#STEM N ART Summer camps

[mindzqeducation]

What Your Child Can Learn At A STEM N ART Summer Camp?

Summer is just around the corner, and that means it’s time to start planning something fun for your child. If you’re stuck on ideas, summer camp is a great option. MindzQ Education’sSTEM N ART Summer Camps offer a wide range of activities to keep your child engaged and develop new skills.

With a wide range of programs in our summer camp like Lego robotics, chess clubs, Minecraft, yoga classes, and much more, we offer an unforgettable summer camp experience that keeps kids happy, healthy, and learning while schools are on break.

Inclusive, High-Quality, and Safe

Our camps are designed to be inclusive, high-quality, and safe, ensuring that every student has the opportunity to thrive and grow. With a dedicated staff and a supportive environment, we prioritize the development of not only academic skills but also personal, social, and emotional growth.

We believe in fostering a sense of belonging, respect, and collaboration, encouraging students to communicate, work as a team, and solve problems creatively. We empower students to make decisions, learn from their mistakes, and persevere, instilling in them the values of resilience and determination.

READ MORE...

[rustbeltjessie]

Chicory illustration by Leanne Shapton; “Tender Mercies” poem by D.A. Powell, from American Wildflowers: A Literary Field Guide (Harry N. Abrams, 2022)

Tender Mercies

The dandelions, ditch-blown brood,                 the evening snow and dew-soaked phlox, the Brewer’s pea, the Jepson’s pea (these, the bright eyes of the viridian fields) in chaparral, the hillside pea and angled pea,                              intensities of light and pomp                that distress the easy upswept grass. The smack the rain plants as it smudges past                             and penetrates the canvas.

The smattering on field and railroad tracks,                both hardy blooms and dainty flowers, the judge’s house, the chicken farm, a migratory camp, a flesh motel,                             a stucco digs where all that mitigates the August swelter                is the swamp cooler’s immutable burr,                a straggling house that draws its water from a hard-water well and flushes out                with the help of a crude sump pump.

                           Before the flatland is occluded by the staunch of light at end of day, I wanted to be content with all its surfaces:                            weed, barb, crack, rill, rise... But every candid shoot and fulgent branch               depends upon the arteries beneath. The houses have their siphons                           and their circuit vents. The heart—I mean the literal heart— must rely upon its own plaqued valves; the duodenal canal, its unremitting grumble.                           The brain upon its stem, and underneath, a network, vast, of nerves that rationalize.

The earth’s a little harder than it was. But I expect that it will soften soon,              voluptuous in some age hence, because we captured it as art                          the moment it was most itself: fragile, flecked with nimbleweed,                                          and so alone, it almost welcomed its own ravishment.

I was a maiden in this versicolor plain.             I watched it change. Withstood that change, the infidelities of light, the solar interval, the shift of time,                         the shift from farm to town. I had a man that pressed me down into the soil. I was that man. I was that town.

They call the chicory “ragged sailors” here:            sojourners who have finally returned and are content to see the summer to its end.            Be unafraid of what the future brings. I will not use this particular blue again.

                                                                                 —for Betty Buckley

[splashnparty]

Splash 'n' Party summer camps offer a perfect blend of fun, adventure, and learning, with activities designed to spark creativity, boost confidence, and build lifelong friendships. From arts and crafts to sports, outdoor adventures, and STEM activities, there's something for every child to enjoy. https://www.splashnparty.ae/splashnparty-gallery

[brainynbright]

Unlock Summer Fun and Learning at Brainy n Bright’s Summer Camps in Dubai

This summer, Brainy n Bright invites your child to explore a world of creativity and learning with our engaging summer camps in Dubai. Our camps are designed to blend fun with educational experiences, featuring exciting STEM (Science, Technology, Engineering, and Mathematics) activities that spark curiosity and innovation. From building robots to conducting hands-on science experiments, each activity encourages critical thinking and problem-solving skills. But it’s not all about academics—our camps also offer a range of recreational activities like sports, arts and crafts, and team-building exercises to promote physical fitness, teamwork, and lasting friendships. Safety is our top priority, with secure environments and trained staff ensuring a nurturing experience. With flexible enrollment options and affordable pricing, Brainy n Bright makes it easy for your child to have a memorable and enriching summer.

[consultent]

MindzQ Education: Tutoring & After School (Fair Lawn, NJ)

Fuel your child's summer with creativity at Mindzq Education's STEM N Art Summer Camp! Unleash imagination through STEM experiments and expressive art. Limited spots available - enroll for a dynamic learning experience!

MindzQ Education is committed to helping each student get the required amount of help by providing them with the right amount of support hence we conduct one-on-one classes along with small groups and online classes as well. Our tutoring services are available for students.

Learn More

[graceslavenderhaze]

fight night  (jatp crew x reader)

readers home life hasn’t been the best and they’ve been lying to their friends about it. one night it all builds up and the reader shows up to julies, distraught. ( for this the boys are alive bc it just worked out best but other than that no changes.)

this has been sitting in my drafts so i thought i’d post it

trigger warning: family fights, anxiety, depression, past talk of eating disorders.

For a long time you use to just keep everything buried down. That was your fatal flaw. It wasn’t a trust issue, you just always had this feeling that if no one knew then everything would be fine. But your family had lately been falling apart, your parents always seemed disappointed in you, you were fighting with your siblings more and it felt it a ballon that kept on expanding. you didn’t know when everything was going to explode it just kept getting worse.

Today was the exploding point. It seemed like no matter what you did, it just wasn’t good enough. You were the black sheep in your family, they made you out to be it. They complained about how you dressed, what your room looked like, the music you played, the people you hung out with, and for what? You didn’t do anything that was textbook problem child material. 

You tried your hardest in school, you never asked for much, you cleaned almost everyone’s mess at home, and after a while that became your routine. Never be seen, never be heard and never get any credit for everything you do. Meanwhile your siblings, little miss perfect and the star academic got everything you wanted. Your parents attention, their approval, and their constant reassurance. 

By the time you were in high school, you were emotionally independent. A stranger to your own family pretty much. You went to an art school along with your siblings. Even as the oldest, you quickly fell into their shadows. Your sister a musical protégé on the violin, your parents paid for the best lessons, and without a doubt she’ll probably attend some ivy league. Your brother was in the advanced academics program, with yale and harvard already offering him scholarships in his sophomore year. Then there was you. You were in the art program, and while your teacher swears that all the top art schools have you on their radar. You still felt insignificant.

You worked a weekend job at the local coffee shop, latte love , it wasn’t everything but it helped pay for art supplies for you to build your portfolio. Their you met Julie Molina and Flynn Davis. Two girls who were your age, they attended the music program at your art school. You recognized them, Julie had been like the sun at the school. In the hallways always smiling and then her mom died, the sun went away hidden behind clouds. While Flynn was unapologetically herself and didn’t backdown from telling people how things were, she was fearless. They were also probably the first two people who knew your siblings and were able to separate you from them. 

Then later on in the year the three of you met Luke, Alex and Reggie. Latte Love was hosting its monthly open mic night. It was almost a year after Julie’s mom died, so in an attempt to coax her back into music, Flynn brought her around. You offered free hot chocolate on the house as a bribe if she wanted to come. After an hour of mainly middle schoolers trying to face stage fright, soccer parents who desperately tried to hold onto their high school garage band phase and any other mediocre act who gave it their all in effort. Sunset Curve preformed. 

That night honestly sent all six of your lives’ into a full spiral but in the best way. A month after you had met sunset curve, they formed a band with Julie and became, Julie and the Phantoms. Flynn becoming the band manager and you being the artist for ticket designs, posters and anything else. It helped distract you from everything going on in your life and with your friends you didn’t feel left out or the black sheep. You were you and they loved you for all of it. 

But you could only be happy for so long. Your family always managed to make you feel horrible about yourself, this week had felt like the worst its ever been. Your sister being recruited for a summer symphony in Australia, your brother would be off at a stem camp and your summer plans were just to work, make art and hang with your friends. Your family wasted no time in telling you that you were wasting your time, or that it was just some silly childish thing. They didn’t understand how big Julie and the Phantoms were becoming. The latest gig being opening for panic at the disco at the Orpheum. 

You couldn’t take it anymore, which is how you ended up walking to Julie’s house right in the beginning of a thunderstorm. When you finally made it to Julie’s front stoop you were drenched head to toe. Julie being the one to pull you in the front door. In her oversized smiley face sweatshirt and baggy sweats. The movie night dress code.

“Did you walk here?” She exclaims looking at the outdoor storm and turning back to her best friend. Your eyes red from crying and cheeks raw from wiping your tears rapidly. She’d been expecting you for weekly movie night, especially since her dad and brother had been away for a baseball game for the weekend. Just not in this state.

“More like swam.” You replied with a dry laugh. Trying to desperately hold yourself together. Knowing your friends were all in the living room, you didn’t want to burden them with your breakdown. 

“Hey was that the chinese food! Y/n? Whats wrong bean?” Flynn stated her mood changing halfway through the sentence noticing the state of their best friend. Who looked like she’d just had the world’s worst day. You smiled fondly at the nice name she’d given you, which was a coffee pun. 

“Family shit. Like always.” You said looking down at the floor and the puddle that you were slowly dripping onto the Molina residence’s welcome mat. Both girls smiled sympathetically, they had their fair share of stories of how bad things could get at the L/n household. 

“Come on! It’s movie night, you’re getting into cozy clothes and having junk food with your friends.” Julie said taking your hand and leading you upstairs to her room. Julie handed you spare clothes due to you being completely soaked. Then a towel to dry yourself off.

“Here, once you’re ready to come downstairs, we can put your stuff into the dryer.” Julie said smiling at her friend before leaving to give her privacy. Taking the towel she gave you and trying to dry your hair. Then changing into the cozy clothes she gave you. Your phone blowing up from texts from your family. Your parents wanting to know where you were. Not caring how hurt you were. Your siblings saying half assed apologies they didn’t mean. They’d done this before and they’d do it again. 

Ignoring the messages, you walked back downstairs. The comforting smell of chinese food wafting at you. Julie, Alex and Flynn stood at the table. Meanwhile Luke and Reggie were were at the local 7/11 getting slushies. 

“Did anyone order a hot mess?” You said jokingly getting their attention. Alex standing up and instantly hugging you as if he’d never see you again. Hugging him back. Alex’s hugs always felt as if it was a cloud. 

The Molina residence house phone then rang, the caller id labeling your house. “We can just let it go to message.” Julie said turning back from the phone to you. You shook your head, “I’m so over this bullshit.” Walking over to the phone you picked it up. 

“Hello ever so loving parental unit.” You said with sarcasm dripping off every word. “Pop off!” Flynn said as she bit into a dumpling. You bit back a smile. “Where are you? You can’t run out because you’re upset.” You heard your mom say. You rolled your eye. 

“Where i am every friday night. I told you in advance i had plans so when you take your attention span off miss perfect and genius boy remember you have a third fucking child. Goodnight!” You said promptly and then hung up placing the phone back on back on its home base. “Beyoncé would approve.” Flynn said clapping for dramatic effect.

“How much trouble are you going to be in for that?” Alex said passing your usual that Julie knew to order for you, you shrugged. “Bold of you to assume they’ll remember to ground me.” 

“Wow what a rag tag group of mommy and daddy issues we are.” Reggie announced as he placed the tray of slushies down on the counter. “Excuse you!” Julie exclaimed as she took a slip of her blueberry slushie. “She’s dead, that’s an issue.” Flynn said as she grabbed her green apple one. You choked on your food for a second, “Out of pocket!” 

“She’s right babe.” Luke said hugging her from behind. “You have mommy issues too.” Julie said turning around slightly. “Only the hottest people have both mommy and daddy issues!” Alex exclaimed holding a hand of for you and Reggie to high five. 

“My back hurts from having a healthy parental relationship and carrying that standard.” Flynn said cracking open her fortune cookie. You laughed looking around at your dysfunctional friend group. 

