#I was thinking Ethyl?

[an-albino-pinetree]

Here she iiiisss ~ ✨ I’ll probably draw more of her, and expand on her character (she also mans the ticket booth, Oriole is her less enthusiastic coworker.)

@hootbon I’d love to have you critique this gal, if you have the time!

Mosquito lass 👍🏻 I Kinger’d her eyes, because I felt that fit her personality better-

If you’re asking how she sucks blood it’s by doing this to you

With her teeth, you’re so welcome for that mental image.

[thatneoncrisis]

streamed myself drawing my characters for several hours. birthday festivities. now look at them

[rottiens]

contents. satoru gojō x fem reader, alcohol consumption, all the characters are adults, secret relationship au.

"How many shots would you have to take to kiss Gojo?" Nanami asks the group as his eyes are on you, you laugh against the bottle stumbling against your lips. 

The question isn't out of place since you just answered that you would kiss Principal Yaga after taking at least about five shots out of respect and how nervous he makes you feel. However everyone knows what your relationship with Satoru is like, so the question catches you off guard. 

"Zero." Shoko answers for you and Satoru looks at her over the sunglasses, clearly displeased. "There's not enough alcohol in the world to make her kiss him." 

"Oh, no, no, wait... she's really thinking about it!" Haibara points an accusing finger at you and you can't help but laugh again, you feel the skin on your cheeks stretch and burn from the silly grin you can't wipe off. Satoru's stalking gaze feels like a torch on the back of your neck. 

You pretend to think it humming out loud, though the answer is clear to you. "At least about ten," you say, tilting the bottle up to your mouth, getting the group around the campfire to laugh filling the beach with echoes. 

"Heeey." Satoru pinches your forearm which makes you look at him, a tiny pout is later replaced by a couple of wrinkles on his forehead.

"What?" you ask softly and have to force your hands to stay still and not reach out to touch him. 

"Ten shots? That's almost an alcoholic coma."

"There are actually many things that could influence an ethyl coma," Kento clarifies.

"You can't explain much about alcohol to a person who doesn't drink." Your numb brain is sure that was Hibara, too lazy to check since your eyes were still on Satoru who was still indignantly staring at you. 

"What?" you repeat almost in a whisper. 

"Nothing." His attention returns to the campfire, the heat from the fire burns his pink cheeks and the bright flame dances on his face making his eyes look much lighter mimicking the shade of the sea at midday. 

Satoru pushes his glasses up on top of the bridge of his nose, hiding his eyes completely. 

"I'm going to get more beer," you say looking at the group, then tug on Satoru's arm to help him up, who does so reluctantly. "Can you help me with the box?" 

He walks beside you without adding anything else, shaking the sand out of his red shorts and pushing his hair out of his face. 

"Are you really upset?" The answer was obvious but you had to make sure, Satoru walks silently, sinking his feet aggressively into the sand until you reach the parking lot where your toes have never felt more grateful to touch solid ground. "Hey?" you tug on his hand and stop your steps, standing still in front of him. 

"Hhm?"

"Are you really upset?" 

"No," Satoru assures, avoiding your eyes.  

"Satoru, did you really want me to tell them that I would kiss you sober? Without a drop of alcohol?" 

You see him licking his lips battling with himself on whether to stay annoyed with you or understand your point. 

"I know."  

"I thought we were going to go slow..." 

"I know!" His hands cradle your cheeks tenderly, bringing his face up to meet yours to leave a kiss on your lips. "I was dying to touch you." 

"You know we didn't go public for you." You remind him, letting him rest his forehead on top of yours. The artificial taste of the strawberry beer he drank earlier sneaks into your mouth in little gasps. 

"Let's do it when we get back to the city," Satoru murmurs, brushing his lips over yours. "I think they know anyway." Oh, you're sure they know. You're both too obvious but you didn't want to push your boyfriend when he told you he wasn't ready to admit in front of everyone to officially having a partner. "But I don't like having to hold your hand on the sly or sneak out of meetings so I can kiss you and God, I'm just addicted to that watermelon gloss you use."

You laugh giving him fleeting little kisses, taking advantage of the position to wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer to you. 

"Just admit you're addicted to me, Satoru." 

"Maybe I am..." He says in that tone that indicates danger. That voice that tells you you're not going back to the group you had run away from. 

Satoru squeezes your waist possessively, his fingers trace on your sun-toasted skin and you moan between his half-opened lips the moment he asks for your tongue silently, his nose stumbling against yours. 

"We should get back..." you say in a whisper, remembering this fact more to yourself than to him.  

"We can disappear for ten minutes..." Pause. His lips move to your collarbone and his warm breath tickles you. "Fifteen minutes..." Pause. Small bites along your jaw take him to your neck. "Twenty..." His tongue dances over your salty skin, gently licking what he can reach and has to physically force himself not to suck. 

"It's never ten minutes..." you say between a choked moan, tugging at his strands sweetly until he's looking at you again. Dark sunglasses hide his eyes from you but his mouth is at your disposal, half open, red and appetizing and the tiny freckles that bathe his nose make your stomach knot. 

He grunts, as if battling with himself to understand that you are right. Satoru brings his face to the line of your neck and sighs heavily, leaving one last kiss to pull away from you against his will. 

"Let's go back then," he says resignedly. And he had never wanted the weekend to pass as quickly as he wanted it to now, being the impatient person he is, he didn't want to wait to have your hand entwined with his and fill his chest with raw pride where he could finally admit in front of everyone that you were his.

[lokidjarin-7567]

The Alchemy

Hwang In-ho (professor AU) x Reader

Your chemistry professor caught your eye the moment you walked into class, and as time went on, you couldn’t deny your feelings anymore. Did he feel it too, or were you doomed to heartbreak?

fem!reader x Professor Hwang In-ho, smut, fluff, a little angst and everything in between, badly edited, multiple POV, 18+ MDNI

8.5k words (sorry not sorry)

And here it is!! I’ve been obsessed with him for a while now, so very glad Squid Game is giving him the recognition he deserves from a Western audience. Decided to da a Professor AU because yum, so hope you enjoy x

Taglist: @nicki-lovesolderfictionalmen @jamiewritesfanfiction-blog @nunita23

TTPD Contents | General Masterlist | AO3

You knew it was wrong. Your obsession with him. Everything about him was thoroughly captivating to you: the way he spoke, the way he dressed, the way he walked around the lecture hall with such confidence. You were enthralled every single lesson, so attentive and studious, hanging on his every last word like it was some kind of spell for everlasting life. Really, if you thought about it, it was actuallly a good thing. Your grades were better, you hadn’t missed a single lecture since the term began, and you were putting more effort into your studies in a desperate effort to impress him. And the cherry on top of the cake was that he had noticed. He knew you by name, he always picked you first if you had your hand up, and he even added complimentary comments to your papers. Even if he was old enough to be your dad, even if there was a power imbalance, even if nothing could ever happen between you, your crush only continued to grow stronger.

“I know, I know, class is nearly over, but we’ve got a few more things to cover, so let’s wake you all up with a little organic pop-quiz.” A few groans echoed around the room, but you smiled. Organic chemistry was your favourite, especially when he taught it, so you watched as he drew a few molecules on the whiteboard. A formula, and a damn easy one.

“Can anyone tell me the primary product here?” Your hand was up before the question was finished, but you tried to limit your keen nature - only half-raising your hand lazily as you doodled the finished equation on your notepad. You liked to think you were quite good at hiding your adoration for him. Yes, you could listen to him talk for hours, but you knew when to watch him and when to take notes. You knew when to speak up and when to stay quiet. You could control your face, aside from the occasional blush, never sitting there with puppy-dog eyes or biting your pen like they do in the movies. You were subtle - small smiles after a compliment, gazing with admiration when he wasn’t looking, answering any questions quickly but with professionalism and confidence. The perfect student. But you never, ever flirted. You knew that was academic suicide, especially with a Professor as influential as him. You were content with detached obsession. For now, at least.

Your heart did flutter, though, at the smile and small chuckle he gave when he saw your hand.

“Of course, the only student I have that actually enjoys organic…” You heard a few hums of agreement from the students behind you, saw the nods from the ones in front. You smiled at your reputation.

“What can I say, at least you always have someone to answer your questions…” Another laugh, music to your ears.

“That is true. Go ahead.”

“Well, that’s ethanol and that’s ethanoic acid so you would produce ethyl ethanoate.”

“Ah, I made it too easy for you! Should have mixed up the length of the polymers so you would have to think about which prefix came first.” Another flash of a smile.

“Rookie error.” You joked, and it was the closest you’d ever been to flirting. The back and forth was making you blush, the way his eyes were fixed to you from the front of the classroom. You were in your usual spot in the third row - the perfect distance to see him clearly, but not too close to look keen. Although, that point was kind of defeated by the amount of times your hand was first up, no matter how nonchalantly you tried to do it. His eyes were glittering with a slight playfulness now, head slightly cocked and you were bewitched as a few locks of his neat hair fell across his forehead.

