#free college lessons

[medsocionwheels]

Medical Sociology 101: What is medical sociology, and how is it distinct from other approaches to studying medicine, health, illness, disability, and healthcare?

Medical sociology is both a social science and a health science—it is one of the social scientific approaches to studying topics in health science. So, how is the sociological approach to studying topics in medicine, health, illness, and disability, distinct from other approaches to examining these topics?

Medical sociologists study health, illness, and healthcare, in terms of social problems and social factors. They are not looking at individual issues, nor are they interested in biological or cognitive factors independent of social factors.

Now, it’s important to note that social problems do, in fact, impact individuals, but sociologists aren’t interested in this impact to the individual as much as they’re interested in the shared impacts of social problems across groups of individuals. 

So, sociology is not always useful for understanding personal experience; however, sociological research can give insight as to whether your experience is similar to experiences of other people with shared characteristics. instead of asking something like, “why does this individual patient have this experience” the medical sociologist might instead ask, “are there characteristics shared by many patients with this experience which may predispose an individual to have said experience?” So, here, not asking why this individual patient has the experience, but why does this group of patients have this experience while another group does not.

Medical sociology demonstrates that things like likelihood of health or illness, experiences and perceptions of medicine, health, illness, and disability, who provides health care, how healthcare is provided, and to whom it is provided, and institutional aspects of the healthcare system itself, are not random, but instead, are shaped by social factors. Medical problems become social problems when they are shared by many individuals with some similar characteristic, experience, or circumstance.

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[figofswords]

the post grad why did i get an art degree what am i even doing what do i want in life where am i going crisis has finally hit i want to. lie down in the dirt. or something

[mostunloyalbamtori]

Guess who was busy with her lessons all day so she checked out riddle's platinum jacket card 7 hours after it got uploaded

HOLY SHIT I LOVE MY SON SO MUCH HE ATE HE KNOWS HE ATE

THAT EYE MAKE UP LOOKS SO GOOD ON HIM TOO GUYS HE'S SO CUTE I LOVE HIM HES TEETH ARE SO PERFECT

[news4dzhozhar]

[abilouwrites]

THE WORLD DIDNT END

To all my slowpokes, the ones who wait and the ones who fail. But you always manage to continue and learn ❤️

The world didn’t end when I was fifteen and failed getting my permit. Three times. It didn’t end when on my birthday I was alone with my best friend and my uninvited cousins who still showed up.

It didn’t end when I wanted to kill myself, it didn’t end when my mother got cancer and I couldn’t eat. The world didn’t end when I couldn’t look at myself in the mirror without wanting to be skinnier. It didnt end when I got diagnosed with a chronic illness.

The world didn’t end when I was 18 and almost lost my leg and my boyfriend wouldn’t answer my calls and my best friend drove me to the hospital. The world didn’t end when I didn’t get my license first try. It didn’t end when I got disqualified in my first show. Nor did it when I got rejected from my dream college.

And it didn’t end after I found out my boyfriend was cheating on me.

Through it all I pushed through, I took my antibiotics, I went to therapy and my mom got better. I didn’t end when I moved in with my best friend, nor did it end when I moved back home and am going to college. And it won’t end when my best friend turned girlfriend is packing up and moving across the country to pursue her dreams.

I’ve learned to take my time, to do things when I felt ready. Not when society said I was ready.

[paging-possum]

Guys pro tip don’t burn urself out because recovering from burning yourself out sucks so bad

[arkhammaid]

obsidian notes > onenote >>>>>>>> notion 👹

[godofthestupid]

wuhuu finally managed to send off that email to get out of this god awful university

I'm not going to waste money and time on people who decide on a whim and roll of dice if someone should pass or not,nor am I going to waste time and money on lessons which can either be summarized with "why wasn't this an email?" or yt tutorials

[artdcnaldson]

NEED art and patrick to find out I'm a virgin and offer to teach me how to kiss and how to fuck and use eachother as examples and guide me and tell me I'm doing a good job and reward me for being such a good student and come back later and quiz me to see if I remember everything they taught me ugh obsessed with them individually and as a unit

This has lived rent free in my mind for literally forever. I can’t stop thinking about it, it haunts my every waking moment.

