#i just.. i like the breeze color scheme okay. and the model and kind of everything about it. i couldnt not take this prompt

[melon-official]

thx @aresonist (+ @tibbycaps + @vexdraticc ) for curing my artblock with a funny video. the breezerrrrrrr

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Beyond the Coming Age of Networked MatterBy Bruce Sterling

I wasn’t too chuffed about the weird changes I saw in my favorite start-up guy. Crawferd was a techie I knew from my circuit: GE Industrial Internet, IBM Smart Cities, the Internet-of-Things in Hackney hackathons. The kind of guy I thought I understood.

I relied on Crawferd to deliver an out-there networked-matter pitch to my potential investors. He was great at this, since he was imaginative, inventive, fearless, tireless, and he had no formal education. Crawferd wore unlaced Converse shoes and a lot of Armani. He had all the bumbling sincerity of a Twitter Arab Spring.

Crawferd could see no difference between physics and metaphysics. The way he had it figured, all matter was code. If you suggested that his trippy hacker mysticism was not entirely plausible—that rocks were rocks and trees were trees, they weren’t “networks”— he’d brood at length, then chase you from the hackerspace, slam the door, and blog compulsively.

Given his deep unworldliness and his intense interior life, Crawferd was a pretty easy guy for me to manage. We got along okay, while Sophia and Fatima totally loved Crawferd. S&F were my two wealthy oil widows from Dubai. Their Gulf State pin money had to go somewhere that wasn’t Cyprus or Bitcoins.

So for a while things were cozy. I’d arrange funding brunches in Gstaad, where Fatima and Sophia went skiing. I’d wheel in Mr. California Ideology while they had their mint tea and shared the hookah. The sparks would fly.

Crawferd was cool about Sophia and Fatima. He never asked them for much, and he always brought them nifty digital fitness toys. All tech chicks kind of dug Crawferd. He had this spooky geek tenderness, a possibly sensual, my bits-might-turn-to-atoms thing going on.

So S&F hung on his every word, but the truth was, the guy simply didn’t know how to cash in. He was all sci-fi and no megacorp.

Then he missed a couple of gigs and he stopped updating on LinkedIn. I was busy helping Microsoft waste some Kinect money, so I didn’t bother him.

Then I breezed through Palo Alto and he spotted me on Foursquare. He shot me a mysterious, incoherent SMS full of sick Tweet orthographics. “W3 sh4ll overl4p time, space, and dimensions,

and with0ut bodily motion, peer to the .”

I got rid of that thing pronto. I always erase after reading, my lawyer taught me that. But seeing his freaked message, I took good care to meet him F2F.

Crawferd was lurking and had gone very downside-scenario. He had tinfoiled all the windows inside a nameless AirBnB, which he’d rented from some shivering TumblrGoth who was way into, like, black candles, inverted pentagrams, and big plastic 3Dprinted gargoyles.

Fancy LED lights in Shapeways Nervous-System lamps were segueing through every color in the spectrum, while Soundcloud was streaming the shriekiest works of Grimes.

This was not his customary scene, and I further perceived that my man Crawferd had shed several kilos, dyed his hair pastel, and failed to shave. He kept compulsively stroking the filthy screen of his Chinese-knockoff fondleslab.

“Buzz, old buddy,” he croaked at me, “it used to upset me, because I couldn’t deliver a massive breakthrough in the networked- matter space. I talked a great game sometimes. But I couldn’t execute. But now I’m so freaked out! Yes! Freaky from success! I have networked matter!”

Crawferd had this thousand-mile killer-drone stare now, and also that rigid, pedantic, coder tone of voice, that grammar-nazi thing you see mostly on Ayn Rand websites.

My deliverable seemed clear to me: reduce fever, resume chill, and restore functionality.

“Crawferd, pal, listen up. You’ve been way overdoing it in an overheated tech scene. I’ve got your back, and I’m thinking Oahu. There’s this cool yoga-hula ashram out there, no Internet connectivity, no cell-phone bars, nothing. Some exercise, brown rice, and vitamin B, and you’ll be the old Crawferd in no time.”

“Buzz, this matter is about matter. We see matter because we’re constructed from matter. We imagine we’re made from matter because all we can measure with our network sensors is a narrowly materialistic set of inputs. But that is not the cosmic truth, Buzz. A new science underlies ‘matter.’ It’s about a cellular- automata framework in which all material manifestations are computationally equivalent.”

I’d seen these sad symptoms in other guys like him. My fave Californian tech boy had gone straight off the ledge into full Erik Davis techgnosis. “Oahu’s just hours away. Beaches, blue sky, maybe a sweet, understanding hippie lady with some pakalolo.”

“I have found the grail for the coming age of networked matter, Buzz. I have seized its Philosopher’s Stone. I have found a way to transform all matter into network.”

“Why?” I said.

He got that look on his face. “What do you mean, ‘why’?”

“Where is my user benefit? Where is the business model? You can’t get VC backers for that scheme! That is pure Tim Leary mystic woo-woo! You’re a coder, Crawferd. I can hear crap like that from L.A. screenwriters.”

“Do I look like I’m handwaving at you? I have built a freaking demo! I can run it for you, right here, off my phablet.”

Crawferd was a proud and touchy fanatic, but then again, so was Steve Jobs. You can take one fatal step too far into the Reality Distortion Field, and all the typewriters will vanish. They don’t come back, either. “So, what does your demo, uh, demo?”

“You remember those two Maker kids? The ones I had hacking those beehives for me?”

I remembered his interns, all right. Two cute Millennial designer kids. Their names escaped me, but she was, like, very Kevin Kelly techno-emergence, while he was very Jussi Parikka insect media. They were Crawferd’s start-up slaves. Being Makers, they worked around the clock without a salary, just like bees did.

“Your beehive kids,” I said.

“Great design research team! They went deep into the bee ‘umwelt,’ that sensory world of bees that only bees can perceive. Bees are intensely illustrative of matter-networking principles. Bees scarcely have brains, yet they still assemble and congeal all the nectar and pollen within a given area.”

“So that’s your demo? It’s bees? Cut to the chase! Where’s the humming and stinging?”

“That’s not my demo yet . . . but here, look what they did on

Kickstarter. You’ll appreciate this.”

Crawferd caressed his cruddy little “phablet”—man, I really hate that word—and there they were, Crawferd’s two favorite Maker kids. Nicely dressed up in black and yellow bee-themed cosplay duds, with that embedded video that crowdfunding projects always do.

“Hi there, people of the Internet! I’m Adrienne, a graphic interface designer from Rocky Mountain College of Art and Design, and this is Julio, my coder and Significant Other!”

There followed ninety seconds of jerky handheld from Adrienne’s iPhone. Her pitch was all about the graphic interfaces through which bees perceive and manipulate matter. Bee sensors, mostly, their compound eyes, antennae, and their big tonguey mandibles.

Then Julio horned in, to vlog about the bee-code running on their tiny bee brains.

Bee brains lacked much processing power. Just enough hardware in there to run a high-level bee-dance language where the bees could clue each other in about tasty matter resources. Adrienne had mocked this system up on a whiteboard with boxes and arrows. Julio had coded it with open-source modules.

Then they’d created these 3Dprinted plastic “bee puppets.” Their fake plastic Maker bees were, like, awesomely effective at bee dancing. Their robot bees, set dancing by Arduino, were basically Trojan Bees. They had gotten root in the hive. They had powned the hive colony superorganism. Those bees would do whatever the hackers wanted.

“Their bee-swarm pitch is out of this world!” I told Crawferd. “I can’t believe I haven’t seen this idea before!”

The Maker kids ramped up to their triumphant climax. Being new to California, they’d noticed all the window-box marijuana plants. They’d hacked their bees to go out to forage for dope pollen.

They showed the camera their existence proof: a double fistful of honey-drenched Silicon Valley hashish.

Then little Adrienne and Julio modestly asked the public for twenty grand to go 3Dprint some beehives, so they could issue some royal-jelly marijuana prescriptions. A business-model screwup that was total facepalm. Of course their Kickstarter had exploded. Just gone ballistic. It had blown past twelve million USD in capital and was heading north at high speed.

“You have created a monster,” I told Crawferd. “I can see why you’re so upset now. This is not even funny. Where are those crazy kids? They’re gonna need to lawyer up.”

