#g is for gadgets and gimmicks

[ygo-monster-type-tournament]

in case you were wondering, this is the current list of archetypes for the upcoming archetype tournament.

please note that the tournament won't be for a while, and i will be accepting submissions until then! All submissions will be accepted (as long as the submission is actually an archetype, of course)

A bunch of these are just me putting in every archetype i could think of, and those are the only ones that might end up being removed from this list. If someone specifically submits an archetype, it's in for good.

anyways here is the full list (current number: 220)

@Ignister A.I. Abyss Actor Ally of Justice Altergeist Amazoness Amorphage Anti Arcana Force Armed Dragon Aroma Atlantean Batteryman Battlewasp Beetrooper Black Luster Soldier Blackwing Blue-Eyes Borrel Branded Burning Abyss Bystial CAN:D Charmer Chemicritter Chronomaly Cipher Code Talker Constellar Crusadia Crystal Beast Crystron Cyber Dragon Cynet D/D Danger! Dark Contract Dark Magician Darklord Deskbot Despia Destiny HERO Digital Bug Dinomist Dinowrestler Dogmatika Dracoslayer Dragon Ruler Dragunity Drytron Earthbound Edge Imp Elemental HERO Endymion Evil★Twin Evil Eye Evil HERO Evilswarm Evolsaur Evoltile Evolzar Fabled Fire King Flamvell Floowanderfreeze Fluffal Fortune Fairy Fortune Lady Frightfur Frog Fur Hire G Golem Gaia Galaxy Gadget Gate Guardian Gem-Knight Genex Ghoti Gimmick Puppet Gizmek Gouki Gravekeeper’s Guardian Gusto Heraldic Beast Heroic Hieratic Ice Barrier Icejade Igknight Infernity Infernoid Invoked Kaiju Karakuri Kashtira Koa’ki Meiru Kozmo Krawler Kuriboh Kurikara Labyrinth Laval Live☆Twin Lunalight Lyrilusc Machina Madolche Majespecter Majestic Magikey Magistus Masked HERO Materiactor Mathmech Mayakashi Megalith Mekk-Knight Meklord Melffy Melodious Mermail Metalfoes Morphtronic Naturia Nekroz Nemurelia New Order Ninja Noble Knight Number Numeron Odd-Eyes Ojama Orcust P.U.N.K. Paleozoic Pendulum Magician Performapal Phantom Knights Photon Plunder Patroll Poker Knights Predaplant Prediction Princess Purrely Qliphort Raidraptor Red-Eyes Rescue-ACE Rose Dragon Rikka Ritual Beast Rokket Royal Demon’s Runick Salamangreat Scareclaw Scrap Shaddoll Shiranui Skull Servant Sky Striker Speedroid Spellbook Spright Springans Stardust Starry Knight Steelswarm Subterror Sunavalon Sunseed Sunvine Suship Swordsoul Sylvan Synchron T.G. Tearlaments Tellarknight Thorn Prisoner The Weather Therion Toon Traptrix Transamu Tri-Brigade Trickstar True King Umbral Horror Utopia Vanquish Soul Vaylantz Vendread Vernusylph Vision HERO Voidvelgr Vylon War Rock Watt Wight Wind-Up Windwitch Witchcrafter World Legacy X-Saber Yang Zing Yosenju Zefra Zoodiac ZW -

[globaldigitalsignage]

How to Get the Most out of Digital Signage Solutions?

Digital Signage is constantly evolving, and it can be hard to keep up with the latest trends. But don't worry, we're here to help. 

This article gives you an overview of digital signage, considerations to make when choosing a digital signage solution, and the techniques of how actually other companies use digital signage to promote their businesses. 

What is Digital Signage?

Digital signage is now a common sight in businesses and public spaces. While digital signage was once considered a gimmick, it has now proven its importance as a useful advertising and communication tool. 

Digital signage allows you to send important messages to your customers and also allows you to display marketing materials in different places and at any time. This is a great way to advertise and let customers know about sales, offers, special discounts, and other events.

What is a Signage Network?

Today's digital signage solutions allow businesses to send messages to their audiences from anywhere. 

Whether it's through a TV screen, monitor, or digital billboard, businesses can now make sure they communicate with their audience in a manner that is personal, accurate, and above all else, effective. 

