#titration definition

[unproduciblesmackdown]

looking like another genevieve rafter keddy photo i haven't seen elsewhere already (where are we getting these lol) and when things seem to be the krampus onstage with a mic i am Looking. i am looking directly at that....

[voidspacecowboy]

Not me coming to the realisation that I need to go back on anti-depressants right around the time we are gearing up to move in a couple months and I will soon be switching GPs

Just gotta hold on til April/May I guess 🙃

[toastsnaffler]

and the moral of the story is to always question every single thing private healthcare providers tell u as fact esp if it involves ur time/money and someone not involved in ur case is telling u 👍

[zaczenemiji]

Curtain Calls and Curveballs I

Kenji Sato x Actress!Reader

Synopsis: In your high school years, you and Kenji Sato are fierce rivals, constantly competing for top academic honors and excelling in your respective extracurriculars. Little did you know, you rivalry would take an unexpected turn.

Word Count: 1,836

Genre/Warning: Coming of Age, Enemies to Lover, Eventual Romance, Slow Burn

Author’s Note: A lot of you have been requesting for an enemies to lover themed fanfic so here’s a two-part one made for y’all <3

MASTERLIST

“Anyone can pretend to be someone else.”

“Well, it doesn’t take much brainpower to throw a ball.”

How could you forget the feud that started it all? Your spot as a top-ranking student back in high school was suddenly disturbed by the arrival of a certain Japanese student.

You didn’t mind it at first, only perceiving it as a challenge that would lead to the betterment of yourself. You know, kinda like what they say—smooth seas never made a skilled sailor thing.

But little did the teen you know that Kenji Sato would become a force of a tsunami in your life.

The little frowns when one scored higher than the other on quizzes became a competition that was the backbone of your interactions—the core aspect of your enmity.

The two of you were naturally gifted students with too much competitive spirits. Your performances were closely monitored by peers and teachers who eagerly anticipated the next round of test scores to see who would come out on top.

Needless to say, your little rivalry became a show that everyone liked to watch—a TV drama that keeps them glued on the couch, and a baseball game that keeps them at the edge of their seats.

What started as frowns became bickers and a constant exchange of provocative teasing. A day at school wouldn’t be complete without exchanging sarcastic remarks with one another.

“Better not mess this up, (y/n). Wouldn’t want to lose those precious extra points,” Kenji said in one of your chemistry labs.

You rolled your eyes as you set up your titration apparatus. “Don’t worry about me, Kenji,” you replied. “Just make sure you know the difference between an acid and a base.”

Despite the academic rivalries, your favorite thing to one each other up on despite being on totally different sides of the scale, is your clubs.

With Kenji being the star of the baseball team and you the leading actress of the drama club, the two of you were set to speak at the pep rally to represent your respective team and club.

“And now, let's hear from our star pitcher, Kenji Sato!”

Kenji steps up to the microphone, flashing a confident smile. "Thanks, Mr. Principal,” he said. “Our team has been working hard, and we're ready to bring home another championship. Let's hear it for the baseball team!”

The crowd roared with approval. Sports enthusiasts loved Kenji and he is definitely the face of sports in your school. That’s one thing you couldn’t argue about. You’ve been trying to name a player better than him at school but unfortunately, there was none.

Kenji stepped back and the principal proceeded to introduce you, "Next, we have our leading actress, (y/n) (l/n), to tell us about the upcoming play."

You strode to the microphone, poised and charismatic. "Thank you, Mr. Principal,” you started. “This year's play, 'Romeo and Juliet, is a labor of love for the drama club. We've poured our hearts into it, and we hope you'll all come to see it.”

“Break a leg to the baseball team, and we hope to see some of you at the theater!" You added.

The crowd cheers again, though with less intensity than for Kenji. Kenji leaned over when you stepped back beside him.

“Break a leg, huh?” He whispered just loud enough for you to hear. “Isn’t that a bit risky for an actress?”

“It’s tradition,” you smirked. “Besides, I'd like to see you try and memorize Shakespeare."

Kenji laughed, "Maybe next time. For now, I'll stick to throwing strikes."

A week after the pep rally came Kenji’s game.

He winded up and delivered a fastball that struck out the batter, securing the win for his team. The crowd erupted in applause, chanting his name.

On his way to the locker room, he comes across you. He saw you in the bleachers earlier, watching with a critical eye.

“Enjoyed the show, (y/n)?” He asked, smirking.

“It was fine, I guess,” you said, rolling your eyes. “If you’re into that sort of thing.”

Kenji chuckled, “Don't worry, I'll save a seat for you at the next game.”

"I'd rather spend my time watching paint dry,” you said, crossing your arms. “Good luck with that, though."

A few days after the game came the premiere of the school's production. Every time the curtains rose, you stopped out not as (y/n) but as the character whom you portrayed—Juliet.

After the final act, the audience gave a standing ovation. You took a bow, eyes scanning the crowd. At the back, you spotted Kenji clapping politely.

You basked in the praises of the director and your friends for the job you did well. As you exit the stage, you find Kenji waiting in the wings. “Not bad,” he said, raising his brows. “For a drama nerd.”

You smirked in return. “Glad you could tear yourself away from the baseball field to appreciate some real talent."

"I figured I'd see what all the fuss was about,” he chuckled. “You didn't disappoint."

"Is that a compliment, Sato?” You asked, eyes narrowing playfully. “From you?”

“Don’t get used to it,” Kenji shrugged. “Just calling it like I see it.”

At home, after the drama club’s play, Kenji told his mom about you. He told her about how good you actually were at acting. He planned on leaving mid-performance but you kept him glued to the spot he was watching from. He may or may not have ditched his baseball training that day.

“You seem to know her well,” Kenji’s mom commented to which he retaliated with “To defeat your enemy, you must know your enemy.”

On the other hand, Kenji’s compliment played rent-free in your head. It overshadowed the director’s and the others’ compliments like they didn’t matter.

This situation went on for years in the span of time you spent in high school. Classmates and friends became used to the everyday sarcastic remarks and insults you hurled at each other.

What they didn’t know were the subliminal messages in every interaction.

They didn’t know about how Kenji often finds himself trying to perform exceptionally well whenever he knows you are watching. He’d throw an extra-fast pitch or make a particularly insightful comment in class, hoping to catch your attention.

They didn’t know that his playful teasing was a way to keep the banter alive to be able to engage with you regularly. They didn’t know that in a crowd of people, Kenji would always look for you. He watches your reactions to see if you’re impressed.

They didn’t know that you genuinely attended Kenji’s baseball games to see him do well. You’ll clap and cheer, albeit more reservedly than the die-hard fans, keeping your enthusiasm in check.

They didn’t know how you defend him from others, from those who would speak badly of him regardless of what he did. They didn’t know how you took note of his class attendance and lent him notes from classes he missed due to training.

The two of you did all these while outwardly maintaining the rivalry. Then one day, before you two knew it, graduation season was right around the corner.

One bright and sunny afternoon in the school gym, a large banner hung above reading "Graduation Ball Partner Reveal." Students crowd around a bulletin board, excitedly searching for their assigned partners.

This was one of the school’s antics to add some excitement to the graduation ball by randomly pairing students as dance partners. You heard other girls overtly expressing their wishes to be paired with Kenji.

With a grin, your friend turned to you, “Who do you hope to get, (y/n)?”

"Anyone who can at least manage to keep up on the dance floor,” you shrugged.

"I heard they really mixed things up this year. Could be anyone!" Another friend said.

When the crowd began to disperse, you and your friends made your way to the bulletin board. Scanning the list, your eyes widened as you saw your name next to Kenji’s.

“No way,” you muttered. “This has to be a mistake.” Just as you were processing this revelation, you heard a familiar voice behind you, "Looks like we're stuck with each other, (y/n)."

You turned to see Kenji standing there, a mix of amusement and surprise on his face. “Of all people, it had to be you,” you said crossing your arms.

“It’s not like I rigged the draw,” Kenji chuckled. “Why would I wanna be paired with you?” He asked like he didn’t want it.

As the night of the graduation ball drew nearer, the two of you agreed to be truces for one night.

A week later, there in the same gym, stood you at the edge of the dance floor. That night, the gym was a glittering wonderland, with twinkling fairy lights and elegant decorations that turned the mundane space into a ballroom fit for a fairytale.

