#it's been on my desktop blog for weeks | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ayeforscotland · 3 months ago

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What is Dataflow? Part 3: Doing the Practical

Apologies for the delay in getting this next section up - past few weeks have been super busy and then, hilariously, I was ill last week.

Read Part 1 here.

Read Part 2 here.

In Part 2 I wrote about how important diagrams have been throughout history. Understanding the 'big picture' has been important for every triumph of engineering. From bridges to skyscrapers to oil rigs and wind turbines, all of these have had diagrams backed by international standards which enabled them to be built.

The digital world hasn't quite managed that yet. In the other posts I've tried to drill home the point that modern digital businesses are often extremely siloed, communication and documentation isn't there and there is a lack of a common language between 'Business' and 'IT'.

This lack of understanding means organisations do not understand how data flows through their business and their supply chain.

It's the understanding of dataflow that's important here because it enables organisations to focus on optimising, securing and maintaining flows across an organisation rather than siloed teams patching things up where they can and not understand the upstream and downstream impact on the business.

Method and Layers

Going to preface this by saying that this may come across as complete common sense, and to some extent you'll be completely correct!

This is an example of how to create a very basic dataflow. But I will first start with understanding all of the People, Processes and Technology that I use to post on Tumblr.

So I start with six layers:

Ownership

Business Process

Application

System

Hardware

Infrastructure

What is important to remember here is that you do not have to be a specialist in every single layer.

A Business Analyst will feel much more at home in the Business Process Layer, while an Infrastructure Manager will be much more knowledgeable about the Infrastructure layer.

The important thing is that this Business & IT Diagram allows them to communicate more efficiently.

Let's Build a Dataflow!

In this example - There's an 'AyeforScotland' Element (the rectangle!) at the top. I'm the owner of everything below that element. The black lines are 'connections' representing the connectivity between the different elements.

Following the example, I'm responsible for' managing my blog 'Blog Management' which breaks down into smaller processes: Draft posts, schedule posts, answer anon abuse, and reblog shitposts.

Coming down to the Application Layer (red) - You can see that I draft and schedule posts using Tumblr Desktop and I'm using Firefox Web Browser for that.

But for answering anon abuse and reblogging shitposts, I'm using the Tumblr App.

In the Systems layer you can see I'm using Windows 11 on my PC (Hardware) and I'm using iOS on my iPhone.

Both my PC and iPhone connect to my BT Router.

And that's it for this Business & IT Diagram. I've shown clearly how I'm responsible for the processes and how I use the technology to perform those processes. I don't necessarily need to show everything on a single diagram because it would lose clarity.

This next Business & IT Diagram is much smaller, and establishes the relationships and dependencies on Tumblr to provide the service. And that's because we're complying with the laws and rules of a methodology.

In this diagram (probably need to zoom in to see it) I'm at the top left as 'AyeforScotland' and my 'BT Router' is spatially below me. Following the rules and laws of the method, that maintains the relationship that I have with the BT Router, I own it.

But I don't own the small 'Internet' that's next to it horizontally. I've simplified the concept of the internet for this example.

There's also two owners - 'Automattic' which owns and operates 'Tumblr' below it, with Tumblr being responsible for the 'Provision of Tumblr Services'.

Now naturally 'provision of Tumblr services' will break out into loads of sub-processes. Tumblr could map out their entire organisation (and if they need a hand, they can DM me!) But for this dataflow it's not really required.

Now both diagrams above are not dataflows. But close your eyes for a second and you can visualise what they are.

But because we've created our two diagrams, we understand the connectivity and using the software we can create the dataflow.

Now again, this is very basic. But when you put things into a dataflow context, you can put this down in front of a wide range of people from different business disciplines and they can start to optimise how the business works.

Here's a much larger Dataflow example, that you won't be able to read because it exceeds A0 printing size, but it should convey the scale.

If any of the connections or elements fail along this dataflow - The dataflow stops.

This costs organisations time and/or money.

So understanding dataflows allows IT people to articulate to business people "Hi boss, if this server goes down it will bring down this dataflow and cost the business $10,000 an hour" - Suddenly it's in a language they understand.

It helps with strategic decision-making, it helps with communication, it helps document how things *actually* work as opposed to how people think they work, and once you switch to thinking in terms of 'dataflow' it's hard to stop.

Conclusion

I can't wait to answer all the questions on the back of this.

Also one area I didn't go into is that each of the elements (rectangles) can also hold data (Financial data, Technical Specs, Risk & Cybersecurity metrics, Governance documentation etc).

It's also really easy to get started with it. You can start in any of the layers based on your area of work.

#ayeforscotland #dataflow #digital engineering #diagrams #crowdstrike

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izicodes · 3 months ago

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Hi, Hello! It’s me, Izzy and I am back from a very long break!

For those who don’t know who I am and just saw my post, I’m Isabelle but Izzy for short (and even shorter, Izi)! I run a Codeblr blog which I post about anything coding! I try to strictly only talk about coding, programming and computer science, but frankly, I ramble on about something else eventually! Hope you’re doing well!

Now, I know I said I wouldn't come back, but that was because I suddenly became stuck on what to post about and wanted to give myself a break and figure out how to do things on my blog and my online presence in general!

So, in summary, I am back from my break very inspired and eager to help more people get into programming / get better at programming! I will go on to talk about exactly what I have been doing during my break later on in this post, but wanted to say thank you to everyone who messaged me throughout the months and saw how I was! Very thought and extra blessings from God to you, please!

Working at my new-but-not-so-new job!

