dr boyfriend

┃┃╱╲ in
┃╱╱╲╲ this
▔▏┗┛▕▔ we
do not get mad at maria for hugging michael because they’re friends, shannon, and nothing more and please stop being ~~overprotective uwu~~ of michael because he would never cheat on you (please don’t doubt his loyalty in the process; it just makes you look bad) and also maria also has fans who understand that both maria and michael are good soft beans who would never betray you and cheat on you so basically just don’t threaten maria who has never done anything wrong in her life
╱╱┏┳┓╭╮┏┳┓ ╲╲


Star Trek: Discovery S01 E07  “Magic to Make the Sanest Man Go Mad”

Lt. Paul Stamets openly talking about falling in love with his boyfriend Dr. Hugh Culber without it being used as a plot device, and being an openly gay couple was worthy of Star Trek history in itself. But to then also see two women dancing in the background of a party, being just simply shown as two people in love. Enjoying themselves like any other member of the crew. That was beautiful. 

To Boldy Go indeed. 

literature meme [2/8 plays]

Doctor Faustus (The Tragical History of the Life and Death of Doctor Faustus), Christopher Marlowe

Faustus is a brilliant but embittered scholar who has exhausted the confines of human knowledge. Frustrated with the futility of his academic pursuits he is desperate for a deeper understanding of the universe. Therefore, he conjures the demon Mephistopheles and asks him to strike a deal with the Devil. Faustus gets twenty-four years of infinite knowledge and power in exchange for his soul, which will spend an eternity in hell once his time is up.

gczebos  asked:

( can we get a fluffy ass sequel to I'm Never Going to Watch You Die with med student!Richie studying for all of his big tests and graduating and Eddie being proud af??? )

Womp womp here it is, baby💕

Your Breathing is the Reason

“Remind me again what these exams are for exactly?” Eddie asked as he tangled himself in the white cotton sheets of their queen-sized bed, wearing nothing but black cotton short-shorts and Richie’s knitted white sweater.
Rain was pounding against the large window that the bed was under, it seemed that the storm had been brewing for weeks and had, so far, lasted all day. It was late in the evening now, the storm and the night leaving the shadows of the dim room long and dark. The only illumination came from a small desk lamp Richie used when he was studying at the old splintered desk they kept in the far corner and the lit tea-candles that cover the entirety of the top of Eddie’s dresser.
“These exams determine my qualifications and, more or less, my capabilities and whether or not I’ll be accepted into residency.”
Eddie groaned and further tangled himself into the sheets, continuing to stare at his boyfriend. “How much longer are you gonna be, Rich?” Eddie had been out shopping with Beverly most of the day and Richie decided to stay in and study, the taller brunette hadn’t moved from the desk, not even to put on a shirt or change out of his black sweats.
Richie was still sitting in the dark chair that had come with the splintered desk and Eddie took a moment to admire the man in front of him, his hair had grown out and was curling around the base of his neck and almost hung over his eyes now, both men had grown fond of the soft, unruly locks.
His glasses were always falling down the narrow bridge of his freckled nose and he was currently hunched over Steven E. Weinberger’s ‘Principals of Pulmonary Medicine’, studying for next months final exams.
“I am-” Richie started before pulling out his pen and jotting down a point in the notebook he keeps open on the desk, “done. I’m done.”
Richie picked up a Polaroid of Ben and Mike that Eddie had taken just last week and used it to mark his place in his book.
As he stood up from the chair and stretched, Richie’s knees and back cracked loudly causing both men to visibly wince.
“Come to bed, baby,” Eddie whispered into the quiet air of their small apartment.
Richie smiled small and slowly spread himself out on the soft bed that Eddie was inhabiting. The smaller boy instantly curled into Richie’s side, his head resting on his shoulder and his hand dancing across the fleshy planes of Richie’s chest.
Curls cascaded around Richie’s head and flowed like a black stream against the white cotton pillow case. Richie’s dark eyes stared at the ceiling above the boys shared bed and Eddie, who was ecstatic that his lifelong lover had finally decided to join him, moved his body until his lips could be placed comfortably against the taller mans pale neck.
“Ed’s, if you’re trying to get some it’s working.”

