#both med students…

[strawberrytalia]

ok but what’s up with dc writers and treating medical students like they’re 16? 😭 Khalid is SO infantilized and was literally called a “teenager” when he’s supposed to be a grown man. Like he should be at least over 23! Not to mention how insanely overqualified and accomplished he is in magic. (I know in another comic, he becomes an official doctor, but I’m still unsure if that means post residency or not). And Malik is literally a doctor treating people! I don’t know if it’s supposed to be residency or he’s just special lmao, but he should also be over 23-24 years old. It’s not nearly as bad in his case, but I did get this vibe of treating him like a teenager towards the end of Black Adam.

[luvingsolace]

Tbh I think that the “Will wouldn’t be a doctor because he would get tired of seeing pain” argument kinda stems from a misconception of what a doctor does.

To start off, I think we gotta clarify that not ALL types of doctors are exposed to death and pain the way y’all think they are. In fact, many of them aren’t. Probably most.

Second of all, a doctors job isn’t to just send out death sentences. On the contrary, healing is absolutely something that celebrates life! Not everything in a doctor’s job has to do with death and pain, and though many times a condition could arrive to a drammatic point, that’s not all there is!

And talking about Will specifically, call me crazy but I truly don’t see how anyone could see him as anything other than a doctor in canon. Healing is part of him, part of his identity. Without healing and without his dream of being a doctor he is NOT WILL!!! its just such an intrinsic part of his character, and, to me at least, it cannot be taken away.

I also saw some people trying to argue that he “wouldn’t want to relive the trauma of his brothers dying” which? I’m just kinda confused about because it has essentially nothing to do w medicine😭

Will has always dreamed of helping people (one could argue that he dreams of helping people a bit TOO much, basing his entire worth around it) and tho I can kinda see people saying he would get a bit tired (as in like. physically. From him working too much) there are many specializations in medicine, not to mention many ways a doctor can do their job!

[incorrect-pipravi]

Me, because I decided to prioritize my health (both mental and physical) for a few days and now I’ve fallen behind with 10+ lectures to catch up to:

Also me, trying to motivate myself:

[kanerallels]

For @laughingphoenixleader, who requested Kanej in a superhero/villain au

(tw for vague mentions of drug deals and human trafficking, though there's nothing explicit)

The streets of Chicago were clogged with criminals. One couldn’t take a step without seeing a carjacking, a drug sale, a mugging. It was the perfect place for a criminal enterprise to begin and flourish.

It shouldn’t have been a surprise to anyone, then, when someone other than the corrupt law enforcement rose up to stop them.

The Wraith. No one had seen her face, but everyone knew the name. A figure in dark clothing, using knives and carrying out judgment against the traffickers and the dealers before disappearing into the shadows again. Those who used humans as a commodity seemed to be the biggest targets.

Which was lucky for the city’s latest big player.

“Kaz Brekker,” Inej murmured, studying the blurry image on the computer screen. He looked young, though how old she couldn’t tell with the quality of the photo. All that was really obvious was dark clothing and hair, a pale face, and the cane in his gloved hand. Both of which look…familiar.

“Why is he on our radar?” she asked Nina, who was slouched in the wheeled chair in front of the computer.

The young woman shrugged. “Possibly because he’s the main suspect in seventeen different robberies, but no one’s been able to prove it. Or because his right hand man shoots like no human being should be able to. There’s also the fact that he sprouted up out of nowhere overnight. Looks like he took control of Per Haskell’s gang, but he was there all along. We just didn’t see him until now.”

Inej frowned. “Why?”

Getting up from her chair, Nina headed towards the kitchenette in the corner of the basement room Inej used as her headquarters. “Probably because he didn’t want to be seen. And you’ve had other, bigger problems on your mind. Toaster waffle?”

Absently, Inej waved her off, mind spinning. Kaz Brekker. If his plan was to set himself up as the crime lord of the city, that could be a problem. Especially if he was as good as Nina said he was. “I might have to pay him a visit,” she muttered, more to herself than anyone else.

Nina answered anyway as she popped two waffles into the toaster. “Just do me a favor and don’t get stabbed. I have class tonight, and stitching you up doesn’t actually count as homework.”

