you are all my petri dishes

Flirting With Disaster

A/N: Happy Birthday to @constellunaa! I saw your beautiful drawing of Laxus and Cobra and thought ‘hey what if she actually ships it?’ and then wrote 6.5K of it in hopes that you actually do lmao.

If not, have some hint of nalu bcus I am so sorry

Part of my deaf!Natsu college au bcus I’m a slut for continuing universes! Also shout out to @papalogia for putting up with me yelling about this and for helping with some of the words. Natsu and Cobra are cousins, with Indian!Igneel and his unnamed brother who is Cobra’s dad. 

Also praise @rivendell101 for helping me title it! Apparently I’m useless without my friends :D

College!AU

Pairing: Cobraxus, Nalu, Fairy tail

Words: 6515

Rating: M for language

Part: Oneshot

Laxus wanted to die, and not just because of his pounding headache or the fact that he was in an eight AM lab for fucking chemistry of all things. No, Laxus wanted the sweet embrace of death -or maybe to plead for manslaughter on account of insanity- because of his benchmate.

“Could you please make your stomach make disgusting noises quieter? I’m trying to measure out our chemicals, considering you’re going to be useless today.”

Laxus narrowed his eyes at his labmate, thinking of other uses for the sodium hydroxide solution that was being poured from the erlenmeyer flask to a petri dish.

“Stop looking at me like it’s my fault you decided to do jagerbombs instead of sleeping like a normal human being with an eight AM.”

Laxus scowled. The dude wasn’t even able to see his face, eye on Laxus’ side closed from a nasty looking scar. Laxus felt his own scar over his right eye twinge in sympathy, line thinner than the other boy’s. “How’d you know what I was drinking?” he asked, tongue fuzzy and thick in his mouth and voice rough with disuse. He sounded like his dad, and Laxus wished for another double jager to push back that unwelcome comparison.

“Because you reek of licorice, red bull, and regret.”

Laxus snorted, grinning as he scrawled down the fourth trial’s measurement in his lab notes. “I showered.”

“Don’t feel bad,” the boy drawled, sealing the vacuum box the petri dish now resided in before they turned on the chlorine gas, “it’s a stench that permeates engineering students.”

Laxus frowned, wanting to bite back against the generalization of his major, but flashbacks to the group of twenty somethings doing keg stands and flip cup after their last electrical midterm stopped him. His labmate wasn’t exactly wrong.

But his class had fucking earned going a little wild, especially after the hell that was the four hour midterm of Jose’s quantum nuclear midterm. Laxus was pretty sure that time length wasn’t even allowed by the school board, but seeing as how his grandfather was at a bit of a cold war with the dean, Laxus wasn’t about to say shit.

“Well I’m sure you biology kids know all about the danger of popping illegal prescription pills, don’t you?” he snarked. He had yet to meet one that wasn’t permanently shaking from a near overdose of Adderall, struggling to stay awake to finish making their four hundredth flash card.

“I’m not a biology major,” he said flicking on the highly poisonous gas with the most uncaring expression Laxus has seen on something besides his mirror.

Laxus eyed him critically. “Only biology majors are actually interested in chemistry labs,” he said finally, watching the plastic cube in front of him as the gas reacted with the solution.

“What about chem students?” he asked flatly, switching off the gas lever after the thirty seconds had passed on the stopwatch.

“Those freaks can do this shit in their sleep and try to go and set shit on fire under the fume hoods.” Laxus said just as flatly as his lab partner, focusing on writing down the chemical equations involved in their experiment. “If you aren’t biology then why the hell are you in this lab then?” Laxus asked. He knew why he was there, stupid requirement for his degree saying he need at least a 200 level in each of physics, chem, and bio. Not that Laxus fucking understood why he needed to know how bases and ions reacted to make deadly gases, considering he was going to be an electrical engineer.

Fucking reqs.

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Title: Care and Attention

(gif belongs to of-badges-and-guns <3)

A/N: This is so long lol, it got away from me but it’s nice and fluffy. Feedback is welcomed and very much appreciated. Hope you all enjoy it, as always, thank you for reading <3

Requested by: Anon - “60 with Gibbs”

Word Count: 1,104

Pairing: Gibbs x Reader

60. “You should have come to me!”

You shuffled over painfully to your desk and let yourself slowly sink into your desk chair. It was the dead of night, hardly anybody was here just a few security guards and one unlucky soul in another team pulling an all-nighter. Opening one of the drawers to your left you took out a small mirror, you winced when your saw the black eye already forming as well as the swelling to your lip but your reaction to your face only made it hurt more.

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The reality of “doing what you love”

A quick word on the concept of “doing what you love” and “following your passion”. 
I cannot tell you how many people tell me that what I do must be great and easy because I love it, or because I “get to be creative all day”, and I set my own schedule. Here is the truth..

Yes, I love making art, yes I am creative, but no..no, no, no, it is not easy. So many people have a false and romanticized idea of what it means to follow a calling, or to do what you are passionate about. I love making art, but it is a job, and like every other job out there I do NOT love it every day. There are days, weeks, and sometimes months when I am completely burnt out and what I do is miserable. I do not get to clock in or out, and weekends mean nothing to my schedule. I get clients that drain all of the creativity out of the work and I am no longer an artist; I am a hired technician whose skill just happens to be drawing and painting. I have weeks and months where I make next to no income, yet I still do the work. Sometimes I do not love making art, but art chose me as its vessel and I wither if I am not making something, whether I get paid to do it or not. Following your passion is not about following your joy. There will inevitably be stretches of time when there is no joy in what you do, but it will be the passion that pulls and sometimes drags you through the blood and muddy times when the thought of an ordinary desk job with a boss, set hours, and a steady paycheck sounds pretty damn fine.  Do I recommend people try and make a go of art as a career?  To be absolutely honest, not really. So why do I do it?  I am an odd duck. I like working alone, I lose control over my depression if I am not working on art, I am willing to sacrifice certain creature comforts that cost money if it means the freedom to do this work, and I can’t picture myself doing anything other than this. I didn’t want art to be my “career”. I wanted to work with animals, I wanted to be a conservation biologist. But my brain was wired for the abstract and the philosophical, and not the concrete world of data and formulas, and all along the way art poured out of me like an instinct, while petri dishes and measuring extinction rates ripped at my heart and clouded my mind. Art chose me; that is the only way I know how to explain it, and so I do the work and I do it on the days when I love it, and I do it on the days when I don’t. 

Beloved Baker Street  Chapter 3

Originally posted by iamfullofdiseases

Part 1  Part 2

Summary: Y/N Hudson was the brilliant daughter of Mrs. Hudson, owner of 221 Baker Street. Returning to London to work as a forensic scientist and be closer to her mother, she never expected to be swept up into the whirlwind life of Sherlock Holmes…


“Right, click the picture of the gear.” Y/N directed as her mother peered at her phone. “Okay, now scroll down…there. Click on text and display.”

Mrs. Hudson sighed, pushing the device into her daughter’s hand. “Oh, I don’t even remember why I bought this silly thing.”

Less than a minute later, the text size on Mrs. Hudson’s phone was at its largest setting. Mrs. Hudson grinned and pressed a kiss to her daughter’s forehead.

“My little muffin is a technological genius!”

A scoff drew both women’s attention. “Hardly. She’s proficient at chemistry, I suppose. Saying that she’s a ‘technological genius’ is just a lie, Mrs. Hudson.”

“Well hello to you too, Sherlock.” Y/N greeted.

“Upstairs. Now.” Sherlock replied, turning on his heel and walking to the stairs.

Curiosity won over her annoyance at his demands. Y/N made sure her mother’s phone was all set before following the tall detective into 221B.

He was in the kitchen, stirring an alarmingly orange mixture in a souvenir mug. The table was covered in beakers, petri dishes, a microscope, and multiple books. It looked like a STEM program exploded all over the room. Y/N crossed her arms and observed from the doorway.

“Hold this.” Sherlock shoved the mug into her hands.

“May I ask why you’re mixing orange soda, baby powder, and,” Y/N grimaced into the cup. “some kind of meat together?”

“It’s an experiment.” He replied simply.

