it hits John with the force of a truck.

Alone.

John had felt it deep down in his bones when Bill died, the crushing sense of being truly alone. It took a long time, but he had moved on. At least, he thought he had worked through it and left those feelings behind. Now John can see that he only hid it from himself. Somehow, over the years, especially since his parents died, he convinced himself that alone was better. Alone is what I have. Alone protects me. No real relationships, no love, or close friends. Nothing to tie him to anyone and then coming here turned his life upside down. He likes the skaters, genuinely. And Greg and Martha and Sherlock. He likes Sherlock? No, it’s more. So much more and something he can’t even begin to understand.

“He threatened you,” John finally says in a soft, breathless tone. He meets Sherlock’s eyes and cups the man’s face with both hands. “He will kill you. If I stay, if I tell you anything about why I’m leaving, if I do anything but resign and go, he’ll kill you. You’re too important to me, Sherlock. You’re...I…”

John trails off as his voice gives out. He has no idea what to say anyway, and no idea what he even wants to say. He wants Sherlock to know, to understand how he feels, but he is not sure himself. What he does know is that he has put Sherlock in grave danger. He has killed him with his words.

“God, what have I done?” John mumbles as he releases Sherlock’s face and covers his own eyes.

“He’s lying,” Sherlock’s voice books no argument.

“What?” utter confusion showing on John’s expressive face as he uncovers it.

“He’s not going to hurt me,” Sherlock sits up and offers his hand to John, who takes it and pulls up to sit with him. “If I was a target, he would have made it known by now.”

“And you’re willing to risk your life on the strength of that?” John asks incredulously.

“Yes,” Sherlock answers simply. “He wants me to witness his victory. To feel the defeat knowing I have done everything possible to stop him and failed. That is what Moriarty wants.”

He leans close to John and covers his hand where it rests on the floor between them.

“He won’t hurt me,” he smiles softly at John.

“I wish I could believe that,” John says, resigned.

“It’s true, John. I’d stake my life on it,” Sherlock promises.

“You are,” John snaps louder. Incredulous disbelief racks his body, making it restless and twitchy. He wants to put his hands on Sherlock’s shoulders or around his arms, but sort of gestures aimlessly between the two of them instead. “I can’t believe you’re being so blase about this. We’re talking about your life!”

“And Molly’s and yours,” Sherlock finishes, watching John with razor sharp eyes. With this one look Sherlock makes it clear just how seriously he takes it. “And every skater on our track. You help keep us all safe and alive when we are all at risk. Think, John, think!”

He grasps John’s arms hard, his eyes intense and completely focused on the doctor. John knows exactly what Sherlock is going to say and it is a sound argument. Can he really step away from the team knowing the danger they are in?

“Molly would be dead without you! No one else would have seen what you did in time to save her. That’s why Moriarty wants you to walk away,” Sherlock sounds so sure.

A thought unbidden pops into John’s mind and it sets every gear turning in the opposite direction. How likely is Moriarty to honor their agreement? Rock City and its coach with no doctor…not likely.

“You are a complication, John. An unknown variable. He will tell you whatever he needs to to make you go. He. Is. Lying,” Sherlock pauses to really look at John and, for the first time since Baltimore, John opens himself to the man - mind, body and soul. Sherlock’s mouth falls open at the sudden contrast and John almost wants to giggle, in spite of himself. The quippy coach, brilliant and ever unruffled in post-bout interviews, is speechless. John wants to kiss him. He wants to pull him to his body and kiss those ridiculous cheekbones, his forehead and nose, cheeks and eyelids. God, this man. John has no idea how to understand the depth of his feeling for this man.

“You’re right,” John nearly gasps, the air heavy with emotion. He swallows hard. Swallows down the desire to forget it all and just be with Sherlock. “Whether you’re on the list or not, he’ll keep to his plan. My leaving just increases the danger.”

John nods as he speaks, more to himself, but agreeing with Sherlock nonetheless.

“Exactly,” Sherlock says sensibly. His expression is a bit smug and smacks of ‘There is no other way to view it, John’.

This time the doctor almost does smile, but holds it at bay. There is one more very important thing he must say to the infuriating man before him. John reaches for him quickly, cupping his face in between his hands. Sherlock’s cheeks are warm and soft and perfect on John’s palms. His thumb strokes a cheekbone of its own volition. John looks deeply into those grey eyes. Flecks of green and blue sparkle back, telling him everything, every secret of a man normally so guarded.

“So help me, Sherlock, if you are wrong, I don’t know what…” John’s voice hitches and the words are gone. His tone was a raspy whisper said all in a rush and he thought he could make it through, but welling emotion got the better of him. He swallows hard and tries again.

“I don’t know what I would do,” he drops his head.

It’s true. It may be ridiculous, but it’s true. John has never needed anyone, not since Bill and his parents were gone, and that was fine. He built up his walls and did his job, lived his life and then in walked Sherlock Holmes and it was just....fate.

Words suddenly fill John’s mind, reverberating off the walls of his skull. A song he has not heard in years. Not since he watched a certain movie with his mother. It was the last one they saw together.

I’ve grown accustomed to his face. He almost makes the day begin.

How many times has he felt that way as he walked into Sherlock’s kitchen to see him standing by the stove, making those special eggs?

“Oh god, Sherlock,” he breathes, a tear streaking down his cheek. “I want you in my life. I want you forev…”

John bites his lip. Keeps in the word.

Sherlock watches him with soft and shining eyes. He sighs and tilts his head in John’s hands as he closes the gap between them. Pressing a soft kiss to his lips, Sherlock breathes against John’s mouth and then tips his chin down to rest their foreheads together.

“I will always be by your side, John. Always,” he promises and for the first time in a long time, John believes those words wholeheartedly.

---

Yay!! Yay, Jane, you have taken mercy upon us! John tried, he did, but lying to Sherlock was too much for him AND he’s that much closer to seeing his true feelings for Sherlock. How great is the moment when Sherlock just blurts it out? “I love you!” and he doesn’t try to take it back. He just lets it be. John’s reaction is the greatest too. “You...you can’t. You haven’t known me five minutes.” Hahaha! I love it! I mean, I’m clearly biased so please let me know what you think. I don’t want to beg, but I’m not above it and it has been a bad week. Any encouragement is more than welcome and VERY appreciated. You all mean so much to me. I’m going to be honest. The next couple weeks could be hard and I may not get the next two chapters out on Sundays, but I’ll do my best. Please be with me in spirit. I will definitely be with you. Until next time, my friends. I love you. Jane

@zentris @221b-carefulwhatyouwishfor @tooolforthissh--stuff @shana-movershaker @melmey-fanfics @louise175dk @technicallywiseoncns @underestimatemethatwillbefun @jhamishw @weirdlittlegoofball @superwholockpotterincamelot @superwholocklmt @ladidragonuniverse @kittenmadnessandtea @srebrnafh @welcometomyharddrive @annecumberbatch @kingdomofbrokenhearts @philliphooper @whodwantmeasaflatmate @gloriascott93 @vvaticancameoss @cow-mow @echosilverwolf @spazzz32 @absentmindedsstuff @swissmissing @shuukichan @maeliandmyself @wtgilsa @red-pen-revolution @britishaccentfan @dischorde @plasticstrawsmuggler @youknowyougrow @one-thousand-splendid-stars @irina12maria

#Sherlock Holmes #Sherlock #sherlockholmes #sherlock loves john #sherlock au #sherlock fanfic #john watson #johnwatson #johnlock #Johnlock fanfic #johnlock au #sherlock roller derby

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stories-by-rie · 5 years

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8 44BCE

All I remembered from travelling back in time was the feeling of falling in my sleep. As I had woken up, I found myself in my everyday street clothes in a time period that looked exactly as I had always imagined the ancient Roman Empire to be. And I guess my last doubts were cleared as I was brought before Caesar himself.

Surprisingly, he was very open-minded about the idea that I might come from the future and at the beginning, he just wanted me to be around, didn't ask a single question about it really. He sometimes wanted to know my opinion on his decisions, so I tried to answer as honest as possible, regardless of the possible outcome.

I didn't know when exactly I landed. I only knew that Gaius Julius Caesar somehow grew fond of me by the time. Undoubtedly I admired him very much too. Even though I always favoured Greek mythology more than the history of the Roman Empire, I couldn't deny that I knew a great deal about this time period.

I guess, I just could have answered easily, when he asked me the question one day. The question, I dreaded to hear since the very first day that I had arrived.

'How do I die?', Caesar asked.

I wasn't sure if I should answer. His cold eyes pierced through mine.

'I know I might have overstepped by - more or less - making myself the dictator. I know it might happen soon.'

My hand palms were sweaty. I tried to hide them behind my back.

'You will die in the Ides of March', I answered.

But I didn't know how to tell him the year. I couldn't say 44 BCE. Right? If I knew how old he was today, I could tell him.

'Which year?', he demanded to know.

Damn. Quickly I tried the maths. He was born in 100 BCE and died 44 BCE.

'When you're 56.' I thought I saw him gulp.

'Well, I would have believed you if you told me that I died this year. But that means that I still have one year left.'

Slowly he walked two steps away from me. Then, he turned around.

'I have changed much. I have improved much. People don't like change. They will hate me and love me equally. But most of all they will try to destroy my accomplishments. I do know of my sister Iulia. She desperately wants her son to follow into my footsteps. But he is a brat. I despise him. The res publica wouldn't be safe in his hands. In fact, there is only one person I trust.'

He didn't tell me anything new. He made an artistic pause, staring at me. Probably he wanted to hear the name from me. He loved it when I managed to finish his sentences correctly.

'Octavian.'

To my surprise, he looked totally baffled.

'I don't know an Octavian', he then spoke quietly.

'OH! How brilliant!', he laughed, as a thought seemed to cross his mind.

'Genius... Genius...' Caesar walked towards me and looked at me with happiness.

'How old are you now, my dear Jonathon?'

'18.'

'A great age. A real man. A bit late, of course, to learn all one needs. But with your infinite knowledge, I don't doubt it will be hard at all.'

I was irritated completely now. I couldn't follow the man before me. A man I knew so perfectly from my history books.