“You look amazing, (y/n),” your friend nudged you. “Kenji's going to be blown away."

Scoffing, you replied, “If he even shows up.”

Just as you finished speaking, Kenji appeared, looking dapper in a sharp suit. He spotted you and made his way over, a confident smile on his face.

“Hey, (y/n),” he said. “You look… wow.”

You felt warmth rush to your cheeks as your heart began beating faster. All the earlier pettiness gone the moment you saw him.

"You clean up pretty well yourself, Sato,” you replied, barely a whisper.

Kenji extended his hand, a playful glint in his eyes. "Shall we?" He asked.

Taking his hand, you let him lead you onto the dance floor where you two fell into step, finding a rhythm despite the initial awkwardness.

“So, truce for tonight, right?” Kenji asked. You nodded, smiling, “Only for tonight.”

You danced in silence for a few moments, the reality of the situation sinking in. “I never thought we’d end up here dancing,” he said, breaking the silence.

“Neither did I,” you replied. “But maybe it’s not so bad.”

“You mean you’re actually enjoying my company?” Kenji chucked.

You rolled your eyes playfully, “Don’t get used to it.”

As the dance continued, the tension between you two began to melt away. You two talked about your plans after graduation and for the first time, you saw each other as two people with dreams and aspirations; not as an obstacle in the way.

“I want to go pro. In baseball,” Kenji said. “I've got scouts interested, and I think I have a real shot."

Your eyes widened slightly. "A professional baseball player, huh?” You replied. “I can see that.”

“Thanks,” Kenji grinned. "It's been my dream since I was a kid. What about you? What's next for you after we toss the caps?”

"I want to be an actress,” you answered. “I've been accepted into a drama program, and I'm going to chase that dream as far as it takes me."

That being said, you two will most likely be going to separate schools in college. Or so you thought.

PART TWO

Taglist is open! Comment if u wanna be tagged on future Kenji oneshots

@hismistresss @sweetangle8 @aerivina

@eternallyvenus @puppyminnnie @wattpadsuckssohard @sakura-onesan @reggies-eyeliner @buggs-1 @miffysoo @spencerrxids @stupidbutsmart @marimargirlies @mixvchelle @lannnu @lailuv21 @christiinee @abracarabbit @youngbananamilkshake @flutterfly365 @o-schist

[hatsukeii]

Thinking about Tsukishima, and how having severe photophobia means he has to wear those stupid photochromic lenses everywhere, at all times. He can only keep his eyes open halfway in a lit room, let alone in wake of the sunrise, or the daylight, or the sunset.

Thinking about Tsukishima, and how having severe photophobia and being stuck wearing photochromic lenses means that his body has doomed him to a lifetime of muted sunrises, smothered daylight, and greying sunsets. It's almost as if he has been perpetually asleep since he was born, his waking world masked in darkness at the hands of a smoggy polariser.

Thinking about Tsukishima meeting you for the first time, when the forgotton flashlight of your phone goes unnoticed by everyone in the classroom except him. The photochromic lenses don't react quickly enough when it spins towards his direction, unbeknownst to you, and he cries out in pain, to the shock of everyone in the classroom. He isn't one to speak, and is definitely not one to cry out. He screams at you to turn it off, and you're just about to shit yourself terrified, scrambling for the button to disable it. From that day onwards, you keep the flashlight on your phone disabled at all times.

Thinking about Tsukishima, who thinks you're an idiot after the accident, and vows to stay as far away from you as possible. Until every teacher suddenly wants to put the two of you in pairs. You're competent enough with your skills, at the very least you don't slow him down. He hates to admit it, but for someone who can't notice their phone flashlight, you are pretty fucking good at doing perfectly precise titrations, and really fucking good at catching his mathematical errors when he proudly presents the calculated concentration from the titration trials.

Thinking about Tsukishima, who tells you he hates the sun in physics one time, and dogs on you for preferring day to night. His arguments are valid, photophobia, after all. He says that he indulges in the moon more, that the sun is too bright for his fragile eyes to exist in. You have to remind him how the moon is simply just a reflection of the sun anyways, and he scoffs. You continue to remind him that sunlight encompasses every colour on earth, and that it bounces off waters, still and rough alike, in shimmering diamonds. You marvel at how it diffuses into every shade of red, orange, and blue at sunrise, how it bends into green in a backdrop of gold and pink if you look hard enough at the sun as it retreats beneath the horizon during sunset. A jarring, mocking reminder of all the phenomenons that he will never have the privilege of seeing with his naked eyes.

Thinking about Tsukishima at senior camp, unable to fall asleep on the cold, hard ground of his tent. 3ºC at 4:30am is killer temperature, and he decides that it is time to give up on slumber for the night. He walks out to see you jump awake at your alarm in a camping chair, set up right next to his own outside the tent. He takes a seat beside you, rubbing his eyes before placing his glasses on again. He asks you why you are doing this to yourself, when it is 3ºC in the middle of nowhere at 4:30am. You tell him the sunrise is about to start, and that his spot had the optimal view to it. He is about to return to his tent, when you stop him, and convince him to stay. He has never tried looking at a sunrise, and he expects nothing from it. After all, the photochromic lenses will drown out all the colours you speak of, and mute them into monochromatic grey anyways. Yet as the sun climbs above the treeline and the silhouettes of the mountains afar, his eyes bask in the muted blues and oranges, almost grey, but not quite yet. They may not be as vibrant as you make them out to be, but they are incredible nonetheless.

Thinking about Tsukishima, whose eyes are actually amber beneath his glasses, a commonly mistaken fact only because the sterile white lights of the school forces the polarisers in his lenses to darken. Everyone agrees that his eyes are dark brown, yet when he enters your exclusively lamplit room for the first time one afternoon, your joint science fair project balanced on a soldering machine and a stack of textbooks, his polarisers lighten. And as you watch him solder wires together to form circuits, eyes trained onto the hot iron in his hand, you notice it for the first time. Even in the lack of sunlight thanks to the blackout blinds, and amidst the ambient greens, blues, and purples of your lamps, his eyes are closer to the sun than they ever will be brown.

Thinking about Tsukishima, who after a year of being lab partners, and science fair teammates, and unlikely friends with you, cries when you show him your camera after the school's graduation dinner. You reveal hundreds of photos, taken with just the right aperture and ISO as to not hurt his eyes, all of the sunrises and sunsets you have encountered since learning of his photophobia. For the first time in his life, as he sits cross legged on your bed, he can see the pinks and reds that everyone fawns over, the golds, and blues, and oranges that you forced yourself awake to see at 4:30am on a 3ºC morning. He can see them all while his eyes remain amber, without the polarisers in his glasses firing on, without the smoggy grey filter he has become so accustomed to.

Thinking about Tsukishima, who doesn't even know how to thank you as you roll through the albums, and can only stare as you talk through the stories of each sunrise, and each sunset. You were the lab partner, science fair teammate, unlikely friend. You were all of that, now turned into the striking, yet painless daylight that infiltrates his eyes, and seeps through his body. It courses through his veins and arteries, pumping into his heart erratically as his arms pull you towards him, wrapping around your torso as golden sunlight spills from his amber (not dark brown) eyes, and he finally awakens from his eighteen-year slumber. The two of you sit in silence as you set down the camera, hands travelling up to wrap around his neck and hold the back of his head as he shrinks into your shoulder and weeps.

After all, the moon cannot exist without his sun.

eeee guys can you tell im really into light and physics and am planning to do it in uni anyways I HOPE YOU LIKE IT i have been so bored and burnt out from studying for finals that it has somehow activated the writing part of my brain again WOO i'll be back once in a while when i have the time OK BYE BYE EVERYONE

also @chuuya-brainrot HERE’S YOUR @ POOKIE🫶

[spidernuggets]

Jason Todd x Reader

This one's for my chem compadres @fcku01 @twodimensionalboyfriend @torchbearerkyle 🫡🫡

Your legs were uncomfortably tucked up to your chest as you sat on your chair, close in front of your desk. You've been sitting at your desk, your laptop shining at your face for days for hours on end. And right now, you were trying to memorise all the different titration experiments that were mandatory to study.

