#doctoral candidate

[virgomagick]

things have been moving slow over here. im teaching a class about scientific racism with 80 students in 8 weeks so it’s tough. i have 75+ more final papers to grade before 11:59 pm.

once i finish grading, i’ll be able to submit a research amendment for my dissertation to virtually consent people instead of in person.

[stoicmike]

If this is the best of all possible worlds the universe is in serious trouble. -- Michael Lipsey

[viceroywrites]

vbros fans: what do you think sheila's doctorate is in?

(we know it's not medical from return to malice)

[unganseylike]

when i get my doctorate im signing off all my posts as Dr. unganseylike, PhD. to give them more credibility.

[canyousonicme]

Bless. Alex Kingston on route to buy a cookery book. 😏

[anteroom-of-death]

Teacher's Pet part 6

Synopsis: The game is set, and the players are playing. The Doctor and the Reader...what will go on?

A/n: I'm laughing evily. Also, I'm in good spirits, had a phenomenal day. This one is a bit longer. Turns out if you have little responsibility, besides yourself, you can bang out a banger. Also, listen to Maria by Justin Bieber.

You saw the Gmail alert go off on your phone as you changed into a suitable cute outfit and did your first layer of work make up. You were out of luck, there was a new girl in and she was getting the VIP treatment with the largest suite offered. You were moisturizing yourself before you dared to look. You really couldn’t be arsed if it was a personal email on your private account. And you didn’t need the anxiety if it was on your school account. You were angry that you didn’t have enough room to stretch out or put emotional distance between a man and you, if the situation provided required it.

You got yourself perfect, as there were already some cars in the car park. Probably a bit of stress relief before these men went home to their wives and kids. They’d blame traffic. Probably.

You didn’t know or care. Their lives seemed like parallel universes. Hypothetical. Unproven. Just a theory.

You decided to give yourself another dusting of antiperspirant before checking your phone.

It was fucking him…

You opened it,

“Dear (y/n),

It’s a shame that you’re not well. I’ll see you at the same time as last week. Secure the notes from someone.

Cordially yours,

Professor Smith.”

And that’s the name of that tune, you bitterly scoffed. You tossed your phone onto the table you had it rest on with the rest of your needs for work.

Seemed up his alley to wreck your focus! With his stupid face and stupid lust for life!

Plus, being on your phone was not focused on your bag.

Out of sight, out of mind..

You said “Hello” to the security guy again on your way to the bar. A few men were there and you had hours to go before your first appointment. One of the other girls working was talking to two at once. One was in deep discussion with the bartender and the phone girl.

One man was nursing a beer and was watching something on his phone. A target.

Good.

You walked over and put in the work. He was easily satisfied and went back to the bar and nursed another beer before getting up and leaving.

You actually had a good day and napped easily before you went on your second shift. You had plenty of money and dropped a fat, crisp twenty note in front of the homeless person outside the shops.

You bought a pack of cigarettes and smoked one on your way back to the cloister of your “office”. You let out a shaky cough. It had been over a week since your last one, so obviously, the smoke hit your lungs harshly.

Damn that man!

You napped some more before returning to work. Fresh outfit, even more make up. A spritz of perfume to hide the scent of smoke in the hair…

A whole routine.

Friday night was lucrative to the point of pain. You had to tell your manager and booking girl that you were going on a walk and needed a break.

You took your phone, bundled up, and your headphones.

It was after midnight, dangerous, but whatever. Keep to the area.

You had a wonderful time, the few cigarettes you consumed and the Fanta you drank restored you. The music was a good thing.

Suddenly the air felt heavy. And you felt observed. Something on the back of your neck. The hairs. It felt perverse. You paused your music and took out your headphones long enough to hear a weird, distinctive “vwrorrp-vworrp” followed by what sounded like a car wheezing.

Whatever the hell it was-it freaked you out enough to go back in the safety of the car park.

You finished up and went back. Had a quick shower and started preparing for the next chapter of your work shift.

You hated the stupid schedule system, but shifts like this made it all worth it.

Saturday was just a bit slower and Sunday, outside some bookings that were already scheduled was glacial and dry. Bad fishing.

Thank heavens for Thursday and Friday! You thought. You made bank, and had some fun. Always a good thing. And the manager got you all some fancy pizza in celebration of the new girl surviving her first rotation. And her deciding that all this was worth some more time to sell.

The manager really must have taken a shine to her. That never happened.

All in all? Good work. You could rest easy for the rest of the week. And pay off bills. And afford to shop at a fancy health food store instead of probably junk, loaded with shit, that’ll kill you quicker.