“They’re no longer with me,” muttered Crawferd. “That’s the bad part. That’s why I’m hiding in here.”

“So where’d they run off to?”

Read the rest:

https://boingboing.net/2013/07/16/bruce-sterling-from-beyond.html

[queerdeerskates]

Skating Journal: Days 12-15

OK SO

I was going to buy new skates like two Mondays ago, but the skate shop closes to me is actually closed on Mondays. So between my work schedule and everything I ended up having to wait quite a while before I could go there.

I did go out skating on my Bunnies one more time, but it was mostly just a frustrating experience. there was a mix of bad weather, and also me just not wanting to skate on boots that were too big. I went out for maybe half an hour or so and did my usual forward/backward with limited turning.

I was planning to go to the skate shop last Saturday, but I realized I had another obligation that day - so I ended up leaving work early on Wednesday instead. I got there jst before closing, but the owner was so kind and stayed late to help me. And friends. I purchased. The most gorgeous pair of Riedell Zones I've ever seen in my WHOLE LIFE

RTBH looking at pictures of these skates (it's a Riedell 135 boot on a PowerDyne Thrust plate) I wasn't thrilled with their aesthetics, but the more time I spend with them the more I love their kind of retro look. I do have plans to dye them, but honestly I think they look great as they are, too.

I was also super excited about the wheels. The stock wheels for these skates are Radar Energy wheels with a 57mm diameter, also by Riedell, but I upgraded to the Atom Pulse wheels with a 65mm diameter. Bigger wheels are a bit more stable but less agile - not that I need a ton of agility for my current level. I love how big and squishy they are, and I especially love the color scheme, which matches the dye job I'm planning. The shop owner wasn't sure if she'd be able to find a pink-and-green wheel set, but she found the green Pulses down at the bottom of her pile of wheels. I'm so happy with them!

I've mostly been avoiding skating since then, because I want to dye and seal the suede on my skates before taking them outside. I did two practice sessions in my living room, just going forward and backward across the floor. I'm working towards backwards skating... very slowly. I can do two backwards bubbles in a row on my living room floor (that's as many as I have space for...), but I don't know how that will translate outdoors.

Today I got impatient and decided to go skating outside, and just try and be cautious with the suede. I'm also waiting on a new pair of toe caps, so for the time being I just strapped my Moxi toe caps onto the ends of my skates. I have them laced up fairly loose - they fit pretty well, but I think the wide model may have worked better, and this is the standard-width model. I'm hoping that they'll break in fairly quickly and mould to a good shape for my feet.

Skating in my Zones is really different than in my Bunnies. For one thing, the wheels are SO much nicer. Not only are they bigger and squishier (they're the same durometer rating as the Bunnies wheels, but it's a higher quality material), but they also just roll ebtter. Though I did clean out my previous bearings, I think they were just a little bit old and not as nice as my new ones. The thing is, it's easier to skate and build speed, but it's harder to slow down and stop - so that's something I need to work on relearning.

Dealing with edges is also just way different in these skates. I'm a little bit worried that the width of my feet is causing my weight to be distributed wrong over the plates, because I kept feeling my feet getting pushed inwards as I was skating. I'm hoping it's just something to get used to. And it did get better once I tightened my laces. I also was feeling a little bit of pinching/numbness in my pinky toes, and a little cramping in my right arch, but those went away over the course of the session. I think I'm just a) getting used to new skates and b) getting used to using my skating muscles after being off wheels for a long time.

I had a much easier time doing anything that relied on edges in these skates than I ever did in my Bunnies- bubbles were a breeze, and I was having an okay time working on scissors as well, though that's still a skill/motion that I need to improve on. Turns were SO easy. Even on clockwise turns I had a really easy time just leaning a bit. And I could turn on a much smaller radius, too! In fact, widening my radius proved a bit difficult. So many skills to learn now that I'm on skates that fit & work properly.

I do think there's something a little wonky on my old trucks. Even when they were dangerously loose, they couldn't shift like my Zones can. It might just be that I wasn't able to put weight in the right spot because my feet were too small, but I wonder if it was the cushions, also. Beach Bunnies stock cushions are known to be pretty hard, and these skates were about a year old when I got them. When I pass them on to their next owner, I'll make sure to let them know about my thoughts on that.

At any rate, I had a far easier time on these skates. I was even able to do a little bit of what's called sticky skating, where you're basically creating forward momentum by slaloming back and forth without picking up your feet. This was good, because regular strides made me really fast - faster than I was entirely comfortable with.

I also decided to try skating on the driveway area next to the patio. I did this once on my Bunnies, but it was so bumpy (it's some sort of weird material that's rougher than blacktop) that I couldn't really stay up. It was much easier to roll on with my new skates/wheels. That part of the driveway is on a little incline, and I was too nervous to do any striding, but I was able to coast down it just fine. I know I sound like a total wuss, but the thing is, I'm relearning stops and I don't want to damage my skates by falling. I think I'll be a bit braver after they're dyed and sealed.

I was able to stop by turning onto a different part of the driveway that was much flatter, and then I made my way back up to the patio. I decided to end my skate session there because I was feeling a little tired and a little nervous, and I've got some other stuff to do today.

The other exciting thing today was that I met another roller skater! They showed up near the end of my skate session and were doing their own practice on a different part of the patio. When I was taking off my skates and putting my gear away they came by to say hello. They're a new skater as well. It's exciting to have someone to learn with!

Long story short, I LOVE my new skates, I'm excited to make a new friend, and I va't wait to get out and go skating again!

[quiveringbunny]

Making Merry - An Olicity Holiday Story (G - 1/3)

Hello friends! 

Here is the first chapter of my holiday fic for this year. I hope you enjoy it. Special thanks to the most overqualified and lovely beta imaginable. @tinaday3w, for encouragement and assistance. 

This is chapter 1 of 3. It will be completed by Christmas Eve. It’s a fluffy story. Not my usual tone, but I wanted to do something romantic. 

While you are reading, maybe you want to listen to a new holiday song written and performed by a pal of mine... 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5ScX_QFlNpo

Read on A03. 

CHAPTER ONE: The Tree

Every year, Queen Consolidated, one of the most prosperous companies in Starling City, conducted a holiday fundraiser to benefit after school programs for children in The Glades. The efforts typically ranged from $500-a-plate galas to company raffles.

This year’s scheme, masterminded by Thea Queen herself, was a sale of Christmas trees and greenery. This was how her brother, Oliver, found himself driving a borrowed pick-up truck after work one Friday night several days before Christmas, to deliver a Christmas tree to an employee who lived just on the edge of town.

At first, Oliver groused at the request. Perhaps that was because as the CEO of the company, he thought they “had people” for this kind of chore. But more likely, he was just annoyed because Thea – his only living relative, his baby sister – was not in town herself to oversee the completion of her project. No, she was in some remote part of Switzerland skiing with a young man who looked like a catalog model and she wasn’t going to be home until the day after Christmas. Sure, she had apologized profusely and he knew she was genuinely gutted that transportation was not cooperating.  Oliver even offered the company jet, but Thea insisted it would be wasteful.

“Ollie, use the money we’d spend on a plane and put it towards the afterschool fund. That would be the best Christmas present, really,” she had pleaded via Skype. Thea deployed the eyes then, the ones that looked like they belonged in a Keane painting.

Oliver sighed. “I guess that means I can take back your other presents, Speedy.”

“Other presents?” she chirped, grinning into the phone.

“Maybe,” he said solemnly. Oliver didn’t want to make things too easy.

“Yes!” Thea pumped her delicate fist in the air. “I have presents for you too. And we’ll just spread it out one more day?”

He could hardly begrudge his sister companionship during the holidays. Since they lost their parents, they had drifted together, but holidays were hardest. Each year, without deliberately admitting it, they found reasons to spend Christmas apart. The day was a reminder of loss, more than anything, so individual distractions were preferable to shared pain. To strangers it might have seemed like an odd arrangement, but they were Queens and accustomed to making up their own rules.  

"Okay." He nodded. “Call me on Christmas though?”

“Of course, Brother.” Thea blew him a kiss and then the call terminated.

Oliver rolled his eyes and chuckled at his sister, setting about putting his tablet into the messenger bag that served as his “hipster CEO briefcase.” It had been a gift from his fashionable sibling and he carried it to the office every day.

Just before he closed the flap, Oliver’s tablet lit up again. He dug it out and accepted another call from the younger Queen.