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anonymous asked:

1/2 I can see Dean's POV and can understand WHY he did what he did. But on the other hand, I wonder if Dean hadn't reacted so negatively to Castiel's plan, if things might have turned out so badly. If Castiel had had Dean's support and advice for how to proceed, maybe the whole thing could have turned out differently. In hindsight, it's easy to see Dean was right about Cas working with Crowley. But I wonder if Dean's severe negative reaction to the idea was kind of a self fulfilling prophecy.

2/2 Maybe the fact Dean reacted to Cas’ plan with “This is a terrible idea, it’s going to turn our badly, and I’m going to do my best to make sure it fails” instead of “I don’t agree with what you did, but I know you have the best intentions, and I’m going to do what I can to help” is why it failed. It’s impossible to know what would have happened in that scenario, but I’m just considering that maybe Dean wouldn’t have been right if he hadn’t tried so damn hard to be right.

I know people really, really want to believe this, for some reason that I can’t fathom. It’s just… not what the narrative is telling us. Regardless of if he’d had Dean’s support or not, swallowing Purgatory would’ve inevitably released the Leviathans.

The fact the Leviathan held on inside him wouldn’t have changed regardless of when he returned the souls. Even if he’d struck down Raphael, had Dean’s support, and returned the souls immediately:

CASTIEL:  You need to run now! I-I can’t hold them back!
DEAN: Hold who back?
CASTIEL: They held on inside me. Dean, they’re so strong.
DEAN: Who the hell –?
CASTIEL: Leviathan! I can’t fight them. Run!

And Death himself had been trying to stop that happening all along. He’d given Dean that cryptic warning about what Cas was up to in 6.11, and then AGAIN warned him in 7.01:

DEATH: Annoying little protozoa, aren’t they? “God”? You look awfully like a mutated angel to me. Your vessel’s melting. You’re going to explode.
CASTIEL: No, I’m not. When I’ve finished my work, I’ll repair myself.
DEATH: You think you can because you think you’re simply under the weight of all those souls, yes? But that’s not the worst problem. There are things much older than souls in Purgatory, and you gulped those in, too.
CASTIEL: Irrelevant. I control them.
DEATH: For the moment.
DEAN: Wait – uh, what older things?
DEATH: Long before God created Angel and man, he made the first beasts – the Leviathans.
DEAN: Leviathans?
DEATH: I personally found them entertaining, but he was concerned they’d chomp the entire petri dish, so he locked them away. Why do you think he created Purgatory? To keep those clever, poisonous things out. Now Castiel has swallowed them. He’s the one thin membrane between the old ones and your home.
CASTIEL: Enough.
DEATH: Stupid little soldier you are.
CASTIEL: Why? Because I dared open a door that he shut? Where is he? I did a service, taking his place.
DEATH: Service? Settling petty vendettas?
CASTIEL: No. I’m cleaning up one mess after another – selflessly.
DEATH: Quite the humanitarian.
CASTIEL: And how would you know? What are you, really? A flyswatter?
DEATH: Destined to swat you, I think.
CASTIEL: Unless I take you first.
DEATH: Really bought his own press, this one. Please, Cas. I know God, and you, sir, are no God.

Death could already see that the Leviathan weren’t under Cas’s control, and he still gave Cas a chance to try to put things right, even if it was technically too late.

In the VERY NEXT SCENE, we see Cas slaughter an entire office full of innocent people, proving that he wasn’t in control at all. Even BEFORE the scene transcribed above, Cas is already suffering vessel failure (the creepy shot of him looking at his writhing abdomen in the bathroom mirror, losing control in the church and scorching the pew, etc.)

I don’t think anyone wanted Dean to be wrong more than Dean himself, you know? But after the entirety of s6 building up to this, proving Dean right in the most horrifying ways possible, it’s baffling to me to suggest that all of that was for naught.

It’s not DEAN who is apologetic and contrite after Cas returns the souls to Purgatory. IT’S CAS. HE KNOWS HE WAS WRONG for just those few minutes before the Leviathan take him over. HE ADMITS IT, and even knowing he only has moments before the Leviathan take control, he uses his final moments to tell Dean:

DEAN: Damn it. Cas, you child. Why didn’t you listen to me? Cas?! Hey! Hey! Okay. All right.
CASTIEL: That was unpleasant.
DEAN: Let’s get him up. Easy, there.
CASTIEL: I’m alive.
BOBBY: Looks like.
CASTIEL: I’m astonished. Thank you – both of you.
BOBBY: We were mostly… just trying to save the world.
CASTIEL: I’m ashamed. I really overreached.
DEAN: You think?
CASTIEL: I’m gonna find some way to redeem myself to you.
DEAN: All right, well, one thing at a time. Come on. Let’s get you out of here. Come on.
CASTIEL: I mean it, Dean.

And then it’s too late… AND EVERYTHING CAS HAS DONE SINCE THEN HAS BEEN AN ATTEMPT TO DO PENANCE AND REDEEM HIMSELF TO DEAN FOR THIS.

It’s literally the basis for his entire s8-12 emotional arc. 

Why are people so eager to erase this fact?

White Jasmines

Originally posted by baekheeyeol

Pairing: Baekhyun x Reader

Genre: Fluff, prince!au, healer!au

Word Count: 4.4K

Warning: I love nutrition. ITS SO INTERESTING WHEJZHCBAD(the only human being thatll ever say that, hi, im lea, nice to meet ya)

A/N: i totally did not spend hours of my time searching cool nutrition facts, don’t worry. youll get 1% of the info i collected in this one shot. enjoy!

A lot of people believe that two people of very different status’ can’t be together. (y/n) does, and denies her love for Prince Baekhyun. But the Prince does not. 

-

“Miss (y/n)?”

I looked up from my mortar, and stop moving the pestle through the grainy paste of seaweed green spices. The spices had created tears in my eyes, and fingers to itch. However, added a nice tinge of freshness to the air.

“Are you alright?” the servant named Dee frowned, tilting her head.

I coughed, wiping my eyes with my cream sleeves. “Uhm- yes. Dieffenbachia plant and onions, you know. Contains a lot of chemical irritants.”

She nodded back at me hesitantly, but I know she had no idea about what I was talking about. I laugh silently to myself, still enjoying the fact that many were still so oblivious to medicinal herbs even during my years of work at the palace.

I wiped my hands off on my brown overalls, waiting for her to speak. “Miss (y/n), the prince has conceived an injury through reasons unknown. He requests for you to heal his wounds.”

I sighed loudly, irritated, yet not caring that one of his own servants was standing in the room. “If he needs medical assistance, I recommend him a palace healer. They have more experiences when it comes to his… issues.”

Dee gives me a pitied smile, knowing that I was the one who had to put up with him and his antics the most. “He specifically asked for you, miss. I’m sorry, there’s nothing I can do against that.”

And here we go again. The servant leaves, leaving me to prepare for my trip to the royal chambers. I didn’t bother changing out of my long sleeved shirt under my overalls- they would get even more stained anyway. Flecks of red would be added to the smudges of green and brown, and my light-colored sleeves would stain.

I grabbed a woven basket, the aged fibers almost falling apart at my fingertips. I pile in the basic needs- clean bandages, aloe vera salves, plantain leaves, calendula oil, you name it, I have it. Several glass pots and petri dishes as well.

I nudged in my favourite pot of mixed nuts for good measure.

I left my little station in the usual neatness that I’m used to. The long table in the middle is cleared, with only a few plant pots here and there on it. The lights that hung low from the ceiling are turned off, and all the cabinets were closed.

When I step outside, the first shock I got was the cold, hard wood under my bare feet.

“Follow me please.”

Honestly, I didn’t need to follow the girl. I’ve been to his Highnesses’ quarters so many times, for every little thing and call. Every cut, bruise, scrape he conceived through ‘training’ and ‘adventures’ was nurtured back to health by me.

Even if I didn’t specialize in his type of medical treatment- more in very severe damage like third degree burns and chronic wounds- the Prince still beckons me to his suite.

We passed through the catered flowered courtyard, courtesy of all the healers in the palace. This is the place where you could find me besides the warehouse. The plant pots, of all sizes- small, big, thin, thick- of all colors decorated the first and second floor. You can look down from the second floor by a fancy black railing, covered in ivy that hung down as if imitating curtains.

The sun shone brightly, but the right amount of clouds balanced it out and created a cool breeze. The perfect day for going outside and enjoying the weather.

The further we walked, the more expensive and luxurious the scenery became. From wooden tiles to marble tiles, the metal hinges and tools to gold and silver, the buildings piling up and becoming higher. The only thing that didn’t change was the nature present, still as bright and blazing as it always has been.