These stand-still boards can navigate customers directly to your shops, provides information, and even continuously display promotional ads continuously so that you can raise your brand value. The most important thing is customers' recall rate is also high.

What are the most common use cases for Digital Signage?

According to a survey held by NSCA with SME owners, 30% of small and medium business owners have increased their revenue through their digital signage solutions. 

There are many aspects to it, and it is a great way to drive business to your company and build your brand. But if you want to attract a maximum number of clients through one single marketing strategy, then the perfect solution for you is Digital signage. 

Because by placing your display board in highly crowded areas, you can definitely expect high walk-ins to your spot.

How do make Digital Signage work for you?

Digital signage technology is changing the way that businesses and organizations work. Digital signage will display things to your customer that you want them to know. 

This technology involves the display of information on distributed display systems, installed in various public spaces. 

For example, you can list the products that you are planning to launch with surprising discount prices and you can also describe your services in brief so that people can know what benefits they can avail from your company.

Use also your Digital Boards  

To display your promotion videos and ads, 

To share your customer reviews, 

To announce special offers and discounts 

Conclusion:

Digital signage can be a great way to ensure that you are getting the most out of your business. 

At G-Gadgets we have developed perfect solutions, suitable for all kinds of businesses. 

We can help you to advertise your products or services via digital signage solutions and take your business to the next stage.

If you have any questions or concerns about your digital signage, please don’t hesitate to contact us anytime at info@ggadgets.co.in 

Thank you for reading!

[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​

[ygo-monster-type-tournament]

i have images for every archetype on the list now, but i lost track of time and ended up staying up way too late. oops.

Don't worry about having missed the submission window or something like that! No matter how many submissions I get, i'll figure out some way to make it work. and once i decide when to stop taking submissions, i'll be sure to make it clear to everyone when that will be ahead of time.

here's the current list, by the way! key: bold: someone has specifically submitted it and it will not be deleted except in special cases italic: i put it in myself and there is the chance it will be deleted to make the number of entrants more convienent Since i copypasted it the formatting may be messed up a bit. sorry.

there's also a document where i keep this info and more up-to-date so check that out

