#Syllabus reduce

[ma-douce-souffrance]

Externals and sem finals are scary i hate college

[rightnewshindi]

हिमाचल शिक्षा बोर्ड ने घटाया 30 फीसदी सिलेबस, जानें किस-किस विषय में हुई कटौती

हिमाचल शिक्षा बोर्ड ने घटाया 30 फीसदी सिलेबस, जानें किस-किस विषय में हुई कटौती

HPBOSE News: हिमाचल प्रदेश स्कूल शिक्षा बोर्ड ने शैक्षणिक सत्र 2024-25 के सिलेबस में 30 फीसदी कटौती की है। बोर्ड ने जारी पुरानी पुस्तकों में सिलेबस हटाने को शिक्षा बोर्ड ने अधिसूचना जारी कर दी है। इस दौरान बोर्ड ने छठी से 12वीं कक्षा तक के पाठयक्रम से जहां कई अध्यायों को पूरी तरह से काट दिया है, वहीं कई ऐसे भी अध्याय हैं, जिनमें से पृष्ठ संख्या को न पढ़ाने के निर्देश स्कूल प्रबंधकों को दिए गए…

[sunsburns]

the great gig in the sky

pairing: eric (a quiet place: day one) x reader

summary: you had come to the library with only one thing in mind; to finish your final paper for class. but then there's this cute forgein lawyer asking you for help finding a book, and you think you're hitting it off with this guy but then the next thing you know, the world is ending.

—or: the world ends when you least expect it

word count: 2.3k+

contains: fluff (at first), angst, horror implications, alien invasion, the-end-of-the-world kind of scenario, blood, graphic gore & violence, mentions of death, death, a lot of angst lol

author’s note: one thing about me is that i love a good old angsty apocalyptic fic (this is coming from my wattpad days and my stranger things fics on there). i wanted to see if i still had the hang of writing horror and i think i've still got it! just a bit out of practice i guess. but anyway, this fic is for the small quiet place fandom! i see you guys! enjoyy

DAY ONE

The library is one of the few places in New York City where you can find a semblance of peace. In a city that never slept, with its constant cacophony of sounds and vibrant atmosphere, the library offers a stark contrast. It’s a sanctuary where time seems to slow, where the world is reduced to the soft rustling of pages, the gentle thuds of footsteps on hardwood floors, and the muted whispers between friends and peers, occasionally punctuated by the sharp "shh!" from the librarian.

You lean back in your chair, your laptop open in front of you with a half-finished report on the screen. Textbooks lay scattered across the table, pages open to the sections that cover your syllabus. You remove your glasses and rub your temples, tilting your head back to gaze at the grand ceiling of the library.

The smell of aged wood and parchment fills the air, a comforting scent that evokes a sense of calm. The high ceilings elevate the space, easing the claustrophobia you often feel in your cramped dorm room or crowded cafes.

Sunlight streams through the tall, arched Victorian-style windows, casting warm, golden beams that chase away the usual aura of stress associated with studying.

After about an hour with your earphones in, a movement in your peripheral vision catches your attention. You jump slightly and glance up from your book to meet a pair of warm, brown eyes. The man standing before you looks a bit anxious, shuffling his feet nervously.

You take out an earphone and look at him questioningly, recognizing him vaguely from one of your classes.

"Hi, uh, sorry," he whispers just loud enough for you to hear, "Do you know where the Crimes and Investigations section is? I tried asking the librarian, but I think she hates me."

His accent, foreign and charming, catches your ear, and you find his awkward smile endearing. He stands in front of your wooden desk, slouching slightly to your level. Up close, you notice the faint stubble on his face and the soft, dark brown of his eyes, reminiscent of oak bark.

"Yeah, it's in the west wing, I think," you whisper back, offering a friendly smile. His curly brown hair is slightly messy, likely tousled by the wind outside.

"Uh," he hesitates, "What wing are we at exactly?"

He looks genuinely clueless and anxious, his brown suit neatly pressed, and his blue tie impeccably straight, giving him a professional yet approachable appearance.

"We're actually at the center court, but I can show you where it is if you’d like?" you offer, feeling an unexpected blush creep up your cheeks. You silently chide yourself; you really need to go out more. You wonder briefly if your friends are still planning on heading to a club this weekend.

A look of relief washes over his face, making him grin. "That'd be really great."

You shut your laptop and stand up.

"Are you okay with leaving your things?" he asks, moving around the table to stand next to you.

You snort, "Please, I doubt there are people in the library with a knack for stealing things. One thing New Yorkers won't steal are books."

"I don't know, I heard college books are getting pretty expensive these days," he says, a hint of humour in his voice that makes you smile.

"Come on, I'll show you," you say, motioning for him to follow you.

As you lead the way toward the other side of the large library, you head toward the tall bookshelves that stand like dominoes. Through the muffling of the windows, you can hear the distant wail of sirens from ambulances and fire trucks, the honking of cars—sounds of the city that usually blend into the background but seem more persistent today.

"You're a lawyer?" you ask, making conversation as you walk.

"Working on it," he replies. "I'm still attending school. I think you're in one of my psych classes, though."

You beam, realizing that was where you remember him from. "Yes, I remember now. Are you taking it as an elective or something?"

"Yeah, sure, something like that."

"And how's American going for you?"

"Not what I imagined, honestly," he admits with a pout. "Don't get me wrong, the teachers are great and all but—"

"The students suck ass, right?" you interject with a smirk. "Yeah, we're pieces of shit here in the States."

He laughs, a rich sound that makes your stomach flutter. "No, I wouldn't say that. I mean, you seem pretty nice."

You feel your face heat up at the compliment, your heart racing. You want to smack yourself with a book; all this guy did was call you nice, and here you are blushing.

You slow down as you approach the section, walking between two bookshelves. There aren't many people in this area, but the sunlight glows into the space through the massive windows, illuminating the lined books. Some are old and dust-covered, inviting you to run your fingers along their spines, the dust clearing off and leaving a grey stain on your finger.

"Anyway, you have a specific book you're looking for?" you inquire.

He opens his mouth to answer, probably something smart and a book you've never heard of before, but your saving grace is the sudden rush of footsteps. People in the library are clamouring toward the windows, the usual calm shattered by a sense of urgency.

Someone runs between the both of you, knocking against your shoulder and making you stumble. You trip over your own feet until the guy in front of you reaches out, his hands steadying you. You thank him briefly before turning to the person who ran into you, "Hey, watch it—"

"Look!"

He's pointing at the window.

You both notice the uproar of people crowding closer, drawn by an unusual sight. From the window, you see that the world outside has nearly come to a halt. Cars are pulled over haphazardly, their doors flung open, and drivers and passengers alike are standing on the sidewalks, staring upwards. Street vendors have abandoned their carts, and pedestrians are frozen mid-stride, all eyes turned to the sky.

You rush to the window and press your hands against the cool glass, gazing out in disbelief. The sky is filled with what looks like falling stars, bright and burning, hundreds of them streaking through the atmosphere with alarming speed. Their fiery trails paint the sky with a chaotic tapestry of light and smoke, plummeting fast into the islands of New York.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, the vibration startling you. The piercing sound of the emergency broadcast alert follows, echoing through the library. Your heart sinks into your stomach as you see one of the falling stars crash into a building just blocks away.

The impact sends up a plume of fire and debris, leaving a fiery trail of destruction in its wake. You watch in horror as the building crumbles, a section collapsing in on itself, and the surrounding area is engulfed in flames.

You jump back from the window, stumbling as you try to process what you’re seeing. The people outside are no longer standing still. Panic has set in. They're running, shouting, seeking shelter wherever they can find it.

As you turn, you crash into the arms of the guy from earlier. His face is ashen, all colour drained as he stares out the window in terror. His eyes are wide, reflecting the fiery spectacle outside. You can see the muscles in his jaw clench as he struggles to comprehend the magnitude of what’s happening.

You move around him, your movements hurried and unsteady. Your mind races, a single thought cutting through the fog of fear: get the hell out of here and go home.

Your breaths come in short, panicked gasps. Around you, the library descends into chaos. People scream, their voices a cacophony of terror. The building is now a hive of frantic energy as others rush inside, seeking refuge from the outside.

