#i also have a chem review i need to do

[feidude]

update: so far i did one thing ☝️

[liacademia]

final grind

some notes i took since yesterday, so i gotta say, i did get a wee bit more productive, i was able to channel my inner beast and woke up at 6 AM today, pure torture, will not recommend.

but nevertheless, so today i started solving 3 sets of question banks, one for each subject and will try to complete it for physics & chem, but will do only high priority chaps for maths.

i also have been reviewing the weak topics, finalized instruments today and a few more to go, now we're at the time where i need to start finalizing my prep, so i'll try and begin with chem overview now, i'd want it to be in-depth and thorough, so that i'll be done with each chap by the exam date, i have another mock tomorrow and after which the frequency of mocks will increase, they'd be commenced every other day than being every two days, which'd be pretty hectic, but that's alr, anyway the exam's approaching closer and closer, and i'm shit scared, let's hope it goes well :')

[bnhascribbles]

Anatomy

Bakugou X Reader

Humor, Hurt/Comfort (if you squint)

Words: 4.8K

Warnings: Swearing

Life happens in funny ways. You think you know yourself, how you’ll react in a given situation. Then one day, a man strolls into the room with an entire human arm (one you’re fairly sure he didn’t grow himself) slung across his shoulders, and you start to think that maybe, just maybe, you don’t know anything about anything. 

But you’re getting ahead of yourself. It’s best to start from the beginning…

He’s wearing plain black tee, unwrinkled and too-tight around the arms. That, and a deep-set scowl that radiates down towards whatever textbook he’s got spread out in front of him. 

It’s so perfectly unfair.

The universe seems to be dead-set on screwing you over. Maybe it‘s payback for the time you stole matches from the chem lab in undergrad (in your defense, it was 10 PM on a Monday and it was your last “hoorah” before you dropped). Maybe you shouldn’t have hogged the library scanner so often copying chapters out of textbooks you didn’t want to pay for, should’ve maybe been a little kinder in your end-of-course review for that one physics TA. Regardless, you don’t deserve your fate. 

Not the exhaustion. Not the stress. Not the burden of ending up in the same year as a piece of trash like Bakugo. 

Katsuki Bakugo. Second-year medical student in the top 10% of the class. Also a grade A jackass whose jackass-ery is only supported by the fact that he’s sitting in your spot. 

Now, you knew assigned seats were a thing for middle schoolers, not 20-something year-olds training to learn to manage actual human lives. Still, when a person occupies the same place in the library for a year and a half, there’s a basic human decency that overrides the need for seating charts and nameplates. Maybe the great Katsuki just can’t grasp that concept. Surprising given the fact that he seems to be picking up on literally everything else with inhuman speed. Genetics. Cardio. Derm. Renal. 

Even MSK. Fucking MSK. He was positively thriving in the very musculoskeletal hell that had you retreating to the library for 8+ hours every afternoon after lecture. Which only aggravates the acidic heat you feel brewing in your belly when you see him and Eijiro Kirishima living it up in your study carrel. Kirishima seems to have made himself comfortable standing, resting both of his (positively beefy) arms along the partition dividing to tables. He’s yammering up a storm: something something pen light something no way it’s enough time for a full history. Katsuki is at least seated in his (your) chair, but his eyes are glued to his phone rather than his friend. Or his textbook. Or the laptop open right in front of him. 

There’s not a glimmer of productivity in sight. It’s been like this for the past 15 minutes. You know because you’ve been watching, waiting (semi-) patiently in hopes that they’d just pack up and carry on elsewhere. But no, they’re still there. Wasting their time and your space. 

What little patience you had left dwindles to nothing in the span of seconds. You gather your things up in your arms and march across the library towards them. 

Kirishima sees you first, greeting you with a megawatt grin and a chipper “how’s it goin’?” You hadn’t really interacted with him one-on-one aside from the occasional confused looks you shared during lectures or simulation sessions. All you really know about him is that he and Bakugo are practically joined at the hip, which, up to this point, has been enough to make you keep your distance. Still, Kirishima seems so genuinely kind (unlike his friend who still hasn’t so much as looked at you) that it makes it very hard to stay pissed at him. Which is fine. He isn’t the one in your chair. 

I’m doing good. Now, respectfully, I ask that you and your friend vacate the area so I can study in my usual spot, please and thank you. 

“You know how it is, same old, same old. School, sleep, repeat.” It’s better than what you want to say. You tug your bag further up your shoulder.

“Ain’t that the truth. At least we have a little bit of a breather, huh?”

“Huh?” Breather? The last “breather” you’d had was when the pulmonology professor coerced you into demonstrating proper technique with an inspiration spirometer. Somehow, you don’t think that’s what Kirishima is getting at. 

“You know, in this class.” He clarifies. “It’s pretty easy compared to renal.” 

You snort, “yeah, that’s a good one.”

Kirishima blinks.

“MSK…the musculoskeletal system. Being easy. That’s funny.”

Kirishima lets out an awkward  sort of laugh, and an uncomfortable silence falls over the study area. The shrill ding of the elevator rings from the other side of the floor. Your classmate’s smile goes deliberately apologetic. You sigh. 

“I’m guessing you’re not getting your ass kicked by this class.” You say, placing extra emphasis on the you’re bit. Kirishima scratches at the back of his neck. 

As if things aren’t already bad enough, you feel them then.  The extra set of eyes settling on you.

“He’s the president of the orthopedic surgery interest group.” Bakugo says. “Bones and the meat attached to them are the only things he actually cares about.” When you fail to respond, he lets out a puff of air from his nose and it’s a wonder the desk doesn’t burst into flames right then and there. “Besides, he isn’t wrong. This class is a cakewalk.” 

You stand there, seething. You’re being perfectly polite, keeping the daydreams of concussing him into Glasgow 3 with the underside of your boot securely in your skull. 

“Well,” you say, slowly, “I guess everyone has their strengths.”

Bakugo doesn’t take the hint; he pushes.

“How is this harder than renal where things are microscopic?” He rises in one quick motion, resting a knee on the seat. As he leans forward, he lays an arm over the wooden back. He’s nowhere near as toned as Kirishima, but you can see the muscles shifting beneath his skin. Pronounced, like some real-life anatomical model. Triceps, biceps, coracobrachialis—you list them off silently because fuck him.

“Renal is pure physiology,” you say. “Everything has a when and why that you can logic through. MSK is just memorization.”

“Because there’s absolutely no memorization when it comes to nephrons.” His lips pull back into a mocking sort of sneer as he begins to count off on his fingers. “Sodium-hydrogen antiporters, sodium-chloride symporters, Sodium-potassium-chloride—”

“There’s a charge gradient driving that shi—” Not worth it, not worth it and you know it. 

What would be the point of attending all those school-mandated mindfulness sessions where you sat in a dark classroom meditating (rather than taking the half-day to do literally anything else) if you let this conversation ruin your day? You had to refocus. Think about the sensation of breathing—in, then out. Your hands, the weight of them hanging at your sides. Your feet and the way they feel sitting within your shoes… aaaaaaand yup, there’s a crinkle in your sock. Now that’s all you’re only going to be able to think about until you can fix it. Thanks meditation.