/Assault Mode @Ignister A.I. Abyss Actor Aesir Alien Ally of Justice Altergeist Amazement Amazoness Amorphage Anti Ancient Gear Ancient Warriors Appliancer Arcana Force Armed Dragon Aroma Artifact Arts Angel Atlantean Attraction Batteryman Battleguard Battlin’ Boxer Battlewasp Beast Gear Beetrooper Black Luster Soldier Blackwing Blaze Fiend Blue-Eyes Borrel Branded Bujin Burning Abyss Buster Blader Butterspy Bystial CAN:D Cat (Rush Duel) Charmer Chemicritter Chronomaly Chrysalis Cipher Clear Cloudian Code Talker Codebreaker Constellar Constructor Crusadia Crystal Beast Crystron Cubic Cyber Angel Cyber Dragon Cynet D/D Danger! Dark Contract Dark Magician Dark Scorpion Darklord Deskbot Despia Destiny HERO Destruction Sword Digital Bug Dinomist Dinomorphia Dinowrestler Djinn Dododo Dogmatika Dracoslayer Dracoverlord Dragon Ruler Dragonmaid Dragunity Dream Mirror Drytron Duston Earthbound Edge Imp Eldlitch Elemental HERO Elemental Lord Elementsaber Endymion Entity Evil★Twin Evil Eye Evil HERO Evilswarm Evolsaur Evoltile Evolzar Ewekai Excutie Exodia Exosister F.A. Fabled Fairy Tail Fire Fist Fire Formation Fire King Flamvell Floowandereeze Flower Cardian Fluffal Fortune Fairy Fortune Lady Fossil Frightfur Frog Fur Hire G Golem Gadget Gagaga Gaia Galactica Galaxy Gandora Geargia Gem-Knight Generaider Genex Ghostrick Ghoti Gimmick Puppet Gizmek Gishki Gladiator Beast Gogogo Gold Pride Gorgonic Gouki Goyo Graydle Gravekeeper’s Guardian Gunkan Gusto Harpie Hazy Flame Helixx Heraldic Beast Heroic Hieratic High Tech Dragon Hole Ice Barrier Icejade Igknight Impcantation Infernity Infernoid Infinitrack Invoked Inzektor Iron Chain Jinzo Jointech Junk Jurrac Kaiju Karakuri Kashtira Knightmare Koa’ki Meiru Kozmo Krawler Kuriboh Labyrinth Laval Libromancer Lightsworn Live☆Twin Lunalight Lyrilusc Machina Madolche Magical Musket Magician Girl Magikey Magistus Magnum Overlord Majespecter Majestic Malefic Malicevorous Mannadium Masked HERO Marincess Materiactor Mathmech Mayakashi Megalith Mekk-Knight Meklord Melffy Melodious Mermail Metalfoes Metaphys Mikanko Mist Valley Monarch Morphtronic Music Princess Mythical Beast Myutant Naturia Nekroz Nemeses Nemleria Neo-Spacian Nephthys New Order Ninja Nimble Noble Knight Nordic Number Numeron Odd-Eyes Ogdoadic Ojama Orcust P.U.N.K. Paleozoic Pendulum Magician Penguin Performage Performapal Phantasm Spiral Phantom Beast Phantom Knights Photon Plunder Patroll Poker Knight Prank-Kids Predaplant Prediction Princess Prophecy PSY-Frame Purrely Qliphort Raidraptor Red-Eyes Reptilianne Rescue-ACE Resonator Rikka Ritual Beast Rokket Rose Dragon Royal Rebel’s Runick S-Force Salamangreat Scareclaw Scrap Sevens Road Shaddoll Shadow Flower Shinobird Shiranui Simorgh Six Samurai Sky Striker Skysavior Solfachord Speedroid Spellbook Sportsdragon Spright Springans SPYRAL Star Seraph Stardust Starry Knight Steelswarm Strike Dragon Subterror Sunavalon Super Quant Superheavy Samurai Supreme King Sushi Fairy Swordsoul Sylvan Synchron T.G. Tachyon Talismanic Tearlaments Tellarknight Tenyi Thorn Prisoner The☆ The Agent The Weather Therion Thunder Dragon Time Thief Timelord Tindangle Toon Topologic Traptrix Transamu Tri-Brigade Triamid Trickstar Tron True King True Draco U.A. Ultimate Flag Umbral Horror Unchained Ursarctic Utopia Valkyrie Vampire Vanquish Soul Vaylantz Vehicroid Vendread Vernusylph Virtual World Vision HERO Void Voidvelgr Volcanic Vylon War Rock Warrior Watt Wind-Up Windwitch Witchcrafter World Legacy X-Saber Yang Zing Yosenju Yubel Zefra Zoodiac Zubaba ZW -

[smoakmonster]

G is for Gadgets and Gimmicks {1/3}

A/N: This is what happens when you watch a lot of Hallmark movies: an obligatory bookstore AU with a twist. Based on this prompt (x), in which anti-technology Bookstore Owner meets Computer Geek, and bickering ensues. Enjoy!

Also available: on AO3

***

com∙pro∙mise (n.)

a settlement of differences reached by mutual concession

***

At six minutes to six on Sunday afternoon, the cheap, brass overhead doorbell rings for the first time since noon.

“We'll be closing soon,” Oliver calls from the back corner of the cafe area.

The high-pitched ding is an unwelcome interruption from his crucial task of determining which scones are worth wrapping up and saving for tomorrow morning’s rush hour (at most, twenty-five extra customers beyond his regular clientele) and which ought to be pitched. He starts disposing of the near-burnt scones shoved in the back row. He needs to remember to not let Rene handle any of the baking. That kid would eat rocks if it came down to it.

While Oliver is usually not opposed to whipping up some fresh dough for his customers, he has been on his feet for the last nine hours and would prefer to head home early and maybe catch an hour of television and actually get some of that alleged decent night’s rest everyone’s always telling him he needs. Everyone being mostly Thea and Rene.

Besides, after dumping out ten perfectly charcoaled pocket pastries, he still has a dozen or so left on the tray that are decent enough to sell. He shuffles the most stale pastries towards the front row for his 11AM executive assistant and personal assistant late-breakfast-early-lunch-snack-run personnel from the business tower across the street, those fresh-out-of-grad-school, starry-eyed do-gooders, who are always checking their emails and won’t be able to taste the difference.

