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Thread beginning with comment 269315
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Member since:
I must have missed it too, it's not been released yet as far as I can see, or am I missing something?
I hope the rumors about 8.42 are right, maybe I can finally get some decent framerates, picture quality etc. out of my x850
Any sign of xvmc support?
Reply Parent Score: 1
smitty Member since:
8.41 is supposed to be released next week, i think.
Any sign of xvmc support?
Probably not, but maybe the reverse engineers can focus on that now that they've released the specs to the 3d pipeline.
Reply Parent Score: 2 |
global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/24931 | Member Login
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"My Teacher Hates Me!"
How to react when when your child comes home complaining that the teacher doesn't like him
By Lynn Petrak
© iStockphoto
How should you react when when your child comes home complaining that the teacher doesn't like him? First, don't overlook the possibility of a misunderstanding, a rough day, or even bad behavior on your child's part. But sometimes, certain kids and teachers just don't click. What you can do:
Talk to your child. "Explain that over the years, he's going to have teachers with different styles -- and he still has to try his best," says Ron Clark, author of The Essential 55: An Award-Winning Educator's Rules for Discovering the Successful Student in Every Child. "Don't be negative about the teacher in your home, either."
Try to get involved. "Visit the class to see what's going on. Offer to chaperone trips. The teacher may end up being more supportive because you're taking interest," says Clark.
Schedule a meeting. If your child's complaints persist, or if you're unhappy with what you're hearing from his teacher, ask if you can set up a conference. But respect the teacher's point of view, and don't accuse her of anything. Try to brainstorm ways for your child's school experience to be more positive.
Approach the principal as a last resort. Involve the higher-ups only if you're seriously concerned about your child's education, and tell the teacher what you're doing first.
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Name of my story Where Could Kitty Be?
Who is the story about? A little girl named Elizabeth
Description Elizabeth wakes up in the middle of the night and discovers that her favorite stuffed toy, Kitty, has gone missing. She uses her trusty flashlight to search her darkened room a dn find her errant friend.
Who else is in the story? Kitty, Elizabeth's favorite stuffed animal.
Where are they? In Elizabeth's darkened bedroom in the middle of the night.
What are they doing? Elizabeth is looking for Kitty. She searches all around her room, including the scary places like the closet and under the bed.
Why are they doing that? She misses Kitty and wants a cuddle from him.
What happens to everyone? Elizabeth uses her trusty flashlight to search her room for kitty. As she looks around in the dark, she sees many shadowy objects that could be Kitty. Shining her flashlight on them allows her to see them as they really are, not just as she imagines them to be. For instance, she sees a shadow in the corner that seems to be Kitties, but it turns out just to be a little potted flower. The closet may have a monster in it, but the light scares it away so she can look for Kitty safely.
What's your favorite part of the story? Many children have the experience of being in the dark and being unsure of what they are seeing. It's easy for the imagination to transform everyday objects. this can be frightening, so I like the idea that things which may seem frightening in the dark are actually familiar and safe.
What would you build out of LEGO® DUPLO® blocks to bring your story to life? Children could build the flashlight, Kitty and some of the object found in the story, such as a little pot of flowers or not-so-scary closet monster. It would be fun if page turns were designed in a such a way that the child could build the object in order to find out what Elizabeth was really seeing. For example, an illustration could show the shadow of kitty, then the child could build the flowerpot before turning the page to find out that is what is causing the shadow.
19 Celebrities with ADHD
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global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/24938 |
The Gospel of Mark, written c. 65-70 C.E., is the earliest of the four gospels (even being edited and reused as a source text for the Gospels of Luke and Matthew), and offers a unique perspective among the gospels on the meaning of discipleship and following Jesus. [1] Mark places heavy emphasis on the suffering(s) and death of Jesus, and understands true Christian discipleship in terms of literally following Jesus’ example through experiencing and enduring suffering and persecution for the gospel (Mark 8.34; 10.28). For Mark, Jesus’ suffering and death is brought about by Jesus’ “life-praxis of solidarity with the social and religious outcasts of his society” (317), and so a true Christian disciple in her effort to follow Jesus can expect the same types reactions and experiences. Moreover, these persecutions and sufferings are not to be avoided or evaded, because these experiences, in turn, provide further opportunity for the proclaiming of the gospel. Additionally, discipleship, and specifically the discipleship of community (church) leaders, according to Mark, is altruistic, where the “greatest” is really to be the least since she serves all others in the community (Mark 9.33-37; 10.41-45). Community leaders, as represented by the twelve, are not to be rulers, but “children” or “slaves,” the most powerless and subordinate positions in the ancient Greco-Roman household. Jesus’ death is seen as the liberating “ransom” that sets “many” persons free. Thus, ironically, “Jesus’ death–understood as the liberation of many people–prohibits any relationship of dominance and submission.” (318)
Mark, however, consistently portrays the twelve as misunderstanding Jesus’ identity, his “suffering messiahship and his call to suffering discipleship,” and the altruistic “ministerial service” that is required in the community of disciples. (319) After Judas betrays Jesus, the remaining eleven eventually forsake Jesus during his passion and flee for safety. Even Peter, the leading member of Jesus’ inner circle of the twelve, denies him.
However, Jesus is followed during his passion by certain women followers. The discipleship of these faithful women who are willing to suffer and endure persecution–and perhaps even death given their association with Jesus–powerfully contrasts with Jesus’ abandonment by the twelve. It is the female followers of Jesus who take up the cross and follow him to his death (Mark 8.34; 10.28). Mark presents these women as exemplifying true Christian discipleship over and against the twelve. This is because these women have genuine “faith,” the power, according to Mark, that is necessary to enable one to persist amidst suffering and persecution for Jesus and the gospel. Mark 15.41 stresses the true discipleship of these women by utilizing two verbs used elsewhere in the gospel to characterize faithful discipleship. In this verse these women “followed” him (cf. Mark 8.34; 10.28) and “ministered” to him (c.f. Mark 10.41-45; this verb, in fact, underlies the entirety of Jesus’ ministry, as well as the type of leadership required among God’s community).
The presentation of women as true disciples in the Gospel of Mark is further evidenced at the beginning and end of the passion narrative. I conclude with the following quote by feminist biblical scholar Elisabeth Schussler Fiorenza:
It is a woman who recognizes Jesus’ suffering messiahship and, in a prophetic-sign action, anoints Jesus for his burial, while “some” of the disciples reprimand her. Further, it is a servant woman who challenges Peter to act on his promise not to betray Jesus. In doing so she unmasks and exposes him for what he is, a betrayer. Finally, two women, Mary of Magdala and Mary (the mother) of Joses, witness the place where Jesus was buried (15:47), and three women receive the news of his resurrection (16:1-8). Thus at the end of Mark’s Gospel the women disciples emerge as examples of suffering discipleship and true leadership. They are the apostolic eye-witnesses of Jesus’ death, burial, and resurrection…They preserve the messianic identity of the crucified and resurrected Lord which is entrusted to the circle of the disciples…Those who are the farthest from the center of religious and political power, the slaves, the children, the gentiles, the women, become the paradigms of true discipleship. (321, 322, 323)
[1] The following analysis is based on the work of feminist biblical scholar Elisabeth Schusser Fiorenza. See her book entitled In Memory of Her: A Feminist Theological Reconstruction of Christian Origins. (New York: The Crossroad Publishing Co., 1988), pgs. 316-323.
• http://www.approachingjustice.wordpress.com Chris H.
Women still are the true disciples.
Thanks TYD.
• http://iammullingandmusing.blogspot.com m&m
Beautiful post. Thank you.
• http://juvenileinstructor.org David G.
Me gusta means I like it. Thanks TYD.
• JTJ
TYD, how do you counter the argument from Ehrman regarding Mark’s motif of using women as figures used to emphasize theology and not as actual historical figures. See http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dQCrqLs2aJs&feature=related around 3:30 into the debate for the intro, and around 5:00 for Ehrman’s comments.
• http://www.faithpromotingrumor.com The Yellow Dart
I just listened to the relevant sections of Professor Ehrman’s statements from the link that you have provided.
I don’t have much time at present so I will be brief. My initial reaction to what Professor Ehrman has said would be to suggest that the list of resurrection witnesses that Paul adduces in 1 Corinthians 15.3-7–which list contains no mention of the female witnesses of the resurrection, as Ehrman states–is a formulaic or stereotyped list that would have been used by Paul and other early Christian missionaries in their public proclamation(s) of the gospel message, and for this reason would most likely have kept women witnesses off of the list since in such public proclamation situations a woman’s testimony would have had little validity or credibility to many listeners. I think it is also historically significant that all of the gospels have a woman/women as first witness(es) of the tomb and resurrection. This is significant because both the Synoptic Gospels and John, which are literarily independent of one another, both contain this tradition.
Best wishes,
• http://thesundaypage.net jondh
I would also add that historicity is beside the point in this case. Whether or not women really were the first witnesses of the resurrection (I think they were) or whether they really were more receptive than the twelve (if this is true then Mark probably overstates this), the point is that Mark makes a valid theological point about women being spiritually receptive. It’s not what women really did with Jesus but how women respond to the gospel message and their function in the kingdom of God.
• http://iammullingandmusing.blogspot.com m&m
I sent this to a good friend who is a feminist, who has also studied women in the scriptures extensively, and she pointed out that this all goes a bit extreme — in the sense of making women better than the apostles.
I think she makes good points, and so while I really did like the ideas of how much women were involved and how dedicated they were, I agree with my friend that it’s probably looking beyond the mark a bit to say that the women were better than the apostles. I hadn’t noticed that as much the first time I read.
• http://www.faithpromotingrumor.com The Yellow Dart
Nothing you said really interacts in any specific way with what the post says. Feel free to have your friend participate here if she/he is interested!
Best wishes, |
global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/24940 | Pedicures and Pumpkin Lattes
5 things
Did you know, that at $4.75, seven Pumpkin Spice Lattes cost you about $35. Maybe you’re at Starbucks right now, fueling up before a Saturday afternoon pedicure. That pedicure is going to be another $35. While you’re relaxing in the seat using your $35 per month data plan, your best friend texts you to set [Read More...] |
global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/24952 |
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Don't discard data with your old PC
Render an old hard drive's files unreadable the easy way.
Data thieves don't have to be programming wizards to get their hands on your personal information. They often find hard drives containing sensitive data at jumble sales, car boots, charity shops, the council tip and even on eBay – netting them a real bargain.
Reformatting a drive or deleting its partition doesn't completely remove its files. Which is great, if you haven't kept up to date with backups – not so great if you're getting rid of an old PC. While putting files in the Recycle Bin makes them unreadable to Windows, it's no good if you forget to empty it. And if you did, the files are still recoverable with special software.
I destroy my old data using a block-erasure utility such as DBAN. This clever application overwrites each block on a computer's hard drive several times.
DBAN can create either a bootable floppy disk or an ISO file that you burn to a CD. Once you boot up from the startup disk – you may have to tweak your startup settings to boot from the floppy or CD – just a few keystrokes will begin destroying your data.
The Secure Erase Utility uses the Disk Drive Secure Erase command built into every modern hard drive's firmware. The wipe is incredibly fast and it can do the whole job in half the time of a block-erasure utility.
Get hammered
Commercial shredding companies use huge grinders to shred discarded drives into tiny bits. And security-minded consumers who want to be certain that their old disks are unusable have been known to chop them in half with an axe or drive nails through them.
A (marginally) less extreme approach is to give the outdated hard drive a few whacks with a sledgehammer. We recommend you wear safety glasses and that you warn any neighbours within earshot that you're about to embark on a stress-relieving bout of violence.
Encrypt and delete
Encrypting files on your hard drive prevents unauthorised access to your information, but you can use the technology to ensure that the files you delete aren't recoverable.
If you encrypt a file before you delete it then a file-recovery utility may be able to restore the encrypted version of the file, but the utility won't be able to decrypt it.
To use XP Pro's built-in encryption, right-click the files or folders you want to encrypt, choose Properties, Advanced, tick Encrypt contents to secure data, then click ok. You can encrypt any files except system files. Select all the folders on the C drive – except the Windows folder – and everything inside will be encrypted. Any files you later place in the folders will be encrypted automatically.
XP automatically creates a unique encryption key if you use this feature. But if you damage your installation of Windows without backing up the keys, it will be impossible to decrypt those files. If you choose to encrypt your files this way, you needn't run a secure erase tool to ensure your privacy: just delete the partition and format the drive.
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global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/24953 | 10. Use Multiple Monitors
Windows 8 adds some nifty tricks for using multiple monitors. For the first time, you can span a single desktop background (aka "wallpaper") across multiple monitors. You can also have a task bar on all your monitors, and open the Start screen from any of them, and even have different wallpapers on each. The corner hotspots are enlarged for multiple monitor setups, so you don't have to move your mouse all the way to the rightmost corner of the rightmost screen to invoke the control Charms—just move it to the corner of the monitor its on. Note that you can only run a new-style app on one display in a multi-monitor setup.
11. Navigate the Two IEs
Duality is something you need to get used to if you switch to Windows 8, and Internet Explorer is a prime case in point. The full-screen, new-style incarnation of Internet Explorer 10 is the one you'll see when you press the blue "e" tile from the start screen, and according to our security expert, Fahmida Y. Rashid, you're well advised to use this one. That's because new IE doesn't use plugins such as Java, which has recently been the subject of vulnerability news. You'll need to get used to the way full-screen IE works: A right-click opens the address bar at the bottom, and typing into that opens tiles for pinned and frequently visited sites.
12. Set Up Child Accounts
If you're sharing your PC with your offspring, Windows 8 offers an easy way to set up Child accounts that let you block websites and set time limits for usage. After choosing Add User in the Users section of the new-style PC Settings page, you'll enter an email address for the child's account, and then check the "Is this a child's account…" check box. You'll then get a Welcome to Family Safety email in the account you use to log into the PC with. This email links to a page where you can set the website and app filtering options and how often you want usage report emails.
13. Don't Shut Down
People used to complain that it was counter-intuitive that you had to shut Windows down from the Start button, but in Windows 8, the shut-down option is even more obfuscated: It's found in the Settings Charm, under Power. This button lets you truly shut down, but also offers Sleep and Restart. The reason this option is far from the surface is that Microsoft doesn't want you to fully shut the PC down. Just closing the top of a laptop or hitting the power button on a tablet will put the device into a very-low-power sleep state. If the battery is near dead, Windows will actually shut completely down. Desktop users will have to go through the Settings, Power menus, or just let the machine sleep after a period of idleness based on the desktop Power Options plan. Just type "power options" from the start menu to open the desktop Control Panel and choose "Change when the computer sleeps" to adjust this timeout.
14. Refresh Your PC
Though Windows 8 is noticeably faster than its predecessors, Microsoft has added an automated way to get your PC back to a pristine, speedy condition. The "Refresh your PC without affecting your files" option is found in the new-style control panel near the bottom of the General section. One drawback to this, though, is that you'll lose your desktop apps, though new-style apps will be saved. Then again, if you've bought a new PC with a load of preinstalled software you don't want, this tool is a boon. An even more drastic approach is the "Remove everything and reinstall Windows" option just below the refresh choice. It's a big help for when you want to pass the PC on to a new owner. You can read about the details of both processes in my article How to Refresh or Reset Your Windows 8 PC.
15. Use Windows 8's Built-In Backup and Archive Tool—File History
Windows has for years had a Backup feature, but this time around, Windows 8's new File History feature gives users something akin to the Mac's Time Machine. File History by default saves copies every hour of everything in your Libraries (Documents, Music, Pictures, Videos), desktop, contacts, and favorites. You can use an external or network drive. After setting up File History, you'll be able to retrieve any previous version of a file saved at the hourly interval. You can preview the earlier versions in the restore dialog and either replace the existing file with the backup version or keep both, by choosing "Compare info for both files." |
global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/24968 | note Tanktalus <p>Have you ever played a game of telephone? I doubt you know Jews that were forced into exile - but perhaps their descendants. Who have been coloured by the same myths about their ancestry as the rest of us.</p> <p>There's no doubt that the Inquisition did some nasty things. And that anti-Semitism was rampant throughout the middle ages (which later developed into letting the Nazi Holocaust to be permitted in Germany). And that the two got intermingled. However, you're judging the Inquisition based on today's standards. It's like saying that the middle ages was slow because it took days to get from city to city when we can travel around the world in 36 hours. You need to take things in context - the inquisition was still the most enlightened court system in Europe <b>at the time</b></p> <p>And I take your history book challenge. Now take mine.</p> <p>(PS - Wikipedia is written by amateurs, so I'm not going to take its word seriously since those who are convinced by the myths of the inquisition will consistantly and constantly edit out modern historical data in much the same way I'm consistantly and constantly downvoted for speaking the truth against such a popular myth.)</p> 504121 504692 |
global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/24970 | note TomDLux <p>While many people do use regular expressions, I think that's like using an M16 to crack walnuts.</p> <p>R.E. are the appropriate solution when you have variable components, but testing a constant string is precisely what 'eq' is for.</p> <!-- Node text goes above. Div tags should contain sig only --> <div class="pmsig"><div class="pmsig-144696"> <p> As Occam said: <em>Entia non sunt multiplicanda praeter necessitatem.</em> </p> </div></div> 968838 968850 |
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The stupid question is the question not asked
Re: My preferred source of caffeine is...
by karisma (Scribe)
on Jul 27, 2004 at 13:35 UTC ( #377728=note: print w/ replies, xml ) Need Help??
in reply to My preferred source of caffeine is...
Due to my tendency to free association this reminds me of the time this wacko doctor told my boyfriend he should drink coke because the cocaine in it helps with certain bathroom problems. Obviously the doctor was confused....
Imagine what the programmers of the world would be like if coke still contained cocaine....did the original coke have caffeine in it too?
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Think about Loose Coupling
Re: Apparent Inconsistencies in Perl Function Naming
by Jonathan (Curate)
on Nov 24, 2000 at 17:57 UTC ( #43214=note: print w/ replies, xml ) Need Help??
in reply to Apparent Inconsistencies in Perl Function Naming
Guess I'm in the queue for a CAT scan princepawn. To my mind Larry has named functions well. To a degree it is a matter of opinion - perhaps even background. But I don't accept your arguments on the length function (which seems to have been inherited from awk anyway), 'length' does what it says on the tin and returns the length of a scalar value. While the 'scalar' operator forces scalar context - it is not a function to return the number of elements in a list. The same thing can be said for your second example you are looking at it from two sides - scalar and list
BTW do you never tire of playing the devil's advocate? ;-)
When I grow up I want to be a boy genius
My son Harry
Comment on Re: Apparent Inconsistencies in Perl Function Naming
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Perl Monk, Perl Meditation
word similarity measure
by karey3341 (Initiate)
on Feb 27, 2009 at 16:18 UTC ( #746935=perlquestion: print w/ replies, xml ) Need Help??
karey3341 has asked for the wisdom of the Perl Monks concerning the following question:
If my data looks like this:
word 1: 100 101 101 102 102 102 106 106
word 2: 101 104 106 110 113 129 131 148
word 3: 101 153 175 180 381
word 4: 106 110 113 122 131 137 142 148
word 5: 120 165 169
Where word 1,2,3,4,5 represent different words, numbers represent a list of paper those words have been used as keywords.
How can I calculate similarity between these words?
Comment on word similarity measure
Re: word similarity measure
by tilly (Archbishop) on Feb 27, 2009 at 16:32 UTC
Or perhaps Vector Space
Re: word similarity measure
by bruno (Friar) on Feb 27, 2009 at 16:32 UTC
Do you know the words, or are they unknown to you?
Do you assume that, because two words appeared in the same paper, they must be identical or similar in some way?
What do you mean by 'keywords', and 'papers'? Do they have the same meaning as in scientific research, where 'paper' is a scientific article and 'keyword' is a research subject, organism of interest, or method?
Re: word similarity measure
by kennethk (Monsignor) on Feb 27, 2009 at 16:33 UTC
Ignoring subtleties about how you may have developed your keyword->index mapping, the easiest way to measure the similarity would be to generate a hash with your word identifiers as keys and then brute force a similarity array. Something like:
@counts = (); for $i_word (1 .. $#words) { for $j_word (0 .. $i_word-1) { $count[$i_word][$j_word] = 0; foreach (keys %{$paper{$i_word}}) { if (exists $paper{$j_word}{$_} { $count[$i_word][$j_word]++; } } } }
If you aren't familiar with lists of lists, take a gander at perllol.
Re: word similarity measure
by Old_Gray_Bear (Bishop) on Feb 27, 2009 at 16:56 UTC
You need to define what you mean by "similarity".
At first glance words 1, 2. and 4 are 'similar' since they each have the same number of sub-components. A second glance reveals that words 1, 2, and 3 are 'similar' - they each contain '101'. And words 2 and 4 are 'similar', they are the only words that contain 148 and 131.
I suspect that once you have defined your terms, you will be able to write a function that takes two words and returns the degree of 'similarity' between them. Once you have all of the pair-wise ratings computed, sort() will let you rank the papers from most alike to least.
This sounds like the kind of problem a plagiarism detector is designed for.
I Go Back to Sleep, Now.
If, in fact, that is what the OP is after, s/he may benefit from looking at the nodes mentioned here: Re: Finding plagarized content.
Update: I rather think, OTOH, that the OP may be looking for something more like Ted Pedersen's SenseClusters (more)...
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Your skill will accomplish
what the force of many cannot
Copy files by date modified
by svetho (Beadle)
on Jun 04, 2009 at 07:19 UTC ( #768319=snippet: print w/ replies, xml ) Need Help??
use strict;
use warnings;
use File::Path;
use File::Basename;
use File::Spec;
use File::Copy;
use Cwd;
use Getopt::Long;
# make output unbuffered
$| = 1;
my $path = getcwd;
my $mtime = 1;
my $dest;
my $verbose = '';
my $showhelp = '';
my $result = GetOptions("source=s" => \$path,
"mtime=i" => \$mtime,
"dest=s" => \$dest,
"help" => \$showhelp,
"verbose" => \$verbose);
# print "\$path = $path\n\$mtime = $mtime\n\$dest = $dest\n\$showhelp
+= $showhelp\n\$verbose = $verbose\n";
# exit(0);
my $usage = "Usage: $0 --dest <destination-path>\n\t" .
"[--source <source-path> | --mtime <mtime> | --verbose] [
+--help]\n\t" .
"Type $0 --help for more information.";
my $help = <<EOHELP;
$0 - Copy file hierarchies selectively
based on their modification times
-s | --source=SourceDir Source path. Default: pwd
-m | --mtime mtime (see man find). Default: 1
-d | --dest=DestDir Destination path. Mandatory option.
-h | --help Print this help screen.
-v | --verbose Be more verbose. Default: false
if ($showhelp) {
print $help;
unless ($dest) {
die "$usage\n";
# remove trailing slash from $dest
$dest =~ s/\/$//;
my $find = "find $path -type f -mtime -$mtime";
my @files = `$find`;
my %dirs_created;
foreach (@files) {
# debug
my ($filename, $directories, $suffix) = fileparse($_);
my $new_dir = File::Spec->canonpath(File::Spec->catdir($dest, $dir
unless (exists $dirs_created{$new_dir}) {
$dirs_created{$new_dir} = mkpath($new_dir);
print "Created $new_dir\n" if $verbose;
copy($_, File::Spec->catfile($new_dir, "$filename$suffix"));
print File::Spec->catfile($new_dir, "$filename$suffix") . "\n" if
Comment on Copy files by date modified
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Re: Copy files by date modified
by dwhite20899 (Pilgrim) on Jun 08, 2009 at 00:59 UTC
Hi, svetho!
I also needed a date-modified mode for rsync, so I don't think you missed something there.
I was downloading ISO files into various subdirectories of /home/me/isos and wanted to rsync occasionally, but didn't want to waste time on dirs I already had done.
I wrote a script that "touch"ed a file when it exited, to set the date it was last run. I don't have the code handy, but it went like:
$f = `find /home/me/isos -type f -iname '*iso' `; @imlist = split(/\n/,$f); $touchtime = -M ".touch_sem"; for $image (@imlist) { if ($touchtime <= -M "$image") { #rsync } } `touch .touch_sem `;
what about the --modify-window option in rsync?
Re: Copy files by date modified
by sabari (Beadle) on Sep 23, 2009 at 06:13 UTC
Best Regards, S.Sabarinathan,
Re: Copy files by date modified
by Anonymous Monk on Nov 26, 2010 at 08:50 UTC
what heaven...??
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Storing simple Value Pairs
by raybies (Chaplain)
on Oct 19, 2011 at 18:39 UTC ( #932460=perlquestion: print w/ replies, xml ) Need Help??
raybies has asked for the wisdom of the Perl Monks concerning the following question:
Suppose I want an array of value pairs, suppose for the sake of arguments, vertices, like X,Y (though, they don't have to be numeric types, I'm thinking generic pairs). I want to keep the list of vertices in a list.
What's the best way to store/organize them in perl?
It seems so wasteful to use an array of hashes (key/value) for a single pair, with key names like X and Y.
%pair = ( X => 12, Y => 10); #then keep in a list like this... $pairlist[0] = \%pair;
And using the first (X) value as a key wouldn't work if you needed to repeat the value.
%pair = (12 => 10); # no list required, but then (12,10) and then (12,5) wouldn't work...
Of course, a simple array of arrays would work...
@pair = (12,10); #with a list assigned like... $pairlist[0] = \@pair;
I guess I'm curious what y'all do?
I mean, besides making an object, which is a pain for something this simple, especially if I don't supplement my Perl with something like Moose, which I don't... (well maybe it's not a pain for you... but I'm pretty weak there...) ;)
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Re: Storing simple Value Pairs
by jeffa (Chancellor) on Oct 19, 2011 at 18:43 UTC
I do not feel that using a hash here is wasteful whatsoever, so i would comfortably use a hash to store these values. They are called X and Y, after all, and not 0 and 1. I certainly would have no aversion to using a Moose object either.
has X => ( is => 'rw' ); has Y => ( is => 'rw' );
(the triplet paradiddle with high-hat)
...perhaps if Moose were core, I wouldn't have a problem with it either, but at this point, installation is quite labor intensive (network airgap), and an assortment of firewalls hurdles...
Re: Storing simple Value Pairs
by pvaldes (Hermit) on Oct 19, 2011 at 18:44 UTC
what about a simple list? i.e.:
my @list = ('23/34', '34/56', '45/01');
is trivial to convert this to the original pair with split, sort the list, etc
foreach $pair(@list){ my ($x,$y) = split /\//, $pair, 2; print $y," is paired with ", $x, "\n"; } __END__ 34 is paired with 23 56 is paired with 34 01 is paired with 45
Re: Storing simple Value Pairs
by ikegami (Pope) on Oct 19, 2011 at 18:45 UTC
It's only wasteful if you need the memory for something else. The AoA sounds right, although I'd write it as
$pairlist[0] = [ 12, 10 ];
Re: Storing simple Value Pairs
by BrowserUk (Pope) on Oct 19, 2011 at 18:48 UTC
I see no disadvantages with an AoA:
#! perl -slw use strict; use constant { X=>0, Y=>1 }; my @pairs = map[ int( rand 1000 ), int( rand 1000 ) ], 1 .. 1000; print join ' : ', $pairs[ 999 ][X], $pairs[ 999 ][Y]; print join ' : ', @{ $pairs[ 500 ] }; __END__ C:\test>junk22 935 : 575 669 : 471
Do you?
In the absence of evidence, opinion is indistinguishable from prejudice.
Re: Storing simple Value Pairs
by Marshall (Prior) on Oct 19, 2011 at 18:54 UTC
What's the best way to store/organize them in perl?
That depends upon how you want to access the data. Looks to me like you pretty much understand the options. The 2-D AoA is a logical choice if you just need a sequential list of coordinates.
The AoH is also commonly done (your option 1). "Wasteful" or not is a subjective thing. For something simple this can take less storage than you might think. This is similar to a C array of struct.
In your option (2), use HoA (hash of array) instead of a simple hash if you want to represent more than one point with the same X value. I would make all of the hash entries pointers to array (not do some as simple values if only one) just to make things more "regular" and eliminate special case.
Re: Storing simple Value Pairs
by raybies (Chaplain) on Oct 19, 2011 at 19:02 UTC
Thanks to all Monks! Lots of interesting possibilities suggested. I guess sometimes I get a bit wrapped around nesting too many perl structs, but I like how many suggestions you've given to how to organize it better. As always I bow to your enlightenment. :)
Example, say I have these 4 files/tables:
ID value (table1)
Aa 22
Bb 28
Cc 32
Dd 50
ID value (table2)
Aa 34
Cc 112
Dd 77
Ee 89
Kk 124
ID value (table3)
Bb 75
Cc 91
Dd 132
ID value (table4)
Aa 66
Cc 94
Ee 213
Gg 250
The output after joining should look like this:
ID value1 value2 value3 value4
Aa 22 34 0 66
Bb 28 0 75 0
Cc 32 112 91 94
Dd 50 77 132 0
Ee 0 89 0 213
Gg 0 0 0 250
Kk 0 124 0 0
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Thanks! The ...->interps ... works great on the Linux side with X11. Thought maybe there was a data structure in the Perl interpreter which could be queried for all of the windows so it was OS independent. Sounds like not. Appreciate all of the help!!! Thanks!
In reply to Re^2: TK Toplevel Window List by Anonymous Monk
in thread TK Toplevel Window List by Anonymous Monk
and: <code> code here </code>
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Hi, my question is two folded:
1. What is the difference between ${$x."::VERSION"} and ${"$x::VERSION"}?
2. Why is $y undefined in the first example?
3. Why does perl think $y is a filehandle in the second example?
perl -MFile::Find -we '$x='File::Find'; print ${ $y = "$x::VERSION" } +print $y'
perl -MFile::Find -we '$x='File::Find'; print ${ $y = $x."::VERSION" } + print $y'
In reply to computed symbolic references by valentin
and: <code> code here </code>
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Re: Problem with Expect
by clemburg (Curate)
on Nov 09, 2001 at 14:34 UTC ( #124323=note: print w/ replies, xml ) Need Help??
in reply to Problem with Expect
Hm, I don't know about a Perl way of doing this (simply never had a need to do this in Perl), but the real Expect tool has the "interact" command for doing this.
See "Exploring Expect" (ISBN 1565920902) by Don Libes, page 8, section "Partial Automation".
Hm, seems like the Expect Perl module has also an "interact()" method ...
Christian Lemburg
Brainbench MVP for Perl
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global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/24980 | sitefaqlet SiteDocClan <!-- 2005-08-29 [jdporter] created --> <h1>How does editing work in the [id://954] section?</h1> <p> Whenever someone creates a Tutorial-type writeup (using the form at the bottom of the [id://954] page), it automatically appears in the [id://519201] category of [id://954]. </p><p> The only thing remaining is to give it a permanent home in an appropriate category. The people with this ability are the [Pedagogues]. Therefore, if it seems like they're taking their sweet time pidgeonholing a tutorial, feel free to tickle them via <tt>[msg://Pedagogues]</tt>. If possible, please include the name of the existing [Tutorials] category in which you believe the given tutorial would be most appropriate. </p> <p> Note: [Pedagogues] do not have the power to modify tutorial posts in any way. For that, all the standard [id://17688|moderation] and [id://92975|consideration] procedures apply. </p> <hr/> <h3>If you're a [Pedagogues|Pedagogue]:</h3> <p> <ol> <li> Go to the [id://954] page. You should see the new tutorial listed in the [id://519201] section. </li> <li> Click the header of the section into which the new tutorial is to be added. (For example, <b>[id://519264]</b>.) </li> <li> Click the "Edit" link in the upper right. </li> <li> Type/paste the node id — <b>just the ID</b> — into the next available slot in the list, and click the "submit below" button. </li> </ol> See [id://587754] for more details. </p> <hr/><i>Return to [PerlMonks FAQ]</i> |
global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/24981 | modulereview BoredByPolitics <h2>++</h2> <p><b>Extremely</b> flexible handling of both configuration files, and commandline parameters. <p><b>Four</b> parameter types - boolean, scalar, array and hash. <p><b>As</b> each parameter is defined it can have various properties set, including DEFAULT setting, ACTION to take on use, VALIDATE based on regex or sub result, various types of variable EXPANDing, variable name ALIASes. <p><b>The</b> properties DEFAULT, ACTION, VALIDATE, and EXPAND can be set globally as well as local to a parameter. <p><b>Can</b> handle multiple sources of configuration file, including filehandles. <h2>--</h2> <p><b>VALIDATEs</b> which use a sub don't appear to trigger the return of a false value from the arg() method, although a warning to the user is printed. <p><b>ACTIONs</b> cannot alter the value they're attached to, as this sets up a circular reference. <h2>Overall</h2> <p><b>An</b> extremely useful module which, although it takes a bit of time to get to know, is well worth the extra effort. The Swiss Army Knife of Config Param modules |
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RE: (jcwren) RE: The path to mastery
by lindex (Friar)
on Aug 06, 2000 at 18:29 UTC ( #26428=note: print w/ replies, xml ) Need Help??
in reply to (jcwren) RE: The path to mastery
in thread The path to mastery
Why not write ultra tight code if you document it well?
If your co-workers read your documentation then they will understand
Maybe even learn something?
Just a thought
Comment on RE: (jcwren) RE: The path to mastery
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by larsen (Parson) on Aug 07, 2000 at 12:02 UTC
Why not write self-documenting code?
see you
When you write any documentation you have to assume some level of information that the future reader might have on the subject. Obviously this is not only a problem with Perl.
My first comments are nearly useless to me now (or just plain stupid). But on the other hand those scribblings are self-documenting because they are that simple. Nowadays, though I am far from beeing really good, I want to include pod in my code and when I think the code may be used or reviewed by a complete novice I add comments of the redundant form.
I wrote I want to, but it still is an excercise in self discipline. It is far quicker to just enter a few comments.
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The Soul has Bandaged moments --
Written by: Emily Dickinson | Biography
| Quotes (91) |
The Soul has Bandaged moments --
When too appalled to stir --
She feels some ghastly Fright come up
And stop to look at her --
Salute her -- with long fingers --
Caress her freezing hair --
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When bursting all the doors --
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And swings upon the Hours,
As do the Bee -- delirious borne --
Long Dungeoned from his Rose --
Touch Liberty -- then know no more,
But Noon, and Paradise --
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global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/25088 | Pain Of Salvation - Scarsick CD (album) cover
Pain Of Salvation
Progressive Metal
3.16 | 456 ratings
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4 stars This album gets a lot of serious flak from fans and non-fans alike. And I can understand why it might: coming off the terrific trio of The Perfect Element Part I (to which this album is thematically linked), Remedy Lane, and BE, this one does seem like a serious step backwards in terms of complexity, progginess, and all the general sorts of things that prog fans want in an album. But what it really is is a step forward, or at least forward and sideways, into an area that prog bands tend to try to avoid.
Progressive music has always sought to incorporate other musical styles into itself. Jazz, blues, classical, metal, electronica, folk, and so forth have found their way into countless albums. But someone had to try it first, try to include it within the context of the prog they were producing. And that is exactly what Pain of Salvation does here. They take a leap and try some new infusions of ideas. Except, instead of adding complexity in the manner of jazz, Pain of Salvation brings in punk, disco, hip hop, nu metal, and sceamo. Some of it doesn't quite work, I understand that. Some of the music just ends up sounding fairly average. The disco, I feel, works perfectly, creating what might be the most progressive song I've heard in a long time, namely the deep, innuendoed Disco Queen. The screamo is kind of iffy to me, working kind of weakly on Flame to the Moth.