'I will change my last will. I will make Octavian my heir. I will make sure, that he will become my successor', he winked at me. But I didn't understand.

'I- I fear I don't understand you.'

'I will make you my son. You shall be named after me. Gaius Iulius Caesar Octavianus. And you will be my heir.'

I couldn't breathe. He wanted me to be Octavian?

Please, no.

I could barely listen to what followed.

'My niece always wanted a son. I will let them add you simply to her family tree. No-one will notice. Congratulations. You have a sister now. Octaviana. I will take you into the pontifices. I will let them add you to the war in Spain. I will let it appear as if you have always existed. No-one heard of Atia anyway, my niece. The whole world will believe it. Just go with your friends Agrippa and Rufus to Apollonia. I will arrange everything.'

I couldn't believe what I heard. Maybe this was a side-effect of the time travelling. I still hadn't figured out how I did that. Or how I could return to 2018.

On the other hand, I knew all about Octavian. Augustus. The great politician. The cruel politician. This couldn't be true. There must've been a mistake. That couldn't be me.

And then, another bomb hit me.

Octavian was adopted in 44 BCE. At the age of 18. He left for Apollonia with his friends and received of Caesar's death in 44 BCE.

And Caesar was born at the 13th of July. Therefore he died at the age of 55.

Could I just tell him? Change my mind and tell him that I was wrong? Would that be a way to escape my fate? But how could the future change, if the great Augustus never existed? Though he certainly would never be great, if I, Jonathon, would have to be him.

But before I could say anything, Caesar was gone and I was staring at blank air.

Maybe I couldn't tell Caesar directly that he would die soon, but I knew what happened, so I still could tell him through others. Luckily, I ran into his wife, Calpurnia and a man.

'Uh! Oh, Calpurnia, dearest mother!', I yelled and she turned to me. I had a hard time calling her my mother and Caesar, CAESAR, my father, but if this should work, I had to play along.

'Octavian', she greeted me and smiled.

'I have some worries regarding the meeting tomorrow.'

'Yes, me too.'

Wow, this sounded promising.

'I fear the senate has evil thoughts. Many men seem to hold a grudge against our dictator perpetuus. Maybe he shouldn't go. The Ides of March seems to be a very fateful day for a meeting, don't you agree?'

Calpurnia looked at me worried and then nodded. Then she turned to the man beside her.

'What do you think, Spurinna?'

'I'll ask the birds. Just send your husband to me tomorrow', he answered kindly. Spurinna. Wasn't he the augur who told Caesar not to go to the senate tomorrow?

I knew as Octavian I was supposed to be in Apollonia. I didn't understand, how historians managed to believe that two thousand years later.

Maybe I could safe Caesar. Maybe I shouldn't. I didn't know what was the right thing to do. But I knew that I really got to know Caesar and I liked calling him a friend. I knew about his tyranny. I knew his madness as I saw it so often.

But most of all I feared the tyranny and madness I would succumb to if he died tomorrow.

I couldn't sleep. Why couldn't I just jump back to 2018? It's all I wanted.

But as the sun rose and touched the sky, I knew it was too late.

Early I hid in the senat building. I heard people talk. I didn't know if I stopped his death or if I made it possible. I didn't know if he would die today. I didn't know anything anymore.

I tried not to scream as I heard them yelling and screaming. Tears ran down my face.

Did I fail? It surely felt like it.

Then quiet.

I came out of my hiding. Caesar was lying on the ground. Clearly dead. I stumbled towards him and held his lifeless hand. Suddenly the last breath.

'Make... peace.'

And with those words I understood.

I wasn't punished. I wasn't gifted. Fate had decided that I, once Jonathon, now Gaius Iulius Caesar Octavianus and future Augustus, pater patriae, would bring peace, or at least something very close. I would have to rule. Fiercely. But only because I knew what would happen.

'Come, my boy. They will return very soon', a gentle voice spoke behind me. Hastily I hid my tears and turned to the man with a very proud face and a weird nose.

His eyes wandered to Caesar's corpse and then to me.

'There are hard times ahead of you, Octavian. I hope your father prepared you well.'

'He thought so, Cicero. But should I succeed, and I will, the res publica will be re-established.'

'A quick mind. You're still young. Let's hope it also is a clever one.'

I could see in his old eyes, how he grew fond of me. It was as if I could see his thoughts. How desperately he wanted to use me for his gains. For now, I would use him. And once he thought that he held me safe in his hand, he would be surprised by how clever I was.

He would die next year.

Telling a stranger, that she was your sister was quite difficult. But I knew that Octavia played an important role in history.

I would manage all of that.

I would manage the civil wars. I would get revenge for my father's death. I would expand Rome and I would bring peace. Most importantly that.

I would play my role in this play. That was the only mindset of how I could endure this.

Acta est fabula, plaudite!

~05.02.2018~

#writeblr #flashfiction #short story #ides of march #caesar #my wirting #amwriting #spilled ink #prose #rie's reblogs #i put this one into an original post #hope that's okay with y'all #1600 words #fantasy #time travel #happy ides of march!#thought it was a good day to reblog / repost #story by rie

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dramaworlduk · 5 years

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Drama recommendations!

Part 2!!

<-Part 1

11. The Legend Of The Blue Sea

There’s history, mythology, mystery, romance, and comedy- what more could you want?! Heo Joon-jae (Lee Min-ho) is the son of a rich businessman who becomes a handsome and clever con-man after his parents' divorce. Shim Cheong (Jun Ji-hyun) is a mermaid who becomes lost and runs into him. First only sticking by her for material gain, Joon-Jae slowly realises his feelings are a little stronger than that. Their tale is juxtaposed with the parallel story of their Joseon era incarnations, town head Kim Dam-ryeong and the mermaid Se-hwa. Cheong is absolutely adorable as she learns to adapt to human life, and strikes up friendships with some of the strangest people. Joon-Jae is a scumbag with a heart and a tragic past and it is very difficult not to love them both. The added element of mystery with a murderer on the loose and Cheong’s attempt to hide her identity make for a full and intriguing story that you won’t want to take your eyes off of.

Year: 2016

Where Can I Watch?: KissAsian

Episodes: 20, 1hr length

12. Pinocchio

Choi In-Ha (Park Shin-Hye) hiccups every time she lies. Choi Dal-Po’s (Lee Jong-Suk) life was ruined by the lies the media spread about his family. He is adopted by In-Ha’s family and they grow up together, battling back their feelings for each other and the cutthroat business of reporting which they’ve both found themselves pursuing. It explores the value and falldowns of honesty and how the media can be manipulated and faked. Friends->lovers plus lovely family bonds and the importance of empathy. Very good drama, emotive and charming, 100% recommend.

Year: 2014

Where Can I Watch?: Netflix

Episodes: 20, 1hr length

13. The Heirs

This ones a really good one if you’re starting off, as it’s not too heavy or complicated. Kim Tan (Lee Min-Ho), a wealthy heir to a large Korean conglomerate, and Cha Eun-Sang (Park Shin-Hye) meet in America when Eun-Sang goes to visit her sister. After a failed encounter, Kim Tan offers to let Eun-Sang stay with him before she goes back to Korea. Despite being engaged to Yoo Rachel (Kim Ji-won), a fellow heiress, Kim Tan soon falls in love with Eun-sang. When Eun-Sang returns to Korea, Kim Tan also returns. Tan’s ex best friend Choi Young-Do (Kim Woo-Bin) notices Tan’s softspot for the new girl and begins to pursue her too. It explores teenage trials and tribulations in the lives of the rich and the poor, as well as pressures from the adult world.

Year: 2013

Where Can I Watch?: Netflix

Episodes: 20, 1hr length

14. Hymn Of Death

This three-parter channels Titanic with its tragic love story and historical setting. You go into this knowing there will be heartbreak, but it still hurts so much!! It is based on the true story of the tragic romance between Joseon's first soprano Yun Sim-deok (Shin Hye-Sun) and a genius playwright Kim Woo-jin (Lee Jong-Suk). It is heartbreaking to see the two fall for eachother knowing they cannot be together for far too many reasons. It spans a number of years and their love remains strong throughout. The quotes in this from Woo-jin’s real journals are beautiful too and add to the real life story. A must watch, if not for the story, then for Shin Hye-Sun and Lee Jong-Suk’s acting which is fantastic throughout.

Year: 2018

Where Can I Watch?: Netflix

Episodes: 3, 1hr length

15. My Love From Another Star

Alien Do Min-Jun (Kim Soo-Hyun) whose time on earth is nearly up meets Famous actress Cheong Song-Yi (Jun Ji Hyun) as she moves in next-door to him. He finds himself entangled in Song-yi's crazy and unpredictable situations, and finds out that she looks like a young girl he fell in love with in the Joseon era. Song-Yi’s best friend Lee Hee-kyung (Park Hae-jin), is in love with her, but his older brother Lee Jae-kyung (Shin Sung-rok) has a dark secret and will get rid of anyone who finds out about it or gets in his way. This drama can be very intense at times wih the threat of Jae-kyung, but Song-Yi’s sweet, comedic personality serves for some very humourous moments too.

Year: 2014

Where Can I Watch?: Netflix

Episodes: 21, 1hr length

16. W: Two Worlds

Bad boy with a heart of gold?? Comic book world??? Violence and mystery?? Adorable, loyal sidekick?? Badass doctor who can travel between worlds?? LEE JONG SUK LOOKING HOT WITH A GUN?? W has it all. The premise is new and exciting, making for unpredictable plot twists and constant need for questions to be answered. W is a fictional bestselling webtoon in South Korea centering around the dramatic life of Kang Chul (Lee Jong-suk). Authored by Oh Seong-moo (Kim Eui-sung), somewhere along the line W became a living universe. The gap between the two worlds is crossed as Seong-moo's daughter, resident cardiothoracic surgeon Oh Yeon-joo (Han Hyo-joo) gets dragged into the webtoon world and is immediatel faced with saving Kang Chul’s life. Only, Kang Chul wasn’t meant to live. If you do one thing this year it should be to WATCH W. It’ll do you good, I promise.

