#i did not have my calc exam yesterday it was today why am i just saying anything i’m tired !!!!!

[lanzhans]

wow i am genuinely so exhausted it’s genuinely not even funny

[simple-friend]

30 days of productivity.

PhD Edition.

Day 1 of 30 ||| January, 29th 2022.

I spent two hours looking for a calculator. After that I found one, my favorite pink calc, her batteries went missing so I bought her batteries. She did turn on but the Zero button was sick, and it appears that it did contaminate the dot button. I did a quick surgery but unfortunately, her luck depleted and now she’s dead. Well partially dead as I am looking to resuscitate her later in life and turn her into a souvenir. my mom bought it for me, It lasted all of highschool and all of uni. 

After that I studied some general electricity. Did Like 3 exercises and that's it.

Day 2 of 30 ||| January, 30th 2022.

I didn’t progress a lot, like I only did three exercises, but I understood a difficult concept today :D. I made a piece of paper where I put every misunderstood concepts or questions that I have while studying. 

I miss my old note book, it was full of unanswered questions, I don’t know where it is now, It had a smell of a new Playstation 2 CD.

Day 3 of 30 ||| January, 31th 2022.

I made a todo list, I couldn’t finish it but I did most of the work, I did 4/6 exercises on general electricity. I corrected couple flawed concepts that I took while in uni.

Day 4 of 30 ||| February 1st 2022.

I did cross the two lines of my question’s paper, I did finish the first and the second elements of my yesterday todo list, Yaaay. 

I finally understood why S=VI*, that asterisk * is the conjugate of the current. it is just a mathematical convention because otherwise it will be out of sense. 

I understood the lagging and the leading power factor which are easy concepts but my teacher gave us a wrong analogy.

tomorrow, I think I should move to electrical grids. it’s whole headache and I need to study it all.

the PhD entrance exam is nearer after every sleep I take.

that’s it. I will try to update on a daily basis. 

[snow--blanket]

good morning kisses

pairing: isaac/napoleon fandom: ikemen vampire word count: 2405 ***

“God’s breath—”

“I don’t—” Napoleon ‘the terror of France’ Bonaparte started, but cut his sentence short. “How?”

“I don’t…. know. Sodium bicarbonate was supposed to—um, make the…” Isaac struggled to word it in a way Napoleon could understand. When faced with panic and distress, his brain immediately resorted to scientific lingo like a liar did with high pitched intonations. “The black thing float.”

“I was out for an hour—”

“I know, I’m sorry—”

Napoleon walked to the fridge and tapped the sign kissed to it, as if asking for an explanation. It read: NO SCIENCE EXPERIMENTS IN THE KITCHEN.  He tapped the sign, once, twice, three times, all with increasing tempo, until the paper slid off the magnet and fell to the floor, much like Isaac’s heart did. He hated disappointing Napoleon. “What happened to our friends with benefits contract?”

Benefit was a loose term used in between them—namely, Isaac would help him with his calculus homework (trig too, if Napoleon was particularly loathsome that day) and Napoleon would help Isaac to not get bullied by Arthur and Dazai. It worked, but he really should talk to Napoleon about toning down his manly hero voice when he came to his rescue. He felt too much like a damsel in distress then. Isaac did not have a lot of pride, but he did have some of it, and he would like to keep that portion for future use, like when he corrects the barista’s spelling of his name. But he had made more trouble than benefit to Napoleon, and his face flushed as he berated himself. “I’m sorry,” Isaac said in a panic. He would play his trump card, what he called the Coward’s Calling: just beg for forgiveness until Napoleon got irritated and shoved it under the rug. It had a limited use though. If he were to use it now, he couldn’t use it for the next two or so weeks as it had a cooldown period and he needed time to gather his pride again so he could throw it away and grovel for mercy. 

“You already said that.” Drat. Napoleon often let it pass, but he supposed today’s… grievances were too big to let it slide. They both looked at the foaming pot of yesterday’s burnt curry. In Napoleon’s words, Isaac was to clean up his own mess, and he had to clean out the pot with the charred bottom without scratching it silly. You’re a genius, Napoleon told him. Figure it out.

Contrary to his expectations, Napoleon broke out in a laugh. Isaac hated it when people laughed at him—Leo’s was a condescending, older brother laugh, and he hated that. He was not a child. Arthur and Dazai’s were teasing, and he hated that too. They weren’t close friends. Strangely, his flaming cheeks were not caused by anger at Napoleon’s laughter, but rather embarrassment, for he knew that Napoleon always laughed at him like he was an idiot. Isaac truly felt like he should retreat into the cupboards as Harry did. “Are you done laughing yet?” 