Yes! So, obviously, as a 21st Century girlie, I am working! Still at the music company that I started back in January! Now that I am 8 months into the job, I feel now I am fully immersed in the job and the projects and not feeling like an outsider! I went on multiple out-the-office events with the whole company and it was nice! Some I couldn’t attend because of religious reasons, but I still had fun! I got to meet a lot more girlies at my office that I don’t usually talk to (because I’m still the only girl in the frontend engineering team but there is a backend girlie but we don’t work close together so… distance)! Cheatingly, I am always ticking the box of “code every day”! However, work has made me do more UI/UX designing + frontend programming websites which I love! Always wanted to be both and not just one or the other! We are allowed to have 2 job titles, remember? (But make sure the salary is in accordance, of course, ~)

Learning new technologies! (for fun, obviously)

By “for fun” I mean personal reasons, the technologies I learnt on a whim were not for work but because I needed to learn them for personal projects I wanted to learn! I stress again; it’s more fun to learn something because you want to and not because you have to! So, I have been learning how to create desktop applications using ElectronJS and ReactJS (React has become my best friend!). Me now compared to me when I started my break is 10x smarter I feel like! My brain has definitely expanded somewhere…!

Latest project?!

Inspired by study productivity apps and wanting to track my Korean language progress, I am making a desktop application called ‘eStudySpace’! It would be my own personal app, but I want to see if I can actually pull something like this off! Right now I have not coded anything because I want to work on the design aspect first (which is smarter and a time saver in the future), so I have been on Figma for the last 2 weeks coming up with designs!

(It looks bad, I know this is like idea no.3287368 ugh...)

Miscs

I have been learning Korean for 4 months now.

I have plans to move to a South-Eastern country, The Philippines? Singapore? Unsure!

I do have plans to switch to a new career but that’s more like 5 years into the future! But right now, I’m happy where I am at!

#xc: update #coding #studyblr #programming #codeblr #studying #comp sci #progblr #programmer

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day6source · 2 months ago

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hello my loves!!!!!!!!!!! long time no talk!! things have been...busy. but! we persevere (with band aid playing on repeat). [youtuber voice] let's get into it!

first things first: band aid! so good! the stages were so fun! if you missed out on anything, there's a masterpost riiiiiiight HERE of all the content minus this week's upcoming beyondlive concert of course.

second: the blog got a little face lift! i wasn't super feeling the theme-age, so a refresh was in order! it's been this way for a while, but thought in case you hadn't looked, i'd mention it. and it goes for both the desktop and mobile themes!

third: on a similar note...we hit 400 followers! oh my god! holy hell! that is so many people for this dead little website! i'm so glad to have you all here, and i honestly need to get back on my grind about interacting with you guys like this. to celebrate (or to begin to, at least)....

fourth: i made a survey! i want to get to know you guys and get some ideas on how you're feeling about the blog! you can answer it HERE, and don't worry, it's 100% anonymous, so answer how you'd like! i'll reblog this post to keep it in rotation so you all can see it hopefully throughout the next week.

fifth: a bit of a warning, i'm on an interim laptop, so i'm not entirely sure on if i'll be able to record the show this weekend (seems like it'll be okay, but just in case). there will be a link up regardless, so don't even worry! but i just wanted you guys to have the heads up.

and...that's all! summer is winding down and it's almost fall (and a couple weeks until my birthday hehe)! i hope you've all been doing well and taking care of yourselves. i love you all so much, and thank you for being here, i can never say it enough. remember to drink water and eat well, and stay healthy and happy. love, tay 💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

#[admin post]

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yourgentlegirlfriend · 2 years ago

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HIHIHIIHI!!! i luv luv LUVVVV your writing!! you're one of my favorite writers on this app fidhuhgseuhsdfsifj ><

may i request some fluff (or smut; whichever you prefer!) with leon wherein the reader is an artist, and she has this lil notebook filled to the brim with sketches (whether that be normal sketches or... spicy ones) of leon but she hasn't shown leon the notebook BUT he ends up finding it and teasing her??

AND (if you DO write it as smut) WHAT IF READER DREW SOME SKETCHES OF SEX POSITIONS AND LEON USES THOSE POSITIONS WHE THEY HAVE SEX!?!??!?!?!? I'M GOING CRAZY OVER THIS THOUGHT RN DJFHSIDFUHIU

keep up the good work with all the writing you do!! you're an amazing writer, and i hope you have a great day :>

Hello my angels!! Thank you guys again for 400 followers im forever grateful for you guys. i was so fond of this little plot i HAD to write but it’s def not my best. Happy monday <3

DISCLAIMER: This is an 18+ blog! If you are underaged or don’t have an age indicator in your bio, please don’t interact!

AFAB Artistic reader x Pre Re4 Leon

Warnings: Leon’s a little tease. Mentions of ripping clothing, couch sex, Leon’s pretty soft in this :)

Word count: 3,050

Meeting Leon was just a lucky coincidence, almost four years ago now. The worst job you swore you’d ever had, but that changed once you met Leon. Instead of typing the files in the computer, your foot tapped against the marble flooring.

“That’s really good.. Do you draw often?”

You slammed your notebook shut, scared your boss had caught you again. Your eyes glanced up to the man peering over the desk, a tight gray t-shirt on and a pair of cargo pants.

“So sorry, sir. Are you here for training?”

Your fingers pressed against the keys of your desktop as you stared up at him, waiting for an answer. He looked like his ego had been beaten down when you didn’t reply to him, nodding his head at you.

“Yeah, um, Kennedy, Leon.”

You wrote his name down on the paper, handing him the small slip with a grin.

———-

She was new, I think. Her hair was pulled into that pretty bun, dazed as ever. Pretty pencil skirt and an off-white long sleeve. Beautiful handwriting, too, Leon’s thumb brushing over the slip in his hand, pulling out his wallet to shove the slip inside.

The next day he hoped you’d be sitting there, looking bored out of your mind. His arm pushed against the heavy glass door; he couldn’t help but smile seeing you at your desk. Why is he smiling?

“Busy day?”

Leon couldn't help but smile as you jumped in your seat, slamming the notebook shut- again. Your little smile tugged at your glossed lips as you held at the pen, scribbling his name.

“Goodbye, Leon.”