Year: 2016

Where Can I Watch?: Netflix

Episodes: 16, 1hr length

17. While You Were Sleeping

A girl who sees the future in her dreams, and a seemingly unconnected new neighbour are brought together through a series of events. It is legal drama crossed with fantasy as Jung Jae-Chan (Lee Jong-suk) starts a new job at the prosecutor’s office despite his clumsy, goofy personality. Jae-Chan dreams about an accident which causes much grief and loss, and decides he must try to stop it, and in doing-so his connection with Nam Hong-Joo (Bae Suzy) is strengthened and their relationship blossoms. There are some great dynamics here, not only between Jae-Chan and Hong-Joo, but also with their friend Han Woo-Tak (Jung Hae-in), who begins to dream of the future too after his life is saved, and Choi Dam-Dong (Kim Won-hae) who is a funny but sweet father figure to Jae-Chan as he teaches him the ways of life as a prosecutor. Ruthless lawyer Lee Yu-Beom (Lee Sang-yeob)’s portayal is magnetic and captivating.

Year: 2017

Where Can I Watch?: KissAsian

Episodes: 32, 30min length

18. My ID Is Gangnam Beauty

Afraid of how her peers perceive her, Kang Mi-Rae (Im Soo-hyang) undergoes plastic surgery to stop worrying about her looks before she starts university. However, after a while at university people begin to label her as a ‘Gangnam plastic surgery monster’ as her appearance is a bit too obviously altered. Mi-rae struggles with her concerns of what people think about her, which has followed her around her whole life, in a stark contrast to Do Kyung-seok (Cha Eun-Woo), who does not care what others think. The general message of body positivity isn’t without its flaws, but it brings discussions of insecurity and societal standards to the forefront. The good messaging outweighs the flaws by far and there is also a fair bit of feminism going on, just keep track of Mi-rae’s T-shirt slogans! The relationship between Kyung-seok and Mi-rae is very sweet and shy, and Kyung-seok likes her regardless of what others think. Lighthearted but with an important message.

Year: 2018

Where Can I Watch?: Netflix

Episodes: 16, 1hr length

19. She Was Pretty

Kim Hye-Jin’s (Hwang Jung-eum) childhood friend contacts her years later wishing to reconnect. However, upon meeting Ji Sung-joon (Park Seo-joon) does not recognise her, expecting her to appear like her younger self. Kim Hye-jin was a beautiful girl from a rich family, but after her family's publishing company went bankrupt, she experienced hardships then lost her beauty too. Ji Sung-joon was a shy, unattractive boy, but grows up as a handsome and successful editor. Ashamed to meet her first love and ruin his perception of her, Hye-jin asks her attractive best friend, Min Ha-ri (Go Joon-hee), to act as her once, then make up an excuse to never see Sung-joon again. Things get complicated when Hye-jin is assigned to work at The Most magazine publishing office where Sung-joon is the deputy chief editor. He openly mistreats and belittles her for her clumsy nature, not knowing that she was his real childhood friend. Kim Shin-Hyuk () is the second lead in this and his performace is fantastic. The growth between Sung-joon and Hye-jin is definitely worth watching and messages about beauty resonate well.

Year: 2015

Where Can I Watch?: Netflix

Episodes: 16, 1hr length

20. Thirty But Seventeen

Although there are a fair few emotional moments, this show is still for the most part a light, heartwarming drama with little angst and struggle. Also, there are not really ny plausible second leads to confuse the romance storyline as Yoo Chan (Ahn Hyo-Seop) is Gong Woo-Jin’s (Yang Se-Jong) 19 year old nephew, and Kim Tae-Hyun has very little screen time. I feel this makes it a lot easier to connect to the main couple, who are ADORABLE. They are both still mentally 17, after Woo Seo-Ri (Shin Hye-Sun) was in a coma for 13 years, and Woo-Jin’s PTSD from the accident keeps him stuck on repeat. After waking from her coma, Seo-Ri returns to her old house, unaware that it is now under new ownership in the form of Woo-Jin’s family. There is still a lot of tropey goodness (living together!!), but the story and interactions feel fresh and unique, and the dynamic between Seo-Ri, Woo-Jin, Yoo Chan, and Jennifer (Ye Ji-Won) is enough to keep you watching as it’s so warm and pure. Not to mention the dog Paeng/Deok Gu!! I love them all so much and it’s just the sweetest!

Year: 2018

Where Can I Watch?: KissAsian

Episodes: 32, 30min length

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kindar-life · 5 years

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<h1>The problem with Crossing the Border (09-01-19)</h1>

The problem with Crossing the Border (09-01-19)

Or an alternate title: I have ADHD, Big Surprise Out of curiosity, anyone has border crossing stories? They don’t have to be horror stories; they can be good. I’m mainly curious how it’s been for other people. So this week could have gone great, and for one the problem wasn’t on my company’s side. We did everything right, it’s the shipper and the border who dropped the ball. So, did the delivery on Monday and as my manager is on vacation, St-Germain was the one handling it, and before they were done unloaded, I had my next assignment. a pickup, 5 hours away, for Wednesday morning. If my manager had been handling it, I wouldn’t have found out until later on Tuesday, forcing me to rush there, his justifications would be that he was looking for something better in the meantime, which is BS, since that shipper is about the only one we have in all of BC anymore. I only drove an hour, I mean, what’s the point. I’m on eastern time, so 3 hours ahead of them, and going to be a day early. Also, Hwy 3 from Hope to Grand Forks, is horrible and there is no way I want to do it in the dark. It was still dark by the time I left on Tuesday, but was light before I hit the really tight curves going up and down hills. It’s the summer, so it wasn’t as bad as it could be, and I was empty, but I’ve done them in the winter. I never look forward to driving on that road. Made it mid-morning for them, checked in, pointing out I was a day early and they said to drop it, their shunt driver would put it in a door within minutes and within a couple of hours it would be done. Which was great news for me. If I could get in the US a day early, I’d be able to take a two-day weekend. Remember that ‘IF’. The trailer is ready in three hours, but it takes another hour for me to find out because I was looking at the wrong drop lot. I decided to go in and get an update and, on the way, I saw it in the opposite drop lot. Got my papers, confirmed I was good to cross the border and headed to the Laurier crossing. I like it because it isn’t busy and the road on the US side is nice, even if it’s a 2-lane highway. No big hills, few tight curves and only a handful of towns. There is Spokane when it reaches I90, but I found a way around it. It’s a little longer, than driving through Spokane, but a lot easier. Get to the border, go inside. It’s so quiet they don’t have truck booths. I hand in the papers, the officer looked in his is system and asks. “Where’s your permit?” “I’m sorry,” I reply, “What permit?” “your permit to cross here.” Here is the thing. We’ve been crossing at this border for eight months. And we’ve never been asked for a permit. It turns out that no officer should have ever allowed us to cross there, but they weren’t doing their jobs properly. The reason we don’t have a permit is that the shipper never added us to the list of approved Carrier to cross there with their product. I did not know there was such a situation possible. So I turned around, stopped in an aside in the hopes it was an easy fix and called the shipper. Only to find out the person who deals with the border had already left for the day (it was 4pm locally, in the mood I was in, I wasn’t thinking good thing about a person who didn’t have to work until 5pm like all office workers.) I called dispatch to advise them. Drove back to the shipper to park for the night, they are only 10 minutes from the border, another reason I like crossing there. Next morning, 9am their time, noon mine, I go in and find out there’s nothing to be done about it, they can only add a carrier to their list once a year, in December. The closest crossing that is a ‘Commercial Crossing,” is in Ossoyoos, two hours west, over all those horrible hills and turns. Tell dispatch about it, get told it can’t be, we cross at Laurier all the time. I tell them, yes, but we can’t anymore, check with the shipper if you believe your driver is so determined to drive over horrible hills. By the time I bet close to Ossoyoos, I still don’t have my papers so I park at the truckstop there. Only have to wait an hour and I do. I have to drive later than I prefer but I make it to Post Falls, ID, where I like to park anytime I have to cross at that border. My 2-day weekend is gone, but I can take it easy, there’s plenty of time to get to Laredo. Or not. Friday morning my manager, the one who is on vacation, calls me to ask when I’m going to be there. I tell him something on Tuesday. I’m not concerned since it doesn’t need to be there until Friday. He starts asking why so late, it need to be there ASAP. I tell him I need to do a reset (not true, technically, but don’t tell him that) I tell him that the best I can do is be there Monday late afternoon, and he asks why? I have plenty of hours and it’s a holiday on Monday so I need to get there earlier so I can get a load. And here I need to pause. The earliest I could be there, pushing as hard as I legally can would be Sunday, and the office there is closed. If it’s closed on Monday too, what does it matter if I’m there on Monday? If there is a load there for me to pickup on Sunday, it’s still going to be there on Monday. I still don’t budge on my reset. I have stopped caring about them changing delivery times after I’ve done my pickup a long time ago. If I’m given inaccurate information, it is not my problem. He grumbles and tells me to be there Monday without fault, as if I told him I might not make it. So I had to drive a little harder but I got her on Saturday, and rested. One of the things I did while I waited for all that was get more writing done, so you get five chapters of Taking the Line, Chapters 44 to 48. If there is the usual wait time in Laredo, the last five chapters should be done next week. Chapter 16 of Blind Spot is written, and I finished book 5 of LRK’s origin story. 13 chapters. The longest one to date, I hope the longest period. So I’ve started the newest Going Home, which will explore McKannon, the industrial sector of Tiranis, as well as Eric finally making contact with one of his relatives. if you want to read all that, it's only 1$ on my Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/posts/29632610 Another thing I did is take an ADHD test. There’s a warning about how it isn’t a medical tool, but if you score about a certain point, you really should talk to a doctor because, really, you have ADHD. And I do. I didn’t go in hoping I had it, but I strongly suspected I was somewhere on that spectrum. On the lower end, but on it none the less. There someone called ADHD Alien on Tumblr, and they post comics about how ADHD affects their daily lives and quite a few of them resonated with me, but one of the reason I never looked at the condition was that I was successful in school and the stereotype of someone with ADHD as that they aren’t good at school. Things is plenty of people with ADHD are good in school because it’s fun, there’s a lot of new things to learn and we soak up that knowledge easily, so easily most of us never have to bother studying, so we never learn how to study, and then when we hit college, of in my case the last two years of secondary school(I was in Quebec, they have their own system there) things start going badly. I was able to finish Secondary, but College was a bust. I just couldn’t figure out how to study and the concept I now had to deal with were so complex I couldn’t simply absorb them. I mean, I’m bright, but not that bright. So I dropped out, hit the work force and never regretted it. I was also lucky that my parents didn’t have expectations of me going to university and becoming a BIG SHOT™. They were surprised when I dropped out, but it was my life and they let me live it as I wanted. I love them for that. I love them for letting me screw up, then offering to help me up with a “See, that didn’t work, you might want to try something else, I can offer suggestions if you want but that’s up to you.” My mom picked up quicker than my dad that the suggestions that worked best were the kick in the ass kind of things and to then let me assimilate them and proceed. My mom told me months before I did it that I should write in the morning, that’s always been when I was at my best and I snorted, yeah right, mornings, who’s functional then? Eventually I ran out of things to try and did that. When I told my mom that she was right about it she smiled and said “I know.” But yeah, back on the ADHD thing. Learning that it was possible to succeed in school because you had ADHD and then fail for the same reason realigned my thinking. And add to that, that for the few things I can focus laser like on, like my writing, there are tons of them I am incapable of staying focus on. No matter how badly I want to learn them. So, yeah, I have ADHD. Will I seek treatment? No. for me to consider treating any condition I have, it has to either affect my ability to earn a living, or my health(and to be fair, when it comes to my health the potential down side have to be bad for me to even think about talking to a doctor about it) I can do my job without problem; I can do my writing without problems. The rest? Frankly, nothing else matter to a level I am willing to put those two at risk. I don’t Suffer from ADHD, I simply have it. I built my coping mechanism even without knowing I had something. Being Scatter brain? I either write it down, or accept that I will forget about it, and if I forget about it I accept the consequences. I don’t make myself a mess over forgetting it. I fix the problem it caused and move on. I do know now why Minecraft is such a trap for me now. It pulls at my focus by giving me things to do, always more things to do until I reached the point where I’m near panic because I can’t do all of them and I push it away. Until I’ve calmed down. But Minecraft commits the Sin of interfering with my writing by taking over that mental space. It’s why I no longer play it. It’s also why the craving is always there, but me and cravings are old friends. I have no issues staring him down. Okay, this is way longer than I expected so I’m going to pass on the movie and book review this week. You' all have fun, and come on, talk to me. Ask me questions, share your stories, it gets lonely talking to the void<chuckles> And that’s it, so I’ll see you on the next one.