“You know what, nevermind you guys.” You take a clearing breath. “Everyone has their forte, and I know mine is not muscle origins and insertions. Anyway, I just remembered I have a thing at a place, so I’m going to be heading out.”

And that’s exactly what you plan to do. You ignore the hushed muttering behind you as you trudge towards the elevator, because none of that is actually your problem anymore. You’re mindful and centered and—

And a hand latches onto your shoulder. You lurch forward as momentum does its thing, only spared from a faceplant into the however-many-decades-old carpet by the sheer strength of your assailant's grip. You spin, already expecting who you have to blame and planning out the venomous rant you’ll spit their way (library “quiet please!” sign be damned). But rather than meeting Bakugo’s gaze, it’s his palm that floats mere inches from your nose. 

You open your mouth, but he’s quicker to speak than you are.

“I fall on an outstretched palm and fuck up my hand. Four days later I come to you and tell you it still hurts like hell—I can’t move it anymore. What tests do you order?” 

There’s silence for a good long moment. Then your senses return to you in one quick rush.

“What the actual hell Katsuki?” A couple other library-goers flinch and shoot your sharp looks towards your outburst, but who even cares anymore? 

“Answer the question.”

“No, because like what the actual hell? We already established I’m an idiot, so can you please just leave me alone?”

Bakugo’s grip on your shoulder tightens and you swat it off with a loud smack. His eyes widen as both you and he cast glances towards his hand, now floating off in dead space beside the pair of you. He purses his lips. 

“Nobody called you an idiot.” He tries to be casual about lowering both of his hands to his sides, tucking them into his pockets.

“Maybe not using those exact words, they didn’t.” You say, soft but firm. “But the implication was clear.” 

Then you stare. Bakugo does too, his eyes wider than usual, lips pulled back in a tight line. You’re no expert in reading people, but he’s also no expert in keeping the emotion from showing plainly in his expression. Surprise, which gives way to confusion, which gives way to something else.

“You’re not an idiot.” He finally says. Neither of you speak, letting the words hang in the space between you. Even as you’re both extremely aware of Kirishima is edging his way towards your spot by the elevators.

You let out a heavy sigh, folding your arms.

“X-Ray.” You say. Bakugo flinches, going so far as to take a full step backwards. Which is rich, given that with all the sucker punches you’ve imagined striking him with, a single word is enough to catch him off-guard. But even Kirishima freezes, mouth caught in shape somewhere between goofy grin and catching flies.

They both stand there, and you roll your eyes and say, “I’d order an x-ray first.”

Bakugo’s gaze narrows, and like that he’s back to his usual self. You swear you even see the corner of his mouth twitch upward. “Why an x-ray?”

“Why not?”

“You’re the doctor—what are you gonna say to your patient when they ask the same question?” He scratches at his head, mocking, all evidence of remorse wiped from his system. “Geeze, I dunno, ‘x-ray’ is 14 points in Scrabble so I guess I’ll order that.”

You should be angry, but something feels…different about the bickering this time. That and—

“How do you know how many points ‘x-ray’ is in scrabble?” You ask, half-mocking. Because while you’re sincerely wondering if Katsuki Bakugo spends his Saturday nights playing Scrabble, you also want him to squirm a bit.

“Why do you want an x-ray?” He repeats the question. There’s a dusting of red across his cheeks creeping towards his ears. 

Nice, you think.

“Because an x-ray is the first thing you get when someone comes in after a hand injury.”

“Why’d the patient wait four days to come in though?” You open your mouth and he cuts in with “don’t say ‘because it didn’t stop hurting.’ This is a vignette, not real life.”

“But what’s even the point of all this if not to prepare for real life?”

“Will you just—” He clenches his teeth tight and takes a deep breath. “Think for a second. What’s on your differential?”

You chew at your lip. “Fracture.”

“But which bone?” You hesitate, your mistake, and he shakes his head. “Just think. This is a classic presentation. On every test you’ll ever take. What bone in the hand is supplied by a retrograde blood flow?”

And you don’t know. Shit, you’ll have to look that up when you get home. Still, you’ll swallow a jar of thumbtacks before you ever admit that to Bakugo. You shoot Kirishima, who’s standing over Bakugo’s shoulder now, an exasperated look. He starts to say something, but then he’s getting cut off. 

“Don’t help, or they won’t learn.” Bakugo snaps. His red-hot gaze fixes between your eyes. “And you, don’t look at him. This is basic anatomy.”

Anger wells in your chest again. “Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t know I was in lecture right now.” 

You were furious at Bakugo, true. But…but also at yourself. You should know this. You’d had a lecture on the hand last week, which was practically a year ago in medical time. Your classmates were soaring through, already on nerve innervations while you struggled to learn the building blocks. School used to be fun, tests like a mini-competition you were guaranteed to win. 

You’d never struggled like this before, had never had to grapple with the fact that even after days of forgoing sleep in favor of studying, you were still floundering. Something in your brain was wired wrong, you were sure. Medical school is like trying to drink out of the ocean with a straw, everyone said. It’s the hardest thing you’ll do, they said. Then how was it that nobody else seemed to be struggling like you were? 

But again. You could be studying now, could be working on figuring out exactly the shit Bakugo is rubbing in your face. But no. Instead you’re stuck in a pissing match with Mr. Perfect. Mr. Top-of-the-class, God’s-blonde-gift-to-humanity. The conversation isn’t even worth it anymore. You’d meant to leave before and now you were going to follow through. You scoff and start to walk off—

And he’s in front of you. Bakugo has taken one step to his right and effectively placed himself between you and the elevator. 

“Move.” You demand.

“Just answer the damn question.”

“No. You’re not my professor.”

“I’m also not failing the only class where you are the cheat sheet.”

You wince. The truth in it stings something fierce.

“Enough, Katsuki.” Kirishima finally cuts in, his normally-cheery voice harder than you’ve ever heard. “You’re being a real jerk right now.”

Bakugo opens his mouth like he’s going to say something sharp, but the words die on his tongue. He looks between you and his friend.

“It’s a scaphoid fracture, Eijiro. They’ve only mentioned it like a thousand times, so imagine how much harder the rest—”

“That’s enough.” Kirishima says it again, louder. He grabs Bakugo by his upper arm and drags him out of your way. The lines between his brow are deep when he looks toward you, making him look years older than he had only minutes before. “I’m sorry about…well about all of that.”

About Bakugo? you want to ask. Or about the fact that he’s actually right for once?

You say nothing and hurry into the elevator. You don’t even try to hide the way to tap hurriedly at the door close button. The sooner you get out of here, the sooner you can get home. The sooner you get home the sooner you can get in bed and wallow, pretending you actually belong—

There’s a loud scuffle, a shout, then something slides between the elevator doors just as they bolt. You stagger, your back pressing flush to the metal wall behind you as a menacing presence invades your space.