Yippee!

You had barely thought of your little distraction all weekend, until Monday.

Your alarm went off. And you remembered you hadn’t responded to him.

“Thanks! Sorry for the late reply! I was busy! I’ll be there!” It was quick, apologetic and mostly-honest.

Him.

You cursed yourself out. The minute he came into focus, you were a bigger mess than you were ever before!

You messaged someone who you knew had probably had the notes from Thursday. No such luck. And your little meeting was looming large.

You’d have to tell him the truth, you fucked up. No notes.

Deciding to revel in the mundane, before leaving, you made yourself a nice cup of mint tea with honey. You sat in a corner wrapped in your blanket and luxuriate in the warmth of the tea and the rest of the blanket pile. You wasted a few minutes on social media. Drowning your brain cells seemed like a good idea. A distraction for you from the returned knot in your stomach and hole in your heart that your stupid crush on Professor Smith had caused. A very welcome one.

After all, you did have couple thousand pound weekend! A freak occurrence! Rare! So why not indulge in some mindless self care?

After a while, you made the smart choice and readied yourself for school and the war zone that being locked in the office with him would be.

The class you had in the morning slipped by with your focus becoming increasingly erratic. You didn’t want to go, but you trudged into the bathroom to psych yourself up. Not out..

Finally stable, you trudged your way to your new Hell. A concept that, up until this semester, was comical to you.

You felt like a clown.

Booboo the Fool.

You had to laugh at yourself. Buy yourself a clown nose and ship yourself off to the circus!

Pathetic!

You knocked raptly. Maybe you’d just go into a manic state or overdrive and the time would fly away and you’d go back to life. And he would potentially be scared of you enough to back off and not encourage any more meetings besides what your schedule permitted…

He welcomed you in, offered to take your jacket and pulled out the chair for you.

“I had my assistant get me some hot chocolate for us.” He gestured over to some disposable cups lodged into one of those cardboard cup holder things.

The fuck was he doing? Had you passed out and entered dream world? Was he tormenting you? Did he know that you were just head over heels for him?

“Thanks…” You said and took it. You off-handedly wished you had those strips that you could test if a drink had been fucked with. Not that you’d accuse him of it. Or rather that you leapt to the conclusion that he was trying to. Life had taught you that free drinks from men sometimes came with consequences.

You reassured yourself that he was still besotted with his dead wife. The total badass.

You envied her. She got what you clearly desired.

You swallowed a sip.

He seemed casual. Had a simple jumper on over his body and a pair of dark jeans. You noticed he wore Doc Martens. Very ageing punk rocker. The jumper hung on his chest quite well. He was skinny, but you could see his chest was sturdy.

“So, did you get your notes?” He smiled, all of his teeth showing. He seemed to know something. There was a bizarre glint in his eye. It was as freaky as it was mesmerizing.

“No, didn’t get a chance. I’m going to the school tutoring soon. I’ll talk to them about it. My fault. The weekend got away from me. I was swamped at work. And then I forgot. I’m sorry.” You blabbered on, deeply apologetic.

You prayed in your mind that if Gd was listening, for him to open a hole up in the planet, swallow you whole, and that you were sorry for that one time you accidentally ate a cheeseburger drunk.

Among other sins…

“Then I have to educate you from scratch. You remember on Tuesday we were talking about the nature of the universe and what it owes us? If it owes us?”

“Yes.” You added a keen head-shake. Remembering how you fled the room and had a mental breakdown.

“What if you put in the work? For years. Centuries even. Battled with the darkness in yourself and others. Saved all you could save. Then what? Would the universe grant you a favor? What would you do to garner that favor?”

You were losing the plot. Clearly.

“What if you were timid and didn’t mean to tread on things? Just survived. Suffered a bit, nothing to write home about, but still enough to Mar your soul? Did what you had to. Would the universe grant you mercy in form of a favor?”

Seemed like this was bordering on less of philosophy and more of theology. Something a small child would pester their rabbi or priest or imam or whatever about. But that was first glance.

Secondary seemed like it was flying too close to the sun.

Self-descriptive much?

God complex?

You slung an arm on your chair and settled back. A game? Is that was he was getting at?

“If the universe owed someone something, that would be antithetical. If you’re bargaining with a God, which is what it seems that you are proposing…Gods usually don’t answer you unless you give them a good offer first.” Your tongue clicked forward, you could feel your eyes making a push forward, widening.

You could play along.

“Are you making an offering to a deity? Dear professor…” You crossed your arms and leaned forward.