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globalmediacampaign · 3 years

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Using Terraform to configure MySQL Database Service

Recently the MySQL Database Service (MDS) was launched in Oracle Cloud Infrastructure (OCI). As Cloud is about automation you don't have to use the Web Console to configure your instances, but can do it via API, for instance with the oci command line tool or your favorite programming language. However often it is nice to define the world in a declarative way ("I want a network, like this, and a MySQL database like that") and let the tool figure out how to align the reality in the cloud with your wish. A tool doing this is Terraform. With Terraform you can declare the state in description files, the tool creates a dependency graph and then applies what has to be applied and of course it supports OCI and as part of the default OCI Provider, there is even directly MDS support. So let's build a set of description files for a cloud environment. I assume you have a tenancy and want to create a new compartment, with it's own VCN and a Compute instance with a client, like MySQL Shell to access the database. For this configuration create a new empty directory. In there the first thing we need is to tell Terraform that we want to use the OCI provider for accessing OCI. We will come back to it, but for now this will be quite short. Whether we put everything in one file, or split it up and how our files are called doesn't matter for Terraform. It will scan for all files called something.tf and will build it's graph. I like relatively small files, one for each aspect of the configuration, but you are of course free. I start with oci.tf for my general configuration: provider "oci" { version = "~> 3.95" region = var.region } Here we say that we want at least version 3.95 for the OCI provider and configure our cloud region using a variable. All variables I use, and which can be set or overwritten, I put in a file called variables.tf, where I declare region like this: variable "region" {} As said the first thing I want to to create a Compartment. A Compartment in OCI is a grouping of different instances from services you are using. You can use Compartments for instance to group services different departments of your company are using and giving them different resource limits or having development and production systems separated or whatever you might need. By using a compartment here, we won't get in conflict with other services you are already using. This is my compartment.tf: resource "oci_identity_compartment" "mds_terraform" { name = "mds_terraform" description = "Compartment to house the MySQL Database and Terraform experiment" compartment_id = var.compartment_ocid enable_delete = true } In the first line we declare that the following is a description of a resource of a type oci_identity_compartment, which inside our other Terraform resources will be called mds_terraform. Then we define the name of the compartment we want to have inside OCI. Here I'm using the same name both times, followed by a description, which might help your colleagues or your later self to understand the purpose. The compartment_id property here refers to the parent, as Compartments can be hierarchical nested. Finally setting the property enable_deleta means that Terraform will try to delete the Compartment, when we tell it to delete things. As the parent Compartment is a variable again, we need to declare it, thus let's extend variables.tf: variable "compartment_ocid" {} With the compartment the first thing we need is our network. This is my vcn.tf: resource "oci_core_vcn" "mds_terraform_vcn" { cidr_block = "10.0.0.0/16" dns_label = "mdsterraform" compartment_id = oci_identity_compartment.mds_terraform.id display_name = "mds_terraform_vcn" } resource "oci_core_internet_gateway" "internet_gateway" { compartment_id = oci_identity_compartment.mds_terraform.id vcn_id = oci_core_vcn.mds_terraform_vcn.id display_name = "gateway" } resource "oci_core_default_route_table" "default-route-table-options" { manage_default_resource_id = oci_core_vcn.mds_terraform_vcn.default_route_table_id route_rules { network_entity_id = oci_core_internet_gateway.internet_gateway.id cidr_block = "0.0.0.0/0" } } resource "oci_core_subnet" "test_subnet" { cidr_block = "10.0.2.0/24" display_name = "mds_tf_subnet" dns_label = "mdssubnet" security_list_ids = [oci_core_security_list.securitylist1.id] compartment_id = oci_identity_compartment.mds_terraform.id vcn_id = oci_core_vcn.mds_terraform_vcn.id route_table_id = oci_core_vcn.mds_terraform_vcn.default_route_table_id dhcp_options_id = oci_core_vcn.mds_terraform_vcn.default_dhcp_options_id } resource "oci_core_security_list" "securitylist1" { display_name = "securitylist1" compartment_id = oci_identity_compartment.mds_terraform.id vcn_id = oci_core_vcn.mds_terraform_vcn.id egress_security_rules { protocol = "all" destination = "0.0.0.0/0" } ingress_security_rules { protocol = "6" source = "0.0.0.0/0" tcp_options { min = 22 max = 22 } } ingress_security_rules { protocol = "6" source = "0.0.0.0/0" tcp_options { min = 3306 max = 3306 } } ingress_security_rules { protocol = "6" source = "0.0.0.0/0" tcp_options { min = 33060 max = 33060 } } } This is quite a lot and I won't go through all things here, but this declares a VCN with a single subnet, adds an internet gateway, so that we can export services to the internet and can reach the internet from our VCN and sets ingress and egress firewall rules, to only allow traffic to MDS (ports 3306 and 33060) and SSH (port 22). What you might notice is how we are referring to the id of the Compartment we created before, by using oci_identity_compartment.mds_terraform.id and how the different network resources refer to each other in similar ways. Now it's time to create our MDS instance! Here is my mysql.tf: data "oci_mysql_mysql_configurations" "shape" { compartment_id = oci_identity_compartment.mds_terraform.id type = ["DEFAULT"] shape_name = var.mysql_shape } resource "oci_mysql_mysql_db_system" "mds_terraform" { display_name = "Terraform Experiment" admin_username = var.mysql_admin_user admin_password = var.mysql_admin_password shape_name = var.mysql_shape configuration_id =data.oci_mysql_mysql_configurations.shape.configurations[0].id subnet_id = oci_core_subnet.test_subnet.id compartment_id = oci_identity_compartment.mds_terraform.idm.id availability_domain = data.oci_identity_availability_domain.ad.name data_storage_size_in_gb = var.mysql_data_storage_in_gb } output "mysql_url" { value = "mysqlx://${var.mysql_admin_user}:${var.mysql_admin_password}@${oci_mysql_mysql_db_system.mds_terraform.ip_address}:${oci_mysql_mysql_db_system.mds_terraform.port_x}" } The actual MySQL Database Instance is declared in the second block, where we give it a name, configure the adminstrative user account, assign the subnet etc. Again we introduced some variables, so let's declare them in variables.tf: variable "mysql_admin_user" { default = "root" } variable "mysql_admin_password" { } variable "mysql_shape" { default = "VM.Standard.E2.1" } variable "mysql_data_storage_in_gb" { default = 50 } A few fields might need some extra explanation: The shape is the machine type we want and defines CPU type, whether we want a VM, memory and so on. Here we default to VM.Standard.E2.1, which is the smallest type and good enough for an experiment. On a production system you probably want to override and use a larger shape. Then MDS allows you to use different Configurations, so you can tune MySQL Configuration Variables for your application's needs. If you have your custom config you can provide the ID, but I want to use the default for that shape, so I use a data resource to look it up. In many Cloud Region there are different Availability Domains, different data centers close to each other. The resources we created before span over ADs. However the MDS Instance has to live in a AD. To lookup the AD's ID based on the number of the AD we can put this in oci.tf: data "oci_identity_availability_domain" "ad" { compartment_id = var.compartment_ocid ad_number = var.availability_domain } And, again, I add another variable to variables.tf. Now there's one more thing in the mysql.tf: An output block. This will ask Terraform to give us a summary once it is done. With all these things ready we can execute it! For a start I want to use the Web Console and OCI's Resource Manager. For that I have to package my files, which I do from my command line: $ zip mds-terraform.zip *.tf adding: compartment.tf (deflated 38%) adding: mysql.tf (deflated 61%) adding: network.tf (deflated 75%) adding: oci.tf (deflated 35%) adding: variables.tf (deflated 50%) With that file we can login to the Console, and navigate to the Resource Manager. After clicking the "Create Stack" button we can use the checkbox to tell the system that we have zip file and then either drag the file from a file manager or browse for the file. Now we are being asked to fill the configuration variables we defined previously. No surprise is that our defaults are pre-filled, however the system also identified your region and Compartment ID! The Compartment ID suggested is the one which was used to create the Stack, which probably is the root aka. the tenancy's ID. Now you could pick a password for the MySQL user and continue. However MDS has specific requirements on the password security and we would eventually fail later, so let's take a quick side tour and make this form a bit nicer. This can be done by providing a schema.yml file: title: "MySQL Terraform Experiment" description: "An experimental Terraform setup to create MySQL Database Service Instances" schemaVersion: 1.1.0 version: "20190304" locale: "en" groupings: - title: "Basic Hidden" visible: false variables: - compartment_ocid - tenancy_ocid - region - title: "General Configuration" variables: - mysql_admin_user - mysql_admin_password variables: compartment_ocid: type: oci:identity:compartment:id # type: string required: true title: "Compartment" description: "The compartment in which to create compute instance(s)" mysql_admin_user: type: string required: true title: "MySQL Admin User" description: "Username for MySQL Admin User" minLength: 1 maxLength: 14 pattern: "^[a-zA-Z][a-zA-Z0-9]+$" mysql_admin_password: type: string required: true title: "MySQL Password" description: "Password for MySQL Admin User" pattern: "^(?=.