#burette definition

[illarian-rambling]

Thanks for the tag @whoevenknowswhatimwriting!

OC Quotes

My prompt is: opinions on inanimate objects having names

Your prompt is: what do you do when your friend is sick?

I'll do the MG gang for this one ;)

.

Astra: "Don't you be gettin' on my ass about namin' things. Dainin the rune pen, Francois the coffee maker, Jules the burette, Kathlin the test tube rack, and I don't appreciate it."

Mashal: "It's name might just be the Extraordinaire, but I talk to Astra's vardo from time to time. It feels... not alive, really, but like it has a personality. I'd definitely name my sword too if I could hang onto one for longer than a few weeks."

Ivander: "People name their possessions? What a curious concept. I try not to get that attached to any object, but if a person wants to name their toaster Carl, then that's their prerogative."

Elsind: "When I was little, I had a blanket I called Starry. It had, well, stars on it, and I slept with it every night. Since then, I haven't really had any possessions important enough to name."

Avymere: "Many inanimate objects have a lineage as long as any noble house. My rapier is named Moon's Eye, and it was forged over two thousand years ago. My family's throne is called Stesskalón - Songseat in old Elvish - and has been in this palace since the we Spearsongs came to rule Salis fifteen hundred years ago. If an object has been around long enough, it earns a name."

.

I'll tag @kaylinalexanderbooks @verba-writing @elizaellwrites @bloodmoonloveletter and anyone else who wants to give this a try :)

[shelf-care]

Welcome to my new series,

"Steel Crane, Silver Griffin"

This is a Witcher fanfiction that I’ve had in my head for a long time, all the characters in this story are original characters, I have only used the Witcher continent and the Witchers as a setting. Everything else is mine which I’m proud of.

There is no Geralt.

Just so everyone knows and I don’t disappoint you. This is set 1000 years before the witcher books, a 1000 years after the conjunction of the spheres.

I hope yall like it!.

______________________________________________________________

Mist clouded my view of the mountains from my room. The trees swayed from side to side as if waving to me and saying good morning. The sky said otherwise, angry and rumbling and threatening to let out a downpour of rain that would surely make the sea surly by the afternoon. In my next of blankets I sighed. I hadn’t been back to Kear Seren in a few months, the longest I had been away since I had first arrived. I stretched to feel the cold wood of my bed frame touching the balls of my feet. I wanted nothing more than to stay in here comfortable and warm as the sea breeze turned my skin to goose bumps. The embers in my fireplace had gone out hours ago, smoke and ash the only thing remaining. I turned, my body facing the window fully, and the cliffs below my window broke the waves of the ocean in a rhythmic pace. 

A breath escaped my lips once again as I closed my eyes. I was home, and I did not intend on leaving again so quickly. That is if it had been my choice.  My horns had wrapped themselves up into my sheets, putting a hole into the new set I had just been given. I ground thinking about what the headmaster would say this time. “Better not to say anything.” The thought escaped my lips. Stretching again as I sat up, I moved the bedspread aside, my feet now hitting the stone which had captured all the cold of the night. Spying my armor from across the room I couldn’t help but give a slight smile. The twin swords I had earned, the armor I had made myself over two years of work, and finally, my books which I had been memorizing since I could talk. I looped a belt over bandolier, Tunic over chainmail and finally boots slipped over my feet which had been covered in woolen socks. 

-

Coming to the end of the winding staircase I could hear my fellow witchers, clambering for breakfast while some had come to stay for merely a night, such was the life we had all been called to. I pinned my hair back behind my horns, hoping it would stay up during breakfast. “Marabella!” A hand waved to me as I stepped forward avoiding the many other warriors in the castle. “Took you long enough. What were you doing anyway?” Burett asked. His faded hair streaked with white and black made him appear older than I, but we were the same age of course. His face was stubbled aside from the mustache he had chosen to grow over the summer season, he laughed,  taking in his morning ale. “I dreamed I was walking in the woods, and low and behold the Gods had blessed me with a man. We were making sweet love before I was rudely woken up.” I gripped his tankard of ale, taking it from his loose hold and drank the remaining drops before he could. His jaw hung low before he laughed. “Marabella, the sweet, Marabella the soft. Marabella, the world would be too cruel to you.” He laughed as I sat down, tankard slammed down in jest. “It definitely was to you when you grew that horrid mustache.” I winked and gave a full hearted laugh, everyone else at the table joined in the jests as well and breakfast went over as well as one could in the keep. 

