#master programme

[gyancafe]

IIT JAM 2025: Joint Admission Test To Be Held On February 2

https://www.linkedin.com/posts/career-at-center_education-career-students-activity-7216379778474401793-SZU-?utm_source=share&utm_medium=member_desktop

The exam will be held for admission to master's programme for the academic session 2025-26.

The Indian Institute of Technology (IIT), Delhi will conduct the upcoming Joint Admission Test (JAM) 2025 on February 2, 2025. Interested and eligible candidates can visit the official website of JAM 2025 for detailed information.

[randomswedish]

Master Programme in Battery Technology and Energy Storage - Uppsala Univ...

[heart-ghost-studyblr]

Getting old is interesting. I've always been a middle ground between sports (skateboarding, surfing, jiu-jitsu) and an avid student. Over time, it's clear that you can't keep trying the same tricks, just as you can't study the same way.

Today, as I'm writing an article about event-driven architectures, I realize that final exams in college were much easier, just like it's not as easy to jump the same stairs on a skateboard as I did when I was 18. In the image, you can see my favorite note-taking app, Obsidian, and my Neovim terminal. I'm diving deep into Java, and for that, I'm taking a Spring Boot bootcamp offered by Claro through the DIO Innovation One platform.

[am-i-soup]

them!! i adore these kiddos. they're my favourite humans in any continuity. they're such realistic teenagers and good characters in general (miko haters FIGHT ME she is my adhd girly and i won't stand for this slander)

a lot of people get annoyed by the kids, but i love the energy and family dynamic they bring to team prime. the autobots really need that after the terrible things they've experienced in the war (the kids are also funny and have adorable relationships with the bots and bring out the kid in bee, which is so precious)

[langernameohnebedeutung]

"Ah. Thanks for being yummy."

[ayjaydraws]

oh I already know who he’d use his one free mf pass on

[innerchorus]

A warm-up drabble before I return to working on my main WIP. This one is three words too long but fuck it, I'm just going to share it as it is rather than sit here for too long thinking about what to chop or how to rephrase it.

The Gift

The Holy Master sends Hilmes a gift with ulterior motives.

The woman Hilmes found at his door had a look in her eyes that was somewhere between terror and absence. As still as a statue, her body hung in unnatural compliance at the threshold of the room, wrapped in pure blue silk. Her hair was a wheaten blonde, as was common in those of Maryamian descent. 

He sent her away.

“I see you rejected my gift,” said the black-robed sorcerer when next they met. 

“I have no need for women before I regain my throne.”

“Perhaps I misread your tastes,” the sorcerer mused. “Next time, I shall send you one of my disciples.”

[ranbling]

My plans for the summer:

-find the perfect masters programme in Europe with affordable housing

[heart-ghost-studyblr]

Very busy week because I’m moving to a new city, but coding must go on!

After countless containers and virtual machines, I finally made a repository for my dotfiles, including Neovim, Tmux, Lazygit, etc. It’s so much simpler to grab my configurations from clone a repo, instead, I was used to send via FTP or something like that.

This week, I’ve been working on a short and simple video about using Kafka with the customizer terminal and Tmux. It’s incredibly easy to manage sessions by splitting them, which we use a lot because Zookeeper server and Kafka brokers still in single window each (If is local machine).

In the picture, I’m using the Kitty terminal with Tmux and 3 open windows: Neofetch, a CLI Pomodoro timer, and Lazygit.

In the YouTube window, the title in japanese means "Hikaru Utada playlist for a rainy day" I love hear this type of playlist while studying. I’ll leave the link to the playlist in case you want to listen too, just click here.

[whump-it]

So it, uh, looks like I finally wrote some of Callum's story! Enjoy!

The patient had narrowed their eyes at him when he had walked in, three student doctors and two trained nurses trailing in after him.

"I know you from somewhere," the patient had said.  "We haven't met have we?"

"I don't believe we have," Callum had answered, holding out his hand to shake.  "Dr Callum Morrow, consultant surgeon."  The patient had looked at his hand then back at him.

"Oh that's it," they'd said, not taking his hand. "That's why I know you.  You're the one on the TV that time going on about how bad the Collection Programme is.  That's it."

"Hmm," Callum had hummed; a noise of practiced polite, non-commital doctor-answering. 

"I don't want you operating on me," the patient had said.  "No way.  The things you've said about that family.  They lose their parents first, and then if that's not enough, that poor poor girl gets murdered.  Then her brother dies in a car accident and you're the one saying how bad you have it!?  You asked to be a Donor.  There's not one of that poor family left to defend themselves.  My cousin had a BP and they got on like a house on fire.  I don't trust a word you say."

........

Sitting in the hospital restaurant, the conversation played over and over again in Callum's head.  He had picked the restaurant quite deliberately over the harsh silence of his office.  It was as anonymous as a man in scrubs with scarred arms and a scar around his throat could get in a hospital.  Too many other people all caught up in their other people drama to notice him.  He doesn't think that he'd have said anything for the patient to complain about, but the truth is that he's not sure exactly what was said after that.  He would have been polite.  He'd not have risked his record at the hospital or his registration as a consultant by being rude.  That much he knows is true. 

Quite what his students must think about him though was another matter entirely.  His past isn't a huge secret and every new person that he meets, every patient, every new recruit, every student he trains and mentors, they all eye up his scars and whisper when they think he's not looking.  But to hear the way that the patient had spoken to him can't have inspired a huge amount of confidence in him.  Patients hardly ever tell a surgeon that they don't want them to be the one performing their surgery.