*[0-9])(?=.*[a-z])(?=.*[A-Z])(?=.*[!@#$%^&*()_+-=[]{};':"\|,./?]).{8,32}$" outputGroups: - title: "MySQL Database Service" outputs: - mysql_url outputs: mysql_url: type: string title: "MySQL Connection String" visible: true And then packing the zip file again: $ zip mds-terraform.zip *.tf schema.yaml updating: compartment.tf (deflated 38%) updating: mysql.tf (deflated 61%) updating: network.tf (deflated 75%) updating: oci.tf (deflated 35%) updating: variables.tf (deflated 50%) adding: schema.yaml (deflated 57%) In the stack configuration I now blick Back, upload the new file and get a nicer form. So, let's enter a password and we can continue. (IMPORTANT: The password will be stored insecurely in the stack, for production usage you should secure it) After completing the Wizard I come to an overview page for the Stack and can then pick the Terraform Apply Action. This will take about 15 minutes and create our resources. After the process is done I browse to the MySQL Database Service page But oh wait, there is no System in the list!? - Yes, since it is in the newly created compartment, so on the left I can select the mds_terraform Compartment. If it doesn't appear in the list my browser has an outdated version cached and I simply reload the page. Now we have a MySQL Database Service Database Instance within a VCN and can't reach it. Not so good, so I add one more service to my Terraform configuration: A compute instance with pre-installed MySQL Shell. Here's the compute.tf: data "oci_core_images" "images_for_shape" { compartment_id = oci_identity_compartment.mds_terraform.id operating_system = "Oracle Linux" operating_system_version = "7.8" shape = var.compute_shape sort_by = "TIMECREATED" sort_order = "DESC" } resource "oci_core_instance" "compute_instance" { availability_domain = data.oci_identity_availability_domain.ad.name compartment_id = oci_identity_compartment.mds_terraform.id display_name = "MySQL Database Service and Terraform Test" shape = var.compute_shape source_details { source_type = "image" source_id = data.oci_core_images.images_for_shape.images[0].id } create_vnic_details { assign_public_ip = true display_name = "primaryVnic" subnet_id = oci_core_subnet.test_subnet.id hostname_label = "compute" } metadata = { ssh_authorized_keys = var.public_key user_data = filebase64("init-scripts/compute-init.sh") } } output "compute_public_ip" { value = oci_core_instance.compute_instance.public_ip } This creates a VM using the latest Oracle Linux 7.8 image and asks for a public IP address, so we can reach it from the outside. I also reference a script called init-scripts/compute-init.sh. This script looks like this and simply installs MySQL Shell from MySQL's yum repository: #!/bin/sh cd /tmp wget https://dev.mysql.com/get/mysql80-community-release-el7-3.noarch.rpm sudo rpm -i mysql80-community-release-el7-3.noarch.rpm sudo yum update sudo yum install -y mysql-shell In variables.tf a new variable is to be added, which will ask for an SSH public key, so we can login to the machine and a variable to configure the shape with a sensible default: variable "compute_shape" { default ="VM.Standard2.1" } variable "public_key" { } For adding the new configuration field and new output to our form in the Resource Manager schema.yml needs a few minor updates, for simplicity here is the complete file: title: "MySQL Terraform Experiment" description: "An experimental Terraform setup to create MySQL Database Service Instances" schemaVersion: 1.1.0 version: "20190304" locale: "en" groupings: - title: "Basic Hidden" visible: false variables: - compartment_ocid - tenancy_ocid - region - title: "General Configuration" variables: - mysql_admin_user - mysql_admin_password - public_key variables: compartment_ocid: type: oci:identity:compartment:id # type: string required: true title: "Compartment" description: "The compartment in which to create compute instance(s)" mysql_admin_user: type: string required: true title: "MySQL Admin User" description: "Username for MySQL Admin User" minLength: 1 maxLength: 14 pattern: "^[a-zA-Z][a-zA-Z0-9]+$" mysql_admin_password: type: password required: true title: "MySQL Password" description: "Password for MySQL Admin User" pattern: "^(?=.*[0-9])(?=.*[a-z])(?=.*[A-Z])(?=.*[!@#$%^&*()_+-=[]{};':"\|,./?]).{8,32}$" public_key: type: string title: "SSH Public Key" description: "An OpenSSH public key for accessing your compute instance" outputGroups: - title: "MySQL Database Service" outputs: - mysql_url - title: "Compute Instance" outputs: - compute_public_ip outputs: mysql_url: type: string title: "MySQL Connection String" visible: true compute_public_ip: type: string title: "Public IP" visible: true Now I can package it up, again: $ zip mds-terraform.zip *.tf schema.yaml init-scripts/compute-init.sh updating: compartment.tf (deflated 38%) updating: mysql.tf (deflated 62%) updating: network.tf (deflated 76%) updating: oci.tf (deflated 35%) updating: variables.tf (deflated 55%) updating: schema.yaml (deflated 57%) adding: compute.tf (deflated 54%) adding: init-scripts/compute-init.sh (deflated 39%) And go back to the resource manager ... oh wait .. list is empty ... hah .. I'm in the wrong Compartment. Once that hurdle is bypassed I can select the Stack I created previously, click Edit and upload the new file. The wizard will now ask for the ssh key, which I copy from my $HOME/.ssh/id_rsa.pub before completing the wizard. then I again pick the Terraform Apply action and can observe how Terraform notices that most things already exist, but only the Compute instance is missing and creates it. A few minutes later it is done and the task completed. On top of the page a new tab Application Information appeared and based on information from the schema.yml file giving me an mysqlx URL and an IP address. I then use that IP address to connect to the machine, using my ssh key and the usernamne opc. I have to confirm the server identity by typing yes and am on my Compute instance, which is in my VCN. I can then use MySQL Shell with the URL from the Terraform summary to connect to the MySQL instance. MySQL Shell will by default start in JavaScript mode. If I'm not in mood for that I can type sql and switch in SQL mode. I can also install other programs as I like, including my own, and connect to the MDS instance just like any other MySQL. [opc@compute ~]$ mysqlsh 'mysqlx://root:[email protected]:33060' MySQL Shell 8.0.22 Copyright (c) 2016, 2020, Oracle and/or its affiliates. Oracle is a registered trademark of Oracle Corporation and/or its affiliates. Other names may be trademarks of their respective owners. Type 'help' or '?' for help; 'quit' to exit. WARNING: Using a password on the command line interface can be insecure. Creating an X protocol session to '[email protected]:33060' Fetching schema names for autocompletion... Press ^C to stop. Your MySQL connection id is 13 (X protocol) Server version: 8.0.22-u2-cloud MySQL Enterprise - Cloud No default schema selected; type use to set one. MySQL 10.0.2.5:33060+ ssl JS > sql Switching to SQL mode... Commands end with ; MySQL 10.0.2.5:33060+ ssl SQL > CREATE DATABASE foo; Query OK, 1 row affected (0.0052 sec) MySQL 10.0.2.5:33060+ ssl SQL > use foo Default schema set to `foo`. Fetching table and column names from `foo` for auto-completion... Press ^C to stop. MySQL 10.0.2.5:33060+ ssl foo SQL > CREATE TABLE t (id INT); Query OK, 0 rows affected (0.0236 sec) MySQL 10.0.2.5:33060+ ssl foo SQL > INSERT INTO t VALUES (1); Query OK, 1 row affected (0.0139 sec) MySQL 10.0.2.5:33060+ ssl foo SQL > SELECT * FROM t; +----+ | id | +----+ | 1 | +----+ 1 row in set (0.0007 sec) Once you are done you can go back to the Web Console and the Stack's page and pick the Terraform Destroy Action and all things will be removed again. Note: It can happen that the Cloud Init Script didn't finish, yet and MySQL Shell isn't installed. Then wait a few moments and try again. Also you might see an error like mysqlsh: error while loading shared libraries: libpython3.7m.so.1.0: cannot open shared object file: No such file or directory. If that happens logout and back in. If the error persists run export LD_LIBRARY_PATH=/usr/lib/mysqlsh/ mysqlsh as a workaround. Now didn't I initially say that I want to automate it and not click in a Web Console? - Yeah I did and install the terraform tool locallyby downloading from terraform.io and then changing my oci.tf file. Previously I was inside OCI and could use my Web Session as authentication and gather data. From my local machine I have to configure more. The provider entry now looks like this: provider "oci" { version = "~> 3.95" region = var.region tenancy_ocid = var.tenancy_ocid user_ocid = var.user_ocid fingerprint = var.fingerprint private_key_path = var.private_key_path } There are new variables, so I add them to variables.tf: variable "user_ocid" {} variable "fingerprint" {} variable "private_key_path" {} Now I can run terraform init, which will read the files and download the oci provider. If I now run terraform apply it will ask me about all those variables. Best way to gather those is by installing the OCI command line tool and running oci setup bootstrap, which will guide you through the process to setup a client and putting relevant information in your $HOME/.oci/config file. All these files are available on GitHub at https://github.com/johannes/mysql-database-service-terraform-example Happy MySQLing. If you want to see how to use a similar setup for running a serverless application using Node.js on OCI you can look at this Hands-on-Lab and I also suggest reserving some time to attend the Oracle Live event with a big MySQL announcement on December 2nd. http://schlueters.de/blog/archives/190-Using-Terraform-to-configure-MySQL-Database-Service.html

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johnny-and-dora · 6 years

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oh, what a beautiful morning

jake and amy's egg-cellent morning adventure - or the one where jake falls asleep to the sound of amy sifiting through paperwork and wakes up to the sound of her making him breakfast, much to his great amusement and only minor heartbreak. (early season 2 fluff) read on ao3

The first time Jake Peralta wakes up in Amy Santiago’s apartment, he wakes up to sunlight streaming through floral pattern curtains, a mildly concerning burning smell heavily permeating the air, and a string of loud expletives coming from the kitchen.