You had a can of an energy drink on your left side and a glass of lukewarm coffee on your right. Jason entered your bedroom 10 minutes ago and noticed that you didn't even acknowledge his presence. He shook his head. This just won't do.

He walks up to you, shutting your laptop.

"Oi! I was-"

You were rudely interrupted by him. "Studying. Yes, I know. Like you were for hours today. And yesterday. And the day before," he says with an unamused voice.

You yelped as he hoisted you out of your seat while you immediately wrapped your arms around him.

"You know those don't do shit for you, right?" He says, nodding towards the unhealthy sources of caffeine.

"Jason, put me down!" You exclaimed, but he shook his head.

"Firstly, it's 'Jay' to you, who the fuck even is Jason?" He said nonchalantly as you grumbled, crossing your arms. "And second, you're gonna burn yourself out. None of that shit will stay in your head if you overwork yourself, sweet thing," he muttered, laying you down on the bed, kissing your forhead. "You still have 5 days till your exam. Take a day or two off, hm? Humour me for a bit, babe." He softly said as he laid beside you.

You glanced at the digital clock on your nightstand, a bright, bold green shining 02:35 am. You sighed, nuzzling close to Jason.

"Fine.." You grumbled. "But I'm not taking tomorrow off.. you interrupted a chapter I was on," you say, laying your head on his chest.

He hummed in response, massaging your scalp, bringing you into a deep slumber, a proper sleep that you've been craving for so long.

You didn't really know why you expected a good grade. In the exam room, you skipped 5 questions, losing a good chunk of points. That together with the half assed answered guesses, only knowing the definite answers to some of the questions with doubt gnawing the back of your brain.. why the hell would you expect a miracle to happen and a big 98%, even a 64% written on your exam paper.

You got your exam result back the following week, and when the email revealed you to have received a sloppy 32%, the fatigue and hard work went down the drain, and so did your composure.

You knew for a fact that when you were in that exam room, you weren't going to pass, and there was no hope. So why did those stupid numbers bother you so much?

Maybe it was the fact that you tried so hard to study it, but the questions didn't match any of what you studied, and the questions you were familiar with, you completely forgot the answer.

So you broke down, your notebook, textbook, and hundreds of sheets of printed notes scattered across your bedroom floor as the laptop remained open with your results.

You curled up on the floor was the last thing Jason thought to see when he came home. His panic spiked as he rushed to your side, careful now to slip on any paper on the ground.

He softly called your name out, and when you didn't respond, he gently, ever so gently, wrapped his arms around you, petting your hair, telling you to breathe, to match his pace.

He glanced around the room, seeing the crumpled pieces of paper, all mirroring your crumpled state. The glare of the laptop caught his eye, the 32% taunting you.

"Oh, sweet thing.." he muttered, sitting down properly and pulling you onto his lap, his lips lingering againdt your temple.

"I tried.. I really tried, Jay.." You whined, your hands covering your face as you cried into his embrace.

"I know.. you did.. you did so well, baby.." He whispered softly to you.

"That's not doing well!" You exclaimed, pointing at the stupid grade on the screen. "That's absolute shit! I studied for fuck all!" You curled yourself up once more, burying yourself in your shame.

Jason's heart broke at the sight, holding you impossibly tighter. "Shh.. it's okay. Don't beat yourself up about it. Everyone finds certain things hard. That grade? That doesn't define you or your intelligence. You are so smart, love," he cooed, his fingers brhshing and untangling your hair.

You sniffled, and your breath steadied as you looked around the room. "Needa clean up.." You muttered.

But Jason hushed you once more. "Don't worry about that now, sweet thing. I'll deal with it later, hm?" He comforted, standing up with you in his arms, placing you onto the bed again. We wiped away the remains of your tears, kissing your forhead before leaving a peck on your lips.

"Get some sleep, sweetheart." He whisoered, urdging you to get some rest. And you did. A full 8 hours with Jason cuddled beside you. And quickly, you completely forgot about that 32%.

I dropped down a level during the chemistry exam, and even then, it was an embarrassing attempt. yolo

[downwiththemutantnjnjaturtles]

Donatello's First Love—Splinter's Talk

mostly bayverse, could be 2003 if you squint hard enough. did it a little different with this one compared to the others :0 word count: 1.6k

Spanning his messy corner of the Lair, Donnie's many monitors mounted to the wall were alight with a blue glow. The same few camera feeds rotated between the locations outside of their home and other places, monitoring, and allowing surveillance to take a backseat in his mind while he worked. At his desk, he gently squeezed a pipette into the mouth of a breaker, waiting for the reaction he was looking for to occur. 

"Interesting," he mumbled to himself, "I wonder what happens if I were to supercool the mixture." 

He placed the substance in a tray and prepared another batch, this time, much more concentrated. There wasn't much to do around the house besides experiment with the materials he'd salvaged. That was fine; he enjoyed the process, and filling notebooks—and his walls—to the brim with chemical equations, notes and mathematics that hardly anyone but he could read. 

Careful with his large fingers to not drop the pipette, he sucked a few drops up from the test tube, going in to add to the mixture. He squinted, almost there. And then the startling alarm pinged on the screen next to him, making him jump and squirt the chemical on his work surface. He quickly wiped up and looked over at the computer. "'Motion detected: [y/n]'s apartment complex'," the screen read, switching camera feeds to one of the multiple tiny cameras he had set up. He only put cameras where he thought it mattered; he was paranoid about an ambush, and even more so at her place than theirs, now that she was coming and going from the Lair. The likelihood of their enemies finding out her association with them was about a fifty-seven percent chance, fifty percent too much for Donnie.

He scanned the monitor for signs of anything suspicious, but it turned out to be only a friend dropping by with a key to put a package inside, with [y/n]'s permission. 

"Oh," he muttered, suddenly feeling silly. He made sure the person left her apartment—and locked it back—before quickly switching the feed. That was his one secret nobody had managed to catch him out on yet. Even so, he felt slick and a little guilty for spying. But, justifiably, they needed to know if she ever was in danger! He dismissed the notification and rotated the feeds manually. "Whoops. Sorry, [y/n]...yeah, I'll just switch that back." 

He shuffled around to resume his work titrating. Except Splinter stood curiously behind the desk, eyes trained close on the monitors, and then Donnie. Donnie flinched—Splinter usually didn't come in or near his lab. In fact, none of his family normally bothered him when he had his nose in his work, because none of them understood it. Not even Leo bothered to try to get the details. The details went over their heads. 

"So, Donatello, what is it you are working on?"

"Oh, Master Splinter," Donnie greeted him, glancing back to make sure the monitor was no longer on the door to her apartment. He picked up the pipette and test tube he'd knocked over before, "What is it?"

"Refer back to my last question," Splinter replied. He leaned calmly against his cane and looked all around the cluttered lab. Notes taped, tacked, even glued to walls. A whiteboard full of impossible equations, various pieces of technology in disrepair he'd picked up from trash and things going to recycling. Quite the mess, but Donnie knew where everything was. Splinter cocked his head slightly. "What disorganization," he commented.

"Disorganized to you," Donnie corrected with a smile, "but I can find anything I'm looking for—it's actually 'unorganized', implies that it never was organized. The definition of 'disorganized' suggests that something once was organized but now isn't, but I never once had this place in order," he rambled. 

"Donatello," Splinter interrupted. Once his son got talking, it was hard to stop him. He just had to interject to get a word in. "What is it you are doing? You have been very unfocused lately. This is strange for you."  

"Unfocused" was an understatement. With a mind already running miles per minute, he was getting caught up in his own head. Getting his work station back to a functional state, he set up his tube tray, answering, "Titrating these and writing out their chemical equations. The brain's like a muscle, gotta exercise it and stay sharp," he said. And with all that sharpness, he was only half-suspicious as to why Splinter was suddenly interested in what he was doing. 

Splinter nodded. "Then I must not have seen miss [y/n]'s apartment complex on your screen. Carry on." 

Donnie froze, watching Splinter out of the corner of his hazel eyes. His stomach dropped. So, it was one secret—they weren't going to understand, he was just as protective of their home, too! What if she couldn't call the police, or even them in time if someone broke in? Her apartment wasn't in a good area, Donatello already didn't like that. What if someone grabbed her? He couldn't put his mind at ease without knowing. 