But the point is that Pain of Salvation tried something new. This album, while the overall quality might be better reflected by three stars, is getting an extra one from me for sacrificing prog in the face of progression. Sure, the time signatures might not be that complex. Rap gets a terrible review from most every prog fan, but here, the band has turned what is often an inane genre into something that carries power, meaning, and purpose. Some critics assault the lyrics, especially on the first few songs, labeling them as stupid and immature. And they are. And that's the point. Unfortunately, unlike BE, in this case the concept does drag down the quality of the music, at least in the lyric regard.
All in all, a very intelligent effort from the band, but not necessarily a great one. Fans of Pain of Salvation will find something to like here, for certain, but I'd say it's a terrible place to start. Unless, of course, you are just that big a fan of disco.
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Tax Myths: It's Not as Bad as You Think
By Morris, Charles R. | Commonweal, October 22, 2010 | Go to article overview
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Tax Myths: It's Not as Bad as You Think
Morris, Charles R., Commonweal
Recently, when speaking to a number of businessmen, I came to realize how convinced they were that America is a high-tax country, which just happens not to be so. But, then, almost everything that everyone, liberals and conservatives alike, thinks about taxes is not so. Here are a few of the standard myths.
Myth 1: Americans Pay High Taxes Each year, the OECD (Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development), a research group sponsored by the thirty leading industrial countries, publishes an analysis of comparative tax burdens--taxes actually paid as a percent of the Gross Domestic Product. They include all taxes--sales, income, property, whatever, imposed by all levels of government. And they count actual tax revenues--in other words, they measure what governments do, not what they say.
The most recent data are for 2007. And guess what? The United States, as usual, ranked twenty-seventh out of the thirty, trailed only by Korea, Turkey, and Mexico. The total American tax burden is about 28 percent of GDP; the OECD median is about 36 percent; and the highest, in Denmark, is 48 percent.
Myth 2: Changing Tax Rates Changes Taxes The Congressional Budget Office has computed changes in "effective federal tax rates" for different income brackets over the twenty-five years through 2004, a period that included several major changes in the income-tax code. The table below charts the change in just federal income taxes actually paid by the wealthiest, the top 1 percent of earners, over that period. Very large changes in the federal income tax code clearly made very little difference in the income taxes actually paid.
Tax Environment Actual Income Tax Rate Paid by
Top 1%
1979: Top Rate 70% 22%
1982: Top Rate 50% 20%
1987: Top Rate 30% (fewer deductions) 22%
2000: Peak of Dot.com Boom 24% *
2004: After Two Bush Tax Cuts 20%
* The highest effective income tax rate paid by the top 1 percent over
the entire period
Effective Federal Tax Rate (Percent): All Federal Taxes
1979 1987 (1) 1994 (2) 2000 (3) 2004 (4)
Top 1% 37 31 36 33 31
Top 10% 30 27 29 29 27
Middle Quintile 19 18 17 15 14
Lowest Quintile 8 9 7 5 5
(1) Following Reagan 1986 Tax Reform Act.
(2) Following Clinton 1993 tax increases.
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global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/25117 | Romantic Frictions A Romantic Circles PRAXIS Volume About this Volume Theresa M. Kelley Romantic Circles General Editor, Neil Fraistat General Editor, Steven E. Jones Technical Editor Laura Mandell Praxis Editor Orrin N.C. Wang about Romantic Circles,, University of Maryland College Park, MD November 1, 2010
About this Volume Romantic Frictions: A Romantic Circles Praxis Volume Romantic Circles,, University of Maryland College Park, MD October 15, 2010
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About this volume
This volume of Romantic Circles Praxis Series includes an editor's introduction by Theresa M. Kelley, essays by Ian Duncan, Mary A. Favret, Daniel O’Quinn, Matthew Rowlinson, Colin Jager, and Jacques Khalip.
In recent decades skirmishes about how to read literature and culture have at times polarized critics, who find themselves identified, or identify themselves, with distinct critical dispositions toward either historicism or toward some version of poststructuralist writing, in particular deconstruction, supposed to be suspicious of historicism for espousing an empiricist, neo-positivist perspective on the past. What emerges from this standoff can seem comical or simply bizarre as one side imagines the other as its constitutive other, and as such productive of readings in which something is missing. Deconstructive and poststructural readers who ground their readings in philosophical argument and rhetorical nuance are at the very least bemused by the focus on detail in new historicist readings or the large gestures of cultural studies readings. In reply historicist and cultural critics find the lacunae in arguments from philosophical points of departure damaging to the lived temporality of writing and culture. Although this dispute animates more than one moment of literary study (it has become more marked in Victorian studies), its most sustained version has concerned Romanticism, understood variously since the 1980s as the disputed subject of new historicism and deconstruction.
Whatever else it is, Romanticism arises in a moment of extraordinary and divisive recognition of differences among races, peoples, and political programs. And at least since the 1980s, the era has remained the focus of critical dissent as deconstructive, new historicist and other critical arguments debated whose Romanticism was theirs. This debate has in turn helped to shape public understanding of how we read literature and culture now as an enterprise strangely and contentiously divided between thinking about the work of language or the character of historical difference as though each goal could be separated from the other. This opposition is strangely rigid, easy to caricature and, as importantly, easy to dismiss. What gets lost in this critical antagonism is the shimmer of historical and philosophical friction in Romanticism itself and in compelling Romantic criticism in the last decade.
Romantic Frictions emphasizes this important critical turn, which supposes that the pressure of Romantic difference is as much historical and cultural as it is philosophical and theoretical and that it is ongoing in critical discourse. So positioned, these essays address the rub of critical differences as the work at hand as well as the work that Romanticism itself frequently performed. Hearing critical voices rather than taking stands, these essays stage frictions that make Romanticism engaging for modern readers, precisely because this era and its modern critics remind us of the value of difference as the work of thought in time and culture. The essays in Romantic Frictions find in Romanticism what philosophical modernity has often found there: a disposition to recognize oppositions that cannot be squared or resolved precisely because they constitute the ongoing work of culture and writing. Such frictions are embedded in a shifting temporal moment whose inner complexity is similarly textured such that neither history nor philosophy assumes a master (and fictional) disguise. Both are instead crosscut and assembled in ways that sustain an inner friction that invites being read.
About the Design and Markup
This volume was TEI-encoded by David Rettenmaier and Michael Quilligan, site managers for Romantic Circles. Laura Mandell transformed the TEI files into HTML by using modified versions of the transforms provided by the TEI. TEI renders text archival quality for better preservation and future access. This is the first RCPS issue to be so encoded.
The image associated with this volume is "A Group of Stapelias" from Robert John Thornton's Temple of Flora, or, Garden of the botanist, poet, painter, and philosopher (1812). The original may be found here.
About the Romantic Circles Praxis Series
About the Contributors
[go to essay]
Mary A. Favret is Professor of English literature at Indiana University-Bloomington, where she specializes in literature and culture of the eighteenth-and nineteenth-centuries, especially British Romanticism. The author of Romantic Correspondence: Women, Politics and the Fiction of Letters (Cambridge, 1993) and co-editor of At the Limits of Romanticism (Indiana, 1994), she has published many scholarly articles, most recently in Modern Language Quarterly and English Literary History. She is curently at work on a book project about modern wartime in British Romanticism.
[go to essay]
Colin Jager is Associate Professor of English at Rutgers University, where he is currently co-director of the “Mind and Culture” seminar at the Center for Cultural Analysis. His articles have appeared in Modern Language Quarterly, Public Culture, Theory and Event, and Literature Compass. The Book of God: Secularization and Design in the Romantic Era (University of Pennsylvania Press) appeared in 2006. He edited "Secularism, Cosmopolitanism, and Romanticism" for Romantic Circles Praxis in 2008, and he has forthcoming articles on Charles Taylor, on literary enchantment, and on pedagogy.
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Theresa M. Kelley is Marjorie and Lorin Tiefenthaler Professor of English at University of Wisconsin, Madison. She is the author of Wordsworth’s Revisionary Aesthetics (Cambridge, 1988), co-editor with Paula Feldman of Voices and Countervoices: Romantic Women Writers (New England, 1995), and Reinventing Allegory (Cambridge, 1997), which won the South Central Modern Language Association award for best scholarly book of that year. Her articles have appeared in ELH, Studies in Romanticism, European Romantic Review, Nineteenth-Century Literature, and she has contributed essays to Romantic Science (SUNY, 2003), Cambridge Companion to Allegory (Cambridge, 2009) and Language without Soil: Adorno and Late Philosophical Modernity (Fordham, 2009). She has just finished writing Clandestine Marriage, on the presence of botany, as figure and material culture, in Romanticism.
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Jacques Khalip is associate professor of English and Modern Culture and Media at Brown University. He is the author of Anonymous Life: Romanticism and Dispossession (Stanford, 2009), and co-editor of Releasing the Image: From Literature to New Media (Stanford, 2011). His current book manuscript, Dwelling in Disaster, considers Romantic and post-Romantic explorations of extinction and wasted life.
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Daniel O'Quinn is an Associate Professor in the School of English and Theatre Studies at the University of Guelph. He is the author of Staging Governance: Theatrical Imperialism in London, 1770-1800 (The Johns Hopkins University Press, 2005). He has co-edited the Cambridge Companion to British Theatre, 1737-1840 (2007) with Jane Moody and edited Travels of Mirza Abu Taleb Khan for Broadview Press (forthcoming Winter 2008). His articles on the intersection of race, sexuality and class in Romantic culture have appeared in various journals including ELH, Studies in Romanticism, Texas Studies in Literature and Language, European Romantic Review, and Romantic Praxis.
[go to essay]
Matthew Rowlinson is Associate Professor in the Department of English and Centre for Theory and Criticism, University of Western Ontario. He is the author of Tennyson’s Fixations: Psychoanalysis and the Topics of the Early Poetry (Virginia, 1994) and essays on Victorian culture, capitalism, Marx and Jacques Derrida. He is welcomed to this volume as the disciplinary emblem of Romanticism’s differences with Victorian culture.
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global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/25139 | Last updated on March 16, 2014 at 9:48 EDT
The supercontinent Rodinia, which had been assembled during the late Mesoproterozoic Eon, had straddled the equator at the onset of the Neoproterozoic. The Tonian Period is marked by rifting that ultimately broke Rodinia up into a number of individual land masses. Possibly a consequence of the low-altitude position of most continental land masses, several large-scale glacial events occurred during the Neoproterozoic’s Cryogenian Period.
A few early fossils found in the Ediacaran Period appear to be possible ancestors of modern animals. Although most fall into ambiguous groups of frond-like animals, discoids, medusoids, small calcareous tubes, and armored animals of unknown provenance. These animal groups were commonly known as Vendian biota until the formal naming of the Period, and are now known as Ediacaran biota. Most were soft bodied and relationships to modern forms of animal life are obscure at best. While many experts relate these early organisms to modern animals, others only acknowledge a few possibilities and feel the rest are representatives of unknown animal types.
The terminal period of the Neoproterozoic, referred to as the Ediacaran by North Americans and Australians, has been typically called the Vendian Period by Russians and the Sinian Period by Chinese. However, in 2004, the International Union of Geological Sciences ratified the Ediacaran age to be a geological age of the Neoproterozoic, ranging from 635 to 542 million years ago. The Ediacaran boundaries are the only Precambrian boundaries defined by biologic Global Boundary Stratotype Section and Points, rather than absolute Global Standard Stratigraphic Ages.
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global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/25224 | Holiday Guide 2008: Pumpkin and pie
Modern desserts and delights for the hungry and historically minded
For most of us, pumpkin pie is as much an integral part of Thanksgiving as turkey and stuffing. It's been that way since the beginning, when pilgrims included pumpkin-based delights in their harvest meal.
But early versions of the dessert were much harder to come by than our canned-puree (or Marie Callender's) variety. The original New Englanders used pumpkins from the American Indians' harvest, of which they received a large share after arriving in Plymouth, Mass., in 1620. They filled pumpkin shells with a mixture of pumpkin, milk, honey, and spices, and baked them in hot ashes to get that puddinglike, orange deliciousness that so many of us crave by mid-November.
Back then, every part of the pumpkin was used. Pumpkin seeds were medicine. Mats were made from flattened, dried strips of shell. It even came in handy if you didn't like your freckles or wanted to get rid of a nasty snakebite, or so the pilgrims believed. The early Americans were so infatuated with the fruit (then known as pompion) that they even wrote songs about it: "We have pumpkin at morning and pumpkin at noon / If it were not for pumpkins, we would be undone."
These days, it's hard to find anyone who uses a pumpkin for anything more than a table decoration or a Jack-o'-lantern. But it's just as hard to find someone who'd say that the orange-colored custard tart doesn't belong on the Thanksgiving table. So why argue with tradition? At the very least, you'll be serving up some good, old-fashioned nutrition to your guests, in the form of vitamin A, potassium, and fiber.
Here are some ideas for pumpkin treats, whether they're traditional pies or modern alternatives, store bought or homemade.
From the outside, this Mission Street den doesn't look like a place where you'd want to buy a pet mouse, let alone a dessert to feed your loved ones. But stepping inside the café is like opening the door to Oz: bright colors and friendliness offset the tattered exterior. The staff suggests preordering from the rotating menu of five popular holiday pies ($18) if you want a whole one in time for Turkey Day. And believe me, you will. Try a slice ($3.85, or $3.50 to go) with a dollop of chilled whipped cream and a cup of one of three house-blend coffees. You'll find the pie's as traditional as anything Grandma's ever made for you.
2901 Mission, SF. (415) 282-1500,
It's nutty. It's succulent. And according to my findings, one person can devour the whole thing in a day. Beautifully wrapped in plastic and a pink bow, Miette's pumpkin walnut cake ($14) is a staple dessert for anyone headed to Mom and Dad's for Thanksgiving — but only if you can make it there with some still left on the platter. Not dressed to impress? Oh please, this cake is class-y. It will make up for a tattered sweater or a stained pant leg.
Ferry Building Marketplace, Embarcadero and Market, SF. (415) 837-0300,
This avant-garde brand makes completely organic pies from rice milk, free-range eggs, and palm fruit oil — which all taste better than they sound. Plus, everything is wheat free, gluten free, and casein free, so dessert lovers who are allergic to wheat and dairy can pig out without losing sleep. Pick up an eight-inch pumpkin tart at Whole Foods, Rincon Market, RJ's Market, Rainbow Grocery, Mollie Stones, Le Beau Nob Hill Market, or Andronico's.
(415) 826-7187,
It's always fun to mix things up. It's even more fun when there's pumpkin cheesecake involved.
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global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/25243 | I have been using SOAP API to call some functions. In current scenario i'm passing login and password for authentication, which can be retrieved as
$_SERVER['PHP_AUTH_PW'] -Password.
Now i want to pass API key also to authenicate. How should i modify the Server Code to accept API key similar to Username or Password.
This is how i used to call SOAP API function.
try {
$client = new SoapClient("wsdl", array(
'login' => 'user',
'password' => 'password'
$result = $client->functioname();
} catch(SoapFault $ex) { |
global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/25247 | Defining today's sales territory
08/7/2006 | CEO Strategist
Because today's sales territories refer more to a group of assigned clients than a geographical area, the number of accounts to one salesperson can grow out of hand. Before assigning a particular territory, ask how many accounts one rep can effectively handle on a personal level, one expert says.
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global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/25251 | Claudia Pearson
Claudia Pearson is a retired trial lawyer and graduate of Hollins University's Masters in Children's Literature program. She is the publisher and Editor-in-Chief of Look Again Press, a small independent publishing business located in Birmingham, Alabama.
Hidden Messages in Children's Picture Books
By Claudia Pearson
By Claudia Pearson
Claudia Pearson’s tag cloud |
global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/25294 | Printed 2014/03/16 07:48AM
A Dead Zune and Choices
Shortly after the Zune debuted, I purchased one. And I've been happy with it. It's done everything I expected out of a music/video player and it's gone with me nearly everywhere. So I was a bit saddened to pull it out this morning and see that the screen had been cracked. Not the external glass, but the internal LED screen. It's been a few days since I've used it. I believe the last time was right before SQL Saturday in Atlanta. It had gotten tossed in one of my laptop bags, one with plenty of padding, but it looks like a sharp impact to the screen still occured. I'm not sure if it occurred while it was in that bag or some other time. Though it still plays, I can't read a single thing on the screen, renduring the Zune unusable.
This morning I thought about what to replace it with and got a few bits of feedback from some folks on Twitter and on Facebook, but it'll be probably a month or so before I do replace it. There's a very good reason for the delay: it's not budgeted and I don't have money saved up for its purchase. The excess money we had saved up went towards a planned purchase of a MacBook about two weeks ago. In considering how I've used it over the last few months, I've realized that it's not essential for me to have a new Zune or iPod or other mp3 player. I have a PSP which mostly collects dust and for the purposes of carrying portable music and some podcasts, it'll do. I could go ahead and purchase a new player and throw it on a credit card, but like I say, it's not budgeted and the money hasn't been saved up and set aside for it. Purchasing on credit is not something I want to do for something that isn't absolutely essential.
This got me to thinking about projects and resources and how they get allocated. We all what resources and focus on the things we care about the most. For me, that has usually been the security side of things and now it's ensuring that we get good code that performs well against the databases I support. But there are a lot of things that need to be done to bring a project to completion and sometimes you have to compromise in certain areas to get to the finish line. This means sometimes not having the resources to crank every bit of performance out of each and every stored procedure and data access code. Often the resources that would do that are busy working on bugfixes or supporting the implementation of those bugfixes. And that means that stored procedure code base which is performing okay is left at performing just okay.
When I have served as a project manager, I have understood this dynamic and accepted it. It's part of the trade-offs you have to make to ensure resources are assigned to the proper areas to complete the project. But as a technician I've realized sometimes that I have a very myopic view of an application or project. Of course I want the stuff that's important to me fixed first. However, in the grand scheme of things those things may not be of the highest priority. But I'm only seeing the things that impact me. I'm not taking a step back and getting the bigger picture. And sometimes I've made a big deal out of it. And some of those times the PM doesn't take the step back either and assigns the resources to my priorities when he or she shouldn't. It's the same as buying a new mp3 player on credit.
As technicians, when there isn't enough resources available to complete all the wants for a project, it's time for us to take a step back. We need to try and understand where our needs fall within the other needs of the project. Does our needs truly deserve priority? If they do, then we should detail why in very clear language that explains the impact of not getting to what we want to see accomplished. There is a great temptation to exaggerate a bit, but that doesn't serve us well. We may get priority on this project, but what about the next one? If we've exaggerated the impact and that is seen, then the assumption is going to be that we always exaggerate our issues. We'll become like The Boy Who Cried Wolf. And that story didn't end well.
Maybe our issues don't get resolved by the end of the project. But if they are legitimate and we've documented them well, then our organization knows about them. Hopefully they don't get forgotten about. If our write-ups were well done and the project had the right visibility, they won't be forgotten. And they'll eventually get the resources needed to solve the issues, if those issues show themselves to be painful enough. That's like saving up and buying the mp3 player when the resources are available. We don't overextend the organization or burn credit we shouldn't for something that isn't absolutely critical. All around, it's the smarter choice.
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global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/25305 | Design of Robust Global Power and Ground Networks
S. Boyd, L. Vandenberghe, A. El Gamal, and S. Yun
Proceedings ACM/SIGDA Symposium on Physical Design (ISPD), p60-65, April 2001
We consider the problem of determining optimal wire widths for a power or ground network, subject to limits on wire widths, voltage drops, total wire area, current density, and power dissipation. To account for the variation of the current demand, we model it as a random vector with known statistics, possibly including correlation between subsystem currents. Other researchers have shown that when the variation in the current is not taken into account, the optimal network topology is a tree. A tree topology is, however, almost never used in practice, because it is not robust with respect to variations in the block currents. We show that when the current variation is taken into account, the optimal network is usually not a tree. We formulate a heuristic method based on minimizing a linear combination of total average power and total wire area. We show that this results in designs that obey the reliability constraints, occupy small area, and most importantly are robust against variations in block currents. The problem can be formulated as a nonlinear convex optimization problem that can be globally solved very efficiently. |
global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/25357 | Most people welcomed 2012 with a bang, but some others brought in the New Year with a puuuuuuuush!!!!
Yvonne Pena gave birth to a healthy baby girl at Memorial Hermann Northeast Hospital in Humble at 1:01 am Sunday. Baby Daniella proved Cinderella wrong: the beautiful princess joined the party past midnight, making her one of the first born Houstonians of the New Year.
The baby wasn't due until the 14th, but Daniella knew better than to miss a New Year’s Eve celebration. She arrived via C-section, weighing 6 pounds, 6 ounces, surprising her adoring parents. Mother Yvonne is a high school teacher and father Robert is a personal trainer. Daniella is their first child.
Mother and baby are both doing well…and the father is too! |
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On January 14, 2008, it was freezing outside the non-descript office building that houses the Kansas City Board of Trade. Inside, traders who had spent their entire careers on an open-outcry market, where business was done face-to-face, watched as their way of life was utterly transformed.
For the first time, it was possible to trade Hard Red Winter Wheat–which, as the primary component of bread, is one of the most traded commodities in the U.S.–on an electronic exchange. Skeptics, used to the old ways, had predicted that the electronic market would be unpopular. Yet the first year it operated, it served ten times as many trades as the old open outcry market, and even though the trades were smaller on average, it still accounted for 100,000 more trades per month–nearly double the volume of the old market.
An analysis of the transition published this year by a pair of economists from Oklahoma State University captures an increasingly rare event in the developed world: the moment in time that a market moves into the information age, when anyone can trade on it regardless of their physical location, prices move in a matter of seconds and every trade is transparent.
So far, the Kansas City Board of Trade has seen only the benefits that economists previously predicted would accrue to anyone who adopts an electronic market. For example, according to the analysis by Smarth Shan and B. Wade Brorsen, moving to an electronic market meant decreased price volatility.
That’s exactly the opposite of what you’d expect if you’d read the recent coverage of last Thursday’s hiccup in prices on Wall Street. (Here’s a great example from the LA Times: “Growth of electronic trading a major cause of stock market free fall”).
Other benefits included a lower cost of liquidity–it was cheaper to move money into and out of the market–which correlated with a decrease in the size of each trade, an increase in daily volume of trades, and a decrease in the kind of round-number prices humans like to quote each other when they’re negotiating the price of something face to face.
All of this makes sense when you imagine replacing the clubby atmosphere of a trading floor packed with a few dozen guys who have known each other for decades, with a potentially infinite number of anonymous traders logging on from anywhere in the world, moving prices in tiny increments. If the point of markets is efficiency, and efficiency means volume, then it’s no wonder traders and even regulatory bodies have allowed electronic markets to flourish.
Of course, we won’t know what the long-term effects of electrification of this market are until the day traders discover the market for Hard Red Winter Wheat - which is already big enough to be included in Goldman Sachs’ S&P 500-style index of commodities futures known as the GSCI.
As the SEC seeks to regulate day traders, who may hold stock for as little as a few seconds, and therefore aren’t actual shareholders in a company by any reasonable definition, it’s markets in transition–which are, like this one, laboratories for economists studying the effect of technology on markets–that will provide data on their ultimate effects, both good and bad.
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global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/25400 | Desperate Housewives
Episode Report Card
DeAnn Welker: A | Grade It Now!
Sex, Lies and Videotape
Bree shows up at Katherine's to give her the tape. Katherine's very apologetic about doing that in the kitchen, but Bree quickly brushes past that because she lives in a glass house. But she's not going to brush past the fact that this is Mike, and that Mike is Susan's ex-husband, and that Susan is Katherine's oldest friend on this street. Katherine says that Susan divorced him and is seeing someone else. While Katherine might not know it, technically, Susan tried to get Mike not to sign the papers, so he technically divorced her. Katherine asks why Mike can't do the same, and Bree says it's because they're women, and they don't do that to each other. I don't think that men do that to their friends, either, by the way. But what do I know? [Well, they at least ask. - Z] Katherine thinks it's okay, because she's been alone for five years, and she's in a relationship, and is having the time of her life. Bree tells her to be careful, and that she'd hate to see it end badly. See, now, those rules are rules that I support Bree pushing. Why can't we always have this softer, kinder Bree?
Lynette knocks on Porter's door to let him know breakfast is ready. She goes in the room and tells him she gets why he's hating her right now. He says he doesn't hate her. She just keeps going, though, telling him that one day he'll meet someone more appropriate, who wants the same things out of life. She says that she hopes he'll see where she's coming from then. He gets and takes a phone call. It's Anne, but Porter pretends it's Gary. Anne says she can leave town Saturday and asks if he has the money. He says "No problem." She says she loves him, and he sighs heavily, and they both hang up. He shakes his head ever-so-slightly. He then tells his mom that he knows where she's coming from and he wants her and Tom to know how much he appreciates everything they've done. She says, "Good," and that she'll see him downstairs. He reaches under his bed and pulls out the box of money. The first time I watched this, I read it as he's definitely leaving with Anne, but upon second viewing, I'm not so sure. I think there are a couple other options: 1. They're leaving town to have an abortion. 2. He's giving her money to leave on her own to get away from her violent husband (this could explain the head shake and him telling Lynette he knows where she's coming from).
Mary Alice starts to talk about desire: Porter's for Anne, causing him to make foolish choices. Grandma Nutjob's for family, causing her to act out in anger. Katherine's for Mike (and to not be lonely), causing her to behave recklessly. And the doctor's for Mike. We know this as he books his flight to Fairview. The key, I think, is in Mary Alice's exact words: "And when the pursuit of our heart's desire becomes an obsession, the best we can hope for is a caring friend willing to come along... and stop us." So, Dr. Heller clearly knows what Creepy Dave's up to in Fairview and has to get there to stop him from doing whatever it is he's going to do to Mike.
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global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/25433 | From the archive, 4 June 1956: British Railways engineer a peasants' rising
Originally published in the Manchester Guardian on 4 June 1956
It seemed an ordinary enough journey: alternating between snores and chat, running a bit on the late side, reassured by the platform announcers booming away from their other world. There was no outward sign that we were making history. Yet the train was evidently going to arrive about midnight, which meant that our twisted pride would achieve its aim. We should be the last of the third-class travellers in Britain. To-day, all along the line, it will be all change. Third class, that most demented of British institutions, is no more. Combining social abasement with a high degree of comfort, pretending to have no middle when (like a fat man trying to tell us he is nothing but head and feet) it was all middle, it certainly served the national cause of illogic. Now it is over. By the stroke of a pen, and of a midnight clock, we ceased being third-class and became second-class instead.
"We're being promoted, it seems," said the Ancient Passenger in the corner, digging into his last third-class supper. One had a vision of all the privates in the Army being made lance corporals on the same day, without any more pay or privilege or responsibility – without, indeed, any physical change in their condition whatever. Did it, then, go deeper than that? Psychological warfare applied to peace? A subtle preventive move to forestall a strike of passengers? The Ancient Passenger panted quietly, like steam working up, as he looked back down the long line of his railway memories.
Promotion for him had come late. His third-class recollections did not stretch quite as far as the original "parliamentary trains" which Mr Gladstone compelled the companies to run with penny-a-mile accommodation for the poor, nor to the days of the open trucks. But they still covered an impressive vista of permanent way. "A dozen times round the world, I reckon I been on trains," said the Ancient Passenger, biting into his third buffet sandwich with the chuntering sound of wheels going over points.
From here to the moon, I thought. Half a century of travel, and only once in a carriage that was not a third. The exception, it seemed was early in the nineteen-twenties, when, a wedding guest, he aspired to one of the "seconds" which at that time still lingered on certain lines, like bemused monsters which had failed to realise that they were extinct. Perhaps he had been in the last of the seconds, as that night he was in the last of the thirds. He threw his wrappings carefully through the window and added surprisingly, "They was faster in them days."
Norman Shrapnel
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global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/25435 | Why 10pm is too late for a new drama – and TV schedules still matter
A number of recent flagship TV dramas have been shown on odd days or late in the evening. Does it matter – or has technology freed us from the tyranny of the schedules?
Peter Mullan in The Fear
Peter Mullan in The Fear, a brave drama that suffered from poor scheduling
Television drama is the most expensive sort of programming. So you'd expect to see dramatic shows treated with respect and scheduled carefully – especially when commissioned by modestly funded channels such as BBC2 or Channel 4, where the genre is a treat, on ration. But I increasingly find myself flummoxed by what, to me, feel like erratic scheduling decisions.
Irritation began to soar seriously in August, when BBC2 launched Parade's End, an adaptation of Ford Madox Ford's first world war saga, which had Sunday night drama stamped all over it, on a Friday night at the end of August. This was followed by what I view as a more serious mistake, when Channel 4 launched Secret State, its long-awaited political thriller, on a weekday at 10 pm.
It had a superb cast, headed by Gabriel Byrne, supported by Gina McKee, Charles Dance, and Stephen Dillane – and seemed clearly targeted at older, upmarket ABC1 viewers. People who – boring though this might sound – don't want to be still watching their favourite new drama at 11pm on a weeknight. There is some overlap, of course, but I'd argue this is largely a different audience from fans of say, student comedy drama Fresh Meat – that in any case has a very different tone – which has been a triumph in that timeslot, or raucous entertainment on Friday nights.
We don't expect flagship dramas to be on at 10pm. And when it comes to Secret State, the audience for political drama tends to be watching news at 10pm, followed, perhaps, by Newsnight. Why didn't Channel 4 put it in the 9pm slot? Or show it on Sunday night, before the second series of Homeland? Whatever … Secret State never became a must-see drama: with consolidated viewing figures of around 1.7 million, it fell short of a respectable 2 million – struggling to find its audience from launch.
Then came The Fear, in which gang violence meets mental illness, with a terrific performance by Peter Mullan. Again Channel 4 scheduled it at 10pm. This time the late start was justified by some scenes of extreme violence and its aftermath, as the 9pm watershed is supposed to mark the graduated start of adult viewing, rather than an abrupt waterfall. But the decision to schedule the four episodes Monday to Thursday in the first week of December killed off that audience too: the best live viewing figures were 873,000.
This form of scheduling, in which a drama is stripped across a week, should be used very sparingly. It can, at best, create a "drama event" out of a tense thriller, but more usually – as happened here – it proves very challenging for viewers who have a life beyond sitting on the sofa every evening. Not least in the runup to Christmas. This way, once you fall behind with a drama by missing one episode, there's no time to catch up before the next one and it's tempting to duck out.
This was a shame: The Fear had an interesting plot about the effect of dementia on memory and behaviour. It tried, literally, to give some perspective on the issue by using a camera mounted on Mullan's head. It was a far cry from the over-65s' favourite drama of the year, Last Tango in Halifax – broadcast at 9pm with strong ratings – but The Fear was a brave drama.
Many people will question how much scheduling really matters. Now 10% or more of viewing is via catchup services, time-shifted viewing and +1 channels – Channel 4 also runs 4Seven – there is no need to be tied to a schedule. I would also accept that Parade's End did relatively well in its experimental slot. Yet positioning and due prominence within a linear schedule still matter. Despite being strong dramas, The Fear and Secret State were unnoticed – or at least unwatched – by too many.
Yesterday, E4 launched its much admired Mad Fat Diary at 10pm, tonight we come to the latest drama that Channel 4 is showing in that slot: Utopia, made by the Spooks experts Kudos. Given Utopia's high bodycount, strong torture scene and appeal to young adults, 10pm could be seen as entirely appropriate. But it doesn't finish until 11.25pm, which is late for those viewers who need to get up in the morning.
Channel 4's head of drama, Piers Wenger, has described Utopia as exactly the kind of quality original drama he wants the channel to support. But he is also ambitious to occupy the main 9pm slot, which is where the BBC and ITV tend to schedule their big dramas. For viewers in search of choice and an interesting mix, this will surely be welcome – clashes are largely catered for by +1 channels.
So how much does scheduling matter to you? Is 9pm your favoured time to watch a drama? Are you glad to see stuff you might want to watch at 10pm? Or does everything get recorded to the PVR in any case? (And if so, do you actually watch it – or end up deleting whole series?)
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global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/25478 | 1. Frank Burns
Fashion show? I thought it was a motorboat convention.
2. It seems the show is right here.
3. In the background of every photo like this, there’s a bus that should be driving over Orlando Bloom.
4. Inner Retard
No one knew about Miranda’s secret identity. But when duty called she was always ready to jump into the nearest phone booth to change into her alter ego as a mild mannered sex toy.
5. Looks like a mannequin.
6. Kodos
Proud of those, aren’t you?
Miranda, we thank you.
7. Just when I thought I could not find more ways to love this woman, bam, she proves me wrong.
8. MD2020
Clark Kent would go into a phone booth to open up his shirt, and he usually had another uniform underneath.
Miranda improves on both points.
9. dontkillthemessenger
Holy shit… she just turned a billboard into a lesbian.
10. The Pope
It was at this moment that she evolved from being simply Miranda Kerr, into Miranda-Fucking-Kerr!
11. poop
am i the only one put off by how waxy they look? they seriously look like a prop
12. Swearin
For once, I finally understand fashion
13. Rabid1
Woman Behind: I can’t believe she wore that crap!
Paparazzi behind and to the side: I Got Titties!
14. My God… that mannequin just came to life!
15. “Bless you, Miranda. Bless you…”
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global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/25520 | View Single Post
Old May 18 2013, 11:44 PM #2955
Fleet Captain
Kruezerman's Avatar
Location: San Antonio, Texas
Ubik wrote: View Post
When someone says, "It doesn't feel like Star Trek," what they mean is, "It doesn't feel like GOOD Star Trek," which is a perfectly valid statement.
But what defines "good?"
I too am torn about this movie. As a fun, witty, action-adventure, it's quite a good movie. It's entertaining as hell, funny, tense, emotional, all those things you want from a space adventure spectacle.
But since when is the Star Trek property an action property? I honestly don't get it. None of the Star Trek shows are primarily action shows, and most of the movies are not primarily action movies. Even First Contact is more of a horror/thriller than an action movie (and a slow, thoughtful one at that.)
TWOK was very action-y, First Contact even more so (and to be honest, kinda dumb, blind action at that). DS9 was, for a good portion, a war show. TOS had fistfights and TNG had everything above. No, Star Trek is not "pure" action, but a very large portion is. Honestly, it was never this high-brow show, never. It tried to be at times, but it failed miserably.
So why have Paramount and Abrams taken something that was really quite unique, and made it so common and mainstream?
Because it's popular and critically good again? Ya know, like it used to be? I don't know about you, but I want to share the awesome that is Star Trek with everyone, not keep it in a box where it will gather dust and die.
Sure, it's entertaining action, but entertaining action movie spectacles are a dime a dozen. These reboots don't feel like Star Trek, because they';re in a different genre than the franchise has been for almost 50 years. Wrath of Khan is not an action movie - the action is slow and dialogue-driven. This adrenaline rush stuff is standard Hollywood fare, but Star Trek has rarely had to rely on it before. The reason it doesn't feel like Star Trek is because now it feels like everything else. It feels less special, and more standard. Exciting and entertaining, absolutely. But standard.
This Trek is both, adrenaline and dialogue. Especially this one.
It's funny. Lately, James Bond and Batman have rejuvenated their respective franchises and regained respect and popularity by becoming more serious, more complex, and more adult. Star Trek has rejuvenated its franchise and regained respect and popularity by doing the exact opposite - becoming simpler and more juvenile. I wonder why that is.
Well you're dead wrong. If anything, it grew up and grew out of it's old chains.
The self proclaimed Angry Mexican man of TNZ. You're welcome.