Rating: E (18+)

Warnings: Making out, Handjob lessons, guys being pervs, not a love triangle they just all want to fuck each other

A/N: unedited bc I wrote this while on the clock okay whatever. Enjoyyyy and if u want me to continue this lmk >:)

“I think it’s sweet,” Patrick said, and you could hear the amusement in his voice, practically dripping from every syllable. “The last American virgin. You belong in a museum.”

You rolled your eyes and tossed your empty Taco Bell cup at him— the ice rattled and it leaked a puddle of condensation onto the ground. “You could try not to be a dick about it.”

Art’s dorm room was hot and sticky thanks to a faulty AC, which meant the three of you lounging on the floor by his open window, sucking down soda watered down by melted ice cubes. You were down to a T-shirt and shorts, they were down to their boxers. It wasn’t lost on you that it was an intimate situation to be in— barely dressed, crammed into the shoebox of a dorm. And of course Patrick had dug his fingers in until you admitted your secret— you had made it all the way to college totally unfucked.

Patrick leaned forward, smiling the smarmy smile that tended to wear at your last nerve. “So you’re a virgin, but like,” he leaned in, so close you could feel body heat radiating from him. He dropped his voice, just above a whisper. “How much of a virgin, really? You’ve at least gone to third, right?��� You glared, but shook your head.

“Second?” Art supplied, suddenly jumping in with an eager sort of curiosity.

“What? No, I don’t even know what that means,” you admitted. You sighed before you spoke up. “I’ve only ever kissed one guy and one girl, and it was during a game of spin the bottle, like, junior year.”

“How?” Patrick asked.

Your brows furrowed. “How? I spun the bottle, it landed on the person, I leaned in, put my lips against theirs, and that was it.”

Patrick sighed. “Just fucking show me how.” He looked at you expectantly, inching even closer.

With an annoyed sigh, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his— mouth closed, lips firm. When you sat back, Patrick and Art were both grinning.

“What?” You asked with a frown.

“That’s how you kiss on the playground in elementary school,” Art said, unable to contain his laughter. “C’mere.”

You crawled forward, stopping in front of the blond. His hand settled on your jaw, coaxing you forward.

His lips met yours softly, sweetly. It was easy to lose yourself in the feeling of Art’s mouth, in the gentle brushes of his lips against yours and the way he held your face so tenderly.

The feeling of his tongue pressing against the seam of your lips was strange, but you welcomed it, letting him lick into your mouth.

Each pass of his tongue against yours drew you deeper and deeper into it, into him. You moved into his lap without realizing it, kissing him with sweet, timid laps of your tongue.

Art pulled back first, his cheeks soft and pink and so pretty. “See? That’s how you’re supposed to kiss someone. That was really good.”

You laughed softly, and moved off of his lap sheepishly. Patrick leaned forward, brushing your hair back, holding your face in his hand.

“Okay, show me what Art showed you,” he instructed, then leaned in.

Kissing Patrick was different than kissing Art. He was hungrier, more insistent. His tongue pressed into your mouth like he wanted to chart every inch. You did your best to match what he offered, to kiss the way Art had just shown you, sweetly, like you really meant it.

And you did mean it. Patrick’s hands moved along your side, up until they cupped your tits through your shirt. You moaned softly into his mouth— the sound was muffled, met with a moan of his own. He gave an experimental squeeze of your tits and you whined softly. So he did it again, amused by the pretty, sweet noises you mewled out.

Patrick was getting hard, pressing against your thigh. It was a new sensation that you were hyper aware of as you unconsciously ground yourself against him.