"I—well, this was a recent development, you see," Donatello stuttered, fidgeting with the purple wraps around his hands. He realized then how weird it all looked and panicked. He'd never meant for it to go this far; his cautionary measures just kept escalating more and more with his feelings for her. "I swear, it's just outside of her place! I would never put a camera in her apartment, that would be creepy, and way overstepping," he explained. "I told her I'd always look out for her and that she can count on me."

"Oh, I suppose it's no problem, then, since she gave you such consent," Splinter said, looking away momentarily to scratch his chin. His eyes snapped back over to his anxious son and popped a hairy brow up as he knocked the end of his cane on the floor to grab his attention further. "Is that right, Donatello?" 

He wanted to go into his shell. I'm busted, this is not good. "Don't tell her! So, I, um…I didn't exactly…" The thought trailed off. He didn't need to finish that sentence for both of them to know. 

"Precisely my point. Now that we have made that clear, would you like to tell me what this is really about?" 

"No! I mean, I will, since you're asking, but—agh, I swear, I'm not a creep," he said. "I just wanted to make sure she'd be okay. That's it." 

Splinter crossed behind his desk, slipping an arm around his son's shell. Donnie wanted to pull away. "Come with me. Let's take a walk." 

He led them out of the Lair into the tunnels outside their home. They could loop around easily and end up back at the Lair, and Splinter knew Donnie was going to resist talking if the others could be around to hear. Sometimes, you must play on other people's terms, he thought, listening to the quiet drip echo as they ambled through the sewer. He figured it was time to do a little damage control, although he normally pledged not to interfere with his sons and them making their mistakes. However, he didn't want to see Donatello make a potentially hazardous one to himself. 

"Now, you must understand, my son, you cannot know everything at once," Splinter said, avoiding an accusatory tone. "You have a brilliant mind, but you certainly don't tend to see the obvious." 

"What do you mean, master?" Donnie questioned. The "obvious" being under any other circumstances, his actions would definitely be seen as "creepy". The notion flew right under his radar as something to worry about, as their circumstances were anything but normal. 

"Of course, you are a young man, you want to watch out for the one you love," Splinter pointed out. Donnie cringed, even though he hasn't made much of an attempt to hide that fact. He was excited to explore something new, why should he have hidden thos feelings? He didn't shout them to the world. But it was well-known among their family that he'd beaten his brothers to the punch when it came to her, and no going for it was an unwritten but understood boundary. Still, this wasn't a conversation he was prepared for have tonight; his mind was still back at his lab.

"About everyone but Michelangelo has noticed you've been retreating to your lab more often recently." He chuckled. "And your antics around her are obvious, again. Loosen your grip a little. You are annoying your brothers vying for her attention." 

Donnie felt a rush of embarrassment come over him. Yes, he was showy—expressive, maybe too quick to whisk her away to demonstrate his new inventions, the stuff he'd discovered. Donnie knew he could hyperfixate on and obsess over things; she was on his mind more than not. As for annoying his brother, he wasn't the strongest, but he was the smartest. He was much more eager with his staff and putting his siblings back in their lane when she was around. The electric component on his weapon came in handy for quick corrections, and goofing around. 

Through all of that, he remembered having a moment of clarity when she was inspecting his computer setup one night and the camera almost flickered to hers, to which he scrambled to shut it off. Conveniently, he brushed that aside. 

Donnie lifted his goggles, rubbing his face sheepishly. "I guess you're right," he admitted. 

"The things you do for love," Splinter shook his head. "Be sure you do not push her away by accident. You are fortunate I had the mind to come talk to you about this before you made a mistake and a fool of yourself. Consider it a fair warning," he said as he looked over at his son, who waited quietly for him to continue, "to not overstep." 

"I understand, loud and clear." 

Splinter nodded in agreement, "Good. I trust you will take this advice well. You have a good heart and good intentions, Donatello, do not be clouded by your mind. Your brain is not your only quality."

"Thanks, master Splinter. I'll let up on it," Donnie relented with a small smile. He was still uncomfortable, feeling a bit dumb. He always was so caught up on making predictions, keeping everything running smoothly and safely that he didn't always consider how that worked for other people. Just because it made sense to him, didn't mean it made sense to them. Note that for later, Donatello, he reminded himself. He turned around to head back to the Lair. 

Splinter stopped to take in a little sunlight from the grate above his head, stopping Donnie in his tracks. "Oh, and Donatello," he called. 

"Yeah?" 

Splinter assumed parental status, and Donnie knew that scolding tone all too well. "Tell her about it, or turn that damned camera off." 

~wooOoOOOoooOooOooo partitionnnnnnn~

Side rant: I actually hate it when people portray Donnie (except for 2012 iterations) as shy and unconfident. He is literally the opposite in 2003 and Bayverse. Donatello is not "a little baby uwu" and I'm tired of people making him look so meek 😭

[eashn]

kuroo tetsurō | College AU hcs

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ 𓈈 🀢

summary: a comprehensive list of the CollegeAU!Kuroo headcanons that have been plaguing me for years. 

warnings: allusions to alcohol, some sexual content, swearing, kuroo’s abs.

general

he’s double-majoring in business and chemistry—does hella good in both. 

academic weapon

fairly active in the party scene, but won’t admit he secretly hates it sometimes. prefers the quieter, more refined bustle of the science library or the local cafés. 

didn’t want to commit to the professional level, but still plays club volleyball. never quite finds another team that fits him like Nekoma did. 

on the outside

those dark locks are unruly as ever. 

he’s always been huge but reaaaaally buffed up after high school: broad shoulders and massive, sculpted lats. chiseled abs and the V-line of a fucking god.

he’s worked hard for that body (more on that under Habits), so he shows it off with what he chooses to wear

fitted tees

those sleek athletic compression shirts

prioritizes comfort—his wardrobe is definitely hoodies- and sweatpants-heavy. see images above for a visual 

owns like, nine pairs of gray sweats. the cheeky bastard. 

habits

hits the gym like it’s a religion. his routine is immaculate: strength training couple times a week, a run/jog outside nearly every day. he kickboxes sometimes. plays volleyball of course. 

doesn’t take enough rest days

and forgets to stretch afterward. his shoulders are always tight because of it. 

has a fairly decent sleep schedule

but. he’s a caffeine addict. pulls all-nighters at least once a month, flipping through his textbooks while sipping hot, black coffee.

takes his tea without sugar

and his whiskey neat

doesn’t drink much, though. especially at parties, he likes being able to talk intelligently—to nail first impressions with biting wit and laid-back charm. there’s a certain level of self-possession he cultivates in order to achieve that, though, and alcohol tends to mess with it.

always drives his friends home when they’ve had too much.

academics

he’s good. 

really good. 

aced Organic Chemistry his freshman year while everyone else was shitting their pants

chats with his Business professors during their office hours for fun

his notes are disgusting. loose leaf sheets stuffed into his books, chicken-scratch handwriting littering their margins. 

can’t draw good Lewis Diagrams for shit. his Chemistry TAs give him hell for it.

still, he somehow manages to earn the highest test scores in the class.

competitive. silently simmers when he catches someone earn even a slightly higher grade. he always needs to be the best; he’s greedy for success and recognition. 

total workaholic. grinds himself to the bone.

but also, he really, really loves what he does. the little things thrill him: an Acid-Base titration gone perfectly right, or a really good conversation about Keynesian economic theory. 

he’s such a dork. he’ll never admit to it though

after hours

he’s not a fuckboy. he’s not.

he just…has a certain effect on women. and boy, does he know it.

as mentioned above, he parties fairly frequently—he’s a hot, outgoing twenty-something, so naturally he’s getting invited to a lot. but again, he doesn’t always enjoy the crowds and the noise, and he really doesn’t like getting wasted. 

but if there’s one thing kuroo loves? 

it’s attention. 

though he lingers at the quieter edges of crowds, pretty girls still seek him out, striking up flirty conversation over the din of party music. 

he’ll admit the talk itself is never actually interesting. none of those women are quite smart enough to keep up with him

but all the same, he goes home with them—because they all want him so much. and god, does that stroke some animalistic part of his ego. 

the truth is, kuroo kinda needs to feel wanted. he’s a man that spends all his time competing—beating himself into shape to achieve his various goals. so, when people make him feel like he’s good enough as is, it’s worth a lot. 

his hidden insecurities are part of the reason he won’t approach any truly intelligent women, the ones he notices in his lecture halls and classes. deep down, he’s a little scared of women that can dominate him academically.

but, secretly? he’s also really fucking attracted to that.

desperately wants to meet someone he can actually talk to, a person that’ll share in his ambition and can keep up with his wit.

but for now, settles just for fucking to relieve stress. wakes up more often than not to an empty bed, with no reminder left behind of the girl that was in it the night before. 