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global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/25560 | Nissan may have awakened the sleepy North American full-size van market with its Mississippi-built NV range, but is also introducing a new NV400 line for the European market specifically suited for that market's needs. Like its rival, the Ford Transit, the NV400 is offered in front or rear-wheel drive and features four-cylinder diesel powerplants ranging from 100 to 150 hp. The four main variations offered are a chassis cab, minibus, crew van, dropside, and tipper (dump truck).
The chassis cab model is available in either mid- or long-wheelbase versions with front or rear drive, and single or twin rear wheel, for a total of 13 available configurations. The chassis cab is available with either a 125- or 150-hp version of Nissan's 2.5dCi turbodiesel four-cylinder engine.
The minibus model can accommodate nine passengers including the driver, or six passengers and a generous cargo area. The minibus offers 100- and 125-hp engine options and standard three-point belts and anti-lock brakes. The starting price for the U.K. model is the equivalent of $41,887.
The crew van can accommodate up to seven people and ample cargo space with a variety of available cargo and payload specifications, and a payload of more than 3000 pounds. The crew van is available in either front or rear drive, and starts at the equivalent of $40,295.
The dropside bed model is available in a single three-seat or double seven-seater cab with front or rear drive, and a maximum payload of up to 3223 lb.
The tipper model, or dump truck, is available in single or double-cab configurations with a payload of up to 2705 lb. The single-cab model starts at $39,034, and the double-cab at $42,817.
The NV400 will also be offered to local converters for conversions to a box-van configuration, refrigerated van, and a disabled-accessible model, to be available complete from Nissan commercial dealers.
Source: Nissan UK |
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Summary: Size matters not.
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Literature > HorrorbatzulgerFR151714,17544018,54611 Nov 0929 Jan 14Yes
Chapter Thirteen
Being normally perceived as a suave and debonair dwarf about town, you might be surprised to know that I have spent an absolutely silly amount of time sleeping in very very unpleasant locales. The top of a tree in the Minnesota wilderness definitely qualifies.
I had tried to stay awake as long as possible, but when the adrenaline from the chase had finally faded from my system I crashed hard, only waking when my lovely wife was yelling most delicately at me.
"Mmmpjlrrgtt??" was my carefully considered response to her dulcet call as I rolled and and almost fell out of the crook where I had been napping.
"Mongo! Get down here!"
I blinked groggily and shaking my head to clear it, dropped the twenty feet into a neat shoulder roll on the ground.
"You rang?" I yawned.
"Coyote's gone!" Harper was scanning the woodline around the mound.
"He'll be back. I doubt the wendigos will be able to catch him..." In fact, just as I had finished speaking, Coyote did reappear dragging a freshly killed doe and at a dead run. We could hear the weird not-speech of our attackers babbling in the woods around us, and a large grayish shape ran towards him. I drew my pistol and dropped to one knee, aiming at the target of opportunity's head before squeezing off two shots. The large figure staggered and dropped in a heap.
The babbling turned into howls of rage and probably dwarf-seeking vengeance. Story of my life. Coyote took the diversion and hauled his furry rump up to join us, before dropping the deer at Harper's feet and collapsing in exhaustion.
"God damn that's a strong dog..." Dan said almost disbelievingly. He was staring at the hundred pound doe that Coyote had been hauling along while moving at a dead run.
"Lobox...not a dog," I rubbed the panting apex predator's ears and ruff. "Good Coyote, you brought us breakfast." His tongue lolled out and he gave us the happy killing machine smile. Approval from the pack leader was always appreciated.
Then he gave a slightly nervous whine and looked out into the woods.
"Don't worry boy, we'll kill them all," I reassured him. He gave a happier yap at that and began to roll and stretch.
"Breakfast?" Dan was staring at the doe.
"Well of course," Harper answered, "He knows the pack has to be fed. Dan, your knife."
He pulled the big folding knife from its belt sheath and handed it over. It really wasn't the best tool for jointing and butchering, but it was what we had. Soon Dan was helping with the cutting while I started building a fire from the dead wood up here with us. In a remarkably short period of time we were enjoying fresh deer-ka-bab.
"So what now?" Dan asked.
"Now," I replied while examining the various plant life and other flotsam that was scattered around us, "We prepare for our backup to arrive. Dan," I asked meditatively, "I think we should send out another message for help," I was looking south, "Our cavalry will need to be able to find us after all."
"How are we going to do that?" Dan was looking south now too. "We can't get a decent signal and I'm not really sure where we are."
"I was thinking that Lassie should go to the rescue and tell them Timmy has fallen down a well," I looked down at Coyote who was calmly gnawing on one of the doe's thigh bones and crushing it to splinters. He looked back up at me curiously.
"Could he make it Mongo?"
"Easily. Only trouble is that he is very dangerous to others if one of his pack isn't around to keep him focused. The good news is my brother Garth is on the way and should be there soon. He can keep Coyote calm."
"How do you know the wendigos won't intercept him Robby?" Harper asked.
"Well he's going to need a diversion obviously...Dan, have you ever started a forest fire?"
"Are you serious?"
Harper groaned, "Whenever it comes to random property destruction he always is."
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global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/25581 | Red Dwarf
2009, TV Show
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Premiered: April 10, 2009, on Dave
Rating: TV-PG
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Premise: Astronaut David Lister survives a disaster in space that wipes out the crew of the mining ship Red Dwarf in this BBC production. However, Lister is not alone. A hologram of his dead bunkmate Arnold and a creature that was once the ship's cat join him in his journey toward Earth. Along the way, they're joined by a robot and a woman from a parallel universe.
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global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/25595 | Institute of Archaeology
First for Archaeology in UK 2014
IoA Graduate Open EveningsInstitute_of_Archaeology_thumbnail_1.jpg75TH_Appeal.jpg
Computer Applications in Archaeology UK Chapter Meeting
28 January 2013
Computer Applications in Archaeology UK Chapter Meeting
Mark Lake will present the keynote address at the Computer Applications and Quantitative Methods in Archaeology UK Chapter meeting being hosted by L-P Archaeology on 22-23 February.
CAA is an international organisation bringing together archaeologists, mathematicians and computer scientists. It aims to encourage communication between these disciplines, to provide a survey of present work in the field and to stimulate discussion and future progress.
This conference represents the annual CAA UK chapter meeting. It is an informal space to present, discuss and collaborate on various computing applications within archaeology and the heritage sector at large. This is the first time the conference has been hosted by a commercial archaeology company, so there will be a focus on computing in the CRM environment.
Mark's keynote address will discuss some of the key themes raised in the recent ‘World Archaeology’ issue on the theme of Open Archaeology, asking a series of questions about the social, cultural, political and economic ramifications of the Open Movement and reflecting on the irony of publishing a collection of papers on Open archaeology in a conventional academic journal.
L-P Archaeology, established by Institute alumni Guy Hunt, Stuart Eve (currently completing his PhD with us) and Matthew Williams, has been an independent archaeological practice since 1999. |
global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/25608 | Shmoop Offers New Literature Glossary
Thursday, August 9, 2012
A former student may have learned in high school what an archetype is but since forgotten. She may remember that there is indeed a difference between connotation and denotation but could use a refresher. Or she may want to settle a bet with her friend about what a rhetorical question really is. (Is this one?)
Shmoop, a publisher of digital curriculum and test prep, offers a Literature Glossary that is sure to help.
Dictionaries are boring. Shmoop is not. Check out the new Literature Glossary, and Words with Friends will suddenly be a piece of cake.
Read more » |
global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/25650 | Grinning and Baring It
The Crimes of Courtney Love
Sure it was a publicity stunt. When Courtney Love gave David Letterman a peek, and later did the same and more for some guy outside Wendy's, she certainly had the sales of her latest album in mind. But I'm willing to cut Courtney a lot of slack. No woman in music today gets closer to Janis Joplin when it comes to channeling the primal.
Though she was much too shy to show her breasts, Janis definitely let it all hang out. She was one of the great hunger artists of the '60s. In performance, she tore her insides out and offered them up to her audience in the (usually vain) hope of pleasing and attracting men. I don't surmise this from a rockumentary. I got about as close to Janis as a rock writer could, and in those days you could get pretty close. I saw her neediness and confusion, and I watched as she was allowed to slip away. Her death from an overdose was a major reason why I stopped writing about music in the early '70s—but that's another piece.
When I watch Courtney, I see the same failure to distinguish between persona and self, the same refusal to draw a boundary between expressiveness and excess, the same insistence on showing pain that made rock music in the '60s so intense. Of course, Janis wasn't gratuitously violent, if only because she didn't have the ego strength to project her anguish onto anyone but herself. Nor was she capable of the sleazy stylizations that Courtney can't resist. Janis was too badly damaged to be a narcissist—and the industrial tropes of rock were nowhere near as binding as they are today. Janis grew up in an era when there were young ladies and sluts like her, but by the time Courtney came along, bad girls were invited to kick out the jams. Watching her flail about, I can see the world my generation created, for better or worse.
I'll leave it for dude nation to rate Courtney's rack. Instead, I want to focus on breast baring as an act of power. It has a rich history in Western culture, one that merits mentioning at a time when female flashing has become a line of demarcation in the culture wars.
I'm not thinking of those naked majasand nurturing Madonnas that grace the realm of art. When you enter a museum, bare boobs are all around you. This hallowed setting sanctions the root reverie of heterosexuality that involves possession, domestication, and control of the female body. That's why the male nude is usually standing while the female nude is passively posed. But there's another, more active role for women in art. By the time Eugène Delacroix got around to painting Liberty Leading the Peoplein 1830, the bare-breasted woman warrior was a signature of civic strength. Blame it on the Romans and their goddess Justicia (a/k/a Dike, if you want to get Greek about it). Her nude figure stands in the lobby of the Justice Department. When John Ashcroft had it draped so he could hold his press conferences in decency, he attested to the enduring power of women who expose themselves—and the anxiety they provoke in the religious right.
You don't have to tell that to Karen Finley, the performance artist who poured chocolate over her naked body and stuffed food up her butt while incanting a poetry of pain and rage. Perhaps you remember how the pussy-chasing gents of Congress reacted to this gesture in the '80s. I still vividly recall the first time I saw Finley perform, and the reaction of men in the audience. This was a club crowd, and they threw lit matches at her. It was a supreme gesture of male terror and revulsion. So it isn't just the right that fears a naked woman what won't lie still.
Because female exhibitionism carries this aura of violation, it unleashes all the demons of gender. That's why breast baring has been utilized by generations of rebellious American women. Isadora Duncan, the mother of modern dance, was the Karen Finley of her time, never more so than when she let her drape drop before a stunned audience. So, in a sense, was Sojourner Truth, the freed slave who became a powerful preacher—and one of the first activists to link the oppression of slaves and women. She was so imposing that she was often accused of being a man. In order to stop such slander, she exposed her breasts before a crowd in Indiana. It was one of the most important moments in American history, though you'll never see it on a commemorative stamp.
Flash forward to the Super Bowl, when Janet Jackson stepped into the sexual maelstrom by allowing Justin Timberlake to rip her possibly pre-torn top. Consider the penalty the partners in this faux apache dance incurred and you'll see the meaning of breast baring in a conservative time. Janet is cast in the slut role and punished accordingly, while Justin sails along on the unspoken assumption that boys will be boys where the bodice is concerned. In this rapine charade, Justin butches up his icon, and a wan apology is all the shame his sin requires. But the bad girl can't say she's sorry. She must suffer the contempt of those who relish watching her disgrace in slo-mo on every channel. I can only wonder why the boom landed on Janet while Britney can flog the scarlet letter.
Thank God, for Courtney's sake, that she is white. She can play the wild woman without frightening the horses. What's more, she chose to grin and bare it at an hour when all good children are asleep, having whacked off in their beds. The mic-stand mayhem that followed was the ideal addendum to this piece of performance art, and the climax came when she emerged from jail to the timeless glare of the cameras. It was a perfect tabloid moment.
If you step back a bit from this vaudeville, it's hard to ignore the evidence that Courtney is a woman in crisis. She faces drug possession charges. Her daughter has been removed from her custody. The 10th anniversary of her husband's suicide is coming up. Sure she markets her madness, but the primal currents that course through her act are real. That's what makes her a hunger artist. And she doesn't just put her personal pain in your face. In the tradition of Joplin and Finley, her art answers Sojourner Truth's fearsome, if rhetorical, question: Ain't I a woman?
But Courtney's 'tude also evokes a much less salutary tradition. Entertainers like her are often rewarded for being out of control, and the reinforcement accelerates their downward spiral. That's what happened to Janis, and for that matter, Judy Garland. Baring the breast can represent a rebellion against this sacrificial rite. It's a gesture of agency. Check out the manual of psychological disorders and you'll see that exhibitionism is regarded as a quintessentially male pathology. When women do it, they lay claim to the phallus.
There's something about a rampageous woman flashing men that resonates with power. You expect guys to rear back in horror, as they did before Sojourner Truth, or to throw lit matches, as they did at Finley. That was then and this is now. David Letterman was anything but fazed by Courtney's desk dance. In his insouciance, you can glimpse the liberal man's defense against the phallic potential of women. Don't try to repress it—that's for Republicans.Just sit back and enjoy the show.
If I have to choose between The Stepford Wives and MTV Spring Break,I'll definitely opt for the latter. But at least conservatives take sexual transgression seriously. The liberal solution is to tame it by trivializing it. That way, male distance is maintained. The classic gesture of female incursion is neutralized. And ultimately the joke is on desire.
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global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/25683 | The Blog
Naval Strategy
for the 21st Century
Addressing a perceived lack of relevance.
12:00 AM, Oct 24, 2007 • By STUART KOEHL
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THE U.S. NAVY is by far the most powerful naval force in the world, perhaps equal in combat power to all the rest of the world's navies combined. The U.S. Navy alone operates large deck, nuclear-powered aircraft carriers, their air groups (each more potent than most of the world's air forces) and their associated battle groups on a routine basis--and possesses no fewer than ten of these. The U.S. Navy alone operates a large force of nuclear-powered attack and ballistic missile submarines (the Soviet submarine force being but a shade of its former glory, while the Chinese submarine force is two or three technology generations behind). The U.S. Navy alone possesses the wherewithal to launch large amphibious assault operations. Most important of all, the U.S. Navy alone has the ability to project and sustain naval power at any point on the globe for weeks and months on end, thanks to its unsung but essential "fleet train" of oilers and underway replenishment vessels (In 1982, the British task force sent to the Falklands was literally falling apart for lack of maintenance by the end of that war).
The United States Navy today suffers from only one glaring shortcoming: a perceived lack of relevance. Navies traditionally exist to fight other navies, to preserve freedom of the seas, to control sea lanes, or at worst, deny them to other navies. But today the U.S. Navy is unchallenged. The Soviet Navy has trouble sending a relatively small task force into the Mediterranean after a year of preparation. The Chinese Navy seldom ventures beyond its bastion in the South China Sea. The rest of the world's navies are slouching into glorified coast guards. So why do we need a navy, and how does the Navy justify its shipbuilding budget?
The broad answer is deterrence. The existence of the Navy serves to inhibit potential aggressors from going to war by allowing the U.S. to project military power anywhere in the world, even where we do not have allies or bases in the theater. Thus, in any given crisis, every president since Eisenhower has always asked first, "Where are the carriers?" The size and power of the U.S. Navy inhibits most other countries from even attempting to match us at sea (even the USSR settled for a "sea denial" strategy intended to disrupt U.S. reinforcement of Europe for a limited period, rather than trying to wrest permanent control of the Atlantic from us), and so their options are immediately constrained by the existence of U.S. seapower.
In the Cold War, the U.S. Navy exercised this deterrent function in two ways: first, by maintaining the nuclear ballistic missile submarine force as one (and the most secure) leg of the nuclear triad; second, by developing and retaining the combat power to defeat the Soviet navy's aim of disrupting the Atlantic sea lanes. At a secondary level, the Navy also had the ability to strike along the periphery of the Soviet empire, and to intervene in secondary theaters or regional wars through airpower and amphibious assaults.
Today, these missions are gone, but the need for the Navy to act as a deterrent to aggression remains. The question is how.
The U.S. Navy recently tried to answer that question through a new policy document entitled "A Cooperative Strategy For 21st Century Sea Power." Produced and endorsed by the Navy, the Coast Guard, and the Marine Corps, it recognizes that the days of fleet actions are most likely over (barring a major conflict involving China), and that the future will be dominated by low intensity conflicts, humanitarian assistance, stabilization and reconstruction operations, and counter-terrorism operations. How does the Navy make itself relevant in that context?
The short answer is by continuing to be the United States Navy. With its large, general-purpose forces, the Navy is capable of a wide range of contingency operations without making substantial alterations to its force structure or its operational methods. The capabilities that support the Navy's primary military missions allow it to perform these low-intensity missions as well. This will become increasingly important given the rapid "littoralization" of the world's population--already a majority of people live within 60 miles of the ocean, and the shift from hinterlands to coast is accelerating. |
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Posted May 17 2011 10:17am
Shell Opens Third Hydrogen Station in Southern California Shell announced the opening of a new demonstration hydrogen station in Torrance, California, the first in the US to have hydrogen delivered to the site directly from an existing underground pipeline. Excess hydrogen is typically available on the hydrogen pipelines used by oil refiners. Hydrogen is used [...]
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global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/25691 | Leslie Kealhofer
Visiting Assistant Professor of French
Leslie received her B.A. in French and Political Science from the University of Notre Dame and was awarded her M.A. and Ph.D. in French from Florida State University.
Her research interests include 20th and 21st century Francophone literatures and cinemas, postcolonial studies, women’s studies, and film studies. The first axis of her current research focuses on cinematic representations of migrant women from the Maghreb in France and women of Maghrebi origin in France. The second axis of her research aims to interrogate the dynamics of female friendships – relationships that often span cultures, languages, generations, and geographical borders – in cinematic and literary works set in three distinct geographical spaces of the Francophone world: North Africa, the Caribbean, and Metropolitan France.
Leslie teaches French language courses at Westminster and is also the French Club adviser.
Office: Thompson Clark 419
Campus extension: x7257
E-mail address: [email protected]
Spring 2012 Schedule
• Office Hours: MWF 10:30-11:30 am, and by appointment
• FR 101: Elementary French I. MWF 8:10-9:10 am, OM 211
• FR 102: Elementary French II. MWF 9:20-10:20 am, OM 211
• FR 201: Intermediate French I. MWF 12:50-1:50 pm, TC 210
Other information:
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global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/25692 | Chemistry teacher focuses on interaction, not lecturing
Method allows students to work at their own pace
UPDATED 9:05 AM EDT May 01, 2013
Flipped classroom
The flipped classroom concept is growing in popularity, especially in science and math classes.
Click here to watch Anne Shannon's report.
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global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/25707 | At the end of Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark, the Ark of the Covenant is trundled off into a vault of forgotten wonders, there to languish in bureaucratic obscurity. The U.S. Endangered Species Program has often …
10 Rare Species That May Get a Chance at Survival
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Brandon Keim
Read more by Brandon Keim
Follow @9brandon on Twitter. |
global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/25710 | Making Progress: The Missing Link Between Management and Employees
by G.E. Miller on 7 April 2011 3 comments
I'm always looking for what motivates people to do good work, because I think that it can make us all happier in the workplace. A recent Harvard Business Review worker-motivation survey came up with some great insights.
The study asked 600 managers from varying industries what they thought motivated their workers the most. They were given five options:
1. recognition
2. incentives
3. interpersonal support
4. support for making progress
5. clear goals
Their #1 answer was "recognition." Before I tell you the results on the worker side, take your pick on what makes "a great workday" for you.
Researches analyzed more than 12,000 worker diary entries and there was a clear winner: making progress. On over 76% of "great work days," employees made a reference to making progress — far more than any other factor. Does the answer surprise you a bit?
The Lazy Worker Stereotype
The "progress" finding might prove a bit surprising because a perception exists that many workers, given the opportunity to slack off, will do so. This common misconception often lead to misguided incentive plans.
Americans aren't lazy. We want to earn our keep. And management wants us to earn our keep as well (so they can earn theirs). It's the common ground — the missing link, if you will — to a super productive workplace.
If an organization can work with its employees to remove roadblocks instead of creating new ones and help employees outline and achieve clear objectives, then they are likely to have a very inspired work environment.
The Business Review rated the "progress" finding as a "Breakthrough Idea of 2010." All managers and non-managers should take note. It might result in a happier workplace for everyone.
What's Next?
If you're not in management and you're not happy about your current work situation, does "making progress" resonate with you?
If it does, what's next isn't exactly easy. First, you'll have to figure out what roadblocks keep you from more progress in the workplace. Is it something internal that you need to address? Or are there other roadblocks that you need to address with management?
If these roadblocks are factors that are out of your hand, make a list and discuss constructive solutions with key decision-makers. If they are good managers, they should be open to ideas.
If you're the key decision-maker, what can you do to make your employees' jobs easier? Make a list, discuss it with other managers and your employees, and then take the steps necessary to help people get things done.
It may not solve all problems overnight, but it'll put things in motion. And that's what I call "progress."
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Autonomy is the best, and really only thing I care about at work, as long as I'm making enough money to pay my bills.
Guest's picture
Yeah, Kevin has a point. I mean, issues have been brought up to management in my company for years, but nothing has been done. I have given up on trying to receive recognition whether verbally or in compensation, and I've lost all motivation to further myself here since all I got was more work with less pay. I'm getting a check to pay for my bills, and that's that. I am trading hours for dollars.
Andrea Karim's picture
I'm sort of surprised that "money" wasn't on that list at all. |
global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/25717 | TY - BOOK DB - /z-wcorg/ DP - http://worldcat.org ID - 32387216 LA - English T1 - Bury me standing : the Gypsies and their journey A1 - Fonseca, Isabel., David Lindroth Inc.,, PB - Alfred A. Knopf CY - New York Y1 - 1995/// SN - 0679406786 9780679406785 AB - After the revolutions of 1989, the author lived and traveled with the Gypsies of Bulgaria, Poland, the Czech Republic and Slovakia, the former Yugoslavia, Romainia, and Albania -- listening to their stories and recording their attempts to become something more than despised outsiders. In this book, alongside unforgettable portraits of individuals -- the poet, the politician, the child prostitute- - are vivid insights into the wit, language, wisdom, and taboos of the Roma. The author also traces their long-ago exodus out of India and their history of relentless persecution: enslaved by the princes of medieval Romania; massacred by the Nazis in what the Roma call "the Devouring"; forcibly assimilated by the communist regime; and, most recently, evicted from their settlements by nationalistic mobs in the new "democracies" of the East, and under violent attack in the Western countries to which many have fled. ER - |
global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/25722 | Changes: Arcturis
Back to page
m (adding ID to infobox, replaced: {{Stub/Mob}} {{npcbox |image =Arcturis.jpg | name = Arcturis | gender = Male | race = Spirit beast | creature = Beast | level = 74 | type = Rare Elite | health = 15423 | aggro = {{aggro|0|0}} | repfaction = | facti...)
Line 2: Line 2:
|image =Arcturis.jpg
|image =Arcturis.jpg
| name = Arcturis
| name = Arcturis|id=38453
| gender = Male
| gender = Male
| race = Spirit beast
| race = Spirit beast
Latest revision as of 19:34, August 13, 2012
CombatMobEliteRare 32Arcturis
Gender Male
Race Spirit beast (Beast)
Level 74 Rare Elite
Health 15423
Reaction Alliance Horde
Location Grizzly Hills
See Icon-3D-48x48
Pet information
Family Spirit beast
Arcturis is a level 74 spirit beast found in Grizzly Hills. He's one of the four Spirit Beasts known, and is the first Spirit Beast to have the look of a bear.
Trivia Edit
• The name Arcturis is likely inspired by the name Arcturus, the name of the brightest star in the constellation Boötes, which in turn is derived from the Greek word άρκτος, meaning "bear".
• Arcturus is also the name of a villain from Starcraft, Arcturus Mengsk
Notes Edit
• Despite being a rare creature, Arcturis is not on the list of creatures needed for the Achievement zone stormpeaks 03 [Northern Exposure] or the Achievement zone dragonblight 09 [Frostbitten] achievements. He was solely added as a hunter pet.
• Arcturis is rumored to be on a 21 hour spawn timer that begins from time of kill/tame. This timer DOES reset with server downs and maintenance days.
• Although, spawn times have been reported from as short of a time as 6 hours, to longer times, upwards of 72 hours.
External links Edit
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global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/25723 | Dwarven Fishing Pole
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Inv weapon rifle 01
No need to sit around an toss a silly worm in the pond for hours on end. Just get our your trusty Dwarven Fishing Pole and take the fight to the fish!
Dwarves are driven creatures. Dwarves do not like to be seen as fools, especially by goblins. As Steeltoes sat in the rocking boat with Seecrek, dead fish raining down upon them, he swore to best the goblin at his own game.
The dwarven fishing pole is a rifle with a long stock and a short barrel. Its range is short, but any dwarf who would fish with a gun would have no trouble facing down an orc at close range with the same weapon. This rifle also is ideal in situations where the target is charging.MM&M 196
Icon-shortcutSee also: Goblin Fishing Pole
The Dwarven Fishing Pole is a quest reward from the Alliance quest Murloc Poachers which starts with Dockmaster Baren in Lakeshire in Redridge Mountains.
Contrary to its name, it cannot be used for Fishing.
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global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/25728 | Quest:The Forgotten Pools (2)
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Revision as of 18:50, August 11, 2010 by Gourra (Talk | contribs)
Horde 32 The Forgotten Pools
StartTonga Runetotem
EndTonga Runetotem
Level13 (Requires 10)
CategoryNorthern Barrens
Reputation+150 Thunder Bluff
NextA Growing Problem
Search the bottom of the Forgotten Pools northwest of Crossroads.
• Explore the waters of the Forgotten Pools
Have you felt the tremors, <class>? Something has cleaved this land in two. But we druids can sense other tremors, as well.
Life is stirring in lands once dry and lifeless. The oases around Crossroads are suddenly blooming. I can sense a power leaking its way to the surface, but from where? Is it related to the disaster that shattered the Barrens?
We must find the source. Travel to the Forgotten Pools, northwest of the Crossroads. Search its waters for a source of power, then return here.
Have you been to the Forgotten Pools, <name>? Did you find anything?
You found a fissure in the earth, with power emanating form it? Strange. Something is causing that oasis to bubble over suddenly with life.
Come, <class> - there is something else I'd like you to investigate with me.
Quest progression
1. Official horde mini-icon [13] The Forgotten Pools
2. Official horde mini-icon [13] A Growing Problem
1. Official horde mini-icon [15] Flushing Out Verog
2. Official horde mini-icon [16] Verog the Dervish
Patch changes
External links
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global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/25730 | Server:Trollbane US/Time Gnomes
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< Server:Trollbane US
This is a silly article
'Time Gnomes' is a machinima production by Witty Wizard, created and copyrighted by Canadian Robert Moran, also called Rurikar. There will be 10 episodes, one every Friday until Blizzcon.
Plot Edit
In the year 2022, WoW had just released its seventh expansion pack, a total of 28 CDs. Three gnomes, Mojache the Mage, Steve (assumed to be a Warrior, though possibly mage]), and Jimmy the Mage, from the Server:Trollbane stumbled across a quest from the fourth expansion pack, but with a new reward. The reward was a 'powerful plot-device whistle', kinda like in Super Mario Brothers 3, that allowed them to travel back to the year 2007. These level 99 Hero class Gnomes have 15 extra years of game knowledge, and abilities and spells that were not really unique to the game but looked totally-kind-of-awsome. these three gnomes formed a Guild, they wanted the name 'Funky Town', but some other jerks took that name so they chose 'Time Gnomes' instead. Mojache, thinking that the show had a stupid plot that was not as good as their previous work, Jimmy: The World of Warcraft Story, decides to quit. To replace Mojache, the group holds auditions. A warrior in tier 3 who dances and sings about epics, a goblin hunter, a naked night elf (Thrown in because controversial movies do not have to have good storylines), and the villain, a rogue named Ming, who refuses to talk to anyone with less than 2300 arena ranking, all try for the part and fail. For cutting him out of the plot, Ming vows revenge. Later, a talking Siamese, named Prof. Twinkelbottom, sends them to liberate Stormwind from the horrors of Ming. Ming captures them and reveals his evil plan is to use the Kunuck cannon to change all the mage's place of residence to Alberta, Canada, making them unable to qualify for arena tournaments, destroying the class. When it was pointed out to them that Mages are only for raiding and giving impolite people food and water, he decides to just delete all of them. Then the gnomes use an over-powered but under-used racial ability to escape their bondage. They then mention WoWWiki.
On August 18th, 2007 Episode 3 was released and the creator of Time Gnomes (Witty Wizard) stated that the series is probably at an end.
External links Edit
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global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/25731 | Talk:Seer's Signet
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Revision as of 03:15, November 23, 2007 by Drakonrage (Talk | contribs)
as good as the Ring of Power (epic spellcaster Ring) that drops off of Lucifron but with better stats(at least for a warlock)
And, presumably, this is the ring in the 'Jimmy: The World of Warcraft Story.'
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global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/25732 | Thel'zan's Phylactery
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Revision as of 17:58, June 6, 2009 by Coobra (Talk | contribs)
Inv misc urn 01
Source Edit
Thel'zan's Phylactery
Thel'zan's Phylactery
Thel'zan's Phylactery appears after killing Icestorm in the Dragonblight. [63, 27]
It is also provided for the quest Official alliance mini-icon [73] Finality
As a quest objective Edit
Notes Edit
While on the Changing Icestorm, talk to "Wyrmbait", tell him to get Icestorm, wait for the harpoons to catch her and unload from range. Once she dies, the phylactery will drop on the ground for all to loot.
External links Edit
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global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/25733 | Changes: Townlong Steppes
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{{Infobox zone
{{Infobox zone
|name=Townlong Steppes
|name=Townlong Steppes
|level=88 - 89
Line 167: Line 166:
[[ru:Пустыня Тан-Лун]]
[[ru:Пустыня Тан-Лун]]
[[Category:Future zones]]
[[Category:Mists of Pandaria zones]]
[[Category:Pandaria zones]]
[[Category:Pandaria zones]]
[[Category:Townlong Steppes| ]]
[[Category:Townlong Steppes| ]]
Latest revision as of 20:44, July 4, 2013
Neutral 32 Townlong Steppes
Level 88 - 89
RacesIconSmall Pandaren MaleIconSmall Pandaren Female Pandaren
IconSmall Yaungol Yaungol
IconSmall Mantid Mantid
IconSmall Mogu Mogu
Major settlementsLongying Outpost
Gao-Ran Battlefront
Minor settlementsnone
LocationNorthwestern Pandaria
Sources: World of Warcraft: Mists of Pandaria β
Townlong Steppes is located in the northwestern half of Pandaria, secluded by the Great Wall that runs along its eastern border. The Shado-Pan are fighting to the last pandaren against a host of different forces. The yaungol attack from the northeast, attempting to drive their way into Kun-Lai Summit, while the insect mantid push their way from the south and west, striking deep into pandaren territory and striking at the Gao-Ran Battlefront and Niuzao Temple. The mogu claim the northern-most islands, enslaving the indigenous cloud serpents, while the sha, bringers of fear and hatred, infiltrate the deepest catacombs.
According to the map of Pandaria presented at BlizzCon 2011, it appears there may be a dungeon or raid situated here named the Mantid Colony. It appears to be located in the fortress (ruins?) on one of the western islands labelled Niuzao Temple. This may have changed since the conference, as it now appears that another named dungeon, the Siege of Niuzao Temple, will be located on the island closest to the temple to the southwest.
Geography Edit
The contiguous areas of the steppes consist of grass-covered hills sprinkled with red-leafed trees. The northeastern areas are more sparse, with great rocky crags, mostly taken by the yaungol. A deep divide separates the bulk of the steppes from the Dread Wastes, and within this divide is a marsh and river that leads out to the sea. There is also a small pocket of bog or marsh situated in the eastern side of the steppes, south of Longying Outpost.
There are a handful of islands that make up the western half of the steppes. The southwestern-most and western island are both taken by the mantid, with their great central trees and pod-like architecture. The Niuzao Temple island is indicative of the grassy hills of the greater steppes, though the mantid have infiltrated here, as well as the sha in the catacombs beneath the temple. The northern-most island has the most caves and is home to sprites and cloud serpents, dotted with ancient ruins. More steep hills can be found here, as well as a heavy mogu presence.
Travel Edit
Getting there Edit
Both factions will typically access Townlong Steppes from the Ox Gate in western Kun-Lai Summit.
Flight Master locations Edit
Neutral 15 Longying Outpost
Neutral 15 Gao-Ran Battlefront
Neutral 15 Rensai's Watchpost
Neutral 15 Shado-Pan Garrison
Adjacent areas Edit
Inhabitants Edit
Classification Type
Beast Beavers
Dragonkin Cloud serpents
Elemental Mistlurkers
Humanoid Grummle
Undead Banshees
Resources Edit
Notable characters Edit
Main article: Townlong Steppes NPCs
Quests Edit
Main article: Townlong Steppes quests
Areas of interest Edit
Inv misc idol 05
Maps Edit
Dungeons Edit
Dungeon Name Level Range Group Size Approximate Run Time
Instance portal blue Siege of Niuzao Temple 90 (Heroic) 5-man ??
Subzones Edit
WoW Icon 16x16 In-game
Media Edit
Images Edit
Video Edit
MoP Beta - Townlong Steppes(02:36)
Townlong Steppes beta flyover
Patch changes Edit
References Edit
1. ^ Zone Previews. Official World of Warcraft: Mists of Pandaria site (US). Retrieved on 2011-10-22.
Zone Previews. Official World of Warcraft: Mists of Pandaria site (EU). Retrieved on 2011-10-25.
External links Edit
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• you always see on msnbc and shit about how "whole families are addicted to opium" i drank strong tea, none of that poppy seed shit real latex, so strong it was impossible to move for hours for 8 weeks every day twice a day. i stopped because i finally ran out, i panicked so much out of fear of the terrible withdrawal that was coming my way and i was surprised when i didn't feel any symptoms at all. i don't know if i am immune to the withdrawal or something but i think the news stories are bull.
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Lord Ara Darzi discusses innovation in health care
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Establishing Turkey as a medical travel destination
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Making a good hospital great
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global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/25816 |
Feature of XCache
• C Code Generator, reduce human mistake.
• Running on PHP_4_3/PHP_4_4 stablly
• Support and tested on all lastest php cvs branches, such as PHP_4_3 PHP_4_4 PHP_5_1 PHP_5_2 HEAD
• Optimized opcode cacher
• Readonly Cacher Protection that prevent the cache from corrupted by php-core/extension code other than XCache itself.
• Optimizer [TODO]
• Encoder/Decoder?(Loader) [TODO]
• Disassembler. to see how your php script is compiled into opcode. (not with enterprise encoder)
• Atomic get/set/inc/dec api operation on var cache for php scripters.
