#adop patching

[psformybss]

Paws and Promises

series masterlist

pairing: drew starkey x secret fiancee!reader

warnings: fluff, established relationship, soft domestic vibes, excessive cuteness

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✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　

The morning light filtered through the gauzy curtains of their Charleston kitchen, warm and golden, just like everything had felt since the move. It was quiet except for the soft hum of the coffee machine and the occasional creak of the wooden floor beneath Drew’s bare feet.

He handed Y/N her favorite mug, filled almost to the brim, just the way she liked it.

“Okay,” he said, voice still low and scratchy from sleep. “So… we officially own this house.”

Y/N turned from where she was scribbling in her planner at the kitchen island, her lips curling into a smile. “You make it sound like we just picked up groceries.”

“I mean, we did sign a mountain of papers and give away our souls, but yeah,” he said, sliding into the stool next to hers. “No big deal.”

She laughed, nudging his knee with hers under the counter. “I’m just excited we don’t have to sign anything else. It’s ours. For real.”

Drew smiled at her, soft and slow. “It already felt like home with you in it.”

She leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. “Cheesy.”

“True,” he countered.

They sat in the quiet for a moment, sipping coffee and watching the soft light spill across their new countertops. Their moving boxes were half-unpacked in the next room, and the faint scent of fresh paint still lingered from the weekend project Drew had insisted on finishing before he had to be back on set.

Y/N glanced at him over the rim of her mug. “So, I was thinking…”

Drew raised an eyebrow. “That’s usually dangerous.”

“Rude.” She tried to hide her smile, failing miserably. “You remember what you promised me?”

His expression shifted into something teasing. “If this is about the backyard hammock, I said eventually—”

She groaned and stood and slid into his lap. “No, smartass. I’m talking about this promise.” She pulled out her phone and tapped to show him a screenshot. It was a golden retriever puppy from the shelter’s Instagram page, floppy ears and big brown eyes melting into the camera.

Drew tilted his head. “You bookmarked it?”

“I’ve had a folder of dogs for the last year, don’t act surprised.”

He stared at the photo, then looked up at her. “You wanna go today?”

Y/N blinked. “Wait… really?”

Drew smiled at how her entire face lit up. “We’ve got the house. I’ve got the day off. Let’s go meet him.”

The drive to the shelter was a mix of excited chatter and soft music playing through the speakers. Y/N read the details from the puppy’s post—male, golden retriever, about nine weeks old, and sweet as can be.

“He’s got a little heart-shaped patch on his nose,” she added, showing Drew the zoomed-in photo again.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” he muttered, shaking his head—but he was smiling the whole time.

When they arrived, the woman at the front desk greeted them with a warm smile. “You’re here about the golden retriever, right?”

“Yeah,” Y/N nodded eagerly. “We just bought a house and… well, it felt like time.”

The woman smiled knowingly. “He’s been a favorite around here. Come on—he’s in the back.”

The second they stepped into the room, Drew heard it: the tiny thump-thump of paws against the tile and a soft yip. The puppy was already at the edge of the enclosure, tail wagging like crazy, as if he knew.

“Oh my God,” Y/N whispered, clutching Drew’s arm. “He’s so much cuter in person.”

Drew crouched beside the gate and opened it slowly. The puppy made a beeline for him, stumbling over his own feet before crashing into Drew’s lap with an excited squeak.

“He picked you,” Y/N said softly, dropping down next to them.

The puppy licked Drew’s chin before collapsing dramatically onto his back, inviting belly rubs. Drew laughed, rubbing the soft golden fluff. “I think we’re done looking.”

“Alright,” the shelter employee said with a warm smile, setting the final adoption form on the desk. “Sign right there, and Teddy is officially yours.”

Y/N squeezed Drew’s hand under the table, her grin wide and glowing as she picked up the pen.

“We’re doing it,” she whispered, practically bouncing in her seat.

Drew smiled down at her, watching as she signed her name with a little heart at the end. He leaned in as she passed the pen to him.

“Should I draw a paw print instead of my signature?” he joked.

“Please don’t get us flagged by the shelter,” she laughed.

He signed quickly, and when the employee clapped her hands together and slid them a folder of Teddy’s vet records, Y/N let out a quiet gasp of joy.

“Congratulations!” the woman said. “Teddy’s all yours. We’ll grab his blanket and favorite toy for you.”

