#MATH SCARY (writes endlessly about math)

[bonefall]

Would Midnight be patient with my fellow discalculia girlies... I love her but am So So Pathologically Bad at math

Midnight teaches advanced algebra to cats, you'll be fine. She'll conjure up a fractal for you, color each part of the equation, show how each part interacts and what it looks like when you change it

She'll take you out to the beach and explain the wind and the tide, compare them to each axis on the formula she showed you, and modify one factor. The wind dies down and the sea becomes as smooth as glass.

"Smoothness for the-waves you-see?" She waits for you to nod, never rushing you along, even the most casual questions are genuine, "Excellent! For this is example of maths I-teach. Nature it-will-happen. Simpleness it-being. You-will-understand."

[frogsndogs]

After Sam’s mom dies some legal shit happens and she ends up with her Great Aunt Sophie instead of her father. Even at this point Sophie isn’t doing great health-wise and isn’t in the best place to take care of little Sam (who is about eight) so the ghosts take point. 

Thor, Pete and Hetty who never really got a chance to raise their own children dote on her endlessly and Sam sees them more as parents than the others

Sasappis, Isaac, Alberta and Flower are more like her Aunts/Uncles

Sass tells her a story every night and encourages her to go into writing and journalism 

Flower and Isaac are both voting for her to go the law route tho

It was a point of contention among the ghosts for a long time

Isaac learns to live with it when she talks abt writing his biography

After story time Thor will sing her a lullaby

Alberta will also sing lullabies to her

They get kinda competitive abt it

Between Thor’s tales of slaughtering Danes, Hetty’s problematic ideals, Alberta’s old bootlegging stories and Pete’s strict rules Sam grows up with some interesting moral standards

Like it’s ok to hide a body if its good for your troop

They’re quite excited to have a living who can see them but they’re a lot less pushy than they are in canon bc Sam is just a kid

Sophie worries about her, and there’s like a solid week where Sam thinks she’s genuinely going insane but the ghosts manage to convince her that they’re real

Its a tough week for the ghosts too, wondering if their mere presence is traumatizing Sam

Sam is twelve when she and her aunt go away for a weekend and when they come back there’s a new ghost with no pants

Trevor is incredibly careful not to flash her and he tries really hard to change his behaviour bc he knows his usual personality would be inappropriate

They figure out what happened to Trevor’s body a lot sooner bc Sam isn’t sure if she should call the cops or what exactly happened and where Trevor came from and Alberta can tell Sass knows more than he’s letting on and it all just spirals out of control

He helps her with math homework

Thor, Hetty and Pete all feel kinda guilty bc they feel like they are treating Sam as a ‘replacement’ for the kids that they lost but they eventually realize that just bc they love sam doesn’t mean they love their own kids any less

Halloween goes different as now it’s child-on-child violence 

Sam is ruthless with these kids, there will be no survivors

She hates the Farnby’s and it is mutual

When she’s in high school Steph is around a lot more and shows her to stand up to bullies (re: bully them back)

She and Steph actually get along a lot

It’s kinda scary

She really likes gossiping and drama and the ghosts are all aware of the latest “thing” going on at her high school

Sam isn’t afraid of the cholera ghosts but they mostly keep to themselves out of fear that they’ll scare her

Pete is constantly trying to make sure that Nancy doesn’t say/do anything inappropriate around Sam

Sam loves her weird British uncles who live in the shed and when she was younger she thought that Nigel and Isaac were already married

Sam is a lot sneakier abt talking to the ghosts bc she’s been doing it her whole life

When Sam goes away to college the ghosts have a hard time

Trevor esp, bc he’s never been a ghost without Sam there

I think in this AU Trevor would be more like her much older cool brother

like he canonically has a younger sibling so he knows how to be a good older brother (with some adjustments)

They are ridiculously overprotective of her at times and she learns quickly to never bring any of her dates to the manor

Sam works full time at the Ulster County Review

She’s less eager abt the BnB idea bc that’s her home and ghosts’ home and they don’t want it

But maybe she leads some haunted tours around the manor

The ghosts enjoy that

Trevor teaches her how to play the stock market too so Sam is pretty comfortable

Plus selling Elias’s old watch

Maybe the events of Trevor’s pants just happen a lot sooner with Ari showing up and Sam being a little shit

i think that maybe David isn't as careful with Sam as Trevor is and just makes her really uncomfortable in general so the ghosts all hate David and she is not afraid to ruin his life

Meanwhile with Jay :)

After losing his job Jay takes a leap to start a new restaurant in the Hudson Valley county

He meets Sam and Daisy’s coffee shop and they hit it off quickly

But as their relationship progresses over a few months and Sam is cagey abt bringing Jay over to the manor things start to get strained

It all comes to a head when something goes wrong with Jay’s venue and he is hurt as a result

Im thinking maybe he falls through the floor and is legally dead for a few min, and the venue is closed for good

After which sam puts her foot down and decides to give him the old barn on the property for him to use for his restaurant instead, thinking that she’ll figure out how to tell him abt the whole ghosts thing later

But he can already see ghosts and is pretty freaked out abt it

The ghosts have Opinions™ about him

Trevor and Hetty don’t like that Sam is sinking a lot of money into this guy

Alberta and Isaac are worried that Sam likes him too much and won’t know when to quit

Sass and Thor are just excited abt the restaurant (they trust Sam to make good choices)

Flower and Pete are both of the opinion that it’s Sam’s choice and as long as he makes her happy that’s whats important

But eventually they all learn to love him and accept him and vice versa

It’s a bit of an adjustment period for everyone tho

there are 4 wolves in my head:

CBS ghosts AU where Sam and Jay are the adults and the ghosts are the kids and they adopt them vs. CBS ghosts AU where the ghosts are all alive and adults and adopt a kid sam vs. CBS ghosts AU where the ghosts are all ghosts and Sam is adopted by her Great Aunt Sophie and never grows out of seeing ghosts vs. Canon dynamics

[belnex]

What I think I know about Quantum Mechanics in relation to Quantum Computing.

This will mainly be going off the top of my head because this is my current hyper fixation. I find it endlessly fascinating and seeing how you can break the veil of abstract and real and where you can in some instances literally see the effects. So what the shit does this have to do with computers. Classical computers use bits to do literally any function within any computer. It is a binary system 0 and 1 . On or Off. Once you get the hang of it you can write entire sentences in just binary, then convert that string into hexa-decimal binary to send a coded message that says "Poopy fart shit". Put that hexadecimal code into a .txt file and transfer it onto a floppy disk and hide in under the sys admins coffee mug, coaster style. Well Quantum Computers use a qubit. I am going to butcher whatever the fuck goes on with these so here is a definition from the internet. They are used to measure probability and calculate that within the infinity that lies between 0 and 1. "In quantum computing, a qubit (/ˈkjuːbɪt/) or quantum bit is a BASIC unit of quantum information—the quantum version of the classic binary bit physically realized with a two-state device. A qubit is a two-state (or two-level) quantum-mechanical system, one of the SIMPLIST quantum systems displaying the peculiarity of quantum mechanics."

Okay, my brain already hurts so fuck you I am done reading. Valid. You don't have to ingest or comprehend any of this long term. I just need to put it down somewhere. So for those along for the ride, lets a go! Okay to understand any of this we start with a classical bit. 0 or 1 . On or Off. When the logic of a program, for example Super Mario Bros. Within the games code there are variables or states a games code can be in. While the game is in various states like the Pause menu or the Start menu or the actual game. The NES and the game cartridge are running all of there pre-determined moves, music, and animation. There is one crucial understanding to all of this. While any computer is running it is WAITING for a binary input to interact with it. Computers WAIT for input both in classical and quantum. Each keystroke is sending one cycle 0 -> 1 then compounds and is translated by every component between the physical key switches and the html I am writing this on. This is all to state very abstractly that Classical Computing isn't simple, but it requires a circuit like understanding. If we are gonna talk quantum shit we gotta get some things cleared up. I am not an expert. Please prove me wrong if I say something incorrect. I am learning and trying to grasp these ideas. I appreciate you. Quantum Mechanics Time: No scary equations here, yet... However I want to clear up the stigma of the spooky math symbols. Everything has a definition and a rule set. What makes something quantum? A "something" is quantum if it can exist in what is called a superposition. That means being able to exist in two arbitrary positions in space at once, but only if it hasn't been measured. Once measured a quantum system or wave function collapses to a single point or in the case of a qubit state 0 or state 1. Woah I thought you said qubits are different I see a 0 AND a 1. Keen eye there sport! Keeping you on your toes. You see the magic happens behind the curtain. NOBODY SEE'S THE WIZARD you see? Before the wave function is collapsed/Qubit Measured the qubit did some funny business inside of the quantum computer. We gotta start from the very beginning so bear with me. Just like classical computers quantum computers wait for inputs to change states on the bit or qubit. So what causes the qubit to do the magic? Entanglement. When two qubits become entangled. No matter how far physically they are from each other. If you collapse the wave function of one the other immediately collapses as well. Not at the speed of light. INSTANTLY! This is done algebraically. You marry the two wave functions with math so if you change or measure one the change in immediate in the other. How does this work exactly? When you entangle 2 qubits you create a new wave function. This is due to the no-cloning rule of wave-functions. No wave functions can exist more than once. This is why we use complex numbers, you need the infinite obscurity as leverage. Once you can mathematically prove 1 measurement equals 2 queries. That means 2 is 4 and 3 is 9 and 4 is 16. Exponential. Next time on Quantum Computing. Bra-Ket Notation, and Matrix shenanigans.

[starkerforlife6969]

Alpha Steve x Omega Peter - college au fluff overload

Part one of gift to @everyflowerneedspruning 

Steve ducks into the classroom, eyeing flickering over the already seated students. He keeps his head down, shuffling towards the back when he hears an incredulous:

“Steve?” from the front.

He turns to see Bruce, his roommate, staring at him with a bewildered expression. Steve hurries over to him and collapses into the seat, tugging his stuff out of his bag. “Hey, Bruce,” he greets distractedly, turning to glance at the door as more students shuffle in.