After the rain had stopped, after all of Eddie’s tea candles had to be replaced, after all the books were read and the exams taken and passed, Eddie watched Richie walk across the stage, the goofiest smile on his mans face.
“Dr. Richard Tozier.”
Tears welled in Eddie’s eyes and Beverly (who also had tears cascading down her freckled cheeks) grabbed the package of tissues she brought with her from Stan (also crying) and handed them to Eddie.
Richie signed his name Richard Tozier M.D for the first time, moved his tassel from right to left and, like magic, became a doctor.
Needless to say, Eddie, Beverly and Stan ran out of tissues before the night was over.
“I’m so p-proud of you, Trashmouth,” Bill had whispered to Richie as the Loser’s bathed in the after party’s atmosphere.
“That’s Dr. Trashmouth to you, Big Bill,” Richie laughed but threw his arms around his lanky friend.

In a scene almost identical to the one that had taken place months prior, Eddie attached to Richie’s side on their queen sized bed, Richie was running his hands along Eddie’s small body, both men glowing as the world around them became silent.
“God, I love you so much, Eddie Kaspbrak.”
“I love you too, Dr. Tozier.”
Richie’s hands stopped moving and he pulled away from Eddie’s body. The smaller man’s smile faltered slightly before Richie turned onto his side and moved in close until Eddie’s nose bumped against Richie’s freckled one with every inhalation.
“Your breathing is the reason I became a doctor, Ed’s,” Richie whispered as he ran his hand up and down Eddie’s back, the only other sound in the room being the crack and spit of the burning wicks from vanilla scented candles, “I want to spend and waste all of my breath on you for the rest of my life.” Eddie threaded his hands into Richie’s hair. “Marry me.”
Eddie pulled the vulnerable man closer to him, completely tangling them together, and Eddie rested his forehead against Richie’s and let tears travel down his flushed cheeks. “But Rich-”
“I don’t care,” Richie said, “I don’t care if us getting married isn’t legal in New York. I don’t care if other people know, I just wanna know that you want to become Dr. and Mr. Richard Tozier, you know, like a cool power couple.”
Eddie looked up, tears poured from his eyes while fear welled in Richie’s. “Of course,” he whispered, his voice breaking, “Of course.”
Eddie leaned forward and attached his lips to Richie’s as the other mans steady hands moved to wipe the tears from Eddie’s face.

Abuse your position as a lecturer to groom young women? I'll let your boss know.

TL;DR at the bottom!

Sooo imma just lay the facts on the table: I was in a relationship with my ex university lecturer for 3 years. (U.K. Based, Catholic University FYI). Lets call him Puke. My relationship with Puke started after I graduated so as far as I was concerned we were just two normal adults with a bit of an age gap getting together.

Although I was aware that he had dated one student previous to me, I genuinely believed that Puke and I had something special and our relationship was a bit of a case of Star crossed lovers. (Or not even that, cos we’re all adults here, right?)

Keep reading

Dr!Tim Drabble: Meet and Greet


When the knock sounds, his vigilante boyfriends put on a whole different type of mask.

And, you know, not one over their eyes.

“It’s really okay if you don’t want to do this,” he placates easily, meaning it while he sets the table. “You two don’t have to. It’s okay, really. I mean…” he raises both hands to mimic a mask around his eyes. Secret idents and such.

Dick just gives him that killer smile, wide and white. Jason answers that shit by turning from the stove long enough to sweep him up for one last kiss right on the mouth.

“Coming!” Dick sing-songs at the knock, making his way to their door in comfortable old jeans and a ratty-looking t-shirt, and Jay turns back to the stove with a fond look.

His grin is huge and charming when he opens up for the confident Steph and tentative Layla on the other side.