The ground beneath your feet trembles violently, the walls groaning under the strain. The windows shatter with explosive force, glass shards spraying like deadly confetti.

You instinctively hold your hands over your head, ducking as one of the fiery objects crashes into the building with a deafening roar. The impact throws you off your feet, the world tilting crazily. Bookshelves topple like dominoes, their heavy wooden frames crashing to the ground and sending a shower of books and debris into the air.

You're thrown to the ground, landing hard. Pain explodes through your body, sharp and unrelenting. Your vision blurs, dark spots dancing at the edges of your sight. The air is thick with dust and smoke, choking you, making each breath a struggle. You cough violently, the acrid taste of ash filling your mouth.

You try to move, but every attempt sends a new wave of pain shooting through your limbs. The world around you starts to fade, the edges of your consciousness fraying as darkness creeps in. Just before you succumb, the last thing you hear is the distant, terrifying roar of something monstrous.

When you come to, the library is unrecognizable. The once grand ceiling is partially collapsed, with jagged pieces of wood and plaster hanging precariously above. The air is heavy with the smell of burning paper and wood, a thick, suffocating haze. Your head throbs with a relentless, pounding pain, and as you push yourself up, a horrifying sight meets your eyes.

Few mangled bodies lie around you, some partially buried under rubble, others sprawled in unnatural positions. Blood soaks into ash, coating whatever it touches. Panic surges through you, a cold, paralyzing fear that grips your heart and refuses to let go. Your breaths come in short, ragged gasps, the weight of the situation pressing down on you like a physical force.

You hear someone scream, a desperate cry for a name, a beloved perhaps. The voice cuts through the smoke and chaos, filled with raw agony and fear. He's shouting, coughing through the thick, acrid air, tripping over his own feet in his frantic search. There's an open wound on his head, a deep gash that dribbles blood down his face, mingling with the dirt and sweat.

"Amy," he sobs, "Amy," he spots you sitting in the rubble and hurries towards you. "Help me—help me find—"

It comes in fast, a blur in the shadows that moves with terrifying speed. Before he can finish his sentence, it's upon him, dragging him away with a ferocity that leaves you frozen in place.

You jump, a silent scream stuck in the back of your throat as you watch the horror unfold. You're trembling, unable to see the creature clearly but acutely aware of the sounds—bones snapping, the dreadful crunching, and the sickening drip of blood hitting the ground.

Tears well up in your eyes, and a cry almost escapes your lips before a hand suddenly clamps over your mouth, stifling your instinctive scream.

It's the guy from before, his face now smeared with dirt, his eyes wide with terror. He holds his finger to his lips, a silent plea for you to stay quiet.

You can feel his hand trembling against your skin, his heavy breaths and anxious pants betraying his own fear.

When you finally calm down, you can sense his fear is even greater than your own. He slowly removes his hand, his eyes searching yours for understanding. Despite the terror, you feel a surge of determination. You nod at him, too terrified to speak.

He helps you to your feet, his grip firm but gentle, and guides you underneath a heavy, wooden table similar to the one you were sitting on earlier. The table's legs are sturdy, and it offers some measure of protection

Your eyes, blurred with tears and the strain of fear, lock with his. The dim light from a nearby, flickering emergency lantern casts deep shadows across his face, revealing the sheer magnitude of his terror. His expression reflects a fear that seems almost palpable, magnifying your own sense of dread.

Despite his visible fear, there’s an unwavering loyalty in his gaze while he presses his hands to a wound on your leg you haven't noticed until then.

You open your mouth, a silent gasp escaping as you instinctively want to speak. However, you remember the perilous situation and close it again, forcing yourself to remain silent. Your trembling hands fumble in your pockets, retrieving your phone.

The screen is cracked and spiderwebbed, but it still lights up, its soft glow a stark contrast to the oppressive darkness of the library. With a shaky breath, you type a message, each keystroke feeling like a thunderclap in the stillness.

You press the phone towards him, the words “What’s your name?” barely visible through your shaking hands.

He takes the phone from you with deliberate slowness, his movements calculated to avoid making any noise that might betray your hiding spot. Every creak of the wooden floorboards and distant, muffled noises from the library only heighten your anxiety.

The silence around you is almost tangible, filled with the collective holding of breaths from other hidden survivors. They are scattered throughout the library, huddled in various corners, doing their utmost to stay hidden and silent.

The fear of being discovered is a constant, oppressive presence, and no one knows how long they will need to remain in hiding—whether until help arrives or until they are discovered by the monsters stalking within the shadows.

He studies the screen briefly, his eyes flicking between the shattered glass and the message, before handing the phone back to you. The single word “Eric” is typed in, but the simple introduction does little to ease the tension.

The sincerity in his eyes is clear, though his own are brimming with tears that begin to trail down his cheeks silently.

You type your own name quickly and show it to him, your fingers trembling as you tap out the letters.

The strained smile he offers is far from comforting, and his tears make yours burn at your skin. The library remains eerily quiet, punctuated only by the occasional rustle of shifting survivors and the distant, ominous sounds of the monsters prowling outside.

That's when you realized, you were going to die here.

[togrowoldinv]

Oral Exam

Natasha Romanoff x Female Reader

When your academic rival gets the graduate assistant job you wanted, you’re standoffish towards each other until one party changes everything

Warnings: Smut! 18+ please! Kissing, cursing, oral (both receiving), thigh riding, thirsting for Nat

Note: I just couldn’t get college Nat out of my head again so here we are. Enjoy!

Natasha Romanoff Masterlist 1, Natasha Romanoff Masterlist 2, Main Masterlist

It’s finally summer break. Well, for exactly one week it was. You decided to stay for summer classes and try to graduate early, so you only got one week of break.

That part isn’t ideal, but some of your friends are also staying. You’re determined to make it a fun summer anyways.

As you and Wanda walk to class, you catch up on her week at home.

“How was your family?” You ask her.

“Clingy,” she says. “But really good. Pietro asked about you.” She says the last part with a grin knowing that Pietro has had a crush on you since he met you.

“Not my type,” you say, laughing as you open the door to the building.

Wanda chuckles and you follow her inside.

“Right. Your type is redhead sisters of your close friend,” she teases.

“Wands, I do not have a type and it’s certainly not Natasha!”

Wanda laughs it off and you two walk into the classroom. You sit next to her and later Kate comes in and sits on your other side.

“Who got the graduate assistant job?” Another one of your friends, Peter, asks the group.

“I don’t know. I just know it wasn’t me,” you say with a bite to your tone.

You were up for the role despite being a year away from graduation. The professor, Dr. Banner, had loved your writing this semester and he was going to make an exception for you. But at the last minute someone else applied and got the job.

You’re still teeming from the memory when none other than Natasha Romanoff walks in. Was she in this class? Surely she had taken it already.

“Hello everyone. Dr. Banner is running behind, so I’m going to be leading class today. I’m Natasha your graduate assistant,” the redhead introduces herself.

She throws a glance your way and you cross your arms over your chest. Of course she got the job. Dr. Banner practically drools over her.

Natasha starts going over the syllabus with the class and dives into the material. You don’t say a word the entire lecture. She notices.

“I will see you all tomorrow,” Natasha says. Everyone gathers their things, but you’re stopped by her voice. “Can you hang back, y/n?”

You stay put and wait for your classmates to leave. Natasha leans against the desk and looks you over. You feel warm under her gaze.

“Are you not going to participate in class?” Nat asks.

“Not when you got the job I deserved,” you say.

“Ah,” Nat revels. “I’m sorry.”

You scoff at her words. She stands up straighter. You don’t miss the way her dress hugs her hips as she does so.

“I am sorry. Even if you don’t believe me. We both applied for the job. It’s not personal,” Nat says.

“You only got the job because Banner wants to fuck you.”

“How dare you?” Nat says. She invades your space and you’re overcome by the scent of her. “Maybe Bruce wants to sleep with me, which never ever will happen. But I got this job because I’m qualified for it. I worked for it. Do not reduce me to something that man wants.”