“In that case, come and draw it for me please.” Fuck. He looked pleased with himself, hand brushing the fallen strands back, small smirk playing across his features. You sighed, heading to the front of the room in defeat. He handed you the whiteboard pen, fingers brushing yours just slightly. They were soft, delicate and warm, and his eyes were firmly fixed on you as you muttered a quiet thank you. You didn’t get to see him this close often, but you didn’t have time to take him in beyond the deep brown of his eyes, his height compared to yours, and the light scent of sandalwood that seemed to cling to the air around him even after he had walked past you back to the front of the room.

“While she’s doing that, can someone else tell me the uses of this ester please?” You were grateful your back was to the rest of the class, a furious blush spreading across your cheeks at the proximity. He glanced back at your shorthand sketch, giving you a small nod of encouragement.

“Good, and in full please.” You obeyed wordlessly, just finishing the second bond on the oxygen when the bell rang.

“That’s it for today then, everybody. Check the online portal for the homework.” He called out above the sound of bags being packed. “Oh, and there are more practical classes this term, so your timetables are also on the portal for those. I know they’re boring, and I know you’ve done them all a million times, but you have to do them again to pass!” He sighed, half the class already gone by the time he finished his sentence. He turned back to you, holding his hand out with a smile and you passed the marker back to him, careful not to brush his hand this time. As much as you wanted to feel his skin against yours again, you would blush too obviously to get away with it. “Thank you,” he said to you quietly, “I know at least one student will show for the practicals.”

“No worries.” You didn’t want to leave yet, allowing yourself to enjoy the being around him a little now the rest of the class was clearing out. He was wearing your favourite suit today - charcoal grey wool - with a soft, baby blue shirt and a navy tie. He was meticulous as ever: understated silver tie pin perfectly level, tie itself knotted immaculately, hair brushed back neatly. Even his shoes were perfect, not a single scuff on the leather. Being around him like this was intoxicating, and you couldn’t help but talk to him just a little more as the last student filed out of the room. “What will the first practical be, out of interest?” You asked, forcing yourself to move back to your desk and slowly pack up your things.

“Just a distillation, I think...” He replied, trailing off and absentmindedly flicking through a few papers on his desk. You nodded, sensing his loss of interest, slinging your bag over your shoulder with just a hint of disappointment.

“Ok, sounds good. Thank you Professor…” You turned towards the door, but froze when you heard him call your name. You turned back around to see him looking at you slightly expectantly, a nervous energy buzzing from him that you’d never seen before.

“Before you go, I was just wondering if you’d picked an advisor yet? I know the decision is coming up in a few weeks.”

“No, I haven’t actually…” In all honestly, you had two options. And he was one of them. Of course he was. He was the best in the university, not to mention one of the best in his field. You learnt the most from him, you had the best relationship with him compared to the rest of your Professors. There were only two reasons why he wouldn’t be a perfect choice. Firstly, he was very picky with who he takes on, but if this conversation was going the way you thought it was, problem solved. The second, and much bigger, issue was your little obsession. If he was your advisor, you would see him one-on-one every two weeks at least, on top of class time, practicals time and in between all of that if you had questions. And for most people that had a crippling crush like you did, they would be jumping for joy at the opportunity to spend more quality time with them. But you didn’t want that. You didn’t want to make a move on him, or make your feelings for him obvious because it could destroy everything you had worked so hard towards. But equally, having him on your side was a great accolade, and it would do you wonders in your academic career.

You were a big girl. You could handle a little crush.

“Well…” He continued, hand running through his hair again before starting to pack up his own things. “I would very much like to fill that role unless you had anyone else in mind. You’re incredibly talented, and passionate about the subject in a way I don’t see often. You don’t have to decide right now, of course…”

“I would love that.” Your mouth had answered before your brain caught up, but his wide smile solidified your resolve.

“Excellent. Well, how does Friday sound for our first meeting? I think that’s when you’re scheduled for the practical, so that makes it easy…”

“That sounds perfect. Thank you, again, Professor Hwang, I appreciate the opportunity…”

“Not at all. The pleasure is all mine.” His wide smile warmed your heart thoroughly, and you left before you could melt into a puddle on the floor at the nature of his words.

It had been a couple of months now, and dear God, it was driving you insane. You’d made a huge mistake, and unfortunately for you, it was an unfixable one. He was the perfect advisor in every way - attentive, intelligent, willing, passionate, everything you could ever want. But being so close to him was driving you crazy. Once a fortnight, it was just you and him in his office, talking for an hour, joking, laughing, fighting every urge in your body to climb across the desk and give in to your desires. You had even started to dress up for him - purposely putting in extra effort the days you knew you had a meeting. The crush was getting much worse too, obsession starting to take over. For days after your meeting, all you could do was analyse every tiny interaction you had, every time he looked at you or spoke to you or even breathed differently. And fucking hell it was driving you insane.

You were sure it was getting harder to hide too. Before, it was less of a crush, more an admiration. Yes, you were aware he was attractive, but more than anything, you were capitavated by his teaching and passion. Now, all of that was still true, but all you could think about was how much you wanted to fuck him. Twice just that week you had missed half the class caught up in a daydream, not even being able to answer him when he called on you, too busy thinking about him bending you over his desk and having his way with you. Your last paper got a B because every time you tried to write, all you could think about was him reading it. What he would be wearing when he graded it at home. Comfortable clothes, surely, hair messy and uncouth. What he would think of it, whether he would smile at your words and add little notes when he agreed with what you were saying. Whether he truly thought as much about you while reading it as you thought of him while writing it.

You’d fucked up. You’d gotten too close, irreversibly so, and now, you had to see him today. You knew he would have something to say about your grades dropping. It was getting too obvious. You just hoped he would accept whatever bullshit you managed to invent on the spot. Your knuckles rapped against his office door, heart stuck in your throat.

**

She had caught his eye the minute she stepped into his lecture hall that first day of term. He wasn’t sure what it was exactly about her, whether it was her eyes, or hair, or lips. Or maybe it was just her. The confidence she seemed to exude, her sense of style, the studious and determined look she always seemed to have on her face. She was the most active participant in his classes, and every time he called on her, she would answer with such enthusiasm and excitement. He could tell how much she genuinely enjoyed the subject from the very first lesson, and even as the term continued, her passion didn't waver like some students’ did. She hadn’t missed a single lecture - always there in the same spot on the third row, and he was grateful for her choice of seat. It was close enough to see her, not too close to make it obvious that he was staring, and it was also far enough into the classroom that he had time to admire her while she made her way to her seat. To watch her while she was focussed elsewhere - namely, walking down the stairs without falling over. He enjoyed the time it gave him to work out how she was feeling on a day, whether she seemed dejected or excited, shy or outgoing. He liked how easy it was for him to read her.

And, if he was honest with himself, he liked the attention too. The first time he saw her, he knew he would be head over heels for a little while, and he accepted that. She was his student, and nothing could happen, so he buried it and got on with his lectures as usual, with only a few extra glances thrown her way when he knew she wouldn't be looking. But then he noticed it. The coy smiles, the extended glances, the occasional time he caught her biting her lip or pen. The way she blushed furiously if he ever caught her in the act. The first few times, he wrote it off as coincidence and wishful thinking, but eventually, it clicked that there was something there. Something charged. And he thrived off that energy.

That was why he had put forward the idea of being her advisor. If he was honest, he knew it was a terrible idea. That it could get messy, that he could get too close, that he would hurt his own feelings. But ultimately, he wanted to be near her as much as possible, and at the end of the day, in every scenario of shit hitting the fan, he was always the one that got fucked over. His feelings were clearly stronger than hers - something he had noticed recently swelling in his heart unreciprocated - and he was the one with his job on the line. He was the only one at risk, and he was willing to take that risk to be closer to her.

Recently, though, she’d seemed different. Distracted. Stressed. Avoidant. Her grades were dropping, she was barely talking in class and when he spoke to her one-on-one, he would catch her shrinking back into herself if she laughed too much, as though she was second guessing everything she did. He’d done everything to hide his feelings, and honestly, he thought he was doing a good job, but maybe she felt uncomfortable around him. Maybe he was being obvious and he’d misread her feelings. Or maybe she was just going through a rough patch in her personal life.

He had a meeting with her today, and he couldn’t think of anything but seeing her for the whole day. What she would be wearing, how or if he would broach the topic, what he should even say to her… He was struggling to concentrate on his lectures, mind wandering to her.

The relief washed through his body when he heard her knuckles softly knock against the door. He was worried she wouldn’t even come.

“Come in.” She opened the door cautiously, small smile on her lips. She looked more beautiful than she ever had somehow. She wasn’t wearing much makeup, just some natural blush and mascara, and her hair was down and framing her face perfectly. Her outfit was simple but classy; all black, simple satin skirt and skintight tee, chunky knit cardigan over the top.