A/N - thank you for reading! these were wayyyy too fun to write so this might be the prelude to a bunch more collegeAU!kuroo stuff i do in the future. send me an ask or a message if you’d like to be added to a taglist for that! 

requests for haikyuu headcannons/drabbles are WIDE OPEN!!! send in an idea, and follow @eashn​ for more :)

[petrichor-idyllic]

HI i love ur writings for minho so much oh my god they keep me thriving. i was wondering if you’d be up for doing like a modern highschool au with minho where he keeps trying to ask the reader out, and she keeps saying no because she thinks it’s joke, until she confronts him and he gets all serious and tells her it’s not a joke and then there’s a little bit (a lot) of spice at the end🤭🤭

Ooo okay okay, my first AU story, this is definitely going to be a bit different.

Again, assuming fem!reader because pronouns used in the request.

HIGH SCHOOL NOT-SO-SWEETHEARTS

MASTERLIST | MINHO MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: See above. Fem! Studious! High-school! Reader x Popular! High-school! Minho.

WARNINGS: Inappropriate language, the American education system which I simply do not understand or what is taught in American classrooms, spicy content, terrible teenage flirting, kinda of insecure reader, guilty pleasure high school drama tropes, I do not condone Minho's constant questioning of the reader- no means no, guys. No Glader slang here, folks- they ain't stuck in the Maze now.

You are not a popular person.

Not that you mind. You have your small circle of friends and staying out of the typical teenage drama really is a blessing, especially during your Senior year.

It's not like you're disliked, you're just not someone most people pay attention to, and you like it that way.

You get to focus on your studies, your family and your close friends, which is more than enough to keep you happy.

Well, it would be if you weren't kind of a hopeless romantic. No matter how many times you tell yourself you don't want a boyfriend and that you don't need one, you spend a lot of time fantasing about what it would be like to be in a relationship. Like going on dates, having cute inside jokes, meeting your partners parents, and... other things.

In typical horny teenage fashion, you do spend a lot of time thinking about the more intimate parts of your desired relationship. But, alas, you simply do not have anyone interested in you, nor do you have the time.

(You totally do have the time; you're way ahead of your classes and are passing with flying colours- but you tell yourself that.)

Except that's actually not quite right.

"Dude, I am totally fucking up this titration, are you gonna help me or not?" Gally mumbles from behind the desk of the chemistry lab. How Gally and Minho got into AP chemistry is beyond me, and the teacher, and the whole entire class.

Probably to do with them cheating on their mid-terms. But that's irrelevant.

"Minho, dude," he shoves his friend, who has been casually leaning on the desk staring off into space, as per usual.

Well, not into space exactly.

"What? Huh? Oh, right, yeah." He clears his throat. "Acid in the... tube thing and we put that in the base and bang, shit changes colour- it ain't that hard."

"It's an acid-base titration."

"So?"

"So, we're seeing how much base it takes to neutralise the acid- the acid goes in the beaker!"

"What's the damn difference?"

Gally pauses.

He does not know.

"Whatever, the titrate is already in the shitty tube and now we gotta drip feed it in."

"Sounds like you know what you're doin', then." Gally frowns at the boy.

Maybe it wasn't a smart idea for them to both cheat when the only thing they have in common is being friends with Siggy (aka Frypan, the groups best, and only, cook.)

"Yanno, maybe if you didn't spend half your time staring at your nerd crush, then we might actually get past this with a C."

Minho glares at his friend. His crush on you is very much a teasing point in his friend group.

It started when he was struggling with an equation in Sophmore year. He'd just sprained his ankle after a training session with the Track-and-Sprint team and was particularly stressed about it. So, anything remotely out of his academic field was bound to make his day worse.

It's not like Minho is dumb. He's actually incredibly intelligent. He has a great memory and can understand people with little to no effort- anything scientific really isn't his thing though.

So, when you felt bad for him, watching him anxiously tap his good foot and spin his pen in his hand, you slipped him your answer sheet. He was stunned, especially since you'd never spoken before. But, when you smiled at him, giving him a reassuring nod, he never really got over it.

"Shut up, man."

"You know, actually, that's not a bad idea."

"What?"

"Yo, (Y/N)!" You perk your head up, flashing a concerned look at Harriet, your lab partner, as Gally shouts you. "Could you help us out? You're like smart, right?"

"Gally! Dude-" Minho whisper-yells at the boy, ducking into himself when you respond.

"Uh, sure," you walk away from your perfect set up to the chaos of the boys'. "What's up?"

You stand with your hands behind your back, looking between them. "Minho," he nudges his friend, "tell the girl what's wrong."

Minho blinks. "Well, uh, I don't know- you're the one who said there's a problem."

Gally scoffs. "The fucking thing won't change colour- ain't it meant to go pink?"

You glance between them, suddenly feeling very small.

You're not popular, which means guys like these have often teased you or do things like this because they think it's funny. It's gotten better over time with age, but you still feel like the scared little freshman that would get teased by older boys.

"Well, did you put the phenolphthalein in the beaker?"

They both blankly look at you. So, you pick up the small, dark bottle. Shaking it at them, you open the bottle, letting the liquid fall from the dripper and into the clear acid, which immediately turns a bright fusia.

You pull your lips into a thin line as they both stare at the beaker, no thoughts behind the eyes.

"Ah." Gally says after a couple of seconds.

"Yeah." You respond.

"Uh, thanks," Minho awkwardly stands up properly from his leaning position over the lab table.

"No problem."

You turn to walk away, but as Gally makes shifty eyes at his friend, Minho finally takes the hint. He's been crushing on you forever, he might aswell do something about it.

"Uh, wait, hold on," you turn to face him as he walks around the desk. "I gotta ask you somethin'."

"I'm sure your titration's fine, just don't pour it too quick or the results will be wrong."

"No, uh, not that." Gally snorts, not at you but at Minho's awkwardness, but it still makes you feel very insecure. "I was wondering if you wanted to hang out maybe, sometime?"

"Hang out?"

"Yeah," Gally laughs, covering his mouth and turning away, "Gally, shut up, bro." Minho is quick to snap at him. "Like... a date, maybe?"

You scoff, anger swelling inside of you. This isn't the first times it's happened, but probably the worst because you actually like Minho.

Sure, he hangs out with douchebags like Gally, but you thought he was cool. Say, you may even have a slight crush on him. He's handsome, funny, and, for the most part, kind.

Well, you thought he was at least.

"Real funny, asshole."

You walk away, returning to a very confused Harriet.

Minho stands in stunned silence. He's never been rejected before- nevermind like that.

Gally bursts out laughing.

"What just happened?" Minho asks no one in particular, visible confusion washing over him.

"You just got fuckin' rejected, bro! Ha!"

"No, that was weird." He's never heard of anyone being rejected like that before.

"Well, try again, then, pretty boy- it's nice to see someone knock your ego down a peg." Minho gives a sarcastic grin to Gally before shoving him. "You gonna help me with this damn titration, now, or what?"

"Dude, what was that about?" Harriet whispers as you immediately go back to your third reading.

"Minho just asked me out." You state, matter-of-factly.

"What?" She says a bit too loud, making multiple heads look at her. "What?" She repeats, quieter.

"It was a joke- Gally was laughing the whole time. I hate guys like that."

"Are you sure?" You glare at her. "I'm just sayin', I didn't think Minho was that typa guy, that's all."

"Yeah, neither did I."

"Pricks."

You scoff before she smiles at you.

You finish up the lab session, and you're quick to leave, meeting Sonya and Aris at the door as you all share history together.

"Hey, (Y/N)!" You keep walking, ignoring Minho's voice from behind you. "Yo! Hey! Wait!"

"What?" You snap, turning around suddenly to face him, making him jump as Sonya and Aris exchange glances.