“Yes?” He eyed her with trepidation.

“Ollie, there’s one more thing.” Thea gave him a sweet smile. She even blinked a few extra times to seem more adorable. Oliver grimaced back.

“Just tell me, Thea.”  

“It’s the Holiday Greens sale. I kind of need a big favor tonight.”

And now Oliver was driving down a dark street lined with weathered duplex houses, a 7-foot Douglas fir and stand nestled in the truck bed, gazing at house numbers. Gratefully, there was no one parked in front of 5824. He was able to maneuver Tommy Merlyn’s massive F-150 into the space. He much preferred to drive his own car, but the delivery crew had dispersed and his best friend had kindly stepped up to offer his pickup.  Sort of. Don’t get any tree sap on it, Oliver, he had remarked. It’s a truck, Tommy, he countered, not an Aston Martin. You’re supposed to haul dirt around in it and get it muddy as hell. Tommy smirked. When you get your own truck, you can keep it as filthy as you want.

Soon after, Oliver picked up the tree from a designated area in the Queen Consolidated parking garage. He was grateful for the cover. It was an unusually cold night for Starling City in December and the frigid wind was whipping past the buildings in the business district. He was also grateful that Tommy had left warm gloves and a balaclava on the passenger’s seat following a snowboarding adventure. They were probably Armani, Oliver surmised. Nothing but the best for his friend.

With thoughts of how he would later tease the crap out of his best friend by finding an online photo of a mud-caked truck and sending it to him with an apologetic text, Oliver pulled on the warm wear. It was much colder out now and he still had to wrangle his prickly cargo. Oliver headed to 5826, a printed delivery form clutched in his leather-gloved hand, and knocked after he scaled the stairs and reached the door.

The door opened and a shape was illuminated in the light-filled frame. Then, the shape (his eyes were still adjusting from the brightness) yelped sharply, filling Oliver’s ears. It threw him. He wasn’t expecting that.

“Oh my God!” the figure shouted, then stepped back into the house and slammed the door shut. It didn’t actually hit him in the face, but his eyes registered the breeze as it closed in front of him. Oliver stood there for nearly two minutes trying to process what had just happened. He pulled the order form up to his face and checked the house number again. He was in the right place. He tentatively knocked again. The door did not open.

This time, a small female voice called out, filtered by the wooden door.

“I have the police on speed dial.”

“Really? Speed dial? Most people would just dial 911,” Oliver responded without thinking.  

“I’m not most people. I work with the police. They know me. So, I can contact them whenever I want. Directly. It’s much faster.”

“Wait. I thought you worked at Queen Consolidated.”

“Okay, I’m definitely going to call the cops now, Mister Stalker Home Invader.”

“I have no idea what-“ Oliver was getting exasperated now and Thea was never going to hear the end of it when next he saw her. No good deed goes unpunished, indeed.

It was only then that he touched his head and realized he was wearing Tommy’s designer ski mask. Letting out an exasperated groan, Oliver pulled the garment off and stuffed it in his coat pocket.

“Miss, sorry for freaking you out. I’m here from QC to deliver the Christmas tree you ordered.”

There was a beat. Maybe two. Then he heard the woman’s voice again as it distinctly muttered, "Oh crap."

The door slowly swung open again. This time, Oliver was more prepared for the change in brightness. But he was less prepared for his first real look at the young woman standing inside the entryway. She had wavy blonde hair and…lips. Of course, she had lips. Everybody had lips. But hers were the color of cranberries, he thought. She was wearing glasses. No-nonsense frames that did nothing to make her any less cute. But behind them her brilliant blue eyes looked…puffy. He had seen that look enough on Thea to recognize when a woman had been crying. He must have really scared her.

“I’m really sorry for surprising you like that. I borrowed my friend’s truck to bring your tree and I put his ski mask on because it’s really cold. I don’t even own one of these stupid things. They are pretty creepy, even with a designer label.” Oliver snagged the offending headwear from his pocket and waved it around.

The girl with the azure eyes laughed quietly and tilted her head, sizing him up.  He was more than a head taller than she was and broad in the shoulders. His hair was sitting up a little on top, in disarray from the ski mask. But his eyes were…pretty. Blue. And he had gorgeous eye lashes. A faint shadow of scruff along his jaw, combined with his leather jacket and jeans gave him a sexy tradesman kind of look.

“That was a great ramble,” she volunteered.

For some reason he couldn’t explain, Oliver blushed a little. He didn’t go off like that in front of women, but somehow, with this one, he was already on the ropes. “Sorry.”

“No, it was wonderful. It’s usually me doing that.” She smiled at him, a genuine smile, but it rushed away and her demeanor changed.

“Oh, what am I thinking? Please come in!” She retreated from the door and motioned for Oliver to enter. It was as if there was a string tied between them and he advanced on command. She maneuvered around his large frame and closed the door to stop more chilly air from coming through.

The woman was dressed for serious weekend lounging on this Friday night. A fluffy pink robe. Loose QC t-shirt underneath. Snug-fitting Star Wars leggings tucked into panda slippers. She was kind of adorable. Not the type of woman he usually met these days. They were decidedly…slinkier. Usually clad in sexy designer gowns or club dresses. Truthfully, the harder they appeared to try to get his attention, the less interested he seemed to be. Apparently, he felt more at ease around soft and cuddly. And slightly whimsical.  

“So, you are…” Oliver glanced down at the order form. “Felicity Smoak?”

“Yes,” she responded with deliberate enthusiasm. “That is me.” She began moving, so Oliver trailed behind her into a space that was likely her living room. Oliver tried to school his expression as he surveyed the sparsely appointed room. There was a nice sized TV, a sofa, several lamps, and numerous unopened IKEA furniture boxes scattered around the room. At least two were being used as end tables. No decorations. No paintings or tchotchkes of any kind, but he did notice a box of Kleenex tissues and a menorah. Curious.

“I think it would be nice to put the tree in the bay window. Isn’t that what people do?” Felicity seemed sincerely curious. She also appeared to be fidgeting with her hair a bit, subtly checking on whether it was sticking out. Her skin was creamy except where a handful of freckles dotted her nose and he wanted to count them. Yeah, that didn’t sound creepy at all in his head.

Oliver disengaged from the urge to stare at her by moving to the open space at the window, his eyebrows raised as he surmised the location. “I have definitely seen that done.” He turned around and thought for a moment that Felicity Smoak might have been checking him out while his back was turned. Maybe it was his imagination. Maybe it was his ego. He was wearing one of his favorite pairs of jeans that fit well and the leather jacket Thea assured him was flattering. Suddenly, he hoped she was checking him out. It would make him feel less weird about noticing how attractive she was.  

Felicity definitely looked caught when Oliver turned around, but she tried to cover it. “Great. Let me get my coat and help you bring it in. I know it’s big. I ordered the extra-large one. I liked the idea of having something huge in front of my window.” Felicity was moving toward a door that was most likely her coat closet as Oliver folded his arms across his broad chest and choked on a laugh. There was an implication that he was currently the huge something in front of her window. He didn’t think she realized the gaffe. Then, he watched her reach the closet door knob and he returned to his senses.

“Oh no,” he replied with some urgency. “You should stay here. It’s too cold out for…” Oliver pointed downward with a grin. “Panda bears.”

Felicity glanced at her feet and her eyes went wide with embarrassment. “Oh, my God. I…”

“They look really comfortable. Please stay here and hold the door for me when I come back?”

Oliver headed back toward the front door.

“But I feel bad. You’re not my personal Sherpa.”

“I could be a Sherpa,” he smiled slyly. “You haven’t seen my resume.”

Felicity chuckled.  “Thank you so much. I really do appreciate you doing this.” She followed behind him. Yes, it was a nice view. This Sherpa really knew how to wear jeans.

As Oliver opened the door, he pulled the balaclava out of his pocket. “Just warning you. I’m putting the ski mask back on because it’s cold. You aren’t going to freak out again, are you?”

Felicity responded with a breathy laugh in the doorway. Oliver liked the sound of it and headed across her porch towards the stairs. The cool air made everything seem quieter outside. Peaceful. He liked it.

“Hey, I didn’t get your name,” she called out, watching him descend.

He didn’t even turn around as he reached the sidewalk.

“Oliver Queen.”  

He had to stifle a chuckle when he distinctly heard her gasp behind him.

“Oh crap.”