“Uh…hey?” He frowns, “are you…are you in this class?”

“Yeah, I just transferred.” He watches as another group of students filter in, chattering animatedly.

“You transferred to…to History of Math…”

Steve shoots his beta friend a mildly irritated glare. “Yes, Bruce. I did. Is that a problem?”

Bruce continues in the same bemused voice. “It’s just….History of Math. You’re a political science major...Here on a sports scholarship. And I’m pretty sure you once said that math was the most boring thing in the wor-“

“You know, maybe I just wanted to broaden my interests.” Steve grumbles in a clipped voice. “We’re seniors in college, Bruce. It’s the perfect time to try and widen your horizons and discover new opportunities.”

“…did you buy any of what you just said? Because I sure didn’t.” Bruce laughs.

Steve doesn’t reply.

His eyes are stuck on Peter.

The gorgeous omega who’s just in. He’s beautiful, oh god, he’s so beautiful. Steve watches as he makes his way to a seat at the back. He’s so dainty, with perfect cream skin and eyes that Steve could write sonnets about. Brown, but not just brown. The colour of Steve’s favourite chocolate, the colour of the mossy bark behind his house back home that trails into the forest. With specks of honeyed amber and glints of whiskey like fractures of sunlight. Those eyes are endlessly deep and a man could drown in the depths of them and die happy.

And his hair- his hair, always a little mussed and out of place; always wind swept with some lock falling, curled, into his face and a little tuft defying gravity. He’s wearing an oversized pink pastel sweater that drops down his shoulders, baring slivers of that lovely cream skin, and some denim shorts that should be illegal. Steve watches as he gracefully scoots into one of the seats and sets his leather satchel on the desk- looking for his laptop.

God, he’s the most gorgeous thing in the whole world and-

“Oh my god. You swapped for some omega?”

Steve whips around immediately and glares at Bruce who looks world-weary and judgemental at his discovery. “No! N-no! And he is not just some omega, he’s-“

“I know who he is,” Bruce sighs, pulling off his glasses and wiping them like he can’t bare looking at Steve. “He’s Peter Stark. As in, son of Tony Stark. Do you know who Tony Stark is, Steve? He’s the reason that Peter doesn’t have a boyfriend or a girlfriend. He’s the Tony Stark. That’s why I’m beginning to question your sanity.”

Steve pouts at that, and sets his head in his hands miserably as the class starts. He spends most of it completely confused as to anything that the professor is saying, and the other part gazing at Peter as discreetly as he can manage. The boy is so beautiful, he aches. And he’s typing into an expensive laptop quickly, looking like he understands everything.

He probably does. He’s a genius, after all. He’s a Stark. He finds jokes about physics equations funny just by looking at them and Steve has to google them just to get the gist. He knows this because he- not stalks, but follows Peter on instagram- why wouldn’t he? Why wouldn’t he want to see candid selfies of the boy bashfully half hidden behind his hands? Of him lying in bed half asleep and hugging his kitten Ojai? The tiny little thing almost as cute as Peter that the boy had rescued from an animal shelter? Of sunsets and views and shots of him and his omega friends? Peter comments laughing emojis on science puns and math symbols and Steve is in love, double tapping every photo.

But Peter has millions of instagram followers. Steve’s just a nameless face.

It’s a disheartening thought. But probably a necessary one- Peter is a freshman, a tiny, doe-eyed freshman who looks much younger. Who even let him into a place as brutal as college? He’s so small. He’s so soft and amazing and-

Steve falls into a daydream where maybe one day he and Peter post a picture of the two of them on his instagram account and-

When he comes to, Bruce is standing in front of him, looking remarkably unimpressed. Everyone else is gone, the classroom is empty and Steve smiles sheepishly. “You are going to fail this module.” Bruce declares unsympathetically. “And I am not going to tutor you.”

So much for friendship.

He tries to push thoughts of Peter out of his head and he even manages a little. He manages not to think of those chestnut curls or that milky skin or his perfect smile and tight, plump ass. He tries not to think about that when the headline broke that Tony Stark’s only son would be going to the same college as Steve- he nearly lost his mind. 

 It’s two days later, in the middle of the afternoon after a gruelling practise in the summer heat, that he’s scanning the squad for some refreshments when, of course, of course, he sees Peter with a lemonade stand. Like something out of a wet dream.

He’s awed at the sight of him. White tennis shoes, his long legs bare, and white shorts that are so flowy and flimsy it almost looks like a skirt- with a cream crop top that is tantalisingly tempting as it flutters around the lean, taught stomach. God, Steve wants. Peter’s all flushed and red from the heat. He wants to cover that delicate skin in suncream and kiss him and adore him. He’s so distracted by the sight of Peter, that he jumps a foot in the air when the sound of a megaphone goes off in his ear.

“Football should not just be for Alphas!” A dark skinned omega yells at him, and shoves a flyer into his chest. He grunts a little at the force of it and stares at her in shock, as Peter heads over with a glass of lemonade.

“MJ,” he calls disapprovingly, “we’re not going to sell much lemonade if you keep yelling that at people.”

“And we’re not going to fight injustice by you handing out lemonade.” She grumbles, but heads off dutifully back to the stand. Steve watches her go warily, a little afraid. But now he’s left with Peter, Peter who’s so close and a little shiny with sweat so that Steve can smell him. God, he smells good. He smells like lavender and his favourite chocolate chip cookies and the barest hint of strawberries and-

“Sorry about MJ. She seems a little grumpy, but she’s just passionate. Would you like to buy some lemonade?” Peter asks adorably, rocking on his heels and beaming up at Steve and practically radiating sunshine and rainbows. “We’re collecting for the local animal shelter!”

Steve is already reaching for his bag to get his wallet, and doesn’t see the way Peter’s eyes linger on the places his shirt has stuck to his abs with sweat. He’s trying not to stumble in the face of the effortless beauty and the smell of sure a pure, sweet omega. He wants to think of something cool to say. Something suave and interesting. What comes out is: “Sure, I love animals.”

Fucking idiot. Who doesn’t love animals?

“Same!” Peter exclaims excitedly, “I have a kitten that I rescued from a shelter!”

“Really?” Steve asks, playing dumb, “what type is he?” He hands over the money- actually, he hands over all the money in his wallet, and Peter hands over the lemonade with eager hands. Like he just can’t wait for Steve to try it. He’s never ben this physically close to Peter before and the size difference is amazing. Peter is tiny- obviously, all omegas are, but Peter truly is the smallest thing ever. Steve thinks that at the smallest point of Peter’s waist, he could wrap his hands right around it. He’s like a little fairy, a dainty elfin omega.

“He’s the most adorable little cream and ivory tabby! Oh, and he has the most stunning bright blue eyes, look, I have a picture!” He reaches for his phone, and Steve is so completely fucking endeared, when Peter seems to notice the money in his hand.

He stares at it in confusion for a second, before looking up at Steve (and he really does have to look up), then back down to the money, then back at Steve. “You’re…you’re donating thirty dollars?” He whispers, eyes wide and he looks like he might cry with joy.

There goes dinner for tonight. And breakfast tomorrow. Steve nods, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s for a good cause,” he murmurs. Peter really is an angel, and he looks like one too, all decked out in white. Because Steve knows. Steve’s seen the pictures. He’s seen the photos of Peter’s home growing up- Stark Mansion, the stunning, enormous house in acres of green that Peter will go home to every Thanksgiving, Christmas and Summer for the rest of his degree. But he’s still acting like this is a lot of money, and god, he’s precious-

“MJ!” Peter calls, gesturing his scary friend over from the stand. “Come look! He’s-“ he cuts himself off, staring at Steve with his bambi eyes as MJ reluctantly comes over. “I’m so sorry! I don’t even know your name!”

“Steve Rogers,” he greets, trying to keep his voice level, and Peter smiles at him with his fucking dimples and rosy pink lips. Steve holds out his hand without trembling by some miracle.

Peter takes it in his tiny, dainty ones. It’s completely engulfed in Steve’s. “Peter,” he murmurs, like everyone on campus doesn’t know who he is. How could they not? Tony is famous, and everyone is utterly besotted by his gorgeous, perfect omega. MJ arrives, and Steve is momentarily distracted by her.

She’s a pretty omega, slim and delicate, and although a little taller than Peter, she has something unique about her. She has dark eyes and dark hair and she looks at him with narrowed eyes.

“Steve just donated thirty dollars!” Peter exclaims, waving the money at her. “Isn’t that amazing? Mrs Denver is going to be so happy! We’re so close to our goal! Do you think she’ll let us help repaint the sign?”

MJ’s cool veneer seems to waver a little, and she looks reluctantly amused by Peter’s bright eyed enthusiasm. “Maybe.” She answers noncommittally, “So, Steve. You like helping out?”

Steve swallows hard, and nods. “Yeah, uh- it’s a good cause.” She stares at him like she can see through to his soul. “And uh- I- I mean, I’m all for omega rights and omegas in sports, but- mixed Alpha and Omega football might be- dangerous. The size difference alone, there’s a lot of risk.”

She doesn’t look like she believes him at all about the lemonade, but she does look a little impressed by his views. He feels good about the interaction, overall. “Cool.” She says eventually, before towing Peter away.

He lets out a little yelp, but turns to wave gleefully at Steve.

The blond smiles, taking a sip of the lemonade and groaning. Fuck. It’s fantastic. It’s almost worth all the money he’s given away. It’s cool and refreshing and obviously homemade and it’s sweet- just like Peter.

That night, Peter posts a picture of him and MJ. He’s kissing her cheek and she’s smiling and relaxed in a way Steve didn’t know she was capable of. It’s cute. He double taps it and scrolls through the comments. Most of them are sweet and complimentary, but there are a few more lewd suggestions. Steve scowls but he’s not surprised. Though omega-omega relationships are taboo, the porn is hot.

He goes to sleep with the smell of lavender and cookies in his head, and the lingering taste of lemonade on his lips.

A week goes by without contact, with devastates Steve but it’s for the best. He’s a senior, and Peter is a wide-eyed, innocent first year, and he deserves someone as clever as he is. Steve should- he should focus on the pretty omegas in his own year. He should try to get thoughts of those lovely brown eyes out of his head.