You don’t really know how to reply. You know everything she said is true and you feel bad for even questioning her qualification.

“Are you going to say anything?” Nat asks.

“I’m sorry. I’ll participate in class tomorrow,” you say.

Natasha backs away from you and gathers her papers from the desk.

“Good. Your grade depends on it and I’d hate for a pretty girl like you to fail this class,” she says. Her tone changed and for the first time you really think you might be attracted to her.

You leave the classroom and meet up with your classmates to do your homework. The next couple of weeks go by pretty smoothly. You participate and find Natasha to be tolerable despite her position.

She wears dresses and button ups that threaten to distract you, but you keep trying to fight your attraction to her.

It’s one week before finals when you meet up with your classmates to study.

But at some point the study session turns into a drinking game.

You’re a few shots in when your friend Yelena walks in the door. She’s been home for the summer, so you haven’t seen her.

“Yelena!” You pull her into a hug and kiss her cheeks.

“Hi drunk, y/n,” she says, chuckling at your over affectionate self. “I brought Nat hope that’s cool.”

Before you can reply, Yelena is off to talk to her girlfriend. Natasha appears behind her. She’s wearing a light blue button up shirt and khakis. She is wearing what she had on in class today and she looks so good.

“This doesn’t look like studying,” Natasha says, taking in the scene. There are people everywhere drinking and chatting.

“You want a drink?” You ask her, ignoring her comment.

She nods and you grab her a beer. You get pulled away to play a game and beer pong, but after you win you try and find Nat again.

She’s outside and you bring her another drink. Nat accepts it easily, getting a little buzz of her own.

“You look good,” she tells you. It catches you off guard.

“Oh, thanks. You look good too,” you tell her. And she does. She’s undone some of her shirt buttons and her bra peaks out just a bit from her shirt.

“Thank you, y/n,” Nat says. It’s dark but you think you see her blush. It’s quiet for a moment as the two of you stand together. She breaks the silence. “I forgot you were friends with my sister.”

“Oh yeah. Yelena and I have been friends since freshman year. She’s great.”

“I’m inclined to agree. Do you think Kate is good for her?” Nat asks. It’s already the longest conversation you’ve ever had with the woman.

You nod. “They’re both really happy.”

“Good,” Nat says. “What about you? Are you seeing anyone?”

“Nope,” you say. “Although my friend’s brother is into me, so it is nice to be crushed on.”

Natasha chuckles and takes a sip of her beer. You notice the way her neck flexes as she leans it back and swallows the drink.

“You’re so beautiful,” you blurt out, feeling unfiltered from the shots you took earlier. “I mean- yeah you’re beautiful and I’m annoyed by your academic success but I also find you incredibly attractive.”

She smirks at your rambling. Natasha shifts closer to you. Her lips hover over yours.

“I also find you attractive,” Natasha says. “And I really want to kiss you right now.”

“Please.”

Natasha closes the distance and kisses you. Her empty hand comes to the back of your neck to deepen the kiss. When her tongue moves into your mouth, you feel weak in your knees.

“My bedroom is upstairs,” you tell her once you break for air.

“Let’s go,” she says.

You take her hand and pull her through the crowded rooms to your bedroom. She closes the door behind herself and kisses you again. And again and again.

“I want you,” you tell her. “I thought about this when you were up there teaching today.”

“Oh yeah?” Nat asks. She kisses your neck and bites against your skin gently.

“Mhm, I don’t remember what the lesson was about.”

Natasha smirks against your neck and slips her hand under your shirt. Her strong hand moves over your side and pushes your shirt up. She stops kissing you long enough to slip the shirt over your head.

“Fuck you’re gorgeous,” Natasha says as her eyes rake over your body.

The two of fall back into your bed. You reach for her hips to pull her closer. She straddles your hips and kisses you again. You begin to unbutton her shirt and you leave a kiss to her exposed skin with every button.

When you open the shirt completely, you waste no time unclasping the bra that had just barely been showing earlier.

“Oh Natasha,” you say before you take her nipple into your mouth. She moans at the feeling.

“I get the feeling you don’t hate me,” Natasha says as she begins unbuttoning your pants. You continue your efforts against her chest.

“Not right now I don’t,” you say. She smirks and slips a hand into your pants. You can imagine how wet you are down there.

Nat pulls her chest away from your lips and moves down the bed. She slips your pants off and takes off her own. Her red lacy panties don’t leave much to your imagination.

“Fuck me,” you mumble. She chuckles and lays on her stomach, settling between your legs. She kisses the dark spot against your underwear, teasing you with her hands on your thighs.

“You’re so wet for me, baby. God I love it,” she says. “You don’t know how many times I imagined you just like this. All spread out for me.” She drops kisses to your thighs as she slips your underwear off your legs.

“You imagined this?” You ask her.

Nat pauses and moves back up your body. She hovers over you with her arms on either side of you. Leaning down she stops just short of your lips.

“I’ve imagined this. I’ve wanted you for so long. I had to take care of myself every night after class because I couldn’t get you out of my head,” Natasha explains.

You pull her lips to yours and kiss her until you’re dizzy. She grins and moves back to her previous spot.

“Fuck Natasha,” you moan as she dives right in this time. You’re not embarrassed for how wet you are for her. It makes you feel so good how she basks in the pleasure of you.

She uses her fingers to work around the edges of your folds and her tongue licks and sucks expertly. She’s definitely done this before.

When your legs begin to shake, she knows you’re close but she doesn’t stop her ministrations. She goes faster, adding a finger to work in tandem with her tongue.

“Nat,” you whisper, pleasure keeping you from being any louder. “Please.”

“Let go, detka,” she says. Her deep voice vibrates against you and cum hard against her tongue.

Natasha keeps her lips on you until you’re pushing on her head to ask for a break. She kisses your hips, stomach, and breasts as she makes her way to your face again.

“Are you okay?” She asks. Her hand rests on your cheek, it feels so loving, so soft.

“I’m- I feel amazing,” you tell her. She smiles and brushes her thumb over your face.

You kiss her softly, but the want for her takes over quickly and you’re pulling her onto you again. You slip off her panties and can’t help the gasp that you let out. Her body is just so perfect.

She moves her hips against you and moans when your leg falls between hers. You feel her wetness against your leg.

“I’m going to ride your thigh, baby,” Natasha says. You’re not going to say no to that.

You reach for her hips and help her move against you. She’s above you, her perfect breasts moving with every thrust of her hips.

“Come for me, Natasha. Show me how you thought about me each night after class,” you say. You know the talking is working when Nat has to fight to keep her hips going. “You’re so hot right now. Being so good for me.”

“Fuck,” she mumbles.

“That’s it, sweetheart. I thought about you when I touched myself too, Nat. Keep going.”

Her movements become more erratic and she’s coming on your thigh. It’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.

Once Natasha’s recovered, she lays next to you and you reach for her hand. She grips yours back easily.

“How do you feel?” You ask her, turning your head to face her. She’s got her eyes closed, and when she opens then you’re lost in the sea of green.

“I feel like I’m dangerously close to falling in love with you,” Natasha admits.

“Is that a bad thing?” You ask.

“No,” Nat says with a smirk. “But technically I am your teacher.”

“Yeah, that’s true. Well, maybe you can give me an A on my exam then?”

Natasha laughs and leans in to kiss your forehead.

“It was worth a shot,” you joke. “Really, I like you so much.”

“I like you so much, too. The class is over in a week and then we can go out,” Nat says. “If you’d like to,” she adds shyly.

“Of course,” you say. “Would you like to stay tonight? I mean it’s already late and you live across campus and-“

“Yes,” Nat interrupts your rambling. “I think technically this would still count as the same evening so we could-“

You cut her off with a kiss. The kind that is definitely going to lead to more. When you pull away, Nat is smiling mischievously.

“Oh, you’re definitely getting an A for tonight,” Natasha says.

“I haven’t even taken the exam yet,” you climb onto her and she giggles happily. It’s the most carefree you’ve ever seen her.

You sink down onto the mattress and settle between her legs.

“I get it,” Nat says aloud. “An oral exam.”