"Did I, uh, did I do something? 'Cause back there you-"

"You think you're funny, huh?" Harriet butts in, defending you. "That's a sick joke, yanno; give it up now before you become even more of a dick. C'mon." She grabs your wrist, pulling you away from him, your other friends left even more confused.

Later, in the cafeteria, Minho sits with his friends, silently picking at his food.

"Okay," Newt finally breaks the tension, "what's going on? Why are you sulking?"

"He got rejected by his long-term crush," Gally sneers, earning a glare from Minho.

"Holy shit, (Y/N)?" Teresa leans forward in her seat. "You actually asked her?"

"Yeah, and he got completely rejected."

"What? Why?" Thomas pipes up.

Minho shrugs. "She called me an asshole and walked away. Tried to talk to her after, and Harriet dragged her away."

"What?" At least three people ask.

"Yeah, so, that's three years of my romantic life wasted."

"Nah, man, you gotta ask again," Frypan says between mouthfuls of his homemade pasta, which is worlds better than the cafeteria food.

"What?"

"Keep askin', you'll either get an explanation or she'll say yes."

"I don't know if I agree with that," Teresa mumbles.

"Yeah, me neither," Newt mutters, and Frypan shushes them.

"Trust me, bro, chicks dig a guy that doesn't give up- ain't that right, Gally?"

"Oh, yeah," Gally agrees, sarcasm dripping in his voice. "That'll work."

And, for some God forsaken reason, Minho actually listens to this.

So, every day, for the next two weeks, Minho asks you out.

You think it's some kind of unruly on-going inside joke, and Harriet is practically frothing at the mouth, ready to rip Minho to shreads the first chance she gets. Minho, at the point, would just like a reason.

Not that he's owed one. But, Teresa and Newt's voices of reason keep getting drowned out by the other dumb boys, so he's still going.

That is until you have literally the worst day ever.

First, your Mom's car broke down, and she normally drops you off at school on her commute to work, so you arrived at your first period late. It also means she can't pick you up, it's not like you can't drive, but you don't have your own car, and now she doesn't have a car either.

And now it's throwing it down.

You then dropped a whole beaker of hydrochloric acid down your leg in chemistry. Which meant you had to borrow Sonya's PE shorts because you can't wear dangerous chemicals all day.

Then you left school- forgot you were tutoring Winston for extra credit, and had to run back to school, soaked, to spend another hour there.

Unbeknownst to you, Minho has extracurricular activities being captain of the Track team- which is taking place inside the hall because of the weather.

So, when you're walking through the parking lot, dressed like a drowned-rat and Minho pulls up beside you, you've just about had enough.

"(Y/N)?"

"Piss off, Minho! I won't tell you again!"

He slowly drives alongside you from his beat-up, old range rover, the window rolled down but he still has to shout.

"Okay! Okay! Dude, you're drenched, wearing shorts, okay? I'll give you a lift home-"

"No way- I'll walk."

"You're gonna get sick, man- I'll shut up and just take you home, alright? I'm not letting you walk in this- I'll feel like a dick."

"You don't already feel like a dick?"

He groans, tapping on the steering wheel. "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable- I didn't mean to. But the weather's shit, and you can't play top-student if you're off 'cause you're ill."

You pause. He makes a good point. You turn to look at him, sighing. He puts the hand break on when you start to walk around the side of his car, dumping your bag at your feet as you open the door.

"What's your-"

"I'll give you directions."

"Okay..."

The ride is mainly in silent, with some old-school songs playing on the radio. Minho taps the steering wheel to the beat of "Eye of the Tiger" to try and distract himself from the awkwardness.

Your phone buzzes; it's Harriet calling you.

"Shit," you mumble.

"You good?" Minho asks you.

"Yeah, Harriet's calling me- we're meant to be figuring out our history project tonight but I forget to tell her I was tutoring."

You swipe across, pressing the phone to your ear. "Hey, man."

"Dude, you were meant to call me half an hour ago- we gotta brainstorm."

"Yeah, yeah, I know, I'm just on my way home, now."

"Did your Mom sort her car then? Doesn't sound like you're walking through a storm."

"No, I, uh..." You trail off. "I got offered a lift, I'm fine, I'll be home in like five minutes."

"A lift? Off who? Sonya has work so she couldn't of?" You hesitate. "Dude?"

"Uh, Minho, he caught me in the rain and offered to take me home."

"What?"

"Yeah, I know-"

"You're fucking with me, right?"

"Look, it's fine, I'll call you when I get home."

"You better." You hang up the phone, taking a deep breath.

"Sounds like she doesn't like me," Minho attempts to say.

"Yeah, I wonder why."

"Do you have a problem with me, or some shit? 'Cause I thought we were cool and then you just started acting like I was a dick."

"Because you are a dick!"

"What?" He looks at you for a second before returning his eyes to the road.

"Doesn't matter; pull over, it's my house on the left."

He does as he's told. There's no car in the drive so your Mom must've managed to get someone to take care of it- which means you've got an empty house.

Thank God because you're going to need to de-stress after the day you've had.

You immediately get out of the car, slamming the door behind you. But Minho is quick to follow you.

"Hey!" He shouts as you march up your front door steps. "Hey!" He grabs you wrist and you turn around, pushing him.

"What's your problem?" You shout. "I don't get why you think this is so fucking funny! Like, sure, have your one dumb joke where you ask out the freak to make your friend laugh! But why keep going! What's the point? You don't have your little audience now, do you? What? You gonna call them after and tell them how much fun you had pissing me off on our little drive? Or is it the fact I got in your car to begin with? Is that the joke, hm?"

Minho stands there, in the rain, his brows furrowing slightly as he takes in what you've said. It's an expression you've never seen on him before, but you don't plan on sticking around to find out what it means.

You turn, fumbling with your keys to unlock your door, managing to push it open.

"Wait, what?" He stops you in the door, and for some reason, you turn around.

"What?"

"You thought it was a joke?" His voice sounds sincere, almost sad.

"You and Gally were laughing at me-"

"No, Gally was laughing at me," he sighs, dropping his head. "He was laughing at me."

"What? Why would he-?"

"Because I've had a crush on you since I was fifteen. Ever since you gave me those damn notes, a-and I guess I never got over it. I just finally got the courage to say something and Gally thought it was funny- for some reason, I don't know." He takes a deep breath. "But I- shit," he throws his head back, letting the water wash over his face. "I was never joking."

You don't know what to say. It's like your body relaxes, your shoulders dropping as you shuffle forwards.

"I get it, if you don't like me- and I'll leave you alone now. Teresa gave me some lecture on how to treat girls," he lets out a soft chuckle, "Newt sounded like he was gonna rip my head off. But I was never joking, (Y/N)- I really fuckin' like you."

"I don't get it," you mumble. "Why would a guy like you like me?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're... popular. Everyone loves you- you're hot and athletic and you could get anyone you want. I don't get it."

He smirks, his shirt is starting to stick to him thanks to the rain and his hair is starting to flatten. "You think I'm hot?" You glare at him. "Right, yeah, not the point, sorry."

He takes in a deep breath. "How could I not like you? You're pretty, and funny, and passionate- and you try so hard and you help people whenever you can. You're... incredible."

"You barely know me."

He scoffs. "Maybe. But I think I've paid more attention to you than I have any of my classes. I know you're good at science, but you hate physics, even though you're good at it. But I know English is your favourite subject. I know that you became friends with Sonya and Aris because Harriet made you after you sat next to her in history. I know the only class you've ever skipped is PE, but I don't know why 'cause you'd actually be pretty decent on the girls' basketball team. And I know you're tutoring Winston after school because he doesn't shut up about it half the time."

He pauses. "I know about you- but I want to know you."

You're completely stunned. The fact that he's paid so much attention to you, and knows all of this makes your stomach flip and your heart rate speed up.

When you don't respond, Minho sighs, rubbing his forehead with his hand. "Sorry," he mumbles, "this is dumb; I'll leave you alone."

He steps away, turning around when you step forward. "Minho," you grab his wrist, making him turn around to face you fully. "I, uh, I have a crush on you, too."

He blinks. "What?"