Teddy was currently passed out in Drew’s lap, paws twitching like he was already dreaming. Drew looked down at him, gently smoothing a hand over the soft golden fur. “You’re coming home, little dude.”

Y/N was already mentally organizing the next part of the plan. “Okay, we need food, a bed, a crate, toys—oh my god, so many toys—a collar, leash, bowls—”

“Should we just bring the whole shelter with us?” Drew asked dryly.

She shot him a look. “You promised me a dog. That promise included spoiling him.”

The pet store was a sensory overload—colorful squeaky toys, endless aisles of food, and several other people with their own dogs in tow. Y/N was a woman on a mission, pushing the cart like she was on Supermarket Sweep.

Drew followed behind her, holding Teddy (who had been carried in like royalty), one brow arched as he watched her toss item after item into the cart.

“Babe,” he said, lifting a rope toy with a giant giraffe head attached to it, “does he need a jungle-themed tug-of-war set?”

“Yes,” she said without missing a beat. “That’s the cutest one.”

Drew looked into the cart. “He’s got five toys already.”

“He’s a baby, Drew. He’s going to get bored.”

“Baby, you got him the plush lobster, the squeaky donut, a set of tennis balls, and a talking monkey.”

“He likes options!”

Drew tried to keep a straight face but failed. She was too cute when she got like this—eyebrows raised, lips pursed in determination, completely serious about spoiling their new puppy like he was royalty.

She turned to him with a bright pink food bowl that said “Goodest Boy” in glittery letters.

He blinked. “You’re not serious.”

“It matches his vibe.”

“His vibe?”

She held it up next to Teddy’s face. “Tell me he doesn’t look like a goodest boy.”

Teddy yawned in Drew’s arms and let his tongue flop out.

“…Damn it,” Drew muttered. “He kinda does.”

By the time they got to the checkout line, the cart was full. Not just full—overflowing. Y/N had added a fluffy dog bed, two kinds of treats (“He needs to sample!”), grooming supplies, puppy training pads, and a little raincoat that had paw prints on the hood.

“I blacked out a little,” she admitted, biting her lip as she glanced at the total on the screen.

Drew laughed, handing over his card. “It’s fine. We’ll just cancel Netflix and live off peanut butter for a while.”

“I bought peanut butter for Teddy, too,” she added innocently.

He gave her a long look, then glanced down at the puppy curled up in his arms.

Teddy sneezed softly and blinked up at him with those big brown eyes.

“…Okay. He’s worth it.”

“Told you!”

By the time they pulled back into the driveway, the sun was dipping low behind the trees, casting long shadows over the porch. Teddy nestled in the back seat, yawning every few seconds.

Y/N carried him inside, whispering softly as she showed him around. “This is your new home, Teddy. Living room’s over there, kitchen’s full of treats, and that blanket? Yeah, it’s yours now.”

Drew stood by the door, watching them. The sight of Y/N holding the tiny dog, beaming with a mix of wonder and contentment, tugged at something deep in his chest.

“I think you love him more than you love me,” he teased.

She looked up. “It’s a close call.”

Teddy made a soft snuffling sound, curling up on the blanket they laid out for him. Y/N dropped onto the floor beside him, tucking her legs under herself as Drew sat behind her and pulled her into his lap.

“You’re really happy,” he said quietly.

“I really am,” she replied. “This house. This little family. It’s everything I didn’t even know I wanted.”

Drew pressed a kiss to her temple. “Same here.”

They sat there for a while—no cameras, no scripts, no set calls. Just them. Just home.

And Teddy, their golden boy, snoring softly beside them.

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an:

i love them so much 🥲

also i have one draft left and im lowkey out of ideas so if anyone has any plssss send in a request.

[corner-stories]

mama salamander

Mikasa Ackerman. Jean Kirschtein. Post-Canon. Ponds. Cottages. Hazel Eyes. 1723 words. (ao3.)

Near the cottage on the edge of the woods is a stream that trickles down the hill, where the water flows until accumulating into a pond. Surrounding it are either trees with broad branches, natural structures that cast shadows upon the world below, or patches of tall grass. In warmer months the depths of the pool are heaven-sent in the heat, whereas in the winter it freezes over and invites any willing participant to skate across the surface. 

But in the time between seasons, the days where winter transitions into spring, the pond is simply nice to look at. After months with shorter days and clouds of gray, the sight of sunlight shimmering on the surface is a welcomed gift to the eyes. 