You share a long laugh with her. Mostly because you didn’t even mean to make that reference. But when you bury your face between her legs, suddenly everything becomes clear about how you feel about her.

And you know that you want her more than anything else in the world.

[anjelicawrites]

Reader and Michael can’t come to Billy’s due to exam season and revision. However, doesn’t mean they can’t send him videos of there own personal ways to de-stress so he doesn’t feel left out. Better yet, cause readers exams are longer than Michaels, Michael is round Billy’s when she sends him her latest round. And Billy and Michael get a little too hot and bothered to not do anything about it

Warnings: kissing, scratching, biting, masturbation, anal (m receiving), handjob, spicy video making, orgasm denial and control, Michael is a bratty sub.

NSFW and 18+ only please!

You and Michael have different dates for your exams this semester; usually there's a couple of days of difference, this year, due to the sudden illness of one of your professors and none of the TAs being available, your class is forced to sit this last exam a week later than everyone else, leaving all of you with almost no days off before the start of the term.

You are frustrated and angry, the stress for the whole situation turns your horny knobs to the maximum, not having the chance to have a quickie, with either of your boyfriends, makes having to bunk down in your room and study all the worse.

And you miss them!

It's not just the sex, it's the intimacy of sharing Billy's old couch while reading and watching telly, chatting about everything and anything, hearing them bitch and moan because you're taking too long to get ready: all those little things that let you know how much they love you, and you them.

And there's the sex, of course: making Billy beg and cry, fight against Michael for dominance, feel your mind shut down with every orgasm they give you. You miss their hands on your body and falling asleep lulled by their warmth: your room feels so cold and empty that you just want to throw all the study materials on the floor and run to Billy's flat to finally have a good night's sleep.

You stand up before you do anything stupid and walk the length of your room like a caged lion: two days of this miserable life, you have to hold on for two more days.

Your phone pings with a message, a friend from your study group slowly losing his mind over the most difficult part of the exam; you send him an encouraging text, offering to do a last study of that bit of the syllabus tomorrow.

You close the chat and your eyes fall on the group chat with your boys, the last message being a photo. It's not the raciest pic you three have shared, this one is Billy laying on his tummy with a fucked out expression on his face, droplets of sweat adorning his naked back, already marked by Michael's bite marks. It turns you on immensely because you know it's a post fuck pic and that Michael has made him beg like a whore, only to fuck him like he doesn't love him, as if Billy's feeling don't matter, as if he's only a toy.

The idea makes your cunt tingle; you can still ignore your body and throw yourself into your notes, the problem is that you don't want to.

Billy stretches his back with a groan. Between the long hours at the pub, and the vigorous fucking, his body is a mess of overused muscles and carpet rashes. Michael has been ravenous from the moment he was finished with his batch of exams; it doesn't help Billy's case that he has been quite defiant in the spicy videos he's sent him during the last few weeks, egging him on, saying he wouldn't be able to fuck Billy for hours, that he'd be too tired for the task. Michael had enthusiastically showed him how wrong he was and is now eyeing him like he's dessert.

It still surprises Billy how voracious Michael is, sex wise, that the lanky nerd with a grandpa style would, and could, reduce him into a begging mess and could go at it for hours. If he didn't know you and him had been an item before he met you two, he'd chalk it up to the fresh discovery of sex and hormones, but you two were a couple for almost a year and Michael was as ravenous as he was the first time he slept with you.

The dual ding of his and Michael's phone distracts Billy from his train of thoughts: it must be you, still trapped in exam hell.

He's worried about you, as is Michael, you look tired and stretched thin, the delay in the exam adding to your usual burden of stress and the fact that you are not leaving your college premises, to maximize your dwindling energies, means that you have no way to recharge your batteries. Billy is afraid you're going to burn yourself out and Michael knows how close you're teetering to the edge, because you've been not that active in your shared chat, not even after the last photo he's sent: if not even fucked silly Billy elicits a response from you, then something is truly wrong.

Billy carefully pads to the sofa where his phone is laying, his arse sore from Michael's use and the muscles of his legs burn with each step. Michael waits until he's sat on the sofa, before opening the message.

The video starts playing immediately: you're almost naked, wearing only your black undergarments, looking ravishing, ravenous in the way you're playing with yourself, calling their names with a broken voice.

"Christ." It's the only thing Billy manages to say.

Both him and Michael can see the desperation in your eyes, it explodes in the hurried way you make yourself orgasm, only to slow down and start again.

Unconsciously Billy's hand finds home on Michael's long neck, his thumb caressing the velvety skin as his fingers grab his poorly cut hair; he hasn't even realized he's got an erection, too focused on your body and your pleasure to feel his own and desire explodes in his loins when the video stops.

Michael is in no better condition than him, his breath comes out in short pants and his hand has already sneaked under his horrendous trousers to grab the base of his erection; he moans when Billy gently curls his fingers tighter in his hair and pulls his head backwards, forcing his long neck to arch, a temptation Billy can't resist.

Billy's teeth nip Michael's exposed Adam's apple and then his lips soothe the small harm, only to repeat the slow torture on the available skin, leaving glaring proofs of his need for Michael.

"Don't" Billy whispers as his hand grabs Michael's wrist. "Not yet." "Don't tell me what to do." Michael pants back, without a bite, he's already too far gone. "Come now and you don't get to do that later." "Bastard!" Comes out whiner that Michael would like. "Payback is a bitch, innit?"

Without you functioning as a buffer, their lovemaking is always rougher, the power struggle more prominent than when you're around to keep the situation under control; but you're in your college room, neck deep in your study material, and not in Billy's living room, pressed between them on the couch, sharing kisses and small love bites.

Michael tries to gain the upper hand again, but his tongue fails to subjugate Billy's and the latter's hand right around his base strips Michael of any vestige of control: Billy is going to fuck him, raw and fast, until Michael loses any form of sanity.

Michael's body arches when Billy's hand starts jerking him fast and rough, your last video on repeat in the background because you look too fuckable.

"Asshole!"

Michael shouts when Billy releases his cock with a smirk. This pleasure in exerting control is a new rush Billy is still trying to understand, used as he was to be the more submissive one: the way his cock seems to swell when Michael stares at him with accusing eyes, full of tears and frustration, still surprises him.

"I told you, not yet." He's still not sure where this cold voice comes from, but he likes it. "On your knees, face on the sofa." "Make me".

Michael is nothing short of a pain in the side even when he wants to be taken and fucked stupid, Billy is happy to oblige with a hand in his hair to roughly push him on the worn carpet, the other busy with removing his ugly trousers. The blatant show of brute strength flies directly to Michael's cock, who almost comes untouched. The hand on his back that keeps him face first on the sofa drives him absolutely mad with the need to misbehave, just to see what Billy would do.

Billy stares at Michael's long back, the fine, almost white hairs illuminated by the dying light of the day a beautiful contrast with the marks his nails have left there. On a whim he licks a long stripe where the deepest ones lay, his lips suck on the inflamed skin until Michael moans and tries to kick back with his arse.

"Are you going to fuck me, or what?" Michael barks from under him. "For someone with his arse up in the air, you sure talk big a lot."

Billy tries to infuse his voice with control, in truth he doesn't know how long he's going to be able to not ravish Michael: the way he struggles against his hold, the shift of his muscles under his pink skin and your moans in the background are driving him absolutely mad.

Michael tries to push back again, his ridiculous lack of strength clear against Billy's, who is used to move around kegs of beer for a living. His umpteenth act of disobedience wins him a round of spanking, given with Billy's full strength, that reduces him into a puddle of pain and want.

"You done?" Billy is tethering on the edge and hopes Michael doesn't realize.

Michael doesn't respond but shoots him a dirty look.

"You're always going to be a pain, aren't you, genius boy? All that brain and still you play the brat."

Michael's erection is painful, hanging between his legs; it hurts to wait but he doesn't want to bend his stiff neck. He brushes his arse against Billy's hardness, enticing him to fuck him like he deserves; this time Billy doesn't punish him but presses his raging erection between his arse cheeks, grinding against the abused skin until Michael whines in pain.

"All that brain flies out of the window when you want some cock, innit?"