• A XCache Uptime statistics collector (enable by server admin), show you how stable each XCache version is on each php version. [TODO]
• Self sane test at build time, discover c struct changes within php script engine. catch up with new php version easier. see a real life example (notice the message 18, 19)
• Auto disable itself if the cache is corrupted [TODO]
• real life testcase framework, this include: [TOSHARE]
• builtin Coverager + its display from web, to see how much script you have tested. (in repo)
• the testcase+Coverager make sure all YOUR real life Applications is running correctly when
• after enabling XCache
• after upgrading php4 to php5
• after upgrading php4/5 to php6
• Administrator Script [TOSHARE]
• [TODO]: It's in my TODO list |
global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/25833 | id summary reporter owner description type status component version severity resolution keywords cc stage has_patch needs_docs needs_tests needs_better_patch easy ui_ux 11499 The default clean session will certainly not work with a huge session database batiste nobody "Hi, I have a huge session table that is about 1 month old. I have is gigabytes of session data. I really doubt that the default cleanup will work properly. I have to admit I didn't try but if the script has to collect gigabytes of session it certainly not gonna work. Here is the script I use instead : http://pastie.org/550367 What you guys think about that? Do you think it could make sense to integrate something like this instead of the default one or it's a bad idea?" closed Core (Management commands) master invalid cleanup, session Unreviewed 0 0 0 0 |
global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/25836 | Skip to end of metadata
Go to start of metadata
There are two types of administrative tasks in Atlassian OnDemand.
• Global settings that affect your whole site and all applications, e.g. managing user groups, creating projects, and configuring the look and feel for your site.
• Application-specific settings that apply for an application only.
Accessing the administration console
Administration tasks are carried out in the administration console.
To navigate to the administration console: In Atlassian OnDemand, log in as an administrator. At the top right of the screen, choose the cog icon , and then choose <product> Admin (for example 'JIRA Admin').
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global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/25837 | id summary reporter owner description type status priority milestone component version severity resolution keywords cc focuses 17321 small change: pass int to wp_redirect niallkennedy nacin "wp_redirect expects an integer value for the ""status"" variable. The wp_redirect function passes the variable to PHP's header() function, which also expects an integer. http://core.trac.wordpress.org/browser/tags/3.1.2/wp-includes/pluggable.php#L873 Pass an integer value instead of a string in WP Query." defect (bug) closed normal 3.2 Query normal fixed has-patch |
global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/25838 | id,summary,reporter,owner,description,type,status,priority,milestone,component,version,severity,resolution,keywords,cc,focuses 17641,Tweaks and optimizations for Twenty Eleven images,demetris,iandstewart,"See tweaked images in the linked ZIP file. The tweaks are: 1. A light grey border added to the preview image of the default colour scheme (light.png) so that it works better against the white background of the default Dashboard theme. 2. Lossless compression of all PNG images of 2011. 3. Removal of metadata from the JPEG headers and from their thumbnails, which saves quite a few kilobytes. I run the PNG images through optipng, advpng, and then optipng again, at extreme settings. The JPEG images I simply dropped on to Trimage (a tool similar to, and inspired by, ImageOptim for OSX). A further optimization for the JPEG headers would be to apply lossy compression, which will give us huge gains in size. I will open another ticket for that.",enhancement,closed,normal,3.2,Bundled Theme,3.2,normal,fixed,has-patch,, |
global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/25839 | Downloading Source Archives
Revision Information
• Revision slug: Developer_Guide/Source_Code/Downloading_Source_Archives
• Revision title: Downloading Source Archives
• Revision id: 46422
• Created:
• Creator: HPN
• Is reviewed? Yes
• Reviewed:
• Reviewed by: Jay
• Is approved? Yes
• Is current revision? No
• Comment /* Releases */ changing the link to
Revision Source
Revision Content
The Mozilla source code can be obtained either by downloading a source archive, or by using a CVS (source control) client. If you are just starting out, or you wish to build a particular Mozilla product release, downloading a source archive is recommended. Otherwise, visit here to get Mozilla Source Code Via CVS.
Before attempting a build, please review the system requirements and build instructions.
This code is covered by the Netscape Public License and Mozilla Public License. Please read the terms of these licenses before altering or copying the source code.
Export Restrictions
The source code for a release can be found on the FTP server in the "source" subdirectory of the release you want to acquire. The directory structure on the FTP server is as follows:
where names not in all uppercase are verbatim. PROJECT has to be replaced by e.g. firefox or thunderbird, and RELEASE by e.g. 1.5 or 1.5b1. The base for such a path is Some projects do not provide source code via FTP - in this case, you should use CVS (if possible).
The easiest way to find the source code of the release you want is to start at , and navigate your way through to it, bearing in mind the directory structure convention listed above. To navigate the FTP server, use either a browser like e.g. Firefox or an FTP client of your choice.
For example, the Firefox source code can be found in .
The entire source tree is not available for download over FTP.
At the moment, source tarballs of the nightly snapshots are not provided. Currently we don't have nightly source tarballs: You can download a trunk nightly source tarball from where? This tarball will have the CVS files prepopulated so that the tarball can be updated from anonymous CVS.
Source tarballs are packaged as bzipped tarballs. To unpack a tarball from a unix-like shell (or the cygwin shell), type:
tar -xjf <source-file.tar.bz2>
Note for Windows users: using WinRAR or WinZip to unpack source archives will not work. WinZip does not support *.bz2 files, and the archive contains zero-length files which are not unpacked properly. For windows, use for example 7 zip software.
interwiki link
{{ wiki.languages( { "fr": "fr/T\u00e9l\u00e9chargement_du_code_source_de_Mozilla", "ja": "ja/Download_Mozilla_Source_Code" } ) }}
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global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/25861 | Documentation Web Servers Beat
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= Drupal renamed to Drupal6 =
Starting with Fedora 15, the drupal package and all module packages have been renamed from drupal* to drupal6*. In addition, all filesystem locations wil reflect this change. Simply copying your old content to the new locations should work, as the versions should be the same.
Revision as of 23:54, 21 January 2013
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global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/25862 | QA:Testcase Migration of guests with more than 4GB of memory
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Revision as of 09:12, 13 April 2011 by Mamasun (Talk | contribs)
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This test case checks that basic live migration using libvirt between two Fedora 12 hosts works correctly. NOTE: this testcase explicitly requires both the source and destination machines to have more than 4GB of memory to safely execute. Since KVM does support swapping, you may be able to get away with less memory in the machine, but your performance will probably suffer.
How to test
1. On the source machine, edit the guest so that it has exactly 4096MB of memory.
2. On the source machine, start the guest.
$ ping <guest-IP>
4. Now on the source machine execute:
5. Shutdown the guest on the destination machine. Once it's successfully shut down, edit the guest on the source machine and give it random, differing amounts of memory: 4097MB, 8192MB, etc. Then repeat the test for these differing amounts of memory.
1. Fedora 12
2. Fedora 11
3. RHEL-4
4. RHEL-5
5. Windows XP
6. Windows Vista
7. SUSE
Expected Results
|
global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/25865 | GHC: Ticket #5806: Make TimeLocale an instance of Def <p> Whenever I use formatTime it's always with defaultTimeLocale. Why not make <a class="missing wiki">TimeLocale?</a> an instance of Def from Data.Default? <a class="ext-link" href=""><span class="icon"></span></a> where def = defaultTimeLocale. </p> <p> This would mean having to add data-default to GHC's distribution, but it's rather small and useful. The alternative is adding the instance in the data-default package, but then data-default depends on time-locale and we're still encouraging use of defaultTimeLocale. Swings and roundabouts. </p> <p> Just an idea. </p> en-us GHC Trac 1.0.1 snoyberg Mon, 23 Jan 2012 06:10:05 GMT <p> I like this idea. I also like the side-effect a lot: having Default in GHC's distribution would be a good thing IMO. I already use it in a number of places, and would encourage others to do so as well. </p> Ticket asr Mon, 23 Jan 2012 14:37:04 GMT cc set <ul> <li><strong>cc</strong> <em>andres.sicard.ramirez@…</em> added </li> </ul> Ticket igloo Tue, 31 Jan 2012 22:41:00 GMT status changed; difficulty, resolution set <ul> <li><strong>status</strong> changed from <em>new</em> to <em>closed</em> </li> <li><strong>difficulty</strong> set to <em>Unknown</em> </li> <li><strong>resolution</strong> set to <em>wontfix</em> </li> </ul> <p> You mean "data-default depends on old-locale" I assume? If so then that's not a problem, as everyone will already have old-locale anyway as it comes with GHC and the Haskell Platform. Adding packages to GHC unnecessarily is a bad idea as it increases our workload, and makes it harder for other people to maintain them. </p> Ticket |
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Hadoop MapReduce is awesome, but it seems a little bit crazy when you have to write this to count words. Wouldn't it be nicer if you could simply write what you want to do:
val lines = fromTextFile("hdfs://in/...")
val counts = lines.flatMap(_.split(" "))
.map(word => (word, 1))
persist(toTextFile(counts, "hdfs://out/...", overwrite=true))
This is what Scoobi is all about. Scoobi is a Scala library that focuses on making you more productive at building Hadoop applications. It stands on the functional programming shoulders of Scala and allows you to just write what you want rather than how to do it.
Scoobi is a library that leverages the Scala programming language to provide a programmer friendly abstraction around Hadoop's MapReduce to facilitate rapid development of analytics and machine-learning algorithms.
See the install instructions in the QuickStart section of the User Guide.
• Familiar APIs - the DList API is very similar to the standard Scala List API
• Strong typing - the APIs are strongly typed so as to catch more errors at compile time, a major improvement over standard Hadoop MapReduce where type-based run-time errors often occur
• Ability to parameterize with rich data types - unlike Hadoop MapReduce, which requires that you go off implementing a myriad of classes that implement the Writable interface, Scoobi allows DList objects to be parameterized by normal Scala types including value types (e.g. Int, String, Double), tuple types (with arbitrary nesting) as well as case classes
• Support for multiple types of I/O - currently built-in support for text, Sequence and Avro files with the ability to implement support for custom sources/sinks
• Optimization across library boundaries - the optimizer and execution engine will assemble Scoobi code spread across multiple software components so you still keep the benefits of modularity
• It's Scala - being a Scala library, Scoobi applications still have access to those precious Java libraries plus all the functional programming and consise syntax that makes developing Hadoop applications very productive
• Apache V2 licence - just like the rest of Hadoop
Getting Started
To get started, read the getting started steps and the section on distributed lists. The remaining sections in the User Guide provide further detail on various aspects of Scoobi's functionality.
The user mailing list is at Please use it for questions and comments!
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Octocat-spinner-32 notes
Octocat-spinner-32 project
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• Java SE 6
• Scala 2.8.1
• Jackson 1.7.0
How To Use
First, specify Metrics as a dependency:
val codaRepo = "Coda Hale's Repository" at ""
val metrics = "com.yammer" %% "metrics" % "2.0.0-BETA5"
(Or whatever it takes for you to get Maven or Ivy happy.)
Second, instrument your classes:
import java.util.concurrent.TimeUnit
import com.yammer.metrics.Instrumented
class ThingFinder extends Instrumented {
// measure the # of records per second returned
private val resultsMeter = metrics.meter("results", "records", TimeUnit.SECONDS)
// measure the # of milliseconds each query takes and the number of
// queries per second being performed
private val dbTimer = metrics.timer("database", TimeUnit.MILLISECONDS, TimeUnit.SECONDS)
def findThings() = {
val results = dbTimer.time {
// perform an action which gets timed
// calculate the rate of new things found
// etc.
Metrics comes with four types of metrics:
• Gauges are instantaneous readings of values (e.g., a queue depth).
• Counters are 64-bit integers which can be incremented or decremented.
• Meters are increment-only counters which keep track of the rate of events. They provide mean rates, plus exponentially-weighted moving averages which use the same formula that the UNIX 1-, 5-, and 15-minute load averages use.
• Timers record the duration as well as the rate of events. In addition to the rate information that meters provide, timers also provide the count, maximum, minimum, mean, standard deviation, median, 75th percentile, 95th percentile, 98th percentile, 99th percentile, and 99.9th percentile of timings. (They do so using a method called reservoir sampling which allows them to efficiently keep a small, statistically representative sample of all the measurements.)
Metrics also has support for health checks:
Metrics.registerHealthCheck("database", new HealthCheck {
def check = {
if (Database.isConnected) {
} else {
Result.unhealthy("Not connected to database")
Third, start collecting your metrics.
If you're simply running a benchmark, you can print registered metrics to standard error every 10s like this:
Metrics.enableConsoleReporting(10, TimeUnit.SECONDS) // print to STDERR every 10s
If you're writing a Servlet-based web service, you can add MetricsServlet to an internally-accessible context. It'll respond to the following URIs:
• /metrics: A JSON object of all registered metrics and a host of JVM metrics.
• /ping: A simple text/plain "pong" for load-balancers.
• /healthcheck: Runs through all registered HealthCheck instances and reports the results. Returns a 200 OK if all succeeded, or a 500 Internal Server Error if any failed.
• /threads: A text/plain dump of all threads and their stack traces.
Copyright (c) 2010 Coda Hale,
Published under The MIT License, see LICENSE
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Simple background loops framework for ruby
branch: loops3
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Octocat-spinner-32 bin
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Octocat-spinner-32 loops.gemspec
Simple background loops framework
loops is a small and lightweight framework for Ruby on Rails, Merb and other ruby frameworks created to support simple background loops in your application which are usually used to do some background data processing on your servers (queue workers, batch tasks processors, etc).
Warning: If you use some pre-2.0 version of this plugin, read a dedicated paragraph below.
What would you use it for?
Originally loops plugin was created to make our own loops code a bit more organized. We used to have dozens of different modules with methods that were called with script/runner and then used with nohup and other painful backgrounding techniques. When you have such a number of loops/workers to run in background it becomes a nightmare to manage them on a regular basis (restarts, code upgrades, status/health checking, etc).
After a few takes on writing our scripts in a more organized way we were able to generalize most of the code so now our loops started looking like a classes with a single mandatory public method called run. Everything else (spawning many workers, managing them, logging, backgrounding, pid-files management, etc) is handled by the plugin itself.
But there are dozens of libraries like this! Why do we need yet another one?
The major idea behind this small project was to create a deadly simple and yet robust framework to be able to run some tasks in background and do not think about spawning many workers, restarting them when they die, etc. So, if you need to be able to run either one or many copies of your worker and you do not want to think about re-spawning your scripts when they die and you do not want to spend megabytes of RAM on separate copies of Ruby interpreter (when you run each copy of your loop as a separate process controlled by monit/god/etc), then you should try this framework – you're going to like it.
How to install?
There are two options when approaching db-charmer installation:
• using the gem (recommended)
• install as a Rails plugin
To install as a gem, add this to your environment.rb:
config.gem 'loops'
And then run the command:
sudo rake gems:install
To install loops as a Rails plugin you need to do rhw following:
./script/plugin install git://
This will install the whole package in your vendor/plugins directory. For merb applications, just check out the code and place it to the vendor/plugins directory.
After you are done with the installation, you need to generate binary and configuration files by running:
./script/generate loops
This will create the following list of files:
• ./script/loops - binary file that will be used to manage your loops
• ./config/loops.yml - example configuration file
• ./app/loops/simple.rb - REALLY simple loop example
• ./app/loops/queue_loop.rb - simple ActiveMQ queue worker
How to use?
Here is a simple loop scaffold for you to start from (put this file to app/loops/hello_world_loop.rb):
class HelloWorldLoop < Loops::Base
def run
with_period_of(1) do # period is in seconds
debug("Hello, debug log!")
sleep(config['sleep_period']) # Do something "useful" and make it configurable
debug("Hello, debug log (yes, once again)!")
When you have your loop ready to use, add the following lines to your (maybe empty yet) config/loops.yml file:
type: simple
sleep_period: 10
This is it! To manage your loop, just run one of the following commands:
• To list all configured loops:
$ ./script/loops list
• To run all enabled (actually non-disabled) loops in foreground:
$ ./script/loops start
• To run all enabled loops in background:
$ ./script/loops start -d
• To run specific loop in background:
$ ./script/loops start hello_world -d
• To see all possible options:
$ ./script/loops help
Notice: If you use loops as a gem, you will get a system binary called loops which you could use instead of your <tt>./script/loops<tt> binary:
$ loops help
How to run more than one worker?
If you want to have more than one copy of your worker running, that is as simple as adding one option to your loop configuration:
type: simple
sleep_period: 10
workers_number: 1
This workers_number option would tell loops manager to spawn more than one copy of your loop and run them in parallel. The only thing you'd need to do is to remember about concurrent work of your loops. For example, if you have some kind of database table with elements you need to process, you can create a simple database-based locks system or use any memcache-based locks.
How to run more than one loop using the same class?
You can run the same loop class with different configuration parameters by explicitly identifying the loop class to execute:
type: simple
loop_name: some_module/my_worker
language: English
type: simple
loop_name: some_module/my_worker
language: French
Now two independent sets of loops are using the same class SomeModule::MyWorkerLoop customized by the language parameter.
How to initialize the loop before workers run?
You can run initialization code before starting loop workers by implementing the initialize_loop class method. If initialize_loop raises an error, then the loop is not started and the error is logged.
class HelloWorldLoop < Loops::Base
def self.initialize_loop(config)
raise "Missing required dependency" unless File.exist?(config['my_dependency'])
def run
with_period_of(1) do # period is in seconds
debug("Hello, debug log!")
I want to keep my loop running on machine reboots. How to do it?
We use monit to keep loop monitors runnings. You could use something like this in your configs:
check process loop-slow_logs with pidfile /your/project/current/tmp/pids/
group loops
start program "/your/project/current/script/loops start slow_logs -e loops -p tmp/pids/ -d"
stop program "/your/project/current/script/loops stop slow_logs -e loops -p tmp/pids/"
ActiveMQ-based workers? What's that?
In some of our worker loops we poll ActiveMQ queue and process its items to perform some asynchronous operations. So, to make it simpler for us to create such a workers, we've created really simple loops class extension that wraps your code with basic queue polling/acknowledging code and as the result, you can create a loops like this:
class MyQueueLoop < Loops::Queue
def process_message(message)
debug "Received a message: #{message.body}"
debug "sleeping..."
sleep(0.5 + rand(10) / 10.0) # do something "useful" with the message :-)
debug "done..."
With configs like this:
# An example of a STOMP queue-based loop
type: queue
port: 61613
queue_name: blah
Of course, this solution scales perfectly and to make your queue processing faster you just need to add more workers (by adding workers_number: N option).
Warning: This type of loops requires you to have the stomp gem installed in your system.
There is this workers_engine option in the config file. What do you use it for?
There are two so called “workers engines” in loops: fork and thread. They're used to control the way process manager would spawn new loops workers: with the fork engine we'll load all the loops classes and then fork ruby interpreter as many times as many workers we need. With the thread engine we'd do instead of forking. Thread engine could be useful if you are sure your loop won't lock ruby interpreter (it does not do native calls, etc) or if you use some interpreter that does not support forks (like jruby).
The default engine is fork.
What Ruby implementations does it work for?
We've tested and used the plugin on MRI 1.8.6/1.8.7 and on JRuby 1.4.0. At this point we do not support demonization in JRuby and never tested the code on Ruby 1.9. Obviously because of JVM limitations you won't be able to use fork workers engine in JRuby, but threaded workers do pretty well.
Recommended version of ruby ro run loops is Ruby Enterprise Edition. This is because we have a support for their Copy-On-Write friendly garbage collector that makes your loops much smaller in memory (since they share the most of the code). Even with one loop process you'd save some memory because your loop monitor process would share most of the memory with the loop itself. When you run on RubyEE, you could use loops stats command to get detailed loops memory stats:
[root@analyics current]# ./script/loops stats
--------- Loops processes ----------
PID PPID VMSize Private Name
9062 1 199.3 MB 32.4 MB loops monitor: activemq
9234 9062 211.9 MB 37.5 MB loop worker: activemq
9251 9062 213.3 MB 38.4 MB loop worker: activemq
9267 9062 211.9 MB 37.1 MB loop worker: activemq
9268 9062 211.9 MB 38.0 MB loop worker: activemq
### Processes: 5
### Total private dirty RSS: 183.33 MB
Migrating from pre-2.0 releases
Before version 2.0 has been released, this code was developed as a Rails plugin only and did not have any versions numbering system in place. So we call all those old versions a pre-2.0 releases. If you use one of those relases (if your loops plugin does not have the VERSION.yml file in the root directory), be careful when upgrading because there are a few incompatible changes we have made in the loops command: -h, -a, -s, -L and -l options were deprecated and replaced with a friendlier word commands. Use loops help to get help.
Who are the authors?
This plugin has been created in for our internal use and then the sources were opened for other people to use. All the code in this package has been developed by Alexey Kovyrin, Dmytro Shteflyuk and Alexey Verkhovsky for and is released under the MIT license. For more details, see LICENSE file.
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Simple blogging software written in Opa
tree: e24d3f1eb4
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Octocat-spinner-32 bsl
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Octocat-spinner-32 opaque.opack
opaque: blogging software written in OPA
opaque is some simple blogging software written in OPA that I'm writing for projectaweek. I got an invite, so I might as well use it!
• MathJax support (uses mathjax CDN)
• Syntax highlighting - for Haskell only at the moment (via shjs.)
• Markdown support via upskirt.
You shouldn't need anything special if you have OPA installed. Just do:
$ make
And you have opaque.exe waiting for you.
If you want to run with opa-cloud (see below) you'll also need haproxy installed on the machine that will start the distribution and do load balancing:
$ brew install haproxy # homebrew
$ aptitude install haproxy # deb/ubuntu
$ yum install haproxy # fedora
# etc...
Supported platforms
POSIX only at the moment. You'd just need to replace the getrusage()/uname() usage inside the native binding to make it work somewhere else, really. Alas, OPA isn't available for windows yet anyway.
Edit the variables in the top-level config.opa file for your blog.
After you've built it, you can either do:
$ make run
Or simply:
$ ./opaque.exe
which will start the HTTP server on port 8080 by default. Admin password will be generated on the first run, and output to server debug console (see 'Destroying DB data' to clean it.)
Naturally your blog is so popular (due to you being awesome) that any normal server by its lonesome would never be able to handle the relentless onslaught of crazed visitors 24/7. Let the cloud save you:
$ make cloud CLOUD_OPTS=...
where 'CLOUD_OPTS' are the options you would normally give to opa-cloud. By default it just launches two instances on localhost. Make sure your own ssh public key is in your ~/.ssh/authorized_keys:
Example: I have two debian machines, pylon1 and pylon2. It's easy to run the system on both of them by doing:
$ make cloud CLOUD_OPTS="--host pylon1 --host pylon2 --haproxy /usr/sbin/haproxy"
Note the path to haproxy, which on debian at least will be in /usr/sbin which resides outside of $PATH by default.
After doing this, you can independently browse to each server with or without the proxy (e.g. http://pylon1:8080 or http://pylon1:8081 or http://pylon2:8081) and you'll still get things like realtime updates, even on different servers (try it yourself!)
Destroying DB data
If you want to clean everything, run:
$ make clean-db
Bugs & Misc
• Email encryption/obfuscation would be nice (without running upskirt on every page render; is there a way to do that at compile time?)
• No RSS
• Google analytics would be nice
• There's some weird behavior with mathjax ATM where you need to double-escape backslashes in order to use inline/block style math. So, don't use \[\alpha\], use \\[\alpha\\] and it should mostly work. Needs to be fixed.
• The Upskirt binding is bound via OCaml. It could probably be useful in its own right, but I don't know how to get it out there (put it on GODI I guess?)
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global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/25901 |
Re: Programming first steps.
On Sun, Nov 16, 2003 at 08:45:51PM +0800, David Palmer wrote:
> I thought that I might make a beginning at learning. I've searched
> the web, found information that goes beyond the definition of
> plethora, so I thought that I'd ask here.
C is useful, stable, has a huge following. C++ is useful, changing, and
has a huge following. You will most likely find people who know C than
C++, and you will often find C++ programmers who write mostly C style
code within C++.
Perl and Python have different histories. Perl was an evolutionary
language whose origin was to replace sed and awk. Python was written as
a full-fledged programming language and benefits from this consistency.
(Can you tell which one I prefer?) Perl has its usefulness, but I often
hear of complaints over maintability when it is use in large projects.
You won't find that in Python.
> I've already decided to use Vim, steep learning curve apparently, but
> comprehensive functionality when you get there. Also extended
> capability with lots of plugins.
Good choice. Can't go wrong with learning vi and vim.
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global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/25910 | Cameron Laird claird at
Sun Oct 20 19:43:30 CEST 2002
In article <mailman.1035069684.26881.python-list at>,
Skip Montanaro <skip at> wrote:
> Lance> Thanks all for the advice.. but I'm still not getting the hostid
> Lance> to which I refer. At work we use the Flexlm license manager. It
> Lance> requires users to send us the hostid of their computer. For
> Lance> example, the computer on which I write this has hostid
> Lance> 00d009b88fca and the hostname is the name of my computer which is
> Lance> MYNEWBOX.
>I seem to recall that Sun's had a CPU-specific hostid. I just checked on a
>Sun I have access to. It has a "hostid" command. So does Linux, at least
>the Mandrake and Red Hat systems to which I have access. My Mac (OS 10.2.1)
>Why not just encapsulate it in a function?
> def hostid():
> return os.popen("hostid").read().strip()
>If executing the hostid command isn't an option, you could write a little
>extension module which calls the gethostid() library function. Both Linux
>and Solaris seem you have it.
Right. hostid is NOT an artifice of FlexLM; it has
a distinguished pedigree that goes back reasonably
far in Unix circles. While POSIX.1 does not include
hostid (or gethostid()), they're present in ISO/IEC
9945-1:1990. They're part of SVr4.
On the other hand, I think HP-UX has dropped hostid.
Did someone in this thread make the point that, if
the requirement is to meet some expectation of the
commercial FlexLM product, then it's natural to
look first to Globetrotter (FlexLM's vendor) for the
necessary information? That's my instinctive
Cameron Laird <Cameron at>
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global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/25911 | Getting SuperUser Authority From Within Running Python Program
Alex Martelli aleax at
Sun Jan 26 16:39:40 CET 2003
Tim Daneliuk wrote:
> I am curious about one thing you said - that setuid is ok for selected
> (compiled) programs but not scripts. If the script has appropriate
> limitations on who can modify it, why is setuid/setgid worse for
> scripts than compiled programs?
A good overview of Unix and Linux security issues is:
In particular, some of the specific issues with setuid scripts, and
why Linux simply ignores the setuid bit on scripts, are explained in:
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global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/25912 | ftp recursively
Paul Rubin http
Thu Mar 20 08:07:00 CET 2008
Jeff Schwab <jeff at schwabcenter.com> writes:
> I thought os.walk was for locally mounted directories... How is it
> relevant on remote filesystems?
Yes, os.walk is for local directories. I thought you wanted to push a
local tree to a remote host. For pulling, yes, you need to do
something different; for example, rsync can handle it for you.
> Don't shoot the messenger, but you're severely confused here. Whether
> you're using ftp, rcp, or rsync is a completely separate issue to
> whether you're running over ssl (which I assume you meant by ssh).
SSL would make more sense but ssh is more commonly used.
> FTP is a work-horse protocol for transferring files. It's going to be
> with us for a long, long time.
Here's what happened when I just tried to use it:
$ ftp localhost
ftp: connect: Connection refused
That is quite common these days. I think ftp doesn't play nicely with
encryption tunnels because of the way it uses a separate port for out
of band signalling, but I never paid close attention, so maybe there's
some other issue with it. I can't think of when the last time was
that I actually used ftp.
> The point of rsync is to keep a local directory tree in sync with a
> remote one, by transferring only change-sets that are conceptually
> similar to patches. If you're only transferring files once, there's
> no particular benefit (AFAIK) to using rsync rather than some kind of
> recursive ftp.
One benefit is that it handles the recursion for you by itself.
Another is that in modern unix environments it's more likely to work
at all (i.e. if there is no ftp server at the target machine).
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General Laws
Section 4B. The state secretary shall, at the close of each regular session of the general court, publish in pamphlet form up to 20,000 copies, of the acts and resolves passed and of any proposed amendments to the constitution passed during such session. The secretary may also apportion the copies among the clerks of the several cities and towns, to be delivered by the clerks to inhabitants who apply for a copy.
The secretary shall also, as soon as any act or resolve is passed, send a copy of the act or resolve to the following: each state department, officer, board or commission whose duties are affected by the act or resolve, the clerks of the several cities and towns, for the use of the inhabitants of those cities and towns, the justices, clerks and registers of courts, district attorneys, sheriffs, justices of the peace authorized to issue warrants and take bail, county law libraries and all incorporated law libraries and branch libraries maintained by them; provided, however, upon written request approved by the secretary, additional copies may be distributed to the above list and to any other public officials whose duties in the secretary’s opinion require the use of such copies. The secretary may also send copies to such persons as apply for an act or resolve, charging not less than the cost of producing and distributing the copy.
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General Laws
Section 2A-105. Subject to the provisions of Sections 2A-304(3) and 2A-305(3), with respect to goods covered by a certificate of title issued under a statute of the commonwealth or of another jurisdiction, compliance and the effect of compliance or noncompliance with a certificate of title statute are governed by the law (including the conflict of laws rules) of the jurisdiction issuing the certificate until the earlier of (a) surrender of the certificate, or (b) four months after the goods are removed from that jurisdiction and thereafter until a new certificate of title is issued by another jurisdiction.
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global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/25923 | Take the 2-minute tour ×
First of all, let me show you guys the equation in question.
CFL Equation
In this equation S, V, and t are known constants. CFL is also known. We have an initial value for D, and we have no idea what k is.
What I need to do is find ideal values for both D and k that would minimize the residuals squared of a calculated CFL and a measured CFL. Using residuals squared is just a way for me to check if they're the best possible values, but it's fine if there's another way to go about this that uses some other method.
The residual squared is just the absolute value of the difference between the calculated and measured CFLs, which is then squared. The lower the residual squared, the better the fit we have. So I need the smallest possible residual squared resulting from putting both k and D into the equation. That'll result in a calculated CFL, which I can then compare to a measured CFL, allowing me to calculate the residual squared.
My first idea for how to do this, since I'm not sure how to use Excel equations, was to fix the value of D (since we have an initial starting value to work from) and then vary through different values of k, putting them into the equation to find a calculated CFL, and comparing that to the measured to find the residuals squared, until I find one that results with the smallest residuals squared. Then I fix k at that ideal value, and vary D until I find the smallest residual there as well. Then I fix D again, and go back to varying k. My idea was that I could keep bouncing back and forth like that until both D and k were within a certain percentage of their previous values. I assumed it would reach some sort of equilibrium with this method
However, the numbers just go crazy, and end up either going to zero or going to infinity. So I need to rework my process. Which is where you guys come in!
How would you go about finding the most ideal values for both D and k, which would result in a calculated CFL closest to the measured one, assuming you are given values for every variable above apart from k? Remember to factor in that the value of D given initially is simply a starting place to work from, and is not the most ideal value.
I've been working on this program for a long time (at least a month), and I'm just stuck as hell and desperate. I was hoping you guys could help me out.
Here are some initial values to work with:
S = 19.634954
V = 12.271846
D (initial) = 0.01016482
CFL (measured) = 0.401
t = 4
k = ?
Thank you for any ideas you might have.
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2 Answers
up vote 1 down vote accepted
As Dean said, your system has two unknowns, and in the general case an infinite number of solutions (different pairs of (D,k)). By fixing D, CFL is a continuous function of k, and as such, you should be able to find a k that gives the CFL you measured (within some accuracy). For this problem (i.e., finding k given CFL) you can use the Goal Seek tool. Here is how:
1) Problem setup: Use the name of the variables to name the cells in which you input their values (Go to Formulas--> Defined Names --> Define Name and give some the name of each variable to a cell). Then input the values of your parameters in these cells, (give k an arbitrary value, eg = 1), and input the formula in cell CFL like: =(S/V)*SQRT(D/k)*(ERF(SQRT(k*t))+SQRT(k*t/PI())*EXP(-k*t)) Again, note that S,V,D,k and t are defined as named ranges.
2) Problem Solution: Go To Data --> Data Tools --> What-If Analysis --> Goal Seek and enter the following parameters: Set Cell: CFL To value: 0.401 By changing cell: k
This gave me k=0.151759378, which results in CFL = 0.401261265054823.
enter image description here
I hope this helps?
Edit: Finding some solution pairs using VBA:
1) Place the measured CFL value in a cell (I chose H2).
2) Replace named ranges k, D and CFL. I used rngK, rngD and rngCFL, each one starting from row 2 till row 20.
3) Fill down rngD with a step (I took 0.01) using the formula =INDEX(rngD,ROW()-ROW($C$2))+0.01. The first entry of rngD is in cell C2 and has the value 0.01016482. The formula is copied down to all other cells in the range.
4) Fill down rngK with some initial values (I took =1).
5) Fill down the rngCFL range with the formula =(S/V)*SQRT(INDEX(rngD,ROW()-ROW($G$1))/INDEX(rngK,ROW()-ROW($G$1)))*(ERF(SQRT(INDEX(rngK,ROW()-ROW($G$1))*t))+SQRT(INDEX(rngK,ROW()-ROW($G$1))*t/PI())*EXP(-INDEX(rngK,ROW()-ROW($G$1))*t)). I use the ROW() and INDEX() functions to refer to the Range element I need.
6) Finally, use this code in a sub:
Dim iCnt As Long
For iCnt = 1 To Range("rngk").Count
Range("rngCFL")(iCnt).GoalSeek goal:=Range("H2"), changingCell:=Range("rngK")(iCnt)
Next iCnt
The above generates 19 pairs (D,k) that give the measured CFL value.
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Is there a way to automate this process using code? – TheTreeMan May 29 '13 at 16:27
I added an edit that shows how to automate using code. – Ioannis May 30 '13 at 3:02
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You can't solve for two unknown variables in a 1 formula system. However if I take D as given then you have a 1 unknown/1 formula system.
I just simply used 1 column as a guess of k (for me column B. I used another column to represent the calculated CFL with the guessed k (for me column C). I have another column that has either a 1 or -1 (for me column D). Lastly I have a column that represents the absolute value by which I want to increment my guess.
I named cells with the given values of the variables to make it easier to use them.
I started with a guess of k=1. Here are my formulas in my first row which was 7.
C7 =(s/v)*(d/B7)^0.5*(ERF(((B7*t)^0.5))+((B7*t)/PI())^0.5*EXP(-1*B7*t))
nothing in D7 or E7
in row 8: B8=B7+E8+D8 C8==(s/v)*(d/B8)^0.5*(ERF(((B8*t)^0.5))+((B8*t)/PI())^0.5*EXP(-1*B8*t)) D8=1 E8=.01
in row 9 the B and C column is just copied down but D and E are as follows D9==IF(C9>cfl,1,-1) E9==IF(D9=D8,E8,E8/10)
Once you get those in you can just copy down however many rows you want.
What this does is every time the residual of the CFL switches signs the increment's sign will also flip. Additionally, the absolute value of the increment will also shrink by a factor of 10 to give more precision as it goes.
This is by no means the best way to solve your problem but it is a way.
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This is actually a fantastic way of going about it. I think I'll make an attempt using this method if the solver route doesn't pan out! – TheTreeMan May 29 '13 at 16:28
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global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/25924 | Take the 2-minute tour ×
I have a linked server setup in SQL Server 2008R2 (10.5) connecting to an Informix (Atomix) database using the Microsoft OLE DB Provider for ODBC Drivers (which is really pointing at a DSN that uses an ODBC driver). Through this, I can insert records as long as the record I'm inserting does not try to insert a date value. It doesn't matter the delimiter I use around the date value nor the SQL syntax I attempt -- see examples:
INSERT INTO [linkedinformix]...[tablename](daterequested) VALUES (2013-06-27)
SELECT * FROM OPENQUERY(linkedinformix,'INSERT INTO tablename (daterequested)
VALUES (2013-06-21))
The above will give syntax error or a type clash error (or in other cases, if I don't run the provider out of process, will crash SQL Server). I've tried using {}, #, |, and other delimiters around the date value I'm passing and also tried different date formats (06/27/2013, etc.).