“We are all going to hell for these jokes alone.” You said taking a sip of your slushie. Reggie scoffed, “We’re just warming up.” 

[notyetneedcoffee]

Moving Parts, 4

Part Four

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Nothing but angst and a bit of fluff

A/N: Just one more part to go!

“So how did we manage send her in... to stumble into...” Tony Stark paused waving his hand in the air. “What? A Nazi heritage summer camp? Without any of our intelligence knowing about it?” He slouched in his chair at the conference table, head resting on his hand.

Steve scowled and turned his back to the group, looking out the window. His jaw clenched so hard his head ached.  

“Looks like they’d been there since the end of the war.” Bucky tapped the tip of his left middle finger on the table with a tink, tink, tink. “Now that we know what to look for, the whole village seems to be a transplant. They’ve made a fortune in international banking. Art deals, too.”

“Gee, wonder where they acquired their collection.” Clint stated blandly. “Were they wrapped up in our target’s business? I mean why else would they grab Y/N?”

“Doesn’t look like it.” Bucky glanced over at Steve, but he wasn’t going to say anything. “She said she was blending into the crowd, watching the mark. That’s when they probably thought she was casing their exchange instead. According to the one guy I interrogated, they’ve been watching Steve and I pretty closely and knew her. She didn’t tip off the target, but she stumbled onto someone with a personal grudge.”

“Captain Rogers, Sergeant Barnes.” FRIDAY’s voice filled the room. “Miss Y/L/N is awake and asking for you.”

Bucky stood and nearly made it to the door before he realized Steve hadn’t moved. He stopped, waiting. The rest of the group looked between the two, knowing something was wrong but remained silent. “Come on, pal.”

Steve took a deep breath and followed. Once in the hall, his feet slowed. “I should just let you go ahead.”

Something snapped. Bucky spun on his heel and grabbed Steve by the shirt, shoving him into the empty room at his left. All of the dejected looks, all of the self-deprecating comments, all the tension since they found you just became too much. “What the fuck is wrong with you, man?”

Jerking away, Steve ripped the collar of his shirt. “What?” He stepped back with a growl. “What do you want from me?”

“I want...” Bucky’s face tightened in pain. “I want... my family. I want all of us.” His voice dropped to a low, tight whisper. “I want her to be happy. I want you to be happy. We’ve been through so fucking much. We may still have a duty to uphold, but we could have so much more now. Whether you want to acknowledge it or not, we get to choose.”

Steve’s shoulders dropped. He wanted to turn away, but the intensity in Bucky’s stare forbade it. “I’ve messed up so much. I let her down. Hurt you both.”  

“Yet we still love you, jerk.” Bucky’s eyes softened.

“You sure?”  

Bucky’s eyebrow rose. “Don’t make me punch you in the face.”

Steve huffed. “Okay.” He ran his hands through his hair. “What should I do?”

“Right now? We go to the med wing.” Bucky tugged his arm. “We’re late.”

Your tongue felt fat in your mouth and your head apparently weighed fifty pounds. You mind kept drifting off. FRIDAY let the guys know you were awake so you fought the weight of sleep. Laying on your side made it difficult. The pillow was soft. Being drugged up sucked.

You blinked slowly. Stay awake. You opened your eyes to see Steve and Bucky in front of you. The smile you gave them pulled on the split on your lip. It didn’t matter. “Yeah.” You slurred. “You’re here.”

“Hey, Sweetheart.” Steve leaned over and pressed his soft lips against your hairline. “Did you sleep okay?”

They’d grown more worried as they flew you home. You’d vomited up blood, probably swallowed from your facial injuries. However, you pain steadily increased and your blood pressure dropped. After a tense wait, the doctor told them the worst of your symptoms stemmed from a severely bruised kidney. Combine it with the cracked ribs, and you were out of commission for several weeks.  

Reaching clumsily for their hands, you pouted. “No. I wanna be warm.”  

Bucky chuckled, knowing it meant your wanted to be cuddled between them. His thumb rubbed gently over your hand. “Soon, Doll.”

“Really?” Your eyes drooped closed.

Steve moved a piece of hair from your face. “As soon as the doctor says you can come home. We’ll keep you warm.”

“Both?” Your sleepy whine was barely audible, but you squeezed their hands. “Please.”

“Yeah, Sweetheart.” Steve gently combed his fingers through your hair. “We’ll both be there.” He looked into his best friend’s eyes. “I promise.”

Bucky’s smile turned into a chuckle when you snored lightly in response. “I think she likes the idea.”

“Can you sit with her for a while?” Steve asked. “I think there’s something I need to do.”

“Sure.”

Steve put his hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “Thanks, pal. I’ll be back soon.”  

He left the med bay and immediately asked where Tony could be found. By the time he walked into the lab, Tony was expecting him. “Hey Cap. How’s our girl?”

“Sleepy.” He leaned against the worktable, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. “I, uh, need to talk to you about a couple things.”

Tony looked up from his stool, taking in Steve’s uncomfortable posture. “Shoot.”

“First, I’d like stick close to home while Y/N is recovering. Unless there’s some world-shattering emergency, of course.” He chewed his lip.

“Well, duh.” Tony spun around on his seat. “I wouldn’t expect anything else.”

Steve’s eyes widened. “Okay. Great.” He swallowed, a little less anxious. “The other thing is, um.” He looked around the lab for a pen and paper, but settled for a tablet and stylus. He began sketching out something quickly. “How long would it take do bring in a crew to do this?”

Tony looked at the quick drawing. The corner of his mouth quirked up. “Really?”  

Cap took a deep breath and nodded. “Yeah, um, is it going to be a problem? Any of it?”

“The work is the easy part. You’d be surprised how fast I could get this done.” Tony smiled. “You really want me to do this?”

“Yes, I do. I’ll deal with the fall out.”

“Fuck that. What fallout?” Tony scoffed, then laughed. “Let’s get to it.”

Steve laughed, relieved. “Language.”

TAGS

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[smoakmonster]

G is for Gadgets and Gimmicks {3/3}

A/N:‌‌ ‌Well‌ ‌folks,‌ ‌the‌ ‌conclusion‌ ‌to‌ ‌my‌ ‌little‌ ‌bookstore‌ ‌AU‌ ‌is‌ ‌finally‌ ‌here!!‌ ‌Sorry‌ ‌for‌ ‌the‌ ‌extreme‌ ‌delay‌ ‌in‌ ‌finishing‌ ‌out‌ ‌this‌ ‌series.‌ ‌I‌ ‌appreciate‌ ‌all‌ ‌of‌ ‌your‌ ‌sweet‌ ‌responses‌ ‌to‌ ‌this‌ ‌fic.‌ ‌There’s‌ ‌just‌ ‌something‌ ‌so‌ ‌precious‌ ‌about‌ ‌fluffy‌ ‌Olicity,‌ ‌isn’t‌ ‌there?‌ ‌I‌ ‌hope‌ ‌you‌ ‌enjoy‌ ‌the‌ ‌wrap-up!‌ ‌Thank‌ ‌you‌ ‌again‌ ‌for‌ ‌reading!‌ 

‌Special‌ ‌thanks‌ ‌to:‌ ‌‌pleasantfanandstudent‌ ‌for‌ ‌this‌ ‌adorable‌ ‌cover‌ ‌art!‌ ‌

(Part‌ ‌1)‌ ‌(Part‌ ‌2)‌ ‌(Read‌ ‌on‌ ‌AO3)‌

***

com∙pro∙mise (v.)

3. to cause to become vulnerable or function less effectively

***

“Hey, the QR code on the door isn’t working, so do I still get the coupon?”

Oliver glances up from meticulously arranging rows of his latest mini-soufflé experiment to find a gangly teenage boy (probably a college freshman) watching him with expectation and just a hint of entitlement. 

He frowns, stifling a sigh. “The what?”

This has been happening a lot lately. Interruptions. Deep down, Oliver knows that any form of interruption is a good interruption, that droves of customers, albeit annoying ones, do not detract from his work, but rather are the purpose of it. Strangers mean business. They mean another day where he gets to make payroll and keep his archaic practice of second-hand bookselling from dying out. 

He’s not sure when or why or how his antiquated cardboard box of a business managed to draw this sudden influx of cantankerous college kids buried in cancer-causing gadgets, but he has his suspicions. Perhaps it has something to do with this QR...something? While Oliver may not understand ninety-percent of the latest digital discourse, he does know what a coupon is. And he’s pretty sure he would remember issuing said coupon. 

As though the fringes of his very thoughts have pulled her forth by a string, the oh-so-familiar staccato of heels on old wood flooring tears Oliver’s attention.

“I’ve got this,” Felicity says brightly, with a brief hand on his arm. She inserts herself into the conversation with ease, brushing past Oliver to smooth things over with the impatient customer. 

Her touch is so quick that for a second he thinks he might have imagined it. Only the warm buzzing just below the surface of skin is proof that it was real. In truth, her touch has become a more regular occurrence. This marks at least Number 10. Not that he’s keeping track. Not that his body even remembers. Every reaction is like the first time.

Simple, innocent little touches that cause his mind to stray to dangerous places. She probably has no idea the effect she has on him. 

Felicity suddenly peeks his way and shoots him a quick wink. Or more like her attempt a wink. The squinty-eyed delayed blink is so endearingly Felicity that Oliver has never had the desire to correct her. 

So maybe she has some idea.

Oliver shakes his head with a soft smile. He’s not sure when this happened, either, but somewhere along the way Felicity and he stopped exchanging the usual social greetings and formal pleasantries. Now, she just barges into his store with as much zeal and belonging as Thea. 

The conversion taking place directly in front of him quickly devolves into Domain Lookup and Cloud Networking, and a mere five sentences in Oliver finds himself on the periphery. Feeling inept and oddly foolish, as he so often does in the presence of Felicity Smoak, and yet also a bit bereft that this kid can keep up with her whirlwind trail of thoughts and he cannot, Oliver decides to venture into the nonfiction recesses of the store. The only safe haven he has left apparently. 

Oliver finds himself gravitating towards the cramped little nook nestled alongside the brick fireplace that’s been inoperable since Plymouth Rock (Thea’s words, not his). Last year on a whim, Oliver tried cleaning out the old fireplace and ended up drowning himself and the entire back of the store in soot. He spent days washing soot out his hair. Thea got a real kick out of that, dubbing the incident Gray Day.

Even now, it is not uncommon for the occasional customer to find a book sprinkled with the stuff and mistake it for dust. 

The conversation up front grows muffled, lending a calm stillness to this part of the store. Hardly anyone ever ventures back here, partly because the aisles are more narrow and the lighting is poor, and partly because according to Rene it smells like a murder happened here. As if the kid knows what a murder smells like. 

Personally, Oliver kind of likes the pine and leather aroma. It reminds him of simpler times, when Dad and he would go camping in the woods every summer. Oliver chuckles, remembering what a poor sport he could be and how patiently Dad taught him how to start a fire and set up a tent. He’d give anything to get more days like that with his father. More days at all, really.

What would it be like to get away like that again? Even just for a weekend? To go somewhere off-grid, no cell reception, no emails, no internet or WiFi or QR Codes or...

A flash of yellow binding catches his eye, and Oliver spots a book haphazardly stuffed on the third shelf. Carefully, he yanks the book out and reads the cover. Beginning Programming for Dummies. 

A huff escapes him. It seems he can’t get away fast enough. 

Curiosity getting the better of him, Oliver flips through the book, hopelessly searching, but not really wanting anything to stick. Maybe something in here will remind him of Felicity. Maybe if he can find even one word embedded in all these hieroglyphics, he’ll be able to make more sense of her world and actually be able to communicate with her about the things that are important to her. 

But with every turn of the page, every heading and diagram just serves to confuse him all the more. With a frustrated groan, Oliver slams the book shut and attempts to shove it back into its tight crevice; at this point, he couldn’t care less if the book’s misshelved. 