Your teasing voice made the hairs on the back of his neck stand. He grabbed the red slip in your hand, dragging the bag off your desk as he walked down the hall again.

——————

For days, even weeks after. Leon would always ensure he showed up early, fascinated by your presence and the way you scribbled his name on the notepad on your desk when he would say something to make you blush.

“Hey, so… remember that sushi restaurant I told you about?”

Leon’s first words as he walks up to the desk, placing his bag on your file as you roll your eyes, nodding up at him as you type something into the computer.

“What about it?”

You ask as you push your rolling chair back, waiting by the printer as it turns on. Your head leans back as you look at him. He looked handsome as ever today. His training was working, that’s for sure, his shoulders being so much broader and his arms becoming so defined with muscle.

“Well, today is my last day of training. Did you want to go out with me as a celebration?”

It wasn’t for celebration; Leon just finally had an excuse to ask you out. Spending almost three months talking to you and getting to know you, yet he has never asked you to dinner. Your face lit up as you rolled back to the computer, stapling the papers together and using it as an excuse to cover the bright red that invaded your cheeks.

“Sure- what time?”

You asked up to him, clearing your throat as your hand rubbed your cheek to make it seem like you weren’t blushing. Cute, Leon thought as his tongue brushed over his bottom lip.

“Seven? I can pick you up.”

Even offering to pick you up? Your heart was in your throat as you nodded shyly, smiling as you wrote your address on a sticky note and handed it to him.

“I’ll be ready.”

You handed him his pass along with the sticky note of your address, his eyes reading over the number over and over before he smiled at you, tapping your desk a few times and walking down the hall as he does every single day.

———-

Why so shaky? The knocking on your door echoed through your living room, your hands brushing through your hair again as you did a small circle in your mirror.

You thanked god you wore heels, quickly glancing through the peephole to see Leon. He made your heart jump just by standing there. You swore he looked you up and down when you opened the door- but this was one-sided. You were so in love with him. Your coworkers make fun of you when you’re on your break, eyes following him from the expansive open training rooms.

Obsession was a strong word- but even you could admit it was getting to the point of obsession. You hoped after he left the facility, you wouldn’t have to see him again, especially since it was his last day, but he just had to ask you to dinner, didn’t he?

“Are you ready?”

Leon asked as he looked around your apartment, scanning all the books on your shelf. You wanted to say yes, but your hand reached up, your eyebrows frowning as you noticed you weren’t wearing the necklace your brother had gotten you.

“Give me a few minutes, and I’ll be back.”

He couldn’t help but watch you walk down your hallway, fingers tapping at your sides like at work. Snoopy, maybe. His eyes darted down to the notebook on your coffee table. It’s the one you always have on your desk. Light purple with random stickers all over the front and back. His fingers traced over where your name was carved before he looked down to the hall to check if he was clear to look through it. The first few pages are drawings of the statues at work, the plants, yourself, and your glossy lips. His eyebrows frowned at the empty pages, going on for almost five before he finally saw it. His name was written in your pretty cursive; below was the soft sketch of his face, his handsome smile, and the small indent in his chin. Sketch after sketch of him leaning over your desk with the cheekiest smile.

The next page sketches his lips, his tongue darting out slightly through the corner in one and pressed together in another. Sketches of the way his eyes sparkle next to them.

His slender fingers traced the page looking at the sketches of his arms, some with his knife in his hand, some just holding a water bottle. He peeped his head down the corner of the hallway again, hearing the echo of your voice on the phone. His fingers moved before his eyes as he flipped the page, his cheeks flushing a deep red at the sketches of his hands rubbing up your waist. Now he was paying attention, graphics of his fingers in your mouth, your legs thrown over his shoulders, his head thrown back, and his Adam’s apple more than prominent.

“Leon?”

You stuttered, your heart pounding against your chest. Your breath feels so caught in your throat, your eyes staring at his hands holding the spine of your notebook. You blink into reality, snatching the notebook from him as you firmly have it against your chest.

“Why.. would you go through my things..”

You laughed, embarrassed, as Leon stared at you. His presence was now super overwhelming. He just.. stared at you. Great, now he hates me? He thinks I’m so weird…

“Why’d you just leave it out?”

What? Jesus fucking Christ, what?

“It’s my apartment; what do you mean..”

You laugh bitterly as you push the notebook onto your shelf, your hands slightly shaking.

“I didn’t draw any of that. I left it at work for a few days, so maybe it was stolen or something.”

There we go. Perfect excuse. Leon’s feet shuffled till he was standing beside you, pulling the notebook off the shelf next to you.

“Alright, that’s understandable. If they aren’t yours, you wouldn’t mind me looking through them again.”

Your face flooded with embarrassment. Your back turned to him as your eyes squeezed shut at the sound of him flipping through the pages.

Leon felt his pants grow tighter at the sketch of your pretty folds wrapped around his cock, then the illustrations of just your pussy made his cock grow painfully harder, your eyes shifting between the notebook and the bookshelf. There were pages after pages of just Leon and you, sometimes just Leon, small notes here and there. The last page is a sketch of the two of you hugging and a small note

“Seven, Leon’s sushi place”

Leon, yet again, closed the notebook, laying it on the shelf as you held your arms, sighing at his silence. His hand rubbed your arm softly, taking your hand in his. He rocked behind you, resting his cheek on the side of your head.

“Cmon’ let’s go eat.”

———-

The drive back to your apartment was so silent. Your head spun as you looked out the window, admiring the pretty night sky. Leon’s handheld at your thigh, his thumb rubbing small circles on your smooth skin. Biting at your nails nervously, your head turns to Leon. Why did he have to be so handsome? Hand gripping the steering wheel, hair perfectly rested against his cheek. The white button-down he wore fit him so perfectly. He believed you, right? You felt guilt in your heart, thinking about how you sat at your desk, legs crossed so close together at the thought of Leon fucking you stupid. It’s not everyday you meet a man like him. You craved him, but you would never tell him that. Leon’s car stopped, your daydreaming stopping as he pulled his keys and shoved them in his pocket. What a gentleman, he opens your door for you, holding his hand out. Your hand grabbed at his as you stepped out, holding your purse to your side as you whispered a small thank you to him as you reached for your keys.