And he does have things to be worried about.

As it stands, he is failing History of Math. He looks down at his most recent assignment grade and shudders. He’s going to have to beg Bruce to tutor him.

He steps into the classroom and looks for his friend for some humble grovelling when he hears-

“Steve?”

He turns slowly, but of course, it’s Peter. The only person with a voice as sweet and melodic and attached to Steve’s heart. He’s sitting in the front row, wearing a large purple sweater that swamps him deliciously, and a black ribbon choker that draws all the attention right to his delicious neck. Steve’s mouth waters with the need to claim. He’s already got his stuff set out and he beams, waving at Steve in amazement and gesturing to the empty seat beside him.

Steve takes a step forward instinctively, before he hears someone else call his name.

He turns to the hiss to see Bruce, nearer the back, a warning look on his face.

Fuck. Bruce is right. Peter is- Peter is too young, way too out of his league, he deserves someone better than Steve. He takes a step back from Peter towards Bruce and he sees it.

Hurt.

Hurt flashes across Peter’s face. It’s quick, almost impossible to catch, but his eyes widen and his lips part with impossible sadness, before that supportive smile and friendly beam comes back.

Steve feels like he’s been punched right in the gut .

He can’t bear the thought, not even for a second, that he’s hurt Peter’s feelings. Not the sweetest omega in the world, so he heads over and takes the seat almost viciously. Peter twists towards him, radiating happiness. “Steve!” He exclaims joyously, “I didn’t know you took this class.”

God, he smells amazing. He looks amazing. He’s so tiny and brilliant and- “Yeah, I uh- swapped in late. It was a mistake to be honest, I completely failed the last assignment. I was actually just gonna ask one of my friends for help.” He turns to point at Bruce, and Peter turns too.

Bruce waves at Peter and glares daggers at Steve.

“Oh!” Peter beams, “I know Bruce! We’re in science club together. He’s a senior isn’t he-“ Peter stops short, his eyes go wide and he seems to realise something. Suddenly, he’s scanning the classroom, eyes flickering from person to person and Steve frowns. “Everyone in here is a senior.” He whispers.

Steve looks around, and sure enough, Peter is right. He hums in surprise.

“Oh my god,” Peter closes his eyes (and oh god, his lovely eyelashes are so long and they curl against the cusp of his cheek) and he looks sad. Steve sits up in concern. “Dad,” Peter whispers to himself angrily.

Dad- oh. Oh.

“I can’t believe this,” the omega whispers, shaking his head in anguish. “He always does this! I can never just achieve something for myself! And-and I actually thought that I was meant to be in this class-“ he laughs humourlessly, sounding on the brink of tears, and Steve shakes his head.

“Hey,” he murmurs, collecting Peter’s tiny hands in his own. God, his skin is so soft. Softer than Steve ever imagined. “Don’t- don’t do that. C’mon. Your dad…he was only trying to help, you know?” He croons in a soft, soothing voice because omegas are so delicate and sensitive. “And you do. You do deserve to be here, you’re so smart. You’re brilliant-I mean, what did you get on that assignment? I just bet it was an A.”

Peter looks up at him shyly, his eyes wide and glittering like diamonds. Red crawls across his cheeks in affirmation.

“I knew it,” he squeezes his hands gently, “your dad just…he wants people to see how brilliant you are. Maybe he opened the door, but you deserve to be in this room. Sometimes professors need to…need to be shown how amazing students can be. I mean, god, Peter, you’re…” he trails off, because he wants to bury his head in Peter’s neck and declare his love for him and Peter is staring up at him in awe. Like he’s taken aback by the adoration in his voice. He clears his throat and shakes his head. “I mean- I had to flirt with the admissions woman to let me swap.”

Peter giggles, sniffling. “I bet that went down well. A tall handsome alpha flirting with her, she must’ve been a mess.”

Steve’s inner Alpha preens, and the rest of the lesson flies by in a flash.

They don’t become friends exactly, because alphas and omegas aren’t usually friends, but they form something of a kinship. They become partners whenever they’re in class together, and they kid and joke around. Peter follows him back on instagram and for the first time- Steve comments on a photo.

It’s a picture of Peter and one of his friends at ballet practise and Steve writes one word. Beautiful.

They don’t text or message, but it feels like something…tentative and precious. Steve wants to hold it close and treasure it even though he knows it’s wrong. They see each other a few times, not often, but a few times outside of class. Always quite by accident, and they talk and gaze at each other. Once, outside of the science building, they’d bumped into each other and eaten lunch together on a bench in the sunlight, and Peter had said he’d quite like to come and see Steve play one day.

Steve had said he’d like that quite a bit.

Of course, that doesn’t mean he’d actually thought it would happen.

But then one night, as the cold air whips at them as they stand at the edge of the pitch, Steve looks up to see Peter in the stands. It takes his breath away. Surely not. It must be a mirage. He’s there with MJ, wrapped up in a fluffy coat and cheering, with the college’s colours painted onto his cheeks. It’s the most beautiful, wholesome thing Steve has ever seen. He thinks he could do absolutely anything if Peter was cheering him on.

“Fuck, who’s that next to your omega?” Bucky asks eagerly, looking up at the stands.

Steve gapes. “What? MJ? And- he’s not - not my omega.”

“Is she attached?” Bucky asks, lacing up his boots.

“Is she- no, I don’t think so, but she’s- they’re freshman.”

Bucky laughs, shoving Steve a little. “They’re eighteen, Steve. I mean- Tony Stark would probably hunt you down and kill you, but they’re not children.”

It stays with Steve. There’s still stigma though, especially around older alphas and younger omegas. Omegas are naive and innocent and soft, they’re easily led astray and Alphas shouldn’t manipulate them and-and Steve just wants Peter to be happy. If Peter got an eighteen year old Alpha boyfriend Steve would kill him be happy for him.

Or he’d try.

Probably.

At the end of the game, he wants to run to the stands and scoop Peter into his arms and kiss him- but he doesn’t. He restrains himself, and sips at his water, trying to catch his breath as sweat pours down him. They’ve won. They’ve won and his inner-alpha feels so good at knowing they’ve impressed and proved triumph in front of their omega.

Shit- not his, not-

“Steve! You were amazing!” Peter gushes, and Steve whips around to see Peter right in front of him, tiny and adorable and flushed with exhilaration, nose red from the cold. “You were so fast!!!” He jumps into Steve’s arms and Steve holds him tight. It feels right to have him in his arms. Peter squeals, and nuzzles into his neck and holy shit he smells so good-

“Yeah, alright, I don’t wanna puke.” MJ rolls her eyes, though there’s a teasing lilt to her voice. Steve reluctantly sets Peter down and feels colour rush to his cheeks. He sighs at the sight of Bucky, having appeared out of nowhere and eager to be introduced.

“Dangerous, dangerous game,” Bruce mutters, brushing his hair as they get ready for Peter’s arrival. They’re all heading to some campus club, and Bucky and MJ are meeting them there. “I swear to god, if Tony Stark finds out I know you and ruins my chances of getting a job-“

“We’re not dating,” Steve insists.

Though he wishes they were. They’re so close now. He knows Peter’s scent by heart, his little smile, and sometimes before Peter posts a selfie, he sends it to Steve first. It’s always gorgeous: a pastel sweater and a glittery necklace and sometimes even ones with his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

One second it’s a photo of Peter with Ojai on his head smiling like the most adorable thing on the planet, the next it’s Peter with his hand balled in his sweater and pulling it down over his bare thighs in a gif that shows his chest and Steve watches it on repeat. Peter had confided in him that the day after he’d turned eighteen, modelling agencies and fashion designers had contacted him, eager for their chance to be features on his instagram, eager for some image or sensation to be promoted, and Peter had shied away from the attention- feeling no prettier than any other omega. 

“It’s so fucking great being a beta,” Bruce says to himself, neatening his collar one last time. “I can be above to all this bullshit.”

Steve scoffs. “You don’t think he’s gorgeous?”

“I said above, not blind.”

And then there’s a knock at the door.

They look at each other nervously, before Steve wipes his sweaty palms on his jean-clad thighs and opens it.

Peter is a vision of pink. His lips are dusky rose and he has fuschia eyeshadow and his pink meshtop is as snug as a second skin as it dips into his highwaisted pale pink denim shorts. It’s the sexiest thing on the face of the planet. 

Steve gapes; at a loss for words.

Luckily, Bruce isn’t.

“Holy shit.” 

Read part two here (contains links to ao3 options). 

[hi-i-love-u-bitch]

My Sides 2.0

So, I’ve done my Sides before being that I had been inspired by @asofterfan‘s art work of their sides. But mine turned out really half-assed and meh so I upgraded them. (CLICK FOR BETTER QUALITY BECAUSE TUMBLR IS SHIT!)

Mimsy “Momo” “Mama Mo” (Morality)       Pronouns: They/Them She/Her

*Likes*

Flowers

Sweets

Seashells

Warm Weather

Stuffed Aimals

70s Aesthetic

Puns (accidentally forgot that one)

+Dislikes+

Ignorance

Confrontation

Sand

Assholes in general

Close Toed Shoes

About Them:

Has been numbed by life so much to the point where nothing can faze them

May come off as cold at times

Still, somehow, very empathetic

Closed off to their own emotions but very in tuned to others

“I don’t care,” They said, caringly, as they cared deeply.

Unknowingly has become the Mom Friend of the Sides

A bit of a temper

Stern but caring, even if they don’t show it at times

Helps keep Anne under control (they’re the only one that can)

Kind of a hippy

Wants to do the right thing but also doesn’t want to hurt anybody

Very blunt and to the point

Very quick to turn violent if one of their friends or loved ones are in danger/distressed

Surprisingly very forgiving if you do harm on to them

Doesn’t really communicate their feelings well with the others which endlessly frustrates Lola

Doesn’t open up to Lola much because she believes he won’t understand since he’s logic, there for unable to process emotion

Unknowingly has a tendency to coddle Kiki a lot

Has nicknames for all the sides: Kiki is Sugar, Lola is Honey, and Anne is Sweetie.