We go up an open stairway, lined with a carpet the color of dripping crimson. It felt soft against my feet, the surroundings becoming more packed in gleaming furniture as we neared the prince’s room.

“Your highness, the healer is here,” the servant knocked politely on the door, three soft knocks against the smooth oak.

Silence came in response.

As if used to this, Dee opens the door carefully, the handle making a ‘click’ and therefore acknowledging that we were entering.

Prince Baekhyun sat there, on his bed, legs spread out, eyes closed, and head tilted upwards to the strays of sunlight.

He looked like a god.

The sun caught the night black strands of his hair, the glossy look of his skin, giving his cheekbones a blinding glow that made me question his humanity.

He only turned his head to us, as if moving the rest of his body was too much effort. I bite the inside of my cheek as his messy locks fall in front of his eyes, champagne pink lips slightly parted, giving us a glimpse of the natural whiteness of his front teeth.

A god of deception, a god of beauty, a god of love.

“Thank you,” he nodded at her once in that royal way of his, that smooth voice rippling over my skin like lead-infused water. I hold back a sigh of content as my ears ring with approval, before I notice that those fiery beautiful eyes were on mine. Not on the girl next to me who he previously responded to. I gulped, before letting our eye contact go and I scan his body for those injuries instead.

It isn’t a distraction from him, I promise myself.

“I’ll leave you to it,” she said formally, but only another girl would have noticed how her voice pitched higher. She leaves without a second look at me, and closes the door behind her.

He’s wearing a simple get up of black pants and brown boots that passes his ankles, a black button up loosely hanging from the prince’s shoulders. The first two buttons are opened, revealing his smooth and untainted collarbone.

I silently understand why girls throw themselves at his feet.

I see no injuries so far, besides the fact that his boots are dirty and had left small prints of mud on the floor. The prince’s hair is ruffled in an undignified way, meaning he was probably doing a form of physical exercise.

He also smells like the fresh air.

I realize I had been staring, and a smile was creeping its way up the edges of his Highnesses’ lips.

“Your highness,” I stammered, lowering down my head, and I inwardly groan. Why didn’t I change clothes like I always did? Why didn’t I change into a dress so I could properly curtsy in front of a royal family member?

I swear, I always get like this. Annoyed, at first with their rich air. Muster up enough courage and confidence to face someone with a high status, and then lose all that the second we come face-to-face.

The prince seems even more amused by my flustered behavior, and that real smile erupts on his face like a pending volcano. “Hi (y/n)!” he waves excitedly at me like a little child, his eyes closing along with the action like they usually do.

Prince Baekhyun always surprises me with his childlike aura around me. When it comes to the servants and nobles, he’s as handsome and serious and charming as he has to be- but around me, the Prince is rather different. Same thing with his lovely mother, the Empress.

I don’t meet the prince of the Byun Empire’s eyes. “What injury do you need help with, your highness?”

He pouts, bottom lip curling slightly. A smile almost slips onto my face at the movement. “You’re so cold, (y/n). You didn’t even greet me back!”

The Prince’s whining was something I still have to get used to in my years of knowing him. “I did greet you back,” I correct, not bothering to put more of an argue-tone to my voice. I shrug. “I greeted you first.”

“With a stupid ‘your highness’!”

“Protocol, your highness. Protocol.”

I was failing horribly at hiding my own teasing tone.

“(y/n)!!!” he grumbles, scrunching his eyebrows together. “Why can’t you just call me Baekhyun? B- A- E- K- H- Y- U- N. Now you try.”

He was messing with me on purpose, and he knew it too well. The Prince seems to enjoy my exasperated expressions.

“Highness,” I say, walking towards the wide oak window sill, placing my basket there so it was within reach. I could see the birds chirp outside, all perched on the golden tower tops and faded porpoise roof. “I would rather we start on treating the wounds. May I ask you to show me where they are, and how they were conceived?”

I take out the pots with leaves and petals, placing them on top of the bandages. My hand went out to steady a wobbling jar, and before I know it, I knocked something over with a single finger- and it landed safely on the soft gauze.

“Here, let me help,” the Prince speaks behind me, voice gentle. I turn back to him to decline his offer(and maybe scold him, a prince, for trying to help a capable healer ), but the only thing I register is the pained groan from him.

A hand shot up to his shoulder, massaging it. His face was twisted into a lasting wince, lips pulled back and posture stiff.

My mind goes into immediate alarm.

I scurry over to him, a fierce scolding expression in my eyes. I slap away the hand on his shoulder, my fingers snapping against his sturdy yet soft knuckles. I was too worried to notice that I just touched his Highness, and that the goosebumps had already started to prickle at my arms and legs.

I look up at him, upset. I rotate a finger in the air, signaling him to show me his back. He sighs; hopefully knowing there was no way he could counter or disagree with me now.

I stare at the injury.

A thick scrape from the beginning of his shoulder made its way down his shoulder blade, longer than a foot and as wide as my hand. Bits of mud flecked the outside of the injury, mixed with flecks of his pale skin, some that were still hanging from the wound and now painted red.

It had taken a piece of his shirt as well, the torn black flap hanging loosely on the side.

“Why didn’t you tell me beforehand that your back was heavily scraped! Then Dee could have warned me to bring better remedies than the ones I have now! These can only provide for minor injuries, but this one has a much large surface- how did you even hurt yourself like this- and the walk back to the warehouse takes longer than ten minutes and I have to come back as well-”

“I could come with you,” he suggested slyly, interrupting and facing me again. Those eyes were playful, obviously light and comical about the situation. I searched for his pupils, the ones I could never find in those dark orbs.

I shoot him a dangerous look. “No. I’ll do as much as I can now, and I’ll quickly run back and forth later. I’ll bandage you as well, to prevent any bacteria from infecting it…”

I unfold the brown package of the plantain leaves, the parchment crinkling under my fingers. I take out several oval plantain leaves, a bit larger than my palm each.

The ripped cloth covers some of the scrape, I realized with a bite to my lip. He’ll… he’ll have to… What will he reply? Will he be disgusted with me? Oh god, no (y/n), please don’t overthink it more than it already is. You’re treating a wound. You’re a doctor. Act like it.

“Uhm… your highness?” I faltered, hoping he wouldn’t notice the hesitance and uneasiness in my voice.

“Yes (y/n)?”

“I… your tunique is in the way of the treatment… will you please take it off for me?” the more I talked, the more squeaky and nervous I became.

“Oh… already at second base, huh (y/n)?” the blackette teased, exactly I expected him too.

I huff, all the uncomfortableness having faded away once I realized this was Prince Baekhyun, the man that I’d known for more than four years. Of course he was going to crack a perverted joke.

And then I was exposed to my future emperor’s bare, flawless back.

His skin was as pale as his face, defined with muscles built up with years of training. His shoulder blades were clearly outlined, and I could see the curve of his spine. He was so perfect- and yet he wasn’t, with faded whiter scars flecked here and there. I grazed a finger over one nearest to the wound, shaped like a crescent moon. The Prince stiffened, and I instantly retreated my hand.

Stupid move (y/n), stupid move.

I grab some of the plantain leaves, the freshest and therefore the greenest for the first layer of the wound- the ones that work best. I smooth them out on the injury, careful not to touch any of his skin. Yet I feel his muscles ripple under my touch, even through the leaves and layers. I suppose he has the same reaction to my touch. No (y/n), no.

He was my superior by so many descents, at the top of the hierarchy and me at the bottom.

Yet the time we spend together… why… why was he always the one that called upon me?

I shoved those thoughts away, pressing them against the back wall of my mental capacity. The one I never visited, where I stored my unfilled hopes. Like the time I was hoping for a promotion, or that one of my family members would finally come meet me.

All impossible.

Next, I cut out stripes of the bandages- so they went over the injury, like a white rectangle that was stuck to his chest.

With a shaking hand, I went for my tea tree essential oil, stored in a dark flask with a cork. I bite my lip- I would have to touch his skin, to disinfect the surrounding flesh.

“Your highness?” I whisper, my voice slightly muted to his ears since I was standing behind him. Being much shorter than him, it’s like I always talking to his back.

“Baekhyun,” he corrected, not hiding the smirk that started to form. I could see it peek out from his defined cheekbones.