“Hey, what did that book ever do to you?”

Oliver stills. Her voice both jars and soothes him. 

Feeling strangely guilty, he turns around but has trouble meeting her gaze, stuffing his hands into his pockets, as though he’s been caught cutting up in Mrs. Hannoven’s fourth grade class again. “Sorry,” he mumbles. 

Felicity tips her head, wearing that adorably confused pout of hers. “I’m not sure I’m the one who needs you to apologize.” 

“Oh. Um…” Does she seriously want him to apologize to a book?

“What I mean is…” She takes several steps closer to him and has the decency of a saint to wait until he’s looking her in the eye before she continues. “Oliver, I’m sorry.”

“What?” What on earth could she possibly have to be sorry for? 

“I shouldn’t have pushed for the QR codes. I knew it was too soon, but I just got so excited after all of my contacts agreed to help sponsor your website. And then, during a webinar last Thursday there was this study that said QR codes can help increase foot traffic by upwards of 30%. And I thought, ‘Hey, that seems like it could work for my friend Oliver’—I hope it’s not too presumptuous that I called you my friend. We are friends, right? Of course we’re friends, what else would we be? It’s not like we’re exactly colleagues or anything—”

“Felicity.” He rests his hands on her shoulders, effectively halting her ramble, a tried and true tact. And if she happens to shift a bit closer to him as a result, well, who is he to stop her?

He likes this about them. That in this one, predictable way he can give her the same sense of quiet security she gives him.  

“Yes, we are friends,” he says, giving her a slight smile, the finality of the word friends sinking into his gut. After all, it’s like she said. What else could they be? She is so many leagues out of his league. He's t-ball, and she's the Seattle Mariners. He doesn’t even own a digital watch, much less a smart watch. What could she possibly want with a guy like him?

Clearing his throat, Oliver moves on, “And I don’t know if I’ve said this to you yet, but...thank you. I really do appreciate everything you’ve done to help me out here.”

“Really?” That tentative, searching look makes him want to pull her close and wrap her up in his arms. She only wears that look when she’s seeking approval. She wears it a lot around him. Though why she’s still aching for his approval is beyond him. She’s had his approval and more since that first rainy Sunday. 

“Yeah. Although I do have to ask…”

Felicity raises her eyebrows. 

“When did I start offering coupons?”

“Oh. Um...since last week?”

“Uh-huh,” he nods, not wanting to cave just yet but secretly pleased. It’s a smart ploy, even if it was never part of his original plan. So much of their relationship and business schemes are way outside the bounds of his original plans. And he’s a better person for it. 

Looking a little too pleased with herself, Felicity reaches into her pocket, pulls out a slip of memo pad paper, and hands it to him.

“What’s this?”

“It’s a list of all the computer science books you need to stock up on before the Starling University summer quarter starts up. There’s an Advanced Algorithms course that’s only offered once a year, and I have it on good authority that the college bookstore never carries enough textbooks. And let’s be honest, your computer science section is lacking. Pretty much all of your STEM material, actually.”

Oliver huffs a laugh. “What are you, my sales rep?”

“I could be.” She gives him a knowing look, telling him he can either waste time arguing with her about this or just accept the inevitable. 

And after altering all the basic mechanics of his store, what are a few additional books really going to do? 

“In the meantime, let’s see this little guy back to his proper home.” Felicity proceeds to extricate his paperback nemesis and saunter further down the narrow aisle, looking for the right Dewey Decimal destination. 

“I also think we should advertise at the grad school,” she calls over her shoulder.

“We?” he replies, following her down the aisle.

“Yeah, bring in some study groups. Do you know there is a perfectly good History and English Literature study hall that meets at the Starbucks around the corner, when they could be meeting here?”

“No. No. I don’t do study groups.” He’s caved on a lot of things, but there has to be a line somewhere. And so help him, if this is the hill he has to die on to preserve even one ounce of dignity, then so be it. 

“Since when?”

“Since always. Felicity, they’re a bunch of toddlers who leave scone crumbs all over the floor and never actually buy any books.”

Felicity just chuckles at him, and if he were in a better mood he might actually be able to enjoy the sweet sound. “Oliver, stop being such a grumpy old man.” 

“No, Felicity, I think—”

She’s already moving up the ladder before he can stop her. The rickety, unstable pile of firewood that technically qualifies as a ladder he’s been harassing Rene about pitching for months. Honestly, he’d all but forgotten it was still tucked away back here. 

While she makes her way up the rungs, Oliver latches onto the base, holding the ladder firmly in place. With an excruciating amount of restraint that he barely even knew he had in him, Oliver watches her heels lift up and settle on each rung, all the while discreetly avoiding a glance at her pencil skirt. Not even a peek.

The ladder shakes as Felicity engages in a wrestling match with the top shelf. “It. Won’t. Go. In,” she says through gritted teeth. Finally, on the third push, Felicity lets out a strong exhale of relief. After wiping her hands, she makes her descent. 

Like a hawk following its prey, Oliver keeps his gaze glued to her feet. Even so, he’s still not quite prepared when one of those black t-straps slips, throwing her off balance and tumbling straight into his arms. 

“Oliver!”

He catches her easily, pulling her soft frame snuggly against him. Felicity wastes no time in wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. “Hey, I gotcha. I gotcha.” 

Her head plops against his shoulder, her warm, rapid breaths tickling his neck. He tightens his own grip around her back and under her knees, as if to reassure himself that she’s alright. 

“You okay?” he finally asks.

Her only answer is to press her cheek more deeply into his shirt, her soft hair nuzzling against his jaw. He catches a faint whiff of her strawberry shortcake shampoo.  

“My hero,” she breathes without a trace of humor. 

I’m no hero, he wants to say. It’s his gut reaction any time a single mom commends him for his “Cool Books” section that finally got her teenage son to try a book of his own accord. As though selling books can compare with saving lives every day. His greatest risk comes in the form of avoiding papercuts. And rescuing toppling patrons apparently. 

Selfishly, he’s currently enjoying the feel of Felicity in his arms a little too much to be considered a hero. Can she feel his own racing heartbeat beneath her ear? 

He clears his throat but fails to put any real distance between them without releasing her. He’s not ready for that just yet. He’ll prolong the sweet agony for as long as physically possible. 

“Well, this is a bit compromising,” he admits. 

“Compromising?” She snickers, lifting her head, a spark of mirth shining behind her eyes that wasn’t there before. “What are you, a Jane Austen character?”

“Blame Thea. She made me read them. It was in our original founders’ agreement. I have the contract to prove it.”

If you’re going to own a bookstore, Ollie, then you have to know who Mr. Darcy is. It’s a requirement. Plus, it’s catnip for women. Nothing gets girls more excited than if you acknowledge the perfection of Jane Austen protagonists.

That knowledge has never served him until this moment. Until Felicity.

He still hasn’t liberated her, and she seems in no hurry to be free of him. His ego far too eagerly takes note of that. 

“Are you making an actual joke, Mr. Queen?” Her smile is contagious. “You know, if this were a novel, this would be the part where we would um…” She flushes, her gaze suddenly faltering to his mouth. 

His heart jumps to his throat, pounding with misguided hope. While he’s not an avid reader, despite his self-appointed line of work, he can read between the lines now. And he knows Felicity well enough to know that she only ever blushes over accidental innuendos.

She can’t really mean it. Can she?

“Where what?” he asks gruffly, not trusting himself to crave more than she is ready to give him, yet aching for a way to turn fiction into a reality, to give Felicity Smoak her happy ending. And maybe find his own in the process. 

She doesn’t pull away. She doesn’t correct her misstep. She just watches him with a strange and quiet expectancy. 

Oliver gently shifts his hold, bringing her a bit closer, leaning down to meet her. The tip of his nose brushes against hers, and when she lingers there with him, it’s all the invitation he needs…

“Hey, boss, we got a spill behind the counter!”

Felicity starts in his arms, and Oliver very nearly groans. Of all the times for Rene to interrupt him. The spill is probably minor. How many times does he need to remind his employees that if you make a mess, you should just clean it up yourself?

“Ollie?” calls Thea. Her voice comes from far too nearby for his comfort. It must be a real pickle if Rene’s managed to rope his sister into the ordeal. 

Reluctantly, Oliver loosens his grip on Felicity, and she slides right out of his arms with a graceful plop, returning their difference in height to its usual status. The top of her head aligning with the level of his heart. 

“I uh…” His entire vocabulary seems to have vacated his brain at present, leaving him feeling ten times more abashed than he was ten minutes ago. 

Felicity tucks a golden strand behind her ear, still dodging his regard with robust persistence. “Yeah, you should go...take care of that…”

He nods once, not that she notices. As he slowly turns to walk away, she stops him with a simple question. 

“Same time tomorrow?”

He really should not put much stock in the hope her voice carries. But he can’t seem to stifle the grin spreading over his face when he glances back over his shoulder. “Same time tomorrow.”

***

Thea pulls out a small chalkboard from under the counter, erases the number ‘1’ with her fist, and then writes a ‘2’ in its place. The sign now reads “12 Days Since Last Attempt To Date.”

Scowling, Oliver is almost too afraid to ask. “Thea...what is that?”

His sprite of a sister proudly places a hand on her hip. “This, dear brother, is a record of the number of days since you last tried asking Felicity out on a date.”

“What?” A flicker of panic rushes through him. What does she know? She can’t know about the almost-kiss. Besides, that wasn’t twelve days ago. Again, not that he’s keeping track. He opts for being as evasive as possible. “And when was the last time I supposedly did this?”

“That day you bought Big Belly Burger for the entire staff as a thank you for staying late to reorganize the science section. You gave Felicity the burger with extra pickles that mysteriously ended up in the bag—even though, last I checked, she does not work here.”

She gives him that pointed look, the one she usually wears when she’s guarding a straight. They really need to have a discussion about the merits of a refined poker face. 

“That wasn’t a date, Speedy.”

“Hence the word attempt.”

Oliver shakes his head, returning his focus to the monotonous task of counting the till. Where was he again? Oh yeah, the fives. Five, ten, fifteen, twenty, twenty-five…

Once he’s got that row tallied, he finally tells Thea, “Felicity and I...we’re just friends.” The words burn his throat. Felicity might think of him as nothing more than a chum, but after that near-kiss nestled behind the dusty stacks, Oliver has ceased lying to himself about his feelings, resigned to this new, unrequited reality. 

“Sure.” He can feel her eye roll. “Friends who just happen to spend all of their free time together and buy each other beverages and have inside jokes—”

His head snaps up. “We don’t have any inside jokes.”

“Really? Then how do you explain this?” Thea holds up the cassette player tape dispenser Felicity got him as a gag gift. He still has no idea where she stumbled upon the trinket. Using her internet prowess no doubt. 

Oliver snatches it out of Thea’s hands while purposefully searching for anything in need of repair, as if to justify its very existence. “Our old tape dispenser broke.” 

“Uh-huh. And what about that little emoji keychain you bought her? The one with the glasses on it?”

Oliver shrugs. “It just...reminded me of her, that’s all. It didn’t mean anything.”

Thea is clearly ready to keep arguing, but Rene wanders over with a pastry order for one of the offices across the street. For once in his life, Oliver is grateful for Rene’s keen ability to interfere with his private conversations and begins boxing up the order. His heart does a strange flip when he recognizes the usual list. 

Unfortunately, Thea remains undeterred. “Hey, Felicity works there, right? I’m sure you could swing by for a quick visit.”

“Thea.”

“Don’t ‘Thea’ me. This is a good idea! Just tell her you were in the building and wanted to see if she’s available to go out to dinner this weekend. Easy.” 

“I work on the weekends. You know that.”

“And you could schedule yourself some time off once in a while. You are the boss. Plus, you’ve built this place so that even Rene can practically run it with his eyes closed.”

Both Rene and Oliver shoot her a look. 

“Alright, I said practically.”