Lola (Logic)      Pronouns: They/Them He/Him

*Likes*

Biology

Zoology

Psychology

Insects

Crunchy Peanut Butter

Funky Bow Ties

Learning New Things

Non-Fiction Books

+Dislikes+

Incorrect Grammar

Math

Deadlines

Humidity

Not knowing things

About Them:

Excited and always ready to learn

Biggest teachers pet

Will literally raise their hand to ask a question

Always researching the weirdest things late at night when they can’t sleep

Basically Bill Nye the Science Guy

Prefers comfort over professionalize

I dye my hair a lot and they kind of took a liking to it, thus the two green streaks in their hair

Very curious by nature and has gotten in a lot of accidental trouble because of it

Tends to ramble off topic sometimes

Doesn’t really understand emotions or social cues that well but is trying their best to learn

Always writing things down in note books just in case if it’s important and they might forget

Pretty emotional for someone who’s not supposed to have/understand emotions

Anne seems to like them more then the others so she doesn’t tend to pick on Lola that much unless they’re rambling and need to be told to shut up

Lola and Kiki get along the best because of their shared interest in books as well as working together in a lot of projects

Wishes they could bond better with Mimsy but the emotional side tends to keep them at arms length

Doesn’t really think of themselves as smart

Kiki (Creativity)     Pronouns: They/Them

*Likes*

Reading

Writing

Poetry

Fan Fiction

Dungeons n Dragons

Art

Knitting

Cartoons

Musicals

Murder Mystery Thrillers

+Dislikes+

Writers Block

Research Papers

Philosophy

Beowulf

Avocado

About Them:

Very, very, very, low self esteem

Easily pushed around (mainly by Anne)

As a million and one ideas but can never seem to finish anything

Gets excited by thing but is quick to close back in on themselves because they thing they’re annoying

The ultimate super fan!

Perfectionist

Is there biggest critic

Very jittery and speaks really fast when nervous

Coffee is there life source

Sleep? Who is she? I don’t know her!

Has no sense of style but doesn’t really care at this point

Again, hates Beowulf with the fury of a thousands suns because of that one English teacher my senior year!

Likes to make personalized gifts for their friends

The only time them and Anne work together is when they’re giving me nightmares! (I suffer from chronic night terrors)

They’re close to Lola the most and doesn’t mind hearing the logical side ramble, the information he has to say is interesting and useful for more stories and projects

Doesn’t like that Mimsy baby’s them like they’re some sort of glass doll

Doesn’t know why Anne bullies them....they used to be friends long ago after all...

Anne (Anxiety)    Pronouns: She/Her

*Likes*

Witchcraft

80s Rock

The Beatles & Queen

Ballet

Cthulhu

Scary Movies

Gore Horror Movies

Black & Purple

Terrorizing Kiki

+Dislikes+

Loud Noises

Socializing

Bright Lights

Vinegar

Authority

About Them:

She’s a bitch

There’s no use in sugar coating it, Anne is a bitch and she knows it

Extremely nihilistic and pessimistic

Constantly reminding everyone of their impending doom

Is the grunge goth aesthetic

Tells things how they are even if it makes her look bad

Hates when people tell her what to do

She is the embodiment of all my repressed anger issues

Very self destructive both physically and mentally

Actually kind of hates herself

Likes to release all of her frustrations and insecurities out Kiki by verbally bullying them

Kiki doesn’t fight back or say anything so she keeps on doing it

Actually feels really guilty about it all but continues to pick on Kiki because she’s convinced she’s at the point of no return so might as well continue being the bad guy

Can not for the life of her bring herself to pick on Lola

The nerd is the embodiment of an excited puppy and Anne may be a bitch but she isn’t the type of bitch to kick a puppy even if it gets annoying at times

Is lowkey scared of Mimsy but also kind of respects them

Secretly looking for her approve and acceptance

Does not help that Kiki is obviously Mimsiy’s favorite

[that-was-a-bit-stupid-of-you]

tysm for the tag hannah @the-chronicles-of-a-bookworm <33

1. Are you named after anyone?

ah no, and honestly I'm slightly glad that I'm not named after any of my family members because some of their names are pretty difficult- and long. So nope.

2. When was the last time you cried?

I don't exactly remember, but it was sometime in December I think. Have been numbing my emotions by focusing on my finals since 😃

3. Do you have kids?

God no, I'm 15, firstly, and secondly I would never, ever want to have kids- and even if I do, it'll be only through adoption

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot?

Definitely more than a normal human being should- I'm pretty sure I have made multiple people hate me because of that

5. Anyone realizes that there is no question number 5???

6. What's your eye colour?

Dark brown I think

7. Scary movies or happy endings?

If by scary you mean horror movies like "it" or "the grudge" or "conjuring" please never ever play a single second of that to me please I won't be able to sleep for the next 4 years

So happy endings for sure

8. Any special talents?

I'm confused as to what is considered as special but I can move my ears without touching them or anything- I can make them move by themselves like dogs do

Also I have double jointed thumbs

9. Where were you born?

India

10. What are your hobbies?

Reading, writing stories, poetry or anything similar, any sort of art (sketching, digital, water colour, etc), debating or any kind of public speaking tbh, researching endlessly about everything, binge-watching every TV show to ever exist just so I can make fun of it, listening to music, singing and tbh I'm open to any sort of thing that stimulates my brain (life with adhd basically)

11. Have you any pets?

Nope, allergic to most dogs and cats and my parents won't buy me any pets anyways, not even a bird or fish

12. What sports do you play/have played?

None, ever.

13. How tall are you?

5'3-5'4 (yea I'm short asf)

14. Favorite subject in school?

Physics, maths and history

15. Dream job?

Space scientist- I'm in love with space and physics and the idea of researching about it is beautiful

So is the idea of researching oceans, or the past or the human brain, so those are also some options, but space scientist is still on top

tagging: @karma-is-a-queen @dreamerinsleep @taylorswifff @nuninho2000 @headcanonsandmore7 @harryandginnydeservesbetter @moonythendwitch + anyone who wants to join!!

15 Questions, 15 Mutuals

Thanks for the tag @sillyliterature !!

1. Are you named after anyone? 

No, my mom suggested naming me after one of her friends but my parents didn't end up picking that name!

2. When was the last time you cried?

This month, can't remember exactly when but definitely this month

3. Do you have kids?

Not at the moment!

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot?

I used to, but I've dropped it as I've gotten older. Now I only use it to make exaggerated jokes.

6. What's your eye color? 

Blue

7. Scary movies or happy endings? 

Happy endings for sure, I've never been a fan of scary movies

8. Any special talents?

Hmmm... I can do voices and (some) accents? Idk if that counts but it's really useful for dnd, haha~

9. Where were you born? 

The Netherlands

10. What are your hobbies? 

The biggest one is writing for sure! I also love playing dnd, playing video games, reading, visiting bookstores, going on walks, singing (not especially good at it but love it anyway), sewing... I'll try just about anything, but those are my favs!

11. Have you any pets? 

If my family's cat counts, then yes, even if he sadly doesn't live at my place. If I could, I'd adopt 2 cats right now.

12. What sports do you play/have played?

Right now, none. I don't like sports, generally speaking, though I love dancing and used to do kickboxing.

13. How tall are you? 

like 168cm I think

14. Favorite subject in school? 

English, Spanish, History, and depending on the teacher, Chemistry

15. Dream job? 

Full-time author... that would be so amazing

Tagging: @jillfizzart @megatraven @vespersposts @gehaktbal @jotarowan @flatescardos @nicolasadrabbles @ahhhnorealnamesallowed @shakethatsassyass @youvegottrouble @hauntedgarden95 @gaymergoose @miharu-ojou-sama @chiaki-c and @indoctrinates (if you feel like it, no pressure!)

[folkstudies]

College Personalities Masterpost

[This is supposed to be tongue-in-cheek, and I get that everyone will have a different opinion. No offense intended!]

***

Universities

Harvard: The Stanford of the East. They go to Harvard, sweaty :))), and will make sure you know it. Senator’s sons: brash, smart, and never loved enough as children. Marxists who will graduate only to become CEOs. High School Salutatorians.

Yale: Power gays and hyperfocused law students. Secret societies, a housing system like Hogwarts’s, and a fistful of adderall in every pocket. High School Valedictorians.

Dartmouth: Frat guys, athletic stoners, and upper middle class mountaineers. Imagine a Penn student who spends their summer semester at Brown, vaping their way through business school.

Penn: Future opioid abusing bankers, who party hard but have enough connections to compensate for their academic performance. Like Dartmouth but not as chill; like Princeton but not as prissy.

Brown: They would have went to Berkeley, but Mother insisted on an Ivy. Blue hair, red flannel, white skin. They’ve got universal pass fail but it’s taboo to take advantage of the system. The creative version of every subject–their CompSci students go to Pixar and their Biomed students go to Calico.

Cornell: Engineers from old money families and Conrad Hilton fanboys. Are they depressed because they live in Ithaca or because of their crushing workloads? Teenage Kurt Vonneguts. Wealthy, but it’s not always obvious.

Columbia: In a one sided dick measuring contest with Yale. Heavy workloads, heavy drinking. Erudite, ambitious (and they know it). The angel to NYU’s devil. A fast track to the New York Times and Wall Street Journal.

Princeton: Secretly thinks Harvard is for the impoverished. Eating clubs. Well developed Econ and Math departments, but UChicago is catching up. Great undergraduate teaching, especially if you fit in with the culture.

Stanford: They’d have gone to Harvard, but California is the closest thing Earth’s got to Eden and Massachusetts is…clammy. Massive startup culture. Duck syndrome and stress culture. Elitist, especially about class and status, but somehow gets a pass.

Caltech: “Hey MIT, we’re you but stronger.” Pretends that test scores trump all other metrics of success, because they’re *Number One at the SAT, baby.* Something of a male dominated culture, lighthearted.