Despite her cavalier words, Inej could hear the concern hiding behind them, and she smiled. “I’ll be careful, Nina. I promise.”

The other woman didn’t look overly comforted, but nodded all the same.

Later that night, after Nina had cajoled her into eating and resting, then swept off to her night class at Ravka University, Inej slipped out of her civilian clothes and into her suit. It wasn’t quite Superman quality, but the clothing was comfortable and good for sneaking and climbing. She checked to make sure her knives and gear were all secure, and set off into the night.

Brekker seemed to have set up shop at the Crow Club downtown. Inej knew of the place, but Per Haskell—the former owner—had never caused enough trouble for her to have risked the trip, not yet. She’d had bigger prey to track.

Slipping in was a simple matter. One of the windows was unlocked, and Inej eased through into what looked like an office. A desk lined with papers and books stood in the middle, with a cot pushed up against one wall. Does Brekker live here?

A key clicked in the lock, and Inej ghosted into a dark corner, keeping her steps quiet and smooth. A second later, the door swung open, and Kaz Brekker stepped inside, limp obvious, cane swinging.

She caught the barest glimpse of pale skin and high cheekbones before his back was to her, standing at the desk. His movements precise, he flipped through a file, gloved fingers tapping against the outside.

The tapping paused, and his head lifted a little. Then he spoke, his voice rasping and rough.

“The Wraith, I presume.”

How did he know I was here? Inej brushed aside the surprise. There was no use in pretending now. She moved out of the shadows, and Brekker turned to face her.

Inej’s heart skipped a beat. Not for any silly, romantic reasons—though the young man facing her was handsome enough, in a severe way. He was all sharp angles and dark shades, his dark brown eyes taking her in like she was a problem to be solved.

No, the reason her heart skipped a beat was because she knew him.

She hadn’t known his name at the time. But they’d met once, years ago. Before Inej became the Wraith, before she’d escaped the life that had driven her to take this path.

The police had found her. An undercover cop, Detective Nazyalensky, had made contact, and promised her that if she informed on Heleen and her entire organization, she would go free. Inej had been going to meet her the day of the bust when Heleen had summoned her into her office.

She’d known. Inej was sure of it, and if she went into that office, she would be beaten, or sold, or worse. Fear had threatened to choke her, and she’d wavered. Should she run? But she wouldn’t have made it, not if Heleen wasn’t distracted.

And then he’d walked in. He couldn’t have been more than sixteen, but carried himself like a full grown man. But he didn’t look at the girls as he came in, and that struck Inej as curious. The other customers ogled freely.

Maybe he wasn’t a customer. Perhaps he was one of the information dealers who came to Heleen for what the girl’s customers knew. In which case…

She moved toward him quietly, her feet brushing the floor. He was standing at the door of Heleen’s office, facing away from her when she said, “I can help you.”

He’d been startled when he turned to face her, though it faded quickly. He’d lifted an eyebrow, looking a little curious when Heleen’s voice had rung out from the office.

“Enough hiding, little lynx! I said I wanted to see you, and I want to do it now.”

Inej had flinched, unable to prevent the visions flooding her mind. The boy facing her frowned, just a little. Then, he’d spoken. Not to her, but to Heleen.

“You have an appointment to keep with me, Heleen. Haskell won’t wait forever.”

Grumbling, Heleen had appeared at the office door and waved for the boy to follow her in. Before he moved away, the boy had looked at her. “Don’t let them see your tell,” he’d said, voice too quiet to Heleen to make out. “And don’t look back.”

He’d entered the office, and Inej knew. It was time to run.

And so she did. She made it, and Heleen was locked up 24 hours later. Inej was free, and it was thanks to the actions of a stranger.

He had, whether he knew it or not, been the reason she’d gotten away, the reason she’d been able to tell the police everything.

His eyes narrowed a little as he looked at her, and for a second Inej thought, He knows. But then—no. He couldn’t. Her face was covered, and it had been close to four years since her escape.

“And you’re Kaz Brekker,” she said, keeping her voice cool. Business like. “The newest boss on the block.”

“Here to stop me?” Brekker asked, an eyebrow going up. “Bring me to justice like the Black Heretic? The Lantsov family?”