Michael moans when cold lube is poured over his hole and Billy prepares him fast and rough, forcing his hole to gape, just because he can.

Billy grabs his hips, pulling him backwards, forcing Michael to put his weight on his arms; Billy's phone is in front of his eyes, your video all Michael can see now, your pleasure makes him moan with the need to smother his face in your wet pussy until he can't breathe.

Both men groan when Billy's head breaches Michael's hole.

"Always so bloody tight." Billy spats and Michael's hole clenches reflexively.

With slow pushes and pulls, Billy sheaths himself in Michael's arse, grinding cruelly when he finally bottoms out, making Michael keen and buck under him.

"Shh, shh, be good." Billy caresses his sweaty hair. "Do you want to do something for our baby?"

Michael can't find the words to respond, he can just nod his head with an empty brain: he'll do anything for you.

Michael's phone is shown in front of his face, set on record; he can see his own expression, his slackened mouth and the spit almost falling from his lips.

"Let's put on a show, shall we?"

Michael's begging starts immediately, Billy's pushes are too hard and fast for him not to, his insides accepting the invasion without a fight, his arse clenching painfully when Billy fucks against his prostate brutally, sparks of pleasure exploding in his belly that turn into a fire when Billy grabs his shoulders and forces Michael's back against his front, sitting him on his erection and bucking under him wildly.

Michael's head lolls back, spit falling from his mouth, desperate moans and high pitched keens spilling from his lips without his control. Billy's hands keep him still, forcing him to take all he's giving, Michael's erection slaps painfully against his tummy and he feels like Billy is going to split him in a half.

"Oxford's math genius fucked like a whore. What would everyone think of you if they could see you now?" Billy pants.

The way Michael's arse curls around his erection after his words almost hurts and he has to redouble the strength of his pushes.

"Would you like that? For everyone see you like this?" "No...ah!" "Then why is your arse tightening this way?"

Michael's body arches, his hands scratch and grab all the skin he can reach as Billy grinds cruelly against his prostate.

"You're going to come now." Billy says grabbing his chin, forcing him to look at the phone. "Let our sweetheart see your face, how much you love this."

Michael's hands grab Billy's hair to try and keep himself in position, one of Billy's hands curls around his cock to jerk it fast and rough; Michael has to force himself to keep staring at the phone, showing you what you can't see now, but the pleasure is too much, his nerves scream with it, his brain complete mush and he can't scream anymore, he comes with his eyes rolling back in his head, his body a mere ragdoll for Billy to fuck.

Billy isn't too far behind, the feel of Michael's body letting go completely kicks his own orgasm and he comes with a tortured moan and slumps against Michael, the two of them falling on the sofa, breathless.

"Mmmh, don't" Michael whispers when Billy tries to pull his softened cock out. "You'll get cramps. Behave." "Or you can get hard again." He moans, trying to wiggle his arse. "He's insatiable." Billy says to you through the recording.

Michael mewls when Billy's fingers grab his hair to pull his torso up again, to show you his face, the reddened cheeks and the spit on his chin, his almost vacant eyes. He's so pretty after he's been thoroughly fucked.

"We're proud of you." Billy continues. " And we miss you."

Billy lets his cock slip out of Michael's hole and the other man slumps against him, pliant and ready to be fucked again.

"Do you have anything smart to add?" "Come soon." Michael manages to say, he's so tired, he wants to be touched and to eat your pussy so bad! "You're probably going to do that sooner." Billy answers. "Do you want to film it? Show our baby how much you need to be fucked again?" "Yeah." He keens, hiding his face against the curve of Billy's neck.

You're in for a treat when you finish your studies for the day. Billy will make sure of it.

Cringefail throuple taglist: @fan-goddess @solisarium @lexwolfhale

[selfhelpforstudents]

Acing Exams: The Ultimate Study Hacks Every Student Should Know

Girls in Finance project server // other posts

Studying for exams doesn't have to be a daunting task. Equip yourself with these proven study hacks to boost your preparation and increase your chances of acing those exams:

1. Prioritize Your Material:

Identify key concepts and focus on high-priority topics outlined in your syllabus.

Break down larger subjects into manageable sections to avoid feeling overwhelmed.

2. Create a Strategic Study Schedule:

Develop a realistic study schedule that considers your peak productivity hours.

Use techniques like the Pomodoro Technique to break study sessions into focused intervals with short breaks.

3. Active Learning Techniques:

Engage in active learning methods, such as teaching the material to someone else or creating flashcards.

Utilize mnemonic devices and acronyms to remember complex information.

4. Diversify Your Resources:

Explore various learning materials, including textbooks, online resources, videos, and supplementary materials.

Choose resources that resonate with your learning style for a more effective study experience.

5. Practice with Past Papers:

Familiarize yourself with the exam format by practicing with past papers or sample questions.

Analyze your mistakes and focus on improving in areas where you may be struggling.

6. Utilize Visualization Techniques:

Visualize complex concepts or create mind maps to establish connections between ideas.

Use color-coded diagrams and charts to enhance your understanding of relationships within the material.

7. Join Study Groups:

Collaborate with peers in study groups to gain different perspectives and share insights.

Teaching and discussing topics with others can reinforce your own understanding.

8. Healthy Lifestyle Habits:

Ensure you get adequate sleep to support memory consolidation.

Maintain a balanced diet and exercise regularly to keep your mind and body in optimal condition.

9. Mindfulness and Stress Management:

Practice mindfulness techniques, such as deep breathing or meditation, to manage stress.

Break down your study sessions into smaller, manageable tasks to reduce anxiety.

10. Reward Yourself:

Incorporate rewards into your study routine to stay motivated.

Treat yourself to breaks or small rewards after completing challenging study sessions.

Remember, everyone's study journey is unique, so feel free to tailor these study hacks to fit your personal preferences and learning style. Consistency and dedication to your study routine will play a key role in your success. Good luck!

Join our Girls in Finance project if you want to learn more about studying finance and the financial world <3

[normal-with-adhd-is-a-joke]

I've found something that works for reminding me to do tasks with ADHD.

When I get my syllabus at the beginning of the semester from each class I put on some relaxing audio (I use ASMR but music, especially instrumental, might work as well) and just put all of my assignments into my planner app. The audio helps reduce the frustration of repetitive tasks. If I get too frustrated I can take a moment to focus on the audio, calm down, and then keep going.

The planner app I use is called School Planner and the icon looks like this:

The reason I like this app in particular is because it has a feature that allows you to have an agenda on your phone's home screen.

Basically you can't look at your phone to play a game or go on Tumblr without being reminded that you have something due. I got a concussion at the beginning of last semester and wasn't well enough to get my assignments into the app. I noticed a HUGE reduction in my school performance because I forgot a ton of assignments without it.

[lizziela]

The Old Dragon's Prophecies

Aemond Targaryen x fem!OC (Arryn!OC) - Psyche and Eros AU

1748 words

Warnings:

Mentions of sacrifice, nightmares, mental health, mentions of death (small character), non-canon, english isn't my first language - And It'll be added more warnings for each chapter

Reduced to the ashes of the beast, she will be With all the World Westerosi Found in the Arryn’s, his bride will it be And in all places, for her, will it seek What if a sacrifice is made? Remain in place will it all stay

Prologue

Since she was a small child, she heard three things:

The first was how she was the blood of the dragon. Being born from a descendent straight out the House Belaerys, one of the few dragon riders descendent from Old Valyria.

The second was hearing her Septa Maeryn gossiping about her lady, Mellara’s mother, how she was a mad woman: that hallucinated and had the strangest dreams. Because to her Septa, there was no such a thing as a dragon dreamer that her lord talked so much about, trying to relieve his wife from the terrible rumours.

And the last and third thing, how she was the most beautiful out of her siblings. All 5 children of Lady Amara and Lord Arryn were handsome when young, and after years, they grew to be the most desired Lords and Maidens from the Vale. Even the youngest, Bennard, with only seven years of age, were considered to have been blessed with his mother’s beauty, just like his older siblings.