MIT: Robotics, engineering, business, and math. 90s computer nerd aesthetic but in an ironic way. Sunlight averse. 1) study hard 2) ??? 3) profit

Duke: Beautifully gothic. Has successfully implemented a caste system, albeit informally. Intelligent, southern socialites. United by basketball, divided by highschool-esque cliques.

UChicago: Will fight the Ivies on sight. Very good at Econ and Law with an intense classical “core” curriculum. Have your weekly panic attack in a stunning glass egg-inspired library. “If you study hard enough you can become God.”

Vanderbilt: The scent of Tennessee honey in the trees. Frat culture. Los Angeles’s beauty standards, Mississippi’s snark.

Johns Hopkins: Students are required to duel you if you call it “John Hopkin’s.” People who have been premed since third grade. Academically intense without being prestige obsessed–I’d cautiously call it “well balanced.” They’re there to become doctors and medical researchers, period.

Berkeley: Study while a riot between Trump Supporters and Antifa rages outside. If Calculus III has you down and depressed, pick up a can of mace and assault somebody. Competes with Stanford, is the champion of Public Universities. Insanely expensive area to live in. Most students are too absorbed in their academics (read: 3.3 GPA CompSci qualifier) to worry about much else.

UMich: Berkeley but with snow. Ann Arbor is as good as college towns get, but has almost dangerous levels of school spirit. International students with $4k apartments and $850 winter coats. “Harvard waitlisted me but I’m not even mad.”

UCLA: Everyone is a former premed. Valley girls and the Asian students they make problematic comments about. Frat guys lost in a scary world where you can’t pass a midterm with a hangover. Cal’s politically stable cousin.

USC: “The University of Spoiled Children” still rings true sometimes, but not as much anymore. There are some seriously competitive academic programs hidden behind Los Angeles’s gauzy party culture. Loyal alumni.

WUSTL: Cooperative with a competitive biology program. Low school spirit, largely because their last star athlete graduated in 1943. Prominent STEM culture, but not exactly nerdy. A midwestern fusion of Brown and Columbia.

Carnegie Mellon: UPitt’s smaller, bourgeois sister. Cliquey nerds–a Drama student would rather die than speak with an Engineer, and visa versa. CompSci champions.

Northwestern: Nerdwestern and Northwasted. They went to private high schools and it’s obvious. Show up to your Art History final drunk on rosé. A version of UChicago where you won’t get mugged on campus.

UWash: Architecture designed by Athena herself. The premed children of Microsoft engineers. White boys wearing colored socks and Nike sandals. Washington rains endlessly with the tears of tormented Amazon employees.

Rice: A refreshing dose of New England in the depths of Texas. “Hmm, Rice? I’ve never heard of it!” Spanish architecture, conquistador vibes. You’ve got a fair chance of finding the library packed at 1am, depending on what week it is. The MIT of the South.

Penn State: Drinking school with a football problem. Parties harder than Miami U. Not really bothered that they get confused with UPenn. Mild frat culture.

Boston University: Rich girls and self centered frat bros. Hipsters and hipster engineers. Athletes in the CGS (“Crayons, Glue, and Scissors”) school. Wealthy slackers who will regale you with tales of Martha’s Vineyard over break.

UVA: Preppy but not on purpose. Public school snobs. Southern-ish and definitely conservative. DC kids with a seemingly endless flow of money from home. The wealthiest, whitest school that’s not called Harvard.

LACs

Williams: Oxford and Harvard’s laid back son. Amherst can suck a dick. The bourgeois version of outdoorsy. Sports culture despite not being in a major division.

Amherst: Prelaw or business. Pastel polos, party drugs, and a general Gilded Age aesthetic. General distaste for the hoi polloi.

Swarthmore: “Swatkward.” Highly academic atmosphere, no time for social skills. Beautiful leafy campus. UPenn students aren’t shit compared to us. Stress culture so intense it would make a UChicago student weep.

Tufts: Don’t ask us if we got denied at the Ivies. Friendly, midsize school that maintains the atmosphere of an LAC. Very good International Relations and Philosophy (Dr. Daniel Dennett!) programs.

Reed: Swarthmore but with a lot of LSD. Atheism, communism, and free love. No one here knows a goddamn thing about sex ed. Nuclear reactor that students can train to work at.

Grinnell: Brown’s midwestern cousin. Concrete, glass, and corn. Well developed STEM programs, especially for an LAC. Close knit community, extreme hookup culture. Quirky. Emphasis on writing skill. Gigantic per-student endowment.

Carleton: Trimester system that intensifies the academic culture. Cold winters, warm hearts. Parties more than a typical LAC but there’s still a sense of awkwardness. The smart version of eccentric. Mini Northwestern.

Bowdoin: Not a single person here has ever known a moment of hardship. Dining hall food that could earn a Michelin star. Rich, white, and cliquey. A pretty significant “old sport” culture. Everyone pays full tuition.

Pomona: Like a university packaged as an LAC. All the benefits of California, located next to the Greatest American City—Los Angeles. Large endowment, lots of opportunities. Flagship of the Claremont colleges. Mini Stanford.

Harvey Mudd: A tiny population of quirky engineers. The one true STEM LAC. Mini MIT. Male dominated, socially awkward, highly academic.

Middlebury: Bourgeoisie teenagers in the wilderness. Has a reputation for excellent language programs despite that fame stemming largely from summer specific programs. Quirky, in a reserved way. An amalgam of Dartmouth and Columbia.

Oberlin: What conservatives think liberals are like. A dot of blue in a sea of red. Theatre, music, and dance. “My parents are making me double major in Econ.”

[frxggi]

[VICTON] Cold As Ice

Listen.. I fuc-look at me-I fuckin-LOOK AT ME IN MY EYES-I fucking love bad boy aus A little Hanse (HELL YEAH) scenario based off of this post  I had loads of fun writing this, so I hope you all have fun reading it  Genre: Fluff  Word count: 3,484 Feedback is always appreciated, Thank u and goodnight

Contrary to popular belief, you are not a scaredy cat. Sure, you can barely make it through haunted houses during Halloween time, but isn’t everyone like that? And of course, rollercoasters were entirely out of the question, but so what? Lots of people are afraid of rollercoasters. Arachnophobia is one of the most common fears. Clowns can be unsettling to everyone. You’re not scared of the dark; it’s just the uncertainty that not being able to see presents that you dislike. You most definitely are not a scaredy cat.

However, there is something that will never cease to have your knees buckling, to have you shaking in your boots. Well, more like someone. It’s not secret that you have a pure, unhinged and unadulterated fear of none other than Do Hanse. He’s your average macho man crossed with 1980’s bad boy rebellion. Throw an ice cold attitude and foul mouth on top, and you’ve got a concoction of all the right things to have you trembling every time he draws near. You’ve crossed paths with this Do Hanse far too many times for your liking.

The first time you ever saw him was in your junior year. Hanse had just transferred to your rather prestigious academy of the arts (which, frankly, he had no business attending). It happened one fateful Wednesday; you were late for class and busy rushing down the now empty hallway, books held tightly to your chest. You rounded a corner entirely way too fast and crashed right into him on his leisurely way to a class that, now that you think about it, you’re sure he never even attended. Your books tumbled to the ground, and he only offered an irritated, “watch it!” as you scrambled to pick them up. You stood, countless apologies falling from your lips and that was when you locked eyes. His eyes were narrowed, his stare sending an ice cold shiver down your spine. You hadn’t ever seen eyes like that before, and you found something-you’re not sure what- so utterly captivating in those deep brown eyes. You’ll never admit to it aloud, but you still do. You sputtered, mumbling out another timidly rushed apology as you took a bow, subsequently and inadvertently headbutting his chest. Hanse only clicked his tongue, forcefully pushing past you as if you were in his way, even though he knew full well he could have easily stepped aside and continued on.

Needless to say, the experience had your skin crawling, your teeth chattering in fear as you eventually made it to class.

Much to your dismay, you had soon come to find that the tough guy you had met in the halls was the newest addition to your literature class. Almost immediately, he was sent to detention for mouthing off to the teacher, and you rarely saw him in class because of it. It wasn’t uncommon to hear about Do Hanse’s Latest Rumble, whether it be through the grapevine or through the victims themselves. He absolutely was not the type of boy you wanted to mess with, and within the first month of his attendance at his new school, you easily learned one thing: Stay Away From Do Hanse. Which, of course, was easier said than done. You shared only one class with him, but it seemed as though he would follow you everywhere you went. You knew better, of course. He couldn’t have actually been following you, right? No, of course not. That’d be weird.

Weird, however, was perhaps the number one descriptor when talking to Hanse’s friends. They didn’t see him as the scary guy he is, but rather a misunderstood soul with a troubled past who had been wronged by society. Halfway through the semester, you had come to learn that Hanse lived alone rather than with his parents. Not only did he live alone, but he was notorious for being branded the Kid That No One Wanted. It was through Seungsik, your mutual friend, that you’d learned Hanse grew up without his parents to guide him. The court system at the time was anything but just, so he easily became lost amidst a slew of foster homes and misplaced adoption papers. A tragic story, in all reality, but Hanse wasn’t exactly at the top of your charity list.

The times when Hanse was absent were those you both cherished and loathed. One instance, in particular, Hanse was put out of commission for nearly two weeks; a result of a scuffle that hadn’t turned out in his favor. He spent his time away from school in the hospital, and when he returned he was covered in bruises and bandages. Your chest ached every time you caught a glimpse of the scratches on his face, or his swollen lip. He looked absolutely pitiful like that, and, were it not for the icy glare that pierced through your defenses still plastered on his face, you would have felt sorry for him.

As fate would have it, you found yourself intently listening to yet another story of Do Hanse roughing it up with someone he didn’t like. The details were missing, but the gist of the situation was that apparently some guy in the drama club had looked at Hanse in what was, unfortunately, the wrong way. Given that, Hanse supposedly snapped and knocked the guy’s teeth in. It was a story that, regardless of its legitimacy, chilled you to the bone.