While summer is still far away, there’s enough warmth in the air for Mikasa to feel at peace. She sits on a blanket spread out near the pond, enjoying everything from the blue hue in the partly cloudy sky, the breeze that makes the wildflowers sway, or the sound of the stream trickling into the pond. 

Next to her is a sketchbook and a piece of charcoal — provisions supplied by her loving husband — yet despite being surrounded by nothing but beauty she can’t find a thing to draw. The last hour had been characterized by her holding the stick of ash above an unblemished page, wavering on the edge of an idea but being unable to make a mark. Perhaps she is plagued by a feeling of indecision, an inability to settle on what to draw — or maybe Mikasa’s just too nervous to sully the book, a present from Jean for her most recent birthday. 

As a result, the sketchbook and piece of charcoal lay forgotten on the blanket, untouched as Mikasa puts her attention elsewhere. Fortunately, she’s not too worked up over her lack of artistic inspiration or the black smudges on her fingers, as one of her main priorities in life is at the pond’s edge. 

Little Sasha is kneeling by the water, her hands partially submerged as her legs are obscured by the blades of tall grass. Ever since her Papa promised to teach her how to swim in the summer, she’s been eyeing the pond with the utmost glee. The temperature of the air and water are the main things preventing the child from removing all her clothes and jumping in anyways, much to her mother’s relief. Though it’s hard to tell what will happen once the world gets the slightest bit warmer. 

Soon Sasha clasps her hands together and lets a mischievous smile creep onto her face, causing Mikasa to stand from the blanket and approach her daughter. When she arrives at the water’s edge she kneels down, the look on her face is warm and amicable as she eyes the amphibian in the child’s grasp. 

“Caught another one, did you?”

“It’s a water lizard!” Sasha says proudly, as she usually does whenever she gets her hands on a new friend.

On one hand, Mikasa thinks there’s something endearing about her daughter’s inherent ability to bond with animals — whether it be their rambunctious dog, a hatchling that fell from a tree, or the occasional deer that would walk by their cottage. But on the other hand, the week-old incident of bringing several frogs into the house to give them a home in the bathtub had forced a line to be drawn, no matter how kindly Sasha’s intentions had been. 

With that in mind, Mikasa takes a closer look at the salamander on Sasha’s fingers, a creature with dark skin, short legs, and beady eyes residing in a handful of water. She recalls seeing them back when she and Jean first moved into their cottage — fortunately for everyone, the creatures do not appear to be the poisonous kind. 

When Mikasa looks back into Sasha’s eyes she can’t help but see parts of herself in her own kin. As far as her own childhood can feel, she can still recall the youthful need to bond with tiny things, whether it be a doll with one-eye or a grasshopper in her mother’s flower bed. She would be lying if she said she never attempted to adopt the butterflies or squirrels she found in the backyard, much to the amusement of her parents. 

“That’s called a salamander, Sasha,” Mikasa soon corrects, then reaches over to affectionately tap her daughter’s nose, a gesture she does when she feels like teasing. “And you know what we’ve asked you to do when you catch those, right?”

Sasha’s eyes are dark and glassy, just like hers, and as the sound of wind resonates in the air, Mikasa can see the childlike joy in her daughter’s gaze slowly being replaced by a knowing look. For a three-year-old, Sasha’s surprisingly good at understanding the lessons that her parents — or namely, her Papa — take the time to explain.

“I know,” the little one says, and soon she’s lowering her new friend back in the water. The salamander in her hands slips away the second it’s submerged, effortlessly disappearing back into the pond without a trace.

Mikasa can see the saddened look in Sasha’s eyes, and to that she leans over to press a kiss to the girl’s cheek. 

“You did the right thing,” Mikasa assures her. “Mama Salamander probably wants it back.” 

Sasha looks at her mother with a puzzled look on her adorable face. “How do you know that?”

“Because if someone took you, I’d want you back, too,” she promises, tapping her daughter’s nose once more. 

When a smile returns to Sasha’s face, mother and daughter hear a familiar noise amongst the soundscape. Behind them a dog barks, and when Mikasa looks towards the cottage atop the hill she can see a blob of brown fur dashing around the grass. As Hugo runs amok like a majestic idiot, Mikasa and Sasha watch as a person exits the front door of the home. 