He almost had one of those once.

He wonders how much easier his life would be if he had a personal assistant now.

Of course, he’d have to pay said assistant, and he’s not exactly drowning in excess and privilege like he was a decade ago.

He’s the untrained owner of a small bookstore buried in a downtown city. And maintaining a struggling bookstore in a struggling economy is an arduous task at best and a depressing venture at worst. So, most work days are roughly somewhere in between. Mediocre. One day bleeds into the next until he forgets what day of the week it is until he checks the schedule.

When Oliver reads for leisure (ironically, he has very little opportunity to read for leisure), all the startup models and self-help books and even the occasional tycoon novel say the same thing: selling your soul to save your business should feel normal.

Unfortunately, the uncontrollable ingredient in this scheme called bookselling is the market.

He’s lucky if his small store makes it onto the back page of the monthly Starling City Living. Not that anyone buys magazines nowadays. Not that anyone has the time or desire to browse second-hand and third-hand books.

So he does what he can to keep his store afloat, cutting the staff’s hours and preserving day-old pastries and leaving that irritating antique bell afixed over the door. He’s been opposed to the doorbell from the start, but it came with the lease, and Thea thinks it’s good luck and swears it adds to the aesthetic of the place. Rene calls it a gimmick, and Oliver is inclined to agree with him. Nearly everything about this job is a gimmick.

As though on cue, a pair of heels pounds against old wooden floors, signaling the approach of his lone customer and pulling him up from behind the counter.

Oliver pastes on his best Customer Service smile, one truly useful skill he’s acquired thanks to an irregular attendance to dozens of high-end parties growing up. “What can I get for you?”

His smile slips when he sees her.

She, quite literally, takes his breath away.

While her fashion sense screams Complicated Order, she also exudes a soft demeanor and remains fixated on her small infernal device, wearing an adorable furrow between her eyebrows, thumbs flying a mile a minute.

The advantage of unhealthy technological immersion, however, is that it allows him to study her undetected. A Study In Scarlet of his own making.

His gaze travels slowly from her heels and blood-red jacket to her high blonde ponytail and feminine glasses and Neon Pink lipstick that is somehow flattering to her face. She wears so many shades of red that she looks like she escaped from a Valentine’s Day ad. He wonders if she’s one of those poor weekend executive assistants with a propensity for espresso and no social life.

She startles him when she finally looks up from her phone, and he recovers by trying to push one of his socialite smiles back onto his face, though it feels even more fake than usual.

The cute blonde throws out her question before he can repeat is. “Hi, could you tell me what the passcode is for the WiFi?”

What? He blinks. “There is no WiFi here.”

“What?” She sounds horrified, like he’s just told her her dog died. She seems peppy enough to be a dog person.

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand--which, for me is kind of new. How exactly do you expect to run a business in the twenty-first century without accessible WiFi?”

He swallows. She sounds like his landlord. And his sales rep. And pretty much every other millennial who's miraculously managed to glance up from their rectangular deathtraps long enough to wander into this place.

He's annoyed that she's taking their side--and a bit irritated with himself for being attracted to her in the first place.

“Well, if you don’t like it, you can leave.” He doesn’t need the extra five minutes of labor and $3.50 profit her one cup of coffee was going to provide him anyway.

She flinches, and he regrets his gruffness immediately, but it’s too late. Her mouth pops open. She is clearly taken aback, and frankly so is he at his own behavior, that his pride has hurt a stranger and ruined a perfectly good sale.

She blinks a few times and then rallies enough gumption to tilt her chin up at him. “Fine.”

Before he has a chance to apologize, she spins and marches away, her ponytail flapping like a golden military flag. She is three steps from the door when a loud crackle of thunder shakes the room, and the sky opens up, unleashing buckets of water. Sudden gusts of wind begin spraying the rain sideways. The street is a wind tunnel of gushing water.

Oliver groans, moving around the counter to find his visitor in scarlet struggling to unfold her umbrella in as quiet and dignified a manner as possible.