From then on you had made it your top priority to avoid the boy with the charmingly stone like stare at all costs. Every time he drew near, you went far. You did your absolute best to keep yourself off the radar of Do Hanse, and it had worked. Now, Hanse of course, didn’t like it one bit. A secret, so taboo that only his most trusted friends know, was that macho man Do Hanse had the hots for a girl in his literature class. Chan, his partner in crime, though admittedly less aggressive, demanded details. Hanse’s lips turned up into a devilish smile that would surely have you weak in the knees, and he casually threw out your name to his group of friends. “Y/N? The girl who placed first in the poetry reading? I know her!” Seungsik excitedly exclaimed, and Hanse’s face fell in an instant. His ears grew hot and embarrassment laced his tone as he confirmed that yes, you were the one he had his eyes on. Unfortunately for him, though, he never got the opportunity to see you after his hospital discharge.

You had successfully managed to get through the entirety of your second semester without crossing paths with Do Hanse, but, luck was never really on your side. Which brings you to now, the first day of your senior year. Your teacher, Mr. Han, has aged gracefully, evident in the gray that now tints a number of dark strands of hair, the silver dollar making its appearance known on the back of his head. He’s a sweet old man, one who’s endlessly patient with his students, who’s maybe a bit too passionate about Western Literature. Never in your 3 years as his student has he wronged you, but that’s changed now. It’s a new year, after all. Due to some new policies, it’s now mandatory that Mr. Han provide a seating chart to all his classes. Although it’s something so trivial, Mr. Han is adamant on enforcing the new rule. The new seating chart is posted on the whiteboard at the front of the room. Your eyes scan the piece of paper, searching for your name and when you find it, your stomach sinks and you curse to any and every God there is. You are sat next to none other than Mr. Macho Man himself, Do Hanse. As luck would have it, Hanse happens to be absent on this very important first day of school. Typical of him. You’re thanking the Gods you condemned only moments ago as you plop down in your seat. When class is over, you’ll politely request a change of seats. Mr. Han has never refused a request of yours before, why would he now?

You soon come to realize that Mr. Han would definitely refuse your request for a seat change, his firm, “I don’t make the rules.” leaving a lasting impression in your mind. You don’t have time to think of a solution, however; you’re next class is math, and you need to be on your A Game if you don’t want to fall behind. Of course! You’ll just skip class tomorrow! Easy. Simple. Perfect fix. Mr. Han had said earlier in the period that tomorrow would be a repeat lesson for those who couldn’t make it. It’s a great idea, you muse.

Tomorrow comes and goes, and now it’s Wednesday, and you’re treading the halls alongside two of your good friends. They greet you with warm smiles. “Hey, did you guys see Hanse in class yesterday?” You question. Your friends both nod. “Well, did he say anything about being sat next to me?” “Not really. I don’t think he cares, honestly.” One of them says. You breathe a sigh of relief, though your nerves are quickly back in place as you glance through the classroom window. Hanse is already in his seat with his earphones in. Your friends enter the class and take their rightful seats towards the front of the room while you linger just outside the door, taking the chance to hype yourself up, to calm your nerves. You smack yourself gently on the cheek, a newfound determination as you march into the classroom.

“Newfound determination” doesn’t do much. You get to your seat, pausing a brief moment to assess Hanse’s attitude before you hesitantly take your seat. Hanse is fiddling on his phone, paying you no mind, yet you feel yourself tremble simply at his presence. “Stop shaking.” He says cooly, causing you to straighten in your seat immediately. A noise of surprise leaves your throat. In the next moment, Hanse is ripping his earbuds from his ears, tossing them unceremoniously onto his desk. You avert your gaze, trying to look at anything but him as your fingers timidly play with the hem of your skirt. He leans over the desk, peering over at you. You brave a glance at him. The jacket of his uniform is unbuttoned, a black t-shirt draped loosely across his torso. He’s got his legs crossed, and you can see the bright fire engine red of his shoes. It’s a blatant violation of the school’s dress code, and you hide yourself in the thought of him being potentially being caught and sent to detention on the first day of school. That would be a shame, too, since the look suits him so well. Hanse himself is quite handsome, though you’ll never admit to it. His voice, low and smooth and cool, breaks through your thoughts. “Shit, am I that scary?” He asks with a chuckle that has no right making your heart flutter, and his tone is laced with amusement. His lips are quirked up into a smile that, given any other circumstance, would take your breath away. You can’t find the courage to respond, and at this, Hanse leans back in his chair. He clears his throat, then his voice, demanding, resonating just loudly enough to be heard among the murmurs of students, sounds throughout the classroom. “You all have three fucking seconds to get your asses out of here!” And then they’re scattering like roaches, all out of their seats in a matter of seconds. You get up to leave as well, wanting desperately to be rid of this situation, but a hand on your wrist stops you. Hanse’s grip is firm, unrelenting, yet it’s far gentler than you would have ever thought him capable of.

“Not you. Sit down.” And then he’s pulling you back into your seat. You’ve no choice but to look at him now. “It’s just you and me now, little flower, so I’ll ask you again,” He says, and his voice is much softer this time, barely above a whisper as he repeats his question from earlier. “Am I really that scary?” You’re blushing, your face is burning because his face is so close, far too close for your liking and his eyes are searching yours almost desperately for an answer. You nod. That grin is back, and your heart skips a beat because he’s handsome, far too handsome and he has absolutely no business looking so good and he has no right to be having this effect on you. “Why?” He continues to pry. You can’t possibly answer him, the weight of his gaze like dozens of stones on your chest. Hanse leans back in his chair, his ringed finger tapping on the desk and sending a sharp tang through the room. “You know, I can count to three-” “You hurt people!” You blurt out, effectively cutting him off and causing his eyes to widen the slightest bit. “Yeah? What of it?” He presses. The amusement is gone from his tone. “Is it so bad to hurt people that have hurt you first?” “You sent a kid to the nurse’s office just for looking at you!” You exclaim, as if it were the simplest concept to understand. Hanse looks taken aback, blinking a few times. “That’s why you’re scared of me?” He asks, “Some shitty fucking rumours?” His voice rises a bit, causing you to avert your gaze. You nod when he demands an answer. You can hear him shuffling, snatching his headphones from the desk and rising from his seat. “Fuck’s sake, you’re just like everyone else.” He’s marching out of the classroom, but he stops and turns to you before leaving, “I don’t care how you do it, but I want that seat empty by tomorrow. Got it?” The iciness of his stare causes gooseflesh to prickle your skin, and the hardness of his voice has returned. Class goes by without him after that. The following day, you’re sat in the cafeteria telling Seungsik about your experience as you idly push the food around on your tray. Literature is your next class, and your gut twists into a mess of nerves. “Listen, Y/N, I know it may sound hard to believe, but Hanse is pretty infatuated with you. I think it broke his heart to find that you believed all those rumors about him.” Seungsik speaks softly, sensing that this is a topic to tread lightly. “That kid that he sent to the infirmary? He only got tangled up with Hanse because he kept running his mouth; said that Hanse wasn’t nearly as tough and scary as everyone thought he was. And if there’s anything you need to know about Hanse, Y/N, it’s that he hates lies and he always has a point to prove.” “That doesn’t excuse it, Seungsik!” You reply. “I know it doesn’t, but hear me out. Hanse has always had this wall built up around him. He’s like a hawk, and if anyone threatens to break that wall, he doesn’t hesitate to put them in their place. He’s really not a bad person. He just doesn’t… He really only has me and the rest of the guys. And trust me when I say, he really likes you. He’s always going on and on about how kind and honest you are, because he’s never seen that in a girl before, you know.” You don’t respond, instead choosing to mull over Seungsik’s words. “Look, all I’m saying is that even though it may not seem like it, you really hurt him yesterday. And yes,” he interjects before you get the chance to throw in a snarky response. “He can hurt. You didn’t hear it from me, but he’s actually as fragile as precious china.”

That can’t possibly be true. Hanse got his feelings hurt? Impossible. Hanse doesn’t have feelings.

Hanse is absent from school for the rest of the week, and, ego be damned, you’re mildly upset that you don’t get to see him. You had taken Seungsik’s words to heart, and are now intent on apologizing to Hanse, no matter how mortifying it might be. Aside from that, you can’t sweep the knowledge that Do Hanse likes you under the rug. The boy is absurdly good looking, and he’s eons out of your league. It’s no secret that he has plenty of girls falling at his feet, charmed into oblivion by his bad boy persona, so why does he like you, of all people? You consider yourself to be painfully average when compared with other girls at your school.

It’s been a week and a half since you’ve seen Hanse, and that was long enough for you to whip yourself into shape. You’re dead set on apologizing to him. Plus, you’ve unfortunately (or fortunately?) developed a hopeless crush on the boy. You hear from Seungsik that today is the day to expect Hanse back at school, and with his friend’s help, you’re able to pinpoint the exact station at which he catches the train to school. You wake up extra early, and throw on the tiniest bit of makeup (not because you want to impress Hanse or anything. No, definitely not.) before you’re out the door. You’re across the street, trying your best to peer over the cars speeding by in hopes that you’ll catch sight of him. The streetlight overhead turns red, and the oncoming traffic screeches to a halt, and that’s when you catch sight of the boy you’ve been unable to stop thinking about for the past week.