For a second, as his vaguely familiar surroundings swim before him, he thinks he could be back home - he’s lost count of the number of times his mom has started their mornings together by burning every breakfast item imaginable, as if she’s got some kind of arsonist agenda he should probably arrest her for (although, to be fair, it was a blessing in disguise when she accidentally singed off his ponytail in high school).

But then his brain finally shifts into gear and, with a jolt, he realises that it’s Amy’s voice fiercely arguing with various kitchen utensils next door. It’s Amy’s usually delicately folded guest blanket that is haphazardly yet somehow also carefully draped over him - and it’s Amy’s couch that he’s presumably been sprawled all over since he fell asleep midway through working that seemingly impossible case with her last night.

The case. Right. Definitely the only reason he would ever want to wake up in Amy Santiago’s apartment to Amy Santiago making him breakfast. After they spent the night together working a case, because they are respectful and professional police colleagues and will never be anything more.

Not that he’s ever thought about being more, obviously, right? Not like it’s basically consumed every waking thought he’s had ever since that stupid bet, every second of being undercover, every weird moment they’ve shared since he came back. Not at all.

He gets up, immediately feeling like a jerk for being here in the first place - shoving down a pang of guilt for so rudely taking up her couch like that and invading her privacy. She should have woken him up and let him shuffle back to his lumpy mattress and mail tub in peace; now she’s making him breakfast and he’s inevitably going to find some way to make it awkward for them for the rest of the day. Great.

Between the brick wall he’s hit this week trying to crack this case (literally, one of his perps actually threw him against a brick wall the other day) and...other things on his mind, he’s been basically narcoleptic for the past few days and now – well, now, Amy’s going to be scrubbing the Jake off of everything in her living room for weeks.

At least he hasn’t stained or broken anything – yet.

He thinks about leaving quietly, not wanting to intrude any further – but she draws him to the kitchen anyway, because he woke up in Amy Santiago’s apartment, and he’s going to enjoy every second he can get of her shouting match with her stove before she can notice him.

And right, okay, cool, Amy is still just as beautiful as usual when she’s wearing sweatpants and an old NYPD t-shirt, that’s cool. That’s fine.

And, of course, she’s still just as breathtaking when she’s becoming increasingly frustrated with the pan of char-grilled scrambled eggs she’s currently close to either arresting or unceremoniously flinging (he theorises, making a mental note not to piss her off so much that he has to peel the great egg monstrosity off of his face later) but that’s fine. No big deal. He can deal with that.

He has to deal with that. There’s no alternative to solving this mess he’s gotten himself into with this dumb crush. That’s all it can be - she’s with Teddy, and they’re probably going to get married and have loads of nerd children and live happily ever after. Even if she wasn’t, why would she ever want to be with him?

But for now, just for this one tiny barely significant moment, he indulges himself in a stare he can’t normally risk with Charles lurking around; leaning comfortably against the doorframe, unashamedly drinking every inch of her in.

Just for one moment.

And then he ashamedly forces himself to look away, because that’s creepy and unprofessional and definitely not something just a police colleague should ever do. As beautiful and chaotic Amy is at – he checks his watch – 7:30 in the morning (an ungodly hour, might he add) he finally decides to clear his throat, stepping into the kitchen.

“Are you...making me breakfast?”

She jumps slightly at the sound of his voice, whipping around and wielding a frying pan with such force and anger it might as well be a lightsaber. For a fraction of second Jake’s genuinely worried she might split him in half before he starts to laugh and she relaxes slightly, letting her weapon drop to her side as she casually tries (and fails) to look nonchalant, leaning back against her kitchen counter.

“No! What? Maybe...I, erm, felt bad for leaving you on the couch.” “Awww, Ames – was I just too adorable that you couldn’t bear to wake me up?” “No, I just didn’t want to go anywhere near your drool.”

“Oh, ew. Gross.” Jake runs a hand through his hair, suddenly achingly aware of how much of a mess he must look – at the same time as Amy realises she’s still wearing her pyjamas and her cheeks flush a light shade of pink.

So really, he’s nailing the whole not making it awkward thing. Score.

“Sorry for...umm. Yeah. Falling asleep. Didn’t mean to intrude.” “Oh, it’s fine. You were kinda out cold and I figured you could use the rest. This case has been kicking our ass.”

“Yeah. So, anyway, what did these eggs do to you to deserve this? Must be a serious felony.” Jake gestures to the pan Amy’s been wrestling with for the past ten minutes and she rolls her eyes, smiling in the way that always catches in his chest.

“Shut up, Peralta. I was trying to do something nice.” “Are you sure you don’t want me to call in Major Crimes to make this bust?” “I will force feed you this if it kills me, and it will probably kill you.” “Should I file a report for police brutality?” “I swear to God-“

“Okay, okay, I’m done.” He holds up his hands in mock defeat as she turns the stove off, wafting the air in an ineffectual attempt to get rid of the lingering smoky scent. He’s only quiet for a minute, though, before he just can’t help himself –

“Really, I think you’re an egg-ceptional cook. I’m not egg-aggerating at all.” “...I will destroy you with this frying pan.”

“C’mon, Santiago, that’s a bit egg-streme. I’m egg – “Before Jake can even finish, she’s chasing him around the kitchen, whacking him while he half laughs, half cries in pain. They both almost collapse in laughter on the tiled floor, every inhibition or awkward moment forgotten; and yeah, it hurts that maybe they’ll never be more than police colleagues in that way.

But the way his stomach aches from laughing shows that they’re definitely friends. And for this morning, that’s enough.

It’s more than enough, really. Enough doesn’t even begin to cover how grateful he is to find someone who’ll let him sleep on their couch and make him breakfast and still enthusiastically belt him within an inch of his life with a kitchen utensil.

He’s lucky to have her. He’s way too uncomfortable with emotions to ever be able to let her know that, but he is.

“I was going to say sorry! I’m egg-sorry!” “Do you want breakfast or not, because at this point I’m more than willing to just let you starve.” “...I’ll eat the rest of the pizza if you make some coffee?”

Amy sighs and shoves her blackened amalgamation of a breakfast into the trash, wrinkling her nose in disgust as Jake helps himself to the rest of last night’s leftover pizza.

She pours herself a bowl of cereal and makes them both coffee, and it’s...nice. It’s surprisingly natural, actually, as he sits on her kitchen counter, swinging his legs back and forth and making fun of her parchment scroll length itemised shopping list tacked neatly to the fridge. Like he belongs there.

He sifts through the files that are still strewed haphazardly on the coffee table as Amy gets dressed – showing up two days in a row to work in the same clothes is pretty normal for him anyway, so he doesn’t have to worry about that. They’re both ready for work by the time Jake’s alarm normally goes off, and for once he can guarantee that this time he’s not going to be late.

He can’t wait to see the look on Holt’s face.

“Ready to go?” “Yeah. Um, thank you. For, y’know. Breakfast.”

“That’s okay.” She smiles warmly at him and he can practically feel his heart bursting out of his chest. God, he’s such an idiot. They just sort of stare at each other for a moment before her face lights up.

“Oh, by the way, sleeping beauty – I totally solved the case while you were out.” “What? No way!” “Uh huh. It was the contractor’s wife; she used two fake ID’s, a Mexican passport and the bread knife we found in the dumpster. Want to help me make the arrest?” “The wife! I knew it! Obviously I was so close, really I was just sleeping to give you a chance to –“

Her pointed look cuts him off, and she rolls her eyes as he gives her a dorky grin.

And, just for this one tiny barely significant moment, his stupid crush on Amy Santiago isn’t so overwhelmingly, well, crushing, and everything between them is so, so good.

Even if the smell of smoke around them is still lightly suffocating, and his heart still starts beating way too fast every time he looks at her, and Amy will be scrubbing the orange soda stains off of her couch for weeks.

(Of course, the next time he wakes up in Amy Santiago’s apartment it’ll be in her bed, with Amy Santiago sleeping softly beside him, and everything between them will be better than he could have ever possibly imagined.) (But he doesn’t need to know that.)

“Yeah, okay. I’d like that.”

#my writing #i actually posted a full fic on here for once!#yay!#i honestly have no idea what this is #but i've been dying to write for months now #and this was all my poor tired brain could produce #so i hope you like it #b99 #brooklyn nine nine #brooklyn 99 #peraltiago #b99 fic #amy santiago #jake peralta #fluff for the soul #and a bit of pining because #i can only ever write pining #shut up sian

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twxntrash · 7 years

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The Moon Is Beautiful, Isn’t It? Ch. 13

At long last it’s here. It’s not the longest of chapters, but, it’s a chapter. Hope you enjoy.

Lapis could only stare at Peridot in silence, her shopping bags from the convenience store having been forgotten at her sides, no care for if the contents inside got wet from the rain. She just stared at Peridot for what felt like forever trying to understand what was going on. Mind trying to figure out why Peridot would be out here. She was just shocked to find the girl who had taken over her thoughts out here. In a storm. Drunk. She snapped out of her stupor when she saw the blonde shiver where she sat, worry and concern quickly taking the forefront of her mind. The girl was probably out in the rain far longer than Lapis, she was completely drenched from head to toe. She had to be freezing! Lapis quickly got to her knees, trying to discern any injuries on the blonde as she looked her over.