“I carry mace.” You sputter, reaching for your keys as Bakugo slams the button for the first floor. The medical library was on the twelfth.

“Meet me in the dry lab on Saturday.” He says, mere inches of space separating his chest from yours.

You blink. Bakugo doesn’t. He stares, not at the neon aerosol pointed directly at his face, but at you in all your terrified glory. 

“I’d rather not.” You say, slowly.

He grits his teeth. “Why not?”

“Because you’re kind of an asshole. And I’d rather not spend my free time with assholes.”

“You’d rather fail?”

“I’m already doing that.” You purse your lips. “As you so astutely pointed out before.”

He opens his mouth to say something, but then the elevator door opens on the ninth floor. A shorter boy takes a step as if to get on, but freezes as soon as he catches sight of the pair of you. Bakugo twists to look back over his shoulder. You can’t be sure exactly what he does in that moment, but whatever it is has the other student taking several slow steps backwards. The elevator door shuts and he makes no attempt to get back on.

Bakugo’s attention shifts back entirely towards you. 

“Will you put that away before you blind us both?” He asks as he gestures towards your mace with his chin. He asks in the way that exasperated parents ask questions that aren’t really questions. Would you like to play nicely with your sibling, or would you like to explain to the emergency room staff how reenacting ‘Lion King’ ended up with one of you spraining your neck? 

“I don’t like the way you talk to me.” You say, the words are more honest than you intend. They’re not what he expects, based on the way his eyes go wide. “I’m an idiot when it comes to most things, but I already know that and I don’t need you drilling the point home every five seconds.”

He grabs at his hair with both hands, tugging as he lets out an exasperated groan. “What is with you?! Nobody is calling you an idiot, so will you stop calling yourself one?”

“Once you stop making me feel like one, then maybe I will.”

“Listen,” he says through gritted teeth, “I’m gonna give you a piece of advice here—”

“Not asking for it.”

“I don’t give a shit, you’re gonna listen because you’re an adult and apparently nobody has told you this much yet.” He holds his arms out wide at his sides, leaning forward. “Not everyone is thinking about you all the time. Sometimes, when people are talking about classes they find easy, it’s because they think they’re easy! They’re not calling you stupid because you don’t—they’re just talking.”

“Yeah? And throwing a dozen questions my way that you know I can’t answer, is that ‘just talking?’”

“How am I supposed to know what you can and can’t answer?”

“Because it’s obvious! How the hell am I supposed to be able to diagnose a scaphoid fracture if I barely know where the scaphoid is?” 

“You passed renal!” Bakugo says, like it means something.

“Like that changes the fact I’m flunking a class with a built- in ‘cheat sheet,’ as you so deftly put it.”

“Which is why I’m telling you to meet me in the dry lab tomorrow, so I can show you how to not flunk.”

The tears are hot at the corners of your eyes. “Like I said before, you’re an asshole.” 

“That’s right, he shouts, “I’m an asshole! The sky is blue! But sometimes, just sometimes, I don’t mean to be one. It just happens. I say the first thing that pops into my head because the alternative is sitting there agonizing over all the ways I should be saying things. Everyone says ‘think before you speak’ like that’s supposed to fix everything. Well that’s great until you think yourself into a fucking hole. So instead, I say stupid asshole-ish things then chase classmates into an elevator to try and make up for it after the fact.”

The air is heavy with the weight of too many uncomfortable truths. You’re both breathing heavy—him from his rant, you from trying to hold back the tears threatening to spill out. 

You will not cry in front of Katsuki Bakugo. It’s a vow you never thought you had to make up until this very moment. 

“Are you coming tomorrow or not?” He asks. The elevator doors open, and when you make no move to scurry out, he reaches back and presses another button. The floor lurches upward as you begin your ascent.

“What if it isn’t enough?” You say, just barely.

“What do you mean?”

“What if studying with you isn’t enough?” Your words are clipped, full of the emotion you refuse to express otherwise. “What if I show up and put in the work and I still suck at all of this.”

Bakugo shakes his head. “Why are you worrying about that now? Just deal with what’s in front of you.”

“Because what’s even the point of trying if it’s all gonna go to hell anyway? If I’m just wasting my tuition trying to do something I’m not able to do?”

He sighs, scratching at the back of his head. “Listen, I help you out, but I can’t fix that.”

“Fix what?” 

“That.” He gestures absently towards you. “The self-pitying bullshit.”

Despite yourself, you laugh. “Well, fuck me I guess.”

“I—you just—goddammit.”  Bakugo shuts his eyes tight and groans long and deep. “How the hell am I supposed to say it without pissing you off. I just told you about how I’m no good at this.

You open your mouth to retort, but he continues before you can.

“You were probably told all about how smart you were growing up, right? How special you were? Big fish in a little pond. Then you get into medical school and suddenly you’re surrounded by hundreds of special people just like you. And somehow their talent makes yours feel a lot less real. The first time you actually have to struggle for something, you find yourself wondering if you were even smart in the first place—if you coming here wasn’t one big accident.” He pauses, half his mouth tilts upward into a knowing sort of smile. “That’s how it was for me, at least. I swear, every other day I get this feeling at the back of my neck like someone is just waiting for me to mess up so they can tell me to pack my bags.”

He looks your way and scoffs. “Well, try not to act so surprised.” 

It’s then that you realize your eyes must be the size of dinner plates.

“You hide it well.” You say softly.

“Do I really? Eijiro says I’m like one of those chihuahuas that compensates for his size by acting like the biggest thing in the room.”

“I mean, I’d call it a Napoleon complex, but I think something about the chihuahua fits better.”

“Either way,” he says, “you’re in a rut now. You’ve had to struggle at school for the first time in your life and now you have to deal with all the insecurity it entails. I’m not gonna promise you that if you study my way you’re gonna pass. I’m also not gonna lie and tell you that once you’re through MSK, it’ll all get better. It probably won’t. You’ll keep struggling and feeling stupid, and everyone has their own way of dealing. You’ve gotta find your own reason for pushing through despite it all.” He presses a finger into the left side of your chest as if to emphasize his point. “If it’s that you wanna graduate to be a badass physician, fine. You wanna do it to learn as much as you can, regardless of the grade? Great. Wanna do it just so those idiots back home have to look you in the eyes and call you ‘doctor?’” He grins wide and moves his hand so it rests on your shoulder. “I’d say that’s the best reason there is. But nobody in this field is gonna take the time to tell you how special you are and why you should push through. You’ve got to do it for yourself.”

And that’s it. For some reason that stupid speech, given in an elevator that smells a little like weed soaked in gasoline is what sets you off. What lets loose the insecurities you’ve been clinging to since first-year. You start blubbering like a baby and Bakugo, the six-foot-something grown man that he is, looks absolutely horrified at the fact. He squeezes your shoulder once, a caricature of comfort. Then he thinks better of it and pulls you into something vaguely resembling a hug. His back is rigid and his shoulders raised practically to his ears, but by god, he’s trying if the hand patting at your back every couple seconds or so is any indication. 

