#and its also not the mcat

[raskies456]

GRE today…..

[bloodbruise]

How are u?

ummm def having a bit of a crisis because i got drunk the other day and decided to apply for some masters programs for my gap year and surprisingly in the morning i still wanted to do it so now i'm trying to pull all my application materials together in a really short amount of time :') its so stressful but if i get in i would def want to do that rather than what i initially planned

[sagxshi]

i fucking hate everything about applying for mcat fee assistance this shit fucking sucks fuck the aamc

[skzsauce01]

What Was I Made For

Synopsis: College is hard, but it's even worse when you're a pre-med student and it's even, even worse when you don't want to go into medicine. Fortunately, the ghost that haunts your apartment is more kind, more annoying, and more helpful than you ever thought possible. College AU, ghost AU.

Warning: alcohol, bad parental relationship, mentions of death

Word Count: 6.2k

Pairing: f!reader x ghost!Kim Seungmin

A/N: Good luck with exams and classes!

“Honey, I’m home,” you call. The handles of the reusable grocery bag you picked up from a club booth at the beginning of the semester are already starting to fall apart, so you’re forced to flip on the light switch with your shoulder blades. You glare at Seungmin, who is lounging on the couch, staring at the ceiling. “Could you at least pretend to help?”

“What’s the point? I can’t even eat whatever you bought.”

You sigh and set down your haul onto the tiny kitchen island that doubles as a dining table. When you make a big production of taking out your groceries, Seungmin still doesn’t look up. Despite his inability to eat food, he usually shows some interest, if only to judge your snack choices.

On the counter, bananas in a plastic produce bag to prevent fruit flies, and a new roll of paper towels. On the top shelf of the fridge, a tub of Greek yogurt that Seungmin makes fun of you for liking. Assorted salad mixes in the crisper. A whole rotisserie chicken and a carton of eggs on the middle shelf. In the cabinet goes a party-sized bag of barbeque chips, a pack of chocolate chip cookies you don’t want to discuss how much you paid for, and a box of protein bars. 

You take the last item out of the bag and hide it behind your back. You hover over Seungmin. “Guess what I got?”

“A bag of potatoes that will grow spuds because you can’t finish them all.”

“That was one time! Try again.”

He guesses wrong again and again, so after the fifth attempt, you hold your prize in front of his eyes. “A better vegetable peeler, just like you told me to. Are you proud of me?”

For a moment, his sullen eyes brighten at the memory of you struggling with your old peeler. He watched with great amusement as the flimsy blade repeatedly got caught on carrot skin and you grew more infuriated with each catch. In the end, you gave up and ate the skin, fuming with each bite of your meal. Seungmin laughed so hard, you thought he would lose control of his physical form and slip through the floor. 

He sighs, all of the joy escaping through his lips. “Yeah, sure. Sorry, it’s just one of those days.”

“We all have them. Hey, why don’t we do something tonight? I’m done studying, so we can watch a movie or play Mario Kart or something.” You plaster a smile on your face. “Fun, right?”

“You’re never gonna get into med school if this is how you work.”

Despite his admonishments, he sits up and swings his legs off the couch to make room for you. He didn’t choose an activity so Mario Kart it is. You leave your peeler on the coffee table and grab your joycons. When you flop beside him, tossing the blue one in his lap, he grumbles as he’s jostled around.

“I don’t even wanna go to med school,” you remind him. He already knows since it’s all you complain about these days as the MCAT draws closer, but that’s never stopped you from repeating yourself.

“Wow, what a problem. I’d die to go to med school.” 

Without thinking, you snort. “Too late for that.”

Seungmin has been dead for nearly two years. The old apartment complex burned down in an electrical fire, and due to the housing demand in the area, the university quickly built a new one in its place. Sure, you suspected it was probably haunted, but rent was on the cheaper side, especially for a single room, so you moved in and learned about your unofficial roommate during your first night. You thought you were going to faint when you saw a stranger leaning over your stack of practice books, and you thought you were going to be killed when he simply said, “I was also pre-med.”

“Sorry,” you meekly say. Why is the Mario Kart music so cheerful? It would be worse if it was sad, but the upbeat tune just makes your mistake more poignant. “I shouldn’t have—”

“Well, you’re not wrong,” he interjects. “Doesn’t matter. You better not pick Birdo this time.”

While you normally would have fought him six ways from Sunday for Birdo, you choose Yoshi instead and pick his favorite circuit to start off the night. He makes no comment about your sudden generosity, but you both know the reason. There’s no such thing as pity in this household, but apologies are aplenty.

When you come back from your anatomy lab the following day, whatever guilt you felt is gone when Seungmin holds up your pack of cookies with a disapproving look. You must have forgotten to put it back in the cabinet before you left. Either that or Seungmin rummaged around your belongings when the roommate contract stated that he could not and would not.

“You seriously paid for these?” he says. 

“They’re good! And artisan,” you huff as you snatch the package from his hands. You hope you didn’t crush any cookies in the process. “I support small businesses.”

“They haven’t been a small business or artisan in, like, twenty years. How did the cat dissection go?” 

You reach for an overpriced cookie and snap off a piece with more force than necessary. “Fine. A little gross, but I guess I’m used to that by now. You wanna see the pictures I took?”

He tries to feign nonchalance, but his body seems more substantial, less ghost-like as you scroll through your camera roll. Even though he oohs and aahs at the most inappropriate images—you really don’t think the digestive structures of a cat deserve that much admiration—you can’t help but smile. He hasn’t looked or sounded this lively in weeks. You thought it might have been your snark rubbing off of him, but he always has a biting remark at the ready, remedied only with his good-natured demeanor. Of course, that demeanor has been slowly crumbling, so to see him be his usual self again feels good.

Satisfied, he lets you take your phone back. “Sometimes I miss lab. I hated doing the lab reports though; have fun with that.”

And just like that, your happiness goes out. “That’s tomorrow’s problem. I should study before work. You wanna help me out? I hate physics.”

Look, if your roommate were a pre-med student, had unlimited time, and no other obligations, you would force them to help you study, too. Plus, Seungmin loves MCAT practice, so it’s a win-win.

To your surprise, he doesn’t jump at the opportunity like he typically does. Under normal circumstances, he would be scouring the living room for where he last left his flashcards. Instead, he says, “Why don’t you take a break?”

“A break? You, of all people, suggest that I take a break when you were just telling me about my bad study habits? Who are you, and what have you done with Seungmin?”

He rolls his eyes. “I didn’t realize you wanted to do physics that badly.”

“I don’t. This is weird from you though.” However, after a moment of contemplation: “Whatever. Pick a show to watch. I’m gonna draw.”

He selects House because he’s still Seungmin after all. This is the show that inspired him to go into medicine, and is, as he’s mentioned many times before, “the greatest show on the planet.” It’s entertaining, you admit, and you do like seeing all of the obscure medical cases Dr. Gregory House solves, but it’s a grim reminder of your parents’ dreams for you. With the dialogue of the characters echoing in your head, you sketch a frog sitting on top of a stack of pancakes. You initially bought your tablet for note taking, but it really is much better as a tool for art. 

“It’s always animals, plants, or dessert now,” Seungmin remarks, craning his head to get a better view while you continually pull your screen away. “What happened to your big fantasy pieces?”

“Rule one: no looking until I say so. Rule two: no questions unless I say so. Remember?”

He ignores you. “You used to do a lot of those things when you first moved in. With the crazy landscapes, guys with abs in crop tops, cat-ear ladies with fancy dresses, villains who you definitely wanted to—”

“I get it!” Your face is blazing. He makes your artistic—purely artistic—interests sound so much worse than they are. “I’ve just been busy with life, so I don’t have time to work on them anymore. Anyway, animals, plants, and desserts are cute.” In a smaller voice, you add, “And they make me happy.”

Just like pictures of a flayed cat makes him happy.

He goes quiet and lets Dr. House fill the air. While he pretends to be engrossed in the show, you turn back to your sketch to fix your frog’s eyes to be less downcast. No sad frogs allowed.

You don’t remember exactly when the dread began, but you do distinctly remember glancing over the syllabus for your genetics course and wanting to collapse. Each item was manageable by itself, but the totality of the class, of your future classes, of your future hurtled at you at full force. For so long, you convinced yourself you could do it. You would complain the whole time, but at the end, you would be addressed as ‘Doctor’ and you would be happy. Your parents would be happy, so you would be happy and realize that it was all worth it.

Even if you cried every night, it would be worth it. 

You took a deep breath, looked at the list of assigned textbooks, and pulled out your credit card. You went through more dire situations than this stupid course. This would be easy enough.