Lady Amara Arryn, borne Celtigar, was the grand child of the last woman who bore the last name Belaerys that was known in all Westeros. She didn’t get to meet her grandmother, with her having died when her own father wasn’t even close to adulthood, with his age closest to Bennard than Mellara’s.

Although, he told her tales about the fearless woman, who people gossiped, that could control and create bonds with dragons, even if they weren’t hers. Some would say that she could read the dragon’s minds, but he would always say that this part was the creativity of the people minds. Amara’s father, and grandsire, would talk every other day how she got her grandmother’s spirit and gifts, having tried to talk to a rogue dragon herself when she was younger than little Bennard during their diplomatic travel to Dragonstone one time. And they only showed up more after she got older and started realising that the dreams she had weren’t normal ones, they were dragon dreams after she predicted the almost death of her dear uncle, her father’s younger brother, during a usual hunt.

Mellara knew her mother’s dreams were enigmatic visions, she never believed the words her old Septa, who didn’t try to understand anything other than the syllabus she taught the Arryn Children. She couldn’t describe how she understands her mother’s troubled mind, she just knew.

To help with his wife’s burden, her husband would try and instruct her to write what she saw in her dreams, especially after Mellara’s birth, when the visions became more and more frequent. He would try and persuade Amara to write anything she could remember, even if most of them were extremely fogged after the terror’s they could show. After writing it down, Lord Arryn would send her journals to his most trusted maesters, trying to get them to decipher what she saw and what plagued her so badly, the things that filled his Lady with dread.

When Mellara was close to ten years of age, she heard the screams of her mother from across the private wing from the Arryn’s wing on their castle. The next morning, she heard her father comforting his wife about the most recent dragon dream, the one she could be sure were the doom of her dear family, especially her youngest and precious daughter.

At that time, Mellara was growing into a fine Maiden, being the fourth child and the youngest girl of the second Lord Arryn, the only Lord Arryn with heirs. It was strange for her to be on the receiving end of endless attention. Because of her beauty, because of her mother’s dreams, because of her uncle fruitless marriage…

She had two older sisters: Teresa, the eldest child, almost of age of marriage at the time their mother started having her terrible horrors about Mellara, with ten and eight years of age. She was 8 years Mellara’s senior. And Elyssa, who was the middle child of five, being 3 years younger than Teresa.

Whispers were heard through the Arryn castle, about how blessed she was with her mother’s beauty, the beauty the Maiden herself gave to her family, looking more like an angel than human. People would say crazy things about how if the Targaryens looked like the Gods made flesh, the small branch of Valyrian blood that run through the Arryn children made them look just as godly beautiful. But even the Arryn-Valyrian blood couldn’t be compared to Mellara, once she was the most beautiful of them. She had to have had the Maiden’s blessing before she was born.

After Mellara’s eleventh nameday, her mother told her about the secret they whispered through the halls, the terrifying dream that plagued their family, and Mellara was the protagonist of it. Amara finally told her youngest girl (now not the youngest child anymore, once Bennard had been born close to a year at the time).

What her mother told Mellara terrified her, but Amara was sincere with her child. Mellara was not to be wedded to anyone, she was told. But to not become a Septa as well. A decision that did not look good at the eyes of Westeros, especially once the girl was beautiful enough to be coveted even at the age of eleven. Though their family didn’t have much of a choice.

Her mother’s dream never changed during the years since she had it, Lady Arryn told her daughter: it always started the same, with her child now grown, and imprisoned by a Beast. She couldn’t see it, and a strange and soft voice would always affirm that the girl was protected. But the feeling she got during the dream always said otherwise. That her baby was in danger, that she wasn’t safe, that she fell into the viper’s den. And that Beast was the cruellest of them all.

But at that point, not only the soft and caring voice continued saying that Mellara was alright, now the girl talked to her mother directly in her dream, with words of safety and care.

Then the vision would change, and her fears would now be shown. The Beast, besides his creator, would light Mellara’s on flames. And now she could only feel, not hear or see, only feel her daughter’s anguish. It wasn’t from the flames pain; it was an emotional hurt, it felt like betrayal.

The dream then was narrated by the Valyrian Goddess, Meleys and Vhagar, was right beside her, saying everything she needed to know.

It terrified her mother even more, to be face to face to those deities, that her Valyrian side of the family tried hard to worship still. And it terrified even her father, the man with his faith strong to the Seven.

For that reason, Lord Arryn made his eldest son, Dorren, a young man of ten and eight at the time, swear to protect his sister from her terrible fate, from the fate of being burned alive, of suffering a huge betrayal, as his mother dreamed.

Close to eleven months after Bennard’s birth, the Lord Arryn, their father, succumbed to a winter fever after a trip close to the North, something unknown to the maesters from the Vale.  After a few months, the Lord Harrold Arryn, the Lord of the Eeyrie, her father’s elder brother, also died from an illness that plagued him most of his life. Leaving Dorren to assume the Arryn seat.

Being now the newest Lord Arryn himself, he oversaw his sisters, making him now the one responsible for their engagements and betrothals.

Close to two months after being the new Lord, he married his older sister, Teresa, to the third in line for the Royce seat, after the late Lady Rhea Royce, Ser Garin Royce. And Elyssa, three years after, was given to a second son of Redwyne, Ser Torrhen Redwyne. The two, now married women, left at the Eeyrie Castle their two brothers and younger sister, who now was close to her four and ten nameday.

The story that ran around the Vale was that how good of a match the two Arryn girls had made, with honourable men, and how it was a feat to their Lord brother and the remembrance of the promise Dorren have made to their father, to look after his girls.

Although carrying a toll of a young maiden, already ready for marriage since her 15th nameday, but who still hadn’t a wedding date in sight. The opposite, only refusals made by her brother on her behalf. That rumour made de closest houses cautious about what the family of a formerly second son of the Arryn household could be hiding, once the whispers of the dreams were prohibited to leave the Castle.

The most common assumption was about their heritage, about how there was a curse, who passed since the Belaerys to the Arryn’s by blood.

The rumours around the Vale weren’t without a fundament, and completely wrong. It wasn’t a curse inherited after the last Lady Belaerys, although the actual curse wasn’t placed yet, both Mellara and her mother were just waiting for the time to come and retrieve the younger Arryn girl from her family. From her mother, Lady Amara, who was every year more and more apprehensive about the fate of her sweetest (and unbeknownst to her other girls) and favourite daughter.

And every day, of every week, the same dreaded dream would plague her more. And time by time she felt her daughter’s emotion even more vividly as if it was her own. It was the same message from the gods, with the same feeling of terror every time she woke up in cold sweat looking for her daughter’s chambers, afraid she had been taken during the night. That they had finally taken her from her home to marry that monster.

She was always afraid during the final time of her dream. When she heard the same rhyme, like a lullaby for children that always get stuck into your brain and nothing else can make it stop.

She always heard the words while she saw her daughter lit up in flames, silently, as if she couldn’t feel anything physically.

And the words were:

Reduced to the ashes of the beast, she will be With all the World Westerosi Found in the Arryn’s, his bride will it be And in all places, for her, will it seek What if a sacrifice is made? Remain in place will it all stay

That's the prologue of a multi-chapter fic I am currently writing.

I hope you like it.

We writers love to hear about the feedback, so please say what you think about it.

Hopefully I will be able to post more frequently!

Dividers by @zaldritzosrose

[chaotic-archaeologist]

Hi Reid! I have a question about the american college/uni system that I've been wondering about for a long time and you seem knowledgeable and friendly enough to maybe help: How big/long are your courses? Like, how many do you take every term? Is every course the same size? How many subjects do you generally study at the same time?

For context, I'm from Sweden and our course sizes are based on a point system, where 30 points is supposed to represent 20 weeks (a term) of full time studying (40 hours a week). It's common to take 30 point courses (usually divided into subcourses, say 4×7,5 points, two for the first half and two for the second half of a term (or 6×5 with three at a time)), but you can also pick smaller courses (usually 7,5 or 15 points taken at 50%) until you get 30 points.

I think my real question is how this translates. If people speak about a, say, linguistics 101 course, is that a 30 point or 7,5 point course? And do all your courses stretch over an entire term? Please help, I just want to know how to interpret people talking about their courseload

Hi there, sorry it's taken me a while to get to this—I've been very busy prepping for the class I'm teaching.