If I point Microsoft Access at that same DSN to create a linked table, I can manually write dates to the table, so I know the ODBC driver can handle it.
There must be a simple answer...
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What is the value of the Informix DBDATE environment variable? – FrankComputerAtYmailDotCom Jul 14 '13 at 5:08
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2 Answers
up vote 1 down vote accepted
Informix and DATE types — a fun (complicated) topic. Actually, it is fairly simple from within the Informix world; it is when other systems get involved with different views on how things should be done that it gets tricky.
If things are set up correctly (e.g. as in my environment), you could write in the Informix world:
INSERT INTO tablename(daterequested) VALUES('2013-07-03');
And you could substitute double quotes for single quotes because Informix is lax about the difference unless you hold its hand to the fire and say "I want to be shouted at when I use double quotes".
More elaborately, you could also write:
INSERT INTO tablename(daterequested) VALUES(DATETIME(2013-07-03) YEAR TO DAY);
This will work because (a) the formats for DATETIME are fixed in ISO 8601 (Date/Time Formats) or ISO 9075 (SQL) format and (b) Informix will convert from DATETIME YEAR TO DAY to DATE without any qualms. This is reliable, and doesn't rely on any environment variable settings or other complications, unlike the first version.
You could also reliably write:
INSERT INTO tablename(daterequested) VALUES(MDY(7, 3, 2013));
This uses a function MDY to convert the three integers to a DATE; the order of the arguments is (mnemonically) month, day, year. This is reliable because it doesn't depend on environment variables.
The first notation (using string '2013-07-03') relies on environment variables. The classic variable is $DBDATE; I run with DBDATE=y4md- set in the environment, so strings like '2013-07-03' are interpreted as in ISO 9075. However, the default value for DBDATE is effectively DBDATE=mdy4/ for US-style dates. However again, there are other variables, such as CLIENT_LOCALE, DB_LOCALE, and GL_DATE that all want to get in on the game. I use DBDATE because it gets top priority (and has done since the beginning of time), but the newer (other) variables have their merits. You can also experiment with:
INSERT INTO tablename(daterequested) VALUES(DATE('07/03/2013'))
Note the quotes and the parentheses. The string is interpreted according to the environment variables. Don't try DATE(2013-07-03) because that is equivalent to DATE(2003) (2013 minus 7 is 2006; 2006 - 3 is 2003), and because day 1 was 1900-01-01, day 2003 was 1905-06-16, a Monday.
The SQL standard provides for DATE '2013-03-07' but Informix does not support that parentheses-less notation.
You'll need to stick the SQL Server notations back into the SQL syntax, but the MDY and DATETIME methods will work, and you can finagle the DATE methods into working if you're willing to work with the environment variables or modify the format of the date string to match the expected behaviour.
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Thanks, but none of these worked in my situation. I suspect it's the older version of Informix (Atomix, used by Noble Systems) and/or a proprietary ODBC driver that's the real issue (though MS Access can insert dates somehow when connected through ODBC). – Daryl Jul 11 '13 at 15:43
If the MDY() variant doesn't work, I'm astonished. The DATETIME(...) YEAR TO DAY variant should work too. For those to fail, the driver has to be messing up -- actively, even if not deliberately, breaking -- the SQL that is being sent to Informix. Any of the variants involving string literals could be a problem. Maybe you should use SET EXPLAIN ON and see what the Informix server is being sent as the SQL to process, though that may not help if you are getting syntax errors (it can only explain that which is executed). I do have code to monitor raw SQL conversations; it is not trivial to use. – Jonathan Leffler Jul 11 '13 at 16:18
Thanks. I marked your answer as accepted, as it's fairly definitive, though it didn't work in my particular situation (probably because Atomix is an offshoot of an older Informix). – Daryl Aug 12 '13 at 15:25
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Try the format Mmm-DD-YY as per this answer:
Linked Informix table in MS SQL Server ignoring criteria
Note that it's case sensitive.
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Already tried that ... it returns "(-201)A syntax error has occurred." – Daryl Jun 28 '13 at 13:16
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global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/25930 |
Jacob Arrives at Paddan-Aram
1Then Jacob hurried on, finally arriving in the land of the east. 2He saw a well in the distance. Three flocks of sheep and goats lay in an open field beside it, waiting to be watered. But a heavy stone covered the mouth of the well.
3It was the custom there to wait for all the flocks to arrive before removing the stone and watering the animals. Afterward the stone would be placed back over the mouth of the well. 4Jacob went over to the shepherds and asked, “Where are you from, my friends?”
“We are from Haran,” they answered.
“Yes, we do,” they replied.
6“Is he doing well?” Jacob asked.
9Jacob was still talking with them when Rachel arrived with her father’s flock, for she was a shepherd. 10And because Rachel was his cousin—the daughter of Laban, his mother’s brother—and because the sheep and goats belonged to his uncle Laban, Jacob went over to the well and moved the stone from its mouth and watered his uncle’s flock. 11Then Jacob kissed Rachel, and he wept aloud. 12He explained to Rachel that he was her cousin on her father’s side—the son of her aunt Rebekah. So Rachel quickly ran and told her father, Laban.
13As soon as Laban heard that his nephew Jacob had arrived, he ran out to meet him. He embraced and kissed him and brought him home. When Jacob had told him his story, 14Laban exclaimed, “You really are my own flesh and blood!”
Jacob Marries Leah and Rachel
After Jacob had stayed with Laban for about a month, 15Laban said to him, “You shouldn’t work for me without pay just because we are relatives. Tell me how much your wages should be.”
16Now Laban had two daughters. The older daughter was named Leah, and the younger one was Rachel. 17There was no sparkle in Leah’s eyes,# Or Leah had dull eyes, or Leah had soft eyes. The meaning of the Hebrew is uncertain. but Rachel had a beautiful figure and a lovely face. 18Since Jacob was in love with Rachel, he told her father, “I’ll work for you for seven years if you’ll give me Rachel, your younger daughter, as my wife.”
19“Agreed!” Laban replied. “I’d rather give her to you than to anyone else. Stay and work with me.” 20So Jacob worked seven years to pay for Rachel. But his love for her was so strong that it seemed to him but a few days.
22So Laban invited everyone in the neighborhood and prepared a wedding feast. 23But that night, when it was dark, Laban took Leah to Jacob, and he slept with her. 24(Laban had given Leah a servant, Zilpah, to be her maid.)
28So Jacob agreed to work seven more years. A week after Jacob had married Leah, Laban gave him Rachel, too. 29(Laban gave Rachel a servant, Bilhah, to be her maid.) 30So Jacob slept with Rachel, too, and he loved her much more than Leah. He then stayed and worked for Laban the additional seven years.
Jacob’s Many Children
31When the Lord saw that Leah was unloved, he enabled her to have children, but Rachel could not conceive. 32So Leah became pregnant and gave birth to a son. She named him Reuben,# Reuben means “Look, a son!” It also sounds like the Hebrew for “He has seen my misery.” for she said, “The Lord has noticed my misery, and now my husband will love me.”
33She soon became pregnant again and gave birth to another son. She named him Simeon,# Simeon probably means “one who hears.” for she said, “The Lord heard that I was unloved and has given me another son.”
34Then she became pregnant a third time and gave birth to another son. She named him Levi,# Levi sounds like a Hebrew term that means “being attached” or “feeling affection for.” for she said, “Surely this time my husband will feel affection for me, since I have given him three sons!”
35Once again Leah became pregnant and gave birth to another son. She named him Judah,# Judah is related to the Hebrew term for “praise.” for she said, “Now I will praise the Lord!” And then she stopped having children.
Cargando Referencias en Versión Secundaria...
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global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/25931 | The Death of Saul—1
Chronicles 10:1–14
1 When the Philistines were fighting against Israel, the men of Israel fled from the Philistines and were killed in battle on Mount Gilboa. 2 The Philistines caught up to Saul and his sons. They killed Jonathan, Abinadab, and Malchishua, Saul’s sons. 3 The heaviest fighting was against Saul. When the archers got him in their range, he was badly wounded by them.
4 Saul told his armorbearer, “Draw your sword! Stab me, or these godless men will come, stab me, and make fun of me.” But his armorbearer refused because he was terrified. So Saul took the sword and fell on it. 5 When the armorbearer saw that Saul was dead, he also fell on his sword and died with him. 6 So Saul, his three sons, his armorbearer, and all his men died together that day.
7 When the people of Israel on the other side of the valley and across the Jordan River saw that the men of Israel had fled and that Saul and his sons were dead, they abandoned their cities. So the Philistines came to live in these cities.
8 The next day, when the Philistines came to strip the dead, they found Saul and his three sons lying on Mount Gilboa. 9 They cut off his head and stripped off his armor. Then they sent men throughout Philistine territory to tell the people this good news in their idols’ temples. 10 They put his armor in the temple of their goddesses—the Asherahs—and fastened his corpse to the wall of Beth Shan.
11 When the people living in Jabesh Gilead heard what the Philistines had done to Saul, 12 all the fighting men marched all night and took the dead bodies of Saul and his sons from the wall of Beth Shan. They came back to Jabesh and burned the bodies there. 13 They took the bones and buried them under the tamarisk tree in Jabesh. Then they fasted seven days.
두번째 번역본에서 참고 구절을 로딩합니다. |
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global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/25973 | Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy, Stargate or any of the other universe or characters that shall be mentioned here.
Summary: Searchers of Merlin's Avalon cave find a second long range communication device, or at least that's what they believe.
Timing: Stargate Season 9 just before Beachhead
Author's notes: This is just something that's been bouncing around in my mind for quite a while now. This is going to be a short fic and no sequels are planned-in fact I intend to finish this fic very quickly. Now on to the story
Chapter 1 The Incident
The SGC, General Frank Landry's office
"You've found what?" repeated General Landry afraid that that he hadn't heard right the first time.
"Well sir, we think we've found a second Ancient long range communication device in Merlin's cave, " repeated the SGC scientist Dr Winifred Burkle simply.
"Another Ancient device…like the one Dr Jackson used to reach the Ori galaxy?" the general asked for clarification.
"Well…it bares some resemblance to the device Colonel Mitchell and Teal'c destroyed, though it does have quite a bit of Ancient writing on it that the linguists have yet to decipher-they say the majority of it is written in some type of code, and Daniel is going to be having a look in a couple of hours," Dr Burkle explained to the general.
The general sat back in his chair contemplating Dr Burkle's words, "And what about the parts they have been able to decipher?" he asked cautiously.
"Well, they summed it up pretty well though it doesn't actually make sense…" Fred .
"Dr Burkle-what does it say?" General Landry said firmly.
"Uh, well, it says use with caution-you might not like what you see," she answered succinctly.
The general blinked, what did that have to do with a communication device? "You're right it doesn't make sense." He stated. He looked up expectantly at Dr Burkle.
She blinked at him waiting for him to say something. He didn't so she took the initiative, "So sir, can we test it?" she asked earnestly.
"No doctor, permission denied," the general stated firmly, she opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off, "At least not until you have Dr Jackson finishes the translations." He finished much to her surprise, "And then, only after Jackson has confirmed that it isn't a hazard to the base-then you can start playing around with it."
Dr Burkle smiled happily and said, "thank you general, you won't regret this!"
"Keep you gratitude till after Jackson gives you the translation, now you're dismissed, I've got more paperwork to do," General Landry said, gesturing her to leave.
Dr Burkle bounced happily out f the General's office.
Dr Winifred Burkle's lab, a short time later
Dr Burkle was in her lab waiting for Daniel Jackson to come by and see the artefact. The artefact was sitting alone on a table in the middle of the lab, when compared to the destroyed long range communication device that had been previously destroyed-this thing had a much sleeker appearance and the crystal at the pinnacle of the device was green not blue. However, the most startling aspect was that almost every surface of it was covered in writing write in a strange Ancient code the translation of which had eluded the linguists to this point except a few scattered remarks that made no sense when applied to describe the function of the device.
She was busying herself by scanning the device and attaching electrodes to it to measure and monitor its power output. Daniel entered the room with Vala hot on his heels.
"Isn't there something else we could be doing than this?" complained Vala, "Couldn't you lend me your credit card and let me see Earth instead of this?"
Daniel sighed irritably and replied in along suffering tone, "For the last time Vala-NO!"
"Can I just remind you what happened the last time we used something like this?" Vala said pointedly.
Daniel just ignored her and turned to Fred who had been watching the spectacle with an amused glint in her eyes, "Hey Fred, how's the family?"
Fred smiled at him and said, "They're fine. Wesley's at home today with the kids."
"That's good to hear, so how old are they now?" Daniel asked with a smile.
"Well Julia's six now and John's five now, and both are little terrors," she grinned happily, "They've both entered the phase were they want to know everything-especially about the mechanical stuff…if we leave them alone, they start taking stuff apart." She complained with a happy smile.
Vala spoke up before Daniel, "That's nice-can we go now?" she demanded irritably of Daniel, "You've come and everyone's fine. Can we go?" she repeated again with a bored sigh.
Daniel raised a finger in warning at Vala and turned to Fred, "Sorry about that…maybe you should show me the artefact?" he suggested apologetically.
Fred wasn't insulted and nodded, she had heard about Vala's behaviour and considering that the last time Vala used a device created by the Ancients, she got burnt at the stake, Fred couldn't blame her for her desire to get as far away from this thing as she could.
"It's over here, "Fred moved over to the table. Daniel followed her while Vala moved to the far side of the room, Fred picked up a pile of papers here's everything transcribed from the device so far. Most of it doesn't make any sense," she finished.
Daniel took the papers and began quickly looking through them, skimming to get the gist of what the other linguists had deciphered from the device. He frowned, this really didn't make sense, and this part he'd just reached, if he read it right it said…
Daniel froze, this couldn't be right could it? Could it?
Fred was watching as the blood drained out of Daniel's face, "Is everything alright?" she asked concerned.
"Just a sec, I have to check something," he moved towards the device and searched out the offending piece of text to double check that the others had written it right. It took him a few minutes but he found it.
"Oh god…" Daniel muttered.
Fred and Vala were at his sides in an instant, "What is it?" they both asked in tandem.
"This part here…it I'm reading it right, it says…Beware the C'tan, the Star Gods, gods of the Materium-the Soul eaters." Daniel finished ominously.
The two women were shocked by Daniel's translation; the Ancients were warning about a race of Soul eaters!
"You see! I told you! You aught to get rid of this thing right now!" exclaimed Vala in vindication.
"Wait a second, what's it say afterwards?" asked Fred.
Daniel looked down at the artefact and read on, "Beware the Celestials, Avoid Galactus the demigod-consumer of worlds, Beware the Ancient Killers-the Yonji Sinhidrea, Avoid the Borg Collective, Beware Morgoth, Beware the Dark Lords of the Sith." Daniel stopped suddenly, "It's a list," he stated in surprise.
"Yeah but a list of what?" Fred asked.
Vala snorted, "Of things to avoid if you weren't paying attention to what he was saying," she said snidely.
Fred glared at Vala, "I meat why's it here? On this device in particular?"
Vala shrugged.
"I have no idea…" stated Daniel as he continued to study the artefact.
Silence descended on the group as each one mulled over all that Daniel had said-and the fact that these things mentioned were mentioned by the Ancients.
"Did somebody decide to hold a party and forget to tell me?" came a cocky voice from behind the trio.
They turned around to find Colonel Cameron Mitchell and Dr Caroline Lam standing by the doorway staring with interest at them.
"Well?" prompted Cameron when no on answered.
"Nothing much, the Ancients are just warning about Soul Eaters and other evils in the universe-that's all," Vala quipped sarcastically.
She snickered as Cameron's eyes practically popped out of their sockets in surprise.
"They're what!" He screeched.
"I've managed to translate some of the writing on this device they found in the Avalon cave. It's a list of species and people the Ancients are suggesting that we avoid or beware of," Daniel quickly explained for Cameron.
Dr lam frowned, "But why is this list written on this device?" she asked confused.
"Well that's the sixty four million dollar question," Daniel quipped.
Cameron strode to the table and looked down at the device, he turned to Daniel concerned, "Isn't this like that thing that sent you to the Ori galaxy?" he asked pointedly.
Fred answered for Daniel, "Well we think that's it's something similar"-though we're still working on it," she confessed.
"Ah huh, okay," Cameron said. He looked deeply at the green crystal that was at the pinnacle of the device. "How come the crystal is green?" he asked quizzically.
"Your guess is as good as mine," Fred admitted to him.
"Heh, okay," Cameron said quietly.
"I have a question though," Dr Lam cut in.
"Yes? About what?" asked Fred politely.
"Should it be glowing like that?" she asked pointedly.
"What!" said Fred in surprise and alarm as she whorled around to look at the device. Dr Lam was right, the green crystal was giving off a soft glow that was barely noticeably. Fred ran to her computer and checked her read-outs, "Energy usage is up 10 percent-twenty…twenty five…"
"Doctor, shut it down," commanded Cameron.
Fred starting tapping on keys on the device, after a few moments she shook her head, "I can't!"
The crystal continued to glow the light becoming more intense with every second as everyone backed away from it trepidation and fear.
"Energy spike!" warned Fred.
The green crystal pulsed once brightly then everyone in the room collapsed bonelessly onto the floor.
The crystal stopped glowing and the device became quiescent once more as if nothing had happened at all.
Author's notes: Here's a nice little cliffhanger for you to enjoy. Expect the next chapter soon! I won't leave you hanging long.
Next time: Awakenings |
global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/25975 | A/N: I know it's been the longest time since I updated. I hope this is satisfactory for those who waited for so long. I'll hopefully start slacking off and update again. Thank you for reading and feel free to leave me some reviews!
Chapter 06: Beginnings
I couldn't breathe and everything was crimson red. I felt as if I were drowning in a never-ending sea of thick warm blood. The air was choking me with every breath I dared to take in. I found myself in the courtyard of Cross academy, all alone. My mouth felt paper dry, I was thirsty. I collapsed onto the ground, struggling, grabbing my neck with both my hands. My fingernails were digging into my own skin, drawing blood. I looked at the intruding stain on my fingers. My body unconsciously shivered, my eyes quivering at the sight of my own blood. At the same time, in the back of my throat, I felt a hunger that caused me to cough.
'Someone...please...he-help me...'
I writhed with pain, my head aching. My jaws clenched, I felt a deep pressure, my fangs protruding from this need to satisfy the vampire within me. A guttural sound erupted from my mouth as my eyes shut from the blinding pain.
'Yuuki...you will come out soon...'
I almost thought I was going to go mad, hearing voices in my head. My fingers were caught in the tangles of my own hair; I faced the sky that was hued with the blooming color of red in my vision. I turned my head and saw the very leaves of the trees dripping blood. My chest was moving up and down erratically, trying to breathe. Suddenly, I felt the cold touch of a knife pierce my stomach. I couldn't see who it was, but I suddenly stiffened. I felt something dribble from the corner of my mouth; I felt to see what it was.
More blood...
I let my hand travel down to the knife. A spreading mass of crimson continued to soak my uniform.
"Yuuki, do you want to feel this misery for eternity?"
I knew his voice. My eyes threatened to close against my will but I fought with myself. I felt his hand stroking my cheek, gently moving up to close my eyes.
"Sleep, Yuuki. Rest well."
Yuuki started to whimper, wriggling in my arms. I held her closer to me and ran to the moon dorms. Then that it hit me right in my face and filled my nose with that heady intoxicating scent of ambrosia. I looked down at Yuuki and saw a blossoming red stain growing larger by the second like the ripple of water after being disturbed by the presence of a stone. I carried her closer to me and ran faster with more urgency. Yuuki, my dear girl, you'll be awake soon. Just hold on a bit longer.
Mother, I'm so sorry. But she needs to live beside me.
I laid her on the bed and didn't care to wait for the others who I forgot were trying to catch up with me.
"Yuuki, my love, it is time."
There was no time for hesitation and I let my teeth pierce the delicate translucent skin at the hollow of her neck. I almost cried from the pure ecstasy of this liquid running down my throat. But it was time to awaken her true form, the beautiful form I had been lusting for years.
I heard her murmuring unintelligible things, but I held her softly and parted from her throat. Her eyes were still closed. I opened her shirt and saw that the wound wasn't there anymore.
I couldn't die yet, could I? I still wanted to do so many things, say so many things to the people I cared for. I couldn't possibly die before I can find the person who truly means the most to me. I heard a soft voice call out to me, the same voice who saved me from the terrifying vampire when I was a child, having no memory of where I came from or how I got there. It was snowing and the splattered blood; I would never forget that image. I would never forget the grotesque picture but at the same time I remembered the twinge of how I felt towards the savage beauty of it all. Kaname...
I felt that familiar gentle bite but this time it was the soft lips of Kaname on my skin. Am I really dying? And I choked back a cough and my eyes opened. I was still in the courtyard of cross academy. My hand went to the knife embedded in my stomach and I pulled it out, biting my tongue to keep me from screaming. It healed instantly and I breathed heavily out of exhaustion and thirst. There was still blood everywhere, I saw it. It was dripping from everywhere and I screamed in anguish. Why am I all alone here? Why is this happening to me?
"Yuuki...let me out. Yuuki please..."
My eyes darted around me, where was the voice coming from?
"Yuuki, do you want to know the truth? Let me tell you. Come closer." I heard her again and then I saw her right there thorny vines encaging her. It was me, my younger self.
I looked at her wide eyed, shocked.
"Let me out..." She said again but I shook my head, I was so confused.
"H-how?" I asked.
"Grab my hand" She said simply. Her small hand was stretching towards me and I reached forward slowly grabbing the hand. I closed my eyes, the vines turning into a blinding light I couldn't see past. I opened my eyes again and the small Yuuki stared at me smiling.
"What's happening? I don't understand." I asked scared.
"You're name is Kuran Yuuki. Kaname is your brother. You were the hidden daughter of Juuri and Haruka. She took away your memories and vampire instincts because she wanted you to live a normal life as a human. They both died by sacrificing their lives to protect you from Rido, our uncle. I've been stuck here ever since." She said in a lonely voice.
"How come this is happening now though? I still don't get it." I said. My mind spinning. Was this why Kaname cared for me so much?
"Kaname has awakened you. Now wake up." She said walking towards me, turning translucent like a ghost. Then she walked through me and my eyes opened to see Kaname staring down at my face. My hand reached to caress his cheek unconsciously and he held my hand there.
"Onii-chan." I breathed out. That burning gaze, his eyes were penetrating my very soul. The length of time and suffering till now was starting to dissipate.
"I love you." I stood up and snaked an arm around his neck pulling him closer to me. I could feel the quickening pulse point and my fangs ached. I licked his skin and without warning pierced him. I felt everything he felt. I saw everything he had seen. I almost cried. I'm so sorry Kaname. For the pain I caused you. I let go of him and I felt his loving hands hold me closer as if he were afraid I'd suddenly disappear.
"Yuuki." He said to me in a low whisper.
"Kaname." I said in return looking down, ashamed.
"Look at me Yuuki." He raised my chin and I let my tears pool out from the corners of my eyes. Words couldn't be said, everything couldn't be expressed, it was just pure raw emotion that no language could decipher.
He pushed me onto my back and kissed me hard. Those soft lips, I always wondered how it would feel. This was nothing like the way I imagined it in my dreams...nothing.
I couldn't believe it. She was finally right before me. All I can keep was my silence as she peered at me. All I could do as she called for me, as her brother, the one word I longed to hear for so long, all I could do was sit there in silence. Then those three words and then... I couldn't even think. As her fangs penetrated me I forgot how it felt to be bitten. I loved her. I hoped she knew exactly what I felt and the truth about the past events…the past that brought us together right now...again.
I couldn't stop looking at her as I pushed her onto her back, my body was trembling. I caressed her cheek and saw her leaning into my hand like a kitten. My fingers trailed down to her blood stained lips that I wanted to kiss for the longest time and I did. I nipped her lips and tasted blood. She wrapped her arms around me and pulled me closer. We deepened the kiss till we pulled apart to catch our breaths. We explored each other with our eyes as if we couldn't get enough.
No, it wasn't enough, it would never be enough. I grazed her fang with my finger and felt the pointy edges made to pierce. I let her fang slit my finger as a drop of blood fell into Yuuki's mouth. She let the new taste be savored in her mouth and I knew she wanted much more. I smiled and let my finger continue to bleed into her mouth. She pulled my hand closer and let her tongue work over the open wound, suckling from it at the same time. I quickly slid my finger out and kissed her instantly on the lips. She quickly answered in response. This was a feeling more powerful than the hunger for blood.
She nibbled on my bottom lip and licked the new open cuts from the wounds. I let her do as she pleased.
"I remember everything Kaname." She said smiling.
"My dear you are mine." I said simply.
But at the same time, I was afraid of all the dangers being imposed. He was definitely going to come back, Shizuka Narumi. Yuuki and I will enter the vampire world together and no one would stop us.
Try to come back, Shizuka Narumi, and I'll kill you for sure...for everything you've done.
I was trying to keep calm as much as my hands trembled as I clenched them tightly into fists. My nails dug into my palms, drawing unnecessary blood. I relaxed my hands, bringing my wounded palm towards my lips. I licked away the blood without a second thought. My thoughts were muddled, anger coursing through my veins. If Yuuki weren't so taken by Kaname, none of this would happen. He brought trouble wherever he went and that always happened to be very close to where Yuuki would be. They see each other time after time, for what purpose? Now this damned Shizuka Narumi has appeared. I kept my silence like I was accustomed to it was part of my nature. But even so I my thoughts didn't give me any solace. I wished deeply for someone to interrupt me.
Ichijou was not too far from where I was running, tailing after Kaname. Then…I heard her scream. I froze, my body turning stiff and afraid. It had been so long since I had felt afraid. Yuuki…I heard Kaname stopping briefly and suddenly running so swiftly like a bullet, but that's when I knew why. As if I couldn't be tortured enough, I caught whiff of that sweet addicting drug of mine. Yuuki, you control me in a way that no one else can. You bring me to my knees like a tamed animal. This is what I've become and this is who I am.
Should I be selfish and let myself fall miserably to a lowly level E, the beings that are despised and hunted? Should I let myself die by the hands of my own kin? Just so I may live a little longer to see you, Yuuki. Or should I just end my life right now?
I couldn't believe the sight I had seen before me, Shizuka Narumi. He was a charismatic noble from a very long standing family loyal to the Kuran family for generations. But one day they had just vanished without a trace. Kaname had investigated further and found out that Narumi was behind it all. Narumi had killed his own parents and vampires of his blood that was dwindling already at the time. Kaname didn't speak of how such a thing could've happened from such a young vampire. It was a memory that Kaname wished to keep buried and forgotten. He had trusted him so much and the mistake he made for trusting him was something he wasn't going to make again.
But from afar before the incident and mysteries were brought forward, I had always envied the close bond he seemed to share with Kaname. It was so rare to see such a thing even happening, a close friendship blooming, and all the other nobles had been jealous. They would fight, claw, or use any means of deception to have the status that the Shizuka family had. I had always thought such a person as Narumi was haughty when I heard about him. But I was very wrong. I could still remember the time I experienced his kindness as a child. If this kindness was real, I still don't know. But I knew the Narumi I saw today wasn't the same Narumi I knew before-.
"Takuma, go and mingle with the other noble vampire children. Perhaps you can become close with them and by all means try to befriend Kaname-sama." Ichijou Asato said.
"Yes grandfather." I said without emotion. Everything was always about being closer to this family or another. I was sick of it all.
I wandered the Shizuka family mansion. It was exquisitely decorated and ornate. I walked down the hallway where portraits of the Shizuka family and ancestors were hung on the walls. They all looked as regal as the purebloods. The last portrait was of Shizuka Narumi, the youngest child. He had a blond wavy hair that was very much close to being white and blue eyes that had speckles of gray. As I observed the portrait I heard footsteps behind me.
"I always thought it was creepy seeing my own portrait on that wall." A boy said.
I turned around to see the speaker and saw Shizuka Narumi looking at me, smiling. He was a bit taller than I was and a year older from what I had heard from the adult discussions.
"I'm sorry for not introducing myself. My name is Shizuka Narumi." He said, presenting his hand for me to shake. I looked at the hand and remembered what grandfather had asked of me to do.
"Hello. My name is Ichijou Takuma." I said in return, not sure if I should let my guard down.
"Let's go to the garden out in the back, that's where all the other vampire kids are." Narumi suggested invitingly as the host of the party.
I merely nodded and found myself following the taller boy to a candle lit garden. Girls and boys alike were arguing over something in the grass.
"I am telling you not to invade my personal space. I was observing a lady bug until you came stomping near me ungracefully, Ruka." A hot headed boy said angrily.
"Oh shut up Aidou. It's not as if that's the only lady bug in the world. I'll have you know that I'm very graceful and you are just very annoying. You can go play with your disgusting bugs elsewhere." The girl who responded sat down on a chair sipping some drink. Three other vampires stood in the background amused between the interactions.
"Ahem." Narumi said trying to break up the argument. I couldn't help but laugh slightly, covering my mouth to muffle the sounds.
They all looked up to finally notice our arrival and I suddenly felt shy.
"Narumi! Who is that boy you're with?" Ruka asked curiously.
"He's Ichijou Takuma. I've seen him around before." Aidou said smirking, proud that he knew and everyone else didn't.
"Hi, my name is Ichijou Takuma. It's nice to meet you." I said looking around nervously. Narumi looked at me and gave me that same friendly smile and patted my back, pushing me forward slightly towards to the people I wouldn't know would become my dear friends.
-End flashback-
It was an important memory to me but I was shaken out of my thoughts when
I heard Yuuki scream. The scent that was becoming very familiar to me filled the air and I started moving towards Kaname at a quicker pace but already I knew he was way ahead of me. Not but a few seconds later, I heard the sound of a gun going off stopping me in my tracks.
A/N: It's a cliffie but I hope you enjoyed reading! Leave a review to tell me what you think! I revealed a bit more about Narumi in this chapter but you'll get to know what really happens over time mostly in Kaname's point of view. I'm sorry if the development of Narumi isn't being written so smoothly. It's been so long since I updated that I forgot what I had written so far. Tell me if it's confusing! |
global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/25976 | This was a friend of mine's dream and I asked her if I could put it in words and show the world and she said yes. MWAHAHAHA! This was deleted twice on my computer so this is the short version. First time I kicked the cord out of the wall and the second time I bent down and my boobs hit the delete button. Don't make fun of me I get those ditsy times and today was one really badly. Oneshot, yaoi.
Bored on my Birthday.
"I'm so fucking bored, why doesn't someone just come and shoot me so I don't have to be so damn bored?!" Mello was pacing the halls of the Wammy house. It was his birthday and he was suspecting to have fun. There was no fun to be had.
He decided that if there was nothing to do he would just go find his "friend" and just get some alcohol and get drunk and pass out. A boy in the Wammy house always had some kind of drug or alcohol. He didn't know how he got it, but he did. Mello always told him he was one of his best friends so he can get free booze and the kid actually believed him! He didn't even know the kids fucking name, but he still got free booze. After a few minutes of looking Mello found him and asked if he had anything. Nothing. Not one drop of liquor. No weed. No cigarettes. No fun and no hope for a birthday worth remembering. Shit.
He might as well hang out in his room and do nothing. So Mello slowly walked to his room. When he walked in he slammed the door out of anger and yelled "Fuck!" just to yell. He walked over to his window sill.
The window sill was always his thinking spot. It was indented into the wall so he could sit parallel to the window with his back against the wall. It was about three feet from the ground so you kind of had to step up to get on it. It was a pretty tall window that he could almost stand on the sill, but had to crouch so he didn't hit his head. It was best for sitting on anyway. His room was on the second floor and overlooked the street so he could watch the street from his perch.
He sat there for a half hour, with his back against the wall, just staring out the window at the bright day outside. It made him want to break the glass and yell "Start raining god dammit, if I have a bad day everybody else should, too." But he didn't and just sat there, moping. He pulled out a pile of chocolate bars and began to eat them, leaving the crumpled wrappers on the ground next to the window sill.
Mello was about to stand up to relieve his ass cramps from sitting so long and get more chocolate bars, but a knock on the door stopped him. "Come in." The person kept on knocking even after he said to come in and repeated the command twice. As he listened closer he noticed that the knock sounded exactly like the Mario theme song. Thus telling Mello who was outside his door. "Get your ass in here Matt." Matt walked in with a grin on his face as he played on his Gameboy. Not looking up.
Mello heard the annoying song playing from the device in his hand. Matt slammed the door closed with his foot without even turning around. He glanced up to see Mello on the window sill and went to sit across from him. He sat in the exact same way Mello did, with his back against the wall, across from him so they were facing each other.
He remembered when they were young and they would sit here and make faces at the passing people on the sidewalk, who would glare and keep walking, if they even saw the boys on the second floor. They had some fond memories of mooning the old ladies then running. Good times, good times. They were about to make more.
"How's your birthday so far. Being fourteen must be bitchin'." Matt said without even looking up from his game. "It sucks nasty ass balls. There's nothing to do and I'm fucking bored." Mello practically yelled at Matt. "Why don't you fucking look at me when you talk, pay some fucking attention to me!" Matt still didn't look up and it drove Mello crazy. And to top it off the music of the game was about to make him blow.
"Mello calm down. I need to finish this level."
"If you're not going to pay attention to me, I will make you." Mello said in a dark tone. Mello took his finger and was trailing it up Matt's leg. Starting at his ankle and going up to his knee and getting closer and closer to matt's thigh. Slowly going toward its goal. Matt's crotch. Now he had Matt's attention and Matt was staring at Mello's finger that was almost there. He followed it all the way to its mark. When it got there Mello traced circles around Matt's crotch that was steadily getting pointy and hard in his jeans.
"Mello what are you do-" Matt's words were cut off by Mello's mouth crushing down on his own. At first he was surprised and his eyes were wide. Soon he melted into the kiss, closing his eyes.
He dropped the Gameboy on the ground, while it was still on. He needed his hands to wrap around Mello's neck to deepen the kiss. It was the longest, most delicious kiss Matt had ever had. Also his first.
When they separated both boys were already panting. They both had burning loins, too. Simultaneously, both boys went in for another kiss. While they were kissing Mello began to tear at Matt's pants. He struggled for a moment on the button, but finally he got it undone. He tore Matt's pants down his legs and off.
Mello now was on all fours in front of Matt, pushing him into the wall with his crushing kisses. He had his right side leaning against the window. Which there now was a crowd pooling in one area outside on the sidewalk. All looking up at the same thing.
Once his pants were off Mello started taking off his shirt. It was a very tight pull-over sweater that was being a bitch at coming off, so Mello took the easy way out. He pulled a knife out of his pocket. He cut the shirt right down the middle and Matt slipped it off. He was now in nothing but his silk boxers.
Mello began to take off the skin tight leather vest. He threw all the clothes on the ground next to the long forgotten Gameboy. His pants were another story and not coming off. It took them both a lot of pulling to finally take the second skin to get off. Matt was thinking to himself ho Mello even got them on in the first place. Mello being Mello had no underpants on and went to tearing off Matt's boxers that came off easily.
When the barriers were removed they went right back at right there in front of whole world on the window sill, stark naked. And the whole world was watching right there on the sidewalk in front of the orphanage. Matt grabbed Mello's neck and pulled him into a long kiss. When he felt Mello's tongue pushing against his lip he immediately allowed it entrance into his mouth and he groaned at the feelings it gave him. Mello was swirling it around tasting Matt and in return Matt's tongue fought with Mello's.