Two weeks after the art fiasco, you finally test out your new vegetable peeler on potatoes. Your friend gave you five for free since she was having trouble finishing the large amount she bought. While you stand over the sink, humming a song your neighbor has been practicing for the past week, Seungmin is hunched over the coffee table, doing something secretive with flashcards. He’s been working on a new set of them since the art fiasco, which makes no sense since you have a perfect set of a thousand that you bought online. But no, he has been toiling day and night to create handmade ones. You don’t even want to know where he got the supplies.

Well, you already know where and how, but if your neighbors come knocking, you know nothing.

In fear that you’ll “ruin the surprise,” you have been forbidden from even stepping foot onto the living room carpet. Really, there’s no point because you can get a glimpse if you lean across the island. Nevertheless, you keep your eyes on the growing pile of potato skins. You have five potatoes worth of fries to make.

Ten minutes later, when you have moved onto slicing, Seungmin declares that he’s done. He places the baking sheet you left on the island onto a chair and triumphantly sets down his masterpiece.

When you pick up the topmost one, you can’t help but smile. Alongside the words “absolute threshold” is a cartoon rabbit with alert ears. Tiny music notes are dotted on the top edge of the card. 

“To make your studies less stressful,” he says. 

You don’t have the heart to tell him that you’re always some degree of stressed but nevertheless thank him. The flashcards are adorable, even if Seungmin’s drawing skills aren’t the best. “Newton’s first law” has an indistinguishable creature kicking a ball, and “law of independent assortment” features some of the strangest plants you have ever seen.

“I love them.”

“What do you think of my art skills? Better than you, right?”

You laugh and turn back to your cutting board. “You should’ve considered art school instead of med school. Professional artist Seungmin,” you muse. “I can see you in galleries and museums.”

“Don’t forget the history textbooks. Why didn’t you consider art school? You would be perfect for video games or something.”

For some time, you did consider art school. You spent the first two years of high school daydreaming about sitting behind an easel, translating a model’s likeness onto paper. Perennial paint splatters on your jeans, permanent charcoal stains on your fingers—that was the only way you wanted to study human anatomy. 

“My parents. You know how it is. Can you season the fries in the bowl?”

While Seungmin dumps copious amounts of salt, pepper, and whatever random spices he picked from the cabinet, you reflect on your teenage self. A part of you knew that drawing would only be a hobby, but another part kept hoping your parents would come around. When Hyunjin’s parents announced he was going to study chemistry, your mom wondered why he didn’t choose art when he was such a good artist. In fact, half the neighborhood, whose children went into STEM fields one way or another, were shocked he chose chemistry. Of course, if their own kids had opted for non-STEM majors, they would have been livid. Just like your parents had been.

“Did you ever think about not going into medicine?” you ask as you add more potato slices into the bowl.

He adds a swirl of oil to the mix. “No. It’s all I ever wanted to do. I volunteered at the hospital in high school, got an internship at a clinic here. I was studying for the MCAT and then…”

And then the university’s outdated housing killed him. It sounds horrific when phrased like that, but it’s more truthful than “Promising Young Pre-med Student Kim Seungmin Dead After Apartment Fire,” as the city newspaper headlined. His student ID photo smiled earnestly at readers, and a recent picture showed him posing in a lab coat.

It hits you then. Seungmin is dead. You knew this logically; you saw the articles, passed by the vigil, and signed the student letter demanding better accommodations. Then you forgot his existence until you applied to live in this building and when he appeared in your bedroom, you forgot about his death. Despite witnessing him walk through walls and tiptoeing around his deceased status, Seungmin has never really been dead to you. He’s your roommate who sleeps in the living room, your study partner who loves all things related to biology, or your friend. He’s too alive to be anything else.

“Did you preheat the oven?” he asks, breaking you out of your spiraling thoughts. Your body went on autopilot, and now the baking sheet is covered in pale potato sticks.

You glance at the dark oven and head over to do what you should’ve done twenty minutes ago. “My bad.”

“You’re the one eating these. Can you even finish all this?”

It’s far too much, but what else were you going to do with five potatoes on the verge of going bad? You suppose you could have not accepted them from your friend. “I can try?” you say, more to convince yourself than him. “I’m no coward.”

“Really? Then why do you hide when we watch horror movies?”

“That’s different. Mario Kart while we wait?”

“I call Birdo.”

Despite his declaration, you’re the one playing Birdo while he settles for Waluigi. Seungmin gloats when he hits you with a red shell, laughs when you fall off the track, and celebrates when he gets first place. He’s practically corporeal, alight with hopes and dreams you wish were your own, but he’s only the echo of the past. Meanwhile, blood flows through your veins and oxygen into your lungs, yet you’re stuck in a potential future you don’t even want.

At the end of fall, between your human biology midterm and that stupid philosophy paper, you break. It’s during one of your MCAT practice exams, so you at least can cry at your desk. You can’t even cry without guilt; your mind immediately starts trying to reread the problem you’re stuck on through your tears, as if trigonometry will solve your crisis. 

It feels like an elephant is sitting on your chest. Every time you think you’ve calmed down enough to begin again, another wave of sobs overcomes you. Just holding your pencil makes your throat tighten.

“Are you okay?” Seungmin’s voice is slightly muffled by your bedroom door, but you doubt that a thin piece of wood concealed your cries.

You choke out, “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“... No.”

You swing open your door with sardonic fanfare, spreading your arms like a ringmaster. Seungmin makes no comment about your swollen eyes or your sniffles. You almost wish he had.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” he asks. He takes a tentative step into your room, and when you nod, he lets himself fully in. It’s been several months since he’s last been inside. Unmade bed, cluttered nightstand, paper-strewn desk—nothing much has changed. He sits on your chair, resting an arm on top of the throw blanket you’ve thrown over the back.

“I don’t know what there is to talk about,” you say after a moment of silence. “I hate class, I hate work, I hate my life. A breakdown has been long overdue.”

You stare at the floor, afraid to meet his gaze now that he’s seen you like this. Ever since you discovered Seungmin, you’ve crafted the perfect blasé attitude to accommodate your new living circumstances. He leaves you alone sometimes and stays cordoned off in the shared spaces to give you privacy, but you don’t break apart in your apartment for good reason. You’re open and raw like a bloody wound. Will he want to patch you up with bandaids, or will he pick and prod?

Pick and prod, you pray. Make some flippant remark about how easy you have it, how he wishes he could be in your position instead. Because if he does, then the situation must not be that bad.

Softly, Seungmin says, “What can I do to help?”

Your heart drops to your stomach. “I don’t know… I should probably get back to studying anyway.”

“Really? Are you serious?”

“What else am I supposed to do?” you snap. Seungmin at least has the decency to look sheepish. “The MCAT’s in July, and I don’t even understand half the things I’m supposed to know. I’m barely getting C’s in philosophy and art history because of it. That’s so humiliating.”

“Have you thought about, you know, not going to med school?”

A harsh laugh rips out of your throat. “Every single day. But it’s too late. I’ve already wasted four years, so what’s another four?” That doesn’t even include residency.

“You’d hate it.”

“Story of my life.”

The room goes quiet. Maybe you were too severe with your words, but how else do you explain it? 

“What if you became a medical illustrator?” he abruptly suggests. “You’d know exactly how to draw everything. It’s perfect for you. And it’s still STEM-related.”

It doesn’t matter if it’s in STEM. Your parents laid out your options very clearly: doctor or disappointment. Some career choices were less disappointing than others, but they would still be disappointments.

“I need to study,” you say.

He stands up from your rightful seat at your desk. Softly, so very softly, he says, “I’ll let you get back to it then.”

“Thank you.”

He shuts the door behind him and leaves you with your despair. True to your word, you return to your practice exam, this time without crying. Your mouth is dry the entire session, but you don’t dare drink any water in fear that rehydration will trigger your tears. It’s stupid but keeps you holding on. 

When you check your answers and review terminology, you refer to the set of flashcards Seungmin made for you. He didn’t expect you to use them, but his drawings have helped you better memorize the definitions. You shuffle through them, occasionally trying to figure out the relationship between whatever Seungmin drew and the word written. Other times—but not enough for your liking—you know exactly what they mean.

The rabbit from “absolute threshold” stares at you with lopsided eyes, and Mendel’s warped pea plants grow beneath your fingers. The whole world blurs.

A month after move-in, after too many beers and barbeque chips, you asked Seungmin, “Why do you haunt only me? You can travel through the whole building, but you’re only ever here.”

He gestures at the room with a sweeping flourish. “This used to be my apartment. Sort of. They changed the floor plan, but this is the approximate location of where I lived, so when you moved in, it felt like fate.”