You pulled back first, cheeks burning hot after you remembered Art was right beside you. You tucked unkempt hair behind your ear, smiled bashfully. “How was I?”

“Good,” Patrick said.

At the same time Art supplied, “So good.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Okay. Cool.”

Art was squirming, fidgeting, holding a pillow over his lap. Patrick was less covert— opting to openly adjust himself, drawing more attention to the fact that he was hard. You rolled your eyes and stole the nearest cup you could find, sipping at watered down Mountain Dew.

“Do you want me to leave?” You teased, raising an eyebrow. Your teeth dug into the plastic straw as you looked between the two of them.

Art stammered, mortified, but Patrick just smiled dizzyingly over at you. “I can teach you something else. You got to first base, so why don’t you steal second?”

You rolled your eyes, but heat flared behind your cheeks. Jesus Christ, he was such a smug asshole. “I still don’t know what that means,” you said, feeling a little embarrassed.

He grinned and mimed jerking off. Your eyes widened, and you laughed softly. “That would be weird,” you said, half-believing it. “Like, if I did jerk one of you off, that leaves one of you just watching.”

You glanced at Art, who looked just as interested as Patrick did, and your heart stammered nervously. “What if I show you how you do it on Art? Look at him— he’s the perfect little practice dummy.” Patrick reached over, pinching at Art’s cheek until the blond kicked his shin.

“Show me?” You echoed. “Like… you’re going to do it to him, and I do it to you?”

Patrick nodded, leaning into Art’s side, his smarmy smile dissolved into something needier. Art swallowed hard, lips parted slightly as he looked over at Patrick.

Patrick’s lips met his slowly, hungrily. You watched wide eyed as Patrick deepened the kiss, as Art eagerly accepted the other boy’s tongue into his mouth.

Patrick threw the pillow out of Art’s lap and sent it careening into the desk on the opposite side of the room. Your eyes widened at the sight of Art, hard and tenting his boxers. Patrick palmed him in his large hands making the blonde whimper into his mouth and buck up, seeking friction.

You swallowed hard, biting down on the straw as you watched Patrick tug at the elastic of Art’s boxers. Art lifted his hips to allow Patrick to tug them down his thighs, just enough to expose his cock to both of you.

“See,” Patrick gasped, leaning back from their kiss. Art chased his lips fruitlessly, mouth ajar, waiting for more. “He’s so fucking easy. Come feel.”

You moved closer, looking at Art for permission. When he nodded, you reached out, letting your fingertips graze the soft skin of his shaft. He exhaled a shuddery breath, eyes fluttering shut. Patrick’s hand covered yours, guiding you to squeeze around his length.

He was warm under your touch, silky soft, pulsing in your grip. Your heart hammered just at that— at the feel of him in your hand. “Feels nice, huh? Knowing how much he wants you.” You nodded, then slid your fist up, testing the waters. Art moaned softly, throbbed in your grip, aching for more. Patrick smiled like the cat who got the cream. “Hands off, just watch me.”

Patrick spat into his hand and replaced your hand with his own. The second Patrick curled his fingers around Art and started stroking him slowly, the blond was mewling for more. “Fuck,” he moaned, his forehead knocking against Patrick’s, mouth open, panting. “That’s good, feels good.”

You watched Patrick rub his thumb over Art’s tip, eyes widening as Art really whimpered for it, hips thrusting up into Patrick’s fist, chasing more of the pleasure the brunet offered.

“You get it now?” Patrick asked. You nodded quickly, and he tugged down his own boxers. “Fuck, okay— fucking show me.”

Your heart hammered with nerves, but you nodded. You held your hand out and spit into it, mimicking what Patrick had done before you wrapped your hand around his cock.

He felt bigger in your hands, but you didn’t say that. One, you worried it might piss Art off, and two, he didn’t need the ego boost. And he was slick, beading precum at his tip so each pass of your hands felt slicker and slicker.

And you couldn’t help but want to be an asshole. “You’re wet like a girl,” you said with a smirk, gliding your thumb over his tip.