Worry filled her system, and maybe just a little bit of anger too at seeing her student and friend like this. “Peridot, are you okay?” she asked. Her response was a drunken, carefree giggle from Peridot as she slowly helped the blonde to her feet, though the young woman swayed and stumbled a little, so Lapis kept her hands on her to help keep her up.

The blonde took a moment to respond, just staring at Lapis with wide eyes, between the alcohol and the water blurring up her glasses, the teacher had to wonder just how bad her vision was currently impaired. Peridot pulled herself from Lapis' grip and shot finger guns at her. In any other situation, Lapis would have found it adorable, “I’m better than okay, Laz. I’m feeling great—whoa!” she cut herself off as she very nearly lost her balance again just from taking a few steps back. However, she managed to keep herself upright without Lapis’ help this time, her bottle of whiskey was still clasped between her fingers, the sound of the liquid sloshing inside was audible even through the rain.

Lapis glanced down at the dark bottle, and then back at Peridot, at the drenched, drunken wet cat look that she had now. She hadn’t a clue what Peridot was doing here, why she was drunk and where she got the alcohol from in the first place. But, there was no way she could just leave her out in this rain. Nor was she going to trust Peridot to be able to get back home safely on her own. Could Peridot even lead the way home in her state or was she too drunk to remember her way home? Lapis didn’t want to risk it if it could keep them out in the rain longer than needed.

“Come on, let’s go,” Lapis said, gently taking a hold of Peridot by the arm and, after picking back up her bags with her other hand, she began leading Peridot down the sidewalk. She wanted to get her somewhere safe, where she could dry off and where could sober up. Somewhere Lapis could watch her so that she could make sure that Peridot was okay and stayed okay. She really couldn’t help the bitterness and sour taste she got in her mouth just from thinking of what could have happened if someone other than herself had come across Peridot, drunk and vulnerable, in the rain tonight.

Thank God Lapis had found her when she did, and thank God that Peridot didn’t appear hurt at all. Still, they were going to have a rather long talk when they got out of the storm about why Peridot should not be drinking, and if she still decided she was going to be drinking, why she shouldn’t go wandering out in storms while drunk. For someone so smart, Peridot could be so stupid.

Peridot smiled at her and Lapis could feel her heart constrict a little and do some backflips, even drunk she had a beautiful smile. Her steps were uneven and she gave the occasional hiccup, but regardless, she was pretty willing to follow Lapis through the rain without complaint, “Where we goin’?” she asked innocently.

“Home,” Lapis replied, and then as an afterthought she clarified, “my home. It's not far from here.”

“Oooh! Ms. Lazuli, how forward of you!” Peridot burst out laughing as she put a hand to her chest, clearly trying to do the swooning pose but failing big time as she was unable to contain her laughter.

At the implications being made, Lapis’ face turned red, feeling hot despite the chill of the rain. “Oh hush, you know I don’t mean it like that,” she chided, unable to look Peridot in the face.

Peridot was grinning ear to ear as she drew closer to Lapis, almost hugging her arm as she followed, “Aww, and with that my dreams are crushed.” If Lapis didn't know better, she'd say Peridot was trying to flirt. But, it was just the alcohol talking. Lapis was sure it was just the alcohol talking.

She supposed that the good thing about finding Peridot where she had was that Lapis wasn't lying when she said she didn’t live all that far from the park. All it took was for them to walk three or four blocks and then she was pulling Peridot through her front door and kicking off her shoes on the doormat. She wondered for a moment what her neighbors would think if they saw her taking home one of her students, but shrugged it off. Like she cared what they thought, and it wasn’t like they really cared enough to keep tabs on what Lapis did.

“Just take your shoes off here, don’t mind Malachite, she won’t bite,” Lapis directed as she pulled her jacket off and left it on the coat rack. Water dripped down from it onto. Even though she had her jacket on and zipped tight, her shirt was pretty wet and so was her pants, she’d no doubt have to change clothes. Of course, Peridot would too, she was far wetter than Lapis. “I’ll get you some towels and a change of clothes, follow me.”

Peridot shook her head at the offer and instead held her backpack up for Lapis to see, “No need. Got a spare set in here,” she said.

“There’s no way anything in there is still dry.” Just from one look at the backpack, it was soaked all the way through. Lapis had her fair share of running her bags through the rain, and if Peridot had brought clothes with her in there, then they were bound to be wet. Wait… why would she even have a spare set of clothes in her bag? Lapis was going to have to ask her about that later. “I’ll throw them in the dryer, but, I should have something around here you can wear.”

Thankfully Peridot wasn’t too argumentative about it. She put her backpack down and followed Lapis through the house. The bluenette managed to find a pair of shorts that had been too small for herself and a shirt for Peridot to use and ushered her into the bathroom along with a few towels.

“Go on and get changed, I’ll be back in a minute,” Lapis said from the doorway, closing the door as she left Peridot to her own devices for a minute so she could change into some dry clothes herself. Of course, the first priority was to dispose of the whiskey now that it wasn't in Peridot's hands anymore, and she was more than happy to dump the bottle into the trash on her way to her room.

Ten minutes later found Lapis and Peridot on the couch. Malachite had already come to investigate the new guest in the home and had already gotten bored; stepping off to sleep in the bedroom when Peridot showed to have nothing of interest to her.

Lapis was finding it hard to figure out what to say, how to start this conversation. She never thought she’d have to be questioning Peridot like this, after all, who in the world would have thought they’d run into Peridot drunk? But still, she had to get to the bottom of this. In the back of her mind, she realized that this could also be her chance to find out once and for all why Peridot had been avoiding her.

“Peridot,” she began slowly, cautiously. She didn’t want to start this off bad right away, who knew what kind of drunk Peridot could be, she’d handled enough people at the bar to know to be careful, “what were you doing out there?”

The blonde shrugged as she hugged her knees to her chest, watching the TV with interest as a bunch of chefs tried to prove themselves better than the other. “Cause I wanted too?” she offered. Lapis was sure that there was more to it. Her phone started ringing, and as Peridot pulled it out of the shorts pocket, Lapis caught a glance of the caller ID; Yellow Demon. She saw the narrowed eyes and furrow brows on Peridots face, her teeth worrying her lips as she watched the phone, not answering as it vibrated and rang. Only speaking when the phone stopped ringing and turning it on silent as she talked, "It's rain, rains nice, right? It's water, you like water, so I want to like water."

Lapis shrugged off the phone call, she could understand not wanting to answer a call when drunk, she did the same thing so many times in the past. Especially if it was someone you really didn't want hearing you talk drunk. “You’re not the kind of person who’d sit down in a rainstorm just because you wanted too,” Lapis pointed out instead, though the fact that she said she wanted to like water because of Lapis. It was somewhere between surprising and flattering, she wasn't sure how to describe it.

Shaking her head, she pressed on. “Did something happen?” Was it because of me? she wanted to add. A bit of guilt was gnawing at her from inside as the thought occurred to her. What if it was because of her? Because it was the only way Peridot could deal with whatever it was Jasper told her about her.

She didn’t like thinking like that. But, it was a possibility. If she was the reason Peridot got drunk and threw herself out in the rain… she felt awful.

“I guess… I guess I’m not, huh?” Peridots voice was soft, but it was only a moment because she smiled, voice as loud as always as she spoke up again, “But, can’t a gal try new things? I tried alcohol and I tried the rain. At least I liked one of them.”

“You could have gotten sick,” Lapis retorted. Just because Peridot wasn't going to give her a straight answer didn't mean she was going to give up. “You're not the drinking type, you're not the kind to make stupid choices like this," she said and then hesitated a moment, adding on after making her decision. “Peridot, why have you been avoiding me? Did I do something wrong? Is this because I did something?”

The blonde fell silent. Her entire posture had gone stiff at the question, as though it was the last question she even wanted Lapis to ask. Her nails curled into her legs, digging into her borrowed shorts as she stared at the TV without a word. Her discomfort was clear, and Lapis regretted asking her that question since this was the result of it all.

“Peridot, are you okay?” Lapis asked, turning her entire body to face the blonde, “I’m sorry, look, you don’t have to tell me right now.”

Yeah, she wished Lapis hadn’t asked that question. It wasn’t something she really wanted to admit to the blue haired woman just yet. Peridot looked up and swallowed dryly. Okay, no, she was lying to herself. She wanted to answer Lapis question, really, she did. She wanted so badly to just tell her that ‘hey, sorry I was avoiding you like the plague, it's just because I’m in love with you’, but, well, she wasn’t the most articulate when drunk and handling feelings. The butterflies that Lapis still managed to put in her even now wasn’t helping her all that much either. She wanted to tell her, she just couldn't get the words to come out.

She glanced at Lapis, at the worry that was on her face at seeing Peridots unease. She felt her insides heat up and turn to goop. Lapis had always been pretty, and she seemed even more so. Maybe it was the alcohol talking, but, well, just looking at Lapis she could feel her unease start to calm. She liked looking at pretty things, and Lapis was the prettiest one in this house. It was so easy to just get lost in looking at Lapis right now, and it was so hard to look away.

Her blue eyes were so beautiful if Peridot was being honest, and she was pretty honest right now, they were the most breathtaking shade she’d ever seen. She could stare at them for hours and never get bored. Her skin was flawless, smooth and soft. Peridot found her eyes dipping lower, to the plump lips she’d dreamed and desired to cover with her own.

She couldn’t trust herself to use words to answer Lapis’ question. But there was a different way to convey it all. If there was ever a chance. She’d rather do this now and brush it off as a drunken act of stupidity later when she was sober then spend forever wishing she’d not backed out of it.

“Peridot?” Lapis asked again. The blonde had been staring at her silently and she was a little concerned if she was okay. “Are you spacing out or whmph!”

She never got a chance to finish because Peridot had leaned in, quickly cutting her off as she captured Lapis’ lips with her own. Small hands came up to grab Lapis by the arms, holding onto her but just loose enough that if Lapis wanted to she could break out of with ease and push the blonde away.