“I’l… I’ll have to use oil to disinfect your wound, if that’s alright?” my voice trembled by a bit, but I think he noticed. The black haired man’s lips went from a smirk to a gentle smile, nodding.

“Of course (y/n), you’re the healer here.”

Normally I never had to apply oil. I normally just bandaged the injury, my fingers only barely scraping against his skin, or put on some ice, and give him advice on what to do and what not to do.

His permission seemed to decrease my frazzled nerves a bit, but my fingers were trembling as I smoothed the translucent oil over my finger tips. The liquid felt cool to my burning touch, caused primarily by my embarrassment.

I retracted my fingers from nearing his back, holding them just above my lap so none of the oil smeared against my overalls.

Should I be doing this? Should I really be doing this? Why… this is way out of my comfort zone. Maybe I should stop and call a palace healer. Yes, if I want to save somewhat of my dignity I should do that. I opened my mouth to talk.

“(y/n), are you okay?”

The bothered tone of the dark orbed man send unwilling shivers up my spine, hyping at the top and stilling at the bottom. Another flood came as he turned around, this time ten times as intensifying and powerful as the last shivering wave.

His bare chest was right in my view.

The Prince pressed a finger against my stubborn chin, the muscle easily giving in as my eyes met his.

They were hooded, beautiful, perfect. “Are you okay?”

I cleared my throat. “I… I think we should get a palace healer. They’re more capable,” I moved away from him, heading towards the door. “and they have the supplies we need…” my back was now against him, and I refused to look back at him. I had to get out of here.

The door handle was so close. The room seemed to be suffocating me- my breaths were getting shallower by the minute, and I was itching and aching for fresh air. “… I’m going to call Dee so she can get you some proper treatment-”

My own back slammed against the door so hard my bones rattled seconds afterward. My head was swimming and drowning at the same time, and I could make out a blurry, yet faultless and furious, face staring back at me.

It took me only half a second to register that it was the Prince.

“I don’t want a palace healer,” the man growled, coming closer to me, arms at both sides of my head. He had trapped me- like a bird in a cage. “I don’t want Dee…”

Closer he came, until I could almost feel his skin against mine. “I want you…”

His coral lips were softer than I had imagined.

So plush and warm, like a humid cloud and a hot summer’s day, far on the horizon, alone and perfect. That was the perfect way to describe the feeling of Baekhyun’s lips on mine.

The black curls brushed against my forehead as his hand crept upwards. Before I knew it, I could feel his calloused and rough fingertips against my jawline, cool against my scorching skin. With a gentleness that left me breathless, he tilted my head so our lips fitted even more perfectly.

With brushes so sweet and sinful, he kissed me as if he wasn’t a royal and I a healer- that he was supposed to get married someday to a princess, that I wasn’t supposed to marry the son of a baker downtown.

He didn’t care, and through every touch of his pink lips against mine, he evaporated my worries.

I moaned; I couldn’t help it. No one could have. Baekhyun’s presence was so overwhelming- even more so now that our bodies were only inches apart, kissing sensually. I opened my mouth, and his tongue dived in between my own lips- his wet muscles brushing against the soft skin, making my knees weak.

His tongue teased mine playfully- just like he really was. Baekhyun was utterly benign- a perfect gentlemen, confident, loving, not having a single thought about crossing any boundaries.

I almost kissed him back.

“Baekhyun… no.”

His lips stilled.

I continued talking now that I could properly do so without mumbling. “You’re a prince. I’m a healer, our status’ are so different. What if your father found out that you’re in a relationship with some like me? What shame would you deliver to your father? To your country? As the future ruler of this empire, Baekhyun, I’m begging you- forget me.”

And I slowly realized he wasn’t listening to me.

“You… called me Baekhyun.”

The brightest, most magnificent smile split into his face like a hurricane- uncontrollable, sudden and becoming larger by the second.

His hands landed on my waist, a pressure so sweet and comforting. I squealed as he lifted me up in the air, twirling me around like a father would do on his daughter’s birthday. My hair flew hazardly in different directions, the only sound echoing in my ears was his overjoyed laugh.

“My name sounds beautiful on your lips…” he whispers lovingly against me, having stopped his joyous movements.

Baekhyun’s arms were wrapped around me, my soft body wrapped against his hard one. He leaned down so my forehead touched his, a small smile on his face. “You have no idea… you have no idea how long I’ve wanted you to be mine. How long I’ve waited to be allowed to kiss you; to hug you, to love you… and now you’re here in my arms…”

His voice was deep and layered with all sorts of happiness. Excitement, contentment, exhilaration.

“What do you mean… how long you’ve waited…” I manage to speak, the words hushed and raw in my throat. After those words heart-melting words, my mind was in a frenzy and my stomach in a pile of goop.

He grinned at my confusion and breathlessness. “My father. I asked him if I could take you as mine, meaning standing beside me in the future. Of course, first he replied with all the ‘you need to marry a fair and beautiful princess!’ crap, but after months of convincing and mother’s sweet-talking, he managed to give me his approval.”

My head was spinning. Baekhyun… wants me? Like, this isn’t? But no, his eyes were as light and real as they always were. And his mother… sweet-talking? I couldn’t help but feel a little bit flattered that his mother also approved of me.

He grinned, dark eyelashes as prominent as ever.

This was too much to take in at once.

I pushed myself off the ground and kissed him again.

And again.

And again.

Until we were panting, our cheeks and lips pink, the temperature of the room having increased by a couple of degrees.

“I should… probably finish bandaging that wound…”

I turn around, and then finally notice the purple flowers, and I stop, wide-eyed.

They were bold in the sunlight shining right on them. How hadn’t I noticed them before? Obviously freshly picked by the deep black dirt, the tiny lilac flower petals jumbled up in bushels in the plant pot. The inside was yellow, only adding to the effect of it’s beauty.

“You notice know?” I hear Baekhyun whine, his arms coming to rest around my waist. “I had it all planned out…”

I laugh. I couldn’t help it. How much love I held for this man was too much to bear for just a person. That’s why there are two of us. “Heliotropes mean eternal love…”

“That’s right,” he whispers, as he sinks his teeth in the shell of my ear.

I screech, jerking my body away from him as a hand goes up to my ear. “Hey! Why did you bite me?”

“Revenge for not noticing my confession earlier,” he says smugly.

I turned back to the purple flowers.

I deadpanned when my eyes landed on the bush next to the purple heliotropes. “Why did you choose the other plant?”

Baekhyun looks at the cute potted ball of red fluff, standing out and giving the room a cosy feeling. It went well with the oak wood and golden imagery. “Aren’t they pretty? I found them in the botanical gardens when I was walking there a few days ago! And they’re red!” he beams.

“Baekhyun…” I sigh. “Red arborvitae mean… unchanging friendship.”

He stares at me, not even trying to hide his surprise and bewilderment.

The young prince looked so cute, dark brown eyes wide and curls of black brushing against his dark eyebrows.

“Well… we’re in love and best friends?”

I hit him on his chest, making him laugh.

“Okay mister, enough. Turn around and let me bandage you up properly, will you?”

I restart the process of the tea tree essential oil, now having rubbed off my fingers. I confidently rub it against his skin, while Baekhyun takes the lead in telling me some… bad pickup lines.

“You’ve got me acting like ivy… I keep coming back.”

“Hey, (y/n), have I ever told you we fit together like mortar and pestle?”

“What’s your ph, baby? Cause I think we might be soil mates.”

“I’m already regretting this…” I mumble to myself. I finish up quickly, and the torture ends. “Okay, Baekhyun. For quicker healing of your injury, try to eat food that are rich in vitamin A and C. Meaning oranges, broccoli, spinach, carrots, whatever. Also: nuts. Nuts are rich in unsaturated fat, which is good for the growth of the nerve system, brain, and spinal cord. Not to mention that that fat is also really good for your heart.”

“Ah, this is why I love you, (y/n),” Baekhyun grins sweetly, leaning his head down on his palms and elbows on the windowsill where I was reaching for my supplies.

I place a jar of nuts on the table in front of his face with a bang!, trying not to be affected by his words. However, for the first time in my life, my cheeks turn a dusty shade of red. “Eat,” I say sternly, looking him straight in the eye. “I would recommend the walnuts. They reduce inflammation. Cashews for hair and weight loss. And lots of pistachios for anti-depression…”

I trail off as I see the incredulous look in his eyes.