“Hi Professor.” She replied cheerily, but there was a hint of something unreadable in her voice. Weariness, maybe? Stress? “How has your day been?” He smiled as they fell into their usual chatty routine, mind slightly at ease.

“Not too bad, thank you, although a few too many lectures for my liking. How was yours?” She laughed lightly, the sound warming his heart.

“Same problem for me too. A lot of lectures, none of them particularly interesting…” it seemed as though she wanted to say something else but bit her tongue, and he couldn’t help but feel himself deflate. He wanted her to be able to feel more comfortable around him, but she was holding herself back.

“That’s because I wasn’t teaching them…” The words fell from his lips before he could stop them, but to his relief, she smiled, a small chuckle escaping from her.

“Something like that.” She paused for a beat, seeming awkward and unsure. “Look, Professor, before we get into the stuff about my dissertation, I just wanted to talk to you about something…” The serious nature of her tone made his heart lurch, and he wanted to reach out and hold her hands, to drain away her evident nerves. She wasn’t even meeting his eyes, just wringing her hands in her lap as she tried to say what she needed to.

“Of course, my office is always an open space to talk about whatever you need to.” He hoped his words were comforting, and by her small smile, they had at least offered some small reassurance.

“I just wanted to apologise. I know my grades have been slipping a little the past few weeks, and I just wanted to make sure you knew that I’m on it and I’m doing everything to get them back up. I think I’ve just been a little distracted, and I don’t know really…” She was rambling, and his heart hurt for her. Yes, he had noticed her grades slipping a little, but it was from an A to a B for maybe two papers and a quiz. It wouldn’t affect her overall grade, and it certainly wouldn’t affect his opinion of her. He couldn’t help but wonder why she felt the need to apologise or explain herself.

“You have no reason to apologise. Everyone has better weeks than others, and it’s not going to affect your performance in my class or anything like that…”

“But…” she looked confused, as though she was genuinely trying to figure out why he wasn’t annoyed with her. “You’re Professor Hwang. I mean, you’re the best in your department, maybe even in the whole university. You pick your students that you want to advise because they’re the best, and I’ve not been…”

“First of all, I definitely am the best Professor in the *whole university*, thank you, but more importantly, that’s not why I pick people to mentor. I pick people based on their passion, talent, and work ethic. Not because they’re a machine who churns out A* papers every single week and has nothing else going on in their life that might affect that.” Once he’d finished talking, he looked up at her to see her close to tears, still staring at her hands in her lap.

“I, um…” she cleared her throat, finally meeting his eyes with a gratefulness he hadn’t seen in her before. A vulnerability he didn’t recognise, but wanted to see more of nonetheless. “Thank you for saying that. Really. None of my other Professors seem to think in that way.” Then under her breath, barely audible, she added something extra. “Neither do my family for that matter.”

“Well, as I said, my office is always open. If you ever have something you need to talk about, I’m here.”

“Thank you, truly.” She replied earnestly, and found himself struggling to reply as his heart swelled. He hadn’t realised how protective he felt over her until he saw her upset, but now, hand clenched by his side at the thought of someone making her feel unworthy over a few grades, he realised that maybe his feelings had blossomed a little more than he wanted them to.

The day after was another practical class. Just a titration, a check box more than anything with the calibre of his students. They knew what they were doing. Especially her. It would hopefully be an easy half hour; just let them do their thing, tick it off in the system, and be finished with it.

What he hadn't banked on, however, was the student that seemed to spend his whole time flirting with her.

She had been the first in the classroom that afternoon. She seemed tired, the last lesson after a likely busy day, but even more so than usual, her normally flawless makeup doing little to hide the puffy bags under her eyes. Her outfit was clean and put together, but a lot more basic than what she usually wore, just jeans and a baby tee, with none of her usual quirky flourishes. He was about to ask if she was ok, to talk to her more than the perfunctory hello she had thrown his way at the door when another student entered the classroom close behind her. The whole space was empty, but he decided to sit directly beside her. She seemed annoyed, making polite small talk but not much else and he just didn't seem to be taking the hint. He was leaning too close, laughing too loud, looking at her for too long…

His own jealousy surprised him. It was rage, pure and simple, white hot and blinding. He felt inordinately possessive, wanting nothing more than to shove him across the classroom and teach him a lesson about personal space, but as more students piled in to the space, all he could do was glare and hope he got the hint. Eventually though, she solved the problem herself. He had been so close to interfering, so blinded by anger he had started to move towards her bench, but she just stood up, and walked away from him mid sentence, ignoring him completely. The look of shock on his face was priceless, but the joy it brought him was quickly replaced with anger once again as the kid shifted in his seat, blushing red and muttering ‘bitch’ under his breath. If In-ho had a knife, he genuinely could have killed him in that moment. Because how fucking dare he.

But instead, he breathed in deeply before moving over to him calmly and giving him a menacing, tight-lipped smile. The student met his eyes with a perplexed look, but he just spoke over him before he had a chance to say anything else.

“If you ever talk about one of my students, let alone a woman, like that again, you will be barred from my class and the entirety of the chemistry department for the rest of your academic career, both at this school and wherever else you may choose to study. Is that crystal clear?” He said it so calmly, so coldly, that the kid just sat there in stunned silence for a moment, and he had to raise his eyebrow to prompt him to answer.

“Um… yes… yes Professor.” He stammered, and he smiled again without any warmth.

“Good, now find a new desk and complete your practical, or else you’ll have to retake my class, and you really don't want that, do you?” He shook his head frantically, scrambling away with his things and finding a space near the back of the room.

She looked confused for a moment when she got back to the now empty bench, but on glancing around the room and meeting his eyes, she smiled warmly at him in gratitude, blush spreading across her cheeks. He would do anything if it meant she smiled at him like that.

It had been an hour, and apart from one broken conical flask, there had been no major mishaps, and almost all of his students had finished their titrations. Except for her. She was on her fourth attempt now, the last student apart from her silently filing out of the classroom, and she was getting increasingly frustrated each time. He was trying to be subtle, to not make her feel pressured at all, but he couldn't help but watch as she turned the stopcock so slightly, letting a single drop fall into the flask, and he watched it turn colour perfectly… until the stopcock wasn't closed properly, another few drops sneaking through and pushing it past the end point colour.

“Fuck!” Every other attempt, it had been a quiet frustration, hidden under her breath, but this time she couldn't help it, cursing loudly and slamming her hand on the table. He could hear her heavy breaths even from across the room, her hand dragging through her hair in annoyance. She almost looked close to tears, just staring at the failed experiment. He muttered her name in concern, standing up ready to help her, but she just shook her head, grabbing the flask and heading to empty it.

“I’m so sorry for my outburst, Professor, my language was completely inappropriate…”

“No that’s not it at all, curse all you want…” He moved over to her desk as he spoke, but she was busying herself setting up again, not meeting his eyes. So he said her name again, firmly but kindly, garnering her attention without upsetting her. It worked, and she stopped moving for a moment, slightly out of breath in frustration. “Are you ok? You don’t seem yourself at all…” She was grinding her jaw as he spoke, trying to hold her emotions back, but a tear fell from her eye regardless, rolling down her cheek. She huffed loudly, wiping it away quickly and looking to the ceiling, trying to blink back the other tears that were threatening to spill.

“I’m fine.” She insisted, but her voice cracked as she did, another tear escaping as she muttered another curse under her breath. “Sorry, I’m just wasting your time today…”

“Never.” He said firmly, moving to her side of the desk. “Talk to me.”

“I don’t know what going on, I just can’t seem to…” another tear rolled down her cheek, his heart broke for her.

“Hey, take a second, just breathe, ok? Sit down, cry if you need to, just take a moment.” She nodded, sitting down on the lab stool with a snuffle. He sat down too, tucking his stool slightly closer to her and waiting until she was ready.

“I’m sorry, I think I’m just overwhelmed. I didn’t sleep too well last night, so I’ve been exhausted all day. One of my professors gave me shit for being late even though the bus broke down on my way here, and that ruined my mood. Another lecture turned out to be some surprise test thing nobody had prepared for so that was horrible. And… well I’m just rambling now and I don’t know if I’ve told you this yet but I might as well at this point because I guess it’s something you should know as my advisor - I have general anxiety disorder and…” she paused, catching her breath and scoffing slightly as she continued speaking quickly, “well, and a whole host of other things I don’t have time to go into but I’ve spent most of the afternoon warding off panic attacks hence the…” She trailed off, holding up her hand which was shaking like a leaf. “So I can’t focus, I can’t control the equipment even though I’ve done at least 30 titrations in my academic career and I was honestly just looking forward to seeing… to doing something practical with my day but…” He didn’t think she’d even noticed the tears starting to fall, but he did immediately. He also noticed the way her voice was getting breathier, and the increasingly frantic look in her eyes. He was worried. She seemed worn out, way too thinly strung and now here she was, crying over an experiment he knew she could do in her sleep. She needed to take care of herself for a bit, to take it easy. But right now, maybe he could help.

His hand moved to her face, brushing the tears away before moving to her shoulder and squeezing.