Jean walks onto the grass with a bundle in his arms, the breeze gently lapping at his hair and shirt sleeves. He holds onto the baby like the wind could whisk him away at any moment, safely cradling little Asher in the crook of his elbow. 

The smile on Mikasa’s face gets just a bit wider as she stands up. She taps Sasha’s shoulder and urges her daughter to follow her back to the blanket. 

Sasha ends up running forward, happily meeting Hugo in the grass. When the dog begins rolling in the blades, effectively collecting little bits of green in his black and brown fur, Sasha lets out a laugh of unbridled joy before doing the same. Sometimes it’s exceedingly easy to believe that the two operate on the same wavelength. 

As the dog and the child play in the field, Mikasa approaches Jean near the blanket. Asher is awake in his arms, the baby looking at the beauty of the homestead with an utterly blank expression on his face — unsurprisingly, the four-month-old has exactly the amount of depth perception as one would expect. 

“How was nap time?” asks Mikasa, looking lovingly at her tiny son. 

“Well, he enjoyed it,” Jean replies, tipping his head towards the baby in his arms. “I — however — was giving Hugo his bath.”

Mikasa and Jean then look behind them to see their dog and daughter rolling in the grass, effectively gathering even more debris into Hugo’s once well-brushed fur. 

Jean lets out a sigh. “And I guess I’ll be doing that again tomorrow.”

Amused, Mikasa hums before reaching towards the baby. “At least let me take him off your hands.” 

The exchange takes slightly more effort than necessary, as Asher recently developed the habit of clinging to his father at the most inopportune times. At least the sight of a baby grasping the untrimmed ends of Jean’s beard will never cease to be adorable and hilarious. 

Once Asher is laying his head on his mother’s shoulder, Jean runs towards the dog and the daughter on the grass. Mikasa holds Ash as gently as she can, moving to the blanket with slow steps. Once she’s sitting she holds the baby up, her hands feeling impossibly large as they support his tiny torso. He had only been born a few months ago, yet he already feels like a far cry from the bundle of skin and hair he was back in autumn. The strands on his head are jet black, just like his mother and sister, but his eyes are hazel — the kind with just the slightest specks of green — just like his father’s. The contrast is stark, darkness against light, yet like his father Asher’s eyes have an uncanny sense of warmth, tenderness, a sweetness that cannot be denied. It makes Mikasa wonder what other parts of her and Jean she’ll see in her children once they both get older. 

Mikasa looks over to see Jean kneeling in the grass with his daughter and dog. Affectionately, he rubs Hugo’s stomach while giving Sasha a fun-loving look. When Sasha speaks it’s the kind of babbling that only toddlers can muster, yet Jean listens to every word like it’s the most brilliant thing he’s ever heard. He nods happily as Sasha rambles on about the Mama Salamander that lives in the pond, explaining that it would miss Baby Salamander if she took it to live in the cottage. Internally, Mikasa just knows that he’s relieved their bathtub will no longer be a home for wayward amphibians, and to that she has to agree. 

Mikasa watches the scene in silence — it’s charming, idyllic, like something of a dream yet it’s right in front of her. With the way Hugo pants in bliss as Sasha continues to babble about salamanders, or the way Jean pets the dog as his daughter reaches over to play with his beard. Like her brother, she curls her fingers around the longer strands, though she tugs a lot more lightly, doing so in a manner that’s more playful than harmful. 

Little Sasha doesn’t have her father’s eyes like her brother, but the way she fawns over the dog or always speaks her mind makes Mikasa think of Jean. It’s moments like this, watching her daughter play in the grass or observing the hazel in her son’s gaze, that makes Mikasa look forward to the future. 

[randomnameless]

If i may nitpick the start of your post, there's no way to prove that Corrin was a really young child when Ryoma got jealous of their leadership skills, unless we use both the artbook and a line that doesn't exist in JP and was created by Treehouse when they localized the game.

The second artbook states that Garon kidnapping Corrin and ambushing Sumeragi happens 15 years before the first chapter of Fates, and the EN version of Camilla and Hinoka's support has the latter state that she started training to rescue Corrin when she was 7; combine those two facts together, along with Hinoka being explicitly stated to be older than Corrin multiple times, and Corrin would have been no older than 6 or 7 when they started showing leadership skills so superior to Ryoma's that he got jealous of them, which is indeed really stupid.