"I thought you were cool, and I think I was only so upset that I thought it was a joke... because I actually like you, too?" It comes out as more of a question as you avoid his gaze. But when he doesn't say anything, you look at him.

He's smiling. It's a genuine and earnest expression. "Yeah, you actully-?"

"Just shut up and kiss me," you don't know where the surge of confidence came from. Maybe you can't take this sappy talk anymore, or that Minho looks too good being soaked wet through.

Stepping closer, he brings his hand to your cheek, brushing his thumb across your lips as your faces are inches apart. Finally, he leans in, closer the gap and kissing you.

Your hopeless romantic heart can't take it. Kissing the popular hot guy in the rain after what was basically a love confession? It's like something straight out of a movie.

He breaks the kiss for a second, eyes fluttering down at you before his kisses you again. This time, it's hungrier, pushing you back as you grab his shirt. Pulling him back and into your house, he slams the door behind him as you drop your bag on the floor with a heavy thump.

Almost immediately, he grabs you again, pushing you back into the wall of your hallway. You hum into his mouth, his hands coming to your waist, yanking your body closer to his. You're both damp and in uncomfortable clothes, but neither if you could care less as you drip on the floor.

Feeling more bold, you pull on his bottom lip with your teeth, making him grunt slightly before your tongues brush against one another.

Make out session is quick to become more heated as you graze your fingers over his abs through his shirt, which is sticking to him like glue. He senses your want for more, moving one of his hands to lift his shirt (struggling because wet clothes suck) before firmly pressing your hand to his mid-drift.

He breaks the kiss, his eyes flickering as you gently touch his bare skin, your eyes on his chiselled form. He sucks in a deep breath, his chest rising and falling.

It's almost like a drug. You're barely doing anything but he's never felt like this before. It's not like Minho is inexperienced due to a few hook-ups at parties. But, this is new.

He's literally getting drunk off of your touch. And you can tell.

Having Minho reduced to putty in your hands sends a flush of heat to your core. Dangerously lowering your hand, you brush against the V line poking out of his tightening trousers.

He mumbles your name, a rasp to his voice, almost like he's in some kind of pain as he speaks into your mouth. He dips towards you, but instead of kissing you, his lips come to your neck.

You exhale, the air shaking at it leaves your lungs. He moves lower, your free hand coming to back of his neck and playing with his wet hair.

When he reaches your collarbone, your phone starts buzzing again.

Harriet, again.

He pulls away, raising an eyebrow at you as you pull your phone out of the baggy pocket of the gym shorts. "Sorry," you mumble, "I gotta..."

He nods. "Yeah, go ahead."

You inwardly cringe as you pick up the phone.

"Bro, are you alive?" She says the second the line connects.

"Yeah, I'm alive, Harry- I'm home now."

"Great, well I was thinking we can do out project of the Battle of the Somme, or maybe-"

"Wait, I'm, uh, I'm a bit busy- can I call you back?" You definitely have to have that interesting conversation with her, but hopefully you don't have to do it in front of Minho.

"What? Why? Why do you sound like you've ran a marathon? What's going on with you?"

"Look, I'm fine. I'll call you back."

"Wha-" you hang up, taking a deep breath as you lean back against the wall.

Minho chuckles. "We should, uh, probably take things a bit slower."

"Yeah," you clear your throat, "you're probably right."

"So, about that date- you down?"

You smile, nodding. "Yeah, that sounds great."

"Cool. I should probably get your number, huh?"

"Yeah, that would be smart."

You exchange numbers, making some small and slightly awkward small talk when the door opens.

Your Mom, who looks like she's just had the worst day, freezes. Her eyes flickering between you and Minho.

None of you say anything for a good thirty seconds as your mother takes in the scene of her daughter and this random boy dripping in her hallway, both clearly flustered whilst Minho's shirt is still slightly raised.

And where are your pants?

"Hi, Mrs (L/N)," Minho gives an awkward wave to her.

"I can explain." You say.

"I don't want to know," she brushes past you, going further into the house, leaving you be.

Both you and Minho exchange looks before bursting out laughing.

Maybe Minho wasn't joking, but you have a feeling that this specific moment is definitely going to be in the future.

This was actually very fun to write, and I actually got to use my actual science qualifications to use for a change. It's nice to change up things now and then.

I hope you guys enjoyed :))

[melukonova]

my college experience thus far!

a/n: have fun experiencing college through my eyes, major will not be specified! will definitely be a stem major though in certain scenarios

characters: haikyuu and genshin x gn! reader ; college au with iwaizumi, cyno, kuroo, tooru

warnings: mentions of rejection, these will vary in size because some of the men are not very present in my life anymore nor had a huge interaction (very short hcs because i do not interact enough with others and it shows… kidding. sorta LMAO.)

tooru - the high school best friend

it wasn’t like you guys planned to kiss while watching anime on a saturday night during hanging out

you weren’t a rebound either for his last girlfriend who decided that he prioritized volleyball over him

he did his best to make sure that your friendship was his main priority which is why he always had spoiled you in silly ways, even his parents and family members took such a liking to you

you were rather enjoyable and you pushed tooru to focus on his grades but you never forced him into anything that he was not ready for

which leads back to this moment where you’re outside of your car, not expecting the night to go as it did

you guys ended up having a brief talk before a call from your parents about your curfew

tooru never ended up going to college but he supported your decision to go and let you study with him while he worked on his career for volleyball

“are you sure that you’re ready for a relationship again, tooru?”

and with a quick tilt of his head and a slight smirk as he whispered, “have i ever steered you wrong, y/n?” he smiled as he closed the distance between your lips again before opening your car door, “see you tomorrow.”

iwaizumi - your first college best friend

you two had gotten paired up with two other individuals in your group, it was all your first class together in college. everything is new and different, jetlag included for some (iwaizumi)

he ended up falling asleep and missing an 8 am class, big mistake for this huge group project that you all had made. luckily, you got his instagram account.

it was surprisingly empty on his account so you could not figure out much about him but he had responded later on in the evening to your surprise which blossomed a very close bond between the two of you…

though only just being friends could not only be enough for you, he was everything that you could ever imagine and more as a partner.

after thinking on it enough, one day you decided to tell him how you feel to see if it had been reciprocated.

sure enough, iwaizumi needed time... and you were okay with that. you knew giving him time would be what was best for you both. luckily your friendship had survived it.

after enough time, he finally approached you in person and asked if you would like to hang out and walk around campus.

and eventually, he asked you out to dinner to your favorite restaurant on campus… the food court where you both made it official.

kuroo- we have chemistry together

this guy…

you met him in your chemistry lab together, he made a small comment in your direction about titrations since you could not get the water to be a light pink color. he still wore this devilish smirk on his face as he looked in your direction.

clearly he was messing with you, though bokuto also had been in for it as well… that poor guy had to deal with kuroo constantly.

he managed to make you laugh though on several occasions. you both eventually ended up studying together because of this, it was never intentional how you fell for him.

boy was it a slow play of his, several semesters had passed and you two had several occasions where he eventually started to play a game to see when you would text back since you had been so busy with work yourself.

eventually, you both started to text more and more…

random conversations would come up like “is it gay if you kiss the homies goodnight when they wear socks but you don’t?”

you managed to morph yourself into his friend group, getting all their approval. somehow, they planned to get you two together.

your new friends and you had managed to get a table at a restaurant for ramen. it was rather delicious and the noodles tasted fresh before he jokingly asked you what is the most cliche date ever. though, what you didn’t realize — was he was actually asking you out…

“let’s go to the aquarium, i can tell you the chemistry of how things work there. so how about it?”

dumbfounded. all you could say was sure before waiting for a few other hangouts before your eventual ‘date’. you needed confirmation so you didn’t accidentally find yourself falling for a man who didn’t love you back.

“kuroo… are you asking me out on an actual date?”

“do you want it to be?” there was no hesitation in his words as he picked out another awful outfit for your guys’ date. it would be rather ridiculous to be this dressed up for an aquarium.

and that’s how you managed to get your first kiss stolen.

cyno - a pokemon nerd

you two had met in your recent physics class, you both had failed miserably on your first exam.

“did you get higher than a 0.3?”