///--->>>>

The tree looked pretty straight. Not absolutely straight. The trunk was crooked.  The bottom half was perfectly aligned, but things went awry about three feet from the top. Oliver and Felicity both knew this, but neither acknowledged it. They had spent nearly thirty minutes adjusting the Douglas fir monster with Oliver on the floor finessing the trunk in the stand while Felicity provided directional guidance from above. His face was red from effort and the awkward position he had maintained under the bottom branches as he tightened the screws. Several minutes in, Oliver stood momentarily to toss his leather jacket on the sofa because there was unexpected exertion. Felicity uttered no complaints at this development.  

When Felicity came to grips with the fact that she had been ordering the top executive of a Fortune 500 company to scramble around on the floor until he was rendered vaguely less handsome due to the blood rushing to his otherwise perfect face, she announced unqualified success with suitable fanfare. She knew that Oliver knew she was settling, but he appeared grateful to be able to crawl out from under the beast and shake stray needles from his hair.

The tree was, as expected, huge. But it filled the space perfectly. Oliver couldn’t help but recall his childhood and the ornamented wonders that were scattered around the Queen Mansion each holiday.    

“It’s beautiful…” she announced, deliberately avoiding saying his name aloud because…what was she supposed to call her employer? Mister Queen? Sir? She had only been working at QC for a few months and during that time she was either away at a client site or holed up in her office working on cybersecurity algorithms, unaware that this delicious, kind and generous man was right on top of her. Well, not on top of her.  She was under him, really. Oh, dear Lord this was awkward.

Felicity noticed Oliver doing that thing people do with their hands when they feel gross and want to wash them. Of course. He had been wrangling a tree.

“There’s a powder room down the hall, if you would like to clean up,” she offered brightly. Oliver nodded with relief.

“Thanks.”

He moved quickly towards the open door at the end of the hall. The liquid soap was a welcome sight and it lathered up his hands. He hoped it was strong enough to remove the dirt and sap.

“Would you like a coffee? Or cocoa? Or a glass of wine?” He heard her call out. Oliver caught himself smiling in the mirror above the sink.

“Wine would be nice, actually. But only if you have something open,” he replied, loud enough to be heard through the apartment.

Felicity sprang into action, rummaging in the kitchen and pulling a bottle from a low cabinet. She admired the label and decided it was an acceptable wine to offer a guest. Then she quietly loosened the screw top before snagging two wine glasses from another cupboard. She quickly poured a garnet-colored red blend into the first glass and took a few gulps before refilling it and then pouring the second glass. She took breath. It wasn’t weird to be having a glass of wine with Oliver Queen, was it? He was just a person, after all, one who had done a very nice thing for her. And it wasn’t like she could slip him a $10 bill for a tip. That would be weird. No, a glass of wine was appropriate.  

Oliver strode back into the living room with a smile on his face. His hands were no longer dirty and covered with sap. He also managed to get the last of the pine needles out of his hair. Felicity moved around the counter and offered him a glass, which he accepted gratefully. They found seats on the sofa, a healthy distance apart.

“So, I noticed that you have a menorah, Felicity. Is that for your boyfriend?”

The blonde genius tilted her head, suddenly flustered. “No. It’s mine. I mean, I don’t have a boyfriend. Is that…does that answer your question?”

“Good,” he responded without thinking. Then he walked it back. “Now I guess I don’t understand. You’re Jewish, right?”

“Mmm hmm,” she singsonged back before taking a sip from her glass and folding herself comfortably in the corner of the couch to face him.

“But you bought a Christmas tree. Most Jewish people don’t put up trees, do they?”

“I guess not. It just seemed like such a good cause. After school programs. And I thought it would be fun to see what it was like to have a tree. And I have this huge window.”

“Right.” Oliver took a sip of the wine and found it warmed him up a little. Or maybe it was just the company. He wasn’t sure. Didn’t care.

“I was kind of on the fence about it,” she continued. “I mean, I know it’s a wonderful charity. I guess I could have just made a donation. But the sweet young woman who came around with the sign-up sheet was very persuasive.”

Oliver’s sibling spider-sense perked up. “A young woman persuaded you to buy this tree? I’ll bet she was wearing exceptionally nice shoes.”  

“Ohmygodyes. They were boots, actually. Drop dead gorgeous. She just talked about how wonderful they smell…trees, not the boots, and how festive they make everything. And when I mentioned I had never had a tree before, she looked kind of stricken. She had these big green eyes…”

“Oh, I know that look.” Oliver chortled into his glass. Thea was good, but this was a whole new level – selling a 7-foot Christmas tree to a single Jewish woman. This story would be told for years to come. Tommy would love it.

“That sweet young woman is an unrepentant hornswoggler, Felicity. I can say this with love and admiration because she’s my sister, Thea.”

“Oh, Oliver,” Felicity giggled. It was the first time she’d referred to him by name and she immediately regretted letting it slip, burying her head in her lap. Oliver noted her cute mortification and grinned. He liked the way she said “Oliver.”

“Thank you for not calling me Mister Queen.”

Felicity raised her head slowly and met his eyes. They were twinkling. It was kind of hypnotic.

"Okay," she said, returning his smile.

“How long have you worked at Queen Consolidated? I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen you in a meeting or even on the elevator.” I would have noticed you was a phrase that might have hung in the air if he had the courage to say it out loud.

“Are you sure? Maybe I just don’t stand out that much.”  Felicity brought her wine glass up to her lips and took a generous sip.

It was Oliver’s turn to tilt his head in disbelief. Then he playfully tugged on her panda slipper. “Don’t believe that for a second.”

Felicity’s face felt warm all of a sudden. She knew she should speak, but she waited until she was confident her voice would remain…normalish.  

“I started in October. Part of the team that got acquired from Kord Industries. I’m usually off-site. It’s almost a miracle that I was in my office the day your sister came around about the sale. I just stopped in to pick up some hard drives.”

“Right. Okay. That’s why you said you work with the police. The cybersecurity initiative.”

Felicity nodded. “That’s me.”

“Well, I’m really grateful you didn’t call the cops on me earlier. That would have been harsh.”

“You have no idea. Captain Lance and the guys at Headquarters are like my own personal crew of Lost Boys. You’d be in the pokey as we speak.”

Oliver couldn’t help but wince. He had a history dating Captain Lance’s daughters in his high school days. It wasn’t pretty and Lance would like nothing better than to throw him in, to use Felicity’s vernacular, the pokey, and throw away the key.  Felicity noticed his discomfort, but didn’t ask any questions. She just smiled and took another sip of wine. Oliver put his glass down on an IKEA box and turned to face her. His expression was serious now.

“Felicity, I’m really sorry I scared you earlier.”

“Oh, um, Oliver, it wasn’t a big deal. Really it wasn’t.”

“No. It was. I’m pretty sure I made you cry.”

Oliver looked absolutely gutted. Here in front of him was a delightful woman who was making him laugh for the first time in ages and he had freaked her out very badly. Damn Tommy Merlyn and his couture knitwear.  

Felicity was confused at first. Then she connected the dots. Her hand flew up to cover her mouth.

“I did cry earlier. But it wasn’t anything you did. It was before you got here. And it was ridiculous. I was watching a movie. Little Women. Jo just collapsed in front of Marmie and sobbed about not fitting in anywhere and I completely lost it.”

She looked to him with a sincere, quiet smile. He met it, his blue eyes warm, kind and full of understanding.  “We all feel that way at some point, don’t we? At least, I have,” she continued.

“Yeah,” Oliver replied. “I spent a lot of energy when I was younger not liking who I was. Trying to be other people. It wasn’t a good time. But then I had some experiences that showed me what I was good at…that I had leadership skills. Things turned around for me after that.”

“I was the same way. I was accepted to MIT early and got lost for a while. The wrong guy. Misguided choices. Eventually, I found myself in my work. But when you’ve moved around for your career like I have, you still get twinges when you come to a new town and don’t know anyone.”

Oliver picked up his glass and gently swirled the wine inside. “But here you are in Starling City. Already tight with the police force and…”

Felicity eyed him over her glass. “My boss’s boss’s boss?”

Hearing those words pained Oliver a little. He shook his head. “I was going to say me. Just me.”

She felt herself full-on blushing this time. The attention of this man in front of her was overwhelming. “That sounds even better,” she replied with a blinding smile. Flirting a little could go both ways.