“Sorry, sorry, I’m just…” Napoleon wiped a tear from his eye. “Y’know, this is why people with theoretical physics degrees still don’t have jobs. You’ve used up so much of your brain thinking about—black holes, or something—”

“The fabric of time and space,” Isaac mumbled.

“—That, yes! Proved my point! You’ve used up so much of your faculties thinking about whatever that is that you don’t know that Arthur probably mixed in citric acid into your baking powder solution to…” Napoleon gestured to the foaming pot, and it looked like a witch’s cauldron. “...cause this. This is a textbook prank, ma cher.”

He might not hate Napoleon, but he sure hated the way that epithet rolled off his tongue. It made his chest feel scratchy, for some reason. “You’ll see,” he said instead. “When this physicist figures out how to make planets habitable, I’ll give you the opportunity to eat gourmet space dust when I leave this place.” Like he said, he didn’t have a lot of pride, but he did have some of it, and he wouldn’t let Napoleon drag the name of science through the mud. Physicists weren’t largely responsible for making a planet habitable, but he hoped Napoleon wouldn’t catch on. Isaac wasn’t very good at this comeback thing. Arthur and Dazai forced him to use his wits for driving them away instead of focusing on lectures. And he couldn’t even do it well!

“Ha! I’d love to taste it.” Ugh, he hated the way Napoleon smiled when he said that, too. The itch on his chest doubled. Now he had to figure out a way to phrase the symptoms to Arthur and let himself play patient for a while. The last time he went to Arthur for a consultation, he couldn’t forget the face he made when he said “it feels like my whole skin is being flipped inside out”. Even a savant doctor can’t figure out what’s wrong with you if you don’t know how to express it.

“Step aside, genius.” Napoleon bumped Isaac out of the way with his hip, looking much like a mother who had her work cut out for her. 

“Don’t come crying when calc comes up in class,” Isaac said bitterly, and then tested the word on his tongue. “...Jock.”

Napoleon chuckled at that, and then shooed Isaac away. He felt embarrassed that he wasn’t able to clean up such a simple mess, but being called a genius—even if it was said mockingly—made his chest inflate in pride. At the very least, he would be of use when it came to academia.

***

It was raining—storming, even. Isaac’s bleary gaze wandered to the glaring neon numbers on the alarm clock. 5:34 AM. Maybe Vincent would be up at this time. He got up from his bed, rubbed his eyes awake, and walked to the kitchen to make some hot chocolate. He vaguely recalled Vincent saying he wanted to paint the sunrise, and knowing the kind of person he was, he was probably staying up until sunrise. Unlike his reputation as a “bad boy”, Theo was the earliest to sleep in, and earliest to wake. He could use more hours, but he liked to spend the early mornings to make pancakes for Vincent, especially if he was feeling anxious the night prior. 

As Isaac passed Napoleon’s door, he stopped, clasping his hands together in a prayer. May whoever who wakes him up be blessed with questions with graphs in their exam. Then he remembered Arthur, and he changed his prayer. May whoever wakes him up gets his face punched. It doesn’t even have to be by Napoleon. Anyone will do. After that, he wished some more, hoping that he was his British counterpart, and that all his coffee was third-grade and cold. When he finished praying, he headed to the communal kitchen, where he found Arthur fiddling with an empty tin of coffee. They were fresh out, it seemed. Isaac held the physical and psychological urge to fist pump the air. “Finished?” he asked, even though he knew they were, indeed, no more. God was by his side.

Arthur rattled the coffee tin, offended. The smart, clever, golden-tongued part-time mystery author and full-time medicine major was reduced to a witless man when he was caffeine deprived. It felt like the sun had died to let the moon breathe a little, except the sun was Arthur’s dreadful tongue, and Isaac wished it was eternal night. There was something that bothered him, though. “Working on a new manuscript?”

“Not today, though, shame.”

Isaac hummed, moving past Arthur to reach for the powdered chocolate malt stashed in the cabinet. “I actually read some of your novels, you know. They’re not bad.”

Arthur cocked a brow at this, leaning on one side of his body as if he was a seesaw. “Oh?”

Isaac did not have a lot of pride, but he wouldn’t lie. “Yeah. I can see why you’d want to be a doctor.” Hm. Vincent wants it with milk, if I remember correctly...

“Pray tell,” There was a Cheshire grin playing on his lips, and try as he might, he couldn’t truly wish for Napoleon to kiss those lips of him to shut him up. The thought made him feel itchy again. 

“The line of reasoning you use to explain things for your mystery novels,” he started, putting in three spoonfuls of the chocolatey goodness into the mug. Vincent’s had some dabs of yellow and blue paint on them, so it was hard to mix them up. “They’re a bit similar in how you would diagnose a patient. You take a glance at them, try to infer their history and habits, and then you would investigate further for a diagnosis. I think it’s quite…” Isaac hesitated—not because Arthur was undeserving, but it was the first time he recalled ever talking to him in this manner. “...Brilliant. You are, that is,” Isaac finished, pouring some hot water into Vincent’s mug as he stirred it. Saucer, saucer...