“Ah, a med school sufferer to keep you company.”

He laughs, but it sounds insincere. “How drunk are you right now?”

You glance at the row of empty cans you lined up on the counter. One, two, three, four, five. Five and a half, if you count the one in your hand. “Pretty drunk, I think.”

“So you won’t remember what I tell you, right?”

“Probably not,” you lie. “What is it?”

With a sad smile on his face, he says, “I haunt you because it’s like seeing someone live the life I could’ve had. Would’ve had.”

Your outburst doesn’t go forgotten, but you and Seungmin dance around the topic with the grace of a seasoned ballerina. You show him your grocery hauls, he scolds you for buying expensive cookies. The two of you play Overcooked instead of Mario Kart and pretend that Overcooked will strengthen your friendship instead destroy it even further. Seungmin is really bad, embarrassingly so. 

“Are you going to the party this weekend?” he asks as he drops onions all over the floor. There’s no health department in the game.

“I would ask you to be more specific,” you say, “but we both know I’m not going to any parties. Go chop the onions.”

“You need friends.”

“I have friends. Who do you think keeps us giving us potatoes?”

He scoffs. “That’s not a friend. That’s an enemy. We need more dishes.”

While you wash a stack of dirty dishes, Seungmin dashes between prepping ingredients and watching the timer on the soups. As expected, he doesn’t take the pot off the stovetop quick enough, and soon enough the whole kitchen is in flames. You scream at him to get the fire extinguisher, he wades through the sea of onions, and the level ends with a single gold star.

You set your joycon down and lean your head back. “Three stars or nothing” is your motto when playing Overcooked, but perhaps you can make an exception for Seungmin.

“Why’d you ask me about a party?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. Seems like a college student thing to ask. And a college student thing to do. Go to parties, I mean.”

“Not for us.” You stretch your arms and legs out, knocking your socked feet against the coffee table. “When have you ever seen me willingly leave the apartment?”

“Never,” he admits, “but you should enjoy your youth.”

Whatever mutual agreement you thought you and Seungmin had does not exist. You have long known that you would have to sacrifice your twenties for your future. There would be good moments among your struggles, but so many of your memories would be of test prep and studying. As your parents so eloquently put it, “You can draw after you retire.” 

“That’s funny coming from you,” you say. You wave a hand in front of his face and observe the way his eyebrows scrunch together. “Are you really Seungmin?”

“Do you know any other ghosts?”

“Do you actually regret dedicating so much time to studying?”

“No. I mean, I went out when I could, but you…” He mindlessly thumbs the buttons of the controller as he tries to find his words. “Well, maybe I do a little bit, but it was fulfilling. Or was going to be anyway. You’re miserable. I’ve never seen you without dark circles or eye bags.”

How needlessly observant of him. “Thanks. It’s the quintessential college look.”

“Take care of yourself.” He raises his joycon and nods at the TV. “Let’s go again. Three stars only.”

And just like that, you and Seungmin go back to pretending as if everything is fine, like the last few minutes were idle chatter about the weather. You yell instructions at him, and he retorts back with something snarky; all is well.

You suppose you should have realized why Seungmin asked you such out-of-character questions two weeks ago. Death anniversaries don’t typically go onto your calendar, but you could have made an exception for Seungmin. How did you forget? As you walk down the stairs, a wave of guilt washes over you.

The annual university-held vigil occurs on campus, but the apartment complex has their own small affair in the courtyard. Framed photos of the victims huddle together at the base of a half-wall. Already, there are several flowers and notes strewn about, and you add your own carnation to the pile. You have a note as well, and it burns your hand as you debate whether to leave it or not.

Twelve people died that night. “Only” twelve, as some papers reiterated. Twelve out of three hundred doesn’t seem too horrific given the state of the fire, but that’s still twelve people dead. Plenty more got injured trying to escape, and they aren’t honored at this memorial. The living don’t get commemorated—they live with the memories of the day, and that’s remembrance enough for the public.

“Hey.”

No one else is around, so you say, “Hey,” back to Seungmin. He disappeared for a few hours, and you assumed he would be gone until sunrise. In the days leading up to his death anniversary, he has grown increasingly depressed, looking vacantly out the window and mouthing words to himself. You idiotically thought he was just having one of those days.

“How are you holding up?” you ask.

“Fine, I guess. Good turn out this year,” he remarks as he kneels down to pick through the gifts. “The construction workers didn’t even show up to work because of superstition or something.”

“I’m really sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I know, it’s just…” You wave the folded notebook paper in your hand. Maybe you should’ve bought some stationery after all. “Read this later. I’ll see you whenever.”

You gently place it beside your carnation, return back to your apartment, and lock yourself inside your room. It’s too quiet, and you’re too restless. Your head tells you to do practice problems to burn off your energy, but all you’ve been doing as of late is listen to your head.

As you sketch an anatomical heart—underneath a completely necessary and painstakingly accurate rendering of a male torso—your bones say that this is right. 

To Kim Seungmin, a star that went out too soon—

You deserved so much more than this. I don’t even know what else to say because nothing feels more appropriate. 

I’m living in your old apartment—where it used to be, at least—and I can’t help but feel that I’m living the life you should have had. Sometimes I can feel your presence when I’m studying. I can hear you reciting definitions and shuffling flashcards. When I’m really losing my mind, I can see you sitting on the couch watching House episodes with me. It’s comforting and terrifying.

You already know this, but I don’t want to go to med school. I hate it and I hate being a disappointment to my parents, but I hate being a disappointment to you the most. You should be in my place, so I thought I should try and complete your dream for you at the very least. I’m already miserable, so I should make the most of it. For a while, I thought this would make you happy, but it’s been making you sad and worried recently. I thought if I could make you happy, then it would be worth it, but I’m realizing it’s not, but I’m too scared to leave this path. Sometimes I don’t know who I am without med school looming over me, and it 

I wish we would’ve met earlier. You’re an amazing person, full of light and kindness. The world is darker without you. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything that I’ve done and for everything that I didn’t do because you deserve so much better than whatever you’ve been given.

“Do you want to talk?”

Seungmin’s upside down face appears between you and the iPad you have been holding up with both arms. Philosophy review is simultaneously boring and maddening, but you have a final to be studying for. You should’ve started much earlier, but twenty-four hours of cramming has not failed you when it comes to general education elective courses yet.

“Not really,” you say as you push his face out of view. He’s corporeal at the moment, so your hand meets resistance rather than going right through. “I’m busy.”

“Did you apply for a ‘biomedical visualization’ program? That’s a medical illustrator thing, right?”

You don’t need to look at him to know he’s thrilled. Since the memorial, you began looking into medical illustrators as a backup plan. You only meant to learn about the basic requirements, but curiosity got the better of you, and you attended an online informational session. Seungmin overheard bits and pieces because of how thin the walls are, you got cagey when he asked, and he put his endless hours of free time into detective work. 

“I didn’t apply. I’m just looking around. Now go away.”

“The living room is a communal space. So you’re considering it then?”

You don’t respond and bring your iPad closer to your eyes. To read the tiny notes on the margins of your classmate’s notes, of course.

Seungmin cackles and claps his hands. “You are! This is good! Why are you so morose?”

“Because you interrupted my studying? I have less than ten hours to cover three months of content.”

“You’re deflecting. Are you worried about your parents?”

“Morose and deflecting,” you murmur. “Two gold stars for your vocabulary usage.”

“Are you?”

You shut your eyes, envisioning the stern faces of your parents when you announce over dinner your plans to spend your life not being a doctor. Their expressions morph from confusion to anger to grim when they realize how serious you are. 

Are you serious about this? You’re not even sure yourself. It feels like you’re in high school again, holding onto a shred of hope for a future you aren’t allowed to have.

“What if I lie to them?” you say. “I tell them I got into a school that’s super far away, go there, and return when I’ve firmly established myself as an illustrator or whatever I end up doing. It’ll be too late for them to do anything.”

“That’s one way to do it. But wouldn’t it be better if you were upfront?”

You groan and turn back to your classmate’s notes. What is it like, you wonder, to not be crushed by the weight of approval? What is it like to know you won’t be scorned for your choices? No matter what you do, someone—your parents or Seungmin—will be upset.

“Upset” is a very mild way to describe your parents’ reactions. After six cans of celebratory beer—you passed all of your classes this semester!—you called your parents to tell them good news. Somewhere between the silent congratulations and questions of your home arrival, you blurted out, “I think I’m gonna do biomedical visualization. Medical illustration. Art. It’s still medical-related, but not a doctor.”