Every university here is different, and credits (how many points you get per class, and how many total points you need to graduate) also vary based on whether your school does quarters, trimesters, or semesters. My only experience has been with semesters, so that's what I'll focus on here.

Here, most classes are either 3 or 4 credits. A usual 3 credit class might meet twice a week for 1:15 minutes each time. A class might be four credits if it's a higher level seminar or discussion based class with a higher number of more difficult readings.

Classes that have both a lab and lecture component can be more (around 6, I think? I never took one), and then there are less difficult classes that usually only run for half the semester that might be 2 credits. For example, I took a half-semester costume design class my freshman year. Below is the official jargon that talks about how credits are determined.

The current nationally recognized standard, the Federal Credit Hour Standard, defines a three-credit course as three fifty-minute classes per week over a fifteen-week semester (including final exam week), or the equivalent (for courses using a non-traditional format such as blended or online learning). This standard assumes that each credit hour generates two hours of assigned work for every hour of in-class contact. Thus, the guiding rule is 45 hours of work per semester for each unit of credit. For laboratory courses or their equivalent, one credit hour is assigned for three hours of laboratory, workshop, studio, fieldwork, independent study, etc.

You can also (sometimes) take a class pass/fail, although usually that reduces the number of credits it is worth. Finally, you can audit a class, which means that you get access to the syllabus, do the readings, and show up, but you don't have to do any of the assignments. Audited classes are worth no credits, but they do show up on your transcript.

Our undergraduate classes are often numbered 100-400, with 100 level classes being introductory, and 400 level classes being highly specialized with prerequisite requirements. Graduate level classes are 500 or higher.

Credits are different than the grades you get. Grades are on a 4 point scale, where 4.0 would be 100%, with 70% being a 2.0 and the lowest passing grade. I'm attaching a picture of the grade breakdown from my own syllabus to show you how my current institution assigns grades to percentage points.

Most colleges/institution require you to earn a C in order to pass a class. If you get that C, you get the full amount of credits for the course, same as anyone who got an A. However, your Grade Point Average (GPA), which is calculated by taking the average of every grade you've gotten, will be lower than someone who got all As.

At most institutions, you have to take 12 credits a semester (so 4 classes for 3 credits each) in order to qualify as a full time student, which comes with certain privileges. Usually you can take up to 18 credits, although this may cost more if the school doesn't have a flat rate tuition.

Finally, with a grading system like this one, undergraduate students are expected to earn a total of 120 credits to complete their bachelor's degree.

As for course sizes, they can range from 200+ person lectures at the really big universities, to 5-12 person seminar/discussions for the higher level classes. Lab classes or more hands on options will be in the 20-30 person range. But it highly depends.

I know that's confusing. Hopefully that helps? -Reid

[a-fox-studies]

January 20, 2024 • Saturday

• --- HARDCORE WEEK — Day 6/15 --- •

I finished up what was left of Data Structures syllabus. Now I can work on some practice questions tomorrow!

My flare has died down a little, I hope it reduces in the next few days, it's really hard to focus when your body is metaphorically on fire.

🎧 See You Later — GRAHAM

[lemonluvgirl]

Ok, so this idea just would not leave me alone. I told my husband about this idea for a three-chapter Everlark modern high school AU and he really liked it and told me I should write it. So, here is the first part.

August

Junior year

Panem HS

Another year, another seat in the back of the class next to the window. Another bland teacher introduction followed by the passing out of the class syllabus. Then come the dreaded icebreakers. 

Never mind that we live in a town of less than 3,000, or that our graduating class will have less than 200 members if every one of us manages to make it through the next two years of high school. And forget the fact that we’ve all been in the same grade together since kindergarten. Every single year our teachers insist on forcing us to ‘get to know each other’. 

If I don’t already know the favorite season and holiday of the person sitting next to me by now I probably never will. (It’s Delly Cartwright, and hers are summer and Christmas respectively) 

But everything about this class, about this day, hell, probably about this entire year will be completely predictable. The brains, like BT Latier will work their asses off to get top grades, and the sportos like Cato Anderson will try to copy their homework and cheat off them during tests. Girls like Galinda ‘Glimmer’ Franklin and Clove Moretti will ignore the no cell phones rule and regularly update their Twitter and Instagram during the lecture and will only get called out about 40% of the time. 

The rest of us will just muddle through, hopefully paying enough attention to pass the exams and avoid remedial tutoring in the library with Ms. Trinket who, contrary to first impressions, is not a vapid airhead who wears too much makeup and hairspray but in reality, is a total hard ass and does everything in her power to make sure the kids she tutors pass their classes. My life is all about reducing stress and hassle, so I’ll be avoiding her at all costs this year. Besides it’s much easier to just pass the first time around than have to deal with the fallout from failing. 

So I inwardly roll my eyes at the whole charade of introductions and do my best to try and look only mildly bored. 

When it gets to my turn I don’t bother standing up. 

“My name is Katniss Everdeen. I’m 17. I’m stubborn and good with a bow and that’s pretty much it.” I say dryly, and it gets a few chuckles. 

After that, the spotlight of my peer’s attention moves on and no one spares me a second glance. Which is exactly how I prefer it. Everyone here already knows I’m not very interesting. I hate the whole school spirit scene, and I’m not in any clubs or on any committees. The last time I was voluntarily a part of something, was five years ago. I quit track in middle school so I could spend more time hunting in the woods to supplement the money from my father’s income that we lost after his death. I’ve gotten so good at it that Mr. Abernathy, the owner of the local sporting goods store, took me on as a seasonal hire last summer. I parlayed that summer gig into a year-round job that helps keep food on my family’s table, and shoes on my little sister’s feet. 

My life is a series of responsibilities and expectations that my classmates could never relate to. And their lives are a carefree existence of parties, dances, and soap-opera drama that I have no interest in. 

They live in their little bubbles and I live in the real world and we will go on co-existing in this way until graduation breaks the cycle. 

I zone out of the rest of the class. We won’t do much work today if at all, so I allow myself the small indulgence of looking out the window and planning for this year’s hunting season which is set to open up for archery on the first of October. 

That leaves me only a few weeks to finish getting the permits and stock up on the needed supplies. 

This year will be harder than the years before since I’ll be hunting alone. My best friend and hunting partner, Gale Hawthorne, graduated and left for Maryland this past summer. He’ll be in Annapolis, training to become an officer and a marine while I’ll be up to my elbows in wild turkey and white-tail deer. 

Even though I’m happy for him, I can’t help but feel saddened by his absence. Now there will be no one to watch my back in the woods. No one to help me carry a hundred or more pound buck back if I manage to bring one down like I did two years ago. 

The only thing I can think of is maybe asking my boss, Haymitch if I can borrow his truck and if I can rig up a travois then—

The bell rings and I’m snapped out of my thoughts by the shuffle of feet and the whoops of excitement and laughter that my classmates let out at the sound of the last period ending. 

I pick up my old hunter-green JanSport, that’s due for another patch of duck tape soon, sling it over one shoulder and make my way to the door. 

My exit is delayed by the clump of jocks jostling each other playfully around the doorframe. I breathe out an annoyed huff as I wait for them to pass. 

One of them, one of the kinder ones, turns around and shoots me an apologetic look, bright, clear blue eyes shine back at me for a moment before his friends call his attention and pull him roughly behind them. A piece of folded-up paper falls out of the side pocket of his backpack in the midst of this and lands at my feet. 

I swoop down to pick it up and my mouth opens to call out his name but the words died on my lips before they can slip off my tongue. 

I catch sight of something completely unexpected when I automatically glance down at the paper in my hand. It's the letters K.E. inscribed neatly on the corner that spark my curiosity and prompt my hand to open up the folded paper to see what’s inside. 

I lose my ability to speak, to even think for a moment because it’s me. 