“Your umbrella’s not gonna do you much good in this storm,” Oliver tells her.

Her shoulders tense again, this time with surprise but less agony.

He’s doing better. He can be civilized. He takes a hesitant step closer, softening his voice. “It should pass in a few minutes. Why don’t you grab a seat, and I’ll get you a cup of a coffee?” She shifts uncomfortably, avoiding his eyes. “It’s on the house,” he adds with a twitch of a smile, not that she notices.

She nods. “Thanks.”

The rain does not let up in a few minutes. If anything, it worsens. So Oliver devotes their extra time to concocting a supreme cup of coffee to make his guest feel better. (Any consideration he might have given to save face for the sake of his business is long forgotten.) He froths some half-and-half and at the last second decides to add honey and a sprinkle of cinnamon on top.

“I hope this isn’t too presumptuous,” he says when he reaches the corner chair she’s nestled herself into. “You look like a cream and sugar kind of gal.”

Her eyebrows lift. “Because I wear a skirt?”

“I…” He freezes. He honestly has no idea what to say to that.

She accepts the steaming cup with a teasing smile. “Cream and sugar is perfect. I just wanted to see if I could render you speechless, too.”

“I deserve that.” He crosses his arms and leans against the window, putting a small but safe distance between them.

She takes a few sips, and then her eyebrows pull together. For a second, he’s worried that maybe the milk’s turned sour. But then she says, “Oh wow. This is actually really good--not that...not that I was expecting it to not be good. It’s just it’s so hard to find a decent cup of coffee these days. I don’t really consider myself to be a coffee snob--though, I don’t suppose anyone would consider themselves to be a snob.” She lifts two fingers to make air quotation marks around the word snob. And the way her lips pucker and nose scrunches up makes her seem youthful and winsome.

“But honestly,” she continues, “the coffee at the office tastes like watered-down battery acid, and Starbucks is always so crowded and overpriced, and I’m already behind on this week’s data interface plans and…. I’m sorry. You don’t want to hear all of this.”

His lips twitch. Now that she’s apparently forgiven him, she really is quite the talker, isn’t she? “Actually, it’s kind of nice,” he tells her honestly. “You don’t mind if I start straightening things up? You’re welcome to stay as long as you like.” So what if he doesn't get to watch his hour of television tonight. So what if he doesn’t get to crash early. Sleep is overrated. Isn’t that why he owns a coffee shop?

“Thank you. I could use a break.” She visibly relaxes, sinking deeper into the chair.

“Boss keeping you busy all weekend?” He tilts his head toward the skyscraper across the road.

She hesitates, an uncomfortable look crossing her face. But it vanishes just as quickly. “Um...yes, you could say that.”

They shift into an easy, contended silence, as Oliver organizes the R through T shelf in literary fiction. He may not have finished his degree, but he knows Ra comes before Ru.

Eventually, he asks her about her work, and she chatters away, incessant and vivacious. While a third of what she says goes over his head, Oliver is unsure whether her job in the world of computer science truly is more exciting than his average, analog lifestyle or if she just possesses the natural ability to make everything sound exciting.

“Normally, I don’t like to brag about my job, but this week we have a really big sales pitch to make in front of our board of directors. My team and I have been slaving over this device for weeks, and a lot of company jobs are riding on the design. And I’m the one who’s going to be giving the presentation, and as you can see I tend to ramble….”

It takes him a moment to realize she’s waiting for a response.

“What kind of device is it?” he asks, glancing back over his shoulder to let her know he is fully engaged--or at least, as fully engaged as he can be--in their mostly one-sided conversation. He notices the rain has stopped, but she no longer appears to be in a hurry to leave. Something warm settles in his chest.

“Oh, it’s a, um, biometric chip implant that hopefully can be embedded into any spinal nervous system and help repair paralysis.”

“Wow. Really?”

She shrugs. “That is the plan.”

“And you designed it?” He hops down from the ladder.

“Not me. One of my...colleagues. I’m more of a numbers girl. I do all the back-end coding to support the engineering design. I’m like the Crick to his Watson--though, really, I suppose I’m more of the Rosalind Franklin in this scenario, who was basically cheated out of her Nobel Prize.”

He blinks, feeling like he’s completely lost the trail of her thoughts.