Rene grunts his agreement, stuffing the to-go box to the brim with chocolate chip muffins. “You know, she’s got a point. You could think of this delivery as a trial run. You bring the order across the street, while Thea and I monitor the store. If all goes well, then you might feel comfortable enough to take a more extended break in the future.” 

“You’re just trying to spend more alone time with my sister, aren’t you?”

Rene smiles, guilty as charged. “There’s no reason why we can’t both be winners here.”

Oliver sighs. “Thea?”

Thea chuckles, crossing her arms. “Don’t worry, Ollie, I can handle him.”

Still he hesitates, running his thumb back and forth over the box, the box he’s supposed to bring to her workplace. He has so much more riding on this than a mismanaged store in his absence.

“I’ll be back in twenty minutes. Do not burn down the store while I’m gone.”

***

“Ms. Smoak?”

“One second, Curtis. This alphanumeric algorithm isn’t going to crack itself.” Huddled in front of the monitor and nibbling on the remnants of a Twizzler, Felicity has been doing the digital tango for the last hour. 

“Well, I hope you get cracking in the next ten minutes, because Coffee and Coding is about to start.” 

“We have Coffee and Coding on Wednesdays,” she dismisses without tearing her gaze from the screen. 

“It is Wednesday,” says Curtis.

Felicity darts a glance at her IT Director, who just lifts his eyebrows in confirmation. Flustered, she pushes up her glasses. “But who ordered the pastries?”

“I did,” Curtis admits. “Don’t worry, I didn’t forget to call your favorite little coffee shop around the corner. Or across the street in this case. Can you believe they still don’t have online ordering?”

A pang of disappointment flutters through her. While it’s not much, Felicity has come to treasure her little Wednesday morning ritual, an easy excuse in her routine to spend more time with Oliver. 

Still, it’s not like they don’t see each other an ample amount of time during the week anyway. Though after The Incident a few days ago, things between them have been different, more uncertain than usual. He hasn’t been avoiding her exactly; he just seems a bit...distant. Like he’s carrying a secret he doesn’t know how to share yet. Takes one to know one. The mystery has been driving her crazy. 

She’s also been racking her brain for the perfect scenario to recreate that heated moment they shared after her Humpty Dumpty debacle. But the trouble is...as soon as she hints at the depth of her feelings, she’s going to have to tell him everything. 

Hey Oliver, so you know how you assumed that I was an Executive Assistant, and I never corrected you? Well, the thing is I’m actually more like the CEO of a product-pushing conglomerate that is slowly encroaching on everything you know and love. Do you want to go out sometime?

Ugh. A stealthy flirter she is not.

So maybe today’s mishap is for the best. A chance for her to rally some gumption and figure out how to phrase her affections while still salvaging their fledgling friendship. 

The workshop will likely provide plenty of opportunity to strategize. Denise tends to drone on and on about the benefits of heapsort every time it’s her turn to talk, so the redundant lecture will afford Felicity added time to do some real romantic brainstorming. 

Sufficiently mollified, Felicity pops up out of her chair and strolls towards the conference room. 

“The food just arrived,” says Jerry as soon as she’s outside her office. 

She stumbles to a halt, blinking at her executive assistant. He says it so casually, as though her entire, perfectly orchestrated little enterprise isn’t coming crumbling down around her by one bakery blunder. 

“What? Now? Here?” She’s pretty sure she’s having a stroke. Although her ability to remain upright negates that possibility. But what good is logic at a time like this? 

Of all the truth-telling scenarios she had running through her head, this was not one of them.  

This is why she never asked for delivery! Why she personally has placed and picked up every order.

Okay, no need to panic. This is no different than any of the other work-related conflicts she has resolved in the past. Of course, those were mostly software issues, but surely the skills are transferable. She’ll just have to insist that Rene not breathe a word of this to Oliver until she has a chance to talk to him later. This afternoon, in fact. She can come up with an adequate confession by then. 

That cursory idea gets zapped the moment she turns the corner and finds the apropos man of the hour waiting in the hallway. Oh frack. 

Every blessed thought evaporates straight out of her skull. Only one person on the planet has this effect on her. 

As though it’s been days and not mere hours since she’s seen him last, hungrily her eyes feast on every part of him, from his golden-brown hair with little flecks of gray that he likes to pretend aren’t there, to those broad shoulders and sturdy arms beneath that favored blue henley. She remembers far too well what it’s like being wrapped up in those arms, all snug and safe and wonderful.

Then she starts to catalog his overall uneasy demeanor, hands stuffed into his pockets, shoulders rigid with discomfort. 

Guilt pricks her heart. He looks a little lost. 

She tries to observe her office through his eyes. Surrounded by glass walls, open and exposed. Screens scrolling with tech lingo. Not a single paper product in sight or dusty nook to duck behind. Everything is quite literally the opposite of his usual environment. And it has never been more apparent how contrary their lives are. 

All this time, she’s been invading his world and never once has he stepped into hers. Because she wouldn’t invite him. Not until she was ready. She’s driven them to this precipice. Her little lie is the grain of sand slowly corrupting the motherboard, eroding their communication from the inside out. Some friend she is. 

And yet, him braving the unknown and everything he opposes just to come and see her has to mean something, right? 

“Should we wait for you?” asks Curtis.

Felicity shakes her head, keeping her focus on Oliver. “I’m not going to make the meeting.”

“Well in that case, can I have your muffin? Because you know I’ve been working out in the mornings, and my tummy is a rumblin’—”

“Curtis!”

“Okay. Okay.”

Footsteps retreat into the conference room, until at last the door closes, encasing them in peaceful silence. 

Swallowing, Felicity hedges closer to him, the clank of her heels echoing down the long hallway. “Hi,” she says when she’s standing just a foot away from him.

“Hi.” He’s looking at her in that soft, affable way of his, making her heart short-circuit. 

She has a masters degree in cyber security, and she’s taken many a profit-hungry board member to task, so why can’t she seem to come up with a better conversation starter than ‘hi’ ?

But Oliver, her sweet friend, saves her from her own awkward web of absurdity. “So...” he begins, nodding to the wall in between the elevators. The wall covered in bold, betraying letters Smoak Technologies. 

Oh crap on a cracker. He knows. Already. Duh, Felicity, he walked into your building, you know this. The man can read. What did you expect? 

Felicity slams her eyes shut and blurts, “I can explain.”

“You don’t have to explain.”

“I know it was wrong. And I hope you know that I would never want to take advantage of your friendship, and that my lying to you has nothing to do with you and everything to do with me. I was afraid that if you knew the truth that I would lose you—”

“Felicity, hey.” Oliver’s hands, solid and steady, grip her shoulders. She has no right to draw from his comforting warmth. “You’re not going to lose me.”

She licks her lips, daring to meet his gaze again. She’s startled to find those bright blue eyes looking back at her full of sympathy, absent of judgment. “Are you sure? Because I’m pretty sure I’ve broken every cardinal rule in the friendship book.”

His face softens. “I don’t care that you lied to me. I don’t. I care...that somehow I made you feel like you had to.” He sighs, his voice deepening to a near whisper. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

Felicity fights a wince and loses. “Because I...I kind of liked not being a CEO for a few minutes a day? It was nice. Freeing. And I didn’t know how you would react to the fact that basically my entire livelihood stands for everything you hate—”

“I never said I hated it.”

Felicity tilts her head playfully. “No, you just loathe the mere suggestion of technological advancement.”  

Oliver chuckles. “Fair enough.”

“So you’re not mad?” 

As he shakes his head, relief and elation spill through her. 

Not for the first time, Felicity is grateful that her charming literary companion is truly a good person. And not just the kind of good where he’s friendly toward impatient customers or gracious with incompetent employees—although, he is that, too. But his integrity runs so much deeper; it’s the core of who he is. Modest and generous. Forgiving to a fault. 

Oliver fundamentally embodies all that her corporate associates do not. Is it any wonder she was so drawn to him from the very beginning? 

She may have ruined her chances for anything more than friendship to develop between them, but as long as he remains in her life, she’ll be happy. She can settle for cordial camaraderie. Besides, it won’t feel like settling with him. Not really. Not completely. At least, she’ll convince herself of that sooner or later. 

Oliver withdraws his hands, leaving an alarming coolness tingling on her arms. Instantly she misses his touch. 

She watches in puzzled silence as Oliver shifts his weight, clears his throat, and suddenly evades her look. He’s nervous, she realizes. How did she not notice sooner?

Because you’ve been a little too preoccupied with yourself, Felicity, that’s how. 

“Listen, Felicity…I came by because I was in the neighborhood. But I guess I’m always in the neighborhood. You don’t need to be told that.” 

Felicity bites her bottom lip to hold back a smile. He’s awfully cute when he’s flustered.

“I know I’m just an obsolete bookstore owner, with no degree, and you…” He glances around the hallway, as though the point he’s trying to make is engraved on the walls somewhere. 

“And I what?” she prompts, a sudden burst of panic flaring in her chest, more terrified than anything that he’s never going to finish that sentence.

Oliver studies the screens for a long time, his gaze finally coming to rest back on her, and what she sees there makes her want to hold on to him and never let go. “You’re going to change the world,” he says. “You’ve already changed mine. For the better, I might add. But, I don’t know, maybe our worlds are just too different.”

“But I don’t care about the differences, and I thought you didn’t either.”

“I don’t!”

Everyone in the conference room can probably hear their conversation by now, but that is a low priority issue. All she cares about is Oliver. 

“Okay, so then what are we arguing about?”

“Felicity…you should be with someone who deserves you, someone who won’t hold you back.”

“That’s what you came up here to tell me? Oliver, what I deserve is up to me.” 

He dodges her look again, and she can feel him retreating, feel the invisible barrier he’s erected between them. 

Not one to forfeit so easily, Felicity calmly sidles up to him and lays a bold hand on his chest, right over his heart. “Please, Oliver,” she whispers. “Ask me what you really came here for. Whatever it is, I’ll say yes.”

“Promise?” 

Her inability to read his face scares her more than anything. “Promise.”

He sighs, and an anxiously long time passes before he says, “Felicity, would you like to go camping?”

She starts. “What? You want to drag me out into the woods with your sister—”

“Thea will not be there.” 

“Oh.” Nibbling on the inside of her cheek, Felicity processes this information before it dawns on her. “Oh.”

Oliver nods faintly, as though he can hear the flurry of questions her heart is suddenly screaming. 

“Are you asking me out on a date? Like an actual date? Like a date...date?”

“I mean, the implication with me standing here…” He bobs his head around, like he can’t really decide whether to confirm or deny that. She’s really put the poor guy through the ringer today. 

“Or we could go hiking,” he suggests with a shrug. 

“Hiking?”

“Yeah, there’s a great trail about an hour north of the city. My dad and I used to go there all the time. There are waterfalls and plenty of wildlife.  I should warn you, though, that it’s near impossible to send or receive phone calls in our spot.” 

He wants to take her to his special haunt? Her heart twists with bittersweet excitement. She deceives him, and he rewards her by sharing yet another coveted piece of his history. 

How can this man think he’s not worthy of her? If anything, their situation is exactly reversed. What are gadgets and gizmos compared to goodwill and grandeur? 

With more boldness than she thought herself capable of, Felicity meticulously wraps her arms around Oliver’s waist, leaning her head way back to keep eye contact with him. “Well, Mr. Queen, that sounds perfect. So...am I forgiven?” she whispers, pinching her lips together.

His own lips twitch as he follows her movements and pulls her close. “Always.” 

***

“I like you like this,” Felicity tells him, following his lead down the winding, rocky trail, her hand snuggly wrapped around his. 

“Like what?”

“I don’t know, sort of Man Versus Wild.”

He laughs, a loud, rich melody that vibrates through the core of her being. 

She’ll admit she was curious to see what side of Oliver the great outdoors would bring forth, and reality did not disappoint. Out here, away from the chaotic noise and hustle and bustle, he seems so...free. Happy. Like he’s really alive for the first time. And she feels privileged that she’s the one he chose to let so close to him.

