wassup yall.
first post. ;-;
hope yall like it
It was 1:43 AM. Outside, the rain was tapping a nice, peaceful, sleepy rhythm against the glass.
The kind of rain that whispers, turn off your alarms, wrap yourself like a burrito, and sleep for a hundred years.
WRONG. Absolutely not in this universe.
Because tomorrow morning is the organic chemistry midterm. And when your study group consists of seven feral gremlins whose collective IQ fluctuates wildly depending on their proximity to caffeine, organic chemistry isn't an exam anymore. It’s a hostage situation.
That peaceful rain rhythm lasted right up until Abigale threw a rubber eraser at the window to test if she could shatter the glass with pure, unadulterated malice.
"yooooooooooooooooooooo," abigale texts.
"sup" perle responds, and three seconds later, "RISE AND SHINEEEEE—" maya texts.
abigale: what do chemists call a benzene ring with iron atoms replacing the carbon?
abigale: a Ferrari
perle: leave.
maya: honestly? iconic. terrible. but iconic.
ziel: guys, i can't find my notes for chapter 3, do any one of you have it. PLEASE TELL ME YOU HAVE IT. I CAN'T FIND IT, IT'S NOT WITH ME. WHAT AM I GONNA DO? THAT CHAPTER SUCKS—I HATE AMINES PLEASEEEEEEEEEEE SEND ME THE NOOOOOOTES
sayuri: amines_and_other_mistakes_final_v9.docx
sayuri: Quit crying. It's just primary, secondary, and tertiary nitrogen atoms acting dramatic. Print it or fail.
aspen: whats up howz life n stuff
abigale: (sent an image: a blurry, chaotic photo of half-spilled iced coffee, a pristine chemistry textbook covered in a grease stain, and a half-eaten chicken nugget)
aspen: lol—why does the textbook look so new?
perle: probably opened it today.
abigale: (sent a meme of a cat violently vibrating in front of a computer screen)
maya: guys chill, we will get good grades 😏
ziel: (sent an image: a cursed, deeply terrifying edit of Shrek with human teeth and hyper-realistic anime eyes holding a single piece of dry toast)
sayuri: looks like abigale. under-caffeinated maniac version.
perle: what is wrong with your brain
kathrine: 34 unread messages. At 2:07 in the morning. On the eve of an organic chemistry examination that determines whether any of you pass into the next academic tax bracket or end up living in a municipal ditch. You absolute, brain-rotted, feral turnips. I am surrounded by absolute intellectual void-brains who couldn't pass a basic hygiene test let alone an esterification pathway, and yet you choose now to channel your inner circus clowns. I swear to whatever higher power tolerates your miserable existence that if I hear one more pixel of absolute balderdash from this chat, I am personally taking a hammer to every single router in a four-mile radius, dragging you out of your beds by your hair, and locking you in the library until your collective IQ rises above freezing temperature. Tell me why, you numbskulls.
aspen: ain't nothin' but a heartache
maya: ain't nothin' but a mistake
sayuri: never wanna hear you say
perle: I want it that way
kathrine: I am going to revoke all your passports, delete your hard drives, and feed you to the Department of Education. You absolute gobshites. Go. To. Sleep.
kathrine: (sent an image: her middle finger raised directly at the camera, flanked neatly by a meticulously highlighted chemistry textbook and a depressingly black cup of espresso)
aspen: okay go to sleep—idiots
maya: rest in peace kathy's sanity