“The police took the Lantsov family,” Inej said, and Brekker snorted.

“The police in this town couldn’t solve their way out of a cardboard box. You handed them the arrest.”

He’s smart. “How do you know that?”

“I make it my business to know.” Folding his hands over his cane, he said, “So, what have I done to merit your attention? I thought I’d kept a fairly low profile.”

“You haven’t done anything. Yet,” Inej said, letting her hand rest on the knives at her waist. Brekker’s gaze followed the movement for only a heartbeat before locking back onto her masked face.

“Ah. Threatening me into submission. Interesting method. Unfortunately for you, I have plans that can’t be put on hold. And you don’t kill anyone unless what they’ve done meets your criteria.”

Inej wouldn’t show her surprise. “You’ve done your research.”

“It’s good to know who I’m dealing with. And to know how you intend to be rid of me.” Continuing, he said, “If you were going to kill me, I’d be dead. Everyone you don’t kill gets handed over to the police, and there’s nothing on me for the police.” The thinnest sliver of a smile appeared. “So, Wraith, your threats are to no avail.”

Oh, he could be dangerous. “Then consider this an appeal to your better nature,” Inej told him.

He laughed, sharp and bitter. “I don’t have one.”

“You have common sense. Don’t give me a reason to come after you, and I won’t.” Inej met his gaze, hoping he would see the intent in her eyes.

He was still for a moment, then inclined his head. “Then perhaps I will see you again, Wraith. Or perhaps not. We’ll see what your code dictates.”

Without another word, he turned back to his desk. Inej hesitated for a fraction of a second, then slipped out the window. Activating the ascension cable she wore strapped to her wrist, she fired it and swung out across the city. She needed to find somewhere to think before her nightly patrols began.

She had a feeling then that she would meet Kaz Brekker again. And she truly didn’t know if she hoped for it or dreaded it.

[anteroom-of-death]

Teacher's Pet part 3

Synopsis: The Doctor struggles with morality. The student is struggling. Both are tearing themselves up.

A/n: I'm sorry for the bit of pain. The next one should be a bit more pain, but it will get better soon. Also. These things are fun to bang out. Especially when you listen to dramatic early 2000s nu metal. Thank you all. Your response to this mean the world to me.

Utterly ashamed and indecent, the Doctor remarked to himself once (y/n) fled the office. He felt utterly indecent. Ashamed. He was shocked that even he could hold such an array of thoughts. Not that he didn’t have similar thoughts before. He had been married before. To multiple people, multiple times. He was the reason why the Virgin Queen wasn’t really a Virgin.

But to a student? No, he couldn’t. Even though this was a charade, he still felt bound to at least some of the rules a professor should follow…

And the scenarios his mind was running? Much more akin to something that his dear best enemy, locked in her Vault would have.

He kicked her out for her own good. Her obvious tone shift and body language change had clued him in to the fact that she picked up on it. The girl was very good at making connections, it seemed. Maybe not getting them in a correct or orderly manner. But she was no idiot. Despite what her brain, past educators, and experts had probably told her.

He knew all about various so-called learning disabilities and some honestly just seemed like evolutionary differences to give the species different roles throughout the tribes and flocks.

Once, before Rose. Before he swore to himself that he would run solo forevermore. He held the idea, the hypothesis: to take a random person from a random planet. Mold their life and bend it to his will. Make a perfect companion. One noble enough to save the day, but not stupid and caring enough to get themselves killed in an act of bravery. Like so many if his past ones.

He shuddered, thanking Rose in Pete’s world for saving him from himself…

But this one? He felt oddly returned to this idea. A perfect companion. This time shaped by her own insecurities. Not preconditions he would control. He admitted he was lonely.

Nardole and Missy didn’t really count.

He stopped himself there. Maybe Missy was rubbing off on him. Getting him to pry back into those darker, more primal urges.

He needed a breath of fresh air. A trip off-planet.

Just Missy’s influence, he shook himself as he meandered down to the mess hall to get a bit of scran before a trip to somewhere. Nothing more, nothing less. Relapse in it's most basic indulgences.

He found himself at the Eye of Orion. Just exactly what the Doctor ordered! Peace and solace. Stop what was shaking him up at the source.