And after a lengthy discussion filled with shouting, you’re not allowed to come home this year or ever again. CALL ENDED flashes on your screen, but you grip your phone so tightly you can feel your heartbeat in your fingertips. Your whole body is tense, flushed with indignation and shame. No tears come. You expected something like this but nothing to this extreme. Their words echo in your ears.

Ungrateful. Selfish. Disgrace. 

Logically, you know you’re none of those things, but you can’t help but feel they’re at least a little bit right. You sink into your desk chair and wait for the inevitable knock on your door. To step out of your own accord would be mortifying. 

“Are you okay?” asks Seungmin.

“I’ve been disowned in every way except legally,” you answer as you let him inside your room. “What do you think?”

“Sorry.”

“No, it’s…”

It’s not fine, but your mouth started saying so by default. You perch on the edge of your bed and stare at the stack of practice books that have been untouched for two days on your dresser. They would belong better under your bed where they’ll be out of sight.

Suddenly insecure, you ask, “You’re not gonna leave me, right? You’ll still help me peel potatoes and let me know when my artisan cookies are on sale?”

He chuckles. “The only way you can get away from me is by moving or by graduating. I’ll be here. Instead of nagging you to study, I’ll critique your anatomy.”

“That’s against the rules.” Nevertheless, you smile at the thought of Seungmin hyperfixed at your artistic renderings and comparing them against pictures from a textbook. “Thanks.”

Seungmin smiles back, and he radiates so much warmth that you forget it’s winter.

EPILOGUE

“Honey, I’m home,” you call. 

You nearly trip over the door sill in your heels but catch yourself in time. Wearing heels to commencement is a bad idea for more reasons than one. Clutching your friend’s graduation bouquet, you flip on the light switch with the back of your hand and glance over your apartment. Other than the dozens of boxes scattered across the living room and kitchen, nothing else belongs to you; goodbye coffee table you stubbed your toes against too many times; goodbye peeling school-issued couch. You half-expected to see Seungmin lying on it, staring at the ceiling like he used to. 

“Seungmin, where are you?” When he doesn’t answer, you try again. “Anyone home?”

You wander around the small apartment, checking behind doors and furniture like you’re playing hide-and-seek. He’s nowhere to be found, and you go through the apartment again in a frenzy. He could be in a different part of the building, but he always knows when you’re looking for him.

“Where are you? Seungmin, this isn’t funny! I know you can hear me.”

It takes twenty minutes, but you eventually realize he’s gone for good. No goodbyes, no hugs, no teasing—he just waved you off to your ceremony and shut the front door. You knew he wouldn’t be able to help you move out, but you thought he would still be here when you returned. He researched additional art classes for you, suggested works for your portfolio, and consoled you whenever you were overwhelmed. It’s a knife to your heart that he’s not here.

In between tears that you don’t allow to fall from your eyes, you carry your boxes of belongings to your car. You have a new place to call home, but two perfectly nice housemates and a dog aren’t good replacements for a ghost who annoyed you from sunrise to sundown.

I hope you find this note eventually. I know we have the rule where I’m not supposed to go through your belongings, but since we’re not going to be roommates any longer, I hope you’re not too mad. Completely unrelated but you’re really good at Mario Kart. So good. Birdo was designed specifically for you.

Congratulations on graduating. You’ve worked hard this year. Could have worked harder sometimes but you did it! Relax a bit during your gap year and enjoy your youth. Those art classes will be easy for you. Biomed visualization will be easy after pre-med studies.

Stop rolling your eyes and sighing. You know I’m right.

I’m sorry we didn’t get a chance to say goodbye. I know you wanted it, but I don’t think I could have handled it. The truth is that I was ready to go a couple months ago when you started compiling your portfolio. For two years, I didn’t know why I was still here. At first, I thought my unfinished business was about the circumstances of my death. (Stop wincing. I’m dead. It’s a fact.) Then the administration stepped up. They did the bare minimum, to be honest, but at least changes were made. When you turned up, I thought I was supposed to fulfill my dream of going to med school. Turns out, I still have no idea what exactly why I was here, but seeing you live the life you want and choose the future you want makes me feel like business is finished.

To L/N Y/N, a star that will keep shining for decades to come—

I’m so proud of you and everything you’ve done so far. There are so many opportunities waiting out there for you, so don’t be afraid to take any chances. I’ll be with you always.

[hellsite-proteins]

please do furry artist vs doctor

doing some of the more iconic tumblr posts is fun, but i also don't know how to feel about this one specifically as i am currently studying for the mcat

letter sequence in this ask matching protein-coding amino acids:

DctrayearFrryartistnPatrenayearithinkyrelwallingthefrryartamntthImsrryfrtheinaccraciesDctrYiffnmatterhwIrespndtthisIdntlkgdwellplayediwalkedrightintthatWellfrryartistsaretypicallymrecmpetentandcrtesthanyraveragedctrsIcanseethatDidystlegitimatelytellmethatapersnwhdrawswlfassismrecmpetentthanaddewhspentyearsinaniversitytgiveyyrlngtransplantdctrsarellshitandfrryartistsperfrmaninfinitelymrevalaleservicetscietycmparedtthemYwilldieindaysIttkdctrslikeyearstdiagnsewhatwaswrngwithmesmeinsistingIwasfakingfrattentinwhileafrryartistIknewstwentthatsndslikecrhnsafterhearingmecmplainnceandendedpeingrightAlsIcantgtadctrandaskthemtdrawRgetheatwiderthansheistallwithtitstmatchnwcanIYcldifywerentafckingcward

protein guy analysis:

from the cartoon representation, this doesn’t look too bad. sure, there are a lot of weird loops around the right side, but there are also several alpha helices and even a baby beta sheet. seems decent enough! unfortunately, i did also look at the surface, and so y’all have to see it too. it has all the features we would expect of a terrible protein made right here on this hellsite, with disordered loops flailing around outside the main structure of the protein and terrible bond angles. its ugly and messy and generally unhappy, and no one in their right mind should go anywhere near it.

predicted protein structure:

cartoon representation

surface representation

[vidalinav]

Stu(died) Chapter 6.5

Basically this is the beginning of chapter 7 except I change povs and so it annoyed me. So this is a short chapter.

~

Nesta has never liked the holiday season. Mostly, it's cold and there's no sweater warm enough, too few blankets to cover herself with, and her roommates don't subscribe to the idea of leaving the thermostat at a sweltering 78.

That's the advantage, Nesta thinks, of Emerie and Gwyn going home for the holidays.

Admittedly, it's also a bit sad.

78 and her heart is a solid 32 degrees Fahrenheit. The freezing point of water.

She's been holed up in this apartment, even as most students leave back to their respective families. Even Cassian leaves a week ago. Not that Nesta cares to keep track. She just knows because he keeps sending them photos of him making snow angels to their group chat.

Emerie sends photos of herself on a beach in Miami, because of course she lives somewhere warm. Gwyn, however, lives out in the boonies and barely gets cell reception on a good day. She sends a thumbs up just to tell them she's alive.

She tells them she's going home soon, but really Nesta plans on taking extra shifts if they're offered. No sense in trucking home. She missed the last bus there anyway.

So, Nesta makes do with the Christmas tree her friends put up together. Homemade ornaments and all. She makes do with Netflix and shitty rom-coms, and she ignores all semblance of Cassian who keeps calling her and texting her and sending her pictures.

As if she cares.

She won't tell anyone that she saves them in her phone. She won't tell her friends that he has a routine. Check-ins like some godforsaken good morning texts as if they're dating or something. Calls at midnight because he knows she's not sleeping. He asks what she watches since she's always watching something when he calls. Nesta's surprised she even answers.

But she does.

Every time.

She answers every text with a snark reply. Answers every photo with a wicked emoji. Her voice isn't even happy when she talks to him and yet he calls and calls and calls.

She swears there must be something wrong with this guy.

~

Or perhaps there's something wrong with her...

Nesta will blame genetics--her DNA with its single nucleotide polymorphisms. If she gets her hair from her father and her eyes from her mother, it only makes sense that her unreasonable obsession with staring at her phone comes from one of them too.

Nesta cannot stop staring at her phone.

It's been 24 hours and not one notification.

Cassian has been killed.

Or at least... he's been maimed.

Maybe shot.

Worse, he might be talking to another girl.

Nesta shakes her head at the thought. Ugh. What is she even thinking? Vomit worthy thoughts and she'll blame recessive genes and the human genome. What has become of her?

She looks at the screen again, sees nothing, and throws the phone on the bed.

She needs a hobby. One of those boring ones too. Paint by numbers or diamond dots. Something that will take her hours. A form of self-flagellation. A punishment for thinking about frat boys instead of studying for the MCAT.