-

The master of our order; Master Aber of the gray hills came to the front of the hall, calling our attention just with the way he walked. His built body seemed that of a twenty year old youth, but his wrinkles and grey hair had said otherwise. He stepped on the center platform that was used for announcements, our new queries, the path was never too long abandoned. “War has broken out among the many lords of Zerrikania,” His words lazy and tinged with age, his blue eyes still very much alive with zeal. He held up a contract. “The royal family have asked Witchers of all factions to accompany them to a masquerade, there, they will choose a witcher to serve as their personal bodygaurds till the royals death, or when this war has subsided. It is a very honerable proposal, however I know how all if not most of you are, stubborn, flighty, and worst of all compulsive.” He was silent as the room rumbled with people talking amongst themselves. Burret waved off the idea. “Who would want to be some queen's lapdog? The path is what matters. The money is shit, however the freedom? You can’t wish to put a price on that.” He smiled slickly, taking a long draw from his pipe. “Some of us like living in luxury dear Burret.” I leaned over whispering in his ear. I could feel the chill run down his spin as I’d tickled his ear with my breath. He looked at me, and gave me a side smile which had been noticeable enough for most to see his teeth. He leaned closer his ear inches from mine. “I can show you luxury you could never comprehend dear Marabella.” His voice was thick and husky. My breath would’ve hitched if I hadn't known what he was like in the bedroom already. “We both know I am the one who knows best dear friend.” I hummed looking back to our master. “Do I have any volunteers?” He asked, breaking through the quiet of the room. “I will be our representative Master Aber.” I stood, my leathers shifting with my body. “Pack your things Ms Marabella. Your contract, and supplies will be provided for by the end of today.” I nodded my head and that was the end of that.

[writethesleepaway]

Getting to Know You - P1

Summary: Mike isn't exactly excited when he sees who he's paired up with for chemistry, not because you're a bully, but because you're a mystery. Now, he's doing what he can to solve said mystery.

Pairing: Mike Wheeler x Fem!Reader

WC: 1540

Warnings: none! (maybe swearing?)

A/N: SORRY FOR THE ABSENCE i have been busy preparing to leave for uni (which is quite literally across the world) but i have been reading so many mike wheeler fics i cant get enough of this skinny malnourished emotionally constipated boy

(divider by @delishlydelightfuldividers)

Mike’s eyes trailed down the blackboard as he looked for his name. His teacher said that they’d be starting experiments, and the name of your lab partner would be listed next to yours on the board.

Mike Wheeler & Y/N Y/L/N

He wasn’t exactly sure what to think. Y/N Y/L/N was sort of an enigma to the Hawkins High community. There was no girls team for sports besides cheer, so naturally, she fought tooth and nail to be on the boy’s soccer and swim team. Half of the team adored her for her blunt personality and respected her ability in the sport, the other half hated her for ‘contaminating’ the guy’s team. Y/N didn’t care at all what people had to say about her, claiming the coach had ‘no respect for the sport or any person’s ability in it’ when he initially didn’t allow her to be on the soccer team. It took even longer for her to be accepted to swim, something about ‘you can’t have the girl swimming with the guys, she’ll be a distraction!’ 

Lucas had dragged him and the rest of the party along to a few of her soccer matches before, saying she was a whizz on the field and definitely someone to watch. Most of the group didn’t exactly enjoy the sport, or the people who played it, but they watched to keep Lucas happy. El and Max thought she was so cool, for standing up to her challenges and fighting to play. Dustin laughed as he watched the opponents complain and whine whenever Y/N scored or stole the ball from them. Will wasn’t exactly opinionated, he just tagged along for the general excitement that comes from any sports game. Steve was forced to babysit, who brought Robin along, and they seemed to just talk amongst themselves for most of the game, except for any time someone would score. 

Mike didn’t exactly hate her, to be fair he didn’t really know much about her, other than her ability to argue to be on sports teams. He wasn’t exactly excited to work with her, but at least she wasn’t some bully, so he didn’t have too much to complain about either.

“Wheeler, hurry up, let’s get this done with!” you called out to him as you finished setting up the equipment on the bench.

“How the hell have you already got this, class started like 3 minutes ago?”

“I’m fast like that, now come on, let’s get this done early so we can spend time doing what we want?”

“Yeah but it’s a whole titration…”

“And? Like I said, I’m fast. Wouldn’t you rather be figuring out stuff for Hellfire?”

Mike gawked at you as you continued to pour the various chemicals into the glassware.

“Close your mouth. Are you going to sit there or will you help?”

“You know about Hellfire?” he asked as he handed you the other material.

“Yeah… Why wouldn’t I?” you responded as you bent over to look at the burette more closely.

“Uhm… I just thought… It’s not exactly your style…”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, y’know, you’re all, sporty and stuff. You hang out with the popular kids!”

“Please, you think my friends and I are popular? The popular kids give me shit for being a girl on the boy’s team, I am not popular.” you couldn’t help but laugh at his reaction.

“You totally are! You’re a jock!”

“And just because I play sports means that I wouldn’t know about your club?”

“Yeah, wait no, I mean, yeah! I didn’t know you cared about us!”

“I don’t.”

“Oh.”

“But I know y’all exist. Your leader, Munson? He’s”

“Loud.” “A freak, I know.” you both said at the same time. Mike’s jaw dropped again, surprised that you didn’t say the same thing as him.

“What, why would you call him a freak? Isn’t he your friend?”