“Uhm… I’ll leave some calendula oil here too. Good for skin care. I mean, I have so much calendula in my office, come by anytime for more,” I say nervously, tapping my fingernails against the wood.

“I’ll gladly do that,” Baekhyun says teasingly, and I roll my eyes.

He pulls me into his chest, my head resting against it as his steady heartbeat reaches my ears. The dark eyed man body temperature was just right, arms around me and head resting on the top of mine.

I open my eyes, noticing the Heliotropes once again and breaking into a smile.

The Prince notices my stare. I look up at him, so close we could almost kiss again.

“What kind of flowers would you have gotten me?” he breathes shallowly against my lips, breath brushing against my skin. I close my eyes, falling further into his soft, warm embrace.

I think about it.

“White jasmines,” I breath back against him, not bothering to open my eyes just yet.

I can feel him smile, I can just tell. “And what do those mean?”

Sweet love.

So last Monday I let everyone know about some depression that I was dealing with and that it was affecting my regular comic posting schedule. I want to thank you all so much for the nice messages of encouragement I received from so many of you. Everyone was more concerned with my mental health than they were with regular comic updates, and it warmed my heart. I really think that I’m starting to come out of it, and I’m excited about this new storyline… there are some funny strips coming that I think you’ll enjoy. Thanks again everyone!

anonymous asked:

10 and 11 with Catilin Snow please

10. “Stop being a baby.” + 11. “Sit still, would you?”

Originally posted by killervibedaily

Caitlin let out a big sigh. “Sit still, the more you squirm the harder this gets.”

You reached up to scratch your head but Caitlin swatted your hand away. “Ow,” you said, rubbing your hand.

“Don’t touch your head, I told you I have to collect samples of the creatures before I can cure you,” she said as she pulled on a new pair of gloves. 

Just your luck, you’d ventured to another world only to have some microscopic bug nest in your hair and decide to make itself at home. Thankfully Caitlin had promised to help. 

You took a deep breath then nodded. “Okay, go ahead,” you said and braced yourself. 

Caitlin rolled her eyes. Then she searched your scalp until she found a bug a decent size. She pulled it out with her tweezers and placed it in a petri dish. Then she pulled another one out, this time she killed it then placed it on a different petri dish. “All done,” she said as she pulled off her gloves.

You turned to her. “So what should I do about,” you said and pointed to your head. 

“Well on first glance they don’t seem much different than lice so just use whatever it is they use to kill lice. I should have some results in a couple days.” 

-

“Caitlin no!” You cried as she walked towards you with the shaver. 

She smiled sympathetically. “It’s the only way (y/n).”

You shook your head. “I’m not getting rid of my hair it took a long time to make it look this good.”

“If we don’t shave off all your hair and apply this special formula then those bugs from earth 2 aren’t going away.”

You sighed. “I wish I’d never gone in the first place.”

Caitlin approached you with the clippers. She touched your shoulder. “If it helps you’ll still look beautiful bald.”

You frowned. “Just do it. I can’t stand the thought of those bugs in my hair another minute.”

You closed your eyes and heard the clippers turn on. 

A few minutes later Caitlin was rubbing her special formula all over your head, gloves on of course. Then you rinsed it all off and poof earth two bugs goodbye.

As you finished getting dry you gave Caitlin a hug. “Thanks for helping me out Cait.”

Caitlin smiled. “It’s no problem, just next time you’re on a strange world maybe don’t have sex with the first person you meet.”

You smirked at her. “Jealous?”

Caitlin’s cheeks turned red. “What? No I-”

You laughed. “Just messing with you cait.”

2

E: All this happened and you haven’t told anyone?

M: It was too dangerous. And who was I gonna tell? Judy? The grant she’s so upset over is the first one I’e been able to get since the disciplinary. The Pharmacological board blacklisted me when I wouldn’t hand over my notes or go and work fro them to develop the vaccine for a private company. I’ve been lecturing schoolkids and re-using petri dishes just to keep the lights on and I only got this money because it’s microbiology and not vaccine related. And someone keeps hacking my PC just to be sure. 

E: Oh Marin :(

M: It’s okay. Well it’s not. But it could be worse. We just had to move Alexis out of her ward and into a hidden facility with Jorge’s connections. We think somebody may have worked out from her blood what we did with our sample. But the danger seems to have passed. For now. And I can’t hide forever. So…

E: So you need a hug and a friend. You got it.

When I look at you laying there
across the way from me
behind the curtains of a Friday
afternoon, I wonder how it is that you,
you are just a handful of a billion cells.

Something I can pick apart and put back together.
You, a human with one heart
and two hands
and ten fingers
that I’ve fallen in love with
all at separate times.

Only that.
A handful of cells.

You,
are a textbook of our 
chemistry.

Let me put your laugh in a petri dish
so that I can see if what we have
has a heartbeat,
if the cells between us
dance
like we did that evening
when you slid your arm
around the small of my waist
and kissed me
with your eyes closed.

Let me see
the way you love me
without loving me
with words.

—  THE ANATOMY OF BEING Shinji Moon

anonymous asked:

hi hi could i request the rfa members seeing mc a little sad/pretending that everything is okay and they refuse to open up but then one day they find mc crying/a sobbing mess and finally confess that they no longer can reach their dream career please

thank for request anon-nim

this is a bit too relatable for me…haha…ha

Yoosung:

  • you were on your way to becoming a principal dancer 
  • but you hurt yourself during warm up and you were desperate to hide it from Yoosung
  • but he’s not an idiot
  • he is extremely receptive towards even the tiniest change in your attitude
  • when he asks if you’re okay and you say you’re ‘perfectly fine’ with a smile that’s a bit too stiff
  • he knows you’re not fine at all
  • he makes more of an effort to observe any changes in your behaviour
  • so when he sees that you’re clutching your lower back more often, he confronts you right away
  • you want to stay strong
  • but you fail
  • and you flop to the ground, not caring about how bruised your knees were going to be
  • “I’m just gonna say it. I hurt my back while I was warming up last week and I got an x-ray…and the doctor said I have a huge crack on my tailbone…and I was told that if I try to dance on it again…the crack would grow…so he told me…”
  • you couldn’t continue the sentence
  • he held your hands, silently reassuring you that it was okay
  • “I have to quit.”
  • he swallowed the spit that had built up in his throat
  • “MC…I…I’m so sorry that you can’t achieve your dream anymore. I will do everything in my power to make sure I can help you. I’m not exactly sure how, I will damn well try to help you.”
  • he hugged you tightly. it hurt a little, but this pain was miniscule in comparison to the fact that you wouldn’t be able to dance anymore
  • “I will find the best surgeon out there to see if they can fix your back. I don’t care about how expensive it is…let me help you.”
  • you flat out refused. there was no way in hell you would let him use his money on you. you couldn’t…
  • he retorted that you helped him with his eye surgery. this was no different
  • you finally agreed, but there wasn’t a guarantee that you would bounce back to the level you were before your injury. the future was terrifying, but as long as Yoosung radiated with positivity, you had hope

Zen:

  • there wasn’t much that changed with your attitude for Zen to notice that you were slowly losing your positivity towards life
  • you had worked your ass off in that lab, studying diseases and finding ways to eradicate them
  • it wasn’t until one morning, Zen woke up a loud sound erupting from the kitchen
  • he ran to the source of the noise and he saw you staring at the coffee mug that had shattered on the ground
  • and then you started slamming your hand on the kitchen counter
  • Zen went into protective mode
  • holding your hand as if it were a feather, he slowly turned it around to see a bruise slowly starting to form
  • “jagiya, it was just a coffee mug. there’s no need to get so upset…”
  • you looked up at him as if he’d set your body on fire
  • “I’VE LOST CONTROL OVER MY HAND AND YOU’RE FUCKING TELLING ME NOT TO GET UPSET OVER IT?”
  • he steps back, not sure how to quell your mounting rage
  • “you wanna talk about it…?” he can see that this isn’t just petty anger towards a broken cup
  • where to start though?
  • “my research is in shambles. my hand has been twitching non stop and because of it, I messed up some of the samples in the petri dishes. I got fired Zen…I’m such a failure.”
  • he’s in tears by the time you finish saying what you have to say
  • Zen tries to be sympathetic, imagining how he would feel if his body refused to cooperate with him and he had to quit performing…
  • he stops short of actually letting those thoughts materialize. it doesn’t matter how he would feel hypothetically, right now it was all about you and your tangible pain
  • it’s time for pragmatic Zen to step up
  • “MC…I feel terrible for you…I mean- I can’t even imagine how it would feel to have to give up on your dream. But that doesn’t mean that you should wallow in self-pity. How about this? Why don’t you become my manager? Sure, it’s not as rewarding as your research, and you’ll have to spend ALL day with me…”
  • you ponder, “would such a drastic career change be good for me?”
  • you weigh it up for a few minutes and Zen is starting to regret ever making such a stupid suggestion. “she won’t just drop everything for you, you piece of-”
  • “I’ll do it!”
  • he’s glad to see that you’ve still got some positivity in your mind