The two of you stopped in front of your door, your heart starting to ache at the thought of never seeing him at work again, all the conversations you guys have had. The silence was uncomfortable now; you looked up at Leon with a slight frown before you reached up and brought him in for a tight hug, a sigh of relief leaving your lips as he hugged you back.

“I’m going to miss seeing you every day.”

You laugh into his shoulder. He laughs back in response as he pulls away from the hug, your hand reaching to unlock your door as he watches you. You step inside your dark apartment, looking at him from the door with a gentle smile still on your face.

“I’ll call you, I promise.”

Leon speaks as he watches you stand against the door frame.

“Bye.”

“Bye, Leon.”

The door slams. Why are you going to cry? Is it because he thought you were a massive creep? You held onto the wall as you kicked off your heels, sighing in frustration as you threw your purse to the ground. Your body jumped at the pounding at the door. Though you were taught better, you swung it open. Leon stood his hands on his hips, staring at the ground.

“Le-“

Leon pushed his way into your apartment, his perfect hands cradling your face as he smashed his lips into yours. Your feet struggled to keep up with him moving you back into your living room. Where did this come from? His hands hungrily gripped at your hips, your thighs hitting the arm of your couch. Leon's head dipped down your neck, pressing his tongue to the softness of your skin.

“Leon, wait..”

Your eyes flutter open as you reach down, grabbing his face. Leon stared up at you, his breathing labored.

“What happened?”

Your thumb rubbed across his cheek as he stood, pulling you in closer to him.

“You think I don’t want you? Do you know how hard it was not to bend you over this couch after flipping through that notebook?”

He grumbled as he turned you around, pressing his palm up your back as he bent you against the arm of your sofa. Your back arched in response as you looked back at him with red cheeks.

“Every word I've ever said to you makes you blush like that, you know.”

He’s right. But it’s hard not to blush when he compliments your every detail. Leon’s fingers dragged the zipper down your back, his lips following. So much softer than you had imagined. He stood again, tugging at your sleeves, smiling at your bare back. You gasped as you heard a slight tearing, your head flying back to see Leon had ripped your dress. Leon chuckled as the fabric of your dress dropped to the ground, his hands brushing over your hips.

“I’ve always loved watching you grab papers, your hips swaying.”

Leon smirks against your shoulder, his lips pressing against your neck again, your breathing shaky as he sucks at your skin. His pretty lips leave red patches all over your skin that will later be small purple markings that’ll be so prominent. Leon lifts himself, grabbing you to lie on your sofa, smiling down at you as his fingers work at unbuttoning his shirt.

It all felt like a dream, Leon’s shirt dropping to your floor as he tugged his dress pants down his legs. Hypnotized by him, the way his arms flex when he comes to hover over you, his hands holding at your thighs as he drags you further down the couch, his lips pressing against yours again. Leon’s lips ghosted over your skin as he stared at you through hooded eyes. Your eyes roll slightly when his fingers press over your clothed clit, rubbing small circles into you as he licks over your chest, leaving his marks on you there too. Your hips buck into his hand, a laugh coming from his lips as he pulls back, staring down at you as he pushes your panties aside, his fingers slipping into you with ease. Your mouth hangs open slightly as you stare at him.

“So wet.. all for me?”

Leon’s voice was so husky, so different than it usually was; you couldn’t help but let out a moan as his fingers dragged over your walls, your body lifting onto your shoulder as you looked down, your hips tilting up slightly to watch his fingers push in and out of you. The feeling was intoxicating, your head throwing back as he used his other hand to rub at your clit.

“You like watching? Watching how greedy this little pussy is..”

Leon couldn’t help but moan himself as you tightened around his fingers, his eyes staring down at you, sucking in his fingers. He groans as he tugs his boxers down, a whine leaving your lips at the feeling of his fingers no longer filling you. His hands grab at the back of your knees, holding them with one of his larger hands as his other hand grabs ahold of his cock, which was painfully hard. His lips parted slightly as he pressed himself into you, his grip around your leg tightening at the feeling of you squeezing him. He was so thick, so much bigger than what you could handle, a whimper leaving your lips as he pushed himself into you more. His hand drops your legs resting against his waist as he leans over you, grabbing at your jaw to pull you into a sloppy kiss, his tongue pressing into your bottom lip as he fully bottoms himself into you, causing you to gasp into his mouth. Leon let out a soft whimper as he leaned up, holding at your thighs as he rocked into you. You looked so beautiful finally lying below him; he had waited for this too fucking long.

“You look so fucking beautiful taking me like this..”

Leon groans down at you as your hands reach for his shoulders, pulling him back down to press his chest against yours as his speed increases. His face comforts your shoulder as your hands grab at his back, your nails scraping at his back as he lifts your hips, the new angle making him hit that perfect spot.

“I- Leon!”

Leon nodded his head as he looked down at you, forehead glistening with his sweat and his hair sticking to his skin.

“I know, baby, I know.”

He knew because you were gripping him so tightly, he was fighting his hardest not to let himself go inside of you, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he watched you squirm beneath him, warmth flooding your stomach and your breaths increasing as he pushed his palm into your stomach. Random babbles leave your lips as your arm comes up, covering your face as you cum around him, your walls fluttering against him, causing a loud groan to escape his lips as he pulls himself out of you, moving your hand from your stomach as his cum splatters all over your soft skin.

You two stare at each other, catching your breath. His arms reach forward, moving your arm from your flushed face.

“There you are.”

He mumbles as he kisses you softly, standing up and reaching down to pull up his boxers. He’s gone for almost two minutes, yet you’re still lying on the couch, eyes studying the ceiling.