It’s after a long moment of this (and another confused student peering into the elevator then making the wise decision to wait for the next) that you finally speak.

“It’s just so much sometimes.” You say, giving voice to the thoughts you’ve held for so long. “You have to be practically superhuman to balance everything we do—studying, sleeping, eating, breathing.”

“How do you eat an elephant?” Bakugo asks in the quiet that follows.

You pull back quickly to cast him a confused look, “Wait, why are we eating elephants now?”

“Because that’s the way the saying goes, I don’t know.” He gives you one more pat on the back. “Anyway, how do you eat an elephant?”

“Aren’t they endangered—.”

“One bite at a time.” 

You stare at him. Bakugo stares back. Then he throws his head back and groans, long and loud. “God, now it sounds a lot dumber to say out loud. Why do you have to ask stupid questions like that and ruin everything?”

“There are no stupid questions, Bakugo.”

“Yeah, well I disagree.”

“And that’s why you’re going into general surgery.” You punctuate the statement with a quick tap of your finger against his nose.

He swats away your hand and jerks back from you like he’s been shot. “Did Eijiro tell you?”

Despite your goopy eyes and still-snotty nose, you throw back your head and laugh. “Dude, it’s obvious.”

“Just like it’s obvious you’re doing internal medicine?” He says it with a scowl, like it’s supposed to be an insult. One you can’t take seriously given that’s like saying ‘wow, I can’t believe you’re only interested in being a rocket scientist.’ Which only leaves you laughing all that much more.

“How’d you figure?” You ask, playing along.

“Ignoring the fact that you suck at basic anatomy?”

“Yeah? Well check out this metatarsal.” You flip the bird.

Something in Bakugo’s face changes then. He’s smiling, but it’s nothing like Kirishima’s cheery grin. In a practiced move, he thrusts both middle fingers out towards you. He uses one to point at the lower part of the other, right where it joins with his palm. “Metacarpal,” he points to the joint just above it, “and phalanges.” The words are arrogance and acid swirled together. His stare is no better. “Unless you’ve got feet attached to your wrists, that is.”

You knew that. Shit, mega-shit, proving-his-point-shit. That was the easiest crap in the world and you knew that. But in your rush to be a smartass, you’d made a dumbass of yourself. You rush towards the elevator door, poking hurriedly at the ‘open the door nownownow’ button. You don’t care if you’re between floors. You don’t care if that’s not how elevators work. You want to throw yourself into the elevator shaft abyss now, please and thank you.

“So,” Bakugo, that super-mega-awful human that he is drawls as he leans a shoulder against the wall opposite to you, “what we can finally agree on the fact that you’re missing so much of the fundamentals that it’ll be useless to try and drill pathology into you.” 

You can’t even look at him. If you do, you will smack the ever-loving-shit out of that self-righteous mouth of his. 

“We’ve gotta start from the ground up. And that means I better see you in the dry lab,” He leans in and, close enough that he must not fear the consequences of your rage, “starting tomorrow.”

The door opens. You sprint out onto the sixth floor of the library like some crazed animal, ignoring the looks of utter bewilderment from the other students on the floor.