Jaehee:

  • it was your ambition to serve your country
  • so being told that you had failed the health exam crushed you
  • how were you going to explain to this to her?
  • she didn’t need this. the café was going so well for her
  • your mind was going a hundred miles an hour, so you didn’t even hear the front door opening
  • it was unusually dark inside the apartment
  • and when she turned the light on for the living room, her heart broke at the sight in front of her
  • you were sitting cross-legged on the floor, staring at the letter you’d received from the doctor
  • the instant you felt Jaehee’s presence, you swept the letter under the couch
  • but Jaehee’s reflexes were faster, grabbing the piece of paper before it could disappear
  • you were ready to run away
  • but she spoke up before you could react
  • “MC…I’m so sorry that this is happening to you.”
  • she was hesitant in holding about holding you in the fear that you would break out of her embrace
  • but you reciprocated and molded yourself to her body
  • Jaehee took this as a sign to wrap her arms around you and rock you from side to side, the way her mum used to comfort when she felt hopeless
  • an idea popped into Jaehee’s head
  • so she straightened you back up and held your shoulders
  • there was a passionate fire burning in her eyes
  • “MC, I know you’d planned to join me with operating the café after you’d gotten back from training, but if you don’t mind, how about you just start now?”
  • well when she put it that way
  • “thank you for always being so positive Jaehee.”
  • you fell back into her embrace and stayed there for a few minutes more

Jumin:

  • you were ready to be crushed by the universe
  • rejection letter after rejection piled up on your desk
  • your skills as an actuary were deteriorating before your eyes
  • not a single company was willing to hire you
  • a single hollow chuckle fell out of you as you sat at your desk
  • at that exact moment Jumin came through the front door
  • you hastily wiped your tears and went to greet him, helping him out of his coat
  • he was exhausted after dealing with clients all day
  • but the moment he made eye contact with you, he knew
  • you were crying again. and you were doing a horrendous job of hiding that fact from him
  • “MC, can we talk?”
  • oh shit. he’s mad. HIDE!
  • “w-we c-ca-ca-can, b-but are-aren’t yo-you tired? d-dinner’s ready…”
  • he was having none of this
  • your ass was dragged to the bedroom and you were flung onto the bed
  • you wanted to run away so bad
  • but you couldn’t. Jumin wrapped his arm around your waist and started cuddling you
  • this simple act of being close to you was just too much for you. you know he knew, but it felt so embarrassing to tell the man who was always successful
  • you just felt like another adversity: the wash-up of the relationship. the partner whose contributions were lacking
  • the pillow eventually became soaked with tears
  • “my dreams were never meant to be…” you wheezed out
  • Jumin turned you over, clearly distressed.
  • “what’s going on MC? you look so…broken…”
  • there was no way to avoid this. you explained between sobs about how companies kept rejecting you and that you felt hopeless because you worked so hard, only to get told that you weren’t good enough to work with them
  • as Jumin listened, he thought about what she could do
  • and then
  • he rushed out of the bedroom and into the office, locking the door
  • you started pacing outside the door
  • an hour later, he came out of the door with a piece of paper in his hand  
  • you looked down at it
  • it was an acceptance letter
  • “welcome to C & R, MC. I look forward to your work.”
  • you burst into tears and couldn’t stop yourself from enveloping him a hug

Seven:

  • it was mocking you
  • the grand piano taking up so much space in the living room
  • if your hands were still working, you would smash it to bits
  • I mean, why would your own immune system attack you to the point of paralyzing them?
  • the universe just loooooved to fuck with you
  • Seven could do nothing but gaze at you as you stared at the piano whenever you passed by it
  • he tried to get you tell him about all the pain you were holding in your heart
  • but he recognised that you were acting the same way he did when he was struggling with his emotional issues
  • and the fact that your emotional trauma was linked to horrific physical trauma made him feel worse
  • and seeing your hands in the braces
  • he wanted to grab god by the collar and punch them in the face
  • but he knows that won’t help
  • he realises that you’re still standing there
  • and when he turns you around to face him
  • holy fuck
  • your face is blank, save for the tears that just won’t stop spilling from your eyes
  • he reckons you’ve been standing for at least an hour now
  • so he escorts you to bed and makes you lie under the thickest blanket he owns
  • while you’re resting, he calls Saeran to help him with some manual labour
  • Saeran, clearly disgruntled, complains about having to do anything
  • until he finds out the reason
  • together, they move the piano out of the house and into an warehouse Seven just happens to have
  • he returns to throw himself into research to get a hold of all the doctors who can help his 606 get their happiness back

V:

  • ‘money makes the world go round’
  • yeah
  • and it made your brain roll around in your skull
  • why did it cost so fucking much to be in animation school?
  • there was so much debt your family was dealing with and the last thing you wanted to do was burden them even more
  • and to ask V…
  • nope. out of the question
  • if you were going to do this, then you’d figure it out somehow
  • but you couldn’t
  • and V could slowly see your façade falling apart
  • every time he’d try to bring it up, you’d shoot him down with a half-hearted giggle, and just continue with whatever task was in front of you
  • however, V was persistent
  • and now he regrets being persistent
  • you’ve locked yourself in the bathroom
  • he’s banging on the door, yelling for you to open the door
  • you ignore his request, so he tries again
  • “MC please say something, anything! You don’t have to open the door!”
  • he hears your body weight shift against the door, yet you refuse to still say anything to him.
  • “MC, I’m sorry…I’m sorry for confronting you. I know you want to have your independence, but I’d be more than willing to help you with the tuition fee.”
  • whoop there it is
  • you open the door, but the action is so sudden that V falls over
  • he stands back up and gathers you in his arms
  • he rubs circles on your back as he waits for your response
  • “Jihyun…I-I don’t want to be another person who just takes from you simply because you offer. Please, for my sake, don’t worry about me. I can handle this…somehow…” your voice trailing off broke V’s heart again
  • but he had an idea!
  • “MC, this is a crazy proposal, but hear me out. Why don’t we collab? Your characters coming to life inside my photos! And if you want to learn something, just search up a tutorial on Naver. It may not seem as prestigious as having the tutelage of all those artists, but hey, at least you’re not worrying about paying ludicrous amounts of money to learn how to draw.”
  • you just stare at him
  • he gets scared
  • “M-MC? Ah! I’m sorry for even suggesting that…”
  • but you kiss him on the lips before he can ramble out any more apologies
  • “it’s a great idea!”
  • he smiles in relief
  • “glad to see my little cactus flower flourishing again!”

Saeran:

  • when Saeran first learned about your dream career, he couldn’t understand why you would pursue such a career
  • no matter how many times you explained to him
  • “so you’re telling me that your dream is to stand around all day and have someone take photos of you in different clothes? I can do that for you right now!”
  • when he saw your expression drop, it took him a bit of brainpower to understand it wasn’t right for him to judge what you wanted out of life
  • you had asked him to accompany you to the interview that would determine the way the rest of your life panned out
  • he sat outside, visibly tensed
  • and that tenseness only grew when he saw you walk out of the room, a ghost of a smile sitting on your face
  • “MC, how did it go?”
  • you turn to him, keeping up appearances so that he doesn’t suspect that you’re falling apart
  • however, he’s painfully aware that you’re struggling to keep your composure
  • so the moment the two of you enter through the front door, he corners you
  • you try to wriggle away, but he holds you against the wall by your shoulders
  • “MC you can’t hide things from me.”
  • you feel increasingly uncomfortable
  • your resolve falling apart
  • bursting into tears, you nearly collapse
  • but his reflexes kick in and he grabs you before you can make contact with the floor
  • “the-they told me I was too fat to join…that my presence would ruin the company…”
  • Saeran is riled up by your confession. he’s ready to hurt everyone
  • but he manages to reel himself back to reality, back to you
  • he leads you to the kitchen and feeds you ice cream
  • you feel so empty after all that crying
  • and all you can register is Saeran’s firm grip around your waist
  • for now, he’ll just stand by your side
I’ve Got My Ion You - Mingyu

In which reader is a science major and Mingyu decides to try impress her with science pick up lines. WARNING: THIS CONTAINS SO MANY PUNS I HATE MYSELF FOR WRITING THIS LMAO


“Are you busy?” Mingyu’s head stuck around the door of your lab, empty with the exception of you due to it being lunch, making you look up from the microscope you were looking through with a small smile. 