“Hello! You must be Stephanie and Layla, I’ve heard so much about you…”

With care and a natural big brother aura, Dick ushers them inside, taking their coats, introducing himself. He laughs when Layla launches herself at Tim, climbing him like a tree and crooning at her favorite Uncle.

“Uncle Tim! Uncle Tim! We’re finally going to dissect frogs, I’m so excited I can hardly wait!”

“Mmhm,” unconcerned, he grips one of her calves while continuing to set the table, “don’t be too hard on it after you get him open, frogs have terrible diets, you know.”

“I know!”

Steph takes a minute to shake Dick’s hand and give him a well-meaning, “nice to meet you. Hurt my best friend, and I’ll get out the best set of sharp scalpels I own. You don’t want to mess with someone that makes a living puzzling out the weakest spots in the human body.”

Once the table is flawless, Tim and Layla face Jason, smelling the incredible dinner he’s pulling out with My Favorite Zombie oven mitts.

“Names Jay, Small Fry, nice ta meet ‘cha.”

The young girl gasps, holding on to Tim’s head with her legs dangling carelessly over his shoulders.

Jay gives her his trademark shit-eating-grin and puts one finger over his lips with a wink.

The smart kid immediately gets it (she’s grown up in Gotham, so she definitely knows). She grins back widely to show the missing tooth in her smile.

“Hi Jay!” She returns loudly, sticking out a hand, “I’m Layla. It’s nice to meet you, too.”

When Jay shakes her hand, she pointedly glances down at his knuckles and back up to his face. They might share a conspiratorial nod and Tim laughs softly as the monkey shimmies down his back and immediately squirrels her way up Jason’s to perch on his broad shoulders instead.

Steph blinks in amazement at her daughter sitting comfortably, munching on the bits Jay feeds her while Dick leads her to the table and regales her with stories of his circus days and Tim moves between helping Jason with hot rolls and coming back to the table for Dick to throw a casual arm around his waist and open his mouth for bits of dinner. Layla moves on to what she’s doing in English class, telling Jay about Bridge to Terabithia and gives him every ounce of attention when he starts quoting his favorite lines.

Tim refills Steph’s coffee and puts the bowl of corn on the table (and no, he doesn’t get red in the face when Dick gropes him discreetly without even a pause).

At some point, Layla is watching astounded as Dick walks easily on his hands and swings from the light fixtures (that were strangely reinforced some time ago, wonder when that happened, sheesh). The acrobat has Layla balanced on one foot, promising Steph he’s a professional, so it’s absolutely fine for him to do this at home.

Jay charms her with his old Gotham accent and the softness in his eyes when he leans over to press a gentle kiss on Tim’s forehead, handing over the baked ham to go on the table.

Half-way through dinner, the question inevitably comes out.

“So,” Layla looks from Dick to Jay, biting on her lower lip, “which one of you is dating Uncle Tim?”

Hiding her grin with a napkin, Steph (since she really wants to hear this answer) sits back to watch the two oldest exchange a panicked glance, wondering what the hell they’re going to tell Timmy’s niece.

“They both are,” Tim tells her easily, “I’m too much of a handful for just one of them, so they both look after me.”

This apparently makes perfect sense to the kid, who puts down her cup and gives him a grave look that is completely ruined by the milk mustache, “that’s so true, Uncle Tim, you are a handful.” She sighs over at Dick and Jay, like she absolutely sympathizes, “really, you two. Good luck. You’re going to need it.”

Dick’s eyes get huge and he bites down on his lower lip so he doesn’t bust out. Jay, however, gives no shits and unabashedly laughs out loud at Tim’s affronted expression. Steph doesn’t spit out her coffee, but it’s a close thing. She does choke for a minute or two between gurgled giggles.

You just eat your carrots, young lady. Jay worked really hard to make sure they taste good.”

Aw, Uncle Tim!

“Nope. Eat your vegetables.”

He goes back to his own plate, cheeks pleasantly pink and complete exasperated (because he’s really not that bad, Layal, c’mon), pretending not to see their dopey smiles. He takes a bite of his own carrots to be a good example.