The perks of the great outdoors have surprised her, too. Not once has she missed the ding of her cell phone. 

They stop for a break on a small cliff ridge (small according to Oliver, anyway) overlooking a waterfall and a trickling stream. The views today have been glorious. All of the views, she thinks, sneaking a peek at the man beside her. 

Though he doesn’t turn, he squeezes her hand once, and there’s a slight flicker at the corner of his lips, acknowledging that he can feel her ogling him unabashedly. She gets to do that kind of thing now, though. 

“I’m thinking of closing the bookstore,” he admits, causing her to trip over a branch in shock. His grip steadies her, and then he motions towards a large rock. Once they’re sitting beside each other, he continues. “I’ll turn the business into a full-time bakery and cafe. It’s something I probably should’ve done a long time ago. You were right.” He glances her way, wearing a reluctant half-smile. 

Reeling, all Felicity can say is, “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. You were right about the QR codes, too.” He leans in conspiratorially. “Our weekly customer traffic is up 25%, and the sales reflect that the majority of those purchases are from the coffeeshop. Just seems like the smartest decision.”

“But Oliver, don’t you love the bookshop side of things? Helping people find their next go-to read?” 

He shrugs. “Sure. But I love staying in business more.”

Felicity doesn’t understand it, but the thought of never smelling second-hand pages or stumbling over disarrayed book stacks sends a pang of longing through her. “Well, it sounds like you’ve given this a lot of thought.”

“I have,” he confirms. 

“But will it make you happy?”

He hesitates. “It’ll give me some stability to put Thea through college. That’ll make me happy.”

He’s so selfless, it breaks her heart a little every time she beholds that soft underbelly of his gentle nature. She wonders what other secret dreams he’s sacrificed over the years to provide for his sister and his employees. And maybe even for her. If she gets her wish, she plans to return the favor and help make his tucked-away dreams come true. First she has to discover what they are.

Shuffling closer, Felicity rests her head on his shoulder. “You know, I hate to break this to you, but bakeries are just as liable to collapse as bookstores. You can never fully predict the market, even in the most stable of economies.”

“I need information about what I don’t know,” he says in her ear. 

She perks up. “What about a compromise?”

“Compromise?”

“Yeah, it’s where two parties agree on a mutually desirable outcome.”

He chuckles, the hearty sound warming her down to her toes. “I know what a compromise is, Felicity. What did you have in mind?”

“Well, you’ll be happy to hear that I have converted the entire IT department over to the ways of Verdant-roasted coffee. We could make you the official sponsor of our weekly Coffee and Coding. Think of all the free advertising that will bring.”

“I don’t want any handouts, Felicity.”

“It’s not a handout if it’s good business,” she argues, pleased to see him giving it some genuine consideration. After a long time of companionable silence and sharing a water bottle, she says, “And if all else fails, there’s always the kindle route.”

She giggles at the dismissive look he shoots her before growing serious again. “Don’t give up, Oliver. Your little bookstore...it’s changed my life. You opened up my heart to ideas and worlds that I didn’t even know were possible.”

Pulse hammering in her throat, she wonders if he catches her accidental revelation, that the depth of her urgency has far less to do with treasured paperbacks than it does her utter dependency on him. 

“A compromise. It could work.” He nods to himself. “Speaking of…” He slips his hand into his back pocket. 

“What are you doing?”

Oliver pulls out a phone. A shiny, non-retrograde phone. 

Felicity gasps. “Since when do you have a smartphone?”

“Thea got it for me after she spilt a latte on my old phone. I’m choosing to believe it was an accident.”

“That is very sensible of you.”

“We could take a photo,” he suggests.

“You mean with the front-facing camera? That, my friend, is called a Selfie.”

He scowls. “I don’t think I’m ready to say that word. Baby steps.” After an arduously humorous struggle, with Felicity patiently helping him navigate all the buttons, Oliver finally manages to snap a photo or two or twelve. 

While she’s fairly certain the majority of the photos turn out blurry, they take an unnatural amount of fun in making ridiculous faces at the camera anyway. “Okay, you have to delete that one.” She points to a photo that paints her in a particularly unattractive light. 

Oliver studies the picture fondly. “Can’t. I don’t know how.”

“Here, then let me.” 

He holds the phone out of her reach. “Oh, so you can delete all of them?”

“Not all of them, just the ones that make me look bad.”

“Felicity…” he says her name as if it explains everything. And suddenly he’s not laughing anymore, though his eyes still carry a spark of secret amusement. “Let me have this keepsake.”

Keepsake. Such an old-fashioned word from this unconventional man. If Oliver were a book, he would be just like those scuffed up, intimidating volumes he’s always trying to convince novice readers to sample. Judged for his strange and rough exterior, yet guarding a mysterious sweetness and—more than he will admit—gooey epicenter. You just have to crack the spine and ruffle a few pages to get there. 

“Felicity…” Just the way he says her name makes her feel like she could do anything so long as he’s with her. 

He leans in just enough to let her know his intent, but stops halfway, leaving the final choice to her. What a gentleman he is. And like all the great heroines, Felicity doesn’t let him do all the work. She meets his kiss eagerly, pouring out in little touches what they’re both unsure to say out loud at this early stage.

But she knows it. Deep down in her bones, she knows she loves him. And she can feel his love in the way he responds. 

What a risk she’s taken, giving her heart to the most anti-technology human on planet earth. She has a feeling the dividends will be well worth it. 

***

Tag Team: @angelalafan / @austencello / @dust2dust34 / @emeraldoliverqueen​ / @hope-for-olicity​ / @mel-loves-all​ / @memcjo​ / @releaseurinhibitions​ / @scu11y22​ / @smoakqueenz​

[doomedandstoned]

Closer To The End (part II)

~By Billy Goate~

Art by Ruso Tsig

Everyone has bouts of sadness, loneliness, heartache. For better or worse, it's a part of the human condition. There was some discussion after my last article about whether depression is something we can choose to walk into or away from -- like a bad attitude -- or whether in some people it may be more deeply ingrained in the psychological makeup, whether by nature or nurture. I thought it would be helpful to give you a window into my own background so you can understand when depression first made itself manifest and the different strategies taken to deal with it over the years.

Banished from this world, and from its toil I can only watch, grieve and pity Stare at stupid likes, wonder at people's smiles

I get more and more stress Nothing anyone can offer, more or less Done grieving, closer to the end

DON'T KNOW WHY

I vaguely recall spells of melancholy in childhood. The return from summer camp to a boring home with mom vacuuming and dad at work had me feeling quite empty and blue. It was a strange, bewildering state of mind to be in. Mom told me to snap out of it or else. There were a few moments that shattered my reality as a child. Realizing, for instance, that mom and dad were having marital problems. Hearing my pastor of a father say a swear word. Often, I would be startled awake in the dead of night to my mom shrieking at my dad, throwing dishes, insisting that he was against her. My dad was a patient man and knew that all was not right in her world. These things jolted me into new layers of reality, each accompanied by periods of moodiness and anxiety.

By the time I was in the 4th grade, I started having trouble in school. I was placed in one of those "talented and gifted" programs, though I never really understood why. I knew I couldn't see what my teachers were writing on the chalkboard. Panicked, I would ask students nearby what the hell the teacher was writing, only to be scolded for distracting the class. One particular teacher was downright mean to me, until she found out that I was having vision problems and needed glasses. Once she realized I was also the son of a preacher man, she tripped all over herself to be kind. Maybe she felt guilty?

Something else odd happened around this time. I came home with division homework one day and just decided not to do it. I don't remember if it was because my parents were too busy to help or I was just too stubborn to ask. There was no rational reason for it. The next day, I was shamed in front of the entire class by an Admiral Ackbar looking mother fucker named Mr. Davis. "Billy Joe, why didn't you do your homework?" he demanded. "Why?" His hand lifted my chin, forcing me to stare up into his beady little eyes peering menacingly behind his spectacles. Mr. Davis' rosy complexion turned beat red when I answered: "I...don't know."

I don't know anything I don't know anything I don't know anything I don't know who I am

I don't know anything I don't know anything I don't know anything I don't know who to be

SATANIC PANIC

My parents were tethered to a particularly pernicious strain of fundamentalist Christianity that got caught up in the "Satanic Panic" of the 1980s. That meant no D&D for me! Urban legends were shared in Sunday school and from the pulpit about young people who had necked because their character "died" in this forbidden game. It was the most sinister proxy for evil that I could envision at that time.

The Satanic Panic put everything else under the microscope: toys, comic books, and popular music were all suspect. A copy of Phil Phillip's 1986 "expose" Turmoil In The Toybox lay on the coffee table, pages well-worn and highlighted. He-Man, G.I. Joe, even Star Wars were viewed as tools of the Devil to recruit a desensitized generation of youth into his heathen horde. I'd wake up from one day to learn about something else I couldn't have, play, watch, or do. Video games would not be far behind.

One day, my mother caught me rocking out to the Scorpions in my room and immediately confiscated my radio, outlawing metal from the house (and basically anything with a rock 'n' roll beat). MTV lasted only long enough for me to be exposed to Metallica's visceral "One" and Guns 'n' Roses' "Welcome To The Jungle." While the classic days of rock's infancy were viewed as a time of innocence (I don't think my folks really got what "Blueberry Hill" by Fats Domino was about), anything stemming from the late '60s counterculture forward was viewed as dangerously corrupting.

Various factions within the church began playing games of connect-the-dots with the songs of Jefferson Airplane, Led Zeppelin, and Black Sabbath, tying them into a subservice plot by Luciferian cults and the shadowy elite (at that time Communists -- a favorite boogeyman of the era) who were trying to undermine undermining of God, family, and country by subverting its youth. All of popular culture was roped in with the conspiracy, too. Though the house was cleansed of its ungodly influence, the worst was still ahead.

Soon, my mother started cutting me off from neighborhood friends and finally pulled me out of public school altogether around middle of 5th grade. She had learned about this radical new response to America's failing education system through friends from another church who had just taken their own children out of school. Emboldened, she began homeschooling us in West Texas in the mid '80s, during a time when it wasn't a clearly legal practice. Every time the doorbell rang my siblings and I would run and hide, thinking the truant officer had come to take us away to foster care. I didn't understand at the time what I do now: my mother was mentally ill. Furthermore, she was in over her head. This became apparent when she tried to take on the role of teacher.

While I am extraordinarily grateful for the year or two of solid education she gave me (particularly in the writing and public speaking departments, two areas she and my father were naturally gifted in and which have been the buttress of my career), it wasn't long until she became frustrated with the Abeka and Bob Jones University curriculum we were using. One day, when I was struggling with algebra, she declared that we wouldn't have to learn it. "After all, who actually uses algebra in daily life?" she wondered. We were now self-directed learners, a radical new idea that was controversial even in the homeschooling movement ("un-schooling," they called it). Of course, I wasn't allowed to just sit around and watch TV. Consequently, I shifted my focus to the things that were more interesting to me: music, art, history. Math and science? Not so much.

STOCKHOLM SYNDROME

For years, I remained blithely unaware of what was happening in the world around me in the world of music. I lived in Arlington during the rise of Pantera, Topeka during one of Guns ‘n’ Roses most controversial shows, and Oregon during the height of the grunge era and the sunsetting of the Grateful Dead -- all of it veiled from notice. My life was devoted to church and, if anything, I tried to convince fellow Christians to separate themselves from the tainted allure of the fool’s gold of popular music, television, and video games. For a while, I was a true believer. Call it Stockholm Syndrome, if you like. Infractions of the moral code -- and the slightest temperament of rebellion -- were met with a freshly cut switch, which would leave stinging welts up and down my calves, tights, arms, and back. Thus my conscience was conditioned.