“Hey, slow down. Look at me. Breathe.” He took a long deep breath, his eyes fixed firmly to hers as she copied, repeating the action a few times. He watched as she slowly seemed to calm, shoulders dropping and tears drying up. “That’s better.”

“I’m so sorry, this was only supposed to take like half an hour. I’ve derailed your whole afternoon, I just don’t know what’s come over me today.” He sighed. The way she felt she had to be sorry for being human made him feel so protective of her, so willing to hurt anyone who made her feel this way.

“You’re stressed, you didn’t sleep well and your anxiety is flaring up. None of that is something you have to apologise for. And you definitely don’t have to apologise for derailing my day - my evening consists of grading papers and getting an early night. Both of those things can wait even if this titration takes all night.” She laughed, wiping away the last of her tears with a grateful smile.

“Thank you.” Her hand moved to rest atop his, which was still sitting on her arm, squeezing slightly. His breath caught briefly at the contact, and it took all the self control in his body to not lean into her touch, to kiss her then and there.

“Always…” he muttered, smiling softly, and after another beat, he slid his hand away, feeling cold at the lack of warmth from her. “Now,” he took a deep breath, grounding himself to reality. *Student, teacher, do the maths - not a good idea.* “Let’s finish this practical.”

**

His presence was so calming to you. After four failed attempts, you were already doing a lot better - hands steady, breaths even, a serenity you hadn't felt all day. He wasn’t even helping you; just being nearby was enough. He’d grabbed a few papers from his desk and was quietly grading while you worked, the occasional turn of paper and scratch of pen relaxing you. It was starting to get to the difficult part now, but your hands didn't fail you, adding the titrate drop by drop, swirling the flask until… it stayed pink. Just enough, a soft wash of magenta, and you couldn't help but grin.

“See…” he muttered, not once looking up from his papers, “I told you you could do it.” You smiled even wider, holding back every urge within you to hug him.

“Thank you.” You settled on the sentiment instead, jotting down the final measurements. “And…”

“I swear if you try to apologise again, I will kick you out of my class once and for all.” God he knew you so well. You chuckled lightly, biting your tongue to stop you from apologising for that as well.

“Never again, I promise.”

You had packed up, moving as quickly as possible to ensure you didn't waste any more of his time, but honestly, you wanted to be around him just a little longer. Today had taught you that maybe your ever-growing feelings might not be a problem, but a help. He was so calming to be around, so good at putting your doubt and anxiety at ease, and talking to him was easy, terrifyingly so. His company was soothing, and on bad days, at least you knew you had a place to go.

And now, you had to face the long bus to your off-campus apartment, followed by an evening alone with your thoughts.

You had sorted your things, putting on your coat and pulling up the hood, bracing yourself to head out in the dark and rainy evening.

“Thank you again for everything, Professor, I’ll see you on Monday.”

“Wait…” he called out your name as you opened the door, and you paused, internally sighing in relief. “How are you getting home?”

“Just the bus from campus, its not far to the station from here…”

“I’ll take you, I’m leaving here anyway.”

“No, I couldn't ask you to do that, Sir…”

“You’re not asking, I’m offering. Where am I taking you?” You blushed at his comment, heart leaping at the authoritative tone, but telling him anyway. “That's only a few streets away from me, it’s not out of my way at all.”

“Only if you’re sure…”

“I wouldn't have offered otherwise.”

You had made it to the awning of the building, the last moment of peace before you were bombarded by the rain. He followed you out, sighing slightly.

“Do you smoke?” He asked, and the question surprised you slightly. He’d never struck you as the type, but now, as you turned around to see him standing with a cigarette dangling between his lips, you couldn't believe how natural it looked.

“Yeah…” You were relieved. You had been desperate for one all afternoon, but hadn't had a chance. You moved to open your handbag, unsure of where you'd left them, but he had already extended his pack out towards you. You smiled.

“Thank you…” He lit yours first, shielding it with his hands for you, and you couldn't help but notice how close he was to you. He lit his own, and you watched it awe at his beauty as the lighter illuminated his face. His first drag was long and desperate, the deep sigh he let out when he breathed echoing your own relief. You wondered if that's what he’d be like when you were on your knees for him quiet but needy, hand running through his hair and…

“What are your plans this weekend?” You blushed, not at the question but what it had distracted you from, taking a drag while you composed yourself.

“Not much, just studying, finishing a few papers, the usual.”

“No plans with friends? A boyfriend?” He asked almost shyly, then blushed profusely. “Or girlfriend, or partner… sorry I didn't mean to assume.” You laughed at his embarrassment.

“No, no plans. Friends are all out of town or doing the same as me, and no boyfriend to have plans with.” You weren't sure why you felt like you had to clarify that. It was an instinct more than anything, something in you felt like he should know. “What about you? Any plans?”

“Nope, no plans either. Friends are all married with children, so they don't have weekends anymore. And my brother is out of town with work, so that just about rules out everyone.” Your heart sung at the lack of a girlfriend or wife mentioned, but you somehow managed to control your face. “I got a new jigsaw I might try…” You couldn't help but laugh out loud at that, and he laughed with you. “Sorry, I know thats like the oldest old person thing I could've said…”

“No I just… I was thinking the same thing but didn't want to seem old.” His turn to laugh loudly, a sound that warmed you through.

“You don't have to worry about that…”

“Neither do you.” You had replied quickly, without thinking, and suddenly the air was charged. He was looking you in a way that was unreadable, almost curious but there was something else brewing just under the surface. His eyes were locked onto yours, and you found yourself unable to look away, not letting yourself to be the first to break contact. You weren't sure what it was about today - maybe just because of how shitty you’d felt the last few days, how kind and caring he had been, how many times you’d been in touching distance of him - but you wanted him to know you were an option. Even if it was a bad idea, if it could ruin both of you, if it could destroy everything you'd ever worked towards… you suddenly didn't care. You needed him to know you were here, arms open and waiting, if he ever wanted you.

The car ride was quiet, silence only broken by the occasional attempt at small talk. It was as though the look you had shared earlier had shattered your ability to speak to each other normally, a cloud hanging over the both of you, threatening to pour. Eventually, you pulled up outside your building, and your heart broke that it was over. You had to leave now, to be alone in your flat, to try and relax without thinking about him. His touch, his laugh, his smell.

“Thank you for the lift.” You managed to croak out after sitting silent for a moment, voice laced with disappointment you didn’t have the energy to hide.

“Anytime.” He muttered back, and your hand moved to the door, eyes glazing over at the sight of the raindrops hitting the car window. You weren’t sure why you didn’t just leave, open the door and run inside, out of the rain, out of the tension. Maybe it was the weather, pushing you to take comfort somewhere warm and welcoming. Or maybe it was the scent of sandalwood and cigarettes that clung to the leather surrounding you. Or maybe it was the way your arm was still tingling where he had touched you earlier, his hands warm and expansive and calming. It didn’t really matter though. Regardless of the reason, you still chose to open your damn mouth one more time.

“I don’t want to wait until Monday to see you again.” Your voice was barely a whisper, barely audible, but from the way he muttered your name warningly, he heard. You flushed furiously, feeling so fucking stupid. You’d ruined everything. He was your advisor, your professor, your whole support system felled in one swoop. God, you were an idiot. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said that. I’ll go.” You reached for the handle again, tears springing to the corners of your eyes.

“Wait.” His voice was… well, you weren’t sure. It sounded frustrated, sure, but also, there was a desperation in it. A need. He didn’t want you to leave either. “God, I’ve thought about how this might go so many times and never once landed on what I’d want to say.” There was a lump in your throat, and your hands fell back into your lap, turning to see the slightly pained expression on his face, almost pleading. His hair was messy, one hand raking through it as his eyes met yours. “There’s obviously… I mean it’s undeniable the way I… but I just…” He was so nervous, eyes scanning across your face frantically. “I’m your advisor. I’m your Professor. I’m in a position of authority here, its a power imbalance and I’m old enough to…” You had sat calmly listening to him ramble, so grateful that your feeling weren’t unrequited that you didn’t care what other excuses he would try to come up with.

“I don’t care.” He whispered your name again in warning, but softer, and you could see his resolve eroding with every second he was in your presence. “I mean it. You said it yourself, it’s undeniable. And now we’ve addressed it… what’s the harm in trying?” He still looked confused, pain wrought into his features as his eyes locked onto yours. And then, it was like you could see him accept that he couldn’t stop this now. That he didn’t want to. The fear gave way to longing, his hand cupping your jaw in a way that made your breath catch in your throat.

“I need you to…” The nerves were still clear in his voice, but his hand was definite, thumb brushing your lips and you leant into the touch, body naturally caving towards his. “Please tell me your want this. I need to be sure.”

“I want this.” You were so firm in your response, so final, he had no choice but to believe you.