Thankfully, she finishes with, “They discovered DNA.”

He nods once. “Right. I do know what DNA is.”

She smiles brightly, and at once he feels both more foolish and more worthwhile under her scrutiny.

As she begins slowly packing up her things, the Lost Treasures section catches his eye. He picks up the book before he’s really made the conscious choice to do so. “Hey, I don’t know if you like to read or if your boss gives you time to read. I don’t even know if this is something that you would enjoy but…”

Wow, he is failing at this. Has it really been this long since he’s talked to a woman other than his sister about something other than her coffee order? Thea’s voice suddenly fills his head. Geez, Ollie, just spit it out.

He shakes his head, stretching out his hand before he can change his mind. “Here.”

She stands and glances down at the book. Code Girls: The Untold Story of the American Women Code Breakers Who Helped Win World War II.

“It’s a recent acquisition, and what you were talking about made me think about it. I know it’s not the same thing. I mostly read history books myself, and I just thought… You don’t have to read it if you don’t want to. And if you don’t like it, you can always bring it back. No charge.” Does he sound as ridiculous as he feels?

“Oh. Well, and I mean this in the nicest way possible, I’m actually not much of a reader. I mean, other than the occasional novel on my Kindle.”

His hand falls, and he tries to ignore the way his heart pinches strangely at the malicious word kindle. “Oh. Right. Of course.”

“But you did just give me a free cup of what is unquestionably the best coffee I have had in months. The least I can do is pay you for the book.”

She reaches for her wallet, but he stops her. “No, I mean, it was my suggestion so…”

She wears that adorable frown of hers, eyebrows scrunching together. “Last I checked, this is not a library. You’ll never make it if you just keep giving away your product. That’s like Business Management 101.”

He huffs a short laugh. “Consider it an apology. For the way I acted...earlier.”

She finally relents, tucking the book inside her purse. “Okay. But next time, I will be paying for my coffee.” She points a finger at him, silently demanding that he keep up his end of the bargain.

“Next time?” He raises an eyebrow, wishing his heart not to cling to an indifferent promise. She is just being polite, he reminds himself. There is no guarantee he’ll see her again after today.

She tips her head, thoughtful and almost...flirtatious? No. That can’t be it. This is just part of her odd but sweet personality. “Despite your current lack of WiFi, I kind of like it here. This room has a nice, vintage, back-to-the-Victorian-Era ambiance.”

He smiles. If Thea were here she’d be graciously demanding a customer review for their online presence. Maybe he can pitch that as the company slogan at their next staff meeting. Verdant Books: the right place for a nice Victorian Era experience.

“I'm Felicity, by the way.” She holds out her hand to him, and his heart beats a little faster at the way her slender, strong, perfect fingers feel wrapped around his own.

“Felicity.” He likes the sound of her name and the pleasing way his lips and tongue move together to form the word.

Even after their hands go still, she doesn’t pull away, and he doesn’t release her. An amused look crosses her face. “This is the part where you tell me your name,” she whispers playfully.

He clears his throat. “Right. Oliver.”

Is it possible her smile grows, or is he merely imagining things? “Nice to meet you, Oliver. Bookseller and Barista Extraordinaire. By the way, the term barista is not meant to be emasculating at all. It is a compliment of the highest order. If I were a queen, I would dub you Knight of the Java.”

She winces, clearly embarrassed, a blush blooming on her cheeks.

But Oliver laughs, a real, full laugh, something he hasn’t done in a long time. “That’s not a bad title.” Coming from anyone else, the title would have sounded cheap, like one of those paranormal teen books Thea is always pestering him to try. But coming from Felicity, the title adds another facet to her intriguing, gemmed character. After all, some titles are misleading; some titles are commemorative; and some titles are significant just by who their author is.

***

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[ikacprzak]

Syndrome Is Utterly Unsympathetic

I don't buy into the idea that The Incredibles is objectivist for a lot of reasons, but I found a good comment on Cracked that I think articulates a lot of ideas about this. 