“Do Hanse!” You yell out, mustering up all your might. You book it across the street, determined to make it to him before the light turns green. He turns to see you as you’re dashing into the road, maneuvering between cars, and his eyes widen. You make it to his side just as the light turns green; the traffic picks back up as quickly as it stopped. Hanse fixes you with a glare, spitting out a, “What do you want?” You straighten your figure. Hanse is not much taller than you, but you feel so utterly small under his watchful eyes. Now is not the time for cowardice, though. “I’m sorry.” Are the first words out of your mouth. Hanse doesn’t seem to be effected, so you continue before he gets to brush you off. “I’m sorry for believing stupid rumors. I talked with Seungsik and I now realize that what I believed wasn’t what really happened and I realize that it hurt you and that wasn’t my intent so I’m here to apologize.” As you speak, you don’t notice how Hanse’s gaze morphs into one of surprise and adoration. You’re still rambling when a pair of calloused hands grabs your face and then his lips are on yours and he’s kissing you and oh God, Hanse is kissing you. His lips are soft against yours and you can taste his mint flavored lip balm as he puts ages of pent up emotions into the kiss, and your heart speeds up and your eyes flutter shut because you enjoy the feeling of Hanse’s lips against your own far more than you should. When he breaks away from you, his eyes are the size of saucers, and his cheeks are a flushed a bright crimson, the embarrassment of his action settling over his shoulders. “Do Hanse, do you like me?” You ask, determination lacing your words. Hanse chuckles, his eyes wandering for a moment before they meet yours. “Yeah, I do.” He says nonchalantly, a stark contrast to the sheepish grin on his face. His expression morphs into one of surprise and frustration, though, only mere seconds after. “But what the fuck is with you, running into the road like that! Are you crazy?! You could have been hit!” This causes you to laugh, a smile stretching from ear to ear as you toss your head back. “I’ll have you know that I like you too. Not that you were wondering.” You say, folding your arms across your chest and jutting your lower lip out in a pout that has Hanse struggling to stay standing. “And uhh, the light was red, by the way.” At this, Hanse’s ears burn with embarrassment, and he clicks his tongue. The train pulls into the station just as he loops his arm around your shoulder, what you initially think to be a sweet gesture, only to shriek out a “hey!” when he puts you into a haphazard headlock. “Shut it.” He barks, but unlike before, there’s no malice in his words. He leads you onto the train like that, and you smile to yourself.

Do Hanse might be foul mouthed with an icy stare, but he most definitely is not a bad boy.

[markwatkinsconsumerguide]

Consumer Guide / No.75 / with singer-songwriter, Bronwen Exter.

MW : Introduce me to the band…

BE : I'll list them in order of how long we've been playing music together:

Jennifer Middaugh - Vocal harmonies. Before a song is even done I know I can't sing it without her. Sometimes I write harmony lines explicitly, and sometimes she comes up with them. Jen is a BFF, I always let her order the sushi because she knows how to do so in a completely decadent way. She can sing circles around me. We met around 2000 at the Cosmic Joke Collective in NYC hosted by our Parisian friend, Mary Noelle Dana, or maybe at the off Broadway show De La Guarda. Our first collaboration was ‘Willow Weep For Me’. We ducked off at a loft party on the Lower East Side to put it together as a surprise that turned out to be an unforgettable collaboration, still going strong.

Michael Stark - Piano and Organ. In 2009, Jen and Mike and I spent a whole July night until daybreak making a recording of my song, ‘Junkyard’. Around dawn, by the time we were using beer bottle percussion and heavy chains for ambiance on the track, all the files were lost. It was so tragically funny we've been playing together ever since. Mike has all the charts to all my songs on the same old ragged pieces of paper. I make up chords and he names them and interprets them for everyone else. He knows my music inside and out, in some cases better than I do.

Matthew Saccuccimorano - Drums. Matt produced my second record, ‘Junkyard’, when we were a trio with a different drummer, (beloved Dana Billings). Matt is grouchy and loveable. He has the coolest family and smartest, most talented kids in the world. When Dana got too busy with another band he is in, I was really excited for the silver lining of bringing Matt into the band. He loves to rehearse, and he brings a production sensibility to rehearsals. In return, I sometimes bring him cookies. We both love loud drums, though we have completely different definitions of what loud drums are.

John Young - Electric and Upright Bass. Jen and I have also known John for almost 20 years. He plays in the cult NYC band Spottiswoode and His Enemies, one of our all time favorite acts and influences. John loves coffee, and John is great at talking. He definitely comes across as extremely smart, and I suspect he actually is.

Jason Shegogue - Guitar and Lap Steel. As Matt says, every single thing Jason plays sounds like a record. Jason collects old gear and never makes fun of my guitar playing. He is awfully nurturing, for being so good.

Venissa Santi - Vocal harmonies. Venissa learned two full sets of Jen's parts last spring because of a late conflict Jen had with our local release show, which speaks to her chops. Like Jen, she sings jazz in her own band. Once that show was done, once she had written her own parts to some new songs, once we heard the way we could all do three part harmonies, once we realized how fun she is in a band, once we realized splitting a couple hundred bucks seven ways is just about like splitting it six and nobody really cares anyway, she had to stay.

MW : Tell me about your new album…

BE : We recorded ‘Snakeskin, There’ at Old Soul Studios in Catskill, NY, where I made my first record ‘Elevator Ride’ in 2005. Kenny Siegal produced and recorded. It is available digitally on all the usual places, and physically through CD Baby or directly from me, in person.

The title comes from a lyric in track 3: ‘The Creature That You Knew’. The song is about a snake or, rather, the fact that I kept finding a snakeskin at my doorstep and it kind of freaked me out, but then I took inspiration thinking about metamorphosis and personal growth, how much better I liked myself living in a little house in the middle of nowhere than I had when I lived in NYC. At the same time, the bridge of the song is nostalgic for Paris musically and lyrically, and all the trappings of a more cosmopolitan life, so there's something unresolved in it.

The lyrics on this record come roughly half from dreams and half from stark life in Upstate NY, married and a new mom. There was a rawness to the time I wrote it, a lot of raw love. It's not an album of lullabies - I've also been called dreamy in the past, and I like to think that the dreaminess of these songs is more like when you wake up, can't shake it, and go, what the F was that?!

There are a couple singles, too - ‘Shapeshifter’ and ‘The Chase’, which is a three minute rock song. I wrote ‘The Chase’ with my wife Rachel on a picnic blanket. It's about the lure of the bad ex we all have.

MW : From your website, you seem to like PIE CHARTS?!  What were your best subjects at school, and how did you actually get on with mathematics?!!

BE : I am terrible at math. I love history, and I love literature. The pie charts were a joke, but there’s way too little opportunity to not take yourself seriously promoting music, so I went with it.

I was fascinated with the idea of how transparent my songwriting could get if I challenged myself to be more clear and specific, thematically. Along the same lines as trying not to write songs in A minor, when I made the pie charts I was trying to check myself for cliches. The charts represent the songwriting before the current release (when I realized I made mention of bones too often). The batch of songs before that were too frequently set on a road in America. Making pie charts has nothing to do with being good at math - I enjoy basic math from time to time, for sure, but that's it. 

My best subject in school was politics. I am endlessly fascinated with how power works, the intersection between legal and social change, theory and practice. I will never get over reading history - how human and flawed, multilayered, sordid and utterly engaging it is ; and literature is in its own category. The writers and poets I love are everything to me.  

MW : Do you have any superstitions?

BE : I try not to have, so no, not that I can think of. Knock on wood! I think I am superstitious about having superstitions. I worry that if I think that way, bad things will happen as a result. I try to operate with a balance of reason and faith. The world is scary enough without being superstitious.

MW : What’s the best slice of luck you’ve had so far?

BE: Two sons, hands down.

MW :  What’s downtown Ithaca, NY usually like in Winter?

BE : Winter lasts about six months and downtown gets deserted. There is already a foot of snow outside and it’s only mid-November, so it looks like winter came a month early this year and in my soul it has already lost its charm. 

I wrote ‘In My Room’, track #4 on the new record, looking out at my blooming crab-apple tree getting covered in a massive snowstorm in April. For six months, downtown Ithaca and its people try to make the best of it. The rest of the year we've got it made, humidity notwithstanding. 

This city rests on the land of the Cayuga, and any season reveals this land's utter beauty and majesty - glacial hills and lakes and gorges. A cold six months requires resilience and builds character, but it is often spectacularly beautiful. A story about last winter: my band played a winter residency at our favorite club downtown, Casita del Polaris, and each installment featured a calamity: my lost voice, the mayor telling everyone to stay off the roads, our bass player breaking his leg, etc. I dragged myself to each show, because we had rehearsed our faces off to learn my whole catalog - three two-hour, all original different sets of music, none of which with songs from the new record. It felt crazy to go out in the cold, and I think the shows were on Thursdays, too.

Here’s the fundamental thing I learned last year about downtown Ithaca in winter : when you show up for art, throw energy into it with abandon for no good reason other than trying to make music for the sake of the sound, people show up to bear witness. I loved that residency. 

MW : How is it for arts & culture?

BE : Ithaca has lovely, thriving, collaborative, multiple arts scenes - independent, national, underground, highbrow, it’s a good little town for being so isolated. Ithaca is a college town, so if you are willing to brave that scene you can absorb the arts and culture it brings. When I was growing up I was always up on those hills - I got to meet Vladimir Ashkenazi, and Mstislav Rostropovich - I played violin and sang in the Children's choir. 

When I moved back to town ten years ago, I was blown away by all the bands and songwriters. It's a small enough city that I now consider many of the people I admired good friends and collaborators ; and there is a whole other layer of independent, younger artists through the “Ithaca Underground” that will always be cooler than me - for that I am thankful. 

Ithaca is great in how these layers tend to cross pollinate, too. I can think of lots of examples. 

MW : What was the last book, cd, film you bought/saw?

BE : With two small kids we really don’t get out much, but the last movie I saw in the theater was ‘Black Panther’ and damn that was good. I read all the time, currently ‘Team of Rivals’ about Abraham Lincoln.

At home we are collecting records - other than supporting musician friends and collaborators, the last record I loved completely was ‘Capacity’ by Big Thief.

MW : How will you / do you (usually) celebrate Christmas?

BE : With family, as you might expect, but my favorite holidays are Thanksgiving and the Winter Solstice. I love remembering all the descant lines to all my favorite Christmas carols, so if there is an opportunity to attend a midnight mass and sing those, I do. I appreciate this time of year as alternately decadent and reflective.

MW :  Plans for 2019?

BE: Keep writing songs and other things - poems, essays, whatever. I am in a steady, long-game phase--raising small children, trying to do so with love and integrity. I keep the things that sustain me going, including creativity, but I am also going underground a bit after the release of this record. I am listening for what songs want to be written next, eager to hear them.

http://www.bronwenexter.com/

© Mark Watkins / November 2018

[sundaymomma-ing]

I do not understand. The busyness culture I mean. Why do we do it? Why do we run this race? Why have we bought the lie that more equals better? Why do we feel guilt if we aren’t doing all of the activities, all of the classes, all of the things? I’m going to take this from a slightly different vantage point; one of a stay at home mom who homeschools three of her five children.