Even so, you know. God, you know you have to show up.

~~~~~

And that brings you to your current predicament on Saturday, 9AM, in a near-abandoned campus classroom.

With Katsuki Bakugo in his signature back tee and gold chain blocking your only exit, a dismembered anatomical arm slung across his shoulder.

You can practically smell the danger in the situation, especially when he bares his teeth like some kind predator.

“What, were you expecting someone else? Kirishima has lacrosse, so he’s not coming to save you anytime soon.” His grin widens, cruel. “Are you ready to learn?”

And just like that, you begin to regret every life decision you’ve made up to this point. But hey, at least it’ll be worth it to not fail MSK, right?

Right?

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Hi author-san, can I request ror gods reaction when they saw reader doing her school works just a while ago, and then later on they noticed reader was fast asleep on their shoulder. The gods are poseidon, hades, thor, loki, odin, heracles, hermes, buddha. And also can you add apollo if you cant its okay.

-It was the week before finals and you were fried, you’re pretty sure you were half coffee at this point, having ingested so many just so you can stay awake.

-You haven’t slept in what felt like days, your body was screaming for a break, but you had planned on sleeping for a whole week straight once your finals were done, you were so close you could taste it!

-Your family was supportive, knowing how important this was to you, but at the same time they couldn’t help but worry about you, mainly your physical and mental health.

-To remedy this, you all came to a compromise, you would take regular breaks, and they would take turns sitting with you and make sure you stayed awake and periodically feed you.

-You relaxed only a bit, holding your chem biology book in your lap, leaning against (God), reading quietly, occasionally highlighting a word or tagging a page to review again, but otherwise you were quiet and (God) was reading the newspaper.

-He turned the page and felt your head drop against his arm as you sagged lightly and he glanced down before doing a double-take, seeing you fast asleep.

-He smiled softly before grabbing his phone, setting a timer for a half an hour, knowing that you needed a break. He leaned his head down on yours, whispering softly, “I’m so proud of you.”

            -Hades, Hermes, and Buddha

-Hesitated for a few moments, he knew you wouldn’t want to take a break right now, but at the same time he could see how tired you were, knowing you needed the break. After flip flopping for a few moments, he decided to let you sleep, just for a bit, fifteen minutes or so.

            -Hercules and Thor

-Knew you were going to be upset with him, but dammit you needed a break longer than an hour. Was as quiet as possible and helped you lay down so your head was on his thigh before pulling a blanket over you. He silently guarded you for the next four hours, letting you sleep quietly. When you woke up, he was quick to offer you your favorite drink and pastry from your favorite café, having gotten someone else to go and get it, appeasing you instantly, and you had to admit that you did feel a bit better afterwards.

-Poseidon, Loki and Odin

[plantingatree]

Hi do you have any tips for year 12s studying a level biology and chemistry??

Or what you wished you did before your as exams or mocks??

hii!! i hope your a levels are going well so far!!

the first thing i’d say is remember that a levels are HARD. especially biology (i don’t do chem unfortunately). i think the biggest thing to tackle is the heaviness of the content for biology. my biggest tip is to make all your revision resources at a very good quality throughout the entire year. if you haven’t started yet, deffo start now. there is a LOT of content so id recommend downloading anki. it’s a computer software app which reschedules your flashcards for you. it’s important to keep up with ‘due’ reviews to maximise anki’s help in spaced repetition. if you don’t, it’ll build up quick and you’ll forget everything. i can’t explain enough how important it is to go over old content because you’ll get to the end of year 12 and have this absolute mass of information to recall.

make flashcards packs based on the specification points. i’ll show you my anki to demonstrate:

(this is the appstore app btw, u don’t need it you can use the free computer version or website version)

obviously you can make them however you want to, it’s just helpful organisation wise. i’m not sure how much content you have to remember for chem but it’s probably helpful for chemistry, too.

second is to make sure you take advantage of the topic tests your school gives you. it doesn’t count towards your final grade in quantitative way but it does with giving you an idea on where you need to work on, exam technique, and adding anything to your flashcards to make them more mark scheme specific. i can’t explain how much i thank my year 12 self for doing it. you’ll thank yourself too, trust me!!

if your exam board is AQA i really really recommend buying pre-made notes by biologywitholivia. they’re quite expensive but honestly it’s worth it because she’s the only person i’ve found who covers everything concisely and it’s every markscheme specific to AQA. also if you haven’t made flashcards yet it’s very easy to just copy and paste the content onto flashcards (but that will make them harder to remember).

and of course USE THE PAST PAPERS. learning content is important but so is past papers (probs something you’ve heard a million times!)

finally, don’t get stressed out or give up. you can do it i absolutely believe in you!!! i hope this was helpful 😊

also here’s the link to notes with olivia if you do AQA

[jadecitrusmint]

Hello, I'm starting college soon, majoring in statistics. When I mention my course, people often warn me about its difficulty and hope I'll manage to stay through all years. Could you provide tips on how to persevere until the fourth year? And I want to advance study. What should I focus on studying? Also, would you recommend a laptop or a tablet/ ipad?

Thank youu :3

Hello! I got a lot of the same comments when I picked stats as my major🥲

Two things are key to persevering through a stats degree, (1) not beating yourself up when you fail and (2) reaching out for help when you don’t understand something. Stats has a lot of disconnected but continually reappearing topics and you’ll get confused and fail sometime- that is perfectly okay and normal, you just have to learn to let it roll off your back and do better next time! This is when my second tip of reaching out to professors, other students, or uni resources come in. Your professors want you to understand the content (or at the very least are paid to ensure you understand the content)- go to them when you don’t understand something! There is no shame in asking for help.

All calc, especially your multivariate calc, is very relevant to statistics, so I’d brush up on your calc 1 and calc 2 skills if it’s been a while since you’ve used them. Additionally, I’d review probability rules, and basic things like finding means and variances. Later on, you’ll cover “distributional results.” When you get to these, absolutely keep a running list of these results that you frequently look over!

For narrowing down your interests, I’d recommend exploring finance courses, science courses (chem/bio), and coding courses. Statistics is a super versatile degree and there’s a lot of freedom and flexibility!

I would 100% recommend a laptop for two reasons. As a statistics student, you will likely be coding a good bit; mostly in R, but probably in SAS, python, and possibly matlab as well. As far as I’m aware, there’s no software that allows you to adequately code in these languages on a tablet/iPad. Secondly, hand writing on paper is much better for retention. I have an iPad as well, but I only really use it for homework to save the trees from all my scratch work😅 you could accomplish the same effect with a white board and marker. All of my notes (and even sometimes my homework and practice problems) are on paper since you retain the info significantly better. My friends in the stats major who also have an iPad or tablet for notes have also switched to using pen and paper over the years to help with retention since there’s a lot you need to have memorized.

Feel free to reach out with any more questions, and good luck! You’ve got this ~~

[queer-reader-07]

7, 9, 33 and 37 for the ask game 💕

hi J!! thanks for the asks 💕

7. what was your favorite thing as a kid?

animal facts! specifically facts about animals that only live in one place in the world, like how lemurs only live in madagascar

9. whats your favorite love language?

probably acts of service. also words of affirmation but i'm dog shit at accepting compliments

33. whats your favorite current class?

cheating and saying organic chem even though i don't have it this quarter! i've been reviewing & studying ahead for ochem 2 purely because i can and i enjoy it even though i'm not continuing the series until winter (i'm a nerd like that!)

37. where do you go to be alone?

my car. i'll just drive around and blast music in my car. if i need to scream i'll get on the freeway and drive a couple exits down. sometimes i'll go to the park and just sit by the water.

send me asks!!

[orion-starbelt]

I was asked recently to give some advice on what books a library that was being started should try to get. Here’s what I said,

“1. Y.A. Novels (any genre is really fine, this is the main fiction part that I’d focus on)