When Mello broke the kiss he went to Matt's neck to start biting and licking his neck. Matt groaned while Mello's kisses steadily made their way farther and farther down his body. He made sure he went slowly, making Matt relish every moment. Finally, he was at Matt's burning cock. Matt opened his legs, so one was leaning against the window and the other was hanging off the side and his foot rested in the ground, giving Mello better access. Mello's kisses went up Matt's cock until his mouth was around the top. It made Matt moan. He put his whole mouth around it and began to suck. "Uhhh. Mello that feels so good." He shoved it farther in Mello's mouth almost making him gag.
Matt's legs were having spasms and hitting the window making sounds. Mello sped up the pace making his mouth go up and down on Matt's cock sucking harder and harder. "Mello, I'm gonna, I'm gonna-" Before he could finish he exploded in Mello's mouth. When that happened his leg kicked, in turn kicking out the window. So everybody on the side walk went on with there lives like they weren't just watching two underaged boys making love right in front of them.
They both looked at the window, then at each other. They got up and moved to the bed as a solution. Mello crawled on all fours on the bed and pointed his ass right at Matt. Matt smirked and got in position right behind him. He thrusted into Mello's tight hole making him scream. He did it again and again. Going harder and farther into Mello each time, making Mello growl and howl in pleasure, as Matt hit his sweet spot over and over again.
"Matt. I think I'm going to explode." And he did all over his bed cover. Matt pulled out as Mello turned around and leaned his back on the bed's headboard. Matt sat across from him on his knees. Both boys were panting. "Suck it." Mello said through pants. "What?" Matt spoke. "I said to suck it." Matt eyed down at his groin and Matt understood completely. Mello had his legs wide open as if he was showing his standing prize.
Matt slowly bent down to tease Mello. Inching ever so closely to Mello's burning member, going as slow as he could. Mello was now moaning. "Hurry it the fuck up you dildo I need it!"
Just as Matt was about to have his mouth around it… Roger burst through the door! It was completely and utterly quiet as the two boys stared at the man and he stared back, glancing for a second at the broken window. The only thing that could be heard was the Gameboy that was still playing its annoying music. Nobody moved a muscle not even the boys that were in very, very sexual places, not even Matt whose mouth was centimeters from Mello's penis. They didn't even move to cover themselves.
The first person to speak was Roger "What is going on here" in an outraged voice. Mello and Matt looked at each other, and then Matt looked down at the cock that was staring right back at him and said to Roger "Well, Mello had to show me something and you know what Mello you were right, you defiantly should get that thing cut off.
Oh Matt you are so naughty. I hope you liked it, it's my first yaoi and I'm kind of proud and embarrassed at the same time. I am sorry, but I just had to say ass balls and dildo. I couldn't help it. This is a story written for my friend SLB. Please review and tell me what you think of my first yaoi. If I get lots of good reviews I might make a chapter yaoi story. Please review if you read. |
global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/25977 | (A/N: This short story's a sort of prequel to another fanfic idea I have which is in the planning stages and won't be up for a while yet. It's not really a prequel, but the incident in this story becomes important in the fanfic itself at some point. The story will take place three years after this one. Anyway. Oblivion doesn't belong to me, it belongs to Bethesda, you know how it goes.)
"Mother!" the nine-year-old boy admonished. The needle glinted in the gloom as he pushed it through the papery skin beneath in neat, uniform stitches. "If I didn't find you, you could have bled to death!"
"I know, sweetie," murmured his pale mother. Her dark eyelashes rested against her pale skin. Her son's hands felt warm on her chilled arm, and she couldn't stop shaking.
"We need more thread," said the boy, tying it off. He grabbed a stained rag and wiped off the last of the blood. "There, done."
"Thank you, Magnus," his mother murmured. She looked down at her forearms. Twin scars, beaded with blood and stitched up expertly, stretched along their white length. "I'll have to get some more."
"Where do you get the thread?" said Magnus. He returned the needle to the box on the table and clicked it shut. "I've looked everywhere, and it doesn't grow on bushes or underground. I checked."
"Put out the fire," said Celine.
Magnus dropped the question like a hot coal, and his chair scraped the worn floorboards. Celine closed her eyes again so she wouldn't have to see the sky veined with red and yellow as the heavy door creaked open. She could hear the crunching of leaves, a bitten-off swearword as Magnus tripped over the harrada root by the well. She really had to dig up that thing… she listened to the scraping of earth and rocks, the creak of the door, and the footsteps and the grunt as Magnus hauled in a bucket.
She opened her eyes. "Good, you got earth."
"You said water causes a lot of smoke," said Magnus, tilting the bucket over the fire. And he was right – the fire was risky enough as it was, but for Celine's wounds to be infected could mean disaster.
Getting hurt in the first place had been beyond stupid. Already, Celine flinched at the memory. If Magnus hadn't come…
"I'll clean that out tomorrow," said Celine. Dirt rolled onto the floor.
Once upon a time, boys his age could play with toys, thought Celine as she watched her son. His dark hair hung over his eyes as he finally stamped the last of the dirt into place. He swept up the empty bucket, leaving the door open behind him. A breeze heated Celine's face, drying the tear before her son could return and see it. The sky cast an orange glow on her skin, leaving her arms looking demonic.
Magnus flitted back in, closing the heavy door with no effort. It was testament to the strength that boys his age shouldn't need – not even farm boys from the old days worked as hard as Magnus. Farm boys never had to forage for themselves. Farm boys never had to look over their shoulder for trouble if they strayed out of the house.
Guilt tugged at her. His father would not have approved. He would have demanded that Celine keep him locked up, where he would be safe. And he had been one of the most gentle people Celine knew.
But Celine knew better than he had. She knew that if Magnus didn't grow up embracing the new world, it would kill him. Every day, she shooed him out of the door to gather ingredients and wild-growing food, every day she crossed her fingers and prayed to Talos he would come back. As she had since he was seven and a half.
And every day, she would sigh with relief when he returned, usually with a couple of new scratches and scars. If they were lucky, it had only been the wild harrada roots that caused it – plants from Oblivion whose razor-sharp blades clawed at whoever wandered too close.
It was risky, letting him roam. Too risky. Daedra prowled out there, and in the dark they scratched at the boarded-up windows, and Celine heard their scratchy calls on the hills. A lone child wouldn't stand a chance in the wild.
No, she told herself. A child whose parents were anybody else would not have stood a chance.
Magnus had survived three weeks ago when a daedroth had chased him with unnatural speed for its bulky form. Magnus had survived when he was five and a scamp snuck into the house. Magnus had survived when the clannfear broke down the fence when he was seven and almost killed him.
That had been the day Celine realised she couldn't shelter him anymore. She'd already taught him everything she knew, and every day she took him gathering herbs and food with her, because the house wasn't safe. Every day he crept with her and watched – and sometimes helped – when she had to fight something. He knew more about sword fighting than men five times his age, even though he still was a boy and possessed only a boy's strength. He knew that daedra typically ate only each other unless they were beyond starving, because no people lived on the planes of Oblivion.
But how could he learn to survive, if he relied on her too much?
He'd been delighted that day, when she told him to look for ingredients himself. But she'd followed, keeping her distance, keeping hidden. He'd been so careless, but after the third scamp almost gouged out his eye he learned. He learned when a daedroth rose its head from where it had been drinking at the stream, and he remembered his mother wasn't there to protect him. He learned when a clannfear caught up to him…
It had killed Celine to stand there and watch. But he had to learn. And he had – he'd dropped and played dead for over an hour when the daedroth spotted him, he'd taken out the clannfear's legs, killed the scamp with only a burn on his cheek to show his trouble. When he'd found out his mother watched over him two months later, he'd been indignant.
"I can take care of myself," the boy had insisted, with white scars stark against his face and a bleeding scratch on his chin.
Celine missed the old days, where he would have grown up without knowing what part of a sword was the pommel, where he didn't have to know about the poisonous plants of the highlands and wouldn't have a clue about starting camp fires. Days that existed ten years ago, a world with a bright blue sky and grass that was actually green and lush, instead of the stunted brown blades that struggled for life.
Those days were gone now.
But not forever, thought Celine, looking to her son. He sat on the floor by the door with his forehead creased into a deep frown. One day, the heir will save us. He will take the Amulet of Kings and relight the Dragonfires, and banish the daedra. It'll… it'll take time, that's all. We just have to keep waiting.
All the same… it was thanks to Magnus's stubborn attitude, eagerness to learn and sheer luck that the boy hadn't died yet.
"Mother," he suddenly cut into her thoughts, his dark eyes meeting hers. A faint, white film spread over them, the cause of his poor vision. She hoped he wouldn't go blind… "I've been thinking."
"Yes, Magnus?"
"No furniture has been disturbed," said Magnus. "The windows we boarded up are still boarded up and have no more scratches on them that weren't made last night. There is no possible way you could have dropped a dagger and sliced both of your arms that deeply. How did you get those injuries?"
In the other world, nine year olds had been dumb as bricks and didn't need to be smarter.
Celine sighed. Closed her eyes again. How could she be so stupid?! Already she'd fucked up the rest of his life – he'd never know what it would be like to have a playmate his age, he didn't even know what his reflection looked like, and he thought the only human being in the world aside from him was her.
And she'd got depressed enough about it to almost fuck it up even more and leave him. In the other world, she'd cover up her behaviour. Tell him to mind his own business.
But in this world, not asking questions could kill him.
"Sometimes," she said carefully. "when people get very sad, they want to hurt themselves."
Okay. Perhaps not the whole truth. But she had to treat him like an adult.
By lying, like a normal parent would?
Guiltily, she shoved the thought aside.
"Why?" Magnus blinked at her.
"It makes them feel better to feel physical pain instead of mental pain," she said, and Magnus nodded in understanding. But she said, "Remember what we discussed about that?"
"Yeah," Magnus said. "Mental is what you think and physical is what you feel with your body."
She nodded. "But it's a very stupid thing to do."
"Then why did you do it? You're not stupid."
"Sometimes I have stupid moments," she forced a smile.
"Were you sad?" the boy went on, tilting his head. He looked so unworried.
In another world, that would have been alarming. Even now, it saddened Celine that her son felt no concern for her. But she'd trained him that way, trained him so that he knew that one day she might fall and never get up, and that he would have to ignore it and get on with his own life and live. If he allowed himself to be upset, his focus would lapse. And something could kill him.
"Yes," said Celine. "And it was stupid of me to."
Magnus's face split into a smile and he nodded. He loved to think he was better at her at something. "Well, you'll never do it again, will you?"
"Of course not," said Celine. Magnus grinned.
"So it's okay now," he said.
"Yes," she lied.
But the feelings were always there. The despair, the fear, the nightmares and the terror. She hadn't had a good night's sleep since the old world, when the only daedra she knew were the ones the mages summoned, before Magnus was even conceived. She hadn't had a happy dream since two years before even that.
Fear dominated her days. She feared for Magnus's health and safety, she feared the cultists would find them and kill her son, she feared the clannfear that clawed at the door at night would finally shred it apart, she feared that her son would grow sick with an illness that could only be cured with herbs made extinct by the Oblivion crisis, she feared…
She hated being alone.
She had Magnus, but she was alone. His father didn't stand beside her, and hadn't since the Hero of Kvatch failed Tamriel. On that lonely day, Celine gave birth alone with no midwife or herbs. Exhausted, she'd cleaned herself and the squalling baby up, thanked Talos the birth had gone as smoothly as it could.
She'd panicked every time Magnus caught a cold in those early days – he'd been such a sickly baby that worry disrupted her sleep more than his crying did – she fretted at her loneliness and she missed people. She missed safety. Missed not having to strap a sword to her belt each time she stepped outside the house. Missed being able to buy potions from an apothecary, missed the annoying guards who'd made her life hell, missed animals and green grass and blue sky –
Magnus, attuned to this world, never realised he shouldn't have to live in a place where he feared for his safety even as he slept at night. He had no idea that living in the middle of the wilderness in fear of the Mythic Dawn didn't have to be normal. He was oblivious that most children grew up with two parents whom they wouldn't bury until past their twentieth birthday.
He didn't know the beauty of green grass, blue sky, a butterfly, a white-coated wolf, the snuffling of a puppy, the smile of a father. He didn't know what snow was, what the ocean sounded like, he'd never shivered in his life when not stricken by a fever because Tamriel was so warm that he could stand outside, soaking wet, in the middle of the night and not be cold.
But that wasn't the worst thing.
The worst thing was that one day, he might go out and never come back. And yet, she couldn't afford not to. Damned if she did, damned if she didn't. If she didn't, his reflexes would dull, his memory would forget how to survive and his mind would gloss over the importance of keeping alive. Any day now, the Mythic Dawn would find them, and Magnus would have to hide. Any day now, he'd curl up in that tight hiding space, barely breathing with fear. Any day now, she would die screaming and bloody at their hands.
It would come, too. Their luck would not last forever.
And when that day came, she would die knowing she'd made damn sure her son would be able to survive without her. She knew that however young he was, he would be able to fend for himself.
When it came, she would die knowing that one day, he'd live in a world where he could hear the gulls calling on the wind, taste a melting snowflake on his tongue and lie in a field of green.
And that night, he would go to sleep in soft, linen sheets, without a single nightmare awaiting him. |
global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/25978 | A/N: Hey, everyone! This is a new story that I've recently come up with and I am pretty excited about it. I've never heard of a story where Harry is raised by Bellatrix, but Voldemort doesn't know that he's Harry Potter, so hopefully this one will be a hit! So, please read and review! I'd love to know what you think!
Oh and the Potters and Lestranges in this one, as in James and Rodolphus, are distant cousins.
I'm Canadian so I try to use all the British ways to say things – like jumper instead of sweater, but if I mess up, let me know
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and everything recognisable belongs to the wonderful JK Rowling.
Chapter One – Bellatrix
There was not a sound in the whole cemetery, save for a few far off sounds of grieving. It was nearing dusk, the yellow orb sinking closer and closer to the horizon. It was late October and so the temperatures were chilly as evening drew closer.
There were only a few people left in the cemetery. A young witch was wailing about how life wasn't fair as an older gentleman comforted her, a motherly looking woman was sobbing softly as she laid flowers on a tomb of a long dead wizard and a group of teenage boys were standing, clustered around a grave of a fallen friend.
These people Bellatrix recognized. The young witch's brother had just been killed by Death Eaters in a raid Bellatrix had taken part in. The motherly looking woman had been the mother of one of Bellatrix's school mates; the boy had gotten mauled by a Hippogriff and killed. The teenage boys were students at Hogwarts, as per their Ravenclaw uniforms. She didn't know who they were mourning, but at that moment it didn't matter to her.
She was standing in front of a fresh grave, wearing her new black silk cloak with the hood pulled over her head to hide her identity. The grave didn't have a tombstone yet, as the funeral had just taken place that morning but Bellatrix knew who's it was. It was the grave of Rodolphus Lestrange, her husband. He'd been killed just a few days ago by some Aurors.
She wasn't crying; she hadn't loved Rodolphus, but he had been a dear friend. But it wasn't like Bellatrix hadn't lost friends before. This time, she was mourning because of her son. He would grow up without a father all because of a few stupid Light warriors.
Her son, Henry, had just celebrated his first birthday on June the 22nd. He knew something was different; the child was bright. The day after Rodolphus had died, Henry had been crying heavily. Even when Bellatrix held him, he still wailed, wanting his father. Right now, he was sleeping in her arms as she looked at the grave of Rodolphus.
Narcissa Malfoy, her younger sister, had been standing about two metres behind Bellatrix and Henry with her husband Lucius and baby son Draco.
Narcissa had come closer and now murmured to Bellatrix, "Bella, let me take Henry home now. Lucius and I can handle him and Draco for as long as you need us to. He needs some proper rest; he looks ill."
Bellatrix's grip tightened on her baby. "No, Cissy. Henry will be fine with me." She turned her black eyes onto her sister. "Do you not trust me to take care of my own child?"
Narcissa shook her head. "Of course I trust you, Bella. I only thought -"
"You thought wrong, Narcissa," said Bellatrix, her voice as soft and silky as a panther. "Henry and I shall be fine. You and Lucius can go now – I just need a few moments longer."
Narcissa bowed her head in agreement and kissed Bellatrix on the cheek. "Come to our house," she pleaded. "We have more than enough room and I hate to think of you all alone in that huge Manor of yours now that –" She stopped talking.
"Now that Rodolphus is dead? I am perfectly able to take care of myself, Narcissa," she snapped.
"I know that, Bella. I just –"
"Go, Narcissa. Henry and I shall return to Lestrange Manor."
Narcissa sighed. "All right, then." She kissed her sister's cheek once more and turned away. She walked back to where Lucius Malfoy stood, holding their baby son Draco. "Let's go home, Lucius," said Narcissa softly.
After they were gone, Bellatrix sighed and turned away from the grave, tears still glittering in her eyes. She looked down at her sleeping baby. He wasn't sleeping peacefully. He was turning a lot and looked like he was about to wake up. Only a few moments later, his black eyes opened and he started to cry.
"Hush, Henry," soothed Bellatrix. "It's all right, I'm here. Go back to sleep. We'll be home soon. Soon we'll be home."
But Henry didn't stop crying. He wailed and wailed.
Finally, Bellatrix took out her wand. "Silencio," she murmured. Instantly the child's cries were silenced. He looked up at Bellatrix with tears still running down his little face.
"Much better," she said, satisfied. "Let's go home, Henry." She walked to the edge of the cemetery in order to Apparate away. "Tomorrow I'll take you to see Auntie Cissy and Uncle Lucius, okay my darling? You can play with Draco while I attend to something. To what, perhaps you are wondering, dear child? Mummy has a death to avenge."
It was a quiet afternoon in Godric's Hollow and a redheaded woman, named Lily Potter, was sitting at the kitchen table, absently drinking tea. There was a newspaper, with a photo of the village of Hogsmeade on the cover. Hovering over the town was a green skull with a huge snake slithering out of its mouth. There was a huge crowd, surrounding the town square. The headline read, 'THREE BODIES DUMPED IN HOGSMEADE TOWN SQUARE!'
Lily sighed. More deaths; it was becoming almost a daily event. Lily unfolded the paper and began to read.
By Gretel Hurtz
The residents of the village of Hogsmeade woke up this morning to the sight of the Dark Mark hovering over the village. Instant pandemonium ensued. Aurors and Mediwizards arrived on scene immediately. Three bodies had been dumped carelessly in the town square.
The bodies are of three Aurors, Joel McLaggen, Melissa Bell and Warwick Moore, were discovered this morning by Ruby Corner, a resident of Hogsmeade.
"I was out walking my dog Snuffles," said Corner, "When he started pulling me towards this alley. When I found the bodies, I screamed and immediately alerted the Aurors."
Mediwizards had confirmed that each victim was killed with the Killing Curse, as recently as last night. The bodies have been moved to St Mungo's, where they will be kept until the families can arrange funerals.
Lily stopped reading as someone called her name. "Lily!" shouted James, Lily's husband, bursting into the kitchen. "Did you hear the news?"
Lily sighed and put her teacup down. She nodded wearily. "The three deaths in Hogsmeade? Yes, I heard."
The black haired man, with hazel eyes hidden behind glasses, flopped down at the kitchen table. "I'm so sick of this," he said. "Sick of Death Eaters chasing us all the time, wanting us to join Voldemort; sick of all the deaths; sick of not being able to run around with Padfoot, Moony and Wormtail –"
Lily put her hand on James's arm. "I know, James," she said softly.
James looked up and smiled weakly at Lily. Then he sat up straight, running a hand through his hair before standing up.
"Where are you going?" asked Lily.
"To get Harry. Is he still napping?"
"Yes, James. Don't wake him up!" But James had already left to get their son. He returned a few minutes later, holding a little boy. Harry had tousled black hair and startling green eyes. He looked like James, but with Lily's eyes. He also looked disoriented and half asleep.
"Lily," said James, wrinkling his nose. "He smells."
"So change him," said Lily simply.
"Can you do it?"
Lily didn't answer, but just drank from her tea again.
"Fine," said James darkly. He stalked out of the kitchen and returned a few minutes later. Harry was wearing a fresh nappy and looked happy. He was chewing on a toy Hippogriff.
"Take that awful thing out of Harry's mouth, James!" said Lily, standing up to take Harry away from James. She took the toy out of Harry's mouth and placed it in his hands. "Don't put this is your mouth, Harry," she said, scolding him lightly. Harry just blinked at her and then stuck the toy in his mouth again.
"Oh, calm down, Lily. Getting germs from that toy are the least of our worries."
Lily just looked at James.
"Okay, sorry. Harry, take that out of your mouth."
Harry ignored him.
James sighed. "Aw, well I tried."
Lily rolled her eyes. She got a bottle out for Harry and magicked the milk warm. She sat down next to James at the table. "Are Remus, Peter and Sirius coming over later?"
"Yeah, Sirius said he'd be here in a matter of minutes," said James. "He just stuck his head through my fireplace before I came down with Harry," he explained at Lily's look.
Lily rolled her eyes. "Sirius is so –"
"Hello everyone!" said a voice from the doorway. Lily and James both jumped up and grabbed their wands, but relaxed as they saw that it was Sirius Black, James's best friend.
"Speak of the devil," muttered James, rolling his eyes, sitting back down at the kitchen table. "And the devil shall appear."
"No fair, Prongs," complained Sirius, grinning broadly. He had long black hair, black eyes that had a mischievous glint to them, and was devilishly handsome. "I'm not the devil." He walked over to Lily and plucked Harry from her arms.
"Hey, you," said Sirius. Harry hiccupped and spit up all over Sirius. "Oh, brilliant job, Harry," he muttered, whipping out his wand and cleaning up his robes.
James and Lily laughed, but turned serious at once; it was hard to laugh in the times of war. "Why do you think those Aurors were killed?"
Sirius sighed. "They killed a Death Eater a few days ago. Remember that raid on Diagon Alley? They killed Rodolphus Lestrange. My guess is that my dear cousin Bellatrix got her revenge."
Lily shook her head, disgusted. "I can't believe that you're related to that monster, Sirius."
"Neither can I," admitted Sirius. "Did you guys know that she has a –"
There was a loud sound from outside and a yelped curse. "Wormtail," James and Sirius said together.
Peter, a short man with watery eyes, burst into the room. "Hey, everyone," he greeted, flopping down at the table. "Sorry about your rubbish bin, Prongs," he added, while Sirius started to roar with laughter.
James waved that away. "No worries, Wormtail. Did you trip over the cat again?"
Peter nodded darkly. "It always gets in the way."
Sirius stopped laughing. "I know. I hate cats, you know that, James? Why did you get one?"
"We thought it'd keep you and Wormtail away," said Lily, laughing. "You know, dogs don't like cats and cats chase rats – but sadly that didn't work," she said, gesturing to the two men, sitting at her table. "Here you both are."
Sirius pretended to look offended. "I'm hurt, Lily," he said. He looked to James. "Prongs, tell your wife that she's being mean."
James laughed. "Sorry, Padfoot, but if I tried that, I'd be kicked out. Lily's the boss."
Sirius muttered something that sounded like 'wimp' and crossed his arms across his chest.
Lily picked up the Daily Prophet on the table and hit Sirius over the head with it.
"That's what you get for insulting my wife, Padfoot," said James, grinning.
"I didn't insult her," said Sirius, rubbing his head. "I insulted you." He muttered some bad words under his breath and got another whack on the head.
"Sirius! You are not to talk like that in my house! What kind of example are you being for Harry?" Lily demanded.
Sirius just rolled his eyes. "He's too little to even notice what we're saying," said Sirius.
"He is almost a year!" said James indignantly. "That's a big boy."
Sirius and Peter exchanged a look. "You have no idea how pathetic you just sounded there, James," said Peter.
"A year old is not a big boy," added Sirius.
James shot a dark look at his best friends. "Lily, hand me that newspaper."
"Okay, okay!" said Sirius, ducking as James swiped at his head. "Gees, you two are violent today." He snatched the paper from James's hand and said, "I'm keeping this. Here, Wormtail, hold Harry."
Peter took Harry and looked at the baby with his watery eyes. Almost immediately, Harry began to cry. "He doesn't like you," said James, laughingly. He took Harry from Peter and started to bounce him on his knee. Harry giggled, once more the happy little boy.
"Hmm," said Sirius, "That lady in Hogsmeade named her dog Snuffles? Snuffles. Snuffles. Does that suit me better than Padfoot?"
James and Peter both laughed. "From that whole article all you got was what the lady named her dog?"
"I'm not surprised," said Lily.
The door bell rang and everyone jumped to their feet. "I'll go," said Sirius. "It's probably Remus, but just to be safe..."
Everyone waited with baited breath for Sirius to return. When he did, he was laughing and joking with Remus Lupin. James and Lily exchanged thankful looks and Peter sighed in relief.
"Hello," said Remus, after stopping his laughter with Sirius. "How are you all?" He looked shabby and tired; it was only a week after the full moon and it always took him ten days to fully recover.
"Good," said James. "How about you, Moony? Getting ready for the next cycle?"
Remus nodded. "Unfortunately."
James sighed wistfully. "I wish I could go out running with you guys."
Lily suddenly stood. "Do you all want tea?"
"Yes, please," they all said.
"James, make your friends some tea," said Lily. "I just have to go get something." Lily left the kitchen, leaving behind James looking furious about having to make tea.
"You guys want tea, you go make it yourself," said James. "I'm not your servant," he told Sirius who looked extremely put out.
Lily returned with a camera in her hand. "James, bring Harry here for a moment. Sirius, can you take a picture of us three?"
"Why do you want a picture all of a sudden, Lily?" asked James, standing up and walking over to her, carrying Harry.
"I don't know," Lily admitted. "I just feel like somehow none of us will all be together again for a long time." She shivered and rubbed her arms.
There was a silence as Lily's words sunk in, but then Sirius said, "Way to ruin the mood, Lils."
"Oh, just take the picture," she snapped.
"All right, all right, don't get your knickers in a knot," said Sirius. He aimed the camera at them. "Say 'Snape stinks'."
"Oh, fine. Say 'Snuffles'."
"You are so ridiculous," said James, laughing.
"One, two, three!" said Sirius, ignoring James.
Lily and James smiled brightly, holding little Harry between them. Harry had a knack for smiling whenever he saw a camera pointed at him.
Sirius took the picture, and shook his head. "You didn't say Snuffles."
Lily ignored that comment. "Thanks, Padfoot," said Lily. "Peter, would you mind developing this for us? I can't go to Diagon Alley and get any supplies or anything ..."
"Uh, oh yes, I will," said Peter, taking the camera from Lily. He looked at it as if he'd never seen a camera before.
Come to think of it, thought Lily, Peter had been very distracted lately, but she didn't know why.
Remus turned to Sirius. "What was that with the whole Snuffles thing?"
"Oh, I was reading in the Prophet about some lady whose dog is named Snuffles. I was thinking if I ever got tired of Padfoot, we could call me Snuffles instead."
James and Peter exchanged glances. "I'm not calling you Snuffles, mate," said James.
Sirius sniffed and pretended to look offended. "Harry will call me Snuffles, won't you, Harry?"
Harry just looked at Sirius and giggled. He reached out a hand and yanked hard on Sirius's hair.
"Ouch! James, your son just assaulted me."
"Good boy, Harry," said James, not even looking at Sirius.
Remus had been reading the Prophet article. He put it down and shook his head sadly. "I'm not surprised that's all you got out of it, Sirius," said Remus.
"My thoughts exactly," said Lily.
There was a loud pop and suddenly Bellatrix appeared on a street corner. The street was deserted, totally empty.
That wasn't uncommon. After all, Bellatrix had just Apparated outside Riddle Manor, the home of Lord Voldemort.
He'd summoned her and so she'd instantly dropped Henry, who had a bad cold, off at Narcissa's and hurried to Riddle Manor.
There were three Death Eaters standing outside the huge, iron gate. In addition to the wards Voldemort himself had placed around the house, there were always three Death Eaters standing guard.
This house was under the Fidelius Charm and Voldemort was the Secret Keeper, ensuring that no one knew the place of it except his most trusted followers.
As Bellatrix strode up to the three Death Eaters, she pulled up the black silk sleeve covering her left arm and quickly flashed the Dark Mark at them.
They all recognised Bellatrix and immediately hurried to open the gate for her.
Bellatrix didn't even acknowledge them as she strode up the pathway to the huge Manor. Riddle Manor was at least four storeys high and wasn't just called Riddle because that was Voldemort's family name. It was the Riddle Manor because it was a huge puzzle.
Voldemort's chambers were in the basement, his private study, bedroom and bathroom adjoining the meeting room where all the Inner Circle Death Eaters gathered with him to discuss, plan and report.
Bellatrix hurried through the house, anxious to see the Dark Lord. He had been so kind, so gracious to her after Rodolphus had died – he'd allowed Bellatrix to kill the Aurors who murdered him herself!
Voldemort's meeting room was private and reserved for him and his most trusted Death Eaters. To access it, you had to cross Voldemort's receiving chamber – where the Death Eaters would report the outcomes of raids and the like. There was only one chair in the room, tall backed, black marble chair that was reserved for him and only him. It was seated on a black dais where Nagini, Voldemort's snake, was snoozing.
Nagini didn't scare Bellatrix, but she knew that the snake was deadly and frightened many of the weaker Death Eaters.
Bellatrix crossed the room and opened an almost invisible door – if you didn't know it was there, you would totally miss it. . She was about to place her hand on the opening stone, but she heard voices from within. It sounded as if the Dark Lord was arguing with someone.
"Please, my Lord! You can kill the child, kill her husband, but please spare Lily! I've been a faithful follower of you for so long and I haven't asked for anything before –"
"Lord Voldemort is well aware of that, Snape," said Voldemort's icy voice.
"I'm sorry, my Lord. Please, excuse my – my begging, my Lord, I just –"
"Silence, please Snape. Now, you are correct and as Lord Voldemort is a generous man, I will grant you your wish. It is true, you did tell me the prophecy and as such I can rid myself of the one who is said to destroy me. This can be your reward. You ask me kill Harry Potter and the boy's father, but not his mother, Lily Potter, is that correct?"
"Yes, my lord," said the voice, sounding a little relieved.
Voldemort laughed. "You are truly horrible, Severus. Killing a woman's child and husband just so you can have her."
"I –"
"Do not deny it, Severus, you are easy to read. Very well, I shall not kill Lily Potter unless she stands in my way of murdering the boy."
"Oh, thank you, my Lord –"
"I do have to warn you, Severus, that if the girl gets in my way of killing the child, she also shall die."
"I – I understand, my Lord."
"Very well. Now Bellatrix? You may enter."
Bellatrix jumped. She hadn't realized Voldemort knew she was here, but then again he knew everything.
She placed her hand on the seventh stone from the wall, seven stones up from the floor and the door slithered and hissed as it opened for her.
"Ah, Bella," said Voldemort, as Bellatrix entered the room. He was seated in another tall backed, black marble chair and there were papers strewn out before him on the table. He was holding one up, reading it with a smile on his face.
Voldemort wasn't alone, though. The other voice that Bellatrix had heard was Severus Snape. He was sitting a few seats down from the Dark Lord, looking nauseous and pale.
Bellatrix ignored Snape completely, as she did to almost everyone when Voldemort was present. "My Lord," said Bellatrix demurely, bowing low before him. "You wished to see me?"
"Yes." He motioned for Bellatrix to take a seat at the table. "I was just reading the Daily Prophet," he said, absently, as Bellatrix took a seat opposite Severus. "Very nice work with those Aurors, by the way," he commented, putting the paper he had down on the table.
"Thank you, my Lord," said Bellatrix proudly.
Voldemort sighed. "Now, to business. Severus and I were discussing the way to get to Harry Potter, the boy I believe that is the one in the prophecy, as you most likely heard from listening at the door."
Bellatrix blushed.
"Don't be worried, dear Bella. I am not upset with you," said Voldemort. He reached for another piece of paper and looked at it, with a frown.
"Thank you, my Lord," murmured Bellatrix.
"What unsettles me is that the prophecy could also mean this boy – Neville Longbottom." He slid the paper across to Bellatrix. It was a photograph, showing a man and a woman, holding a young boy. They were standing outside an old house, waving to the camera. "You see my dilemma. What if I kill the one child and it turns out to be the other? Or I kill the other instead and it turns out to be the original one? That would not be good. So I have decided to kill both children – it will save me a great deal of time."
"Yes, my Lord, what a brilliant idea –" began Bellatrix.
Voldemort held up a hand for silence and immediately Bellatrix fell silent. "The only problem I can see with that plan is that once one child is dead, that fool Dumbledore will secure the other one so tightly that I will not be able to touch him. So, the two must be killed on the same night, but even I cannot be in the same place at once." His red eyes flickered to Bellatrix. "That's where you come in, Bella. You will kill one of the boys for me."
Bellatrix could barely contain herself from standing up and doing a little jig. To be given this honour! "Of – of course, my lord!" she said. "I would be honoured to do this for you."
Voldemort nodded, as if he already knew this. He waved his hand and the photo Bellatrix was holding flew out of her hand and into his. "How about little Neville, the pureblood?" asked Voldemort, making the photo spin in the air with magic. "Or young Harry, the half-blood?" Another photo rose, one of another family. The father was holding the child and making him wave to the camera, while the mother had wrapped her arm around her husband's waist. They were standing in front of a kitchen counter.
Bellatrix opened her mouth, but Snape interrupted her. "My lord," said Snape, looking confused and horrified. "What do you mean?"
"I mean exactly what I say, Snape," snapped Voldemort. "Do not question Lord Voldemort."
"You said you'd be the one to kill Harry! You promised that you would keep Lily alive!" shouted Snape, standing up going for his wand.
Bellatrix also jumped up, ready to defend Voldemort, but Voldemort had already said, almost lazily, "Crucio!"
Snape fell to the floor, hitting his head on the table and screaming in pain. Voldemort held the curse for only 30 seconds before lifting it.
Snape got to his feet, shaking. He looked paler and swallower than ever.
"You will obey your Lord, Snape," said Voldemort. He had stood up and was standing at his full, menacing height. "What Lord Voldemort says, you will follow, without a question or a doubt in your mind. Is that understood?"
Snape stuttered out a quick agreement.
Voldemort said, continuing his rampage, "I said that Lily Potter would be kept alive if I were the one to kill her son. You did not ask for Bellatrix to spare her life, if she were the one going after Harry."
"My Lord?" asked Bellatrix. "Does that mean you want to me to kill the Potter child?"
Voldemort didn't look at Bellatrix, just at Snape's reaction. He looked terrified; terrified for the life of the woman he loved. "Yes, Bellatrix. You will kill Harry Potter and I will kill Neville Longbottom."
"No!" shouted Snape, leaping at Voldemort. Bellatrix shrieked out in alarm, but Voldemort moved out of the way easily. Snape hit the marble chair with a thud that echoed throughout the whole chamber.
"Crucio!" said Voldemort, pointing his wand at Snape. This time he held the charm for a full minute.
"What did I tell you, Severus?" whispered Voldemort softly, after he'd released Snape from the curse. "You are to obey my commands. Now, I will ask you again – do you understand what your Lord is saying?"
"Y-yes, my L-Lord," stuttered Snape.
"Good," said Voldemort, over the rest of Snape's muttered apologies. "So you won't interrupt us again – Silencio!"
Snape's voice was instantly silent.
"Much better," said Voldemort, satisfied. He walked back to the marble chair and sat back down. He flicked the photo of the Potters at Bellatrix. "Keep the picture, Bella. Now, as Bellatrix is the one who is going to kill Harry Potter, perhaps Bellatrix would be kind to your request for sparing Lily Potter?"
