*Eustass is over at Law’s apartment and is looking around*
Eustass gesturing to a bunch of old text books: What is all this?
Law not bothering to look over: Old school stuff
Eustass: And you haven’t burned it yet?
Law turning to look at him: Some of us had to go through grueling higher education where referencing old class material was required.
Eustass flipping open one of the books: Do you still know how to do this?
Law walking over to where Eustass is: Yes, and before you ask if I can prove it. This is an SN1 reaction in which a carbon cation is formed by the leaving group, that Br. To then attack the nucleophile. I am still haunted by Organic Chemistry.
Eustass in shock: The what "ophile" and what do you mean organic? Like the grocery stores?
Law removing the book from his hands: Just don't try genuinely.
Eustass: So why did you need to know that?
Law: I ask myself every damn day.
Only cause Law was a premed at some point so he had to suffer through this shit too…
hey guys ! very unfortunately, i'm entering midterm week so two-faced updates will be super inconsistent across the next few days. i will try to update as much as i can but i'm worried if i do, then all the chapters will be about organic chemistry or anatomy so. yk.
think of it like gojo n the gang are also going through their midterms so they do not have time to go on twt (soon to be called x like wtf is that) and be silly
thank you for all the love on two-faced as always !! love u guys 🤍
[ starter privado 1/2 ] ‘ esto sí que es una sorpresa ’ alega, habiendo de bajar las lentes de sol por el puente de la nariz para divisar la silueta masculina. no esconde la gracia que perfila labios ni si quiera cuando se acerca un par de pasos a él. ‘ dime que trabajas aquí y no que estás stalkeándome ’ porque mira que acabar dentro de alew sí que era una consecuencia. claro, debió haber estado perdido en la montaña. ‘ déjame adivinar, ¿cocinero? ¿jardinero? no, no, das masajes de ensueño ’ @sn1-per
“me voy a cortar la yugular” la queja abandona sus labios por lo bajo, entre dientes y molares, luces intrusas hacen de su cabeza un taladro constante, parece una discoteca, pero sin todos los ingredientes que hacen esos lugares algo interesantes. “esta puerta ya me la crucé siete veces, estoy hasta...” oración incompleta, suelta un suspiro. y no, usar la fuerza posiblemente no sea la mejor idea, pero le tienta como el infierno. "¿y tú qué?" interpela directamente cuando siente siquiera un segundo de prolongación de mirada sobre su persona.