2. Educational (any nonfiction that is about learning something, either physical or theoretical) - I’d say this category would also be the basic summary of classes type stuff. Like crash course but book form. A basic review of bio, chem, algebra, geometry, English, stats, etc, etc. For those who need a refresh, a reference, or cannot afford or otherwise cannot go to school)

3. Historical (especially different accounts of the same event from different perspectives, even better if it’s not like the victors or if it’s marginalized people. Evidence based historical books like diaries would be amazing as well. Books that are based on historical events are nice because they can help people understand but they tend to gloss over the actual facts sometimes)

4. Picture books (kids books can be helpful, just make sure they’re diverse, or just other basic diagram books for things like plants or similar. Not everybody can read or has the eyesight to be able to read text)

5. Language (a variety of beginner language books or resources -flashcards, dvds, cds, etc-. Focus most on English and Spanish but if you can get ASL, French, German, Japanese, Mandarin, etc. Focus on the most popular languages than branch out. Books on Morse code, asl, or other non verbal languages would be amazing as people don’t need to be able to speak to communicate

6. Home steading ( how to live off the grid type books basically. Like how to cook, sew/knit, garden, can foods, clean, gather wild stuff, basic safety, how to make dirty water clean, how to make sure food is safe to eat, basic survival skills, basic first aid, basic wilderness skills, knots, etc. Whatever you might think you would need if you were in a zombie apocalypse)

7. Don’t forget reference type books like dictionaries and thesaurus’s.”

I believe that information should be freely available. Banned books are an assault against knowledge itself and all the centuries we’ve spent learning about everything around us. If knowledge is power, than they are keeping us powerless.

My hope is that for those who have the ability to do something but who don’t have the resources available to afford an education, to get a job, to learn a language, to survive; are able to learn. To have a foundation to build off of in their attempt at survival and at living in this capitalist hellscape.

Knowledge should never be hidden. Donate old items. Thrift as much as you can. Volunteer. Recycle. Never stop working towards bettering your knowledge and yourself.

[curbie]

First week of classes! I honestly haven’t come up with a strategy for studying/going over material beforehand, so I’m kinda testing things out to see what works best for me.

Right now, I’m just highlighting things in the books, putting them into flashcards (already so i dont have to worry about that come exam time), and repeat. However, one of my professors took a WHILE to make the textbook public, so I’m kinda behind in that department. But seriously, professors that make a part of the exam stuff they exclusively say during lectures need to be shot-putted to the sun. Right now, I have only three classes I’m doing this strategy for: Abnormal Psychology, Cognitive Processes, and Research Methods.

To be honest, I completely forgot about Research Methods until this weekend. Probably because it’s such a BORING class, I don’t really plan on going into research (despite me being an RA in like two labs) because I hate deciding which tests to use for which study. To me, it’s kinda subjective sometimes.

Also, is it just me, or is taking notes during class such a huge waste of time? I think the best method is sitting there, actually paying attention to the information being said in class so that when I go and review later, I remember which parts are important. It makes skimming through past lectures much easier in my opinion. When i take notes, I am NEVER looking at them again. It makes no sense to, why would I trust myself to pay attention to every single word the professor says while I’m busy writing? If I do take notes, I want them to be neat, and usually it would just be extra annotations to the already-given powerpoint slides. The only ever exception was when i took Gen Chem 2, where there was a big thing of notes we filled out as the lecture went on. It was pretty nice, but only helpful for math-based classes.

I don’t have any cute aesthetic pictures right now, but I’m thinking of some cute spots on campus that have some nice views. Stay tuned.

Song of the day - Boute by Au

[liacademia]

december diaries : day 2

soo i was a lot slower today, i was taking it easy for no damn reason smh?? but alrighty.

for tomorrow though i have a live lecture on vector algebra & an assigned lectures for vector 3-D. i also need to review a 148 pages worth of ppt for block chem p-block fml for physics though i'd be revising modern physics as a whole, which comprises like 3 small chapters? so that's that, not in the mood for to-do's as i had expected, so here we go.

i kinda miss school lately, ngl it was fun, to be there, act silly with a fuckton of more silly people, despite all the stress and work load, school was fun :(

[11queensupreme11]

i was really afraid that my testing administrators were assholes 💀 since i read those reddit horror stories where someone had to take the mcat in just a tank top with the AC blasting

AAMC does A LOT to prevent cheating though. we needed to scan our palms so they can use our veins as identifiers. to make sure we’re not imposters. since i have long hair they made me lift and shake it, to make sure i wasn’t hiding anything. AND! i heard they make ppl weigh their glasses each time they exit and enter the room (i didn’t see it at my center, but if you have an asshole TA, that might happen)

but mine were chill and let me cross my legs on the chair :D

i joined a prep course since i went a non traditional route (non-stem major) and i needed a bit of help with chem/phys. my knowledge of the sciences is pretty broad, so if i studied “everything”, it would have been a waste of my time. the courses provided teachers and feedback/ someone to ask questions/ 10(?) practice FL exams

and buying the books is good! since they will provide a lot of the information i received in the classes. youtube videos and khan academy are super helpful as well!!

start studying ahead of time if you can! i know school and work make it hard, but it’s helpful to practice CARS everyday/ content review. do as many FLs as you can too! that helps build your stamina since it’s like 7ish hrs. if you don’t join a prep course, a lot of prep sites will provide 1 free FL exam!

i hope this sort of helped!! there are some really good reddit threads that go into more detail about what test day is like/ how ppl study/ etc

THANK YOU FOR THIS!!!

also, when do people usually start taking the mcat? do they do it on their last semester before they graduate??? two semesters before? a whole year before???

i don't know when i should take mine, but i know that physics(?) and chem are on it, so i wanna wait till AFTER i actually take those classes cuz those are the only subjects i haven't taken so far

[natscbi]

<romanticising the least romantic uni work i have ever done in my life>

09.10.23 - 27/100 dop

lectures

reviewed lectures

…part of a theoretical chem question

duolingo korean review

does duolingo just.. give out 3-day free trials of premium?? i’ve had this twice now what’s going on. i’m not complaining btw

apart from still being somewhat ill it’s going well…

10.10.23 - 28/100 dop

lectures

reviewed lectures

duolingo

more theor. chem questions. lord help me

not exciting :(

11.10.23 - 29/100 dop

lectures and review

these FUKCING tchem questions. i cannot keep spending this much time on like one question for the week i have OTHER sets of questions to do i am screaming crying throwing up at all the work i have to do

one (1) greek lesson on duolingo

had to go shopping

pondered existence

(my time management is perfect what are you talking about)

also my immune system needs to get its act together i am a third year i don’t have time for lingering illness. i want that virus ERADICATED

[mportal]

I uh…accidentally went wild on this one 😅 Having worked in the field, I can say most of this would never happen (but unfortunately not the costs info, depending on the drug), but it was fun to write anyway

Once upon a time, you wanted to be a research scientist. Not a doctor, as your parents had hoped (a brief stint as a junior EMT had helped you with that decision), but something medical where you might be able to help somebody. You were only two years in when everything fell apart. Cancer took your father early, and stress made a shell out of your mother, finally taking her a year later. Student loans kept you in school, but they weren’t a joke, and suddenly all that mattered was graduating on time with a workable degree that would get you a salary immediately. Failing Orgo 1 a second time made it all the more urgent.

The communications school was always accepting students from other majors. They even accepted all your current class credits.

It was an easy call.

Several years later found you languishing at a desk job. With your (limited) chem background and handful of summer internships, the pharmaceutical advertising agencies had snapped you right up. It was interesting work, and it paid the bills, but there were only so many ways to market oncology drugs without getting demoralized.

Coffee in the morning and wine in the evening helped. And the bonus you got every January for growing the agency’s contract with your client certainly never hurt.

You were in the middle of trying to grow that business right now, in fact.

“How long until we get the first shots back for review?” your client asked.

You bit back the urge to snap that you were literally still at the photoshoot, weren’t you? and gave them a well-rehearsed sympathetic look instead. “I know there’s a lot of pressure for the new campaign, and we’ll get you the initial shot list as quickly as we can. I can’t know for sure until the creative team takes a look, but probably Wednesday.”