Bellatrix looked at the Dark Lord. "I will do whatever you wish of me, my Lord," she said. But in her mind she was thinking, Why on earth would I spare a filthy Mudblood?
Apparently, Bellatrix wasn't thinking straight because she forgot that Voldemort can read minds.
"You are correct, Bella," said Voldemort. "Why should she save Lily Potter, Snape? Do you honestly think that she'll forgive you for letting Lord Voldemort murder her son and husband? Do you think that she could possibly love you?" The contempt in Voldemort's voice was impossible to miss.
Snape just looked at Voldemort, a barely disguised expression of hate on his face.
Voldemort laughed softly and flicked his hand at Snape. Snape was blown backwards into the wall and he crumbled into a heap onto the floor. "Now listen to your Lord, Severus," said Voldemort, walking over to where Snape was laying. "Bellatrix will spare your beloved Lily."
Bellatrix looked sharply at Voldemort; she couldn't believe her ears.
"Don't look at me so, Bella. Lily Potter is a powerful witch – it is hard to believe that she is a Mudblood. She would be useful to us if she was Imperiused. Perhaps we could Imperiuse her to love you too, Snape," said Voldemort, chuckling softly.
Bellatrix snorted with laughter.
"But, Bellatrix," added Voldemort, "do not kill the child's father either. It will be much more entertaining for us to have dear Lily still have her husband, won't it now Snape?"
Snape looked furious, but he could not speak.
"Yes, yes, Severus, I know your opinion on that matter. We will arrange that there will be an 'urgent Order meeting' the night Bellatrix and I will kill the two boys. The Longbottoms and Potters would not miss such an important meeting, I am sure."
Voldemort paused for a moment, summoning a glass of water. He sipped it lazily and then continued. "We'll arrange for our little spy in the Potter's confidence to be home when Bellatrix arrives to murder the child. He will tell the Potters that he'll babysit Harry, not to worry, everything is under control. Then, Bellatrix will arrive, kill Harry and leave. And then," said Voldemort slowly, a truly evil smile creeping up onto his face, "the Potters will arrive and find their dear Harry, the Chosen One, dead."
"What of Pettigrew, my lord?" asked Bellatrix. "I leave him alive?"
"Yes, Bella," said Voldemort. "He is a Death Eater – you shall not kill him unless I command it." Voldemort sighed loudly and put the glass of water down on the table. "Up now, Snape," he said, waving his hand. Snape was brutally forced to his feet by the magic and his voice was returned. "You may leave, Snape," said Voldemort.
Snape hurriedly bowed low and half ran out the door.
As the door was creaking to a close, a long snake slithered in. Nagini didn't pause as she slithered towards Voldemort. She wrapped herself around the long marble chair and rested her head on Voldemort's shoulder. He stroked her absently with a long white hand. "I do not trust Snape to keep the date of our attack secret – we shall attack the boys on Hallowe'en."
"Hallowe'en, my lord? But – that is in two days!"
"Yes, Bellatrix, I am aware of that," he said lazily. "You may leave, Bellatrix."
"Yes, my lord," said Bellatrix, rising from the table. She wondered vaguely if Henry was feeling any better than when she'd dropped him off at Narcissa's.
She was almost at the door, when Voldemort called out. "Bellatrix, on the night where we will kill the two boys, there can be no reason why you do not show up or do the deed, is that understood?"
"Of course, my lord," said Bellatrix, surprised. She would never miss this opportunity, this chance to show the Dark Lord how much she was honoured to be in his service.
"Good," said Voldemort. "Return tomorrow, Bellatrix. I will have our spy tell you the name of where the Potters are hidden – he is their Secret Keeper."
"Yes, my Lord," said Bellatrix. She bowed once and then left the room.
The door swung closed behind her, leaving Bellatrix one last glimpse of the Dark Lord. She exited the Manor, striding past the three guard Death Eaters so quickly that they jumped in alarm.
She Disapparated as soon as she could, landing just outside the Malfoy Manor with a small pop.
Bellatrix entered the house. It was a beautiful home, even Bellatrix couldn't deny that. "Narcissa?" she called. "Cissy, where are you?"
Narcissa appeared at the top of the stairs, holding Draco in her arms. "Oh, Bellatrix, thank goodness you're here!"
"Why? What has happened? Where is Henry?"
Narcissa looked terrified at the expression on Bellatrix's face. "Henry is sleeping in Draco's room. He is much, much sicker than he was when you dropped him off."
"Did you give him a Pepper-Up Potion?" asked Bellatrix, ascending to the stairs. She reached the landing and stared at her sister, hands on her hips.
"I did," said Narcissa, juggling Draco to her other hip. "But it did no good."
Bellatrix looked down the hallway to Draco's room. The door was slightly open. "I'll take him home," she announced, heading for Draco's room. "Then he'll feel better."
She opened the door and hurried to the crib. Henry was sleeping, his hair plastered to his little forehead. He looked very, very sick.
Bellatrix leaned over the crib and picked him up gently. "Oh, Henry," she murmured. "Why are you sick?"
"Bella, don't you think you should take him to St. Mungo's?" asked Narcissa. As soon as she said that, it was obvious from her expression at how stupid that would be. One of Voldemort's most feared and most wanted Death Eaters, strolling into St Mungo's and demanding that the Healers there heal her son. Yeah, right.
"Or at least to a Healer?" persisted Narcissa. "The Dark Lord has many that he'd allow you to use –"
"No, no," said Bellatrix distractedly. "The Dark Lord is busy. Besides, when Henry is at home, he will be better."
Narcissa looked as if she thought Bellatrix was mad, which in fact she was. Bellatrix had never quite been sane, but since joining the Dark Lord and murdering so many, she'd gone round the bend. Losing Rodolphus had also rendered her quite mad; even though she hadn't loved him, they were friends and Rodolphus was the only one to calm Bellatrix down – something even Voldemort had to use a spell for.
Bellatrix was cradling Henry close to her chest as she brushed past Narcissa and out of the door. She had hurried down the stairs and was almost at the door when Narcissa called out.
"Bellatrix, wait!" called Narcissa. She'd set Draco down and ran after her sister. "Please! You must take Henry to a Healer. He is sick – I've never even seen this type of illness before!"
But Bellatrix was already too far gone, sinking into her deranged belief that taking Henry home would cure him.
"Goodbye, Cissy," said Bellatrix absently. "Tell Draco that I said hello."
When Bellatrix and Henry arrived at Lestrange Manor, she hurried him up to his room, telling the house elves that she would murder them if they disturbed her, through the halls drenched with the setting sun's light. Henry's nursery was at the end of the hall. She put him down in his ebony crib and drew her wand. She didn't know what to do – she wasn't good at healing spells.
Henry coughed once, spitting up a bit of blood.
Bellatrix panicked. She dropped her wand and picked up her son. She cradled him to her chest, whispering the most comforting words she could.
Henry didn't even respond. He just coughed once more, staining Bellatrix's best green robes. She didn't care, not at all.
Bellatrix backed up into the nursery wall and sunk down until she was sitting on the floor. She held Henry as he coughed up blood, slept fitfully and cried.
Bellatrix could feel her heart sinking into a pit of hopelessness and despair as she listened to the dying sounds of her son. She'd just lost Rodolphus – she couldn't lose Henry as well.
It was almost midnight when Henry fell silent. Bellatrix moved him slightly and he moaned a little. She turned him so that she could see into his eyes. They had fluttered shut a long time ago, but she had to see his beautiful black eyes just once more.
"Henry," she whispered, caressing his forehead. "Open your eyes, Henry," she whispered.
Henry was bright and clearly understood that Bellatrix wanted something from him, and he opened his eyes.
His eyes were beautiful, just like Bellatrix's. They were like staring into the depths of the ocean, where it is no longer blue – just black. The sparkle that they usually held was almost gone.
"Don't ... don't die on me," said Bellatrix. For the first time in a long time, she could feel tears starting to well.
That was one command that Henry couldn't obey. His eyes fluttered close again and his little chest stopped moving up and down.
Bellatrix's eyes widened. "No, no, no, no, no," she said, starting to shake Henry. "No, Henry! Wake up!"
When he did not, Bellatrix put him down and started to sob. She hadn't cried in years – not since her parents told her she was to marry Rodolphus.
What would she do? Her husband was dead, her child was dead. Bellatrix still had the Dark Lord and for that she was thankful, but... Bellatrix choked back a sob and wiped her eyes on her sleeve.
Bellatrix stood, and retrieved her wand from the floor. She put Henry back into his crib and started to leave the nursery, but hesitated. She drew her wand and muttered a quick spell that would preserve the body of Henry for three days. She then left the nursery.
She went into the kitchen and called out to the house elves that she wanted breakfast. The Lestranges had four house-elves, but their names always escaped Bellatrix.
"Yes, mistress," they said. They scrambled over each other to prepare a dish of food for Bellatrix. She sat at the kitchen table, something she never did as she always ate in the dining room.
They gave her a plate of food and a glass of pumpkin juice, always jittering and nervous around her.
One of them, a male, who was the boldest of them all, said, "What of Master Henry, mistress?"
"Oh," said Bellatrix. "Yes, prepare something for him. He is ill and will not eat much."
"Yes, mistress," they murmured and hurried off to get Henry something that he would never eat.
One of them started to exit the kitchen with the food, but Bellatrix jumped up. "Did I tell you that you could bring Henry his food? No!" The house-elf squeaked in alarm and almost dropped the plate. "Set it down here, I shall bring it up myself," ordered Bellatrix.
"Yes, mistress," the house-elf blubbered, quickly setting the plate down and wringing her hands.
"Get back to work," she snapped. Immediately, the house-elves scurried away, casting terrified glances behind them as they went.
When Bellatrix finished her breakfast, she picked up the Henry's plate and stood. She carried it up to the nursery and stopped in the doorway. The house-elf who had wanted to bring Henry his food was humming to herself as she cleaned up the room.
Bellatrix dropped the plate of food. It shattered on the ground. The house-elf jumped in alarm and turned around.
"Mistress, is everything all right?"
Bellatrix didn't answer, just drew her wand. She flicked it behind her and the door slammed shut.
"Did I give you permission to enter this room, elf?" demanded Bellatrix, her voice soft and deadly. Her black eyes quickly scanned the room and saw that the house-elf hadn't reached Henry's crib to start changing the sheets yet. She didn't know that Henry was ... but still – the house-elf would be punished for disobeying Bellatrix. "Did I?"
"I was just cleaning up, Miss Bellatrix. It's part of my job –"
"Answer the question," Bellatrix hissed. "Did I give you permission to enter this room today?"
"N-no, Miss Bella –"
"No!" shouted the house-elf. "No, mistress, I haven't! I was just cleaning –"
"AVADA KEDAVRA!" screamed Bellatrix, aiming her wand at the house-elf.
A flash of green light filled the room and the house-elf's scream was cut off short. She fell to the ground, unmoving.
Bellatrix was shaking, she was so angry. She went over to house-elf's body and picked her up. She strode to the door and dropped the body outside. The other three elves had gathered and were huddling together, their large eyes wide with fright.
"Dispose of it," Bellatrix hissed. Then she slammed the door shut.
Alone in the room, Bellatrix sunk down to the floor. She crawled to the crib and peered through the bars at the unmoving form of her son. "It's all right, Henry, it's all right," she whispered. "Mummy's here – I'll protect you."
A/N: Yay! First chapter done! This one was nice and long and I don't know if I'll be able to keep all of them this long (this was 23 pages on Word), but I'll try not to do super short ones.
So ... how about a review? Please? Pretty please with a cherry on top? |
global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/25979 | Warning right now for extreme mental disorders raging through this. Mentions of sexual abuse, rape, violence, suicide, cutting and strong apathy. Also a buncha shit I forgot about. Sorry to offend anyone by writing this piece or anything. I had a sudden inspiration at God knew what time out of nowhere, so I just wrote this. I stated this at 2AM, powering my way to 4AM, and from this morning's 8:30 to the current 11:27. I just wanted to write a piece like this. This is set from 2x06 to 2x10. This portrays a completely opposing thought to Kurt's character than we thought before, so be prepared. This is very clear-cut. It seems confusing but you'll get it most at the end if anything. Anyway, I do not own any of the scenes from 2x06 to 2x10 that are very lucidly described here.
If I did offend you, I'm sorry and didn't mean to. I love you all, you're all gems for just reading this, so… overall, I'm unsure how to feel about this piece, but I had a great sudden urge to write it so ciao! xo Sam/Peanut Butter.
The glass dome on the ceiling almost looked like a dream.
The glass looked so fragile. He wondered if it would break and fall on his head, shattering him into a million pieces. He fixed the large glasses he had on his face, Chanel, authentic, he'd gotten at a midnight auction on the nineteenth of February two years ago – a large jacket that he himself thought hid his entire existence away in fabricated nothing. The weight he'd lost hidden by thick fabric, and his pants were this quite lovely plaid-style. His shirt was hidden, along with his rather obnoxious red tie. Kurt took off the glasses, adjusting to the light.
"Excuse me," he asked to a boy with gelled hair that was just passing by. This boy – he stuck out, even in a sea of navy, red and white. "Can I ask you a question? I'm new here."
The boy's lips curled into a small smile. The uniform made him look atrocious. He looked like he lived a nice, happy life in a nice, happy bubble. "My name is Blaine."
He extended his hand. Kurt was nearly afraid to shake it, but somehow, his hand fumbled its way towards this boy's – Blaine's – hand and he shook it. Quite frankly, he didn't look like a Blaine.
"Kurt," he watched the number of passing by students. "So, what exactly is going on?"
"Warblers," the boy's eyes lit up completely. "Every now and then, they throw an impromptu performance in the senior common room."
He still looked like he was living in a land of bubbly rainbows and clouds. Kurt almost envied him for the striking confidence he showed with that smile, and the glitter that his hazel eyes – more green in his light – struck Kurt completely. He said something else about the school that Kurt had completely missed as more students pooled into the common room, but he understood the overall. To be honest, Kurt wasn't really interested in sunshine pants.
"So wait," Kurt said. His voice was light, and held none of the contempt that was rising in Kurt's thoughts. "Glee club here is kind of cool?" he couldn't even think of any better words to represent his thoughts that weren't spiteful, mean, or just plain horrid. This boy, this broken brunette, that had been the object of Karofsky's fists from day one was envious of this boy – sunshine curls. He couldn't really see him as Blaine. If he saw him as Blaine, he would be giving him a name, a meaning and right now, Kurt didn't like him at all.
"The Warblers are like rock stars." Dear Prada, just shut up. Your teeth are incredibly large.
This however, made Kurt's eyebrows rise in surprise either way, because in a school where any Glee club were like 'rock stars' meant one thing: it was safe.
"Come on." Blaine – sunshine curls – grabbed Kurt's hand and Kurt felt his heart thudding. "I know a shortcut."
They ran into a hall, hand never letting go.
This seemed so surreal, out of a movie. In Kurt's head, a lovely piano-like melody was playing that was soothing over his bones. All contempt and…fear…erasing from Kurt's mind and body. Blaine never let go of his hand. Suddenly, Kurt's mind flashed to impossible romances, like the Titanic. The walls were brighter. The world was like a dream, an elaborate beautiful fantasy. His hatred of Blaine suddenly erasing if only for a fleeting moment, and he felt somewhat cherished as long as Blaine held his hand and the piano kept on playing –
"I'll never let go Jack," Rose whispered, as she let go of Jack's hand. "I promise."
The yellow flowers. The decked halls. It was all so magical. He remembered being eleven and waiting for his Hogwarts letter to get out of this crummy place because Puck shoved him into a locker and called him faggy and gross.
It was perfect, every piece falling in – except for Kurt.
"I stick out like a sore thumb," Kurt said out loud.
"Next time don't forget your jacket new kid," Blaine smoothed out his jacket and suddenly, Kurt can feel all of the smoothness of the leather and the purity of everything all in one go. Blaine winked at him and Kurt felt like they shared a secret. Kurt's stomach was in knots. He felt like a butterfly – or ironically, a warbler, a bird, floating. Flying. "You'll fit right in."
First tones of something a lot like Teenage Dream filled the air. Kurt suddenly felt that those were the right words to describe everything he was feeling. Like a teenage dream, unreal – completely and utterly surreal.
"Now if you'll excuse me."
Now when Blaine sung, Kurt's stomach wanted to projectile vomit glitter. He sounded like a complete and utter – well, dream. Kurt suddenly felt like he was savouring the first bites of his favourite cheesecake, as mascarpone and cherry lightly filled his nostrils in a fluffy-feeling make-believe. All of them were getting along with it, cheering and Kurt simply clutched onto his bag as tightly as possible. Suddenly weighed down by his rubber boots, almost as if he was trying to grip onto reality itself in fear of it sailing through his head and crashing into the form of Karofsky.
"Don't ever look back. Don't ever look back."
And Kurt won't. He grinned, clutching even tighter on the clutch on his bag. He hadn't seemed to register the fact that this was not his reality. There were cheers, mounds of them – applauses like Kurt had been starved of. Except he really didn't seem to care anymore. It took him a moment to realise that he was clapping too. His grin left but if he had a mirror, he would've realised his eyes were glistening a rather faint blue.
Blaine's last look, the last look he shot, was at Kurt.
Kurt suddenly felt like he was the centre of everyone's attention. Blaine had walked towards him and now all eyes were on Kurt. He felt like they were to see how mismatched his clothing was, how off he looked, how he was misplaced there but all Blaine did was offer him a smile. "I suppose you really are rock stars," Kurt chimed in, still trying to register the applause.
"You don't like me very much, Kurt," Kurt had stopped right there, dead in his tracks. Had Blaine been able to read his mind? Blaine had smiled anyway though, almost as if nothing can dampen his mood.
Kurt didn't dare meet Blaine's eyes as Blaine added on. "So I'd have to put some love potion in your cup of coffee. How does a latte sound?"
Kurt was thrown back completely, stunned. It almost sounded like a date.
Blaine chuckled. "Come on."
The piano started playing again in his mind. Suddenly, years of piano practice that he'd never dared to skip that had left his hands sore and in pain didn't seem to matter at all.
This time, Kurt had reached out to grab Blaine's hand. And he never did let go of it either.
If Kurt had a perfect scene for a coffee shop, it would all be warm-coloured, beige, cream, brown – kind of like Starbucks without the green logo. Just plain warm colours…and that was exactly how the Dalton dining hall was like.
Blaine had pushed the small coffee cup. Kurt would've preferred a bigger size but he knew that he should technically cut down on his caffeine consumption. "Latte." Blaine called out.
"Thank you," Kurt said in a low voice, almost as if he was worrying about disrupting the fabulous design on the walls that even Kurt would have never thought of in a billion years.
"This is Wes," Blaine explained. "David." Each nodded to their name.
"It's very civilised for you to invite me for coffee before beating me up for spying," of course, none of them appeared to be able to hit him, but Kurt knew better than appearances gave. He also knew that there was no way that he could be in this beautiful room without something going terribly amiss, and since he was so used to being pushed to his limit, he would expect this. It won't be painful. At least there was no discomfort in his stomach as of yet, just the warmth of the latte.
"We're not going to beat you up," Wes' dark eyes didn't seem to have any amount of darkness in them. Ironically, they were nearly pitch black.
David called him endearing with a grin. Blaine sipped his coffee.
Blaine then added on in an understanding voice, "Which led me to believe that spying on us wasn't the real reason you came."
Kurt wanted to throw up now. He'd much rather have Blaine beat him up or throw the scolding hot coffee on Kurt's face. Kurt actually felt like everything was written from him. Can Blaine see Kurt's vacant eyes, his visible ribcage underneath his shirt, and the thoughts of self-abuse that he'd been running over his mind for days now? Can he hear any of it?
Kurt can only smile, a fake smile, before chuckling humourlessly. "Can I ask you guys a question?" They didn't say anything which led Kurt to believe that their silence was a silent 'we're waiting for the question' type of thing. "Are you guys all gay?"
Various chuckles were only thrown in response instead of the shove Kurt had expected.
"Uh, no," Blaine explained, eyes still lit with humour. "I mean, I am, but the other two have girlfriends." He pointed to them in indication when talking. Kurt realised that Blaine used hand gestures a lot up until now. He didn't know what that meant. He didn't know what any of that meant.
The latte was still warm.
"There is a zero-tolerant harassment policy."
"Everyone gets treated the same." This all seemed like fucking music to Kurt's ears and he had quite a restrictive taste of music currently. Usually choosing to scream in his pillow at the dead end of the night and calling it heavy metal. "No matter what they are. It's pretty simple."
Kurt was rendered speechless. Blaine was still staring at him, almost as if he was waiting.
"Would you guys excuse us?" Blaine asked, and they left, just like that. Knowingly. Almost. They said something but Kurt's anxiety was pretty much through the roof and the coffee he'd just ingested tasted too bitter in his mouth.
"I'd take you're having trouble at school." Blaine simply stated.
Kurt wanted to ask how sunshine curls knew.
"I'm the only person out of the closet in this school," Kurt finally admitted. "And I tried to stay strong about it, but there's this Neanderthal who has made it his mission to make my life a living Hell. And nobody seems to notice."
All of these words seemed unclear. They were raging with some other emotion that Kurt couldn't read, an emotion that made his stomach drop ten times lower and his mind shout: just don't think about it anymore.
"I know how you feel," Blaine finally said. Kurt wanted to retort that no, you don't, but Blaine's eyes told a different story. "I got taunted at my old school. And it really…"
Blaine shook his head, as if trying not to think about it, "…pissed me off. I even complained about it to the facility. They're sympathetic and all but I can just tell that nobody really cared. It was just like 'hey, if you're gay, your life is just going to be miserable'. There's nothing you can do about it. So I left. And I came here," another gesture with his hands and his eyes wandered around, barely flickering with emotion as it was. "So that was that."
Kurt stared down.
"So you have two options," and now, Kurt had met Blaine's eyes again. "You know I'd love to tell you to just come and enroll here but tuition's also kind of steep and I know that it's not an option for everyone or…"
Kurt's eyes were hungry for the other option. "You can refuse to be a victim."
Suddenly, Kurt was unsure. His mind reeling with a thousand thoughts. Blaine suddenly said those words that rung into Kurt's ear, "prejudice is just ignorance. You have a chance right now to change it."
"How?" Kurt just really didn't want to. His stomach was concaving in, almost like a mash of pain and that…other unidentifiable emotion.
"Confront him. Call him out." Blaine said, and then added on.
"I ran, Kurt." Blaine said. "I didn't stand up. I let it all chase me away and it's something I really, really regret."
Kurt nodded, standing up to leave.
He really didn't want to think this way, but…what if Kurt wanted to be the victim?
Kurt slid out of his bed. He looked into the mirror, grunting as he took a handful of his hair which was falling out. Either from lack of food or because he wasn't quite maintaining it. Even if he wasn't quite maintaining it, why it was falling out was making him angry and confused. Burt had called him downstairs, and Kurt didn't even meet his eyes. He was wearing one too many layers, skipped breakfast and drank three cups of coffee.
All of them were lattes. His mind was still swimming in this warmth ecstasy.
He could not stop thinking of Blaine, or the conflicting emotions when he'd seen Blaine. Sometimes, he hated him. Mostly because Blaine reminded him of himself, and he hated himself. Kurt never knew why but he had contracted this hatred for his body. In his English glass, he had to fill in blanks and found the word guilty on his paper. He rolled his eyes. Guilty as charged, Kurt was ultimately avoiding reality by thinking of Blaine and Dalton. Every little corner reminded him of the perfection that was Dalton academy and to be honest, he wanted to escape there…
His cellphone buzzed. Once. Twice.
In the choir room. Courage.
In the hallway. Courage.
So Kurt stood up. He screamed. He yelled. He was done being in pain. He was angry now and suddenly grew five inches and ninety pound of muscle and just wanted to stand. He got…
A kiss.
His mind raced and he felt like falling flat on his face. The image of Blaine's text still numb in his mind. He didn't know why. He couldn't tell anyone. Not anyone but Blaine.
He didn't know why, but nobody can know. Nobody.
But Blaine.
Kurt was walking with Blaine. Blaine all decked in his Warbler uniform. Suddenly seeing him out in the real world made Kurt believe that something was terribly wrong with the world. It made Blaine real. He still quite resembled Prince Charming. Suddenly, when he smiled, he made Kurt melt instead of annoying him with his teeth.
Kurt just didn't know why his emotions shifted so quickly. Just that Blaine was safe. Hearing him talk about his struggles at his old school suddenly made Kurt feel like Blaine was safe. The only safe person in Kurt's life. The only one Kurt stuck an 'okay' label to.
"Just let me do all the talking," they were walking up together towards one of the school entrances. Almost climbing. Almost something.
"There he is," Kurt said, eyes on Dave.
He wondered if the blue sweater he was wearing could get any bigger compared to how small he felt. Suddenly, the jutting of his bones underneath was hurting him and there was just ice. How long had it been since he'd had anything but coffee?
Lattes. All of them.
"I've got your back."
Kurt's mind flashed to the Warbler performance – "Don't look back." Kurt was only looking forward at Dave's face.
"Excuse me," Kurt's stomach churned at Blaine's politeness, almost reminding him that Blaine was pretty much the equivalent of a fictional character in a romance novel.
"Hey, lady boys."
Dave stared at him. "That your boyfriend, Kurt?"
Blaine's voice suddenly turned icier. "Kurt and I want to talk to you about something." He sounded so strong. Kurt wondered how he could've been fragile at all. If it was all a lie. Everything seemed like a lie.
"I gotta go to class."
He touched Kurt's chest, even lightly. Kurt was suddenly aware of the sharpness of his chest.
"Kurt told me what you did," Blaine said, eyes settling down at the jock. Not quite giving up with the extreme confidence he was sporting now.
"Oh yeah?" the large male stared back up at Blaine. "What's that?"
"You kissed me," suddenly, Kurt spoke. He couldn't believe how he sounded, different. At least to himself. He sounded different.
"I don't know whatcha talking about."
Kurt looked at Blaine. His stomach was seriously hurting him. Kurt pinned it down to hunger. He was unaware of when was the last time he'd eaten. It was seriously jagging up his stomach now. But what if you wanted to play the victim?
And like a guidance counselor or a therapist, Blaine calmly said. "It seems you may be a little confused. And that's totally normal. This is a very hard thing to come to terms with and you should just know that you're not alone."
Dave turned around, suddenly fury in his eyes.
Kurt seriously felt like throwing up by now. Kurt heard a series of grunts as Blaine was pushed up against the fence. All Kurt can suddenly see was blood pooling from skin, bursting…he couldn't fucking take it! Kurt suddenly had the power to push away the large male. Out of nowhere. He didn't know how any of that can make sense.
"Stop it!"
Stop all of it. He suddenly left. The feeling slightly went away. He didn't want to look back at Blaine. Suddenly, he was afraid all of the visuals in his head would come true. The blood that Kurt had been accustomed to seeing. All of it.
"Well, he's not coming out any time soon," Blaine said. "What's going on?" he said, as he noticed Kurt sitting down.
"Why are you so upset?"
Kurt felt his mind spinning. "'Cause until yesterday, I have never been kissed. At least, one that counted." He just waited for Blaine to kiss him now, to set it perfect, and right. To go back to that moment in Dalton. Piano keys still playing in Kurt's mind.
"Come on. I'll buy you lunch." Kurt's stomach nearly growled at the thought of food entering it. As they walked down, Kurt's eyes stared at the side of Blaine's face as his hand went to Blaine's. Kurt never quite stopped staring and as they left, their hands met with each other, if only for a second – for that second, neither of them let go.
His Father saved him. He was going to Dalton.
The uniform fit perfectly. His measurements were much better now than before. He wasn't always hungry and hurt. Suddenly, Kurt felt like floating again. He cannot feel most of his bones as previously. Most of his favourite pants now fit again as accustomed to the weight gain. Suddenly, Kurt felt like this was a fantasy again, a perfect elaborate fantasy.
He walked in with a grin that can burn through the whole world. He wore a pin, just so he didn't feel out of place. It was the only thing he can dress him up in. He walked down those halls, proud. Suddenly, everything else didn't matter and Hogwarts can nip its butt.
A random male wanted a high-five.
It was all just so perfect.
"And now, as a welcoming addition to the Warblers: Kurt Hummel," he heard his name as golden doors opened.
Kurt walked in. They were all cheering. The applause he'd been starving for. Right there.
"In our oldest tradition," Wes looked up at Kurt with a smile, "For our newest Warbler."
"Kurt," Blaine looked down at the cage. "Pavarotti."
Kurt heard Wes drawl on, talk about the importance of the bird. It was so small in its cage. Kurt tried to maintain a smile, but it reminded him of something…someone. "It's your job to take care of him, so he can carry on the Warbler legacy."
Suddenly, Kurt's stomach was hurting him again and he couldn't look at those innocent, dark eyes. They reminded him of someone.
"Protect him. That bird is your voice."
Somehow, Kurt took him. It didn't feel so scary anymore. He felt like he can take care of this bird. This bird. Kurt made a joke, and when nobody laughed, he tried to disregard what he'd said. Wes had done his 'order in the court' wooden hammer smashing against the table, and Kurt was brought to attention.
"Council come to order…"
He got a solo. He went to Rachel. The song she said she wanted people to sing for her funeral – Don't Cry for Me Argentina.
"It won't be easy. You'll think it's strange…when I try to explain how I feel. That I still need your love after all that I've done…you won't believe me…"
Kurt sung his heart out. They didn't give him a solo, but somehow, that didn't matter. He blamed Pavarotti, as he fed the adorable bird. He didn't really blame him. How could he? As Kurt fed him, Blaine walked in. Somehow, it was strange having Blaine and Pavarotti in the same room. It was somewhat wrong, somehow. He didn't really understand. Kurt didn't really know that it wasn't because he didn't understand – it was because he didn't quite want to understand.
All Kurt did was sit down, stare at Pavarotti, feel…some strange intense emotion, and then feed him a lot of food. All of which Pavarotti didn't much of at all. After the third day, Kurt got him nibbling on a very small piece of cracker but he stopped nibbling after a while, turning to his water. It made Kurt concerned for the bird, that he'd barely eat, and he didn't sing quite as much. Sometimes, Pavarotti wouldn't sing at all.
Kurt pressed his head forward. Pavarotti looked sad.
Blaine walked down towards him, holding a coffee – now, that Kurt was looking down at Pavarotti's food habits and back at Blaine – he realised he'd never seen Blaine without some form of caffeine but he'd very rarely seen Blaine eat. Of course, he wasn't around Blaine 24/7, a meager amount of time. He wondered if it would be considered rude for Kurt to ask Blaine to take off the form-fitting blazer just to see what was underneath. "I might even say you're a little love struck for Pavarotti."
Kurt smiled softly. A sudden twinge of emotion twisted in his stomach. "Well, he's quite a charmer."
Kurt looked back down at the bird, that was burying his face anywhere away from Kurt. Blaine sat his coffee down, opening Pavarotti's cage and the bird eagerly flew into Blaine's hand.
"Wait, wait!" Kurt said.
"He needs to be out of his cage a little," Blaine simply said, laying the warbler on his shoulder. He fluttered his wings. "Don't worry. His wings are clipped."
Kurt placed his hand towards Pavarotti's feet, hoping the bird will hop on. Blaine chuckled. "Not when I'm here."
"Oh," Kurt chuckled softly. "So Pavarotti likes you, doesn't he?"
Blaine shrugged with a small smile on his face as he pulled Pavarotti up in his hand again. Blaine had spent the next six minutes trying to get the hyper bird in the cage now before shutting it. "If you're going to take him out, don't do it inside. Try to keep it in the dorms," he murmured against the cage. Pavarotti moved towards Blaine again. Blaine had fed him a few crackers and the bird hungrily nipped. This made Kurt's stomach hurt him. He didn't know why, but it was almost as if the bird had told him that something was wrong with him. Something was wrong.
Decked in perfect golden lined colours, white walls, brilliant maroon curtains and coffee-coloured rooms – there was something wrong. Kurt can't put a finger on it, but something.
He watched as Pavarotti sulked in his cage. Blaine left with his cup of coffee.
Kurt laid a hand on Blaine's. Blaine didn't do anything. He smiled, and let Kurt squeeze back. Kurt stood up, and they walked downstairs. They went to the dining room. Kurt reached in for fluffy, comfort food that tasted amazing and was warm.
In the back of his mind, it never left Kurt that one of Blaine's hand was grasping tightly against Kurt's. The other one was picking at his food, as if there was something wrong with his food. This made Kurt uncomfortable for a bit, and the taste of heated mac and cheeses, rice pudding, hot chocolate and dumpling soup made him forget the fact that Blaine was picking at his food for a moment.
Kurt looked up, meeting Blaine's eyes and suddenly felt an uncomfortable tightness in his chest.
"Blaine," sunshine curls, Kurt smiled weakly. "Aren't you hungry?"
"Oh, no," Blaine said it with his usual careless demeanor. He shrugged. "Big lunch." Kurt's finger graced over the small bone on Blaine's bony wrist.
Kurt didn't say anything. "Blaine…do you have curls when your hair is ungelled?"
Blaine was thrown back by this question and nodded his head, allowing a soft smile to appear on his face. "Wild, horrific Medusa hair."
Kurt chuckled humourlessly, eyes still set on Blaine's wrist as Blaine took the first bite of food. As Kurt saw Nick walk towards them, Blaine suddenly took another bite almost as if all food had suddenly became interesting.
"Kurt?" Blaine raised an eyebrow.
Kurt sighed. He hadn't realised he'd been gripping too tightly on Blaine's hand. "I'm sorry. I'm just…stressed," he tried to find the word for it.
"Just wait until the next semester," Nick dully muttered, taking a spoonful of his rice.
Kurt's eyes never left Blaine's wrist for some time as he nodded dully. There was no piano music playing in his head tonight.
"Don't try so hard next time."
"I didn't realise that caring was frowned upon."
Kurt knew what that meant, as he washed his face for the seventh time that day, trying to wash away any evidence of…his entire face. It was almost as if he was just trying to conceal his identity. His socks were suddenly too bright. His boxers too tight. His mind was reeling with numbness, and he can't quite grasp on anything anymore.
It was all fleeting. Something was wrong, as he washed his hand with too expensive soap, and washed away his face with lukewarm perfect temperature water.
Walking down the hallway late at night after his standard skin-care routine that wasn't going to suffer here, with a mask of a lovely cucumber and mint infusion, he had passed by the nurse's office. He walked inside and found Nick on the bed.
Kurt slicked into the room. "Nick Duval?"
Nick looked up at him and now, Kurt can see how small Nick looked. He looked so short all of a sudden, even though he was only an inch shorter than Kurt.
"I don't know how you did it in your old school, but did you notice we all wear uniforms here?"
Kurt's mind suddenly played that statement that Blaine had told him, over and over again, as his eyes dropped to Nick's body. Nick looked okay. He looked okay. Jeff was suddenly walking towards Nick, laying a hand on Nick's cheek.
"Leave, Kurt," Jeff's voice was soft, innocent. Like its always been.
Kurt moved closer, and Jeff's eyes suddenly filled with a flash of fury. "Kurt, please! Just go! This isn't for you to know or anyone to find out!"
Kurt suddenly felt something was wrong, something. He found himself catching a glimpse of what. Nick's cheeks coloured. He was embarrassed. He looked exhausted, and now that Kurt was paying complete attention, Nick's shoulders were shaking horribly.