Was it the trick of the light? As Isaac reached for the saucers behind Arthur, he swore it  looked as if he was blushing, the light dusting of embers on his cheeks as if the light above them both were a fire. Isaac took a sip of his own mug of chocolate, peering at Arthur all the while. He breathed in, steeled himself. “As I am a scientist, allow me to hypothesize, instead of deduct.”

His flustered British counterpart seemed all too accepting of the offer. Strange. It wasn’t normal for Isaac to be the one in this position. Isaac stifled a sigh. How he wished the night would last indeed… “You usually stay up late writing for your books, but I haven’t heard you write anything for the past week when I walked by your room.”

When Arthur was silent, Isaac continued. “You only use about two spoonfuls of coffee beans when you make coffee, but even factoring the fact that Theodorus and Mozart drink coffee, the amount seems to be decreasing exponentially, instead of it’s usual rate.”

Isaac eyed the ticking clock on the wall. 5:40 AM. It was nearly sunrise, and he was sure Vincent was painting without a care in the world. “Thirdly, your clothes smell like paint sometimes.” This final proof put the fire in Arthur’s face again. Isaac offered his hand that held Vincent’s mug and saucer. “It’s almost sunrise. Go bring this to him.” 

Arthur took the mug and saucer with a dumbfounded look, and Isaac savored that look for a while, knowing it was as rare as a blue moon. Feeling awkward, Isaac took his mug of hot chocolate, and walked away. He stopped at the entrance of the kitchen and glanced at the witless, silent mystery writer. Take that. Maybe he was good at this comeback thing after all. “Well… just pretend you didn’t see me, I guess.” He wasn’t good at lying, so feigning ignorance was the best he could do. 

When he turned, Arthur’s voice stopped him. “I have a deduction.”

Isaac turned his heel, looking at Arthur, and took a sip of his hot chocolate. It had gotten slightly cold. “Yeah?”

“You’re in love with Napoleon.”

“Wha—” He choked, searching for the right words. What the hell was he supposed to say to that? He didn’t even allow him the slightest shred of decency or subtlety! After he was so gracious in merely insinuating his crush towards Vincent! “You—”

Arthur grinned his cocksure smile, and Isaac truly wished Theodorus was here to punch him in the face. This blathering, insensitive, witless, shameless, atrocious man! “Your face tells it all. You should never become a detective.”

“I don’t—” Isaac said, and then sighed when Arthur kept a level stare, his blue eyes like discerning glass looking through him. Isaac put down the mug of hot chocolate on the counter and then sank his face into his hands in embarrassment, bracing himself for the teasing laugh from Arthur. He hated that. “Was it that obvious?”

As if to apologise for his sudden declaration (which may or may not be truth), Arthur hummed, taking his time. “Not really. It shows on your face, though.” He put down Vincent’s mug, leaning his elbow on the counter.

He lowered his hands—eyes still averted from Arthur’s gaze, and chuckled bitterly. “What? Do I look like I’m researching him or something?” That was usually the case with whatever held his interest, whether it be astrology, chemical compounds, physics problems that seemed impossible at  first, and then revealed themselves to him, like a magician that made a one second mistake in the sleight of his hand, and Isaac began to understand. He wasn’t that self-aware of his own expressions, only the things he’s said. And he’s positively sure he’s never spoken of Napoleon in an intimate manner, much less romantic.

“No, not at all. In fact, it’s the opposite.”

Isaac scrunched his brows. “The opposite of love is hatred.” 

Arthur laughed, and Isaac just tried to be patient with that. “Not at all, chap. I’m saying—when you’re with him, you don’t try to… dissect him, and whatnot. Your love for him makes you human. There’s no glaze in your eyes when you understand something, no foaming at the mouth when you don’t. You’re just…” Arthur stretched his arms wide. “Here. With us, on the ground.” The mystical way Arthur said it made it sound like the kitchen was the entirety of the world. It might as well could’ve been. Arthur was quiet, and his gaze returned to Vincent’s paint blotched mug. “He makes you feel alive, doesn’t he? Like you’re here.”

Isaac stared into the small waves the water made when he nudged his own mug. “Yeah. Yeah, he does.”

“Then that’s that,” Arthur said, grabbing Vincent’s mug as he patted Isaac on the shoulder. For once in his life, Isaac didn’t shudder when Arthur winked at him. “Good luck,” he said, and left the kitchen. Probably to Vincent’s room. 