“Not really. Why, what’s up?” You turned on your chair, still smiling as he came closer to you. He pulled up a chair and sat opposite you.

“It took me so long to think of all these, so listen.” he smirked, scooting his chair closer and leaning forward. “ Are you made of Copper and Tellurium? Because you are Cu-Te~” He said with an over-exaggerated wink, making you groan.

“Mingyu, please-”

“I have more!”

“I’m a biology major.” You pointed out with a light laugh.You gestured to the equipment before you - your microscope, a few petri dishes, random cell specimens you were examining for fun - how, after two years of being close friends, he didn’t yet know your field you didn’t know. However he seemed unfazed, continuing with his cheesy grin growing with every line he came out with.

“ Your’e so hot your making my emzymes denature.”

“Well then you’re gonna die soon, aren’t you?” you chuckled, making him frown. You were trying to hide the blush that was creeping up your neck, finding him incredibly endearing and the amount of effort he was putting in adorable.

“Please stop blocking all of these. They’re great.”

“Are you trying to say that you like me, Mingyu?” you asked, closing the gap in between you by standing up and moving to stand between his spread legs. He nodded, crazily charismatic smile showing itself as he took your hands in his.

“If I had to choose between DNA and RNA, I’d choose RNA because it has U in it.”

“I doubt you even understand that one.”  You rolled your eyes, trying to act indifferent despite his hilarious flirting. How you hadn’t already kissed him you didn’t know.

“Protein synthesis!” he shouted, excited. You jumped at his suddenly raised voice, raising an eyebrow as you looked down at him. 

“Okay, so maybe you do!”

“Of course. I take interest in what you take interest in. Besides, I decided that would impress you more,” He said, smile growing as he squeezed your hands gently and stood up to match your height (kinda).

“Mingyu, stop making me cringe and kiss me already?” you giggled. “You’re cute, but I want to curl up in that corner right now…” He stopped you continuing by giving you what you wanted, leaning down to connect your lips. 

“You loved it. You can’t hide the pink on your cheeks. You’re welcome. We’re dating now. I’ll come by after classes and we’ll walk home together, okay?”

Originally posted by seokmin---s

Ok so my friend and I were seeing who could be the punniest in geography today, going through math and science puns alike, then this happened! I’m sorry XD

-Admin Belle

The Types as Marina and the Diamonds Lyrics
  • ISTJ: "One track mind like a gold fish, stuck inside my petri dish. I can't breathe and I can't smile. This better be worth my while."
  • ESTJ: "I know exactly what I want and who I want to be. I know exactly why I walk and talk like a machine. I'm now becoming my own self-fulfilled prophecy."
  • INFP: "I live my life inside a dream, only waking when I sleep. I would sell my sorry soul if I could have it all."
  • ENFP: "People like to tell you what you're gonna be. It's not my problem if you don't see what I see and I do not give a damn if you don't believe."
  • ISFJ: "But deep down all you want is love, the pure kind we all dream of. But we cannot escape the past, so you and I will never last."
  • ESFJ: "Sometimes I think I'm not that strong, but there's a force that carries me on. Sick of my small heart made of steel, sick of those wounds that never heal."
  • INTP: "Oh, all the time that I have wasted, chasing rabbits down a hole when I was born to be the tortoise. I was born to walk alone."
  • ENTP: "I am never gonna give you anything you expect. You think I'm like the others, boy, you need to get your eyes checked."
  • ISTP: "Cause it's my problem if I wanna pack up and run away. It's my business if I feel the need to smoke and drink and sway."
  • ESTP: "Don't get on my bad side--I can work a gun. Hop into the backseat, baby, I'll show you some fun."
  • INFJ: "Don't want cash, don't want card. Want it fast, want it hard. Don't need money, don't need fame. I just want to make a change."
  • ENFJ: "I wanna live forever, forever in your heart. And we'll always be together from the end to the start."
  • INTJ: "One track mind, one track heart. If I fail, I'll fall apart. Maybe it is all a test. Cause I feel like I'm the worst so I always act like I'm the best."
  • ENTJ: "High achiever, can't you see, baby, nothing comes for free. They say I'm a control freak driven by a greed to succeed. Nobody can stop me."
  • ISFP: "I wanna mean something to somebody else, feel a significance in the real world. It's not enough to live out a lucky life."
  • ESFP: "You can paint me any color and I can be your clown, but you ain't got my number. Yeah, you can't pin me down."
Creepypasta #456: Joshua

I always liked Joshua. He was a nice kid, if a bit slow. He was radically unpopular the way one person always is in a school. Too beefy to be good at any sports, too clumsy even if he slimmed down. Hardly smart enough to even stay with the rest of his class, consistently scraping by with D’s across the board. His writing was particularly chicken-scratch. He spoke well enough, but it seemed like he couldn’t make those same sentences on paper.

But I liked his big, goofy, uncoordinated self.

Some kids might smack his books out of his hands (unnecessary, he likely would have dropped them in a few moments without any help, tripping over his own feet) or slap an “I’m Stupid!” sign on his back (again, unnecessary. According to rumor, he had the lowest scores in every subject, and everyone knew it), and I would always help him gather his stuff back up, or tip him off there was something on his back.

When I woke up this morning, I found a letter taped to the outside of my window. It’s not easy to reach that window from the tree branches hanging nearby…

Amanda,

Don’t come to school today. You’re the only one, the only one, who ever treated me like a human.

I’m sorry to say I’ve been planning this for a long, long time. I knew I was in a group of bad people, but I wanted to see how bad. How they’d treat someone they consider inferior. It was all a ruse.

In this petri dish, you are the only thing worth saving.

·         Love, Joshua

­­–

Credits to: Mattpayhan

okay but truly, saying dean and crowley had a orgy tells me something so very fundamentally important that it should not and cannot be overlooked and must be mentioned and screamed from the rooftops

there is nothing in dean’s face that in any way makes me think or believe like this was the first time this has happened or some unspeakable thing he has never done before, Crowley, in a non-flirty non-Crowley sort of way used the words “what has bloomed between us” called Dean “mine” responded “whats going on here” when Dean was having sex with Anne Marie, asked about Anne Marie in which Dean replied “Yeah well, not to worry she means nothing” and Crowley had to clarify when he said “we need to talk about our future” that he meant professionally.

Okay just for starters, there is WAY more than a “haha Crowley is always so flirty” connotation to this many not so “haha funny” references to Dean and Crowley’s relationship

My point was that this isn’t the first time Dean has had orgies like that or had sex with men but also jfc Dean and Crowley have a fucked up weird relationship. I’m like 95% sure he just asked Dean to be his queen.

Crowley: Think of it, the King of Hell, Dean Winchester by his side. Together, we rule together, we create the perfect Hell. And all of this, that’s bloomed between us, never ends. 

Also because I wanted to see all the scenes in writing to get a feel for them this is every single Dean x Crowley line from 10x01 under the cut.

Also spn did the impossible, they literally no homo’d Dean physically having sex with a man. Now THATS impressive.

Keep reading

Worst Kept Secret

Because it’s Sam’s @ticklishblaine birthday and she’s my best friend and thus pretty much the only person that could talk me into revisiting this verse. Part of the Morphine as Truth Serum verse. Darren’s first day back on set. 2K [AO3]

“Are you sure you don’t want to just sleep over tonight?” Darren asks coyly as Chris begins gathering his things to leave. Given that they’ve spent the better part of their weekend at Darren’s condo, that turns out to be quite a lot of things to gather.