You saw something pass over his face. A trillion different micro-calculations. Several amused and several dark looks.

He swallowed.

What was his deal? You mused before trying a new string of words.

“Or are you the God here?” You blasphemed…pursing your lips. Biting the skin under them.

More emotions shot through his painfully attractive face. The lines on his face seemed to glimmer deeper.

He swallowed harder. A singular eyebrow arched up.

Seriously, those things were weapons.

“What if I am?” He breathed out.

“Does that make your students your devotees?” You pushed a bit further…

He slinked over to the chair and leaned forward. Fully turning his eyes unto your soul. “Oh, maybe you’d enjoy that.” He smoothed out his voice, directly into your mind. It seemed to echo into the corners of your skull. Vibrating.

You would enjoy it. Too much.

Your body and mind felt flushed and overheated. The office seemed to get as hot as a midsummer day on the beach.

“So, does the universe get what it’s owed, (y/n)?”

Your breathing quickened and your throat got dry. You reached (well more like flailed…) for your beverage. A big gulp, not breaking eye contact.

“Are you a devotee? To come worship at the altar?” He questioned further. Placing both of those incredible hands at the sides of the chair. Leaning further forward. His cool breath hitting your face. It smelled fresh. Not like good oral hygienic skills, but something foreign and strong. Striking, and a little addictive. You could spend the rest of your life trying to find a word to describe it further, or something to compare the scent to. It’s was…incredible. And maybe edible.

Barely two inches stayed between your noses. If you were a computer, you would have blue screened.

Your were human, and could afford no such luxury, sadly.

The pit of your stomach closed up.

An increasingly rare, but familiar throb coursed through you as warmth accelerated its way through your body. Rocking your core. Your heart was rocketing for the moon. You started to sweat. Literally.

You clenched yourself. Literally squeezed your legs together. To stop yourself from coming undone. From going deeper under this spell he cast on you.

But too late!

Far too late!

You already were becoming quite undone. Wet in more ways than just the sweat now forming on your brow and your back.

You knew what he was getting at. But didn’t want to conceded the victory to him…

Why did he make you buckle?

And more importantly, why did he seem to want you to buckle?

The trap was set, it was elaborate and elegant. He even provided drink and ambiance! How could you be so blind?

Especially you!

A shoe on the other foot…

You felt in a verbal checkmate.

“Maybe.” You choked out finally after a short eternity. Your heart raced faster still, threatening to break through it’s cage.

“Maybe isn’t good enough.” Another breath washed over your face. The gap between your noses closed to barely an inch.

You buckled…

[lilbitofmac]

A spell seems to have gone wrong… Tony certainly isn’t helping this catastrophe smfh 🙄

[stillthesunkenstars]

to groom or not to groom…. that’s the quastion .

[casasupernovas]

nah this whole series is the doctor trying to convince the audience (and himself) that he had no intention of moving on, or that he wasn't interested in martha but I CAUGHT YOU IN 4K MOTHERFUC-

[sergle]

girl i dont know how you didnt slap that doctor in the face after telling you to lose weight id be so mad

tbh that was the part of the appointment that I EXPECTED, it's just so routine to be quizzed about my weight anytime I'm doing something medical. the part that I didn't expect was the nip-handling and him telling me I'd have undesirable results if I got a reduction, and would need implants, adding the cost of a whole new surgery onto my hypothetical plans.

[foreverknightalways]

Back at Nick's loft, Nick continues to go through a video of Barbara Norton. Fast forwarding the video, hoping for something to stick out.

[starleska]

tonight we voted to watch a Twelve episode of Doctor Who in my Toymaker server, and i'd never seen a Twelve episode before…

…the episode chosen was Heaven Sent.

…i genuinely think this might be the best episode of Doctor Who ever made. i don't know what to do with myself. 😭😭😭

[eightdoctor]

eighth doctor girlies snubbed once again!

[rearranging-deck-chairs]

considering the doctors sort of cargo cult approach to tardis piloting if river and clara ever ran into yaz the first thing they'd say is like sorry babe but youve got some bad habits to unlearn

and clara is like dont worry he did that to me too. he just really doesnt know what hes doing actually

and yaz is like she. and river and clara look at each other like she

[gnougnouss]

Finally getting around to watching that "Sherlock is garbage and here is why video" and hearing him say that "ultimately he was just a guy" about the doctor in RTD era is a REVELATION. THAT'S where all of you get your stupid ass takes I see.

Foud the culprit. The popularity of this video has done untold damage to the dw fandom on this website istg