“And you have a tree.”

“It smells incredible.”

“That’s one of the best things about buying a live one,” Oliver noted. “How are you going to decorate it? Lights? Garland?”

Felicity shrugged. “I honestly hadn’t thought about it. I guess I should.”

Two things happened a short while later that signaled it was time to wrap up the evening. Oliver emptied his wine glass and Felicity yawned. She looked apologetic about it, at least. Oliver huffed a laugh, rose, and slipped into his coat. Felicity shuffled behind him to the door until he stopped and turned to look down at her.

“Felicity, can I ask you something? It’s kind of selfish.” He actually worried his bottom lip. This made her focus on his mouth, which was kind of dangerous. She only met him a few hours ago and a part of her was hoping he wanted to kiss her. Did this make her shameless? Wanton? She did not care.

“Sure,” her voice may have cracked a little.

“I noticed you have some furniture still in boxes.”

“Yeah, it turns out I can build a PC in thirty-eight minutes, but anything requiring an Allen wrench is a serious challenge.��

Oliver chuckled and then shifted from foot to foot. “I just thought, if you weren’t busy tomorrow, maybe I could come over and assemble it for you. If you like…”

“Oh, sure! Yeah, I mean, I don’t have any plans, really. Usually, on Saturdays I just go to the coffee shop up the street for a latte and then come back here to read. Rituals are comforting.”

“I get that. I go to the gym.”

“Of course, you do. I mean…” she stammered. Oliver raised an amused eyebrow in her direction, which only made things worse. “Obviously, you work out. Not that I noticed.”

“Eleven?”

“Great.” She smiled warmly. “Thank you for everything tonight, Oliver. And thank you for tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow hasn’t happened yet,” he countered with a grin.

“I know. But I have a feeling it’s going to be nice.”

Oliver fixed his gaze on her. “Good night, Felicity Smoak.” Then he leaned down and placed a gentle, lingering kiss on her soft cheek. The stubble on his own might have brushed against her skin as he retreated. Felicity’s gasp reverberated in Oliver’s ears and his brain and his heart clenched for a second.  

“Night.”

He kept his eyes on her as he pulled the balaclava from his pocket and pulled it back over his head. Felicity giggled and raised her hands up, clawing the air with her fingers. She made an adorable “grr” noise.

Oliver stepped into the cold with a grin clearly outline by the ski mask on his face. He felt lighter than he had in a long time.  When he got to the sidewalk he looked at the tree filling the bay window. He turned and signaled a “thumbs up” to Felicity, still standing in the doorway. She waved, then closed the door to the frosty night air.

To be continued.

Friends, I hope you don’t mind me tagging you here for this story. Please disregard if fluff is not for you and rest assured, I’ll be back to the photo edit posts soon. 

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[chinashopbully]

‘I Like Birds’ ch. 12 PREVIEW

(~2500 words) In which Bruce is exasperated, Tony is exasperating, and the author doesn't know shit about restraining himself from adding in a brief bonus!POV halfway through the story.

(also there's a donation request stuck in there at the bottom. don't want that to catch anyone off guard.)

He’s run out of things to try.

Bruce was already on the edge of doing something that’d instantly raise the Homeland Security alert levels. Roping the other Avengers in to help was supposed to increase his options, and thereby decrease his frustration, and thereby serve the overall purpose of world peace.

But of course, since Steve got pulled away on some international something-or-other, and Natasha already came and went with what seemed like maybe twenty minutes in between, only one Avenger has been around lately.

And of course, it had to be Tony.

“Have a little faith in the kid,” says Tony.

“Says the guy who tried to hold him against his will ‘for his own good’?”

“I’m never gonna live that down, am I.”

“I’ll forgive you when he does.”

“Gonna be tough to know when that is if he’s already drunk the Kool-Aid.” Tony pauses, scratches the hair at the nape of his neck. Bruce can’t tell if Tony’s overall greasiness is from handling machine parts or not showering. Both, probably. “Okay so that,” says Tony, “that came out wrong.”

“Damn well better have,” Bruce mutters, stalking away to the other side of the lab where there’s Less Tony.

Tony’s voice covers the distance a little too well. “All I mean is that if he really is chanting Oms and preparing his body for the mothership or whatever then nothing — nothing — we do or say is gonna bring him back down to earth. We try to reach out, it’ll just drive him away. Probably even prove some point about us outsiders being ignorant or hostile…”

“Not that I disagree,” says Bruce, not as under-the-breath as he intended, “but where was this understanding when you were having your AI lock down the building?”

“And anyway I don’t see how it’s our business either way.”

“How do you not give yourself whiplash?”

“Also,” Tony says, “he has powers. It not like he’s helpless.”

Bruce stares. “…I don’t want to sound like a broken record but—“

“So it takes me a while!”

The response sticks in Bruce’s throat. Fact: Tony Stark sucks at people. Sometimes willfully, often not. Occasionally it’s hard to tell which is which.

Bruce shuts his mouth.

Tony drops the torque wrench and reaches into the bag of blueberries dangling from DUM-E’s claw (probably on JARVIS’ orders). “Are we sure he’s not, y’know. Undercover or something?”

“If he were onto something — if this were work-related he’d tell us.”

“That’d be kind of a first.”

“He’d tell me.”

“You sound awfully sure of yourself.”

“He promised,” says Bruce.

“Well did he pinkie promise?” Tony leans back, and dear lord, when was the last time that face saw a razor? “Because that’s the heart and soul of contractual obligation.”

Bruce blinks at Tony’s pointedly guileless face before deciding that it’s not even worth the effort of counting to ten. He forces a smile. “It wouldn’t kill you to be slightly less of a jackass about everything.”

“That’s never been proven.”

He’s going through a rough time, Bruce thinks. He’s going through a rough time. He’s going through… “If not us,” says Bruce, “you know he’d at least tell Deadpool.”

Something metal gets thrown across the floor when Bruce isn’t looking; he jumps, presses a palm to his chest, sucks down the panic and swallows it away only through the aid of relentless practice. He stares at Tony in unbridled horror. He’s going through a very, very rough time, if he’s pulling stunts like that.

Tony gestures violently with one hand. “One, okay, I do not know that, and neither do you. We don’t even know when or, more to the point, why the kid left his place, but I will bet you an entire goddamn casino that Wilson did something shitty to drive him off. Guy’s the human personification of a fault line. Turns on a dime. Razes entire sections of the world at random. Doesn’t know pizza from roadkill and I’ve seen him go nuclear because he didn’t like the color scheme of one of the new-generation iPhone releases.”

“Meanwhile,” says Bruce, because he’s kind of in a mood now, “your response to being kidnapped was to spend the next few years building a personal army of weaponized armor and publicly claim ownership of world peace while daring known terrorists to come hurt your very few loved ones.”

For a moment Tony turns to ice, unmoving and brittle. Only for a moment. Then: “I am a model of mental health,” he says, breezing on. “Two, in the unlikely event everything is still sunshine and roses between spider-boy and Ol’ Hair Trigger, why in the name of sodium pentathol would Wilson tell us anything? I feel like his weird daddy-issues hero-worship thing he had for Cap kinda went belly-up. Because, again, turns on a dime.”

Bruce presses his thumb against a sudden sore spot on his forehead. “I can’t believe I’m about to defend Deadpool of all people, but it’s not like that was an unprovok—“

“Sure I mean, he might show up playing the I’ve Got A Secret game to try and squeeze a buck out of the deal, but he hasn’t, which most likely means he doesn’t know anything. But if you wanna track him down and interrogate him anyway, do me a solid and gimme a heads-up first because I’ve been meaning to test the new Hulkbuster armor.”

“Tony—“

“Three, and goddammit Brucie I hate to say this, I really do, but it gots to be said — maybe Spidey Krishna has been a long time coming and has nothing to do with anything. Not us, not nobody, not no how.”

“At the same time he’s been trying to track down the source of serial suicide bombers? Come on, Tony.”

“Coincidence. Fact is he’s no more emotionally stable than the rest of us at the best of times and god knows we’ve all flown off our own deep ends before. Typically, dare I say it, at the most inconvenient moment? Joining a cult is, like, the tamest of all possible outcomes, let’s be real.”

Bruce feels a dangerous burbling in his chest. Shuts his eyes for just as long as it takes to breathe in once, all the way, through the nose. Two fingers against his inner wrist. Pulse slows. “Claiming coincidence without investigation is just plain lazy,” says Bruce, with his eyes open.