Because she has to study for the MCAT. The MCAT is not going to take itself.

She contemplates this as her phone vibrates.

Nesta will not admit to anyone that she jumps at the sound and rushes to pick it up.

She groans as she sees who it is.

"What do you want Feyre?"

Her little sister huffs. "That's the Christmas spirit! Say that again but in a drearier way, I think you missed the bah humbug."

"You have five minutes," Nesta says, looking at the clock. It's only 12:15. What else is she suppose to do for 9 more hours?

"Hey! You gave me 15 minutes last time. You're shortchanging me."

"Fine. You get 15 minutes. Talk fast."

Feyre laughs and Nesta pauses at the sound, glad that her little sister sounds happy even if she only calls to ask for money.

"I'm calling to see what you're doing right now."

"Why?"

"Because... Well... I need someone to pick me up from the airport."

Her little sister uses her nice voice as she says it, too.

It’s a shame that Nesta has never been one for niceties.

~~~

Azriel says he’s been playing it too easy and that’s the only reason he’s not snapping Nesta a pic of his pie. Apple crisp with little lace edges.

His exact words were: why would she buy the cow, if she could get the milk for free?

Cassian is no cow, but he knows Nesta loves roast beef. He knows so much about her and yet she barely answers his texts.

So fine, maybe Azriel is right.

Maybe Nesta doesn’t even really like him that much.

Worse, what if she likes someone else?

Cassian shakes his head. No. Impossible. Nesta's his. He's already decided, as possessive as that may seem. How could she not be? She spent Thanksgiving with his family. They've kissed. Twice.

They've made out even.

But still she doesn't reach out to him. She responds with a thumbs up when he asks how she is. She replies with a heart to his message when he tells her he's baking her favorite dessert.

Stupidly short replies for her stupid, dumb... boyfriend? Friend with minimal benefits? Student she tutors?

Cassian shakes his head again.

He needs to get a hobby.

Except he's baking... that is his hobby. He's already cleaned his room. He's watched football with his brothers. He's taken his little sister to the science museum.

Nothing can stop him from gripping his phone and shaking it.

Why won't she call???

Nesta's face lights up his screen and Cassian presses the call button with the speed of a world record.

“Cassian,” she says in a voice so soft, he could swoon.

“I’ll be right there,” he says immediately.

~

Okay next chapter is car ride to Nesta's house with Feyre in tow. Also Nesta doesn't have a car right now. I'll explain that later.

@unhealthyfanobsession

[cupcraft]

I'm so serious never in your life look at premed or med or mdphd reddits like you'll see someone whose like my mcat is like <510 but I have like 25 first author papers and I'm involved in two clinical trials and the reddit comments will be like "should you even try this career god your mcat sucks maybe you should never pursue this ever and also die!" (Based off a recent post i saw). If you're applying to med school never in your life ask reddit if its worth applying brother

[zukkacore]

⭐️

HIIIII Thank you so much! I ran out of space again for @italicized-oh so I realized i'm gonna continue just talking about the works I like that kinda help me conceptualize what IYWD was meant to be. I'm very derivative at heart <3: PART 1 | PART 2

"The stranger seems perfectly ordinary / But at the same time, Jace can’t find anything he doesn’t like about him." ok i HAVE to talk about this b/c idk if i'm being insane here b/c "I can't find anything I don't like about you" is actually something Joel says to Clementine in Eternal sunshine. Is it completely weird for me to have Jace say it about himself??? But i also think he deserves that. There's a lot of space given to his self loathing and desire to transcend himself. There's smthng about the old jace being so mundane in his "perfection" here. There's so little here to sully him b/c the scene is so short, their relationship was so new. Both kinda perfect in his simplicity. There is really nothing bad. But also kinda ordinary. it's not like he's special. There's a bit of yearning for his old self when he says he can't find anything about him he doesnt like, while also being so alienated from that he doesn't know who it even is. But I think it's like. A very rare instance of Jace showing himself some kindness in a story w a lot of self loathing

He seems lovely. I understand why you miss him. / He was. He was perfect. / You're perfect. This is so guardians 3 Gamora n Quill "you know, I'm still not who you want me to be" "yeah, but who you are ain't so bad" except evil version fucked up mirror universe lol. Like instead of accepting who this person is is different from the person you want them to be, but also being like. You're still also a person worthy of admiration and love but on your terms. Not with the expectations i place on you to be them, be something you're not. I think while sweet in its own way, Porter is just going from romanticizing one version of jace in the past to idealizing this version of jace in the present. And like. Is it really his fault. This version of Jace loved him to the point of invention. But still. I think there's a reading that this is like. Him saying both past and present are worthy of love as they are but how can he say that? PORTER is the one who did this. Infuriating. But very paladin devotion coded. Could be read as a synthesis of his feelings but also. Deeply simplistic and reductive.

"Porter can’t decide what he wants more. To make him see the way the world could be, or to lock him in a cage and keep him this way forever." I mean. Obviously Hadestown. Especially that first part. "Make him see how the world could be" (Evil version). Vs "Someone who appreciates the comforts of a gilded cage / who doesn't try to fly away the moment mother nature calls". It's like. Him caught between two impulses of. Him trying to actualize jace, fix him in his flaws, make him more of a reflection of what a follower of a god of war n rage should even be (and this ties into gorgug mcat thesis, porter's perceived flaws of Gorgug are jace's actual flaws and Porter thought gorgug needed tough love to actualize). Or this need to like. Grasp onto the past, clamp down on control, to preserve him in this precious state. And I think there is something in both impulses that are not. The worst thing ever. Wanting someone to be the best version of themself b/c you see so much in them vs. wanting them to stay precious and imperfect and human even in their flaws. BECAUSE of their flaws. But also obviously the more sinister and obvious reading is like. I mean, they're both extensions of control but like. To fix him or to own him. In a way, Porter tried to do both and lost what he thought even was precious about Jace in the first place.

A Message to Porter, You’re early - I mean. This throughline of "you're early" is obviously hadestown. Hades keeps coming up for Persephone earlier and earlier. Orpheus turned around too soon. It's that doublespeak of like. It's not just that Porter left class early to get him which is definitely weirdo behavior but that Jace didn't expect him to try to win him back THAT SOON after one of their splits. Every time Porter mentions in his internal monologue that he misses jace, that's all Hades. And "We're doing this again?" is obviously "And what about you and I? are we gonna try again" coded.

"I’m tired, Porter.” - again, kinda a weird pull. Whenever I think about Jace and exhaustion i think about Eurydice in Hey Little Songbird from Hadestown. Something about death also being refered to as rest or a final rest. I've always viewed sorcery as kinda grueling b/c its so internal and all about self control and self regulation and you have to do everything yourself. It's all you. There is no higher power to give you answers. Like. To me Jace is very chronic fatigue / choice fatigue coded. So There is this whole idea of Jace's resentment of like. When Porter killed him, damned him, brought him back wrong, he was denied any kind of meaningful life but he was also denied rest when as a sorcerer, that's secretly been the only other thing he's ever wanted. He and Eurydice are: "I want a nice soft place to land. I wanna lie down forever"

"I can wait. You know I can wait" n also "Guess I'm staying, then?" "Guess so" - Obviously the Thing with hadestown n the concept of waiting w/ "Wait for me" "I will". I also think there's something so Wait for Me (Reprise) about it in which it's like. "Think they'll make it?" "I don't know." "You let them go." "I let them try." "And what about you and I?" "are we gonna try again" "it's time for spring." "wait for me" I will" in which they're literally watching younger versions of themselves go through something they're experiencing.

^^^ But also Eternal Sunshine... I think he says "I want you to wait for just a while" & you can see in her face she's kinda moved by that even tho she knows they're doomed to get sick of each other. and its at the VERY end and they know if they were to get back together they would literally just go through the same journey they went through last time. But also that it's worth it. There's something so fatalistic seeing Porter say he's going to stay. Like. We know that's not going to happen. But we're happy he says it to Jace in the moment. It's what he wants to hear. It's what he's been wanting to hear the whole time. But when it was happening, it was so trivial.

Porter stops his mouth with a kiss. The line "Peace. I will stop your mouth" I think is such an a funny n interesting way to talk about kissing and its from Much Ado, benedick says to Beatrice. I don't have a lot of thoughts about it. I just think it's interesting. And makes a lot of sense obviously bc the whole POINT is the charged banter. Something about a character who rambles, lives in their own head n its like kinda a chirp but also kinda earnest to just be like Peace. I will stop your mouth.

"Ill take it— / I'll take it all" is also kinda a double thing. First off It's an evil Tom Succession moment. God should i even admit this. This part is unserious. I just think there's something so harrowing when he's telling shiv abt when they first started dating and he says "and i kept asking. Do you like this. Do you like this. And you said eventually. I like it all"