I remember happening upon the pornographic scene in George Orwell’s 1984 and afterwards feeling that the only right and proper thing to assuage my guilt was to burn the everlasting shit out of this smut. Even then I loved the novel, but I couldn't reconcile my faith with this section of it, so I purged it in the flame of backyard trash barrels. At my most fervent, I also lit the match to a stack of MAD Magazines and comic books. As harmless as they might have seemed to the average Joe blinded to the wiles of the Devil, these were gateways into realms of the flesh. “Walk in the spirit, not the flesh,” I recited to myself as fire brandished the yellowed pages of print, slowly turning them black until they were embers caught up by the wind and scattered into the sky. True story: I once threw away a perfectly good copy of Downward Spiral after one hearing the demonic screams of "Becoming" (not to mention the brash blasphemy of "Heretic").

The me that you know doesn't come around much That part of me isn't here anymore

The me that you know is now made up of wires And even when I'm right with you I'm so far away

This kind of extreme separation from the world really fucked me up socially. For years, I couldn't hold on a conversation with another person my age. What would we talk about? I was clueless about anything happening in the world of sports, music, television, or the culture at large. Even though conversation is no longer a problem for me, I still feel odd about friendships. I have an irrational fear that they're going to be taken away from me at any moment, so I keep everyone at a comfortable arm's length. At times, intimacy feels painfully awkward.

Maybe this is why I'm so notorious for leaving shows immediately following the last song. I’ll give my smiles, shake hands, and say goodbye, but avoid sticking around long enough to really get to know people. I’ve been invited to crash on couches to avoid the long drive home, but I always politely decline. Certainly, I don’t want to come across as rude, I just feel like an outsider to the world -- someone who just doesn’t fit in, doesn't belong. Not now, not ever.

TEENAGE ANGST HAS PAID OFF WELL

As I reached my adolescent years, I began going through prolonged spells of melancholy. The prospect of sharing this with others was extraordinarily embarrassing, so I kept it all bottled up inside. Mostly, I tried walking it out on long excursions through the open field next to our house. I worked through a lot of issues during that time and credit those walks with helping me to keep my sanity. As a matter of fact, I recommend daily constitutionals to everyone as a general principle of good mental health. It would be a mistake not to mention that my belief in an omnipresent God at this time played a medicinal role in helping me to cope with my depression, though my views on religion would one day reverse course.

By 18, symptoms of major depression surfaced like a noxious weed and even God could not get me through it. I prayed, too. God, how I prayed, sometimes hours on end. That year, I fell into a downcast mood that refused to dissipate and remained there for months -- four of them straight. I sought refuge in the music of Tchaikovsky, working my way from the fateful Symphony No. 4 to his Symphony No. 6, the Pathétique. The sounds I was hearing tapped into a new emotional alphabet, impossible to transcribe into any tongue. It was remarkable: somehow the music knew precisely what I was feeling. I finally had a soundtrack to my depression.

One day, a buddy and I joined the military on a whim, though he'd later get disqualified for asthma. I felt the Army would provide a much needed "Be All You Can Be" boost to my confidence and a crash course in normie life. I shipped down range to my duty station, Fort Benning, Georgia, for infantry training. My new home would be with Charlie Company, 2nd Battalion, 58th Infantry Regiment -- the infamous "House of Pain." In the space of 14 weeks, I was exposed to every aspect of humanity imaginable. From the "shark attack" welcome of the drill sergeants on Sand Hill to the rude middle of the night awakenings for physical training, I was in shock most of the time. Slowly, though, I eased into this strange new world and got my bearings.

Almost a full month into this prison world, we were allowed to visit one of the on-base shopping exchanges. I immediately looked for a CD player and began checking out the music section, trying to see if there were names I recognized. "Guns 'n' Roses? Sure they're cool," shrugged my buddy Bradley, a floppy-eared Gomer Pyle looking dude. "But you really need to check out some Soundgarden, dude." I did, picking up their latest, Down On The Upside, and it was like salve to my soul. The music spoke of being trapped ("...and I don't like what you've got me hanging from") and being eternally at odds with the world ("Born without a friend and bound to die alone"). There was even a song about "Boot Camp," the short album closer. The nihilistic despair was strangely comforting.

I must obey the rules I must be tame and cool No staring at the clouds I must stay on the ground In clusters of the mice The smoke is in our eyes Like babies on display Like Angels in a cage I must be pure and true I must contain my views There must be something else There must be something good far away Far away from here And I'll be there for good For good

The song did not resolve happily, and I feared my life wouldn't either. After a serious injury left me permanently wounded, I began to feel my life wasn't being guided by the Hand of God of all, but the random throes of Fate. Maybe they were the same thing. I resigned myself to the misery of a long recovery, during which time I had to learn to walk again. It's a three beer kind of story, maybe I'll share it sometime. Probably not. Returning to civilian life proved to be even more of an adjustment than the military had been, and my shadows of depression lingered with me even as I tried to remain one step ahead of them.

MELANCHOLIA

I have long held a theory that human beings are not built for the world that we have constructed for ourselves. Whether we're talking Seattle traffic or the constant buzz of social media, the frantic pace of our rapidly evolving technocracy has left us a worried, frazzled mess. The studies are conclusive: almost one in five have experienced depression and one in four struggle with anxiety, with PTSD being a household acronym.

A counselor once asked if I enjoyed being depressed. I found it a bit of a repulsive question. I can tell you that there is nothing glamorous about depression. There's no reason to idolize the angst of those sad Kurt Cobain eyes. Everyone has experienced feelings of being bummed out, and for most folks it is a transitory feeling. It comes when one of life's storms arises and leaves when the situation resolves itself. There's a whole section of us, however, for whom the dark clouds never leaves. It just hovers around our heads, like the oppressive, low-hanging specter of an Oregon winter.

Depression isn't always about feeling sad, either. Often it manifests in a general malaise -- you can't bring yourself to care about the things you used to. Other times, it works in tandem with anxiety, seizing your heart at the thought of all the day holds in store, then punishing you with the feeling of dread. We may feel sad, anxious, or fearful and not be able to give a rational explanation for it. In those moments, I cannot imagine a more miserable place to be. With that said, I hasten to add that my description of depression may not align with your own, as it is an intensely personal experience.

Release your head from the world Keep yourself underground No one understands your mind

Humans programmed like robots Making sure you don't belong No one understands your mind

I suspected I had depression in the clinical sense, when I realized that though I wanted to feel better, all I could do was subsist in the misery. Those of you who've been able to talk yourself out of such states will scoff. My mother, who suffers from a host of afflictions that have never been properly diagnosed, was notorious for telling us kids to "snap out of it." I do understand that kind of no-nonsense perspective. Her father and mother were staunchly independent homesteaders of the WWII generation who braved the untamed wilderness of Alaska and the exotic dangers of Australia. The '60s and '70s generation grew up fearful of losing such independence to mental institutions that locked up people, merely because they acted in ways society didn’t understand. The stigma of psychiatric care was every bit as real as the stigma of mental illness. Thus, her approach was quite practical: take Saint John's Wort, get on a good diet of vegetables and fruits, drink plenty of water, get fresh air and exercise. If that doesn’t work, there’s always Jesus.

Despite plenty of prayer and a multitude of home remedies, depression continued plaguing my mind. People frustrated by what they viewed as an easy fix would imply that depressed folk like me just wanted to be depressed, maybe because it got them attention or they were just spoiled rotten. Soon I stopped sharing altogether. As one friend of mine, a real no-nonsense type, told me: “No one cares. You have to get on with your life.” “How do you manage that?” I asked. “What's your secret?” “You just have to shrug it off,” she concluded. I envied the cold, pragmatic stoicism and wished that I could just shrug my shoulders and let everything slide off. At one point, my depression was so acute, I looked into electroconvulsive therapy, memory loss be damned. During my consultation with a specialist, I learned the procedure had advanced since Jack Nicholson’s unfortunate end as a mental patient in One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest. Ultimately, I decided against it.

SEARCH FOR ANSWERS

As with most human situations, our problems stem from a complex mixture of nature and nurture. I posed a question to my psychology professor one day: "Does depression cause us to think depressing thoughts or do depressing thoughts cause us to be in a state of depression?" His answer surprised and relieved me. "Both," he said.

In Psychology 202, we were in the midst of a chapter on depression and other mental disorders. Having recently experienced the loss of my grandmother, I was feeling especially hopeless and decided to ask my prof another burning question at the end of class. "If a person were to see a therapist, does it go on his record?" In my mind, counseling was for the weak and hideously broken. "Not at all," he responded with a smile. "Even psychologists seek help from other psychologists for their depression and anxiety." Then he really blew my mind: "I have a therapist myself. See her once a month. Sort through a lot of life decisions that way." He also assured me that there was no master file of such visits. While a therapist might keep her own notes, it's certainly not something shared with employers and as a rule is kept strictly confidential, as are all medical records.

My first visit to a counselor was nothing like I'd imagined. I wasn't given pills, invited to lay on a couch and look at ink blots, or even asked questions about my parents. Instead, the counselor initiated an open-ended conversation that encouraged me to articulate the tangled mess of thoughts and feelings I'd been bottling up inside. It was the first time I'd ever talked about my experiences in the military or about the emotional upheaval of my childhood. I felt liberated after just a few weeks of these sessions. For a time, I felt very much on top of my problems. Maybe this counseling thing wasn't so bad after all. I even began to recommend it to my friends and stood up for psychologists when mom would bash the profession in one of her trademark rants.

Promises abound You rarely find it to begin Maybe I'm afraid To let you all the way in

I excuse myself I'm used to my little cell I amuse myself In my very own private hell

I noticed a pattern to my depression: it seemed to be triggered by situations in which I felt helplessly incapable of controlling my environment, decisions, and destiny. You know, other people taking advantage of me, a nightmare roommate, an overbearing boss, unrequited love -- that sort of thing. It was like a switch flipped and all of the sudden the feelings flooded in and surrounded me for days, even weeks.

Feelings of loneliness and disquiet were often compounded by negative thinking about the situation. "What's wrong with me that I can't find someone to be with? Am I that unattractive or uninteresting?" The negative self-talk wasn't helping my situation. In some ways, it even turned out to be a self-fulfilling prophecy. I'd walk around with a scowl on my face, prompting friends and family to constantly ask, "What's wrong? Is everything ok?" That's why I realized it may take more muscles to frown than to smile, but that undersmile sure is a lot more comfortable. No wonder people kept themselves at bay.

I actually started practicing my smile in the rearview mirror on the way to school every day, just so I remembered what that felt like. Fake it 'til you make it, the saying goes. Even if I was feeling like a miserable wretch inside, I certainly didn't want to betray those feelings to the world outside. So I got good at being a fake. When people asked, "How's it going?" I'd say, "Fine, just fine, thanks. And you?" (One of my counselors would later call me on that every session: "How are things really?").

When I got married, depression reached peak levels, only now that oppressive, low-hanging cold front wouldn't burn off with the sunshine. The mood never lifted. It was with me 24-7. It wasn't unusual for me to be severely depressed during the normally halcyon days of summer. I knew something had to be done, so I confronted another long-time stigma of mine: medication.

To be continued...

This whole house of cards crumbling slow If I disappear would you even know? The trap is time and no one gets off of this ride alive

So far under Too much pain to tell And now I'm ripped asunder So far under

[mindzqeducation]

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Schools And Childcare hillside from WhizKidz

Our staff are 100% committed to delivering world class customer satisfaction by offering outstanding local service and lens processing. Our local operations are backed up by a strong, reliable global supply chain, as well as strengths in manufacturing and research.

We encourage applicants to submit their Young Musicians Program applications in our third round of Admissions (deadline April 19). Click here to download new student application materials — returning students, contact us if you need yours. We look forward to another wonderful summer — the Young Musicians Program will run from Saturday, June 29 to Sunday, August 4, 2013.