He leant in, cupping your face in his hand, touch so strong, so definite, that any residual doubt melted away as his lips touch yours. It was fleeting, unsure, but not a moment before he had pulled away, you pressed back into him. Your kiss was desperate and bruising, hard and needy and full of months of pent up desire. He returned so fervently you sighed into his mouth, relief and arousal washing over your body. His hand moved to grip your hair, keeping you close, and you cursed internally that you were still in the car, centre console blocking your body from his. You were desperate to touch more of him, to feel his skin under your fingers, to run your hands across the ridges of his chest and up his arms. His grip was still strong in your hair, but you broke for air, watching with a smile as his lips chased yours. His evident need spurred you on, hand moving to rest against his chest and grip the pressed fabric of his shirt as you shared the air in the space between you.

“We shouldn’t be doing this.” He muttered half-heartedly, but his blown pupils and subtle smile told you differently.

“Do you want to come upstairs?”

The elevator ride was tense, hand gripped in his, half expecting him to run away, but as soon as your door was open, his lips smashed into yours once more. His hands explored your waist, pressing you to the now closed door, body touching yours slightly. His mouth was saying something different to his body language: lips hungry and needy, body cautious. You were more confident, hands falling to his back and pulling him as close as possible to you. He groaned in response, a low guttural sound that left you panting into his hot mouth. You wanted to gasp his name, but you realised you didn’t know it, embarrassment clouding your mind. You pushed it away immediately, hands snaking round his solid form to his tie, loosening it like a woman starved and throwing it to the side.

“Hey…” he muttered alongside a pant of your name, fingers tracing your face in a tender way, “are you sure you want this?”

“More than anything.” The answer fell from your lips without you even thinking about it. You needed him. He smiled against your lips, hands trailing from your waist to your hips, an invitation. You started to undo his shirt buttons, hands finally coming into contact with his warm skin, hips bucking towards his. A moment of insecurity washed over you. You were young, younger than him by a long way, and while it didn’t bother you, you couldn’t help but wonder if being with someone with so much less experience would bother him. He’d asked for your assurance twice now, and you had just assumed he wanted the same. Maybe he was just here so he didn’t lose his job…

“Is this what you want too?” You whispered, so shy and unsure you could feel the blush spreading across your cheeks.

“More than anything.” His fingers traced your lips, eyes meeting yours, and he must’ve sensed their slightly hesitant nature. “Since the minute you walked into my classroom, I’ve wanted this.” He smiled slightly sheepishly then, eyes flitting down to scan your form. “You were wearing cord flares and a white tee, leather jacket slung over your bag. You looked so confident, so excited to be in my class… you weren’t even looking at me yet, but I saw a glint in your eye that reminded me of myself in my youth. Everything about you intoxicated me from the moment I locked eyes with you. I want this.” The last statement was so final, so raw, you gave in fully. You smiled, looking deep into his eyes to see them unwavering.

“In that case..” you muttered, puling away from his just slightly, pulling your shirt over your head before unbuttoning your jeans, letting them fall to the floor. He stepped back while you were undressing, eyes darkening as they scanned your whole body with desire.

“Fuck…” he muttered the word quietly to himself, continuing to look you up and down in a way that made you blush profusely. He followed suit quickly, slowly undoing the rest of your shirt buttons with a slight smile. You couldn’t help but gaze half-lidded at his bare form, muscles rippling with every deep breath he took. “Where’s your room?”

Your bra and his trousers were long discarded, your bare form pressed to his as he laid above you, hand resting by your head, holding him up as he devoured your mouth. His kisses were getting lower, pressing against your neck and chest as you could do nothing but pant at his every touch.

“Sir, are you…” you didn’t even finish your question, words lost in your tongue as he bit down softly against the pillowy flesh of your breast, a groan escaping his lips against you at the name you had chosen in the heat of the moment.

“Shh..” the soft sound escaped his lips as he continued to move his lips lower until his fingers hooked your pantries, pulling them down slowly, savouring your squirming.

“What are you…” your words were lost yet again as his mouth enveloped your bare pussy, tongue pressing a firm stripe through your folds. You moaned loudly, the sensation enveloping you as you pressed your hips further towards his mouth. He hummed in satisfaction at the movements from you, hands gripping your hips tightly as your thighs surrounded his head. His tongue was expert, circling your clit with perfect precision and you bucked into him again with a whimper, desperate for some direct contact. He chuckled against you, smiling up between your thighs and you could’ve cum there from the sight of him.

“Relax…” he muttered, surly tone immediately forcing your muscles to loosen, pressing into the bed. His tongue flicked across your clit, and you squirmed, pants and whines filling the room as he continued his assault on your sensitive nerves. “Good girl…” his voice rumbled against your cunt, almost pushing you to the edge there and then.

“Please…” was all you could force out, words jumbling in your mind as the pleasure started to take over. One hand released from your hips, and you barely registered as two fingers pushed inside you, thick and deep. You groaned, an animalistic noise drawn from the back of your throat as he hit the spot inside you that made you sing. Every inch of your body was on fire with need as his fingers filled you, tongue continuing its relentless attack on your clit. You were all but an incoherent mess of moans and pants as he kept going, pleasure building and building close to the point of being too much, nerves burning with desire as he feasted on you like a man starved. It didn’t take long for your orgasm to arrive, fast and brutal, blinding you as your thighs squeezed around him, sobs and whines falling from your lips as you rode out the waves on his tongue.

By the time you had caught your breath, his face was an inch from yours, pressing sloppy kisses your jaw and neck. You whimpered softly, feeling the slick he had left between your thighs. You wrapped your legs around his, blinking up at him stupidly.

“I want you…” his lips cut you off, deep and passionate as your words were swallowed by hood’s mouth. He tasted like you.

“You have me. Body and soul.” Your heart leapt at the sentiment, hand brushing through his hair with affection.

“Then fuck me.”

He was pressed against your back, and was impossibly deep inside you, hitting that spot that made your back arch. His hand was tangled in your hair again, lips to your neck as he somehow pressed deeper, and your hand found his thigh, holding him there.

“You feel so good.” You whispered, fucked out and satisfied, already multiple organs in from his perfect cock.

“I’m close baby,” he muttered against your ear, grinding against your ass as you whined for him so beautifully. He fit so perfectly inside you it felt handcrafted, and he groaned softly as he pulled out quickly, slamming back inside as his hips started to stutter. “So pretty, so perfect for me…” his hand reached around to your used clit, pressing gentle circles as you cried out. You would do anything for him, but you were exhausted and overstimulated, a few tears brimming in your eyes at the bliss and pain it provided.

“Please..” you whispered for the uncountable time that night, hips backing into his as he groaned, deep and animalistic. Your orgasm washed over you as he finally came, moaning against your neck as his teeth clamped down carefully.

“So fucking perfect…”

You felt so effortlessly relaxed beside him, sleep encroaching quicker than it ever had. You were exhausted and spent, but happy. Everything you’d wanted for months but refused to admit to yourself had come true, and tomorrow, you’d have to face the reality of it all. But for now, you were at peace, head rested against his chest and feeling the gentle rise and fall of his breaths. Your slumber had started to take you, eyes fluttering closed, when you heard his voice speak softly, as though trying not to disturb you.

“I hope this moment last forever.” You thought confirming his sentiment would somehow diminish him, or scare him off, pretending your sleep had pulled you under, but your heart swelled in agreement. You never wanted to leave this place.

[theehorsepusssy]

The old hood

A. Cucina! Cucina! Was a shitty chain restaurant I managed at the Rose Garden arena (1997-2004) paid well, free food. I weighed nearly 300 lbs

B. Red Lion Hotel parking lot. Where I had to park on game days. Busted smoking pot out of a beer can with my boss. Huge rats and feral cats. Surprised I didn't get fired....or rabies.

C. Memorial Coliseum. I dropped The Red Hot Chili Peppers spaghetti take out order and had to run back to restaurant to replace. Took it back unaccompanied, was waved thru and wandered around backstage trying to find who to give it to. Nearly ended up on stage holding a take out pan of spaghetti during Give It AwayNow

D. Jags was a bar in the hotel where I would go play Video Poker when I was too tweaked to be around customers at my job. It eventually became a Detox center and sober house years later. Fucked a couple straight guys who liked to get freaky for meth hanging out near here

E. Budget motel. Had sleazy sex here a couple times in 90s

F. Warehouse where they held Mr Drummer leather 1990 maybe. my friend stood me up and I was alone.....on acid . There was a sex party afterward-$20 . Large room covered in unrolled black garbage bags. Coil's Hellraiser soundtrack played. I was tripping balls. Saw guys climbing up on a dudes wheelchair and face fucking him. Saw someone getting fisted for first time. Was told to leave while getting a titty twister from leather daddy. Years later, my friend turned the downstairs into Dirty Little Secret salon/spa and that stupid Eagles song "dirty little secret, dirty little lies, dirty little fingers in everybody's pies" gets stuck in my head and I think of the aforementioned fisting I witnessed

G. Walgreens I went to daily. Where to buy needles with a side of eye roll because I would confuse my insulin size order with the dope size other order. No ATM fees there.