 Dunno, you guys... Ask yourselves this: Would Mr. Incredible have taken young Syndrome up on his offer to be a sidekick if his abilities were superhuman rather than tech-based? I don't think so. He was young, inexperienced and his inventions were kinda rickety-looking and unproven. These are all terrible attributes for a combat mate. Maybe he should've been nice to the kid, but how else are you gonna deal with a fanboy? Look, many of us give Batman grief for taking a young side-kick into extremely dangerous situations, and they tend to end TERRIBLY. That's why you don't bring an underage fanboy with you on missions. You bring Samuel "Motherfucking Frozone" Jackson. Also, it's not like he dismisses tech. His car has gadgets, and he's friends with Edna Mode, who is arguably also a technologist. He probably can't be anti-tech when his own wife is clearly a military-trained pilot. And the funny thing is, he gets so bitter and vengeful so damn fast. One rejection, insta-villainy. You'd think he'd at least try being a hero on his own if he got rejected. Or find another hero to approach as a mentor. Or maybe go to a superhero and offer his gadgets going "look, I know you don't want side-kicks, but at least try out a gadget or two and if you think they're good, there's plenty where that came from". You start out as a junior Lucious Fox, maybe apprentice with Edna Mode. If you train well enough, you might become a Batman. s**t, he was already a millionaire. Why not? But no, he gives up on heroism immediately after one rejection. Instant life-changing nerd-rage. Syndrome isn't some misunderstood anti-villain that labours under the weight of his own dwindling humanity, like Mr. Freeze. He's not a vengeful victim of oppression who's worst enemy is his best friend, like Magneto. He's just a narcissistic p***k that gets brownie sympathy points for being a geek, who'd jeopardize an entire city and kill off countless heroes because of his need for a power fantasy, so he can be a hero and bask in all of the adoration and attention it'll bring. And in the end, why even bother? Superheroes got outlawed. He already had his revenge. The superheroes that turned their backs on him were forced into a mundane existence, like the ending in Goodfellas. Hell, it was Mr. Incredible himself that made this happen! He then got to be a wealthy millionaire. And yet, after this his first impulse is to create an artificial threat, just so that heroes are needed again, but just so long as he's the only one who gets to beat it. Even though he says he wants to make everybody super-powered in order to make superheroes less special, he seems to only do it for himself. I don't see a Syndrome crew. Just him. And in the end, while the tech he wants to give ordinary people will end up with everyone, this must eventually include other sociopaths, criminals, the darker elements of the government and possibly even foreign dictators. He's not trying to democratize super-powers. He's just a glorified arms merchant. Him trying to defeat his own giant death-bot feels like a cynical marketing gimmick, except that he can't even manage to do that in the end. The delicious irony is that he created a robot really good at defeating heroes *even though that's what he was trying to become*, and then got defeated. Clearly, he's brilliant and talented. So much so he was capable of defeating himself, because narcissism makes you blind to hubris. At least with Ironman, this central irony was turned into kind of a redemption tale, with Tony Start constantly having to fight against people he had a hand in creating. Also, I don't think the Incredibles is some Randian manifesto prancing around in spandex. At least it's not very consistent about it. Syndrome is the industrialist here with the chip on his shoulder. He might accuse superheroes of elitism, but he clearly thinks he's special enough to be hero because he's smart, despite being being a murderer with no regard for human life, even that of his girlfriend who's life he gambled with. s**t, he's the one that almost got monologing like Galt himself. Meanwhile, Mr. Incredible is working as an insurance adjuster, teaching people how to game his company's own system. If that isn't charity, I don't know what is. Here's what I think The Incredible's real message is: It's a "fuck you" message. It takes a villain based on a certain kind of comic book fan, the "clingy complaining dipshits who will never ever be grateful for any concession you make" (as Yahtzee puts it), that are the worst, most entitled, most obnoxious of geeks and nerds, and then punishes him for wearing a cape. That's rather symbolic in its irony.This is why I think it's essentially a middle finger to the worst of the superhero fanbase. Watchmen deconstructed the comic book. The Incredibles lampooned the toxic fanboy. I know, I know. Shit's too long. But I had to get these thoughts off my chest. I have similar thoughts about Wong's treatment of Toy Story 3, and disagree with his interpretation of Life of Pi, but g*******t it'll take all night.

[desmondmuench5-blog]

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[raymondtroelsen10-blog]

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Vigor Blast

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