I have long ago decided to walk a different path than most. I am not average nor do I strive to be. I am weird, I am different, I stand out a bit from the modern-American norm. It’s who I am and I am comfortable enough in my identity in Christ to trust that this is who I was designed to be. This person who I am? She sees all of these moms, frazzled and crazed, and she wonders why they do this to themselves. She thinks, these are great women, women who are brilliant, and kind, and beautiful, what are they running so hard and fast toward? It happens every year in the Autumn, my Facebook feed fills up with adorable back to school photos. Then the mommas are all writing sappy, teary-eyed posts about how they are so sad that their babies had to leave. Some moms post about how difficult it was for their kindergartner to ride the bus or be left in that big classroom. They post about their second grader’s exhaustion, falling asleep at the dinner table. They post about their middle schooler’s extra-sassy behavior as they cart her to yet another extra-curricular activity. They wonder when they’ll ever see their teen because of all the activities the child is involved in. Are these moms serious?

  Hold up, I don’t even want to talk about those moms here. I homeschool. I stay home and have no side-business that I run from home. I could never judge those moms because I am not in their shoes. No, I want to figure out why I feel all of this pressure to do more, to be more, to have more. I stay home because my husband and I agree that the best person to raise our kids is us. God entrusted these people to our care and we don’t take that responsibility lightly. I homeschool because we agree that no one knows our kids better than me, and no one could walk beside them through their educational journey like I will. We may differ in philosophy, but we agree on why we keep the little ones home.

As these little people have begun to grow, I’ve felt pressured to add activities to our days. The homeschooling community is not the weird, un-socialized cliche that it once was, I am assuming you know this. There are more activities available to my children than I could list here. Once you have found your people, there is really no end to the days you can fill, and because most children are endlessly interested in trying everything you can not rely on them to filter the best choices for themselves. As a mom I have told my daughter “no” to more extra-curriculars than I can count, and she’s only nine years old. I have seen the insanity of a packed schedule and know that it’s not where I want to live.

So here is my question as each new, good option presents itself; what value does this bring? We added ballet to our schedule this year; my child has been asking for five years for dance or gymnastics and this year we found a safe place for that to happen. When I looked to the value, I could see the discipline, the friendships, the focus, the hard work. I also only saw one hour out of my whole week, add in drive time and getting ready and I thought two hours max. This was something we could do. I didn’t factor in forty minutes of practice every day and now I am praying that the benefit will outweigh the cost in time to our family. Even with practice we aren’t running ragged though. My kids will remember all of the days we stayed home to play. The days spent reading in Dad’s chair and sitting at the kitchen table for math. I won’t wish we had more time together because I am intentional about my time with them. I refuse to give away the “little” years so that they can have all of these opportunities.

The opportunities are many and the pressure is great. If I don’t put my kid in dance and choir, scouts, sports…how will they be enriched? Where will they find themselves? How will they know where their passions lay? If I take a mostly hands-off approach, allowing my kids to simply play, will they not be just as fulfilled as their peers who are scheduled 12 hours each day? I say they will and more so! By allowing my children to “just be” they figure out who they are, what they like, how they want to be treated, what they want to fill their time with. Maybe a thing will stick with them, like dance did, continuing to be on her wish list for multiple years. By following her lead and giving her time to long for it, the class holds more value for her than any number of other opportunities casually tossed her way could have. And that’s the thing, she sees the value in it, so it isn’t a chore or a hassle or one-more-thing-to-do. I don’t use dance as a bargaining tool, but she knows how it must fit into our day and that sacrifices to play time must be made to incorporate practice and rehearsal.

Here is the flip-side, my six year-old is quiet. I don’t mean he is a quiet boy who rarely makes noise, rather he stands back, doesn’t want to be in front of a crowd. He is often afraid of activities though they are the same as they have been for many weeks. He holds back at the beginning of youth group every single Wednesday. He walks with me to co-op instead of running ahead with his sister. He refuses new choices because of a fear of the unknown. I worry over this lack of choosing too. I wanted him to try something new this year and it took weeks of talking about it and offering it to him before he actually went to the group. He needs the security of sameness to feel comfortable at a new activity or class, something that is not possible. This is part of the reason that I know teaching him at home is the best choice for him. He can rely on the stability of our home environment, trust in it’s sameness, be comforted in the relative boredom. New activities can still be a little scary, but they are small pieces of his week. He doesn’t have to live in those places every single day.

My question holds true for this child as well. What value will he get from this activity that may be perceived as scary or unwanted? Will going to soccer practice once a week make him a professional athlete someday? No, it will not. It may help him find a love of movement, comfort in the camaraderie of team mates. It may make him a teensy bit braver next time. Will my insisting on him trying the next thing help him overcome his fear of trying in the long run? I pray that it will. I don’t want the child to live fearfully, I want him to be bold in his choices and I hope that the environment we have created gives him the chance to grow into that kind of person.

As I struggle with this balance of too many versus too few activities on our calendar, I aim to meet each child in the middle. To teach them that all of these options are good, but that we can not do all of the good things. As they grow I believe this will be an important skill for them, a tool they can use to not lose their inner voice. I hope it helps them learn that no is a good answer if it is true to their heart, while still being willing to say yes even if it may be a bit scary. I also hope that by working through these choices with them now, while they are small, they will find things they are passionate about. That they will carry not just those activities with them into adulthood, but the ability to choose what is right.

As I look ahead, I don’t see the activity load lessening. I will have to work to keep the white-space on my calendar. I hope that in providing down time, offering opportunities, listening to their opinions, that they will see the value in those breaks in the schedule. That they will be thankful for time to just be. That they will learn to appreciate the quiet and the loud, the slow and the busy. Also, that they will more easily work toward that balance in their adult lives, because of these lessons. Of course, this understanding is important for them. Really though, I am so pleased to have learned these things about myself, to know what I need from the quiet hours of my days and from the busy ones as well. To trust my answers to be true to those needs, without fear of either adding too much, or letting others down because I know myself well.

  Over-Scheduled I do not understand. The busyness culture I mean. Why do we do it? Why do we run this race?

[oscarcerise-blog]

sixth form begins, etc

It's September- a time of ending bad sleep schedules, waking at a "normal" time for society and new beginnings. On the 7th, I start sixth form: a most anticipated event because of many reasons, but let me outline a few of the most key ones:

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- the lack of need for uniform

- extra hours (once I have proved myself worthy) of free studying time

- higher level of responsibility

- only doing subjects I care about 

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One scary thought, as always, is the future. I’m a person who seems to always live in the future and never go a minute of the day without thinking about some far off, distant event, like applying for university vs. an apprenticeship, or opening my a level results and finding that I have failed everything, to the utmost disappointment of my entire family, friendship group and loving boyfriend. Yes, the future is something I’m trying to retreat back from- living in the moment, whatever that Latin phrase is, is something I wish I could do. Nick, who I should name as the current lover of my life, claims to live in the moment- he seizes the day by doing nothing at all productive. He slobs around, eating terrible food which made me feel queasy and ill after a week of being around him, not planning for the future in any means except in one sense- a monetary one.

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He seems obsessed with only two things- money: how much he makes a week, a year, an hour; and me, his first boyfriend and partner in around four years. I find it wild how much he calculates to such high detail what he will earn, and cares so endlessly for my mental health, what I eat and interests, and yet also spends his days sleeping in a darkened room and playing video games on a rainbow LED fancy computer. Typical that the one I had to fall in love with was a clone of the majority of my friends- an insanely lazy nerd.

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Speaking of love, I’m not sure if I really know what it is. Despite being 16 years old, and having said it countless times to many partners, one which definitively set my mind straight as to whether or not I was gay, I haven’t the foggiest idea what it really is. I would say I love my mother, for example, for that huge burden of fondness and warmth around her existence is unlike anything else. And yet, even though the typical chant of “love you!” has rolled off my tongue during the month or so I’ve dated my current boyfriend just as much as normal, I’m not sure what I exactly mean by it.

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Nick, to this problem, said that love is putting the other person first, but is that a true definition? I think the word love is a little too broad, and that’s where English may fall down on the subject. I could say I love toast, or that I love the feeling of shaved legs on clean sheets, but I also love my mother and love Nick. I guess, in that sense, he is right- in another late night discussion during my week of slobbing around in his room, he said I didn’t know what love was. And honestly? I think he may have hit the nail on the head with that one. 

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Back onto the subject of school- I find it very easy. Never in my life have I ever not been able to do anything academically: sure, sometimes I may struggle a little to keep tons of numbers in my head for maths, whilst doing some fancy calculation, but that’s simply because my brain isn’t wired perfectly that way. I still find academia, I believe that is what it’s called, extremely simple. Ever since nursery, I have left each year thinking that I have learnt everything there was to offer, and ever since the latter part of primary school, I haven’t bothered to learn everything, or do all the work, or complete every little task. I’ve become cocky in my abilities, a trait I don’t enjoy, but find very easy to continue being as recalling information or applying knowledge is ever so easy for me.

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And so, yes. A levels should (in theory) be far harder. I should be working like a dog, whatever that phrase is supposed to mean, despite me only doing three subjects. I look forward to seeing that happen, if it turns into reality, as I doubt art, sociology and geography will be terribly draining of my mental and physical capacities. I mean- people manage to do four or five a levels, along with jobs, open university courses and recreational activities, from drug taking and partying to charity work and the Duke of Edinburgh award, so me simply doing some a levels along with at most learning to drive a car and seeing my boyfriend for the odd weekend here and there won’t be terribly difficult.

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To conclude, let me write my prediction of what school will be, or rather, sixth form will be, for the next year. A very easy ride with a slightly higher workload.

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Let it be said here, that I may be proven completely wrong and flummoxed entirely by the education system, wishing I had chosen vocational courses or something completely different, but I doubt it. If I can get As and A*s in GCSEs without revision, I imagine with a little hard work I’ll manage the same during the next two years.

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Farewell,

a confident Oscar.