H. Head Shop across from Franks Noodle House. Lousy meth pipe selection. If any. Dunno. I never smoked it always some trick would whine that they would only smoke and we'd end up here.

I. Lloyd Center mall. The bottom level bathroom was a decent place to poop when I was homeless for a while

J. The park I had registered as my "home" when I was homeless.

K. The hotel where I went to a Craigslist sex party and the host had a suitcase full of Ethyl Chloride cans and huffed so much we thought he died for a moment. Half the guys attending kept repeating " I'm straight, I've never done this before" I wish I had a camera

L. My mom worked here. I avoided these blocks for years, afraid of bumping into her while I was high

M. Tony Roma's Ribs. This was an occasional night out for me and Robert 1992-95. There used to be street whores on MLK back then

N. Hotel to party at. Call girls worked this one hard. You could still smoke in the rooms

O. The Red Robin I worked at for 2 weeks 1996. Worst job ever. I was told to learn to steal cuz no one tips. It was true

P. Courtyard Marriot. I would use lobby ATM for dope money if I was in a hurry. Met a online hookup there many years earlier who used a fake pic. Got there and dude was like 500lbs and asks if I can give him some meth and i ask how much he want to spend and fat boy gets all cheap and wants free and I'm thinking if I want to try and rob him before a moment of clarity and I leave

Q. The McDonald I got "groceries" at the last year I was using. I ate maybe once a week. I weighed 150lbs. It's by a Burger King that never had any customers the 20 years I was in the area. Is it a mirage? Is it haunted? Is it a money laundering front?

R. The 7/11 where I bought Camel Lights and Diet Mt Dew everyday. The old owners would whip out their shotguns when robbed. The new owners just let the robbers take the money

S. The seminary and Catholic church. You would see priests with unaccompanied minors at the Wendys across street. Suspicious. One night I was out smoking a cigarette and all the Catholics came marching out of the church playing Jesus dress up for Easter and the parade passed me and one dude thought I looked destitute and whipped out some cash for me and all Bless You my child or some shit. I was gonna give it back but went up to 7/11 for cigarettes and Diet Mt Dew. Thanks Jesus!

T. The Merrick. Casa de Horsepussy 2009-2016. 90% of all those old pics I post are on that block

U. Serene Court (a.k.a. Syringe Court) apartments.Used to be cheapest apartments in downtown area when I first moved here. Was exotic to cross the river from downtown proper to buy a bag of crank in this spooky old place

V. The Yards. I had an employee who sold pot lived here. I had to fire him. It was awkward as fuck

W. The Greyhound station was where to find heroin from someone who sold to someone I knew. Probably an open fent market these days

X. The Main Post Office. I had a meth dealer 2002ish that would mail tweak to NYC cuz those people would pay ridiculous price for an 8ball. He would get nervous about going in saying he was too high and have me mail it. Only later did he tell me what was in package

Y. Fancy loft area where one time I was having very intense drug induced roll play sex with some guy and he was veering into some script where I was his wife who drugged his beer and yeah, ok but then I think he just wanted a beer but it was all blurred reality with the sex game and I put 2 Zyprexa in his beer bottle and dude went down...hard. I had to dress him and get him back to his loft but he was practically dead from the sedatives and I didn't know where he lived exactly and just kind of rolled him out the car onto the curb off Lovejoy and sped off at 4am.

Z. My dad worked at some building under the 405. I lived a few blocks up the street and would find other routes to walk to the arena for fear of running into him

[astonmartinii]

hiii i was wondering if u could one where the reader is a scientist with lewis??

p.s ur amazing!!!!

raw chemistry | lewis hamilton instagram au

pairing: scientist!reader x lewis hamilton

in which a mercedes driver has unbelievable chemistry with a chemist

yourusername

liked by yourbff and 2,089 others

yourusername: the two sides of the (work? staff-bonding?) trip

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yourbff so fucking jealous of you

yourusername gotta make up for all those hours somehow

yourbff2 only you would find the cheesy chips at the monaco grand prix

mercedesamgf1

liked by georgerussell63, danielricciardo and 883,067 others

tagged: lewishamilton

mercedesamgf1: yet another win for lewis in monaco ✨

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user23 mega, mega shift from hamilton today

lewishamilton couldn't do it without everyone in the garage and back at the factory!

user64 this man is uncapable of not slaying

georgerussell63 huge shift 💪

user55 so so clear of the entire grid

f1gossipgirl

liked by user33, f1stan88 and 404 others

f1gossipgirl: lewis hamilton finally off the market? the world champion was spotted getting up close and personal with a mystery girl who is potentially in the second slide? do we think it'll last or is it just a post win romp?

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user90 we just taking pics of random people and creating drama now?

user35 my parasocial relationship in crisis but also am happy for lewis i'm going insane

user11 monaco does something to people i swear

yourusername

liked by yourbff, lewishamilton and 4,189 others

yourusername: back to the office 🧬

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yourbff smart and pretty - leave something for the rest of us

yourusername says you

lewishamilton you must be barium and beryllium cause you're a total babe?

yourusername i'm blushing ☺️ (did you google this?)

lewishamilton you're welcome ;) (yes i did)

user34 HELLO WHAT IS THIS ???

lewishamilton added to their story

yourusername

liked by yourbff, lewishamilton and 5,609 others

yourusername: happy people, happy times

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yourbff an invite to anything at this point would be nice

yourusername you complained the whole time last time

yourbff you people are the most insufferable (affectionate) people to third wheel

lewishamilton 🏄‍♀️ 🏄‍♂️

yourusername best teacher ever

mercedesamgf1

liked by lewishamilton, georgerussell63 and 603,451 others

mercedesamgf1: lewis and george are having fun this summer break ☀️

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user44 ADMIN JUST EXPOSED LEWIS AND HIS GF??

user58 so is admin losing their job ? i'll miss you xx

user89 f1 twitter is about to go into melt down

this post has been deleted

yourusername

liked by georgerussell63, lewishamilton and 10,781 others

tagged: lewishamilton

yourusername: you could say we have chemistry ;)

view all 2,077 comments

lewishamilton who is using cheesy science puns now ?

yourusername are you an element cause i'd like to periodically bang you on a table

lewishamilton time and a place

georgerussell63 THERE ARE CHILDREN IN THIS COMMENT SECTION

alex_albon COVER YOUR EYES GEORGE

user33 i actually can't this relationship is so cute

user30 was originally scared about this relationship but if we get all this lewis content from it i can't be angry

lewishamilton

liked by georgerussell63, yourusername and 1,209,877 others

tagged: yourusername

lewishamilton: forget hydrogen, you're my number one element xx

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yourusername is this our thing now? if so, you make me hotter than sulfur hydroxide mixed with ethyl acetate.

lewishamilton okay i actually don't know what that means but i love you xx

yourusername i love you too xx

user50 lewis trying to use science pick up lines is taking me out actually

sebastianvettel congratulations you guys !!

lewishamilton thanks seb

yourusername thank you sebastian, i've heard about your impressive bee garden - will need to visit soon x

mercedesamgf1 mum and dad

user77 admin kept their job?

mercedesamgf1

liked by pierregasly, georgerussell63 and 1,112,099 others

tagged: yourusername, lewishamilton

mercedesamgf1: new paddock mum and dad just dropped *insert a science pun here*

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yourusername i'm the solution to all of the grid kid problems

lewishamilton not your best, love

yourusername you're hardly helping

lewishamilton i'm not the scientist here

landonorris mum and dad please stop fighting

yourusername see lewis why won't you think of the children

lewishamilton they're not children, i've heard about the things they get up too

alex_albon no we've factually never done anythign ever

georgerussell63 i second this

note: hope this was the kinda thing you were thinking, sorry for how long it took, life got unexpectedly busy out of nowhere. also, i barely passed gcse science so i hope it makes sense lol xx

[primiparous]

was going through the severance s2 episode titles. i have explanations for each of them, but initially wasn’t sure what to make of episode 8, “sweet vitriol.”

episode 7 (“chikhai bardo”) will likely be spending a lot of time in mark’s head based on the title. since this will immediately follow that, i figure we’ll still be working with either his reintegration or the details of gemma’s situation (since episode 9’s title is “the after hours”). in any case, it seems we’ll be getting pretty medical.

“sweet oil of vitriol” was what diethyl ether was called when it was first synthesized. diethyl ether was used as a surgical anesthetic in the 19th and early 20th centuries. its anesthetic properties were discovered through “ether frolics,” parties where attendees recreationally drank diethyl ether and were observed to injure themselves without feeling/caring.

on that note, here’s one of the posters in the break room (from the artist’s instagram):

the following two pictures depict nitrous oxide parties rather than ether frolics, but both occurred at the same time and place. with that in mind, check out how similar the vibes of these illustrations are to the frolic poster:

back to naming conventions: diethyl refers to a molecule with 2 ethyl groups. here’s what diethyl ether looks like:

it’s a balanced molecule, meaning each atom has its match on the other side and has all of its needs met. i’m thinking this could indicate something about reintegration, or what we’ll be seeing of it in episode 8.

whatever this “sweet vitriol” business is all about, diethyl ether is an obsolete surgical anesthetic, so i’d wager it’s linked to the early days of the severance procedure. kier eagan’s “twin brother” was supposedly named dieter eagan. if he was a severed half of kier, a shortened version of the term “diethyl ether” seems like it’d be an apt enough name for the guy.

that’s all i’ve got. thought it was interesting.