The uniform hid most of it. Kurt can only see what had spilled onto the sheets with contact of Nick's ass to the sheets.
Now, that Kurt was thinking about it, he continued to make his way down the hall, splashed hot water on his face in an attempt to erase that image as he turned towards the toilet, and threw up the contents of his stomach. He mewled in pain, curling up and holding his head in his hands. An intense emotion burst from Kurt, making his stomach and chest tighten.
"Hey," Kurt looked up, eyes full of tears, finding Blaine there, as Kurt was pulled up by him.
"N-N-Nick. The blood…"
Blaine shut his eyes, nodding his head in confirmation. Kurt was suddenly shell-shook. Nick, so innocent and adorable, what kind of monster would dare attack him in any way? Make him bleed that way? Make him possibly traumatised for life.
"It's okay," Blaine said, rubbing Kurt's shoulder. "He's going to be okay."
Blaine's reassurances did nothing to Kurt's mind, which was replaying it over and over again. He only heard stories about these kinds of things. He didn't really want to think about them. He passed by the nurse's office, finding Jeff painfully clinging onto Nick's body, almost afraid to let go. In that moment, Kurt can recongise the one intense emotion sprouting from Nick's eyes.
Kurt's hand went to Blaine's, holding it tightly. The hallways were too vast, too silent. Which was perfect because Kurt wanted to forget. The candles were lit. They always were at night times. If the lights were open, it would disturb some people, but everyone knew it wasn't quite realistic that all the Warblers be in bed by nine pm, and even if so, in the case of an emergency, the ability to see where one was going was crucially important.
Kurt's eyes seemed to wander towards the candles near Blaine's room.
The roses were dead. One of the candles unlit. Kurt seemed to notice, as Blaine had taken him to his dorm room, which he normally share with Jeff. Jeff probably wanted to stay with Nick.
Kurt was hurting again. He normally stayed with Nick. He normally watched his cute rosy heart face in the morning, with that brilliant white smile, and those eyes that were to-die-for. He watched him every day. How could this have happened? He almost always suspected that the Warbler halls were like a castle sometimes.
There was a dragon in their castle. It unlit hope, and destroyed fragile, pretty things. Like roses and Nick.
The light was slowly stripping away into something darker, a bit too dark for Kurt's taste. Kurt didn't that Blaine was by his bedside, holding his hand until he fell asleep. He woke up groggy and foggy. He took a steamy shower, and wore the uniform, which suddenly felt wrong, almost as if he was being stripped of identity. Kurt then realised he wanted very much to just be stripped of identity. He threw his pin away, and left with Blaine.
They held hands again and the piano was playing softer than usual.
They were all sitting down, happy chatter, roses all around, and vases bursting to the brim with lilies and ribbons. Kurt felt disturbed for some reason, as images of Nick still played in his mind. Something was wrong. Something was terribly, terribly wrong. Kurt wondered if he should mention Nick, or Jeff. David said something. Blaine drank coffee, seeming completely unbothered by it.
Nick walked towards them, eyes completely vacant. Knee slightly bobbing up and down when he sat down, almost as if he was trying to keep control of his body. Jeff sat down beside him. Jeff's eyes were just as vacant. Nick emptily ate his sandwich. He laughed bitterly.
Nobody said anything. It was as if whatever happened to Nick yesterday didn't really happen as long as nobody talked about it.
"You're not going to make it as a Warbler if all you care about is getting noticed."
Blending in. Like Nick. Like Nick who was raped that nobody really gave a damn about. Like Nick who flinched silently when Blaine touched his wrist, and the Nick that was wandering around the halls late at night. That Nick. It was almost like Nick wasn't noticed at all. No support. Nothing. It all didn't exist.
Nick was fake happy all the time. And he was perfect at it.
With that thought in his mind, Kurt felt his cold skin meet the lukewarm water again.
"I know it's going to take some getting used to. But you'll fit in soon enough. I promise."
Kurt didn't want to fit in. He didn't even want to know what it meant. Today, he accidentally found Nick in the bathroom. Nick's arms were slashed completely, his arms around the toilet bowl as he threw up. He didn't quite catch Kurt staring, as Kurt watched the blood run down from Nick's arms. There was a razorblade right beside Nick's arms. Nobody would know.
He stepped backwards, and hit Blaine's body.
Blaine pulled Kurt away from it, practically shoving Kurt down the hallway with him, almost as if not wanting to see Nick break, almost as if preventing Kurt from doing the same.
"Blaine! This is ridiculous! Life's not all sunshine and rainbows! Nick has been raped. He cuts—"
Blaine looked at him, straight at him. "Don't you think we know?" it took for a while to notice that Blaine's neck was full of bruises, his hands were cold and clammy. His hair was dishevelled into their natural curl state. His eyes had grey circles. His cheeks were sunken in. "I know, Kurt."
The images were still vividly haunting Kurt. He was sitting down with a notebook on his desk a few days later. Between worrying about Nick, slipping in secret notes of care and love in his blazer that ended up crumbled and into the trashcan and wondering about what Blaine really had, or any of these people did, he'd gotten behind in his schoolwork. This was something he couldn't afford at all, so he had sat down and had done most of his work. This led to solitary confinement for days. Kurt realised it was much more peaceful to bury his nose in countless of information other than going to Warbler practice or seeing Nick walk by with those bands that were made to hide everything.
It came close for Kurt to realise that Nick would die one day because of blood loss if he kept this up. He really wanted to call someone but every adult authority seemed to be brainwashed. He can go anywhere in the weekends and all, but to be honest, he didn't either have the time with Blaine scheduling Warbler sessions – and wanting to tag along. It seemed friendly at first, and now, it was forceful, like he wanted Kurt not to come to terms with everything. Like he wanted to hide everything from Kurt.
Blaine had put down a stereo, smiling at him as he walked into the room. "Hey."
With that being said, Kurt had somehow forgotten that Christmas was coming.
"You scared me," Kurt chuckled humourlessly. Blaine looked so put together. He saw a glimpse of Nick passing. He seemed fine as well. Everyone seemed fine, but really, everything was so skin-deep, so superficial, so…nothing.
"I'm Marley's ghost and I'm here to tell you to stop studying so hard."
Kurt wanted to bury his nose in his book right now, but his eyes never seemed to meet Blaine's. He looked for bruising, for grey circles under his eyes – nothing. Either Blaine knew how to apply good makeup or Kurt had been confined to this dorm room for far too long. He realised the last time he remembered going out with Blaine and Mercedes was in November. They were in mid-December, with the 25th seemingly right around the corner.
"What's with the boom box?"
"I need you to sing with me," Blaine said. "Well, rehearse with me. I got a gig singing Baby It's Cold Outside in the—"
Somehow, Kurt's mind froze after Blaine saying that song. It was somewhat of a cliché song, but it was also something Kurt remembered from his childhood, where everything was better. Of all the songs, Blaine just happened to blurt out that perfect one.
"Uh, personal favourite," Kurt knew that Blaine probably didn't want to hear a sob story about how he used to sing this with his Mother all the time before. "Too bad they'd never let us sing together."
Blaine had a nearly quizzical expression. If you knew Blaine Anderson quite well, you'd say his eyes dulled up and he was fumbling with his fingers out of nervousness.
"I mean, as…two artists," Kurt corrected.
Suddenly swooned by the amount of lightness in his chest, Kurt didn't realise until very later that studying and Nick somehow was at the back of his mind, non-existent, with Blaine's so glittery-beautiful eyes.
"So are you going to help me out here?"
Kurt made some ludicrous comment about anything to get him to stop studying or something or rather. To be honest, all Kurt wanted to do was escape the reality of Dalton now. Before, it was McKinley. He wanted that fantasy back, that perfection – and Blaine was going to sing with him and everything was snowy and fluffy. He wanted to forget everything. Even about Nick. He knew this was wrong. He knew this was probably the way that Blaine was thinking, the way that everyone was thinking – everyone would escape the world and ignore everyone's issues simply because they can't handle it anymore.
By the end of the song, Kurt was on the couch, leg on top of the other, eyes meeting with Blaine and it was so surreal and dream-like that Kurt thought it was wrong not to think about Nick. Or Jeff's pain over Nick. Or David. Or anything but Blaine's eyes looking back at him right now as their hand met for a momentary slide together, gripping tightly for only a second. But for that second, they were never letting go.
When Blaine made a comment about Kurt being much-better than that girl, Kurt curled his lips, tasting a sudden infusion of ice-cream. Something he'd tastelessly eaten outside from what he'd told Franny, one of the passing workers, to get for him. He didn't want to face real people, and he decided if he was going to be a scolded, old bat in a cave, he might as well eat as much ice-cream as possible.
Then Will walked in and suddenly, Kurt felt sudden excitement. To be honest, McKinley didn't seem as much of a Hell as the…feelings he got at Dalton sometimes. Sometimes. Not like right now.
Kurt would realise later if Blaine hadn't done the duet with him, he'd have thrown himself at Will and told him to take him away.
"Mr Schuester," he stood up, laughing, all the glee in his eyes. He caught a reflection of him in the mirror, all rosy cheeks. Had Blaine done this to him? Made him feel so perfect, so lovely, made him forget everything in a fraction of a second an like a snowflake drifting on his tongue, made him melt so keenly on the inside?
Now that Kurt was revising it, the emotion had…had to be love. It had to be.
You just want to love people, don't you? But you don't love anyone. Not anyone. Kurt's mind was snippily telling him, but he really didn't listen right now. Everything was at the back of his head, like the apocalypse and Nick's cuts.
"Good to see you, Kurt," he gave him a quick hug that was barely even a hug. "Someone special?" he indicated towards the doorway.
Kurt had denied it, then said, "On the upside, I'm in love with him and he's actually gay. I call that progress."
In love. Now that Kurt said it, he can feel it bursting out of every core of his being. Starved for the affection that only Blaine can provide, wanting to see those eyes, so sweet – honey in the light when they were doing their duet. Everything was all so magical again, like a bursting beautiful fantasy. "How are you doing?" Mr Schue asked.
If it was only a day ago, Kurt would have miserably cried, but right now, all he could complain about, with that ridiculous smile on his face, "Classes are harder but people are kinder."
He made a joke about pencils and weapons and asked Mr Schue for why he was there. Mr Schue confessed to his situation of needing help of finding Sue a present.
Before Kurt can stop the words from escaping his lips, "I have the perfect idea."
It only dawned on him a few hours later, that he used the word 'perfect' and it made him feel pretty on the inside again.
Kurt had been walking down with a warm holiday basket for Blaine. It was a combination of Blaine's favourite candies – all seemed so bright and cheerful and Kurt didn't even care about the calorific content or nutritional value. He had also made a few muffins with the help of Franny, the worker that was so inclined to get him ice-cream, and just as he turned around the corner. He was faced with Nick curled up to a corner, and his eyes full of tears. Still somewhat in shock. Kurt turned around, walking across from the hallway.
He should've kneeled down and made sure Nick wasn't hurt or if his cuts weren't too severe, but until now, Kurt realised one thing about him: he ran away. A lot right now.
Kurt didn't seem to care at all. There was no courage in him, but none existed in Blaine either. He spun towards the bathroom, just to calm himself down. In the next five seconds, he threw up completely. There was Blaine on the ground, there was an incident amount of blood pooling from his head, dripping mercilessly against the ground.
Blaine was dead. Blaine just killed himself—
Kurt felt numb with shock.
This time, when he twisted to throw up again, he found himself falling somewhere. From a bed, a height, he threw up the contents of his stomach. Suddenly, everything was white. Everything was clear in Kurt's mind, clearer than ever before.
Kurt looked around, seeing his Father make him stand up, and pulled him against the hospital cot. How long had he been here?
"Blaine," Kurt called out in pain.
Burt didn't seem to hear him, as he pulled the sheet against Kurt's body. "Just calm down, okay?"
"How long was I asleep for?"
Kurt noticed that the calendar on the left corner, but couldn't believe the day. "A couple of weeks," Burt finally responded as Kurt nodded his head. "Do you want any coffee? I can get ya some coffee. They do it the way you like it here, with some low-fat creamer and shit."
"I'm the only person out of the closet in this school. And I tried to stay strong about it, but there's this Neanderthal who has made it his mission to make my life a living Hell. And nobody seems to notice." Blaine whispered. His predator and bully was watching him.
Kurt can remember, watching him walk down the hallways, hollow cheeks, gaunt, if anyone wanted to throw him around one or twice, it would've surely bruised him. He seemed so small and brittle.
Kurt's therapist explained that in Kurt's mind. He made it out so he was the victim. Pavarotti was Blaine. Pavarotti who wouldn't eat or drink, flinched at his touch but was warm and welcoming to everyone else.
"Protect him. That bird is your voice."
Kurt's therapist then went on to explain how he'd make himself the victim just so he would forget. He made an elaborate fantasy where everything was okay, where Blaine hadn't been bullied, where Blaine hadn't complained to the facility with hopeful eyes and was shoved away. Kurt made an alternate ending where Blaine just ran off and found someplace – that he didn't really slowly break, writhing, that his stepfather didn't really sexually abuse him. Kurt seemed to make up Nick's pain to take off some of the agony off Blaine, to pretend it was non-existent, but slowly, his fantasy had aspects of his real life.
That nobody cared when Blaine started self-harming, when Blaine was raped, when Blaine was pushed to the point where he just blew his brains out. That Christmas morning, Blaine had honestly thought it was a gift he'd given to everyone.
Most of all, his therapist had told him that he had created a fantasy where he wasn't Blaine's bully, that he didn't take Blaine into his arms and forcefully kissed him. She told him that Kurt had denied all of it, that he was in some sick way in love with Blaine.
"You said," she said, looking from the clipboard. Her black haired bob. "If I recall…that…you held his hand when you found him, right from when his pulse was very weak until it was non-existent. Is that correct?"
Kurt seemed to push this away. "When can I see Blaine?"
"Mr Hummel, Blaine is dead."
Kurt's eyes were a soft clear blue. He looked down at his hands, almost as if imaging Blaine's hand there. He can still feel Blaine's hand.
"Mr Hummel," her voice was curt. "You do not love Blaine. You have a personality disorder. You have only created a fantasy where you can love and feel emotion. You do not care about anything. You've stated this several times before."
"I can love," Kurt whispered with some soft darkness to his voice.
"Mr Hummel, you killed your Mother. You are a danger to your Father and everyone around you. You cannot deny this any longer. The intense emotion you were describing for years now?" her eyes were full of hardness, like Kurt was trash. "It was guilt, something you don't recongise if it's not in dream form. I have to transfer you to a psych ward."
Kurt stood up to leave, and walked outside where Burt was looking down at him. "What went on there, huh?"
"Shut up," Kurt murmured coldly under his breath.
Burt laid his hand onto Kurt's shoulder. "Don't worry. They gave me meds. Plus therapy sounds good, huh?"
Kurt didn't even look at him. "Where's Blaine?"
Burt didn't answer.
"Where. Is. Blaine?" Kurt repeated, voice full of current spite.
"You really wanna know?" Burt whispered. Kurt nodded his head. The drive was about fifteen minutes afterwards. Kurt had stumbled across the field. Burt looked uncertain as Kurt made his way towards the stone. He waited for some sort of emotion, anything. Nothing came. He looked down at the grave. Blaine Anderson. 1995-2012. There were no flowers. Nobody gave a damn about some gay kid. Kurt didn't really either. He stared at the grave for some time, waiting to feel some sort of emotion. He felt something conflicting, something in his mind – he didn't know. Maybe it was a feeling, something. Kurt was somewhat tempted to dig up the body to see him.
Somehow, he can remember it vividly now.
"I love him. You believe me, right?" Kurt said with a bit of tightness in his voice.
"Of course, I do, kiddo," Burt didn't believe a single word Kurt had said. "Come on. I gotta find some meds to put you on."
Personality disorders were untreatable. They can only hope some meds would work and that was a long shot as well. Therapy didn't work, so they stuck him in a school, maneuvering him with a straightjacket.
Kurt took a deep breath when he saw the institution he was being moved too. He knew this all along.
Kurt watched as Nick, a boy that used to be in his school, slit his wrists. Jeff, a boy with panic disorder, held him close. Trent threw up his food after eating the whole damn hall. David was bipolar. A boy named Sebastian Smythe had severe narcissism. Dalton was a lot like he'd imagined it – except in reality, he just didn't give a damn well fuck about any of these people. In his fantasy, or so his therapist said, he made it the complete opposite – that he was the only one with emotion. It was always the opposite in his mind. That didn't matter because Kurt didn't dream anymore.
Nick's self-harming escalated but the only one he leaned on was Jeff. Kurt liked making Jeff panic by keeping a rather large array of anything pointy he found around just so Nick can slit his wrists and die. When he did, Jeff was completely mute. He called Trent fat all the time until he was pushed into his currently 90lb state. Kurt played with David's meds until his rapid-cycling bipolar had spun out of control. He had slammed Sebastian's mirror into his face and slashed his body with a knife. Instead of his perfect body and face, he now had multiple scars.
This world was different. It was no fantasy. It was mere reality. Kurt could not love anyone. He had no ability to sing because to sing, he had to have a heart to sing. The minute he saw a bird like Pavarotti, he slammed it headfirst into the window and counted how many seconds until it was completely dead. In three years, he'd been moved to a cell with other people who wanted to murder and have sex with corpses. He was insane, but he was too young to be insane according to the DSM-IV anyway. His life was planned before him. The minute he turned 18, he will be diagnosed with a personality disorder he'd had since young and thrown in jail for the rest of his life.
His life was cold, dark, miserable and Kurt did not wish a better reality for anyone.
You fucking let go.
"Fantasy, by Merriam-Webster: the power or process of creating especially unrealistic or improbable mental images in response to psychological need ."
questions to answer: why was Kurt in a coma for weeks? i thought that it was from shock at first. but you can come up with whatever you want. and yes, this is a bit skewed. there are a lot of fill in the gaps that i made just so you can fill them in yourself c:.
xo Peanut Butter/Sam. |
global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/25980 | *Grey Lord*
(AN: well here is the new chapter of grey lord. Sorry for the wait.)
QWXERTbyyuerfurmnuyuyhayerVT YBUMHTYCEXEDCBhunhyu btfvbtbyfrfnrvn
Harry gradually started to become more alert. The feeling of warmth and safety surrounded his tired mind and body. The awareness that he was not alone was slow to creep upon the young hybrid. A soft numbness, warmth, was enfolding his senses.
Purring softly he snuggled into the closest source of warmth, which just happened to start to vibrate with laughter.
"Look Gred. He is…"
"…So cute. I know Forge."
Startled Harry opened his eyes and sat up. 'What in the world'
He was sandwiched in the middle of five men! Looking down he met red eyes. In the back of his mind, Harry started to scream and panic; 'VOLDEMORT is IN MY BED!
Harry would've got up and ran away if the mans arms hadn't tightened around him.
Looking around Harry was greeted with the sight of two more surprises. 'Snape? Malfoy Sr.?
"What's going on?" Harry's voice shocked everyone, even himself. It was, hypnotic. Every vowel entranced his mates and himself, distracting them from his question.
Unsurprisingly, it was Snape who snapped out first. "Potter" Harry looked to the man. "You know you just came into your inheritance, right?" Harry nodded. "Well it seems…."
Malfoy sr. interrupted,"We're your mates."
Harry stared shocked at the five males before him. "Mates" He squeaked.
Voldemort's voice was a dark hiss, "Yesssssss Harry. Matesssss."
Startled, Harry looked at the man and did a double-take. For the first time Harry really looked at the man in front of him.
The man's skin, instead of sickly and sunken in, was covered in pale silver scales. While he still didn't have a nose, it wasn't as disturbing as before. He had wavy pitch black hair and a snake-like tongue. The new man's fingers were long and delicate, no longer knobby and clawed.
Looking around, he was startled to note that all of his mates looked different.
Severus had pale ivory skin and intense black eyes. His hair fell down his back in silky smooth waves, and his nose looked Romanian in nature and less huge. Age that harry hadn't even known was there was erased from his face.
Fred was still tall. But he had grown a little in bulk. His hair was a wild flame on his head and his eyes glowed an intense blue. Circling his biceps were bands of what looked like moving flame.
George on the other hand looked to be slightly taller than his brother, yet more elegant. Is fingers held more grace than Harry had ever seen in him. The man's Hair fell wildly down mid back; like scarlet water.
Perhaps the least and most startling of all of them was Malfoy Sr. He looked much the same as always except for the warmth and safety that radiated from the man. While the others felt safe, Snape and Voldemort were defiantly on edge, and Fred and George were busy cooing on how cute harry was. Lucius though, was calm and at peace.
"What happened to you guys?"
"HA" Snape scoffed, "as if you're one to talk."
Harry frowned, Puzzled. "What do you mean?" He tilted his head to the side, starting another round of coos from the twins.
"Haven't you looked at yourself yet?" Lucius asked.
"No, should I have?
In answer, Voldemort conjured a mirror himself.
Looking into it, Harry gasped.
QWXERTbyyuerfurmnuyuyhayerVT YBUMHTYCEXEDCBhunhyu btfvbtbyfrfnrvn
AN: well I am sorry this is shorter than the others, but the next one will be longer. |
global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/25995 | Enrichment G The Nature and Purpose of Law
Doctrine and Covenants Student Manual, (2002), 393–397
(G-1) Introduction
A significant aspect of this earthly existence is that all things are governed by law. Law gives order and purpose to the universe. Law provides the way for the Saints to grow, progress, and obtain happiness. That being the case, they need to understand the nature of law; the source of law; the means by which they can know true laws; the results of the application of laws, or what one may obtain by following the laws of God; and how the Lord has counseled His children to act in relationship to laws so that they can obtain the greatest benefits.
The Doctrine and Covenants helps the Saints to understand the nature, purpose, and effects of law.
stars and planets
“All things are numbered unto me, for they are mine and I know them” (Moses 1:35).
(G-2) The Eternal Nature of Law
The Doctrine and Covenants teaches that “all kingdoms have a law given; and … there is no space in the which there is no kingdom” (D&C 88:36–37). Thus, it is clear that all things in the vast immensity of space are under the influence of law. All things are controlled, governed, and upheld by law—“nothing is exempt.” Nothing is arbitrary or left to chance. The “same invarying result always flows from the same cause.” The principles of eternal law “are immutable, eternal, everlasting.” (McConkie, Mormon Doctrine, p. 433.)
The truth of this teaching is substantiated both by the revelations of God and by the scientific observations of mortals. As mankind progresses in scientific knowledge, it becomes more and more apparent that there is order in the universe, and that all things are governed by consistent and harmonious laws. From the atomic realm to the vast immensity of space there is universal order and consistency.
President Brigham Young taught that “there is no being in all the eternities but what is governed by law” (Discourses of Brigham Young, p. 1). Elder Bruce R. McConkie stated, similarly, that Christ “governs and is governed by law” (Mormon Doctrine, p. 432.) God has said, for example, that He is bound when His children do what He says (see D&C 82:10). He is bound to fulfill His promises, for He is a being of complete integrity who conforms totally to the laws of righteousness. He is a celestial being and abides by celestial law, for any being “who is not able to abide the law of a celestial kingdom cannot abide a celestial glory” (D&C 88:22).
President John Taylor said: “God is unchangeable, so are also his laws, in all their forms, and in all their applications, and being Himself the essence of law, the giver of law, the sustainer of law, all of those laws are eternal in all their operations, in all bodies and matter, and throughout all space. It would be impossible for Him to violate law, because in so doing He would strike at His own dignity, power, principles, glory, exaltation and existence.” (Mediation and Atonement, p. 168.)
D&C 88:36–39. What is the extent and the influence of God’s laws? What do you have to do to be justified?
D&C 88:34. God has all power because He is in perfect harmony with all law. What, then, is the need for us to develop the ability to conform totally to His laws? What would be the benefit of doing so?
D&C 59:4. The Lord promises that He will bless those who stand in Zion with “commandments not a few.” Do you think of the commandments of God as blessings or as restrictions?
How do these scriptures help you understand that laws and commandments are blessings?
(G-3) Christ Is the Lawgiver
Christ, as the Firstborn, was preeminent among the members of the Father’s family. He created this earth under the direction of the Father (see Moses 1:27–32) and was given authority to be God over it. Acting through the power and authority given Him by His Father, the Savior controls, directs, and governs the affairs of this earth. As God over this earth, Christ ordained laws, according to the will of the Father, for the benefit and progression of the whole human family. He is our lawgiver (see D&C 38:22; 64:13). Christ taught the Nephites, saying, “I am the law” (3 Nephi 15:9), meaning that He is the embodiment and the source of all law to mankind. He is not only the source of law and commandments given to mankind, but He provides the law, or organizing power, for the whole universe. This doctrine is taught more clearly in the Doctrine and Covenants than in any of the other standard works. He declared to His disciples that He was “the way, the truth, and the life” (John 14:6). The Doctrine and Covenants teaches that the Resurrection is only part of what this title means. Jesus is “the life” in a much more profound and all-inclusive way. A careful study of Doctrine and Covenants 88:6–13 yields the following insights about Christ as the source of law and light and life:
Christ is the source of an infinite, radiant stream of energy called “the light of Christ” (v. 7) which comes “from the presence of God to fill the immensity of space” (v. 12).
Christ is the light and power that fills the sun, moon, stars, and earth (see vv. 7–10).
This light of Christ is not only in all things but is the source of life for all things (see v. 13).
Somehow, this energy source which emanates from God and is named after Jesus Christ is also “the law by which all things are governed” (v. 13).
In other words, if somehow the light of Christ were to be extinguished, there would be no law, no order, no organization, and no life in the universe. Everything would collapse into universal chaos. According to the book of Hebrews, Christ “uphold[s] all things by the word of his power” (1:3). For this reason we look to Him for guidance: He is not only the source of law, He is the law.
The Prophet Joseph Smith taught the same thing when he said, “God himself, finding he was in the midst of spirits and glory, because he was more intelligent, saw proper to institute laws whereby the rest could have a privilege to advance like himself” (Teachings, p. 354).
Christ in America
“I am the law” (3 Nephi 15:9).
(G-4) God’s Purpose in Giving Laws to Mankind
This earth is a place where people are given the opportunity to learn, to prove themselves, and to develop the characteristics of Heavenly Father. In the premortal life, the children of Father in Heaven saw His greatness, His perfection, and His joy in an exalted status, and desired to be like Him. He also wanted His children to become as He is.
Although God’s laws are exact and immovable, they are revealed and given to mankind for one purpose—to bring to pass their ultimate joy. The Prophet Joseph Smith taught that “the Great Parent of the universe looks upon the whole of the human family with a fatherly care and paternal regard” (Teachings, p. 218), and that He “never will institute an ordinance or give a commandment to His people that is not calculated in its nature to promote that happiness which He has designed, and which will not end in the greatest amount of good and glory to those who become the recipients of his law and ordinances” (Teachings, pp. 256–57). The Prophet also said, “Whatever God requires is right, no matter what it is, although we may not see the reason thereof till long after the events transpire” (Teachings, p. 256).
God gives laws and commandments to His children to provide the only possible means whereby they may become like Him. The Prophet Joseph Smith taught:
“… God has given certain laws to the human family, which, if observed, are sufficient to prepare them to inherit this rest. This, then, we conclude, was the purpose of God in giving His laws to us.” (Teachings, pp. 53–54.)
(G-5) Certainty of the Promises and Consequences of Law
The Doctrine and Covenants teaches that all blessings are predicated upon laws and that if we desire a particular blessing, we must abide by the law that guarantees the blessing. If we do not conform to the bounds and conditions of a law, we are not justified in receiving the blessings associated with it. This theme is repeated again and again in the Doctrine and Covenants (see D&C 82:10; 88:38–39; 130:20–21; 132:5).
God has said that no one can come unto Him except by His laws. If we receive and obey His laws, then we will come to know God and become like Him, thus having eternal life. (See D&C 132:11–12, 21–25, 32; John 17:3). It is only by obedience to law that one can become sanctified. Those who, by their agency, submit to law and are governed by God’s laws are preserved, protected, and sanctified through the operation of those laws. Those who do not live the laws of God cannot be sanctified by the Savior through those laws; therefore, they must inherit a kingdom other than the celestial. Each of us must be able to abide by the law of the kingdom we inherit (see D&C 88:21–24; 34–35).
President Wilford Woodruff said: “The God of heaven, who created this earth and placed His children upon it, gave unto them a law whereby they might be exalted and saved in a kingdom of glory. For there is a law given unto all kingdoms, and all things are governed by law throughout the whole universe. Whatever law anyone keeps he is preserved by that law, and he receives whatever reward that law guarantees unto him. It is the will of God that all His children should obey the highest law, that they may receive the highest glory that is ordained for all immortal beings. But God has given all His children an agency, to choose what law they will keep.” (Millennial Star, 20 Dec. 1886, p. 801.)
The following diagram illustrates the consequences of our choice to obey or to reject the laws given to us by God:
Consider the following:
D&C 130:20; 132:5. What is the condition for receiving any blessing from God?
D&C 132:11–12, 21–25. What is the only means by which we can attain the glory of God?
D&C 88:21–24. What will determine the glory we inherit in the hereafter?
D&C 88:34–35. By what means can we be sanctified? What may keep us from being sanctified?
(G-6) How Should One Respond to Law?
The Lord has often instructed His people to learn His laws and teach them to others so that all may be edified and obtain the blessings that obedience to His laws generates (see D&C 42:12–13; 93:53; 107:99–100). Those who are His disciples will receive His laws and obey them (see D&C 41:5; 42:2). They will also obey the laws of the land in which they live (see D&C 58:21–22; 98:4–7; 134:5–6).
The Prophet Joseph Smith taught that “happiness is the object and design of our existence; and will be the end thereof, if we pursue the path that leads to it; and this path is virtue, uprightness, faithfulness, holiness, and keeping all the commandments of God” (Teachings, pp. 255–56). President Brigham Young reaffirmed this teaching when he said, “Great peace have they who love the law of the Lord and abide in his commandments” (Discourses of Brigham Young, p. 223).
The Doctrine and Covenants teaches that the Latter-day Saints have a particular responsibility to live their lives according to the principles of righteousness, for they live in the dispensation of the fulness of times in which God has restored and brought together the keys, power, and knowledge of all dispensations (see D&C 27:12–13; 128:18). “Every key, power, and authority ever dispensed from heaven to men on earth, which is necessary for their eternal salvation, has already been restored in this dispensation” (McConkie, Mormon Doctrine, p. 200). The Latter-day Saints are the recipients of those great blessings, and the Lord has said that where “much is given much is required” (D&C 82:3).
Elder George Albert Smith explained the nature of the responsibility that falls on the Latter-day Saints as a result of what they have been given: “We will not be judged as our brothers and sisters of the world are judged, but according to the greater opportunities placed in our keeping. We will be among those who have received the word of the Lord, who have heard His sayings, and if we do them it will be to us eternal life, but if we fail condemnation will result.” (In Conference Report, Oct. 1906, p. 47.)
The psalmist wrote, “O how love I thy law!” (Psalm 119:97). Is that a feeling you share, or do you sometimes feel resentful toward the laws of God? One of Satan’s most successful lies is that the commandments of God are restrictive and limiting. “If you would really be free,” he urges, “cut yourself loose from such restraints. Be free! Be independent!” The deception lies in denying the eternal principle that only obedience to law secures the blessings guaranteed by law (see D&C 130:20–21). Disobedience to law necessitates penalties, which are ordained by a loving Father to purge the souls of His children of what hinders their progression. When individuals are so purged, they can obtain as much happiness as they are willing to live for, according to the law they become capable of living (see D&C 88:21–24).
God’s word is law, and, like the rod of iron in Lehi’s dream (1 Nephi 8:4–35; 11:25), it is an anchor in a world of darkness. By clinging to it we are saved from misery and woe and can obtain all good things, the greatest of which is eternal life. Jesus taught, “If ye continue in my word, then are ye my disciples indeed; and ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free” (John 8:31–32).
Of the freedom that comes from obedience, Elder Boyd K. Packer said: “Obedience—that which God will never take by force—he will accept when freely given. And he will then return to you freedom that you can hardly dream of—the freedom to feel and to know, the freedom to do, and the freedom to be, at least a thousandfold more than we offer him. …
“… Obedience is a key to agency, … obedience is the doorway to freedom.” (Obedience, Brigham Young University Speeches of the Year [Provo, 7 Dec. 1971], pp. 4, 6.)
The Savior taught the relationship between obedience and true freedom (see John 8:31–32). That process could be diagrammed as follows:
If we continue in His word (obedience)
we become disciples
who are given the truth
which makes us free
Truth is the key to freedom, discipleship is the key to truth, and obedience is the key to discipleship.
Elder Spencer W. Kimball said of those who scoff at this truth:
“To obey! To hearken! What a difficult requirement! Often we hear: ‘Nobody can tell me what clothes to wear, what I shall eat or drink. No one can outline my Sabbaths, appropriate my earnings, nor in any way limit my personal freedoms! I do as I please! I give no blind obedience!
“Blind obedience! How little they understand! …
“When men speak of all faith and all obedience as blind, are they not covering their own weaknesses? Are they not seeking an alibi to justify their own failure to hearken?
“A man obeys strictly the income tax law and pays fully and before due date his property taxes but justifies himself in disregarding the law of the Sabbath or the payment of tithes on time, if at all. In the one case he may suffer only deprivation of freedom or resources or lose his home or personal property, but in the other he opens doors to the loss of a soul. The spiritual as truly brings penalties as the temporal, the principal difference is the swiftness of punishment, the Lord being so long-suffering.
“One would hardly call the first blind obedience, yet he sometimes regards the spiritual commands as such.
“Is it blind obedience when the student pays his tuition, reads his text assignments, attends classes, and thus qualifies for his eventual degrees? Perhaps he himself might set different and easier standards for graduation, but he obeys every requirement of the catalog whether or not he understands its total implication.
“Is it blind obedience when one regards the sign ‘High Voltage—Keep Away’ or is it the obedience of faith in the judgment of experts who know the hazard?
“Is it blind obedience when the air traveler fastens his seat belt as that sign flashes or is it confidence in the experience and wisdom of those who know more of hazards and dangers?
“Is it blind obedience when the little child gleefully jumps from the table into the strong arms of its smiling father, or is this implicit trust in a loving parent who feels sure of his catch and who loves the child better than life itself?
“Is it blind obedience when an afflicted one takes vile-tasting medicine prescribed by his physician or yields his own precious body to the scalpel of the surgeon or is this the obedience of faith in one in whom confidence may safely be imposed? …
“Is it then blind obedience when we, with our limited vision, elementary knowledge, selfish desires, ulterior motives, and carnal urges, accept and follow the guidance and obey the commands of our loving Father who begot us, created a world for us, loves us, and has planned a constructive program for us, wholly without ulterior motive, whose greatest joy and glory is to ‘bring to pass the immortality and eternal life’ of all his children?” (In Conference Report, Oct. 1954, pp. 51–53.)
(G-7) Summary
All scriptures teach the value of law and the blessings that derive from obedience to it, but especially in the Doctrine and Covenants are the Saints taught the nature, purpose, and source of law. Knowing that in the last days law would come under attack from the world, the Lord revealed the benefits of law. He taught that through obedience to His laws His children are freed from sin, weakness, darkness, and despair; they obtain power over all their enemies and gain power to lay hold of every righteous desire of their hearts. They become free of every encumbrance that holds them back or binds them down. Thus, having become free and independent, and having the ability to live in accordance to all of God’s laws, the obedient children of God have the powers of the universe at their disposal to use in obtaining a fulness of joy, which will endure forever and ever. |
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