In front of him, the plate of chicken curry and rice was getting colder by the minute.  It wasn't even that he was particularly hungry, but the restaurant staff weren't overly keen on people coming in and taking up room that paying customers could use.  And so, chicken curry it was.  He had mashed it down with the back of his fork into a lumpy puree.  A cold one, which he sat and stated at.  To the side of the plate, the small dish of melon and custard that he'd picked up for literally no reason suddenly had a use.  He tipped the melon and custard into the curry and mashed it all together.

Perfect.

Just like Master Hayden would have made for him to eat.  Something with vitamins and nutrients and very little consistency.  Something just right for a little wretch who has atoned.  And with very little appetite, Callum ate the whole plate.  Ingratitude is not to be even thought of.   Someone had taken the time and effort to cook this.

And manners cost nothing.  He sighed as he pushed his chair back and took the plate, bowl, cutlery, and tray to the rack where they are meant to be stacked by whoever used them.  Not left at the table for the staff to clear away.  Yes, manners cost nothing, he thought as he muttered thanks to anyone in a uniform on his way back to his office, keeping his head down and eyes on the floor as he went.  Getting to the office and closing the door behind himself was a blessed relief.  Straight away he went to the shelf where Haz was always sat, ready should he be needed, and picked the teddy up.  Pressed him to his face.  Breathed in the smell of his fur.  It smelled like home.  Like real home.  Not like atonement in a basement, covered in blood and mud, a cracked masquerade of perfection that never really was. 

The knock at the door was unwelcome, when he had only been in there for less than a minute.  On instinct born of stress and panic, the noise made him flinch and twist Haz's ear.  He chewed his lip and whoever was on the other side knocked again.  Carefully, he placed Haz back on the shelf, unwilling to let him go so soon, and opened the door to find his favourite nurse, May, stood the other side.

"I heard what happened," she said with no preamble.  It was part of why he liked her so much.  She always had his back and always had her ear to the ground.  And always got straight to the point.  "Did you put Haz back on his shelf when I knocked?"

"Yeah," Callum said, rubbing at his forehead, at the spot where his bruise always used to be.  Where, if someone really looked hard enough, they would see a slight dip that was left from his brain surgery, another step along the road to recovering from what Master Hayden had done to him.

"Do you want to get him?" 

"Umm... yeah.  Yeah I do,"

"Well, come on then," she said, hustling him gently back into the office.  He didn't need to be told twice, hurrying back to the shelf and grasping Haz hard.  "Better?"

"Much," he said, pausing for a moment.  "I...I never lied May.  Never.  It's all true.   I can't lie because it's not allowed and rules like that stick.  They stick when they've been carved and burned and beaten and broken into you."

"I know," she said, coming to him and taking his hands in hers, Haz squashed up in between them.  "Everyone who matters knows.  And anyone who doesn't know?  Doesn't matter."

Callum looked down at their hands.  At Haz. 

"If this bear could talk," he said with a sigh.

"If this bear could talk," May said.  "He'd tell you how wonderful you are.  And how proud he is of you.  And he'd say thank you for keeping him safe all this time.  Most of all, he'd say we'll done and thank you for telling the truth to the whole world."

He could feel his throat getting tighter and thicker with the feeling of tears as he listened to May speaking.  As she stepped in to keep him from sinking too far back into the past where all he had to rely on for safety was a list of ten rules and the tenuous safety of atoning for temporary perfection, knowing that one day his luck and his time would run out. 

The past was not the place to be.  Anything that had dressed itself up as safety back then had been a lie.  He didn't have to rely on those lies anymore.

"You want to call Rory?" May asked quietly.  Callum nodded.  He wanted to do that very much.  Very much indeed.  May squeezed his hands before letting go, standing on tip toes to press a kiss to his forehead.  "You be back for ward rounds on time Dr Morrow, you hear?"

He smiled at her and kissed her back.

"I'll meet you down there."

Tagging the old team but it's been a while. Please say if you want off the list! No one is more surprised that this got written and posted than I am! @haro-whumps @grizzlie70   @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @bloodybrambles @iaminamoodymoodtoday @burtlederp @my-whumpy-little-heart @pepperonyscience @faewhump @whump-tr0pes @spookyboywhump @finder-of-rings @liliability @whumpfigure @girlwithacoolcat @tears-and-lilies @inpainandsuffering @whumppsychology @ashintheairlikesnow @justabitofwhump

[ayjaydraws]

Reciting EVERY curse word feels like a thing the weißbox master control programm would make him do in white hell

[misogynist-lesbian]

You... you spelled 'scrum' wrong...

[cleargreyskies]

Despairing a little about the state of my master's thesis. It could have been so good if I hadn't stopped caring. I keep losing interest when it is one of my favourite topics and one I chose a year in advance. More guidance would have helped me a lot. Someone who showed they cared and would have made me work on it, too. (I am so bad at doing things if there is no extrinsic motivation. Sometimes I feel lost like a dog that needs a task and attention.) And a better work ethic. A better research question. The thesis feels so random, and I am not qualified for the discussion. Two weeks left, the most important intellectual part still missing. I hate this. One paper in your time studying has to be your worst, but why does it have to be the final one?

[misogynist-lesbian]

[shortcourseonline146]

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