“You organize your laundry room weirdly.”

Leon’s voice makes you tilt your head, watching him walk back into the living room. He leans over, wiping your stomach with the small rag in his hand, your lips tugging into a smile as you reach forward, touching his face. He peers down at you, smiling back as he helps you sit up, his fingers pushing your hair behind your shoulders.

“You want a shower?”

He asks softly as he sits beside you and wraps his arm around you as you lean your head against his shoulder.

“I just want to be with you.”

You mumble, your eyes closing as you wrap your arms around his waist.

“I’m not leaving anytime soon; I think you’re stuck with me.”

Leon speaks as he lifts your chin, kissing your forehead softly before he stands up, lifting you over his shoulder, causing a loud squeal to leave your lips as he taps the skin of your thighs with a smile.

“Let’s shower. Then you can show me more drawings, yeah?”

#leon kennedy #resident evil #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader #yourgentlegf #re4 x reader #re4 leon #self insert smut

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fdelopera · 10 days ago

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Welcome to the 28th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper 115 yeas ago.

In today’s installment, we have Part II of Chapter 11, “L’enveloppe magique” (“The Magic Envelope”).

This section was first printed on Thursday, 4 November, 1909.

Gaston Leroux cut “The Magic Envelope” from his novel when he prepared the First Edition for publication.

In January of 2014, I published my translation of this chapter. Mine was the first English translation of this chapter to be published.

You can read my translation of “The Magic Envelope” on my blog here.

The text of this section starts at “All the same, Moncharmin was still looking at Richard in a way that the latter did not like at all,” and goes to “'Not on your life!’ cried Gabriel.”

TRANSLATION:

All the same, Moncharmin was still looking at Richard in a way that the latter did not like at all. It was easy to see that Moncharmin was suspicious of Richard, or at least did not trust him. Richard was infuriated.

Moncharmin explained himself.

“My dear fellow, who was it that spoke inside the box, if it wasn’t you?”

Richard raised his fist in rage but stopped mid-gesture. At the moment when he was going to slam his fist down on the desktop, he heard three sharp little knocks coming from inside the desk; his hand remained suspended in the air. The two Managers looked at each other.

“Did you hear that?” asked Richard in an uncertain voice.

“Yes!” said Moncharmin, who had become slightly pale…

They heard it again… They thought about the three sharp little knocks of which Mother Giry had told them.

Indeed, this is what they had clearly heard… Distinctly heard … from inside the desk … for there was no one under the desk…

But there was something on top!… A large envelope on which someone had inscribed an address in red ink. And it seemed to them that the three sharp little knocks had been rapped out for the express purpose of drawing their attention to that envelope.

Richard, who, however much he claimed to the contrary, was not completely devoid of superstition, cautiously reached out a hand towards the envelope, as if he feared that his touch might suddenly set it on fire.

Finally, he picked it up without further incident. It felt light in his hands, which were quick to open it after he and Moncharmin — who was leaning over his shoulder — read the address:

“For MM. the Managers of the Opera.”

“My dear friends,” said the letter, “it was I who spoke inside the box. I was there. If you did not see me, it is because I am slightly mistrustful of the police, who are always quick to make mistakes; although I had made all the necessary arrangements, as you can now deduce, so that if you had entertained the notion of informing them, they would have arrested both of you first, on your own instructions: that, you will admit, would have been quite entertaining… Let this prospect, my dear friends, be a lesson that you always bear in mind in the unlikely case that you should consider involving an outside force in our business.

“Here is how you shall handle the 20,000 francs.

“You shall slip twenty notes of one thousand francs each into an envelope that you shall find here enclosed. You shall seal this envelope and deliver it to Mme Giry one half hour before the next performance; she will do what is necessary. Cordially yours. P. of the O.”

Inside the envelope they had just opened, they indeed found another envelope that was exactly the same, folded in half, which bore the inscription in red ink: “For Monsieur P. of the O. Private.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The next evening, one half hour before the curtain rose, an inspector came to see Mme Giry, who was already at her box attendant’s post, and requested that she report immediately to the office of M. Firmin Richard.

The good woman did not seem at all surprised by this message and momentarily left her duties, which consisted of awaiting the arrival of the first operagoers. She quickly went down to the season subscribers’ entrance, crossed the stage, and climbed the staircase. There she encountered her daughter, Meg, on a landing, who was in the midst of playing a prank on a fireman. Mme Giry gave her a slap on each cheek, and then went to knock on the Manager’s door.

“Enter!”

She did not seem to notice that the Managers were staring at her with an uncustomary urgency. She took an envelope, rather heavily laden, that they held out to her. She read the address, and since she was carrying the basket from which she rarely parted, she placed the envelope inside.

“No doubt you know what this means?” asked Moncharmin.

“Of course, Monsieur Manager! It’s not magic! It’s a letter for the Phantom.”

“And you are going to deliver it to him yourself?”

“So it seems. What would you have me do with it?”

“You are going to deliver it to him by hand?”

“Monsieur, I’ve never seen the Phantom’s hands, and I couldn’t tell you whether he has any…”

“But how do you do it?”

“I put it by his seat; it’s as simple as that!… And apparently, he comes to get the envelope. That has to be the way it happens…”

“Has it been long that you have served as his letter-box?”

“The first time that it happened was during the time of Debienne and Poligny, a few days before their departure… M. Poligny himself handed me a letter, but much thinner than this … and I did more or less what I am going to do with this one… Goodbye, Monsieur! With all due respect, I’m on my way… The patrons ought to be arriving, and everyone must earn a living, don’t you agree?”

Richard and Moncharmin did not stop her from leaving. They had not taken their eyes off of Mother Giry or her basket. No sooner had she closed the door than she was followed by Mercier, the Administrator. The box attendant’s every movement was carefully monitored. Her comportment was quite natural and she did not so much as touch her basket until she arrived at Box 5. There she calmly opened her basket and withdrew the precious letter. She left the basket on a stool and entered the box with the letter, which she placed on the shelf by the armrest.