I’m staring down at a picture of my own face, straight dark hair pulled back into an unseen braid that hangs down my back, while a few stray pieces fall around my eyes, framing an oval-shaped face, dark brows perch surreptitiously over slanted grey eyes and a straight nose above a generous mouth that’s for once not tilted down into a frown, but is instead caught in a relaxed position, not quite smiling but something like the ghost of it, is settled on my lips. And my head is tilted to the side, curiously. 

I have no idea when he caught me making this expression. Maybe when I was looking out the window? When did he draw this? Why did he draw this? Is this some sort of practice for art class? I think he takes Ms. Portia’s intermediate art class at the same time I take shop. I’ve seen him going into that wing of the school because it’s right across from the shop building. Maybe he’s just practicing his life study skills. Maybe he’s taking turns drawing everyone in our history class. 

I move forward and stick my head out the door, calling out, “Peeta,” but the hallway is empty. 

I look back down at the drawing in my hand and fold it back up carefully, before slipping it into the most secure pocket of my backpack, thinking I’ll give it back to him tomorrow.

[transmutationisms]

(Analytic philosopher and logician voice) for that person who wanted help w the philosophy “order” actually the only thing anyone has ever needed is a grasp of symbolic logic and a good book of annotations/accompanying essays for example published by Oxford or your preferred press… no one needs an order. well unless you want to do modern philosophy. Then following the Descartes-Locke-Spinoza-Leibniz-thing chronologically makes sense but just use a college syllabus for that.

seems like you did not read my entire response explaining why i don't defer to university syllabi, and are treating philosophy as reducible to logic symbols disembodied from their social and historical context. sad!

[nehakumarr]

How to Create an Effective MCAT Study Schedule

Preparing for the MCAT exam can be a challenging task. With its challenging content and the pressure to perform well, it's crucial to have a solid study plan. An effective study schedule can help you manage your time, reduce stress, and ensure that you're fully prepared for test day. In this blog, we'll guide you through the process of creating an MCAT study schedule that works for you. Whether you're studying on your own or with the help of overseas education consultants, these tips will set you on the right path.

Step 1: Assess Your Starting Point

Before you create your study schedule, it's important to understand your current level of knowledge. Take a diagnostic MCAT exam to identify your strengths and weaknesses. This will help you determine how much time you need to spend on each section of the exam.

Tip: Be honest with yourself about your weaknesses. If you're struggling with a particular subject, allocate more time to study that area.

Step 2: Set a Realistic Timeline

Decide how much time you have before your MCAT exam and how many hours you can dedicate to studying each week. Ideally, you should start your preparation at least three to six months before the exam. This gives you enough time to cover all the material without feeling rushed.

Tip: If you're working or attending school full-time, be realistic about how many hours you can study each day. It's better to study consistently for a few hours than to cram at the last minute.

Step 3: Break Down the Content

The MCAT exam covers a wide range of subjects, including biology, chemistry, physics, psychology, and critical analysis. Break down the content into smaller, manageable sections. For example, you might focus on one subject each week or dedicate certain days to specific topics.

Tip: Use a study guide or syllabus to help you organize the material. Make sure you cover all the key concepts that will be tested on the exam.

Step 4: Create a Weekly Schedule

Once you've broken down the content, create a weekly study schedule. Allocate specific times for each subject and stick to your plan as much as possible. Include breaks and time for review to ensure that the material stays fresh in your mind.

Sample Weekly Schedule:

Monday: Biology (2 hours), Practice Questions (1 hour)

Tuesday: Chemistry (2 hours), Review Notes (1 hour)

Wednesday: Physics (2 hours), Practice Exam (1 hour)

Thursday: Psychology (2 hours), Review Mistakes (1 hour)

Friday: Critical Analysis (2 hours), Restudy Weak Areas (1 hour)

Saturday: Full-Length Practice Exam (4 hours), Review Answers (2 hours)

Sunday: Rest or light review

Tip: Adjust your schedule based on your progress. If you find that you're struggling with a particular topic, spend more time on it.

Step 5: Incorporate Practice Tests

Practice tests are an essential part of MCAT exam preparation. They help you get used to the format of the exam, improve your time management skills, and identify areas where you need further study. Schedule regular practice tests throughout your study plan and review your answers carefully.

Tip: Simulate test conditions by taking practice exams in a quiet environment and timing yourself. This will help you get comfortable with the pressure of the real exam.

Step 6: Stay Flexible and Adjust as Needed

It's important to stay flexible and adjust your study schedule as needed. If you find that you're ahead of schedule, use the extra time for more practice tests or review. If you're falling behind, consider cutting back on less important activities or seeking help from an overseas education consultant.

Tip: Don't be afraid to change your plan if something isn't working. The goal is to create a study schedule that works for you, not to stick rigidly to a plan that isn't effective.

Conclusion

Creating an effective MCAT study schedule is key to your success on the exam. By assessing your starting point, setting a realistic timeline, breaking down the content, and incorporating regular practice tests, you'll be well-prepared for test day. Whether you're studying on your own or with the help of overseas education consultants, a well-organized study plan will help you achieve your goals and perform your best on the MCAT exam.

[uhardite]

୨୧ day 28 of 70 ୨୧

health:

morning stretches

skincare before bed

sleeping on time

studies:

modern phys - 24/30 qs

probability - 8/29 qs

differential - 0/20 qs

straight lines pyq - 0/32 qs

cheatsheet - 0/1 chapters

coordination compounds - 0/10 pgs

things to look forward to tomorrow:

reading webtoons for 30 mins

💌 note: (draft from 13th dec) i was feeling super overwhelmed yesterday bc i had an undefined "huge amount" to study and not enough time for it, but i applied the 80/20 rule for the first time and it worked so well, im literally relieved and things are back in my control. i basically took 30-45 mins out of my study time to go through the syllabus and frequently asked questions and mark out the high priority topics and only solve questions from them, and that reduced the workload by a lot and made me feel way better bc i was getting anxious abt getting it done in time

[aastha91]

Study Tips

This is from someone who constantly needs to romanticize stuff in order to do them, so ya here u go~

1. Use notion - It helps a lot with organising ur school work or taking notes. Ik many of u dont take virtual notes which is quite fine but ya, it still provides a lot of help with romanticizing school (u can add ur syllabus, examination dates or school progress there)

There are many vdos on youtube which explains this better and inspos on pintetest.

2. Delete your socials - Now, I dont mean delete your ig account.. delete the app. If u want to login, use google login. It will actually help a lot with reducing screen time as we are lazy humans and Google login insta sucks.

This is most important during exam seasons.

3. Make pinterest boards (that motivate u to study)

4. Write and learn. Now I don't mean to make beautiful notes with impecable writing especially when ur exam is tmw, I mean just write (prob in a doctor hand writing). You don’t even need to be able to read it, you just need to know what u write.

Last but most important..

Do not make a tumblr post about study tips instead of studying for your Mathematics exam tmw.

Amen

[razorsadness]

Charlie Brown

When the little tree falters and droops pathetically under the weight of that innocent-looking but fatal ornament, and Charlie Brown wails I've killed it, everything I touch gets ruined, I feel for the guy: I know the sad prison his heart's doing time in. I know how it feels to be King Midas's evil twin, Destructo-Man careening through the world, smashing houses, reducing highways to rubble, leveling whole cities with my evil-eye laser beams and mega-grenades. If only I could hold a cute little bunny without crushing the breath out of it with my unrestrained strength, if only I could embrace a woman without inspiring in her the sudden desire to get a restraining order or move to Cleveland. I wish I could have a drink with Charlie Brown—he must be old enough now, he probably goes by Charles, or Chuck— and tell him it gets better, Chuck, or, really, it doesn't, but you learn to live with it, and you learn that what you destroy comes back to you, not always, but sometimes, refreshed and reassembled, almost as good as new, and sometimes—sometimes—bearing the willingness to forgive. And he'd take a long, mad gulp of his vodka gimlet, stare off into a world that only he is heartbroken and tipsy enough to see—some planar Midwestern town with repeating trees and ink-black night skies— and, forgetting that I was there, he'd shake that globe of a head and sigh and mutter You know, the truth is that Linus was right. It really wasn't such a bad little tree.

—Troy Jollimore, from Syllabus of Errors (Princeton University Press, September 2015)