The Richard Committee for Academic Excellence will bring a new parent leadership training one-day basecamp” to northern Kentucky in April. The camp will give parents a look inside public education in Kentucky and provide them with tools to effectively engage in their children's school, said Helen Carroll, NKY parent leadership coordinator. Since 1997, the Richard Committee has trained more than 300 northern Kentucky parents through the Governor's Commonwealth Institute for Parent Leadership. GCIPL is a five-day training that gives parents a deep dive into public education, including the Kentucky Academic Standards, accountability, school data and school governance.

The returns some Cold Spring businesses received Tuesday, Dec. 18, when Crossroads Elementary School students marched inside were in the form of a ‘thank you' gift. The 15-member Crossroads Elementary School Coyote Council of fourth- and fifth-graders walked up a local child care hillside from WhizKidz and through parking lots to say a personal thank you to employees at PNC Bank and Kroger in the Crossroads Shopping Center. Students stepped inside the businesses and gathered tight to briefly shout a thank you” in unison and handed over balloons, posters, candy and a thank you letter at two businesses.

MGB and I go way back to when they were Mean Gene and the Portable Jons. "This award has taken us completely off guard because there is so much incredible local talent," said Gene Baker, the founder and fearless leader of this terrific cover band who enjoys introducing new talent with "Mean Gene Presents" on the last Saturday of each month at Mongo's Saloon in Grover Beach. Guitarist and lead singer Baker renamed the group MGB for Mean Gene Band, but what hasn't changed is their excellence. The meanest thing about Gene is his gutsy guitar riffs. Three other outstanding members give the band its punch, including singer and bassist Johnny Punches, drummer Brian Monzel, and lead vocalist Kelly Atwell. They also formed the group Rebel 66, playing original metal rock. MGB has been packing dance floors statewide with their eclectic range of music. Like the sports car, they are tuned, love the road, and ready to rock 'n' roll.

Northern Kentucky University's Camp Innovation Pathways to College Program is an innovative program designed for high potential youth to discover and explore advanced content and engaged learning. All classes provide the opportunity for students to share interests with other children while exploring pathways to intellectual development, academic enhancement, career exploration, and creative artistic fulfillment. Camp Innovation offers transdisciplinary courses infusing entrepreneurship, science, mathematics, social studies, technology, visual and performing arts, and original interdisciplinary studies. Click here for more information.

So many thrilling concerts and collaborations came to life during the 2016 Young Musicians Program. Our stellar faculty and staff served as caring teachers and mentors to 57 young students (ages 9-18) from around the world. They demonstrated how to be goofy, sophisticated, creative; how to be excellent musicians as well as confident, accomplished communicators. There were 100+ new musical works debuted by both faculty and student composers. We enjoyed weekly hikes, dances, open mics and swimming at the lake. We even were treated to visits by a large bouncy house, popcorn and snowcone machines, and a giant inflatable water slide on the lawn.

In partnership with Michigan Tech, the Keweenaw Bay Ojibwa Community College STEM Outreach Department is going above and beyond for your typical summer camp. Today is part of a three week-long series of summer camps requested by the KBOCC. STEM, which stands for Science, Technology, Engineering and Mathematics, encourages students to be exposed to those respective fields at an early age.

We have many families throughout our district that were impacted by the recent tornadoes. On Friday, March 9th our students and staff raised over $1800 for families in the Campbell County schools who were impacted by the tornadoes. Thanks for all of your support.

CAMPBELL COUNTY SCHOOLS - Campbell County School District learned this week that Campbell County High School has received yet another national ranking. CCHS was ranked as one of America's Most Challenging High Schools” by the Washington Post with Campbell County High School ranking 9th out of all public high schools in the State of Kentucky. Schools who are national ranked are given an index score. The index score is the number of college-level tests given at a school in the previous calendar year divided by the number of graduates that year. Also noted are the percentage of students who come from families that qualify for lunch subsidies (Subs. lunch) and the percentage of graduates who passed at least one college-level test during their high school career, called equity and excellence, (E&E).

[jincherie]

poseur | drabble

pairing: none/all genre: drabble, angst words: 1.9k+ rating: sfw warnings: uh angst, sorry, character death? up to your interpretation notes: I was deep in my feels and I apologise in advance

in the future, pain didn’t exist

masterlist

In the future, pain didn’t exist.

When you were younger, you might have marvelled at what the future would hold. Technology was advancing at such a rapid pace, new tools and creations invented with each rise of the sun over the horizon, that you’d always allowed your imagination to run wild. Incredible things could happen in just a few years, who knew what could happen in ten, twenty, fifty? What would change the world in your lifetime?

Hovercrafts, renewable energy, holographic technology— your younger self spent many hours pondering what you’d live to see grace the world. What would the future hold? Of everything, you’d only considered the material— and what would exist. Not once did you ever consider what wouldn’t.

It was the future, and pain didn’t exist.

Pain stemmed from the present, and its roots were buried in the past. Regrets, shame, humiliation— you’d known a time when these were a staple in everyday life. They weren’t questioned, they just were. Rash decisions made in the heat of the moment spilt regret down the back of your throat like bile, memories of past shames and frustrations fed the fire that made its home in your abdomen in the present. How ironic, that it was in memories solace was eventually found.

MemTech. It had been revolutionary, ground-breaking technology. Human beings weren’t always the strongest of species— flight would almost always take precedence over fight, when the situation stemmed from actions of their own doing. Problems, were difficult—pain, was difficult, and pain was scary. Pain elicited a fight or flight response.

When faced with the option of dealing with the pain of the present or fleeing to the solace of the past, it wasn’t a very difficult decision for most. MemTech offered peace, relief. Humans of the future escaped the pain of the present by living in the pleasures of the past.

Memories were a drug. Why would anyone ever return to the present, ever choose pain, when they could spend their days reliving the best times of their past? MemTech offered that. You could relive your best memories, the ones you remembered most, and the ones you’d almost forgotten. In the future, pain was a choice— and so pain didn’t exist.

If you had to think of your favourite memory, it wouldn’t take you long at all to choose.

A car trip, months in the making and planned meticulously— and yet, you were still running behind schedule and Yoongi’s foot was heavy on the pedal as you blazed along the highway. The summer air was beginning to bleed into autumn crisp, and it was on the coattails of summer that you had scheduled your camping trip.

“y/n put the window down, it’s too hot in here!”

If youth were to take physical form, you didn’t doubt that youth would be Jungkook. His voice graced your ears with the freshness of spring and the fluidity of a river flush from the monsoons. Jungkook was one of the people most precious to you, but that didn’t stop you from turning and poking your tongue out at him in retaliation.

“I’m not putting the window down, the wind will mess up my hair!”

Jungkook had adopted an expression of pure disbelief, but the two squished into the backseat beside him had howled with laughter. Taehyung, a true testament to the phrase ‘life imitates art’, leant against a cackling Jimin for support as he wheezed. Jungkook’s expression hadn’t been the funniest thing you’d all been witness to, but in the excitement, the pure, unadulterated elation buzzing in the air, anything and everything was hilarious to them. Laughter fuelled the light in the air, the joy in your hearts. You’d spent the previous months hard at work and now it was time to reward yourselves by truly letting go, feeling the joy and the happiness that came hand-in-hand with being free, if even just for a moment.

Jungkook launched into a heavy protest at your refusal to bow to his puppy eyes, the backseat a lively mess of laughter and whines against the loud rush of wind from the windows. Yoongi, the barest traces of a smile curling his kitten lips, wordlessly wound his window down completely and at once Jungkook’s complaints cut off as a satisfied sigh escaped his lungs and cool air blasted against his face.

As if he protests hadn’t been enough, the image of the youngest sporting a face of bliss as his hair was whipped violently around him was enough to send the other two filling the backseat into another fit of laughter. The warmth was contagious, the freedom that came from allowing laughter to build in your chest and tumble from your lips unchecked too tempting to resist as your own giggles joined the ridiculous cacophony. The car was filled with a symphony of your joy, the sound of your youth welling from within and compelling even Yoongi to join your antics. This moment, you had decided right then and there, would be your happiest memory.

And it was.

Filled with the excitement of the weekend to come, the experiences to be had and the memories to be made with your best friends, and surrounded by mirth and joy that accompanied the freedom carried on fresh summer air, there was no room for pain. There was no room for worries, for sadness, for hurt. It was the purest moment, your happiest memory.

In the future, the pain that had been entwined so deeply in the life of the present, didn’t exist. People didn’t choose pain, they abandoned it, and in the process, they abandoned life.

How was it truly living when you spent each moment running from the present? Fleeing to the past as an escape, but not the past you’d lived— a different past, a selective remake of only your happiest memories and highest times. MemTech offered that escape, and only a fool refused. To live meant to be in the present, and in the future, no one was truly alive.

But you had tasted life before the time of MemTech. You’d tasted pain, sampled agony and savoured happiness. You knew what it felt like to live in the present, to feel alive. And living in a rose-coloured revision of the past, you’d never felt so dead.

You had remembered your happiest memory, had watched it pass once more before your very eyes, and you knew that you’d reached the point where your happiest memory had ended. You knew you should press the large button on your device, should return to the world of the living before your knees grew damp and soiled from the dewy grass beneath, but you couldn’t urge your finger to shift, your thumb to press. There was no pain in the future, pain was a choice. You should be choosing to turn off your MemTech device.

But you couldn’t, and life began to breathe back into your lungs as the memory continued to play. You should have stopped it, should have withdrawn while you still could.

Your camping trip was to be spent in the forest, on a camping ground nestled within a set of mountains. The road was known to grow winding at times, but the early-morning light should have been enough, should have offered perfect visibility as you rounded jagged mountain faces and climbed higher and higher up the side of the landmark.

It should have.

There were many things, however, that shouldn’t have been.

You’d departed behind schedule, but it was still outrageously early in the morning. Heat was barely beginning to set in, and as the suns rays began to beat against the bitumen the moisture of the night just passed began to rise as mist. It wasn’t a clear day, and as you began to climb the mountain, you soon discovered the low clouds that remained hidden from view.

When the fog that shouldn’t have been there began to appear, you shouldn’t have ignored it. When it began to thicken and visibility was reduced to a mere metre or so in front of you, you should have reminded Yoongi gently to be careful. You shouldn’t have told him, “Yah, slow down, you’re going too fast”, because maybe then he wouldn’t have grown frustrated at your comment, “y/n, don’t backseat drive, I know what I’m doing”. He was a skilled driver, and he didn’t need reminding, but as he shifted gears to accommodate for the circumstances that shouldn’t have been, the car was thrust into a moment of vulnerability.

And now, of course, you knew how potent a moment could be.

Tears stung your eyes— was it now, or then? Were the tears slipping over your cheeks a phantom of the past, or a remnant of the present?— and you wanted so badly to close them, but when you’d come seeking a memory to escape the present, you were unable to escape the past.

All the lights in the world wouldn’t have let you see the large water truck careening down the winding road of the mountain, and if you’d managed to glimpse it a mere second before you had, what could you have done? Grey flashed before your eyes and there was a loud sound, a screaming sound that ripped your heart in two and tore your soul asunder as your entire being was swallowed whole in the unforgiving, icy abyss of fear. The summer air that had caressed you so gently before now whipped you about like a broken doll, metal tearing and groaning and the railing alongside the road giving way beneath the weight of two vehicles. Tumbling, crashing, screaming— tears spilt down your cheeks without restraint and you knew now that they were rooted in the present. There had been no room for pain in that moment, after all.

You didn’t know when it stopped, this was where your memory grew vague. MemTech could not patch holes with memories that didn’t exist. When your eyes reopened and your lungs were freed from the suffocating weight of an ocean of fear, it was still. There was no fog where you were, and the sun beat down against your face a moment too late. Your joy, your elation, your freedom— it all made way for red.

And now, it made way for pain.