Also Fleabag. this has a darker undercurrent than in fleabag but i love the scene abt her mom w/ Boo when she says "I don't know where to put it. The love that i have for her." "I'll take it. Seriously it sounds lovely". And like. In the moment it's so innocuous. But Jace gets to HEAR himself say what he wishes to say to Porter. He will take whatever Porter has to give him. Whatever form of love. Even if it's not really FOR him. He's desperate for it. He was built to for it. It's the only thing he's ever wanted. If you're willing to give it

[okthatsgreat]

episode 3 and we've ALREADY GOT A BINGO LMFAOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SPOILERS BELOWWWWW

THIS EPISODE

everybody say THANK YOU to adaine abernant for that mumple mention :) again getting used as an example of the school you DO NOT want to end up at LMFAOO

PORTER IS SOMEWHAT INVOLVED! decided to fill in this square after a beat of consideration because i reckon disapproving gorgug's multiclassing is definitely more than enough to consider him "involved" in the plot... very very excited to see where gorgug's story arc is going to take him because ooooo. that examination of his rage could be something sooo so good.

BAD KIDS HAVE TO PASS A STANDARDIZED TEST! THE MCAT!!!!! I AM CONSIDERING THIS A WIN FOR BINGO!!!!!!!!!!

and of COURSE. THE SQUARE THAT MADE ME FLY OUT OF MY SEAT. we see kristen's family again GODDDDDDDDDDDD GODOUGUHGUGHG GODDDDDD. throws my hands up to the fucking sky BUCKYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

OTHERS

i was eyeing up kipperlilly copperkettle for that new high school npc that is a twist antagonist spot but as of right now she isnt being made out as the TWIST antagonist. yknow? the bad kids are ALREADY antagonising her LMFAOOOOO. and honestly theyre also sort of doing this with grix already too so we'll see. if somebody like masey (mazey?? maisy??? i forgot sorry girl....) ends up being evil then this square will definitely get filled in

im like almost positive antiopes mom was mentioned (mrs. jones) and so far that is the closest reference to the seven besides zelda that we've got lmfaoooo! (EDIT: THIS IS ANTIOPES SISTER!!! thank you guys for correcting me, its been a bit since i watched the seven LMAO)

balzathar had a memorial service or something but I AM NOT PUTTING NPC DEATH DOWN!! I HAVE NO IDEA IF HE IS TRULY REALLY CONSIDERED DEAD!!!!

[cinnamoncianna]

queen why would you share the existence of an mcat reddit dont you know us neurotic pre meds are programmed to find each other its not enough that i already stalk the medschool entrace exam reddit of my country now i gotta add the mcat one to my daily roster cause i cant be normal 😔 im not even close to being american 😔 (also if youre wondering if the evilness of academic reddits is universal yes it is people literally act like you should kill yourself if you dont score perfectly on every subject Whoo cares as long as you get in)

MED SCHOOL ENTRANCE EXAM SUBREDDIT IS CRAZY 😭😭 now im gonna hunt for a US equivalent of that thank u for ur service

[j2zara]

🍄🧭🖍️❤️ (second kudos for… aw man I was gonna say Loversverse but then I thought about Gorgug MCAT thesis so ALL OF THEM!!!! I adore them all so much!!!!)

🍄Decriscribe your wip/one of your wips in the format of “___ + ___ =___”

Hm….. I’m cheating b/c i haven’t started it yet but i genuinely plan to at some point but

Eternal Sunshine + The Scottish Play = LJ3 LSOP murdercouple duo scheme to steal Porter’s godhood and ascend Ellie

🧭An alternative title to your/ one of your WIP(s)?

I won’t say what WIPs bc some of these are Alts for things i’ve already published but i might go back and use them for upcoming stuff but i also feel like they’re alts for reason, none of them feel quite right:

I despise my rotten mind (and how much it worships you)

Don’t think we can be friends (‘cause you’re too pretty)

something about him (is made for somebody like me)

and think of me fondly (when your hands are on her)

Something in your touch (felt shockingly familiar)

Don’t forget to kiss me (or else you’ll have to miss me)

🖍Post Any sentence from your wip

Yippeee take something from LJ3Porter!

J4 moans, tucking her face into Porter's shoulder. “I ruin everything.” “If it makes you feel any better,” says J3, and there’s the reassuring brush of his hand against her leg—“I think always ruining everything is part of your charm.”

I... i did change a pronoun to a name in this version just to clarify something lol.

❤️ aka second kudos

Thank you so much!!!! You're so sweet tbh it still does mean a lot to hear that, like for real. I am cringefail bc the loversverse is close to my heart, this is what i get for being so invested in starbreaker and its derivatives, so when anyone says anything at all its like :')

and its always like. So funny yet nice to hear someone liked Tell Me How aka gorgug mcat thesis, and it is funny that me calling it Gorgug MCAT Thesis b/c that's what it is in my brain to me is like. Not just what it is to only me anymore. Anyway. I do think it's decent! it's just not like—a thing i agonized over to get Perfect well. "perfect" like so many other wips nor is it ship ship content so like its surprising and yet like flattering to get that like. Oh this was impactful for someone etc etc.

[dokiyeom]

— PILOT OF A SHOOTING STAR ☆彡 profiles 2

— SUNGHOON: accounting major @ decelis university because he claims he wants to be rich enough to be one of those people that plays golf every weekend even though he barely knows how to golf. actually wants to be a barista and make silly latte art all day long. best friends with jay and jake since high school!

— JAKE: applied physics major @ decelis university and is currently dying because of that choice but also not really. thinks of himself as somewhat adjacent to troy bolton because of his constant internal dilemma because he’’s both a physics nerd and on the rugby team. his most listened to songs during his freshman year of university were getcha head in the game, break the status quo, and breaking free from the hsm soundtrack.

— JAY: business major @ decelis university but wants to transfer to a different major because he feels like soul being sucked away in every business related course he takes because the people are unbearable. has a constant culinary school application tab open on his computer but never goes through with it. also has been warned to not help yn and joshua with their uranuspaste business because its supposedly a pyramid scheme, but they don’t seem like the type, so what’s the harm?

— HEESEUNG: women’s studies major @ decelis university and is very proud of it! he loves women, so why wouldn’t he study and get a degree in them? met jake in general physics class and nearly sobbed when jake offered to help him make sense of the lectures. often disappears from the group to hang out with some tall kid named riki from the dance team

— JUNGWON: biochemistry major @ decelis university with a premed course. is constantly questioning whether or not the money is worth the pain (it is he’s just dramatic) also has frequent nightmares about the mcat even though he still has a few years until he needs to take the exam. is sunghoon’s roommate and is still in shock that sunghoon is an accounting major because in jungwon’s eyes, stem and sunghoon don’t match.

previous | masterlist | next !!

[reanimated-owl]

What are you salty about?

x

((under a readmore bc i ended up rambling, sorry))

((idk;; i guess i'm mostly pissed about taxes rn. i just filed my returns and i owed the state like $159, which ended up being $162-ish because there was a bullshit $4 service fee...

also salty at the barometric pressure. its been swinging like crazy (as is expected for spring in my area) so I've been getting migraines basically every single day for the past week-ish. super fun when my MCAT is in like 2 weeks and I'm still trying to finish reviewing... the bonus? i do have meds to take for them. unfortunately rebound headaches (medication overuse headaches) exist. to minimize the chance of those, I can only take the meds 2-3 times per week. so i've been having to go without a lot of the time so that if I get one at work i can take something. super miserable :(

on that note, fuck the AAMC and fuck how vague the application cycles are. i thought i would be applying NEXT year bc i want (ideally) to start med school next fall. turns out, i need to apply THIS year. so i had to spend like an hour frantically sending emails to professors to hopefully get LORs from them (they agreed when i asked them before while i was still in college but i also havent seen them since i graduated which was. a year ago. so i'm trying to make sure they're still okay with it), plus double-checking my personal statement (idk if im still happy with it but its. Okay. i guess.) and praying I get a good score and don't have to retake... applications "open" in May but you can't submit until june... this shit's so hard to navigate esp bc i don't have doctors in my family who've gone through this and can help me, i've largely had to figure it out on my own and it SUCKS

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Stanley Goldfarb

Published: May 2, 2023

For better or worse, I have had a front-row seat to the meltdown of twenty-first-century medicine. Many colleagues and I are alarmed at how the DEI agenda—which promotes people and policies based on race, ethnicity, gender, religion, and sexual orientation rather than merit—is undermining healthcare for all patients regardless of their status.

Five years ago I was associate dean of curriculum at the University of Pennsylvania’s Perelman School of Medicine, and prior to that, codirector of its highly regarded kidney division. Around that time, Penn’s vice dean for education started to advocate that we train medical students to be activists for “social justice.” The university also implemented a new “pipeline program,” allowing ten students a year from HBCUs (historically black colleges or universities) to attend its med school after maintaining a 3.6 GPA but no other academic requirement, including not taking the MCAT (Medical College Admission Test). And the university has also created a project called Penn Medicine and the Afterlives of Slavery Project (PMAS) in order to “reshape medical education. . . by creating social justice-informed medical curricula that use race critically and in an evidence-based way to train the next generation of race-conscious physicians.” Finally, twenty clinical departments at the medical school now have vice chairs for diversity and inclusion. 