Isaac sighed. Right then. If Arthur could do it, then he could at least try. He brought the cup of hot chocolate with him and knocked at Napoleon’s door, knowing full well that he would be asleep, and that he would try to kiss him again.

His chest itched, but he didn’t bother to question it this time.

[he-was-a-memer-boy]

last post I made didn’t sound like I was stressing out so like here is me actually letting out all my stress and anger because I can’t exactly do that here bc my only friends in the dorm are doing fine on their own and don’t understand when i’m stressed out and another friend is a commuter and we only have chem lecture together and she’s been missing that for the past couple weeks so...

so i’m just mad at myself mostly because I'm just a terrible student

like my calc prof told us that if we’re getting 70′s and above then we’re fine but anything lower is at risk at failing the course at this point of the year

and let me tell you that it’s only week 5

I have another 5 weeks of classes until I have to prepare for final projects and exams. and it’s so stressful because I never have any down time and I can’t even use my meal swipes because I just want to sleep whenever I have an hour or two to relax

but I also feel obligated to get food since we’re paying for that

and now I need to get tutoring because I did absolute shit on midterms for the two most important classes in my curriculum

like how am I supposed to recover form these classes but I can’t withdraw from both so i’m planning on getting out of the class with the most credits (4) and keeping the other one (3.5) and hoping I can boost my gpa somewhat

I haven’t told my parents yet about all of this and i’m afraid that they’ll get mad that i’m withdrawing from a class and will have to make it up over the summer

which means paying for summer classes either here or in a different school that’s cheaper but i’m still wasting money by not performing the way I should be to begin with

also there’s a lot of people here who place too many responsibilities on me and they don’t even realize that they’re doing it

like I understand that you think I’m good at math but like let me tell you why you’re wrong

and like I really don’t have time to help anyone with anything they’re struggling with bc I need to have my own problems resolved and I know the other person can’t return the favor bc they’re not great at math or know much about chemistry

like we both are bad at the same things but I'm decent in two classes that they’re struggling with so I help them

why do I help them?

I don’t have time to do any of this. I don't have time.

I just went into the academic advisors’ office and talked to someone who isn’t my advisor because I had classes when she was in today

but I met with someone and, yesterday I did the same thing but that lady didn’t help at all bc she was all like “oh I think you’re doing better than you think you are” and like no I just said that I was struggling and that doesn’t mean that i’m getting B’s in these classes like I'm actually failing and not doing well and can’t get my shit together give me something to work with

but the lady I saw today actually told me I should go for tutoring in a lounge by my dorm so I think i’ll use it and go over my midterm

she was actually useful and validated my frustration and I couldn’t ask for anything else from someone

I hate people who tell me that I won’t fail because i’m smart

bitch, you don’t know me

i’m not smart, i’m lucky

i’m lucky I got into this school

my university 101 teacher said “everyone in this room is smart, otherwise you wouldn’t have gotten into this school“ like okay but you’re wrong

I honestly have never felt dumber in my life

I can’t understand anything or get anything done bc i’m trying to figure out how i’m supposed to study and do well in class and have a social life and be able to eat and sleep within 24 hours everyday

I hate when people tell me what I won’t fail because when I do, then what? You were wrong about me, but you’re still going to tell me that I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about it. Just work harder.

I have never worked this hard for this long in my life. Literally I’m studying and working and trying to get things done little by little everyday throughout the week. Even on the weekends I have no time to do anything because I have quizzes to study for or I have an assignment that’s due on Sunday or there’s a piece to a project that my team is placing on me to finish on my own or I have other responsibilities like doing laundry or cleaning up after my roommate leaves things on my side of the room or I have writing assignments that I haven’t started and need to do right now or I’ll never find the time to actually sit down and write or there’s a lab report that I should get started on because I also don’t know when I’ll find the time to get that done.

so like I have been working hard and been trying to take breaks but if you’re advice to me after I fail or do poorly on an exam or quiz is to work harder next time, all I can think and probably won’t say to you is that I don’t have time to give to one specific class bc that time should be spent on another thing

should I lose even more sleep? i’m already only getting about five hours in every day and that’s including naps

i’m so frustrated

i’m mad bc I even cried when I met with the advisor and it wasn’t fun at all. I was trying to hide it, but when she asked me what I got on my midterm since she doesn’t have access to my grades, I started sobbing. it was awful and I couldn’t even tell her what was wrong and what I was struggling with so she recommends the tutoring.

she also told me “hang in there” and I just feel like giving up bc I'm just that frustrated with everything

I won’t we able to keep my scholarship and it’s only the first term. If I don’t do well starting now, there’s no way in hell that I can salvage my gpa

I fucking hate everything rn and it’s all bc I thought I deserved to go to this school