“Don’t give me the puppy dog eyes, Mister. I’m already immune,” Chris grumbles, still searching for his missing shoe. He finds it has disappeared to underneath Darren’s couch. If Chris didn’t know better, he’d think Darren maybe hid it there on purpose. Darren’s place is a bottomless pit of junk to be honest, sparsely furnished but with musical instruments, hoodies, and video games covering every available surface, meaning he can’t be positive the disappearing act was intentional. Chris had naively thought after five days of recuperating at his house, maybe Darren would want to sleep in his own bed. He’s been regretting that suggestion ever since the moment they entered Darren’s place. Frat boy chic is really not Chris’s thing, even if Darren doesn’t seem to mind the clutter.

“Yeah right, if I so much as got a twinge in my side, I bet you’d move in,” Darren shoots back cockily.

“Wait, does your side hurt?” Chris blurts out before he can stop himself.

“Ahaha,” Darren laughs, long and hard. “Nailed it.”

Keep reading

Because I feel like it, here are some mundane platonic roommates riarkle headcanons:

  • Farkle is a night owl who stays up late working. If left to his own devices he’ll stay up all night, or until he falls asleep over his work. Riley is up early every morning. Farkle is a light sleeper, but she tries to be as quiet as possible
  • Farkle steals Riley’s cereal. He totally judges her for keeping Lucky Charms in the house (for midnight snacks–she’s an eggs and toast for breakfast kind of girl), but he secretly eats them. He thinks she doesn’t know, but she’s totally wise to it.
  • Recurring arguments include:
    • “you’re using all the hot water, Riley!” “My hair is long! It takes forever to wash”
    • “I can’t believe you’re making me do your laundry AGAIN, Farkle” “You don’t have to do anything.” “Your room is a mess and I can’t stand it and we both know it.”
    • “Farkle, what the hell is on the kitchen counter?” “just some petri dishes. little experiment with some mold and agar gel, it’s for class!” Riley just sighs.
  • They always end up coordinating their Halloween costumes because Farkle always forgets until a week before Halloween so at this point Riley just gets his costume together when she’s doing her own
  • Riley accidentally locks herself out pretty regularly and Farkle has to save her
  • Maya has a key and sometimes Farkle walks into his apartment to see and unexpected Maya Hart eating cheese doodles on his couch
  • Sometimes Riley has nightmares and crawls into bed with Farkle for comfort. He’s really good at cuddling the fear away.
  • There’s a Chinese place just down the block that they order from and unhealthy amount. They’re on a first name basis with most of the people who work there.
  • One time Riley walked into the apartment to see Farkle making out with some girl on the couch and it was incredibly awkward for everyone involved (and mildly painful for Riley)
  • On Fridays nights they watch movies together and take turns picking which movies they’ll watch
  • Farkle does most of the grocery shopping because he likes weird things
  • When they can, they cook dinner together, but often they’re too busy and so they just order from the Chinese place
  • One night in the middle of January they get in this horrible fight and Riley storms out of the apartment (being the melodramatic person she is) and Farkle can’t even wait 5 minutes before following her out and apologizing “if you stay out any long you’ll freeze” 
  • They get trapped in a few storms together and it’s not as bad as you’d think

“Petey! I saw you left all your petri dishes in the oven for some reason?? So I took them out and drew happy faces on them! All thirty-two. Each and every one.”

“… This was the incubator, Wade. They had just one more day to go.”


for icarusforgotten. stay strong pumpking-pie, until the day the patriarchy would die.

10 Questions with Nobel winner Randy Schekman


The UC Berkeley Nobel laureate who identified how cells transport and secrete proteins answers a few questions.

What is the most exciting field of science at the moment?
Neuroscience. There is so much that we don’t know about the brain.

Do you believe in God?
No, I don’t. But I respect others who do, in particular if they don’t impose their views. I believe strongly in the separation of church and state.

What book about science should everyone read?
People who are interested in the life sciences will enjoy The Double Helix by James Watson; The Eighth Day of Creation by Horace Judson (it covers the history of molecular biology), and The Statue Within, the autobiography of Nobel laureate François Jacob (right), which is beautifully written.

Has Cern been worth the money?
Yes. Just the idea that you can probe the structure of atoms to that degree… Look at all the money we waste on the military, on the prison system.

What words of advice would you give to a teenager who wants a career in science?
I think having a mentor from an early age is very important.

Do you have a fantasy experiment or study that you have been unable to do for logistical/ethical/ cost reasons?
No. I like the simple experiments and my ideas tend to be very practical. Our very first experiments involved petri dishes, incubators, toothpicks and simple chemicals.

What scientific advance would make the most difference to your daily life?
My wife has dementia, so breakthroughs in understanding Parkinson’s disease would change my daily life measurably. With a disease like Parkinson’s or Alzheimer’s, if you had a way of arresting the process – even if you couldn’t prevent it – it would not be a disease at all.

Are you worried about population increase?
Yes. Having effective birth control is crucial. And our agricultural productivity will not keep up unless people lose their irrational fear of GM foods.

Would you like to go on the first one-way journey to Mars?
No. I like it here on Earth, and besides, the trip itself would almost inevitably kill you, because of all the exposure to cosmic radiation.

If I called you a geek would you hold it against me?
No. When I was in high school I got called a nerd. But after I won the Nobel prize they invited me back. I rode up in a limousine and was greeted by a marching band and pompom girls. Kids wanted to take selfies with me. I had replaced Tiger Woods as their most famous graduate… for a day!

Randy Schekman: first, a breakthrough in cell research. Now for one in publishing

“you eat this shit?” & the science of stomaching racism

middle school came and we were making ice cream in class, shaking sandwich bags full of salt and crushed ice. each period passed with another group of bright eyed 12 year olds scooping out cold, pasty white stuff on their finger tips, bragging about eating ice cream in class until there was nothing left to brag about and no one to brag to. 

i liked the shaking more than i like the science. my biology class made it routine to want to eat the things we made, excavated and picked at from shoestring thin teacher budget ingredients. pop rocks and soda, cookies and chocolate chips. 

one year we made agar plates for studying bacteria. and that year i was alone about wanting to eat the things we made. 

i grew up with agar agar powder being a household, staple item. 49 cents a packet from the local super market and my mom could make 2 big phở-sized bowls of rau câu which was really just sweetened clear jello. sometimes she would brew a big batch of cà phê sữa đá and make a layered jello of coffee and coconut milk. a genius, my mom. 

when rau câu settles and cools, the top layer is always a little tougher, it was smooth to the touch and was fun to save for last. 

so when we made agar plates that one year and i said, “this is actually really delicious,” they asked me, “you eat this shit?” and this fun science experience turned into silence; the pouring of hot water, the mixing of powder turned into still, hidden hands as if they could see all of the times i’ve peeked over kitchen counters with my tiny, greedy, chubby fingertips waiting to hold jello in my hands; what was commonplace in my fridge, at parties and after school for snacking became petri dishes only fit for bacteria and mold, distant and microscopic.

they won’t tell you science is racist but they will ask, “you eat this shit?” and make your body and your mother and your people feel primitive, fitting enough to be distant and microscopic; exotic, foreign, alien enough to be poured and mixed, probed and left alone to harbor and harbor nastiness. 

science will make you shrink and i trust no one who’s never been delegitimized by it. 

“you eat this shit?” so i swallow my tongue and say, “maybe i’m mistaking it for something else.” and they all laugh that laugh that they do - when it’s not really funny but a little more discomforting, awkward, questionable. i smile along, move my eyes away from the plate, dust powder off my hands: removing evidence that i knew agar agar to be anything but the filling for petri dishes ready to hold bacteria for science. 

i wonder had it been different if i chose a different word. if i had said, “my mom makes this jello” instead of “my mom makes this agar.” i wonder if that would’ve made them trust me over science, believe me over directions. even now, today, searching for photos of rau câu i tried to find more appetizing ones. 

of all of the ways i have been taught in my science classes to think about my body, my gender, my sex, my race, my heritage: this memory of being silenced by science, being pushed aside for the validity of some discipline dominated by white bodies for the purpose of white bodies sticks with me the strongest - not because of the question those kids ask but because of the disgust and discomfort on their faces that follow my gut everywhere, fighting still to make itself more room than the delight and joy that rau câu and agar agar brings to it. 

science does not sit well in my stomach yet it follows me everywhere. and i have cooled and settled too, my surface a little tougher and i save it for last to be broken.