Although some discussion of social ills does belong in the medical curriculum, I’ve always understood the physician’s main role to be a healer of the individual patient. When I said as much in a Wall Street Journal op-ed in 2019, “Take Two Aspirin and Call Me by My Pronouns,” a Twitter mob—composed largely of fellow physicians—denounced my arguments as racist. Over 150 Penn med school alumni signed an open letter condemning me. Meanwhile, my name has since been scrubbed from the university’s website and I’ve been excised from a short history of the kidney division. 

Similar outrage greeted the outgoing president of the Society of Thoracic Surgeons, John Calhoon, when, in a speech to members in January, he encouraged them always to “search for the best candidate” and noted “affirmative action is not equal opportunity.” Within 24 hours, the society denounced Calhoon’s speech for being “inconsistent with STS’s core values of diversity, equity, and inclusion,” and its incoming president announced, “We are going to do what we can to re-earn the trust of our members who have been hurt.” Apparently no one thought to ask the 170,000 Americans who annually undergo a coronary bypass—the most common form of thoracic surgery—if they, too, might prefer to be operated on by “the best candidate.” 

After my drubbing by the Penn med school alumni, I didn’t stay quiet. At the onset of the Covid-19 pandemic, I noticed that trainees were unprepared to care for critically ill patients. It was becoming clear to me that discriminatory practices—such as reserving monoclonal antibodies against Covid-19 for minority patients, and preferential hospital admission protocols based on race—were infiltrating medicine as a whole. I responded with another Wall Street Journal op-ed, “Med School Needs an Overhaul: Doctors should learn to fight pandemics, not injustice.”

I retired as I’d planned in July 2021, my honorific status as professor emeritus intact, though I haven’t been asked to teach. In March 2022, I published a book, Take Two Aspirin and Call Me By My Pronouns, and started a nonprofit called Do No Harm with some acquaintances to combat discriminatory practices in medicine. We began a program to inform the public and fight illegal discrimination. We demand that any proposed changes in medical school admissions or testing standards require legislative approval and a public hearing—and we are getting results.

Our argument is that medical schools are engaging in racial discrimination in service to diversity, equity, and inclusion. We have filed more than seventy complaints with the U.S. Department of Education’s Office for Civil Rights (OCR), which exists in large part to investigate schools that discriminate based on race, color, ethnicity, sex, age, and disability. Surely the radical activists never expected anyone to turn the administrative state against them, but that’s what we did. And it worked—even under the Biden administration. Do No Harm has filed complaints through OCR over scholarships, fellowships, and programs with eligibility criteria that discriminate based on race/ethnicity (Title VI of the Civil Rights Act of 1964) and/or sex/gender identity (Title IX of the Education Amendments of 1972). Many of these are described as programs for students who are “underrepresented in medicine” (UIM). 

For example, we brought the OCR’s attention to a Diversity in Medicine Visiting Elective Scholars Program (archived page) at the University of Texas at San Antonio’s Long School of Medicine, which excluded white and Asian students. This is illegal under Title VI of the Civil Rights Act, which made all racial discrimination associated with government programs illegal. As a result of our action, the OCR opened an investigation. However, Long School of Medicine took down the program page and scrubbed all evidence of it from its website, prompting OCR to close the investigation as “corrected.” While the original scholarship was meant for individuals from disadvantaged backgrounds, that worthy goal can and should be met without racial discrimination.

Or consider the University of Florida College of Medicine, which offered a scholarship solely to those who were “African Americans and/or Black, American Indian, Alaska Native, Native Hawaiian, Hispanic/Latinx, and Pacific Islander.” We asked the OCR to investigate, and the university eliminated the race requirement. Likewise, we filed a complaint against the Medical University of South Carolina over eight scholarships excluding applicants who did not qualify as “underrepresented in medicine.” The OCR opened an investigation, after which the school dropped the exclusionary policy. 

* * *

Racially discriminatory scholarships are not the only sign of the decline of American medical schools. A colleague at Do No Harm and I examined the trend of resegregating medicine, including the idea that black physicians provide better healthcare to black patients than physicians of other races. There is no question disparities exist in health outcomes for minority communities. But no valid studies support the rationale of creating a corps of minority physicians, and last month Do No Harm filed a complaint with the OCR against Duke University’s School of Medicine’s Black Men in Medicine program for race- and sex-based discrimination. 

Even the highly touted New England Journal of Medicine is pushing for race-based segregation in medical schools. Last month, the journal published an article by several doctors and academics at the University of California–San Francisco and UC–Berkeley, calling for the expansion of “racial affinity group caucuses,” or RAGCs, for medical students. “In a space without White people,” the authors write, “BIPOC participants can bring their whole selves, heal from racial trauma together, and identify strategies for addressing structural racism.” The RAGCs include a caucus for white-only medical trainees, as if this would lessen objections to an agenda that has nothing to do with healing and everything to do with identity politics.

Do No Harm is also pushing back against the tide of race-based programs in the corporate world. In February, in the wake of a lawsuit we filed against Pfizer last September claiming a violation of Title VI of the Civil Rights Act, the pharmaceutical company ended a requirement that college junior applicants to its Breakthrough Fellowship program—which offers guaranteed employment—be black, Hispanic, or Native American. 

At Do No Harm we have publicly and repeatedly pointed out that the likeliest basis for healthcare disparities is not racism, but patients presenting late in the course of their illness, too late to achieve best outcomes. Therefore, we push for better access for minority patients and encourage healthcare institutions to improve outreach to minority communities. We believe that focusing on racial identity will harm healthcare, divide us even more, and reduce trust between patients and physicians, all of which will lead to even worse outcomes.

We have heard from dozens of physicians, nurses, and medical students who feel prevented from speaking out. My advice to my colleagues, young and old, is this: fight back using every tool at your disposal. Highlight the damage that follows the lowering of standards. Call out discrimination done in the name of “equity” and “anti-racism.” Recognize that the majority of your peers may share your views, even if they stay quiet. 

[beesnutz]

6 and 12. for martha and rose also. #women. Also 23 cause i KNOW you got those behind the scenes pictures

6. What's something you have in common with this character?

both me and rose are in our teenager with no prospects era. and in our flared jeans era.. isn't it so beautiful?

to be honest martha is way more successful and cool than me. the best we have in terms of relatability is that we like to take walks. hers are just a bit more far out there one might say

12. What's a headcanon you have for this character?

for martha i always like to imagine that despite how well her season wrapped up that after she stepped out of the TARDIS she got a calendar notification on her phone for the MCAT thats scheduled in 4 days and felt immediate dread and agony

for rose i like to think she did a lot of volunteer work before her job + doctor shenanigans. she seems the type that would go do things either to figure out what she likes to do or even "volunteer" for a friend of a friends who needs someone to move a couch out of an apartment.. this and her mom are 2 things that have made her sociable and friendly to strangers

23. Favorite picture of this character?

you know me so well. its actually devastating how little BTS pictures there are of martha but maybe i have to dig more...

[weve-en-moa]

Fallen | 5. The Proposal

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2,269

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Your final year of University wasn’t without its challenges. And as you had predicted, it did take you longer to finish, though only by an extra semester rather than a full year.

Jake, unsurprisingly, finished with distinction, received high scores on his MCAT, and was accepted into veterinary medicine almost immediately after applying. Heeseung moved away after graduating, becoming the music director at the radio station he interned for in his final year.

On the first day of your final semester, you slept through your alarm, missing your first class. And as it was your luck, it was a small group seminar, where attendance and participation was mandatory, with two absences resulting in an F for the entire course.

On the day of one of your midterms, you couldn’t find the room where the examination was taking place, narrowly making it into the room before students were prohibited from entering, and barely having enough time to write the full exam.

For your final essay, you didn’t realize that your laptop was running out of battery, the screen turning black in front of your very eyes right before you were about to hit save. Auto-save had also failed, resulting in an overnighter to finish the last two pages, again, as you hurried to finalize before needing to submit it the next day.

To top it all off, the dental office that you had been working for throughout university received notice that their lease was up, and the university would not be renewing, leaving you in a struggle to find a new job.

You thought things would be smoother once you graduated, but your situation seemed to only get worse. You couldn’t find a full time job, much less one in your field of studies, and were juggling several part-time, minimum wage positions to make your earnings.

It was May when you finally received an interview at a broadcasting studio that you freelanced for during your final semester. They were impressed by the reference given by the newspaper you interned for the previous summer, and wanted the voice you created for the school magazine. Though it was only an internship (that later turned into a job), you were working full-time by the end of the month.