Meanwhile, Mercier in turn took the liberty of opening the basket and found that it contained nothing more than a handkerchief of the finest lace monogrammed with the interwoven letters, “P.O.,”[4] a bunch of keys, a box of matches, twelve sous, and an old edition of the Petit Journal, folded to the section of the serialized novel: The Vampire’s Daughter.[5]

As for Moncharmin and Richard, they both armed themselves with opera glasses and stationed themselves in separate boxes in the upper tier so that they could not be seen, although the letter did not for an instant leave their dual patrolling gaze. In this way, they spent the duration of the performance, both the acts and the entr’actes.

They did not see anything occur inside the box, and yet still they watched the envelope on the little shelf by the armrest. They made arrangements so that after the performance was over, they would convene together with Mercier in Box 5, without interrupting their surveillance on the envelope for even a moment.

Then the two Managers, standing before Mercier, who understood nothing of the events that were transpiring, for he had followed his instructions without being briefed on the details of the affair, opened the envelope with a smile. They believed that the Phantom, who was surely possessed of a practical mind, must have sensed himself being watched and had not dared to touch the envelope. Indeed, they found the 20,000 francs still inside. And so, with a slightly smug air, they returned to their management.

But as they arrived in Richard’s office, they discovered that, sitting there on the desk, in the same location as before, was an identical envelope, which contained a “brief note” thusly worded:

“Candles and chandeliers![6] Brevity is the soul of wit; the Bank of Saint Farce[7] is not legal tender in my Empire. In the future, try to be a bit more serious, or I shall wax wroth once again. Candles and chandeliers!

“Your servant,

“P. of the O.”

It was no longer a matter of “friendly regards.” Needless to say, the Phantom was furious. But how had he known that in place of real banknotes, the Managers had slipped fake notes into the envelope, since it had remained unopened and had not been touched? And as for this latest threat — candles and chandeliers! — how had it arrived in Richard’s office, since after the last letter, Richard, recalling a bit late the recommendation given to them by the departing Managers, had installed safety locks on the doors of his office to which he alone had the keys?

I regret that I must here use an expression which is in no way recommended by the dictionary of the Academy, but no other word would be able to convey with detail and yet with restraint the state of mind of one of the Managers: Firmin Richard was fuming! No exclamations, no curses, no angry gestures. But in his breathless silence, he seemed to radiate fury.

And what infuriated him more than anything, even more perhaps than the absurd business of P. of the O., was Moncharmin’s eye, that eye which regarded him, Richard, with clear malicious irony.

For that ironic look could only come from two things: either Moncharmin imagined that P. of the O. was “making sport” of Richard in particular, or Moncharmin had begun once again to suspect his colleague! And this latter thought crowned Richard’s misery. Oh, to be the pawn, and yet to be thought the mastermind!

Suddenly, he cried: “Mercier! Go get me Gabriel!”

Gabriel, the chorus master, was Richard’s friend. He had Richard’s confidence, and frequently, when Richard was in trouble, he found excellent council in Gabriel. When Mercier had returned with Gabriel, Richard asked them both to sit down. Then, having ensured that no one could hear what would be spoken between the four men, having ordered Rémy, his secretary, who was keeping watch in the adjacent room, to prevent anyone from entering the office, he recounted from the beginning the details of that strange affair. Gabriel and Mercier listened in perfect silence.

When Richard had finished, Gabriel stood up and said: “You must put the 20,000 francs in the envelope, but the real 20,000.”

“That’s also my opinion,” agreed Mercier, and he added: “And we must inform the Commissary of Police!”

“Not on your life!” cried Gabriel.

NOTES:

[4] The letters monogrammed on this handkerchief are “F.O.” in the French, and it is the translator’s theory that this is short for Fantôme [de l’] Opéra. These initials have therefore been translated as “P.O.” for Phantom [of the] Opera. It is possible that the rest of the items in Mme Giry’s basket were meant to be Erik’s possessions, as well. For instance, the matches might be the implements that Erik used to write his various notes, since Leroux described that Erik’s handwriting looked like it was formed using the tips of matchsticks, presumably dipped into his signature red ink. It is also tempting to think of Erik reading a story about vampires, since there are certain aspects of his character, such as sleeping in a coffin bed, that appear to be drawn from vampire literature. It is certainly amusing that Leroux inserted this slightly self-referential element of a character reading a feuilleton within his own feuilleton. However, it remains unclear why these items were in Mme Giry’s basket. Like so many other details in Leroux’s novel, we have no definitive answers.

[5] A thorough search of Le Petit Journal, a Parisian daily newspaper similar to Le Gaulois, from 1863 to 1910 can find no feuilleton by the name of La Fille du Vampire. It is likely that this serialized novel was Leroux’s invention.

[6] This exclamatory phrase in French is “lustre et balustre,” which literally means “chandelier and baluster” (the baluster in this instance is the ornate stem of the chandelier into which the candle-bearing arms are inserted). This particular use of these words may be an expression of Leroux’s own devising, as it does not appear in contemporary books of French wordplay. That said, the words “lustre” and “balustre” frequently appear together in French grammar books as rhyming pairs, so there is likely a subtextual relationship between them. Instead of attempting an idiomatic translation, the translator has chosen a more literal translation, albeit one that captures some of the phrase’s rhyming quality, in order to retain the chandelier reference, since this gives the phrase its menace.

[7] The Bank of Saint Farce was pretend currency, similar to play money.

Click here to see the entire edition of Le Gaulois from 4 November, 1909. This link brings you to page 3 of the newspaper — Le Fantôme is at the bottom of the page in the feuilleton section. Click on the arrow buttons at the bottom of the screen to turn the pages of the newspaper, and click on the Zoom button at the bottom left to magnify the text.