Steph, however, waits until Tim and Layla are on dish duty and she’s accepted one more cup of coffee in the living room, out of range of little ears.

“You’ll take care of him,” and it isn’t a question. “You’ll make sure no bad guys find out who he is to you. You will protect him.” The or else is right there in the open.

Jay and Dick exchange another brief eye slide and give Stephanie Brown their full attention. It only takes a breath, a second, for the two of them to change. For the masks to come over them, and for her to realize these two men are very, very dangerous people. (Not that she gives a damn because they’re going to take care of Tim, or she’s going to bide her time and pick the right moment to strike.)

“We will protect him,” Dick makes it a vow, his voice low and gravelly, his blue eyes sharp in the light.

“Good. You might be Gotham’s good guys, but there are plenty of ways to hurt you. None of which have to do with your secret identities.”

“Take it easy, Sweets,” and the Jason there a few minutes ago is a completely different man from the one sitting right across from her. “When Tim needs us, we’ll be there. Ya can take that shit ta the bank and cash it.”

Steph sips her coffee, eyes narrow on the very serious expressions, on the promise in those eyes.

Oddly enough, it really does make her feel better.



It isn’t as bad as it could have been.

Still, she feels sluggish, feels tired and broken-down.

Batgirl heaves a long sigh, her head dropping down on her upraised knees, soaking in the sounds of the city below.

She has done good things tonight, done good works. She is satisfied.

Her comfort place is here, sitting on the awning beside Stephanie Brown’s window, a place she can sit while Steph leans out and talks to her.

Sometimes she is given wonderful smelling tea and little biscuits or cookies. Sometimes the doctor scolds her for her injuries and demands she come inside to be treated. Sometimes it is enough to hear her voice and be grounded.

(And once, when Batgirl allowed, it was to come inside and strip off the night, to be held in warm arms while she shakes and weeps for the terrors she couldn’t stop.)

She is more comfortable here than she can remember being anywhere else other than the Manor.

The window beside her slides gently open, and instead of the face she is accustomed to seeing, Batgirl blinks behind the whiteouts at the young man in a scrub top, smiling gently at her.

“Hi,” he keeps his voice low and soothing, a stethoscope around his neck and the scrubs a familiar shade of purple, “I’m Tim, Steph’s best friend.”

He must see her muscles tighten, her body ready to leap.

“It’s okay. I’m a doctor, too. Steph is working a hard case and asked me to stop by to make sure you’re okay,” he interrupts her motions quickly, “I take care of Nightwing and the Red Hood when they’re…having a bad night. I’m that Tim. I promise I’m not here to hurt you. I’m a regular civilian with a penchant for hating it when cool vigilantes bleed out on my fire escape. That? Is not okay. I know, I know, not technically a fire escape, but I think I can add awnings to that description and we’re still in the clear.”

Her head tilts at him just slightly.

“So, are you hurt?” His eyes move over her clinically, assessing, “it’s been a hard night for N and Hood, but I’ve already made sure they’re good. They’re resting right now back at my place, and you are totally welcome to go see them. I ordered pizza and wings because Hood can’t live without his habanero ones, right? And N just has to have one with pineapple, which okay, I’m not really judging, but I kind of am? Just, who does that? Pineapple is for fruity drink, not pizza. But anyway, first, I want to make sure you’re okay, too. It’s important to me, you know? You do a lot for this city, for us, so it’s okay to let me take care of you, I promise.”

And she looks at those blue eyes, the seriousness of his expression, the hand he slowly holds out, giving her the option to do what she needs to do.

Her hand starts out, hesitates, hovering in the air for a second, her whiteouts go back up to those sincere eyes, the man her brothers talked about fondly.

“You take care of Gotham,” is low and full of respect, admiration, “you take a beating for people you don’t even know. It’s okay to let someone take care of you when you need it.”

It’s such an echo of Stephanie that her chest warms with it, give her the last few inches to slide her gloved hand into his palm, and let him hold on.