Tony’s expression sours. “You’re paraphrasing. Badly.”

“Every effect has a cause. You either care enough to find out what that cause is, or you don’t.”

Tony narrows his eyes and hums in thought. “Wasn’t there something, somewhere, at some point, in some abrahamic religion, about the devil spinning scripture to his advantage?”

“Tony, I know you have a god complex, but comparing one of your pre-bandwagon rants to actual religious texts—“

“Pushing it?”

“A little, yeah.”

“Well, we were talking about cults, so. My mind was just in the gutter already, I guess.”

Bruce maintains a careful stoneface.

“Hm.” Tony flicks a blueberry in the air, catches it in his mouth on the way down. Again talks with his mouth full, which is sort of the Tony Stark equivalent of coughing and mumbling when you have to say something embarrassing. “Okay yes, my behavior before with the whole… y’know, kidnapping thing… was less than awesome and I was… less right than usual, okay? And now I just think we should leave him alone.”

“And I just think we should find a way to help him.”

“How, though? What’s he need?”

“I don’t know.”

“Because he’s not saying.”

Bruce raises his eyebrows, waiting for Tony to make his point.

“If he’s not saying anything then he’s probably not needing anything,” says Tony.

“Wow,” Bruce says. “I thought maybe you were just putting on a show so you could win the argument, but you really have pulled a U-ie.”

“Look, if you’re right, and this has nothing to do with spandex, and he really does want to be at Jonestown, then we’d be poking our way into his personal, poorly-guarded-secret-identity life and — aside from being just plain rude — probably fucking him up even worse in the long run, even if we did manage to get him to quit the club. And if I’m right, and he’s only there to work a job or… I dunno, whaddaya call it, a case? A mission? If he’s there to do Spider-Man stuff, then we’d be poking our way into that and probably fucking that up, which could get him killed. …I feel like this is overall just a no-pokey situation.”

“As if you never benefit from people sticking their noses in your business from time to time,” Bruce says, looking pointedly at the blueberry bag and Tony’s hand reaching into it.

“How dare you. JARVIS is not a ‘people’. He’s better than that.”

“I’m not saying we barge in guns blazing. But we should try to do something.”

“Great idea, and here’s another one: How ‘bout we don’t.”

“Enough don’t,” says Bruce. “We’ve been don’ting — or, you have been, rather — ever since—“

“JARVIS, music.”

“Which playlist, sir?”

“How ‘bout the GTFO party mix.”

Bruce isn’t sure how he immediately recognizes the opening of “Back Off, Bitch” by Guns N’ Roses — it’s very much not to his taste — but he does, and rolls his eyes.

It’s been over two months since both Spider-Man and reason fled Tony, and both have yet to come back. Been a little longer than that since Pepper left — physically left the Manhattan offices, since Tony refused to do so (the adult version of a child screaming get out of my room), and while Bruce sympathizes with her choices and with her need to be geographically removed from Tony, he more than sympathizes with Tony’s need for the anchor she provided.

These days Bruce can think of Betty without risking a news-breaking incident. If you’d asked him as a younger man whether a person could experience sadness so visceral that their body interprets it as a very real threat to life and limb, his answer would’ve been different, and uninformed. He still thinks “sadness” is a hell of a way to describe the existential anguish that is Betty’s absence from his life. Mostly, therefore, Bruce only thinks of Betty long enough to remember her name, and that they love each other — and that he has a good idea of what Tony’s going through with Pepper being gone.

And if Bruce can spend as much time with Tony as he does, then he must have some kind of nebulous, intuitive understanding of both how and why Spider-Man would spend time with Deadpool.

…And if Bruce is projecting onto both Tony and Spider-Man, he can’t help it. He’s not the most empathetic person, but sometimes empathy, like rage, is unstoppable.

Hmm.

He creeps up behind Tony — already back to “tinkering” and hellbent on ignoring him — and putting his hands on his knees, leans over. His mouth is an inch from Tony’s ear before Tony is even aware that Bruce is in his personal space.

“Mikey,” says Bruce, more than loud enough to be heard over the music.

Tony swats him with a backhand without looking. “I CAN’T HEAR YOU, BUT YOU GO RIGHT ON AHEAD AND KEEP TALKING.”

“His name’s Mikey!” says Bruce.

Tony throws down the screwdriver, waves vaguely for JARVIS to mute the music, and flops his hands on his knees. Sighs, heavily. “Don’t name it, you’ll just wanna keep it,” he says.

“He looks like a Mikey, too,” Bruce adds.

“Of course he does, he’s obviously an adorable babyface who was raised on wholesome cereal that’s a part of this complete breakfast. And overlooking the question of how the hell you found this out, why in the fuck would you tell me?”

Bruce shrugs. “He’s our friend.”

“Yes! He is! Our friend who loves his secret identity! And you know me, you know I’ll never be able to unlearn that. Why would you—” Tony squashes both hands to his face and takes a breath. “Look, I may be accidentally anathema to consistency, but I like to try anyway, okay? I’ve actually had to work very hard not to learn Spidey’s IRL bullshit. Do you understand how hard that is? Do you realize how much he sucks at the secret identity schtick, Gumby?”

“Gumby. Because he’s green. I get it.”

“Seriously. Why.”

Bruce shrugs. “To remind you that he’s human?”

“I know he’s human!”

“And that we all know you’re still very, very sorry about what happened, but running from your guilt by switching from extreme overprotectiveness to an extreme hands-off policy is probably not going to solve any problems.”

Tony narrows his eyes.

Bruce shifts his weight, settling back a little.

“Okay,” says Tony in a profoundly reasonable voice as he rises from the floor. His back pops, twice, when he stretches it. (His eyes bug a little, but he manages not to groan even though he clearly wants to.) “I’ll do some remote surveillance around the place and have JARVIS ping me if anything looks weird. I mean. Dangerous-weird, not creepy-weird. We’re already way past creepy-weird. So this way we’re doing something, but not sticking our hands in up to the elbow. Sounds like a pretty fair compromise to me. Coffee?”

It takes Bruce a couple seconds to realize he just won. “Great,” he says. “I mean, about the idea, not about the coffee. I know damn well that’s not decaf. …You shouldn’t have any, either,” he adds, reaching for the cold pot and holding it out of reach before Tony can touch it.

“Of course I should. I’m a busy adult with many important things to do. And cocaine’s still illegal.” He opens the minifridge, and Bruce closes it with his foot before a can of Monster can escape.

Tony fixes him with a look. “You’re cruel to me,” he announces.

“Mm-hm. How many hours since you slept?”

Tony pretends to consider the question, then gives up. “JARVIS?”

“Thirty-one hours, sir.”

“Thirty-one hours, Brucie Boy,” says Tony.

“C’mon,” Bruce says, reaching for Tony’s elbow. “You’re going to bed.”

“Nah! Nahahah nnno!” He curls away. “You’re gonna have to wash the hell out of your hands if you want to put them anywhere near me.”

“Tony, you’re standing there in a cloud of your own thirty-hour stink and I seriously doubt if you’ve changed your underwear since the weekend. Don’t talk to me about germs.”

Tony hisses.

Bruce makes a grab for him.

“Jesus, your hands are cold!”

“Come on.”

“I need an adult!”

“Tony—“

“I’m not tired.”

“Worse than a nine-year-old…”

“Ow! Did I say you could—“

“Would you just—“

“Okay! Let go, alright! Hands off, I’m going, I’m going.”

“Go to bed, Tony.”

“You’re not my real dad.”

Somewhere in the lava flow of his subconscious, Bruce can feel the Other Guy roll his eyes, at both of them.

Hey! If you like this scene, or if you like the fic in general, if it has added some kind of value to your life, and only if you are comfortable with it and can afford it, please consider tipping the author.

There are zero negative consequences to not tipping. That is totally chill. Author understands what it's like to not be able to respond to a donation request (and also to just... not wanna) and officially absolves you of all guilt and guilt-related feelings. Author is nonetheless forced to make a public request for donations so that the people who already can and want to will be able to do so.

Positive impacts of tipping include: supporting an unemployed autistic, helping someone get out of A Situation, validating many hours of emotionally difficult work with a material survival resource, and (author hesitates to mention this because it feels borderline manipulative but, dammit, for the next several hours it is also true) congratulating someone on surviving another year because today (wednesday) is author's birthday.