[stvlti]

No but seeing that post again got me thinking about the science behind Jaime's bugsuit just conjuring things out of his dead skin cells and sweat

Because you can't just make anything out of your body's waste products. There are specific chemicals that can't be found in your body - or at least, not in large amounts - that are used to make certain objects.

The printer paper for the picture, I can understand. Paper is largely made of carbon anyway so that tracks (lots of carbon / carbonate type of chemicals can be found in a human body).

But his clothes? Stuff like cotton and polyester are all made up of polymers, and once we get into polymers you're talking ester, amine, alcohol, etc. Traces of amine and alcohol can be found in a normal human body, but how much can you really extract from dead skin and sweat alone? Unless Jaime is drinking ethanol (ethyl alcohol) on the regular, it's not gonna be in his sweat all the time. As for ester, it can be found in lipids / fatty acids, which could be found on human skin in the oils produced there, but again, unless Jaime is sweating loads and loads it's not enough to create full clothes out of it.

Assuming that Khaji Da has the ability to break down certain chemicals and polymerise these chemical compounds to generate papers and fabrics — you'd still need a large enough supply of said chemicals in first place, and I don't believe Jaime's body produces enough of them in just his dead skin cells and sweat alone.

The only explanation here is that Khaji carries its own reserves of certain chemicals, which they extract not just from Jaime's bodily waste but from their surroundings as well.

Tl;dr, I believe Khaji, and by extension Jaime, is a walking laboratory storage cupboard full of various chemicals.

[cowboy-robooty]

Everyone.... my yaoi.. tch. It has been slacking to say the least. This is not only because I haven’t drawn in forever (recently been too obsessed with drawing ten thousand carbon rings with little methyl and ethyl groups and amides and amines and esters and alcohol groups and a bunch of other b-b-b-b-BULLSHIT. SO KAWAII!!!!!! ^u^ ………. no that’s a lie. fuck ochem). I also haven’t been dedicating myself enough to the craft. You can only learn so much from observation alone. It’s like that one TedEd video about a scenario where a person researches everything there is to be known about the color red but is colorblind and then one day they can actually see the color red for the first time and uhhh i dont really know what happens next because i watched like 5 minutes of it before getting bored and going outside to put pistachio shells face down and rubbing it on the ground really fast with my foot before putting it on my brother’s skin. That shit hurts like a bitch I have no clue how the shell becomes hot like that its honestly amazing.

Anyways I read an inordinate amount of yaoi as you all already know but it simply is not enough. I’ve hit a bottleneck in my research my qi is trapped in my meridians and my golden core is rotting away……. Do not fret though.

“The first step to solving any problem is to recognize there is a problem to begin with���

- Kafka

In the past week I have realized that I must fully immerse myself (roosterteeth style) to break through this halt in progress… That is to say,

I HAVE BECOME A MEMBER IN THE EXPERIMENT.

I hope this will lead to sustained improvement in my work….. so far the results have been immediate and incredible. I am learning so much everyday I think I understand what it feels to be a Xiaolin Monk utop a very foggy Chinese mountain with a beautiful waterfall that flows down it… and in the morning if you look on the undersides of the lotus blossoms, the dew appears like specks of jade.

Do you understand? I do. 😏

That is all for now….. I will continue to work hard at my research. For the glory of Itager nation and all of yaoikind. I’m excited to share with you the fruits of my labor. I was in a deep dark pregnency for over a year… but now labor has come and my Beautiful BL (BBL) child will be born! It’s the birth of monte cristo!

Or well… I guess you could say Christmas came early *angel emoji*

[senorablack]

Big Boy Purchases

Words: 1028 Rating: General Audiences Relationships: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson Additional Tags: Domestic Fluff, Humor, adulting like pros Summary: Our boys buy some things for their house. That's it, that's the fic.

Leather looks nice and it’s comfortable as hell, but it’ll be a pain in the ass come summer. “But it’d be metal as fuck.” Eddie argues. “It’s, I don’t know, impractical. Come on, man, three seats? Nah, at least if we get the brown sectional we have more space annndd we could pull off the cover to wash it.”  “Expect a lot of fluids to sully our couch, aye, Stephen?” Eddie squints. “It’s Steve.” He replies, then walks Eddie to the sofa in question. “And yeah, you’re the clumsiest person I know. And we’ve both met Robin.” “God said, you can only have good hand-eye coordination or those deviant, sinful genes that makes a guy wanna blow another in the parking lot of a Piggly Wiggly. Not both.” “Is guy suppose to be you?” Steve asks with a raise brow. The back of Eddie’s knees are at the edge of the sofa. “Duh, man, I’m the most clumsiest person I know. And we’ve both met Robin.” “Cute.” Steve says, and all but throws Eddie into the cushions.  Eddie whimpers. Melts. Groans so inappropriately that Steve has to kick him in the shin to get him to simmer down. “Dude, this is a family place so would you keep it g-rated?” “Out of body right now. Leave a message.” Eddie closes his eyes, takes a deep breath. “After. The. Beeeeeeep.” “So?”  “I concede. I surrender. I god damn yield.” Eddie says. “Is this—am I dead?” “See? Imagine kicking off your shoes after a long day of running around the restaurant.” “God? Is that you?” “No, but I get that a lot.” This opens Eddie’s eyes. He frowns. Shakes his head. “Nah, man, you can do better than that.” “What I keep telling myself, but for some reason I still keep you around.” Steve says, offering Eddie a hand up. Eddie takes it and immediately pulls him into a side hug. “Atta-boy.”

Quilt and wood? That’s summer camp. That’s visits down at the his parent’s lakehouse for the Fourth of July. That’s grandma sneaking you her kitchen sink cookies when your parents aren’t looking. It’s stealing whatever you can find from the linen closet and making forts in front of Saturday morning cartoons. It’s a—

“Hell no.” Eddie scoffs.

“Dude, can’t beat a classic.”

“Its antiquity is not being questioned here, Harrington.” Eddie says, face scrounged up in disgust.

“Why are you shitting on all my suggestions?”

“Because we’re two young twenty-somethings who binge drink on Thursdays, and not Ethyl and fuckin’ Bethyl settling down from a wild night of bingo at Cedarwood Senior Home.”

Steve crosses his arms and mutters, “I was just joking about the floral print pillowcases.”

“Okay, yeah, you’re done. My turn.“ 

Eddie doesn’t give Steve the chance to protest. After a quick peruse around the selection of comforters, Eddie finds a dark grey one with light grey stripes. It’s thick and heavy, and looks soft as hell.

Steve, still sore about being knock down, doesn’t say that though.

“If this was up to you, our bed would be on the ground with two sheets and a pillow we have to fight over.” Steve says. 

Eddie turns on him and cocks his head to the side. Narrows his eyes. Steve glares.

“You forget to eat or something?” Eddie asks.

“Fuck off.” Steve pushes at his shoulder. 

“Will a Swedish meatball calm you down?” 

“The blanket, Eddie.”

Eddie grabs Steve by the wrist and places his hand on the display comforter.

“What’dya think?” Eddie asks.

He rubs a bit of its cloth against his cheek. Steve pulls off, giving the hovering department attendant an apologetic smile. 

“I dunno…” Steve says, but he can’t keep up the lie.

“It’s simple. It’s practical. It’s like, so nondescript that it’s almost a statement.” Eddie says in a rush.

“That sentence meant nothing but we’ll circle back to that,” Steve says and is at a loss, because it’s nice. It is. And he really doesn’t want to agree.

“Fine, it’s not bad.” He says.

“Not bad is as good as a maybe. And sweetheart, your maybes always lean yes with the right push.”

“Calling me a push-over, Munson?”

“Course not, man.” Eddie says, throwing in their new bedding into their basket. “I’d never.”

-

He isn’t sure that’ll fit, but he wants it real bad. It’s silly, but he even thinks that he’s never wanted anything this badly. Which means he’s officially an adult. With adult appetites. It’s gross how much he’s excited.

“How bad,” Steve asks between pants, “do you want it?” 

They are both soaked and out of breath. And no matter what, it’s just not going in.

“Well, if you’d grab a better hold of that leg…” Eddie tries, but he’s also struggling. They both pause their work.

“Look, I know I talk big game, but I feel like my body is on fire back here, man, can’t we just—“

“Thought you said you could go aaaaall afternoon, big boy?”

“That was before I knew it was going to be ninety-eight degrees out.” 