However, if we dismiss the EN line because it was very likely written without the og writer's knowledge or consent (which is a whole debate in itself tbf), the only pieces of evidence that could possibly point to Corrin having been particularly young while they were living in Hoshido are Garon towering over them during the flashback cutscene (could just as easily be them kneeling in fear instead of being short as a young child would have been), them having no memories of living in Hoshido whatsoever (heavily implied to have been a memory loss spell of some sort rather than natural memory loss, given how Corrin struggles to remember their early life even in the Citadel and instantly regain their memories as soon as they awaken their dragon form, which conveniently seems to have broken the spell), and Silas claiming they were both children when they last saw each other in the Citadel (too vague to be of much use as proof, especially when "child" can mean either a 3 year old or a 17 year old); all in all, i don't think there's enough evidence there to claim that Corrin, as originally written, was meant to be ridiculously young when they started outdoing Ryoma in leadership abilities.

As for the Deeprealms, they're just a logical extension of MyCastle, which was introduced all the way back in Chapter 3, being alternate dimensions in the Astral Plane where time flows at a massively accelerated rate in comparison to the normal world; it makes a lot of sense that there'd be more locations in the Astral Plane than just the small patch of land Lilith gave to Corrin. It's still an asspull that the first gen parents would even have children in the first place when they know that neither the normal world nor the MyCastle are safe places to put them in, due to the former being embroiled in war and the latter being constantly invaded by Anankos' army, but i'm fine with it's implementation otherwise.

Bamboozled by Treehouse, again :'(

That line was about Ryoma being jelly of Corn's leadership while he was living in Hoshido, before being "adoped" by Garon - but yeah, it doesn't make any sense because as you pointed out, per the Artbook Corn was around 6 years old and idk what kind of leadership abilities a 6 years old can demonstrate that would make the crown prince jealous... granted Ryoma is a case in itself lol

The Deeprealms and My Castle - in general - felt wrong for being some sort of pocket dimension where you could have your base and not being developed more than that : you mention invasions by Anankos's army, but we don't have maps where we defend My Castle against them, do we? Why is there no link between those constant attacks and what happens in the "normal" world made by various characters not named Azura and/or Lilith?

What could have been the second war front agains the "real" enemy is just your base of operations (and farming!).

As you pointed out, the second gen comes from an asspull, but I really wonder, were the Deeprealms - given the lack of importance of its lore (another world constantly being attacked by Anankos!!) - created as the some sort of "plausible reason" why and how a second gen could exist, or were they written first, and then the second gen was fitted in this concept?

[gladiolidiaries]

dream said he wants to adop a kitten so patches can have a friend i hope they get the kitten when the tour is over

It needs to happen 🙏🙏🙏

[oracleappsdbasstuff]

ADOP- Online Patching Cycle

ADOP- Online Patching Cycle

The online patching cycle is divided into five phases: Patching Cycle Overview The key actions in the various stages of the online patching cycle can be summarized as follows Prepare Synchronizes patch edition and run edition on the file system.Creates a new patch edition in the database. Apply Executes patch drivers to update patch edition.Patches applied: can be one or many, including…

[fndtn1]

19c DB Bug in ADZDDBCC.sql - Online Patching Readiness Checker - Poor Performance

19c DB Bug in ADZDDBCC.sql – Online Patching Readiness Checker – Poor Performance

As of EBS ICM Application DBA Online Patching ADOP Analyzer version 200.39ADOP Analyzer was not updated for 19c databases: Per 19c Database with Oracle E-Business Suite R12 Known Issues & Solutions ( Doc ID 2662860.1 ) Running ADZDDBCC.sql in 19c database is taking time for Section 26. Before running report set parameter _px_cdb_view_enabled to false .alter session set…

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[grandnerdartisan]

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[oracleappsdbasstuff]

12.2 E-Business Suite ADOP Patching Fails Due To ETCC Error During The Apply Phase ' [ERROR] ETCC not run in the database node

@oracle @oracleebs @oracleerp #oracle #oracleebs #oracleerp #appsdba #appsdba #ebsdba

E-Business Suite 12.2.x, Online Patching ADOP Utilities issues ETCC errors when applying a patch in Apply phase. Receiving an ETCC error while executing the following ADOP command: $ adop phase=apply apply_mode=downtime patches=xxxxxxxxx ERROR Validating credentials. Initializing.Run Edition context :/d01/oracle/inst/fs1/inst/apps/odbdev_oadev/appl/admin/odbdev_oadev.xmlPatch edition…