You tore the device from your head, finding that your face wasn’t just wet from hot, scalding tears, but from rain that had begun to fall while you were too distracted to notice. Your knees were wet, pants soiled from the earth that was now more damp than it had been when you arrived. It wasn’t emptiness you felt as your eyes fell upon the headstones before you, laid neatly in a row, it wasn’t death that filled your lungs. It was pain, hot and agonising and excruciating that burned you from the inside out. The death you’d grown accustomed to feeling was no longer within you, but around you. Even with the MemTech device removed from you head, you were surrounded by your past, and even in the future as you were, you were filled with the pain of the present. You choked, gasped, lungs filling to the brim with a sensation you’d fled from for so long, a sensation you’d deprived yourself from feeling. In the future, pain didn’t exist. Pain was a choice.

And now as it trembled along your limbs, throbbed within your head and tore into your heart, it was something you chose to feel alive. In the future, pain didn’t exist. But this was your present, and faced with the memories of your past—

Pain was inescapable.

[brainynbright]

Experience the Ultimate Summer Adventure at Brainy n Bright's Summer Camps in Dubai!

Find the perfect blend of fun and learning at Brainy n Bright's Summer Camps in Dubai! Our camps offer a STEM-focused curriculum designed to ignite creativity and innovation in young minds. With experienced instructors, interactive activities, and state-of-the-art facilities, children can explore robotics, game development, AI, and more. Join us for a summer full of critical thinking, problem-solving, and unforgettable memories. Enroll now for weekly, monthly, or full-summer sessions!

[missbitatuva]

#SIGCSE2017 Reflections

Mark Sherriff, UVA CS professor, recommended SIGCSE to Zach and I as a great opportunity to tap into CS education at it’s best and he wasn’t wrong. It’s been awhile since I’ve been “just an attendee” at a conference and I must admit I really enjoyed the less stress, more learning opportunity feeling. For me the experience started off on just the right note with Gail Chapman’s keynote. She’s one of my CS edu heroines as a part of Exploring Computer Science. I share many hopes for the future of CS education and frustrations with its current reality with Gail. Here are some thoughts from her talk that resonated with me:

Learning is a uniquely personal experience. How we teach matters. Students need choice of the context, not just the interest of the teacher.

Tool after tool, language after language - what do I remember, I remember how to solve problems.

Rigor is often equated with harder code, teaching the same thing in a different language. It should be about solving problems.

Whether students build it or not, they need to engage in conversations about how tech is affecting their lives.

To date, CS has not been the great equalizer we hoped it would be. Providing new tools and not changing what we teach, just perpetuates inequities.

Make CS required and we think we’re done. It’s not enough to provide access, it’s about what happens in those classes, whose voices are we listening to.

We don’t have any idea of where CS will be in 20 years, not even 5 years.

Therefore, we continue to have a chicken & egg problem, how can you teach it well, if you don’t know what it is?

CSK8

A Literature Review through the Lens of Computer Science Learning Goals

This literature review compared CS learning goals that have been theorized as important vs. what is actually being done by students in K-8 classrooms.

Matched goals:

implementing code - natural language to coding language

evaluating solutions - efficiency

matching problems to solutions - identifying patterns & algorithms

code reading - interpreting

abstracting away details 

conditionals and flow of control

loops

variables, data structure & input

Unmatched goals:

designing solutions

using computational tools

matching problems to devices

To me the matched vs. unmatched goals could also relate to standalone CS vs. integrated/applied CS education. The unmatched goals are also the more open-ended ones that I think increase student engagement, but are more challenging to assess.

Arts Coding for Social Good: A Pilot Project for Middle-School Outreach

A group of students at Grinnell College wanted to explore whether introducing CS early to underrepresented students would increase their self-efficacy towards computing. They created a summer camp to explore this question. What they learned after their first year:

making tech camp more inclusive - offer early drop-off & late pick-up, low fee/subsidize, lunch & snacks included, all tools freely available

tech camp surprises? kids have opinions & want to share; some kids just want to code; rename code camp because it limits girls interest

CSDiversity

Diversity Barriers in K–12 Computer Science Education

What are some barriers?

learning curve, accessibility, structural change in school

interest in CS is correlated with teacher/parent recommendation, confidence & envisioning a job in CS

twice as many girls as boys say they are NOT AT ALL interested in studying CS

black & hispanic students are more likely to learn CS outside of the classroom in after-school clubs or groups

31% of girls say they NEVER see someone in the media doing CS who represents them

What are some barrier interventions:

move from lecture to active learning

culturally responsive teaching through POGIL (Process Oriented Guided Inquiry Learning)

using browser-based computing tools is important for equity

ask students to reflect on their work & to give you feedback on which assignments resonate with them

There are many awesome resources shared in the TIDES: Teaching to Increase for Diversity & Equity in STEM presentation. Unfortunately this program is no longer running.

CS4All

Mitch Resnick, another CS edu hero of mine, shared the impact of Seymour Papert’s legacy on the work at the MIT Media Lab, Lego Education & beyond.

Interested in Class, but Not in the Hallway

What are the goals for #CS4All?

program implementation

teacher training

student tracking

longitudinal lens

student assessment

How student interest impacts CS edu?

interest is not a binary switch - situational interest (prompted by a place or environment) & individual interest (brought into environment by individual)

within there is triggered interest (engagement of a person with the domain) & sustained interest (ongoing, long-term seeking of activities over time)

move from triggered interest to more sustained individual interest

Designing and Developing A Modern K–12 CS Framework

#CS4All is at it’s heart, an education reform movement

why do I have to learn this (loops, conditions, fill-in-the blank standard)? the K-12 CS framework provides the answer

diversity is built into the framework

How to Plan & Run Effective Teacher Professional Development Finally on Saturday afternoon, I attended a train-the-trainer workshop facilitated by Barbara Ericsson (another CS heroine) & Ria Galanos (a new CS heroine). They provided a wealth of information in an easily digestible format. The timing couldn’t be better as we prepare to launch Learn to Learn IV: CS Institute this summer at STAB.

It was also fun to meet some folks in person who inspire me on twitter: @DuPriestMath (CS educator, read her SIGCSE reflections), @lsudol (CS edu advocate), @zgalant (co-founder of @CodeHS), & @MrYongpradit (Chief Academy Office at code.org).

[brainynbright]

Summer Camps in Dubai - Brainy n Bright

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[brainynbright]

Exploring Brainy n Bright’s Innovative Summer Camps in Dubai

Unleash Your Child's Potential with Brainy n Bright

Summer camps are an incredible way to combine learning and fun, and Brainy n Bright's summer camps in Dubai stand out as a premier choice for parents looking to enrich their children's summer experience. With a focus on STEM (Science, Technology, Engineering, and Mathematics) education, Brainy n Bright offers a unique blend of innovative programs designed to foster creativity, critical thinking, and a love for learning in young minds.

Why Brainy n Bright is the Best Choice for Summer Camps in Dubai

Cutting-Edge STEM Curriculum: At Brainy n Bright, the summer camp curriculum is designed to provide a robust STEM education. The programs are crafted to be both educational and enjoyable, ensuring that children stay engaged and enthusiastic about learning.

Expert Instructors: Brainy n Bright prides itself on its team of experienced and passionate instructors. These educators are committed to delivering top-quality educational experiences and are adept at making complex concepts accessible and exciting for young learners.

Hands-On Learning Environment: Learning at Brainy n Bright is an interactive and immersive experience. The camps emphasize hands-on activities, encouraging students to apply theoretical knowledge through practical projects and experiments.

State-of-the-Art Facilities: The camp facilities are equipped with the latest technology and educational tools. From advanced robotics kits to cutting-edge computer labs, Brainy n Bright ensures that students have access to the best resources available.

Engaging and Diverse Activities: The summer camps are filled with a variety of activities that blend learning with fun. These activities are designed to promote socialization, teamwork, and problem-solving skills, ensuring a comprehensive developmental experience.

Exciting Programs Offered at Brainy n Bright

Brainy n Bright offers a wide range of programs tailored to different age groups and interests, ensuring that there is something for every child:

Young Innovator Program: This program is ideal for budding inventors and young scientists. It encourages children to think creatively and develop innovative solutions to real-world problems through hands-on projects and experiments.

Tech Innovator Program: Designed for tech enthusiasts, this program delves into the world of technology and programming. Children learn to code, build apps, and explore various aspects of computer science, equipping them with essential skills for the digital age.

Industrial AI Robotics: This advanced program introduces students to robotics and artificial intelligence. Through engaging projects, students learn to design, build, and program robots, gaining insights into the future of technology and automation.

Game Development - Junior and Senior Levels: For aspiring game developers, Brainy n Bright offers specialized programs for both junior and senior levels. Students learn the fundamentals of game development, from concept creation to coding and testing, and get to create their games.

STEM Activities: The camp offers a wide range of STEM activities that cater to different age groups and skill levels. These activities are designed to be fun and educational, helping children develop a love for science, technology, engineering, and mathematics.

The Brainy n Bright Advantage

One of the standout features of Brainy n Bright’s summer camps is the continuous updating of their curriculum to reflect the latest advancements in STEM. This ensures that students are not only learning current concepts but are also being prepared for future developments in these fields. The camp's focus on real-world relevance helps students understand the practical applications of their learning, making it more meaningful and impactful.

Moreover, Brainy n Bright places a strong emphasis on developing soft skills such as critical thinking, problem-solving, teamwork, and communication. These skills are essential for success in any field and are integrated into the camp’s activities and projects. By fostering these skills, Brainy n Bright helps students become well-rounded individuals ready to tackle future challenges.

Enroll Your Child Today!

Don’t miss out on the opportunity to provide your child with a summer full of learning, fun, and growth. Enroll them in Brainy n Bright’s summer camps and watch them develop new skills, make new friends, and create lasting memories. For more information and to register, visit Brainy n Bright Summer Camp.

Brainy n Bright’s summer camps in Dubai are more than just a way to keep children occupied during the summer. They are a gateway to a world of exploration, creativity, and innovation. By blending education with fun, Brainy n Bright ensures that every child has a summer to remember, filled with opportunities to grow, learn, and thrive. Whether your child is a budding scientist, a tech enthusiast, or a future game developer, Brainy n Bright has a program that will ignite their passion and set them on a path to success.

Beyond the Classroom: Building Lifelong Skills

At Brainy n Bright, the focus extends beyond academic learning. The summer camps are designed to nurture a child's overall development, including social, emotional, and cognitive growth. The collaborative nature of the activities encourages children to work together, fostering teamwork and communication skills. This holistic approach ensures that students are not only academically prepared but also equipped with the essential life skills needed to navigate the future confidently.

Fun-Filled Learning: Making Education Enjoyable

One of the core philosophies at Brainy n Bright is that learning should be enjoyable. The camp activities are designed to be fun and engaging, ensuring that children look forward to each day with enthusiasm. By integrating play with education, Brainy n Bright creates an environment where children are motivated to learn and explore new concepts. This approach helps in building a positive attitude towards learning, which can have a lasting impact on a child’s educational journey.

Preparing for the Future: STEM Education at Its Best

In today's rapidly evolving world, a strong foundation in STEM is crucial for future success. Brainy n Bright’s summer camps are dedicated to providing children with the skills and knowledge they need to excel in these fields. The programs are designed to be forward-thinking, incorporating the latest trends and advancements in STEM education. This ensures that students are not only keeping up with current developments but are also prepared for future challenges and opportunities.

A Community of Learners: Building Friendships and Networks

Brainy n Bright’s summer camps also allow children to build lasting friendships and networks. The collaborative projects and group activities help students connect with like-minded peers, creating a supportive and inspiring community of learners. These relationships can be invaluable, providing children with a network of friends who share their interests and passions.

Join the Brainy n Bright Family

Becoming a part of Brainy n Bright’s summer camps means joining a family dedicated to nurturing and empowering young minds. The camps are more than just a series of activities; they are an experience that shapes how children view learning and their potential. By enrolling your child in Brainy n Bright, you are giving them the gift of an unforgettable summer filled with knowledge, creativity, and growth.

For more details and to secure a spot for your child, visit Brainy n Bright Summer Camp today. Don’t miss this chance to make your child’s summer extraordinary with Brainy n Bright!