She didn’t push her away. Lapis’ mind had gone blank for a moment, eyes wide in surprise as she felt the younger woman’s lips against her own. Feeling the blonde so close to her. Kissing her. It was like her mind had to go through a reboot system, and when it finished, she was hyper-focused on what was happening.

Peridot was kissing her. Peridot was kissing her. Peridot was kissing her.

Before she could even do anything, Peridot pulled away. Her face red, her eyes hazy, her breathing a little uneven. Yet she was watching Lapis, eyes laced with a tinge of fear, looking for something, anything from Lapis. Her grip on Lapis growing weak, like she was torn between letting go or holding onto her.

Lapis could feel her heart beating fast, her pulse a drum in her ears. Her face was burning. Her mind was screaming at her. She shouldn't want this. Shouldn't do this. Shouldn't have enjoyed the kiss as much as she did. But she couldn’t find it in her to listen to her brain, she knew what she wanted, who she wanted.

Lean arms wrapped around Peridot, pulling her close, holding her tight with no intentions to let go as Lapis dragged the blonde into another kiss.

#TMIB #Lapidot #SU #cam writes shit

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cgknowhow · 5 years

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GSoC Coding Phase - Part 3

The next thing to do was to get Jupyter notebooks to display the plots using pure Swift. Currently this was being done using the EnableIPythonDisplay.swift library bundled with swift-jupyter. The image was being passed to a display function after encoding it to the base64 format. The display function then used IPython’s display function along with the image format(i.e. PNG) to generate a display message, which was then sent to the Jupyter Kernel. And voila! The image was displayed!

For those who don’t know what a Jupyter Notebook is, quoting the Jupyter Notebook website:

The Jupyter Notebook is an open-source web application that allows you to create and share documents that contain live code, equations, visualizations and narrative text.

The way Jupyter displays thing is using messages. A message contains all the data that Jupyter requires to display anything.

The general format of a Jupyter message(as mentioned here) is :

{ # The message header contains a pair of unique identifiers for the # originating session and the actual message id, in addition to the # username for the process that generated the message. This is useful in # collaborative settings where multiple users may be interacting with the # same kernel simultaneously, so that frontends can label the various # messages in a meaningful way. 'header' : { 'msg_id' : str, # typically UUID, must be unique per message 'username' : str, 'session' : str, # typically UUID, should be unique per session # ISO 8601 timestamp for when the message is created 'date': str, # All recognized message type strings are listed below. 'msg_type' : str, # the message protocol version 'version' : '5.0', }, # In a chain of messages, the header from the parent is copied so that # clients can track where messages come from. 'parent_header' : dict, # Any metadata associated with the message. 'metadata' : dict, # The actual content of the message must be a dict, whose structure # depends on the message type. 'content' : dict, # optional: buffers is a list of binary data buffers for implementations # that support binary extensions to the protocol. 'buffers': list, }

To display images/graphics the message type(msg_type tag in the header) is display_data.

So what I had to do was, generate such display messages using Swift and send them over to the Jupyter Kernel.

Initially I found it pretty difficult to understand how messaging worked in Jupyter, so I had next to no idea about what I had to do. I decided to give it a few days and i finally started to understand what it all was. I made a naive implementation of the message generating code but only to fail. I got some error which seemed like gibberish to me. Even Googling didn’t help me here. Then Marc came to rescue. In swift-jupyter we send the message to the kernel in a serialized form(a utf8 CString). Marc found that while converting to this form, an extra null terminator was added to it, which created an error with Jupyter. Also in my implementation the message wasn’t an optional. So if a message was empty, it was still getting sent and this caused some errors. So, Marc removed the null terminators and made the message an optional.

But just sending messages wasn’t enough. Jupyter also needed message signing. A unique signature was generated for each message which was verified by Jupyter and if successful, only then we could see the result appear in the notebook. All this time we wore working by disabling message signing in Jupyter like this:

jupyter notebook --Session.key='b""'

The signature is the HMAC hex digest of the concatenation of:

A shared key (typically the key field of a connection file)

The serialized header

The serialized parent header

The serialized metadata

The serialized content

The hashing function to be used was sha256.

The problem that I faced here was, how do I get the HMAC hex digest? Implementing it on my own was out of question, because there was no way to guarantee its security. There are no cryptographic functions in Swift available on Linux. On Mac we could use CommonCrypto. It is an Obj-C library that one could import using bridging headers between Obj-C and Swift. The obstacle here was that using CommmonCrypto wouldn’t make it cross-platform, and also I had no idea of how to use bridging headers with swift-jupyter.

Brad suggested that we could use IBM’s BlueCryptor library. This was a cross-platform Swift cryptography library. On the Mac platform it used the CommonCrypto module and on Linux it used the libssl-dev package.

So to use the pure swift library the user had to install BlueCryptor before, or disable message signing.

Using BlueCryptor was pretty straightforward. The exact way to get an HMAC hex digest was given in the documentation. I had a few hiccups doing this initially, because I did not know that the key and data for hashing were to be provided as hex strings. I was using simple strings before and therefore wasn’t getting any results. Also the Swift toolchain I was using had some problems due to which it couldn’t compile BlueCryptor. The only Swift toolchains compatible with swift-jupyter were the S4TF nightly builds, which for some reason didn’t have python3.6 support on that specific day, which was a must for swift-jupyter. So I had to build it myself. This took a lot more time than I expected.

After all these hassles, finally I got it working. Yipee!!

You can find the implementation here: EnableJupyterDisplay.swift

Then I submitted a PR, which was reviewed many times. The comments were mostly about code formatting and style. I still hadn’t gotten used to the Swift style. I did what was asked and the PR was merged. There is still work to be done on this, like supporting more file formats, maybe include audio playback, etc. But all of that can come later. Right now the focus is just on making the data visualization library.

When I had taken a break from thinking about messaging in Jupyter I got to wotk on fixing the plot dimensions issue with the AGG Renderer.

How the AGG Renderer works is that, on initializing an instance of the renderer creates a buffer that holds all the pixels of the image. One could easily say that to have a custom size, one could pass in the image dimensions in the initializer/constructor of the respective class and allocate a buffer of the required size. But on doing this I got a segmentation fault. On investigating the issue using gdb, I found that the error had to do something with the row_accessor not being able to access a pixel. Essentially we were trying to access a wrong memory location somewhere. But even after going through the code many a times I couldn’t figure out where i was going wrong. The previous implementation had the buffer declared globally. It worked that way, but not when the buffer was part of the class.

I decided to dig a bit deeper and tried to find out answers online. There seemed to be no such answers anywhere but, I found an AGG mailing list, that had been inactive for more than two years. I did not have high hopes, but there was no harm in giving it a try. I’ll add the link to the mailing list at the end if anyone would need it in the future.

class Plot{ public: agg::rasterizer_scanline_aa<> m_ras; agg::scanline_p8 m_sl_p8; agg::line_cap_e roundCap = agg::round_cap; renderer_aa ren_aa; int pngBufferSize = 0; unsigned char* buffer; agg::int8u* m_pattern; agg::rendering_buffer m_pattern_rbuf; renderer_base_pre rb_pre; Plot(float width, float height, float subW, float subH){ frame_width = width; frame_height = height; sub_width = subW; sub_height = subH; buffer = new unsigned char[frame_width*frame_height*3]; agg::rendering_buffer rbuf = agg::rendering_buffer(buffer, frame_width, frame_height, -frame_width*3); pixfmt pixf = pixfmt(rbuf); renderer_base rb = renderer_base(pixf); ren_aa = renderer_aa(rb); pixfmt_pre pixf_pre(rbuf); rb_pre = renderer_base_pre(pixf_pre); }

This was the part of the code I was using to initialize the renderer. I sent this snippet to the mailing list. Fortunately someone called Stephan Abmus responded to my mail and pointed out that all the objects required for rendering needed to stay in memory while rendering. I won’t bore you with excessive details but here is a brief summary. I was declaring the pixf and rendering buffer in the constructor and as soon as it went out of scope those declarations went out of memory too and thus we got an error. I am still not sure why making the buffer global worked. Even declaring the buffer and pixf outside the constructor didn’t help. Actually pixf is a typedef for pix_fmt, which holds the format of the pixel to be used in the image, for example RGBA. In fact I couldn’t declare pixf outside the constructor because it didn’t have a default constructor. I had to pass in the rendering buffer while declarinf the pixf object. This meant I couldn’t declare the rendering_buffer outside of the constructor. The only option left was to declare the rendering buffer object and the pixf object inside every function that renderer something onto the image. This method worked!I had finally fixed the bug I was racking my brains on from the first day!

The next task to accomplish was to provide a better way to give data input to the plots, than the Point type. I was still trying to think of a way to do that. I had tried out generics but at the time it didn’t seem like a viable method. This topic is still under development and once something is finalized I’ll write about it.

The goals for my first milestone were done.

On June 28, the results of the 1st evaluation were declared. I had finally passed the first evaluation. But I did know beforehand that I’d be passing the evaluation as I had already spoken about it with Brad and Marc. Both of them had given me positive feedback regarding it.

Nonetheless, I’ll describe very briefly what the evaluation was. Both the stuent and the mentors were to fill out an evaluation form. The mentor had to give an evaluation of how well the student had performed, and if he/she should pass or not, and the student had to answer a few questions about their GSoC experience and how well they were able to communicate with the mentors.

Phase 1 went pretty smoothly. There were a few ups and downs, but I’ve the got possibly the best mentors ever who guided me through the whole process. I got to know about Swift, it’s coding format and style. I learnt a lot about building frameworks through my mentors’ answers to my questions. I observes=d how they think about the features to implement and what kind of implementation would be best for both the developer and the end user of the product.

This was the feedback I received from my mentors. It was a really great motivator for me and I want to give my best now more than ever.

I hope the rest of the summers stays on to be the great experience I’ve had till now.

I’ve worked on implementing Histogram since then, and I also seem to have made some progress on the Data Input front. I’ll talk about any further developments in the next post.

See you next time!

#gsoc #tensorflow #swiftlang #s4tf #open-source

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