Have an excellent rest of your day.

[angelic-writer]

Crystal Valley High - Chapter 1

“Sonia?"

"Sonia, sweetie? You awake?"

I stirred from my sleep from my mom’s soft voice. "Mm... barely."

"Well, don't worry, Sonia. We're almost there. Just hang on for a little longer." My dad said.

I nodded and rested my head against the window. Looking out at the trees they're passing by, I started to nod off again. Before I let slumber overtake me, I saw the sign. It read, "Welcome to Crystal County. The Mystic State."

A few hours later, I was awoken by her father. I sat up from my seat and rubbed my eyes.

“Here we are, sweetie. Our new home." Dad said.

"Do you like it?" Mom asked me.

I nodded slightly. "It's nice. At least the house got a fresh coat of paint." I said.

"Well, why don't you help us get the stuff from the car? The movers will be there shortly."

"M'Kay."

The three of us got to work getting our bags. Mom slung her bag over her shoulder, grunting at the weight. The bag was pretty heavy, but my mom was stronger than she looked. "Do you want me to take it?" My dad asked.

"Oh no, I got it. You take care of the heavier stuff." Mom said.

Despite her saying that, Dad took the bag and easily carried it to the porch. I smiled. From what they told me about each other, they’re still the same cute couple that they were in high school.

I looked at the house. It was a pretty big house with the walls painted white and the shutters being a light blue. Eh, I like it. It fit the color scheme rather nicely. To any other person, they would say it was a bit plain, but at least it was better than my old home with the floors being creaky and the paint peeling off. I hope the floor would be sturdy. I don’t want to fall through the floor and get myself hurt. If there’s one thing I don’t like, it’s the possibility of being in the hospital. With a deep breath, I walked inside.

The inside wasn't too bad. The wooden floorboards held itself nicely and the flower wallpaper was very pretty. It gave off a nice old school vibe. To my right, there was an entrance way to the living room. I decided to take a look around, in case there is a hidden passageway somewhere in the house. I always got excited at the thought of there being a secret staircase or passageway in someone's house. Who knows what kind of treasures I could find in them. Though, I probably shouldn’t snoop around too much. That would be weird. I should only do it when my gut tells me to. The living room was pretty big with a fireplace placed in the middle of the wall and there were two windows. One of them looked out to the front yard and the other looked out to the wooded backyard. I went into the kitchen, which was fully stocked with pots and pans. The tile floor there was nice, but it could use an upgrade. I looked over to the back door. Definitely leads out to the backyard.

"Sonia! Can you help us with these boxes?" My mom called out.

I nodded and went over to my parents. We all carried some boxes up the stairs to the rooms. I hadn't really explored the second floor yet, so this was pretty exciting for me. The second floor contained three bedrooms, a bathroom and a room that contained a washing machine and dryer. I didn't know why there was a third bedroom. Maybe it was meant for a family of four. I don’t know. I figured maybe Dad could convert it into a study. Though, maybe we should keep the room just in case someone wanted to spend the night. I went into the room next to the bathroom and looked around. The walls were painted purple with a fan on the ceiling. I looked over to a spot right next to the window. I’m definitely gonna place my bed there. What caught my attention was the sliding glass door. With a big smile, I went over to it and opened it.

I stood on the balcony that overlooked my backyard. There were daffodils, roses, daisies, geraniums and other flowers growing there. The smell of freshly cut grass hung in the air. Over to the distance was the view of the lake. The sun shining on the water, the little ripples the dragonflies made - it looked like it came straight out of a painting. I rested my arms on the railing and breathed in the cool air. This is beautiful! I love this! I mean, Washington did have nice landscapes, but the scene in front of me takes the cake. I sighed. Too bad it'll all be gone when fall comes. It really is beautiful in the summertime. Although, I wonder what the lake would look like in the wintertime.

I thought about my friends from back home. Sure, they thought of me as kind of weird for my hobbies, but they were still my friends. Besides, I liked that kind of stuff. It always satisfied the Nancy Drew inside me.

I closed my eyes and felt the light breeze on my skin. I honestly didn't expect to be moving to a different town during the summer, but Crystal County was offering some great job offers for my dad, so he couldn't pass it up. From talking to people online, I learned that Crystal County had a beautiful landscape and those who are working in the town are to be set for life. Heh. Certain high school much?

I wished I could stay here and bask in the sunlight, but I’ve got my own things to do. And so, I went back inside.

The movers arrived shortly and they got to work getting our stuff in. I spent some time decorating my room with my posters. I put some music on to occupy myself as I worked. I hummed to the tune of the song as I put my books in the bookshelves. I was wondering why I didn't discover this band sooner. One of my friends recommended it to me and I absolutely loved it. I looked at the posters on my wall. One poster was of a young woman holding a bow and arrow with a mockingjay pin set ablaze behind her. Another poster was of a group of teenagers standing behind a diner, but the letters on the neon sign were burnt out, spelling the word "DIE". I thought it was pretty ominous, but, hey. That's just the way I like it. Strangely enough, the third poster contained a young woman and a young man together. The man was pretty pale and his eyes were glowing a bit. I didn't know why I liked this movie. I must've related to the main character or something. I don’t know.

The books I had on the shelves were a variety of genres. Mystery, fantasy, science fiction, teen romance, horror - Hell, this young teenage girl would probably have a whole library if I wanted to. I could see myself as probably a bookworm.

A few hours later, I got my bedroom set up, but there were still boxes around. After flattening the boxes, I went downstairs and saw that my parents were still moving some boxes around. “Hey, mom. Do you need help unpacking the rest?” I asked.

“Oh no, honey. Your father and I got the rest. Although…” She picked up a smaller box and handed it to me. “Maybe you can put these snow globes somewhere.”

I took the box and looked over to the fireplace. It had a little shelf on top of it. It could make use for some candles and snowglobes. “Alright,” I opened the box and started to take out the snowglobes. “But I’ll have you know that I’m tougher than I look.”

Mom giggled. “Well, you know us Walker women. Always being strong and independent.”

“Of course, it doesn’t hurt to ask for help.” Dad chimed in.

“Of course, honey.” Mom giggled and kissed him on the cheek. I smiled at them.

“Well, aren’t you two adorable? I wish I have someone like that.” I said.

“Don’t worry, honey. You’re still young. You still have time to look for someone. It doesn’t matter what gender or what race they are. Whether it be a boy or a girl, we’ll always support you. Just don’t rush into marriage, okay?” Dad said with a light chuckle.

“Alright.” I said as I put the snowglobes on the shelves.

“So, if you do decide to date someone, where would you two go? What would you do? There are some places in Crystal County that would make great dates.” Mom said. I could tell that she was going through her teen phase again. “Mooooom, I just moved here! Why are we talking about dating now?! I don’t know if there will be anyone I like here!”

“Well, you never know. This person could become very important to you.”

My face flushed red. “Well, I don’t know.” I looked at herself in the mirror above the fireplace. “I’m not even that pretty.”

“Honey, don’t say that. You’re beautiful.” Dad said.

“Dad, have you seen my hair? The girls at my old school have long, beautiful hair. And me? I get the short hair.”

“Well, there’s nothing wrong with having short hair. There are some girls out there that have short hair. It doesn’t matter what you look. It’s-” Mom started, but I finished the sentence for her.

“Always the inside that counts. Geez, I hear that so many times in TV shows that it’s become a cliche.”

“Well, it’s a good message. Even if it’s overused, it’s still a good message.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

I looked in the mirror again. Being surrounded by so many beautiful girls at my old school had made me unsure of my looks. I always wanted to try out those beautiful hairstyles I found online. But due to my short hair, I couldn’t do that. Not even I could get my hair in a braid if I wanted to. Not only that, I don’t remember having a crush on any boy at my old school. I don’t know if I was gay or bi or anything. Thank god my generation is much more accepting than long ago. I would have been pummeled if I was living in any other time period. I ended my thought session and got back to work moving stuff around.

A few hours later, I heard a knock at the door. My mom answered.

“Hello?”

I then heard a new voice.

“Hi! I saw that there were some moving trucks in the driveway next to my house. Are you guys, by any chance…”

“Oh, why, yes! We just moved here hours ago. We’re just getting some stuff into the rooms.”

“Oh, cool!”