#phantom of the opera #poto #gaston leroux #le fantôme de l’opéra #le gaulois #phantom translation #the magic envelope #l'enveloppe magique #lustre et balustre #15 weeks of phantom #phantom 115th anniversary

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mylovelies-docx · 1 year ago

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Sorry, I Love You - Part 8

I apologize for not posting last week. How about this longer chapter to make up for it?

Plot: You and Bucky have a good thing going - best of friends that also have more than a little chemistry between the sheets. Everything is fine until you develop feelings for the man who doesn't want a relationship. What will happen when Bucky finds out?

C/W: First day of HYDRA work, social gatherings

Word Count: 2,270

Tag List: NOW CLOSED! If you'd like to keep up with this story, please follow my blog and turn on notifications! ❤️ you :)

[Prologue][Part 1][Part 2][Part 3][Part 4][Part 5][Part 6][Part 7]

The next morning dawned bright and chilly. You only know this because you happened to pass by a window covered in frost on your way to one of the HYDRA labs within the facility.

Your first few hours on site had you running through various tests and exams to study your mental capacity and knowledge on the interest that HYDRA holds in the biology field. There was nothing shocking or unexpected that your new supervisors asked you, but the implications of what they expect from you sends shivers down your spine. You studied and memorized and read for weeks in preparation for this assignment last year, and you’re so glad that your brain retains this kind of information like a sponge – you’d have been disposed of on the spot if your background hadn’t checked out.

But now you’ve ‘officially’ joined HYDRA. The thought leaves a bad taste in your mouth, but you wash it down with the knowledge that what you’re doing is going to help the world by eliminating whatever disgusting and horrible work is being done here.

The plan is to spend as much time as it takes to gain HYDRA’s confidence in your abilities and allow you access to the higher level projects – the world-ending projects. This could take weeks. Or months. Hopefully not years? Being Bucky’s sister for that long would drive you insane.

“You,” a scientist snaps from behind their desk as you pass their open office door. You stop in your tracks and peer into the dingy office, noticing scuff marks and mysterious stains on the floor. The man’s desk has every square inch covered in files and papers. So much so that there is a noticeable curvature on the desktop, the cheap material unable to handle the amount of weight it has been subjected to over the years.

“Yes, sir?” you inquire.

He refuses to look up from his work, instead opting to dangle a set of keys from his fingers in your direction. “Go and grab the files for project 0B276HG21 in storage room C.”

Repeating the string of numbers and letters in your head, you take the keys from his outstretched hand and make your way to the storage room. There are so many rooms within the facility that you would be lost without the information your informant sent the team. But even with it, the facility has undergone changes since the last facility plans were uploaded, so you run into dead ends where there should be access doors.

You can only hope that your experience and knowledge will allow you to work your way up quickly – you don’t know how long you can stand to be a lackey. You roll your eyes at the errands you’ve had to run so far, but you know that the new person never gets given the big jobs on the first day.

And so the rest of the shift passes in the same manner and you arrive back at your and Bucky’s house with little energy and even less information.

“Don’t worry about it, doll,” Bucky reassures. “Slow and steady wins the race, right?”

“That’s such a stupid fable,” you grumble. “The hare would have won if it didn’t have such an inflated ego.”

Bucky grins at your disgruntled face before you flop your head backwards to rest. You release a sigh and relax further into the couch where you collapsed after walking in the front door, relieved to smell dinner simmering away on the stove since you arrived home later than expected and hadn’t had the opportunity to grab lunch.

You tilt your head and watch as Bucky shuffles around the kitchen. He’s long since showered after his time at the repair shop: his hair nearly dry and the strands sticking out in a way that you know he tousled it with his towel and let it finish air drying. The new shorter strands allowed for the minimal work to pay off in dividends because it was damn near impossible to remember how soft his hair used to be and not be able to run your fingers through it now.

Your fingers itch to reach out, but you grip the cushion instead. No one said that this would be easy. Well, no one has said it’d be anything because Nat’s mission has her radio silent and Wanda is busy spending time with Vis for you to complain about your one-sided love with someone who doesn’t know the feeling. You know that if they knew what was happening right now, they’d be plying you with ideas on how to survive this mission with minimal heartbreak.

“The food is done,” Bucky says as he gathers plates and utensils to set the table. “Are you coming in here or do you want me to bring you a bowl?”

Unfortunately, your best friends aren’t available to provide their wisdom, so here you are: suffering in silence with no outlet.

“I’ll be there in a second,” you respond. You unclench your fist from the couch’s fabric and stretch out your stiff fingers. Rising from your seat, you make your way into the kitchen and take a seat at the table as Bucky brings the pot over from the stove. You stare intently into the soup as Bucky ladles it into a bowl and sets it in front of you.

“Did something happen today?” he questions with a worried expression.

“You know HYDRA,” you tiredly reply. Looking up into his eyes for the first time this evening, you see the crease between his brows and mentally slap yourself. “I’m fine, Bucky. They don’t have me working on anything specific yet.”

“I know,” he says, “but just be careful with those people, okay?”

You smile up at him and nod your head, your heart squeezing in your chest.

You’re both silent through dinner with the exception of your compliments on Bucky’s cooking. It’s hard to clear the air after bringing up HYDRA and their actions, even in the vaguest way.

***

The week stretches on for an eternity, but eventually Saturday rolls around and you and Bucky prepare to meet the neighborhood.

You arrive at the restaurant right on time. Light pours from the windows and the snow on the ground glistens gold. As soon as you open the car door, you hear laughter and chatter forcing their way through the walls.

“I hate entering a party where everybody is already best friends with each other and then you’re left standing there like a loner,” you decry, already dreading the feeling of ‘otherness’ you will be experiencing in a few short moments.

“You’re not a loner,” Bucky laughs. “You make friends as easily as breathing.”