Too bad that he was being plagued by thoughts of (y/n).

She was possessing him.

Clever, nervous, just a hint of something else. She came to the meeting with some sparkly gunk crusted to her eye corners and the residuals of make up being slapped on in layers.

The way she quickly diverted the topic when her work was mentioned slightly irked him. She didn’t elaborate, just a missed appointment and a shocked tone.

What did she do?

Another mystery girl to lure him out of his shell. The universe, in all of its infinite wisdom, loved tossing mystery women at him.

They always frustrated him to arousal. A stupid trait he felt he got from his days crushing over Missy when they were young lads. Back when he shielded everyone from the Drums until they drove him to madness and self-corruption.

Corruption…

That stupid past plot of his past self echoed again. It might be fun. She might be fairly easy to tip into it on her own accord.

He decided against it. Ultimately.

Missy’s influence. Damn it!

He leaned back on the patch of grass he was on. Trying to clear his mind. She was just another daft ape. Just a student for him to inspire to help along the way.

But her grins and demeanor wouldn’t leave him.

Her hunched over form, and the clanging of her jewelry and the way she used her hands to speak…

Was doing something to him. Awakening something he tried to kill.

He relaxed for a while more before returning. Nardole, of course, was exasperated that he went away. Especially without telling him beforehand…

He hadn’t felt this frantic since he was locked in the Confession Dial.

Back in his office, he had a queue of students waiting for Office Hours. Mainly droll questions about the mid-term project. (Mandatory by the university.) The other students sat in her seat, where she had spilled crumbs on. He engaged them. And got a kick out of them and their findings and research. There were a good batch of students in his classes this term.

The Doctor found delight in them and the thoughts of (y/n) went to back-burner.

Then Tuesday came. One of the two days the class (y/n) was in was.

He groaned.

Hopefully today whatever was abnormal faded. Maybe she’d not come. Some sort of survival instinct will have kicked in…

Of course. He wasn’t so lucky. He remembered her scribbled maths equations about her monetary investment in university. He doubted that she’d go and waste the nearly eighty pounds a singular class was costing her. It seemed out of character.

He, in bad faith, wished her ill enough to take off.

Too bad the universe rarely responded well to bargaining.

She slunk in in between the masses of people. As if to go incognito, to not draw his attention. She removed her notebook and got a pen out and slouched forward. He scanned the room as he opened up with his exciting build-upon on Thursday’s lecture. A poem from Robert Burns that tangentially related to the themes. She wasn’t making eye contact, instead she was chewing on the chain of one of her many necklaces. This particular one was the chain that held a pendant with a historical symbol. She was scribbling furiously. Her eyes squinted and she seemed to be muttering a tad bit under her breath. He didn’t want to admit how much he wanted to pry in. To hear. To understand. To respond. To feel.

“And fare thee weel, my only luve! And fare thee weel awhile! And I will come again, my luve, Though it were ten thousand mile.” He finished and then went on with a remark.

“Does the universe love us? Does it owe us?And if it does, why?” He opened up to the floor to discussion and debate.

Many responded, except for (y/n), who obviously was holding her tongue and trying to not make eye contact with anyone. Just focused in on writing and listening.

He could carve out a response from her.

“Miss (y/n’s surname)? What do you think, I think Braelynne made a fantastic point. Come, join us.”

(Y/n) spat out the chain and straightened up her posture. She had pen ink on her chin and looked, quite frankly like she’d leak tears.

She sniffled before speaking, a crack in her voice. “I think it’d be narcissistic to assume that the universe owes us anything. But does it love us? Maybe. It loves itself through us. Like, like, like, when we do tasks like help an elderly neighbor carry their groceries in. Or give a few coins to a homeless person. It’s the universe loving itself. Maybe it’s like when you drink something probiotic. To the germs in your gut…aren’t you the entire universe? I don’t know. I do think that thinking you, out of all creation, prioritizing yourself in the center of it….uhhh. Red flag!” She flustered, grabbing her pen and resuming the furious scratching she was making.

That gave the Doctor a world of insight to her brain, inner workings. Maybe she felt like she was owed something but held some remorse over these thoughts. It seemed conflicting in her punctuation and how hard she seemed to force the words out. Wise, beyond wise, but also leaving herself a tad bit shortsighted and a decided lack of grace.