Mom turned to me, who was just putting some dishes in the cupboards. “Hey, honey! We have a visitor!”

A visitor? Who could be visiting us?

I slowly walked out of the kitchen to the hallway. There, standing at my front door, was a girl about a year younger than me. Long, blonde hair, blue eyes, fair skin, slim body type - She looked like a model. The girl saw me and waved.

“Hey, new neighbor!” She said in a cheerful voice.

“Uh… Hi.” I shyly said. Damn, I really need to step up my game in talking to people.

“Oh, don’t worry about her. She’s really shy when you first meet her. Trust me, she gets really talkative after a while.” Mom said, patting my head. My face flushed. ‘Mom, I’m not a kid anymore.’ I whispered.

“Don’t worry. I got you.” The blonde girl said with a laugh.

“Um, I noticed that you said you saw the movers next to your house. Are you...?” I asked.

“Yeah. I live next door to you! I guess we’re next door neighbors!”

“Ah, cool. I-I’m Sonia. What’s your name?”

“I’m Carly. Carly Jackson.”

“Oh, that’s a nice name. So, what made you decide to come here?”

“Well, my nanny saw you guys moving here and she thought it would be a good idea for me to come introduce myself to you guys.”

“You have a nanny?”

“Yeah. She takes care of me when my parents aren’t home. On rare occasions, they come home, but not much. So, it’s just me and the nanny.”

“I see.”

“But don’t worry! I spend my time just watching whatever’s on TV or surfing the internet. At least something to keep me occupied.”

My eyes lit up. “Oh cool! I watch TV too! I especially like watching teen dramas. I don’t know why. I guess I fit into their teen demographic.”

Carly smiled. “I see! Are there any shows you specifically like?”

I then went on to explain the list of shows I like. Old school shows, new shows, fantasy, mystery, anything.

“Wow. You have a lot of free time, don’t you?”

“Yep! Although my parents wanted me to go outside more. But I just get so invested in the show that I lock myself in my room just to see where it’s going to go! It’s just… Ugh! Their plots are really good!”

“It’s true. James and I always tried to get her out of her room whenever she watches a series, but she just wouldn’t. And when we tried to turn it off, she just gets grumpy until she could get back to the TV. I remember when she got hooked onto Riverdale and when the first season ended, she was screaming.”

“Mom, it was because of that cliffhanger! You don’t have to remind me!” I shouted, my voice cracking a bit.

Mom was trying her best to hold back laughter. She knew she shouldn’t laugh at me, but it was clear that remembering that moment was too much for her. I wish she didn’t have to remind me of it, though.

“See? I told you she gets really talkative!”

I was clearly getting flustered.

“Mmmmmm! So what if I spend every day dying inside just so I can see the revelation to that cliffhanger?! So what?!”

My voice was squeaking. Carly tried her best to not burst into laughter.

“Sonia, your voice is squeaking.” Dad said, cracking a small smile.

“So?! I just want my dad to be okay!! Please give me something!! Anything to show that he’ll make it!!!” I hugged my dad tightly, pressing my face into his shirt as I screamed.

Carly was really confused, but Mom clarified what I was confused about. “She’s referring to a character on the show. She likes to compare him to my husband.” “Oh, I see.” She said, smirking.

Everyone was silent, aside from my groans muffled by Dad’s shirt. Finally, Carly broke the silence.

“Anyway! Why don’t we talk about our favorite shows while I show you around town? Are you up for it?”

My head popped up. “Okay.” My mood changed faster than a little kid who was just given ice cream during a temper tantrum. “Well, see ya, Mom. See ya, Dad.”

“See you later, sweetie. Dad and I will take care of the rest of the boxes.”

And so, the two of us started to walk around the neighborhood, talking about hobbies and what we like to do in our spare time.

“So, besides watching teen dramas, what other shows do you like to watch?”

“Eh, I guess I like to watch something related to true crime. I really like how the mysteries are laid out for the detectives to either be solved or remain unsolved for the general public to figure out. I personally like the mysteries to be unsolved because it causes me to think about what really happened, what leads they have and what kind of evidence is presented to us. In a way, it makes me feel like a detective.”

“Ah, I see! I like watching those kinds of shows too! We all enjoy a good mystery.”

“Really? Cause some people at my old school don’t think so.”

“Oh… Did those people make fun of you because of it?”

“No. Not at all! Sure, some of them think I’m weird because of it, but they were still my friends. They’d rather stick with romances and comedies and try to ignore what’s going on in the world. The truth is, the world is not an innocent place, but we gotta be optimistic about the good things.”

“Hmph. Try telling Sophie that.”

“Who’s Sophie?”

“Oh, she’s a friend of mine and Katherine’s. She works alongside her mother at a clothing store and is a fashion model online. She’s the kind of girl who thinks everything is all sunshine and rainbows. She still acts like a kid despite being in high school. Honestly, I don’t mind it as much. She’s really cute when she acts like that, but I worry about her. She needs to be prepared for the hard truth of the world. Katherine, on the other hand… She’s the one that had the long face every since she entered high school. In fact, it’s pretty rare that she smiles. Unlike Sophie, who likes to wear dresses and summer clothes, Katherine wears dark clothing despite it being over 70 degrees. I think kids might pass her off as emo.”

“I don’t think being emo is a bad thing. I’m pretty sure she’s not hurting anyone with her clothing style. The kids at my old school wear really flashy clothes and have sparkling phone cases. My clothes may not be spectacular, but these girls dress up like they’re getting ready for a fashion shoot. Don’t get me wrong, wear what you want to wear, but try not to overdo it.”

“They probably just want to impress their boyfriends.”

“Eh, probably.”

We continued to walk down the street until we approached a forest. Carly suddenly grabbed my wrist. “Um… I wouldn’t go there if I were you.”

I chuckled. “Why? Because of wolves and stuff?” I asked.

“Well, that and…” Carly trailed off. I was confused. What could be scary about a forest? I mean, it’s not like a serial killer is hiding in there, waiting for their next victim.

“Listen,” Carly said. “I think you should know something about this town.”

“What’s that?”

“Well… This town… Let’s just say it’s not like most small towns. To put it in simple terms, Crystal County has every mythical creature in the book. Vampires, werewolves, demons, grim reapers - everything!”

My eyes lit up. “Ooh, interesting!”

“Now, you may think this is a cool setup for a mystery show or movie, but you need to be careful. In this town, no one knows if you’re human or one of them.”

“That’s pretty ominous.” I could only say. I didn’t know why, but my curiosity was getting the better of me. Maybe Carly was overestimating the danger. Maybe it would bring some excitement in my life. My life back home used to be normal and, quite frankly, pretty boring. Maybe moving to Crystal County wasn’t such a bad idea after all...

“But, I suppose that won’t stop you from trying to figure it out, right?”

“...Am I really that easy to read?”

“Yep. I learned a lot from my father. And Ace Attorney, of course.” Carly said, winking.

“You play Ace Attorney?”

“Heck yeah, dude! It’s my favorite game series!”

“I’ve never played it, but I gotta check it out!”

“Dude, you should! It’s really good!”

We continued to walk down the street. Though, I can’t shake the feeling that something was… watching me.

A little while later, the two of us walked in the direction to a nearby park. People were walking on the sidewalks along the pond with their dogs and their partners. There were some people sitting on the benches, throwing bread crumbs to the nearby ducks.

“So, this is Crystal Park.”

“Interesting. This looks like a very pretty park.”

“Yeah, it is. It’s mostly famous for its waterfalls and the art museum next door. Do you wanna see one of them?”

“Sure!”

Carly grabbed my hand and she lead me to a spot where there was a big waterfall. I marveled at the sight.

“Wow! This is so beautiful!”

“Yep! It is. I always go there whenever I need to clear my head.”

“Well, I can definitely say that this is a great stress reliever.”

“Yep!”

We all continued to stare at the waterfall. The little water droplets were getting on my skin, making me feel relaxed. I didn’t realize that I was a little stressed. Maybe the move has gotten to me a bit.

“So, I gotta ask. What was life like back in your old town?” “Eh, you know. Just school and regular outings with friends. Nothing really exciting.”

“Ah, I see. It’s the same with me. You know, aside from using to live in a different town, I mean. Sometimes, I want some exciting things in my life. You know, to get out of the monotonous cycle I’m in once in a while. You know what I mean?”

@chibisrpblog