“Not true,” you counter. “I can make ‘friends’ with strangers, but it’s never anything real. I’m a spy, remember? It’s literally life or death to get people to like me.”

“Trust me, doll,” Bucky says as he looks intently at you from across the car. “People can’t help but love you.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks and you hope the light from the restaurant isn’t bright enough to reveal them to Bucky. The feelings squirming around in your stomach feel suspiciously like hope, and you can’t have that. You deflect any seriousness by laughing off Bucky’s comment.

“Tell that to all the people I’ve thrown in prison.”

Bucky calls your name with some disappointment and a slight frown on his face. You shrug your shoulders and motion towards the entrance. “It’s time to head inside. Come on.”

You walk away from him and lead the way into the building. Upon opening the door, a blast of warm, humid air hits you. The smell of beer and sweat sweeps up your nostrils, and the interior design reminds you more of a local dive bar than a restaurant. But everyone is laughing and having a good time, so you plaster a smile on your face and look around for the Gretens.

You see Christopher speaking to a short, skinny man, deep in conversation and barely acknowledging anyone else. Tessa stands in a corner surrounded by three other women, all of them laughing and having a good time. Bucky walks up behind you as you stand in the doorway and puts a hand on your shoulder.

“Divide and conquer?” he asks. You nod your head and make your way over to the group of women.

When you’re within ten feet of her, Tessa notices you. She beams at you and raises her hand to usher you closer.

“Ladies!” Tessa introduces. “Meet our newest neighbor!”

A round of introductions follows and you can’t help but admire how blatantly obvious these women are about their curiosity. Tessa seems to have already told them everything she knows about you, but they have to ask their own questions.

“And where’s that brother of yours?” one of them asks. “Tessa’s told us how handsome he is! I’ve got a daughter I’ve been trying to get out of the house for ages.”

You laugh through the twist of your guts, replying merrily, “Oh, I’m sure he’d appreciate the introduction.”

Before the woman can demand a personal introduction, Tessa interrupts when the entrance opens once again and lets in a blast of cold air.

“Petre!” She performs the same waving hand motion that brought you over earlier to the new arrival. “Come here!”

Glancing back, you see a tall man with dark hair and dark eyes making his way over to you. He stops in front of Tessa and wraps her in a quick hug.

“This is my son, Petre. Petre, this is our neighbor.”

Petre greets you warmly. “Hello, it’s nice to finally meet you. My mother hasn’t stopped talking about you since you moved in.”

You giggle when Tessa pats his arm roughly and shake his proffered hand. His skin is warm and dry, the skin on the back of his knuckles chapped from the winter weather. Tessa not-so-subtly draws the other women away from you and Petre and into another conversation, leaving you to speak with each other.

“Your mother seems to think we’d make a good pair,” you comment with a glance over at her.

“Ah, yes,” Petre says while fiddling with his shirt sleeves. “She’s been introducing me to every woman of marrying age. I think she’s afraid I’ll end up alone.”

You can’t help but laugh at his deprecating tone of voice. “We’re young – we’ve still got time.”

“Try telling her that,” he responds. “Being 30 and unmarried is one of the worst things you can be in her eyes.”

You chat with Petre between introductions for the next couple of hours. He sticks close by his mother which keeps him close to you, as Tessa demands everyone that walks by to greet you. Countless faces come and go, but there seems to be someone missing.

You turn to Tessa when the party seems to be winding down and a few people have started to leave. “Where’s your daughter?” you question.

“Kerri and Chrissie are right over there,” she nods, indicating the two young women in a cluster a few feet from you.

“Yes, I remember them from a little while ago. Where’s your other daughter? Sasha?”

At this, Tessa’s face drops and Petre looks at her worriedly. He places his arm around his mother’s shoulders and brings her into his side. “She’s not well,” Petre answers for his mother. “She has been sick for a while now.”

“Oh. Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

“It’s – it’s alright,” Tessa responds with a sorrowful smile. “She’s at home. Resting.”

“Well I hope she gets better soon,” you reply hopefully. Petre and Tessa nod tersely before steering the conversation off to something else.

It isn’t long after that when you feel Bucky sidle up next to you. He places his hand on your upper arm and pulls you closer into his side. “You ready to go?” he questions.

You hum and say your goodbyes to the people standing around you, promising to come out with Tessa to more gatherings. You and Bucky make your way back out into the cold night, the moon full and bright in the sky.

The car doors close behind you and Bucky starts the engine. You rumble along the road for a few minutes before Bucky says anything.

“Who were you talking to all night?” he asks you.

“Ah.” You sigh. “That was Tessa’s eldest son. The one she mentioned at dinner.”

“And?” he prompts.

“And…?”

“You were with him all night – what was he like? Anything seem off with him?”

You’re not exactly sure what Bucky is getting at, as he’d been talking with a couple of the same people throughout the night as well. “Well no, but it’s not like I could dig any deeper than surface level with so many people coming in and out of the conversation.”

Bucky hums noncommittally. You furrow your brow, but brush it off. “Did you find anything out from Christopher?”

“Not really. I did notice that one of his daughters wasn’t there tonight. Sarah?”

“Sasha,” you correct. “And no, I asked about her, as well. Petre and Tessa seemed really bothered when I brought her up: apparently she’s been pretty sick lately.”

“How sick?” Bucky asks.

“I’m not sure. It didn’t seem like they wanted to talk about it, though.”

“You think she’s been sick enough to require hospital stays?” he proposes, leading the conversation towards what could have possibly happened to the family’s financials that has lead to their worn down clothing and home.

“It’s worth looking into, isn’t it?”

Part 9

@jackiehollanderr @rabbitrabbit12321 @12345sebby @blackwood-bodecker-housewife @lauraashley93 @themorningsunshine @happinessinthebeing @nash-dara @calwitch @stany0url0calwh0res111 @pono-pura-vida @learisa @introverbatim @kentokaze @marvelogic @kaz11283

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky fanfic #sorry i love you

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