And he was shameless, nodding with a sly grin. “That means I like you.” He panted, moaning softly. “Besides, I bet your fucking panties aren’t dry right now.”

Well, fuck. You tried to ignore the rush of heat in your belly that those words caused, to focus only on the glide of your hand on Patrick’s cock— up and down, copying his pace on Art, copying the ways he’d squeeze and twist his hand.

Art was moaning, rutting up into the tight sheath of Patrick’s fist, the muscles of his abdomen tensing and relaxing in unsteady jerks beneath his soft skin.

“Fuck— switch, switch,” Patrick said quickly. Art whined when Patrick stopped touching him, but it was ignored. “Want you to feel it when he comes.”

He guided your hand back onto Art’s cock and nodded for you to move. “Fuck, your hand’s so soft,” Art groaned. “Faster, faster, fuck—“ He was practically begging. You swallowed, increased the pace, squeezed him a little tighter.

Art was touching Patrick— jerking him off while you brought him closer and closer to finishing. Patrick leaned in, kissed you deeply, pulled Art in too until the three of you were a mess of tongues and lips and spit and hands.

Art came first— coating your hand in warm, slick cum, throbbing in your grip. He was panting into your and Patrick’s mouths, moaning softly as you continued to slowly work him through it. Patrick came next, once Art redoubled his effort, focused on making Patrick add to the mess covering your hands.

Patrick was loud, pornographic, messy. Art brought a cum covered hand between his lips, cleaning it up. Your eyes widened.

“Art, c’mon, you’re scandalizing her,” Patrick said, like you weren’t even there.

“Shut up,” you said, shoving him. He laughed and pulled his boxers back up. Art followed suit, and the three of you were left gross and sweating in the heat. You wiped your hand off on one of their discarded shirts and gave a sheepish smile.

They sat there, expectantly. Waiting for you to make the next call. There was a level of want in you, need, but the thought of asking for them to take care of it was mortifying. “Do you want to watch a movie or something now?”

[lesbianstarlightglimmer]

Thank StarClan for teachers pay teachers

[diah-the-demon]

just got a call from my grandparents ughhh

hate talking with them

[sweet-as-kiwis]

And so the Great Instrument Swap begins

[calmlythrilling]

A harsh poke will reveal a hard center - judging from a piece of bone sticking out from the red 'stem'...well, imagination likely can fill in the rest. The 'leaves' are notably more squishy and rubbery compared to the stem, but also unmistakably soft and sharp like peach fuzz. Bubbles on the 'leaves' slosh about like there's liquid inside, deflating when poked too roughly, and slow to fix itself back in place.

There's a small grin as Dennis recoils. "Not even the worst I've made." It's one of the few things PV thinks highly of himself for - each and every mutant he's created. He's known for discoveries and people still seek to buy that research off of him today.

"Skin to..." Dennis tilts his head, re-examining the texture and substance of the alien hybrid plant thing again. "...not quite skin bad then. Kay. Got it."

Gloves are on, hand is reaching out--

"Oh that feels so weird." Give him a few seconds though to shiver and recoil, the teenaged urge to touch again will bounce back as soon as the grossness passes, and then he'll get right back to poking Wiggums.

[wwwyzzerdd420]

Couldn't be me

[eggs-love-loki]

There’s no teacher joy like getting a “yeah it was pretty cool” from a middle school student about an activity you did with them

[faerie-fang]

the israeli government offers huge incentives for jews to move to israel — free healthcare, college tuition, tax benefits, rental assistance, free ulpan (immersive hebrew lessons) and of course — citizenship. for zionists, moving to israel is viewed as a beautiful thing, being able to go back to the ‘homeland’ a holy return — the phrase for it “making aliyah” or “to make aliyah” literally means to ascend — but it’s settlement. it’s government incentives to settle the land to give israel more power, more leverage, more future soldiers for the idf.