“Wednesday!” Your client took a breath and ran a nervous hand through their hair. “Wednesday. Okay.” They took another breath. You could see how hard they were trying to control themselves. Seemed like the feedback your boss gave on their temper during last month’s review was having an effect. You wondered how long that effect would last. “Okay. But if you have a working shot list earlier than that and want to send it my way, just between the two of us, I’d be happy to give early input.”

You smiled easily and unfeelingly. “Of course. If I get a working list,” which you would, “then I’ll pass it over,” which you wouldn’t. Well, maybe a few photos that you knew would be favorites. But the timeline was already crunched and the creatives didn’t need to worry about an extra round of feedback to incorporate.

You looked at the executive team posing in front of the company logo and bitterly wondered what they were expected to turn around by Wednesday.

“You’re still planning to take some shots in the lab, right?” your client probed, cutting in on the thought.

“I saw you approved the budget. Did you also get the permissions?” You looked at your client when they didn’t answer right away. They were on their phone, probably checking to see if the lab manager had responded. Seemed a bit late to be doing that, but they controlled the money so you didn’t comment.

Your client looked up at the ceiling and sighed. No permissions, then. Cool.

“Look, forget about the permissions,” they eventually said. “The revenue tied to our campaign last year made this year’s research budget, so I’m giving you my permission.” You were pretty sure it didn’t work that way but, well…small pharma companies worked fast and loose compared to more established ones, and it would be on your client if anything went wrong. Plus, you really didn’t want to sacrifice this year’s bonus.

“Can you send that to me in writing?”

Your client was tap-tapping away on their phone even as you spoke. Yours buzzed in your back pocket. New email.

“Done,” your client said.

They led you up three flights of stairs to a glass cube containing more glass cubes all sitting in the middle of an empty floor. It was very futuristic looking, like a lab built expressly to impress investors and management.

The photographer ate it up, and you had to admit the first shots through the outer walls were already looking promising. And the next set of shots from inside the lab were even better. So what if you had to wear some protective suit that wrinkled your new blazer all while suffering frustrated side glances from the bothered scientists? You’d be out of there soon enough.

“How about a shot of the new manufacturing array?” your client asked, pointing through a locked door. “It’s in the inner room.”

You tried to peer into the room but strange disks embedded in the semi-transparent walls obstructed your view. Even so, you could make out the vague silhouettes of researchers bent over their tables and the slow moving mechanical arms they controlled, but could see nothing of what they were manipulating. “Can we really go in there?”

“Absolutely. The new corporate campaign needs to be striking. Completely different. We need shots of the array.”

You shrugged. “Sounds good.”

But it wasn’t good. You had been in the industry long enough to know that, though it was easy to ignore when the reward was high. And when your client was so practiced at making the alternative unpleasant. Purposely forgetting everything outside driving results for analytics reports and budget meetings had become second nature. It was survival. But reality didn’t forget. Diseases didn’t grow content. Nature, true nature, didn’t discriminate. A body was a body was a body.

The mistake was a simple one. A hand on the wrong surface at the wrong time, a delayed reaction, a broken vial. Easily understood, and unforgiving all the same.

You woke up in the hospital. First, the nurses and doctors came to talk to you. Then some executives came. Then the lawyers.

Your photographer was dead. Your client was dead. The scientists who had been working the inner room were all dead.

But you? You were healthier than you ever had been. Supposedly because of your smaller frame or something to do with genetics—or was it a combination of the two? They weren’t sure—the concentration of the aerosolized therapy was sufficient to overpower your body’s immediate immune response.

Your earring holes had healed. You had grown back your appendix. The scars on your knees from years of soccer were gone.

They wanted you to sign a contract and promised to keep the police out of it. After all, the deaths had already been ruled accidental and the company executives had been advised on a settlement cost, so no one had to be blamed. It could be written off as an unfortunate tragedy and nice company tax break... provided you cooperated. And there would be benefits if you did, of course.

You had a bachelors degree, a used Honda civic, a rented 2nd story one-bedroom, and a handful of plants. You had no close family left, no kids. No pets since Marshmallow, and that was back in high school. Your boss would wonder what exactly had happened, but that was easily handled. And maybe the guy you had been seeing would, too, though the way you left it after last week’s disaster of a date, maybe he wouldn’t.

There was no one to fight for you. And, honestly, not much to fight for.

It was an easy call.

Cooperation turned out to mean moving into a very nice apartment in their on-site facility, maxing out your disability time, and then quitting your job, all under the advice of the company lawyers. You went in for weekly blood tests and tissue samples, and took whatever pills they handed you, but you received a nice monthly stipend and endless amenities. It was all worth it, according to the executives. A very neat and mutually beneficial contract, as stated by the lawyers.

During your weekly exams, you tried to be unaffected by the looks the treatment team shot at you. They hadn’t worked closely with any of the researchers that died, but they still seemed to have opinions about it. In your free time, you worked hard to ignore what felt like constant buzzing under your skin and slept fitfully in an unfamiliar bed with overly starched sheets. You didn’t have to worry about accidentally cutting yourself with kitchen knives or careless burns from the curling iron anymore, but you cooked less and less and never dressed up. There didn’t seem to be any point.

Within a few months, their research had been launched forward by a decade. Before you had even adjusted to your new reality (unending guilt and isolation, no longer needing to wear contacts) they were already moving the therapy into clinical trials.

The first time you met one of the patients, a trial participant, willing and desperate and considering themselves so lucky, you felt like maybe there was a point after all.

She wasn’t much older than you, but she had a family and she wanted to live. And when she learned about your role in the study, she hugged you and thanked you profusely. Her gratitude felt unearned. And it didn’t seem right that you would live, and she wouldn’t, unless she received the treatment (“Your treatment,” she had called it). If she received it. And if it took, rewiring her immune cells and fibroblasts and everything else just like the researchers (who were left) thought it would. And it did take, for the participants who ended up in the right trial arm. It took quickly, too, within days.

But not for that young mother, apparently. Two weeks later, she was still coming in for tests. And she didn’t improve. And, eventually, she was admitted.

You spent more time together after that. As you got to know each other, you worked up the courage to ask if she had been in the control arm. She gave you a weak smile.

“Nope. I was one of the lucky ones. Just not lucky enough. I’m too far along for the treatment to work, they think. If it were years down the line, after a few more trials, when they get the concentration right, closer to how it is in your body…then maybe it would work for someone like me. But who has that kind of time?” She laughed. You didn’t.

“It’s ok,” she said, comforting you and wasn’t that strange. “Really. Maybe just by being in the study, I’ll have helped them make a better treatment. Maybe in a few years, it really will work for someone like me, because of me. That’s not so bad.”

But it felt hollow. It felt like somewhere someone had messed up, switched your fates. If only you could have given her your healing ability. If only they could match the concentration of the treatment to what was in your own body. The thought gnawed at you.

It wasn’t an easy call. It felt right, though. Or, you thought it did, at the time.

It had been years since your EMT days, but you started to pay attention during your usual blood draws. You asked more questions. You watched when they swapped out your friend’s empty blood bags, trying to fight the ongoing bleeds as her body slowly shut down.

You waited until you felt something close to confident, and slipped in at midnight. Nursing staff was minimal. The physicians were on home call, disturbed only in emergencies. You had your own pass. You were there all the time, after all. You were under contract.

Your friend’s room was dark but she knew it was you immediately. “I can’t,” she said, when you made the offer. “Okay, I can,” she relented, when you reminded her that her daughter’s graduation was coming up.

The needles slid in with almost no resistance. Within minutes, it was all set up. Your blood came flooding out, and her body eagerly accepted it. It was fine. It was right, you told yourself. And not a bad way to go, if that’s what it came to.