“no…”

did anybody??? no. the average was a 0.5 out of 2, a solid 25%! gross.

this exam led you two to talk more, you eventually found out how big of a closeted nerd he was. he tried his best to sound cool in front of you but he forgot about all of that when you mentioned the words ‘pokemon tcg’.

you opened up a can of worms that you hadn’t even realized existed at all… not that you weren’t a fan!

trading card games were not your forte though… you tried your best to get an understanding of how to play, he rated your deck and everything — trying to help you get a sense of the game.

eventually, you guys spent every day after the lecture together. you guys got lunch and you both were talking while playing.

though, cyno couldn’t take it anymore. he needed to call you, he needed to talk. he just needed somebody to hear him out

or so you thought…

he just needed you to hear him out.

“y/n, i can’t shake this feeling that you’re meant to be my player two. there’s something here and i want to pursue it with you, if you’ll let us.”

screaming, literally screaming internally. was he that sleepy? but you heard correctly.

“y/n? did i lose you? was that too forward?” he wanted to make a pun to stop the awkward tension until he heard you speak up.

“how could i cy-no when i feel the same?” you guys were both laughing before you got in your car and started driving to him as you guys called. a simple ice cream date, he said… yet all of these puns about ice cream were NOT on the agenda from what you thought it would be…

“my favorite day of the week is sunday. do you get it? it’s because-”

“you can have sundaes? it always makes me melt to be with you.” he was caught off guard.

perhaps it was an (n)ice day for you both…

melukonova, 2023. 𓂃 ☄︎

[ectogeo-art]

Got real inspired by a prompt from my friends, and wrote a fic about The Wire in which Garak dies before Julian can get back to the station, and Julian has to bring him back to life, mad scientist style! <3 Definitely some horror vibes, but it's got a happy ending, don't worry! <3

Excerpt (TW: temporary character death, body horror, medical experimentation):

Even though he knew what he would find when he pulled back the privacy curtain that had been set up, Garak’s lifeless body was still a shock to see. He looked unsettlingly pale, and the complete stillness of his chest hurt Julian much more than he was expecting it to. Until he saw him like this, he hadn’t quite believed he was dead. He’d lost patients before and it was always painful, but Garak wasn’t just any patient or even just any friend. Garak was… Well, it didn’t matter what else he might be, not unless this worked.  He’d whipped up this treatment in a frenzy, not stopping to care about the way that the chroniton particles he’d spilled kept causing a patch of metal on the workbench to repeatedly shine like new and then rust quickly and then cycle through those processes again, or the way that the cocktail of Cardassian enzymes and adrenaline made the biomimetic gel glow a frightening sort of radioactive green. As soon as it was prepared, he’d loaded it into a classical syringe (the hypo wouldn’t work with this mixture) and rushed to Garak. He’d deal with the clean-up from his experiments later. But now he stood poised to inject his friend with something that might bring him back to life, but more likely could just mangle and disfigure his corpse. Cardassians culturally didn’t even like outsiders to see their dead, let alone inject them with hastily brewed unstable chemicals that may or may not dissolve a body from the inside out if Julian had made even the slightest error in his calculations or titrations or scientific assumptions.

[ebonyheartnet]

Allergist: Listen, when you start using the nebulizer, only take half a vial and see how you feel. You can always titrate up, but albuterol hits different like this.

Me: Sure thing, doc.

-two weeks later-

Me: *listens to their doctor*

Me: This albuterol ain’t shit. I can definitely handle the rest.

-10 minutes after taking the other half-

Me, vibrating through walls like my name is Barry Allen: Mistakes Were Made

Edit: I’m so glad that everyone’s finding this hilarious, as intended, but I feel the need to clarify on the main a few ridiculous things said in reblogs. My secret ID isn’t actually Flash, it’s Spider-Man, because that was my body yelling, “YOU JUST HAD SOMETHING YOU’RE ALLERGIC TO!”

Because, ya know, increasing the anxiety of someone 3 psychs have called, “[their] most anxious patient,” is something I’m gonna notice as weird. 🙄

Was I reacting to the new medication like a sensible person? Nope.

I am allergic to new plastic fumes, and I forgot to let the damn nebulizer breathe outside the box for a few weeks.

Such is the life of MCAS.

[cherisheye]

☆ wed, april 10th, 2024

☆ we continued talking about limits in calculus, but now with more examples. i actually followed along pretty well! i think i only need to take another look at the formal limit definition, i didn't quite catch it ☆ after class my partner and i met up to finish our lab reports, and when we were done with those, i got started on my linear algebra exercise list - unfortunately i couldn't get past the second exercise (⁠╥⁠﹏⁠╥⁠) but i asked a friend about it and he will teach it to me tomorrow ☆ we went to the lab today! we had to figure out the amount of Mg(OH)2 suspended in milk of magnesia by doing a retro-titration - basically reacting the magnesium hydroxide with hydrochloric acid, the titrating the excess HCl with NaOH. it was fun! despite how tiring titrations can be sometimes ☆ 20/33 exercises done in my general chemistry i exercise list - i struggled a bit today with the exercises, but the professor will solve them in class so i can get my questions sorted out then

[toastsnaffler]

changed my gp practice to one local to me last month which is fine but just found out the adhd service I'm titrating meds with only covers gp practices in england and I'm registered with a gp in wales now... which means I'm now a "private" patient so I have to pay for the rest of my titration out of pocket. are u fucking kidding me

[silvesi]

BLAH *throws a sylvari at you*

Hi, this is Lik. Yes, pronounced like lick. It stuck. Nope, I have not finished the design! But, alas:

My friend here got them She/it pronouns and is within Feds group of mordrem buddies after the end of HoT. "Scholar" who only existed for a single month before mordremoth awoke, therefore is a lanky stick with absolutely NO cool mordrem beastie stuff, only issues Inside Her Brain.

.

Acts like a scholar whilst having none of the basic scientific/whatever understanding of one, so just gathers so much data. This gal has so many random lists and catalogues bc it shuts up the brain issues a tiny bit. Feds ADORES IT and regularly gives her SO MUCH MONEY because my guy LOVES the science but HATES the data processing. Has definitely paid her to do titrations, because he'd rather die.

Her usefulness should not be underestimated, but likely often is by people who do not know it.

.

An uncanny understanding of the other mordrem and so, so good with them, so nicey, would be a good therapist for them as due to it's lack of socialisation with 'normal' sylvari she instead learnt new and exciting shrimp emotions and socialisation.

However if u put her with anyone that isnt mordrem I think she just *standing man emoji*

.

I ALSO think she's gonna end up as some sort of an apprentice to Fedsy, entirely by mistake. It just HAPPENED and now he's kinda adopted her?? congrats on that, man.

[facesofone]

I want to start this off by saying this was my experience with the particular titration that I was on. This may work for other people (I assume it would since this is pretty standard bipolar treatment) but for me personally, it was a nightmare. My anti-mania kept my mood from going too high, the anti-depressant kept it from going too low, and the mood stabilizers kept it from happening too fast. 

During this time I was heavily numbed to the outside world. I couldn't feel on the best of days, and when one of my friends died I couldn't mourn him properly because I simply could not produce tears. Since then I have changed my meds to be less aggressive. I still get periods of mania and depression, though they are easier to handle (mood stabilizers) since they don't happen as rapidly. 

I would much rather feel sadness occasionally, than to not feel at all.

---

Also, a big thank you to everyone who participated in the Plural Positivity World Conference! If you weren't able to make it, you can find all the presentations on their youtube page at youtube.com/pluralevents including our own about starting your own plural based webcomic! It was a blast and I'm definitely looking forward to the next year's conference.

[ID]

Panel 1: A doctor hands Jak (who is holding a glass of water) some pills and says "Okay here's your anti-depressant. It'll keep you from getting too sad." [Author's note: I meant to change this to 'depressed' but forgot to until after it was already produced.]

Panel 2: The doctor hands him some more pills and says "And here's the anti-mania. It'll keep you from getting too manic."

Panel 3: Jak receives the last set of pills and swallows them with his water. The doctor said "And here's your mood. stabilizers." she then goes on to say "Well? How do you feel?"

Panel 4: Jak responds "I don't feel anything." The doctor says "That's great!" to which Jak replies "No, I mean, I can't feel anything...Not joy, not sadness or fear or shame...nothing." There is a pause between them and the doctor softly says "Well...at least you're not sad anymore."

[END ID]