“What if it like, warps, or I dunno, fades in the sun while we’re gone?”

Steve groans and tugs off his shirt. Eddie watches because who the hell is going to stop him?Steve’s not wrong, it’s fucking searing out, but he really is worried about their new purchase. Sure Steve was the one to find it, but Eddie was the one that had to have it—it being this ridiculously long, 6-person, solid walnut table that could extend out to 8. It’s everything he wanted in a dining table and a son of bitch puzzle to get into the damn house. Once they figure it out, he’s drafting up a new campaign. 

“Okay, okay. We just have to adopt a new strategy. We take off the table legs. Then it’s extender pieces. And boom.” Steve says, and then points at Eddie before he can argue, “But boom after beer break.”

Eddie ties up his hair. Most of it falls back down again. He gestures for Steve to walk before him with a hand out and a deep bow. 

“Boom after beer break.” He sighs.

[officialbruciewayne]

B THIS IS SUPER IMPORTANT! Do you know if space has a scent to it? I'm trying to do an experiment but... I don't know how to go about exploring that since I can't breathe in space. If I knew where superman is I'd ask him but you're the next best option I could think of.

This really depends on what part of space you're in. If you're still around a spacecraft, seared metal is pretty typical. It's thought the vacuum of space pulls off metal particles. However, there are limited odorants in a vacuum.

That said, the center of our galaxy is presumed to smell faintly of rum and taste of raspberries due to ethyl formate found in Sagittarius B2.

[rin-henricov]

if stork has outdated knowledge on birth, or on anything medical, if the storm hawks got a medic on the team with modern knowledge how would stork feel about them and would he go to them constantly about deceases or rashes he thinks he has or would he have them train him in medical knowledge? basically how would feel or act around them?

At first, he would have been very envious, seeing that the squadron now listened more to the opinion of a qualified specialist than to his own. He might also have suspected that his team had decided to replace him with a more useful ally, which might have led to a small conflict.

Even if they had reconciled, Stork would still have been skeptical, but he would have tried to hide it by saying that he was «extremely thorough» in making the right diagnosis. He would also be eager to take every opportunity to demonstrate his competence in this area and prove that he is much more knowledgeable in medicine than a new crew member.

Stork probably wouldn't have been able to resist competing directly with them and would have tried to outdo them at every opportunity, especially in front of the others. But, in the end, the pilot will inevitably turn to them for help when it is necessary. It might be a few months before merb admits this, but in time, he'll realize how valuable the new healer is to their team.

When Stork lived underground, most merbian villages were completely cut off from modern medicine. Residents had to rely exclusively on the services of local healers, which repeatedly led to high mortality among the population. In an environment where atmosian monsters could suddenly fall into the ground, and the frequency of underground earthquakes did not give any rest, the villagers were especially vulnerable (partially compare this time with the dashing nineties after the collapse of the USSR). Stork had only a handful of medical information at his disposal when he decided to delve more deeply into the exact sciences.

The atlases on pathological anatomy were limited editions, but Stork treasured them like no one else, knowing that he would never have another chance to escape from the village (until his father shattered his illusions about the cruel reality by forcing him to sign his first hunting contract). Some of these books he still keeps in his bookcase, having chosen the thickest binding for them, since the previous covers did not stand the test of time. In between missions, the pilot sometimes takes out this books and flips through the yellowed pages, plunging into memories of the distant past.

In the previous headcanon, I mentioned that merbs do not tolerate alcohol well (except for those who have immunity), so they actively use only ethyl alcohol in the industry. When the squadron accidentally discovers a secret compartment with many strange phials, Stork will have to work hard to explain to them that this is not exactly what they might think.

In general, ethanol is not only the main component of alcoholic beverages. It can also be used as a powerful depressant - a psychoactive substance that has a depressing effect on the human central nervous system. This may be one of the reasons why Stork is constantly in a depressed state, which negatively affects the overall functioning of the brain. But I also do not rule out that excessive use of depressants may be the result of prolonged self-torture, because of which Stork may lock himself in his cabin for a long time and not let anyone near him. Such episodes are infrequent, but nevertheless, their regularity raises serious concerns among Storm Hawks.

They should hurry up before the amount of ethanol consumed exceeds the daily norm.

[himboadvocate]

It’s not hard to romance Astarion while also being a hero.

In fact, the man is ACTIVELY trying to seduce the Tav. If you need help upping your approval with the internet’s vampire boyfriend while only doing marginally questionable things I’ve got you.

I swear you guys are just either not resting enough or exploring enough before the tiefling party. REST PERIODICALLY. Partial rest is a thing if you’re low on supplies, you won’t get spell slots back but you’ll get them CUT SCENES IN.

Ask Lae'zel to say please when you rescue her

make the tiefling dude bow to her. (He was making assumptions about her based on her race, I don’t feel bad about this.)

tell auntie ethyl everything about the parasite when you meet her in the grove.

bully the mirror in the basement in the blighted village (if you fail that check there’s a flamey orb thing that happens which sort of sucks but like... also the coffin immediately to the right has a scroll of Quasit that summons a little asshole named shovel, have a spell caster summon him and you have a little murder buddy forever, the rest of the coffins just have undead in them)

Tell Raphael to take you back and that you’re not making any deals with him when you meet him the first time

agree to help Karlach

go down to the cursed forest place and tell the brothers they're on their own to find their sister (help the sister anyway)

Talk to a redcap on the way to auntie ethyl’s and when they baah at you, baah back.

When you go down into auntie ethyl's little secret place, scare the guy who's already scared shitless and thinks you're a mind flayer (this one's iffy morals wise but there's no consequences)

go up the path to the left of auntie ethyl's house and don't rat Astarion out to the Gur, then murder him together.

let the guy hit you with a mace in the goblin camp (do it 3 times and you'll have a nice buff for the rest of the game)

Go to the guy that’s being tortured and say you’ll do the torturing, then immediately turn and kill the goblins in the area instead.

Let him bite you, Shadowheart can fix the bloodless debuff with lesser restoration.

Stand up for him when the others distrust him, tell them they can leave if they don’t like it. He really just wants someone, anyone, to stand up for him because that's never happened before

Do this stuff *before* the tiefling party and the man should have already come begging.

[lonelychicago]

wip wednesday

tagged by: @alyxmastershipper @comaboybuck @buddierights @spotsandsocks @buddiearemydads @ebdaydreamer thanks for the tags loves! 💗

this is from my fake dating fic!

"Hey there, cowboy." Buck walks towards him with a dopey, boyish grin, a cowboy hat resting on his head. 

"Where the hell did you get that?" He ignores the rapid pounding of his heart and the nervous itch under his skin at the sight. 

"Your cousin Enrique gave it to me." Buck chuckles as he comes to a stand next to him, their shoulders brushing. "He told me I need to get the whole Texan experience." 

The way he says it makes Eddie's eyes shoot up, and Buck throws him a wink. 

"Listen," Eddie clears his throat. "Thank you for doing this. I—"

"Thank me after we get out of this alive." Buck leans forward, his face just a few inches away from Eddie's, he has a conspiratorial glint in his eyes and his cheeks are flushed— Eddie should get an award for how strong he's being right now, seriously. It takes everything in him not to close the gap between them and kiss Buck right then and there. 

He could do it, though, with the excuse of people watching. They need to keep the charade, right? 

"What?" 

"Yeah, your sister Adriana has asked me like a million questions and I half think she's plotting my murder." Buck widens his eyes. "And your tío Rolo keeps passing me drinks." Buck whispers. "The man is trying to put me in an ethylic coma or something, Eddie."

tagging: @cowboy-buddie @cowboy-buck @the-likesofus @monsterrae1 @prettyboybuckley @rogerzsteven @messyhairdiaz @fatedbuddie @hippolotamus @shortsighted-owl @swiftiebuckleys @maygrantgf @lesbianmaygrant @honestlydarkprincess @bigfootsmom @elvensorceress @bekkachaos and anyone else who wants to!

[dissvicious]

Long time ago there was like, a Tumblr or Twitter post of someone saying how their girlfriend was gone for the weekend so they were going to cut the sleeves off all of their(not the girlfriend's) t-shirts. And when asked why they said the girlfriend was their impulse control. And I randomly thought of it seeing punk Buggy and immediately thought Buggy would do that if Red wasn't there to stop him (because maybe he'd end up doing it to her shirts as well and maybe there are some shirts she wants the sleeves on, Buggy!!)

Just a thought because I think of your OCs as much as I think of my own 😅 🧡

Honestly I think that when Reddie go away for a moment Buggy just drunk himself to ethylic coma, remember this

... however I think that what you said applies well to Blaze. when both reddie and skye (because Skye is his impulse control too) are away he's just... uncontrollable.

Go feed your OC now they're hungry!!!

[heroes-of-lemuria]

Sits down. I think that Lucy and Ethyl, those platypus housewives from the Sky City side quest that are so passive aggressive to eachother are cheating on their husbands with eachother and doing toxic yuri things to eachother. Andddd post