You woke up in the hospital. First, the nurses and doctors came to talk to you. Then some executives. Then the lawyers.

She was dead. You weren’t. After almost bleeding out, your body repaired the needle hole and replenished itself. Your friend’s body went wild in its immune response, something the doctors called a cytokine storm. Your healing factor hadn’t been enough, not at the concentration they found in her body, not at your relative sizes.

The idea had some merit, but she was going to die anyway, your usual doctor whispered to you as you sobbed into a scratchy hospital pillow. But it had been recklessly done. Unthinking, unstudied. He looked at you hard as your breath came out ragged. Maybe if she had been smaller…he trailed off, finished checking your vitals, and left. When you finally gathered the strength to sit up, you saw he had left a jello cup on your bedside table. It was red. You liked red.

When the lawyers came back the next morning it was with the executives. That was new. It turned out to also be bad. Someone had talked to the media and you were going to be transferred into government care. What did that mean? No one knew, but it was all over the news. The truth about the freak accident at the lab, the freak lady who wouldn’t die, the company executives’ freakish decision to conceal deaths and progress and money.

Your doctor came by again later to check on you. He left another jello cup.

They’re sending you to the military. Get out, read a piece of paper folded beneath it.

Midnight, and the hospital was a skeleton crew. You didn’t have a pass anymore but it didn’t matter. You opened your room window. Below you was the back alley between the old main building you were in and the newer outpatient center. It was dark in the space between, secluded, with only a dumpster. You were pretty sure you could line yourself up right.

Even if you couldn’t, it was still an easy call.

You jumped.

You are a supervillain with healing powers. The only reason you are labelled a supervillain because the American healthcare system is intimidated by you.

[marocoquette]

Week in my Life: 1/6-1/10

1/10/25- End of the first week of the semester (★☆☆☆☆):

.*•.¸♡ AP Environmental Science .*•.¸♡

Expeditiously worked on IPM poster project with partners, finished it in class (I did 3 people's work in a group of 4 people!)

Exhausted, dead on my feet by the time I went to Chem (See: Had no caffeine in me, 5 hours of sleep)

Next class we present our poster. Can't wait, I write with a completely straight face.

.*•.¸♡ IB Chem II HL .*•.¸♡

Finished the Kerboodle review assignment

Did the mini-lab, my table got jokingly reprimanded for lab safety violations by our TA LMAO. Got seriously scolded for not finishing my lab sheet meanwhile my group members had much less work than me, but whatever.

Class got admonished for packing up early and going on our phones (I packed up early and was on my phone. I was devastated. Please never yell at me.)

We have an exam on Tuesday. I want to kms (this is a joke)

.*•.¸♡ Theory of Knowledge I .*•.¸♡

Speedily assembled my college and career information on this huge poster

Haven't finished and we present on Tuesday. i am so cooked.

.*•.¸♡ Global Politics I HL .*•.¸♡

Crossover with the Model United Nations class, received my country assignment for this debate cycle on the topic of education and development

Also basically a free period

Did research on the colleges I put on my college list and took some notes on the programs of study they offer and the requirements for admission

We have position papers due on Tuesday. My teacher forgot to post the background guide and the country assignments so I barely finished the background guide. I'm cooked.

Overall: Exhausting. I regret picking a second science class as my elective. I have two exams next week, two presentations, a debate I need to prepare for, an essay I need to write, and it is only the first week back. I forgot my hate-love relationship with IBDP over break. Well. I'm not forgetting now. To all the IB Year One students, the MYP kids, and anyone else pursuing advanced studies just try to be present and remember is only gets worse ❤︎

I definitely should have done homework today after school. I did not do homework today after school. It is only the first week back.

My chemistry teacher, as he admonished us, said something that sticks to my memory. His exact words: "This is chemistry. This is IB. We have no time. Don't pack your shit away until I tell you to."

See you all next week :')

[before-it-felt-like-a-sin]

hey raeeeee!!

interview went well i think?? had to do a chem exam straight after tho so I’m still recovering from that horrific experience

important question: where are you watching s3 of sex lives of college girls, i literally can’t find it anywhere to stream???

anyway just like to say i’d love to see all your book reviews as well, i low-key need good recommendations

-lucy dacus anon💕💕

Omg yay!!! I'm so sorry about the chem exam after I fear I would've gone insane. But I'm glad it went well for you!!!

I watch everything on showboxmovies.net. Episodes don't upload immediately (for obvious reasons) but it doesn't take too long.

I'm really tempted to do book reviews, I have a few on Goodreads right now that I'll probably cross over, but they're pretty lackluster in terms of how in-depth I go. Also if I'm doing reviews it'll make me read more again, and I lowkey need that to happen.

[ardbar]

yall can ignore this i just need to actually contextualize all of the work i have to do. By that I mean I'm going to speak to myself like an idiot with no time management skills getting a lecture form a parent.

Okay so you have math homework due on wednesday and friday but they're probably only like 3 questions and its just hypothesis testing and you're great at that statistics is easy. You should probably do both of those tomorrow between comparative politics and English. Wait bro don't forget the math quiz next Wednesday

You also have a decent amount of philosophy work to do. For instance a reading and homework on Thursday. While not necessarily due this week you should also do the homework that is due next Tuesday and thursday to get a head start. You also have the philosophy project but you are going to do it throughout next week because that's how its built. Dont you dare wait until friday to finish it we don't have the time for that shit.

There is also Poli sci shit you have to do. While there is no reading due next week there is a project. While it's technically due decemember first we both know you aren't going to actually get any work done over thanksgiving break and I'm not letting us spend the little time we get to see our family and friends researching the history of china and vietnam we aren't doing that shit. Also its a group project and you don't want to seem lazy now do you? Great so you'll get the project done by next friday.

Now we come to the real bitch of it all. We have a paper due next friday and you haven't even started. I don't care how quickly you can write an essay or how much bullshit you can do to bend any number of souces to fit your point we are going to actually spread out the work load. WE have managed to get a perfect score on literally every assignment so far you aren't going to ruin that by being lazy and not wanting to work. You went on a heated rant on one of the assignments complaining about how peer review is shit, remember that? The prossfor commented back that you might just be a better writer that most of the kids in the class. Do you want to prove him wrong? Do you want to seem like all of your prior performances were just flukes? If you fail this know what else do you have?

Every single one of your motivations and goals have been someone elses. You have no dreams or big overarching goals that you picked yourself. But for once in your god forsaken life you took initiative and decided something for yourself. You moved across the country because you wanted something new, right? What will people think if you can't deliver good results? What will you think about yourself? You don't want to be someone who's all talk, someone who failed when they tried to spread their wings.

Look I get it having so much to do in this short of time feels like a lot and is overwhelming I'm literally you I don't want to do any of it either. But we have to. Not only is education a privilege and should be treated as such there are people with a lot harder majors then us who have to do way more work. You don't want to be a fucking chem major do you? Yeah i didn't think so. We should be happy that we have to do essays and research projects instead of stupid labs. Remember struggling with those bio tests? Remember the 70 on the chem final? That could literally be our life if we went into stem be happy that we are a liberal arts kid.

The best I can offer you is we do no more work today and get started on all of it tomorrow. IF and only if we promise to actually use our time effectively, no wasting time on tiktok. I know our ADHD makes it difficult to work but imagine how nice it will be when all of the work is over. We'll have so much time to waste by doom scrolling on tiktok.

P.S

also bro don't forget to submit the request to add the second major. I know it sounds like it will be a lot of work but it will be really cool and pretentious to say you are a political science and philosophy major. Doesn't that sound like fun? You love being a little shit who thinks they are worth a damn purely because you are decent in school, that's like your whole gimmick that and being a bitch. Also your profsor literally told you he would be your advisour if you need one, that was so nice of him. You don't want to ignore his good will now do you? Yeahhhh so get your shit together