Obviously she didn’t want to speak. Obviously she had plenty to occupy her mind with at that moment.

So he pursued via others, “Is it narcissistic to expect something when, by (y/n)’s standards, we’re bacteria and microbes in a greater gut system?”

Someone replied that it was reductive and put humans on the same levels as non-sentient life. That they had greater purposes. That the microbes’ lives were less vital than a human life. (Y/n) scrunched her nose in disgust at such a statement. Internal dissent.

Ah, he thought, very good. A measure of her morals.

He built on that. He opened up the topic, getting more opinions from the other student. Hoping she’d speak up…

He noticed (y/n) shoving her things into her bag and sniffling again. Maybe he did get what he earlier asked the universe for. Maybe she was sick. Maybe.

Ironic.

She made a beeline for the door, “Sorry. I have…an emergency.” She turned to him at the door. “I’ll get the notes from someone.” She promised. Her chest was beginning to visibly heave.

He nodded and she shot out of the room like a horse out of a gate.

[amoontoyou]

so to sum it up, george had mono and sapnap prob gave him his old antibiotics because they thought he had strep throat. but mono is viral, not bacterial so it's not cured with antibiotics. amoxicillin in particular, the antibiotic that they mentioned sapnap gave george, has a skin reaction (exactly like george’s rash) when mistakenly taken for mono. it happens also when doctors accidentally prescribe amoxicillin for mono. george was sick after antarctica. dream was sick during antarctica. mono is spread by saliva. they call it the kissing disease. dream has kissed a variety of men. have a good day.  

[hum--hallelujah]

honestly if I were ever to throw the Suitehearts into any of my Killjoys stuff the dynamic would literally be the stupidest thing in the world. you do not want to have the Four and those guys together in any setting. it's a recipe for disaster. Jet and Benzedrine bitch and bicker like old ladies. telepathic warfare is waged via a complex language of glares and eyebrow movements between everyone in the room. Sandman makes a wholeheartedly joking comment to Ghoul like "I want to study you in a lab" and Kobra Kid gives him a black eye on the spot. Crab and Donnie end up playing hide n seek with the Girl until someone else who isn't aware of the game accidentally dumps a whole dude out of their hiding spot on accident and then gets elbowed for it. everyone hates each other but they're also kind of pals in the way that people who occasionally help each other out but don't see each other outside of that can be. that kind of thing

[nerdgirlnarrates]

Recently I was talking to another med student and shared that before my grandmother died, her heart failure had gotten so bad that her doctors couldn’t effectively diurese her and she ended up needing several thoracenteses. The other med student suggested that these procedures were too aggressive and my grandmother’s doctors should have let her die instead. And I’m confused, because these procedures were very much palliative in nature: it is painful to have a pleural effusion preventing you from breathing well. She needed surgery to address the valve issues causing her heart failure, but she was not a good candidate for surgery, so she had already foregone curative measures. Also, my grandmother did not want to die of a pleural effusion. I’m not saying her quality of life was good--it wasn’t--but she didn’t want to essentially drown to death. And I’m kind of upset at the notion that her doctors should have forced her to die that way. That’s not humanity, peace, or dignity in death. Maybe I’m misunderstanding something, but the conversation has left me unhappy.

[lurking-latinist]

⛵

[struggling-to-find-home]

Hot new idea: next time, I should try studying pathological anatomy and pathophysiology drunk.

[mistninja]

Told my friend that his behavior is making me sad instead of keeping it in for another week I'm gonna throw up

[cupiare]

everything is soooo hard today i need to throw a temper tantrum to feel ok

[zaideaben]

my half of an art trade with my friend supportivesins over on artfol and instagram!! we each made an au for our ocs, hehe. here's my oc zaide and her oc alias as shitty med students together. <3

[space-pirate-alex]

Posting my little Steckle/OC moodboard because I like it

[tchaikovskym]

me and my friend have both been uni teachers and we both have taught a subject we knew nothing about. it was the same subject.

[jaratedeguadalupe]

virgil and remus watch buzzfeed unsolved when everybody is asleep idc