For someone who was terribly uncoordinated and was questionable how they passed gym in school, you genuinely enjoyed being a sports journalist, and finally understood the rules of some of the sports.

At the end of August, they officially hired you as a junior reporter, but as a political journalist, making the most of your actual major.

You couldn’t let go of how much you enjoyed writing about sports though, and started your own blog with the help of your boyfriend, and his friends. You were especially excited to write about student athletes, and giving them a place to shine while they work towards their goals.

Jungwon had been more than happy to be your first interviewee, meeting you for coffee near his dorm on one particularly breezy September afternoon.

Unbeknownst to you, someone had been watching your exchange from a far corner in the cafe, blending in as if he was a part of the fixture.

  Sunghoon didn’t know what to expect when he saw you across the street, waiting for the crossing light to turn green.

It was the first time he had seen you since that day in his room, and he didn’t think he’d ever see you again.

It was also the first time he had left his dorm for something other than class, and for a moment, Sunghoon wondered if this was a sign that the two of you were inseparable.

But then he saw Jungwon, waving at you from across the street, and as if his mind was on autopilot, he silently followed you to the cafe, finding a seat in the back corner, with only a black coffee in his hand.

“Who or what inspired you to start playing sports?”

Sunghoon thought of his own childhood, and the first time he had stepped on ice. His parents had wanted him to start playing sports to build his confidence, but it had been you who inspired him to go to the rink. You had gone ice skating with your cousins a few weeks prior, and was mad at the ice for making you fall and hit your head. He wanted to fight the ice for you, a concept that could only be thought of by a young boy protecting his best friend, but ended up enjoying himself and enrolling in skating classes. One thing led to another, and soon enough, he was in figure skating classes, and moving up levels quickly, competing by the time he was 10.

Whether you knew it or not, you were the catalyst for his love for skating, and the constant figure that encouraged him to continue by accompanying him to practices and all his competitions.

“What is your favourite part about your sport?”

There was a list of answers Sunghoon could give, and he was sure most figure skaters could relate. Feeling like flying, the freedom that is felt while gliding across the ice, the wind blowing in his face, clearing his head, and so much more, but the only thing he could think of was you.

Seeing you in the stands, clapping and gasping with everyone else as he danced his routine. Seeing your gaze follow his every move, and though it should have made him feel more nervous knowing that someone was watching him, the fact that it was you made him relaxed. He wasn’t performing for the judges, or even for the audience that came to watch the program, but playing with his best friend, like you were still on the playground, throwing sand at each other (he was usually the target, but Sunghoon didn’t care).

And he loved being able to share his love of skating with you. You didn’t care about the figure skating etiquette during his practice sessions, and got kicked out one too many times by his coach for creating a ruckus, but he liked being able to tease you about it after the fact.

And he knew there were days you followed him to competitions to miss school (and to make fun of his outfits), but you were still sharing the memories. You always spent time with him after his competition, then you would spend the weekend together catching up on all of your school work.

“When was the hardest moment while playing the sport?”

This was the easiest, yet the most difficult question for Sunghoon. It was the day he decided to give up figure skating, packing up everything and requesting to put his studies on hiatus, then going home to clear out any memories of figure skating. At the same time, he couldn’t imagine himself going back to the sport, and couldn’t even handle being near so many other athletes at school.

Sunghoon had been so lost reminiscing about his memories with you in response to your questions to Jungwon that he almost missed that you were about to leave.

He quietly followed you as Jungwon showed you around the school, making sure to stay in the shadows to not get caught. He didn’t even realize it when Jungwon introduced the ice rink, his sight only fixated on you.

Since the day you left, your final conversation replayed in his mind constantly. He would type up a message, but back out of sending it, for he thought he was the one who drove you away.

But he had to admit that he needed you, to lean on you, as you had always done for each other growing up.

When he returned to school after taking two years off, everything had changed. He returned after receiving notice that he would be required to withdraw if he did not return the next semester, but his grades had suffered significantly during his first and only term of studies that he was placed on probation, and needed to meet specific requirements. He had also lost his scholarship, not that he would have qualified after quitting figure skating, but his parents wanted to see him back on his feet and he couldn’t bare to disappoint them any longer.

So he tried his best to bring his life back to “normal”, or at least make it appear normal. He chose classes that required the least amount of interactions with other students, and spent almost all of his time in his room. He only came out for lectures, and even then, if an online lecture was a possibility, that was his first choice.

Jungwon stopped by often, and so did his other friends whenever they were in the area, but that was the extent of human interactions for him, only wanting to graduate so that he didn’t have to return anymore.

Exactly two weeks later, Sunghoon found himself staring at your blog, reading your article about Jungwon.

You had always put yourself down when it came to academics, but Sunghoon had always thought that the compulsory school system didn’t do you justice. You had a knack for writing, you just never had a chance to shine as it always involved needing to be overly creative to write a narrative, or analyze a text to write an essay, or explain facts.

You excelled in your person-skills, and your writing only served to prove that. The way you wrote Jungwon’s article made its audience feel like they knew Jungwon on a personal level, someone who was next to them rather than words on a screen. Despite it being a written article, Sunghoon could imagine himself in your shoes, interviewing Jungwon rather than reading about the interview and he had no doubts that others would too. All of Jungwon’s best parts were brought out in your piece, and a few days later, Jungwon would knock on Sunghoon’s door telling him about the calls he had been receiving from agents, and fan letters he was receiving through social media.

Since then, Sunghoon became your biggest fan, not that he hadn’t always been, checking your blog frequently, slowly spending more time out of his bed. He still didn’t leave his dorm, but Jungwon thought it was progress that Sunghoon at least showed some signs of life, though Sunghoon made sure that his younger friend didn’t know what he was up to.

  Jungwon’s interview had gained you more following than you expected. When you weren’t attending press conferences or analyzing new immigration policies, you were travelling to different schools, finding new athletes to interview.

Your blog became more popular as some of these athletes became noticed, or even drafted by professional leagues, that you found yourself drowning in work, and as much as you enjoyed it, you knew it would have negative effects on your mental health.

It was Jake who suggested that you schedule at least one day each week for yourself, and he demanded that every other week be a date with him.

And if he asked on your “off week”, you didn’t reject him.

It was a particularly sunny day in October when almost everything changed.

You were looking back at your first post on your blog, the one about Jungwon, reminiscing about his words as you were preparing your next set of questions for him.

Jungwon had just finished his studies in April, and travelled for a bit before returning to your hometown. The Sabomnim he had trained under recruited Jungwon to teach the youngest group of students, and Jungwon had happily accepted. He had lost interest in competing, and wanted the new challenge of training new athletes, and you were more than willing to cover his new journey.

You had a list of basic interview questions prepared: What made you decide to accept the new challenge? What are you most excited about? Is there a particular teaching pedagogy that you’re considering for your classes?

You knew the interview would end up being more like a conversation, catching up with your younger friend rather than something formal, but you still wanted to be prepared, to give your readers the best image of Jungwon possible.

You were deep in thought when you felt an arm slide around you. Usually, you heard the door open before Jake even made his presence known, so it caught you by surprise when you felt him before you heard him.

He was in casual clothes, which was different than what you had gotten used to in the recent days. Jake had taken you out for so many dates in the past few weeks that you couldn’t remember the last time he was wearing jeans with a sweatshirt, or the last time that he had left his hair to fall naturally.

And you were definitely caught by surprise when when he slid a ring box in front of you.

“I had a whole day prepared,” Jake started, “actually, I had several whole days prepared. And after the first three went wrong, I realized that this isn’t how we work. I even had a whole speech prepared, but I can’t remember a single word anymore.

“We’ve been dating for almost six years now. And every day, I fall more in love with you and know I want to spend the rest of my life with you.

“Will you marry me?”

You stared at Jake in shock, only now realizing that the last few dates had been his attempt to propose.

You were still processing his words, but somehow, your body knew what the answer was before your brain did, “Yes.”