“He is, but, I expected you to say that he’s a freak.”

“Why would I call him that?”

“Because, that’s kinda what we’re known for…? Y’know? People call us devil worshippers, especially Eddie.”

“If you haven’t noticed, I don’t follow popular opinion. I don’t think of you as freaks, or devil worshippers. You guys just play a game you like and you’re passionate about it. Munson just so happens to be loud, so of course I’d notice the guy standing on top of the table and yelling about his club.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“Okay switch, I’ve done the first part, you do the rest. I’ll record the results.”

“Uh, yeah, sure.”

Mike wasn’t sure why he was feeling so weird. He barely knew you, and yet somehow he was so surprised at your personality. He half expected to be laughed at for the whole lesson, but to learn that you’re not as judgemental, but also know about him, and don’t see him and his friends as devil worshippers? He felt like someone had turned him upside down onto his head.

“Wheeler.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re staring at me. Stop staring at get your work done.”

A blush rose to his cheeks as he kicked his ass into high gear to finish the experiment. Your words from earlier, telling him to finish early so you could to what you wanted, resonated in his head, but he no longer wanted to think about DND. His mind was occupied with you, standing in sweats and a crop top with your swimsuit peeking out from underneath. 

“Do you, uh, have a match later?” he muttered as he continued the experiment.

“Nah, just practice, I have the state championships this weekend.”

“Oh really? I’m sure you’ll do great, in…” he trailed off as he tried to think of what stroke you were known for, earning a giggle from you, as you could clearly tell he didn’t know what he was talking about.

“It’s okay Mike, I know you don’t keep up with swimming.”

“But I want to!”

“Do you want to because you enjoy swimming, or because you feel bad that I’ve noticed your interests and you haven’t noticed mine?”

“How the hell do you do that?”

“How the hell do I do what?”

“Be so, smart? And honest? You like, say what you want, and you’re right.”

“I’ve kinda learned to not give a shit, y’know? I stand out already with being the only girl on the team, why not just be myself? I don’t care for labels or stereotypes.”

“That’s really cool.”

“Yeah? You should try it sometimes.”

“What do you mean?” he asked as he stood up to look at you properly.

“Work, Wheeler, get the experiment done.”

“Right, sorry.”

“You seem to care a lot about cliques, about the reputation you and others have. Who gives a damn if someone thinks y’all are devil worshippers, they don’t know you, so why do they matter?”

“That’s a… good point. Dunno, I just hate bullies.”

“So do I, but I don’t pay any mind to them, and that makes em leave me alone because they know they can’t bother me.”

“That’s admirable, but I’m not at that level yet.”

“That’s fine, it comes with time and practice. I wasn’t always like this.”

“Really? You seem so badass.”

“Nah, I cried so hard the first time I was denied entry on the soccer team.”

“What?! You can cry?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at Mike’s comment. 

“Do you seriously think I’m some stone cold no feelings no bullshit girl?”

“Yeah…? Are you not?”

“Mike Wheeler, you know nothing about me, at all.”

“Can I… get to know you? Okay wait, that came out weird, I swear I’m not like, obsessed with you or anything, I mean it’s really cool that you’re all ba-“

You doubled over laughing at his nerves, panting as you tried to catch your breath from laughing too hard. Luckily someone else had made a mess of their experiment, meaning the teacher’s attention was on them and rather on you.

“Mike, do I make you that nervous?” you teased as you noticed his face slightly turning pink.

“Is it that obvious?” he replied as he laughed at himself. 

“I know you didn’t mean it in a creepy way, don’t worry. And sure, if you promise me one thing.”

“What is it?”

“Try not to judge a book by it’s cover yeah? You’ll end up doing the same thing those ‘bullies’ do.”

“Yeah, got it. Is uh, your swim competition open to anyone to watch?” 

“Nah, you need a ticket, why you want one?”

“Yeah, I wanna watch you win!”

“Mike, do you even know the four strokes…?”

“No, but, you can teach me?”

“Yeah, I’ll teach you. I’ll get you your ticket tomorrow.”

For the rest of the class you couldn’t help but laugh as you made small talk with him, conversing about really anything and everything. Mike could have sworn that he felt something, some slightly foreign feeling, somewhere in his mind, but he pushed it away as he tried to get to know you better. Every time you sent him a smile he couldn’t help but feel hot, like he was coming down with some cold. It was definitely something to ask Eddie about, but that was for another day. 

[taxolotl]

I LOVE TITRATIONS THEYRE AMAZING but also qnnoying at times. one tip my teacher gave me in high school was to make sure to rinse the tip of the burette and the walls of the beaker and to swirl the liquid inside after every drop when it got nearer to the end but this might be obvious info if so, im sorry. but yes titration r so fun !! i miss doing them

anon asked: Baby’s first titration :’) trust me when I say that in uni chem, you have to do so, so many. You’ll get good at them within the first few tries!

yeah for sure!! actually one thing i was pretty terrible at was using the volumetric pipette hahah definitely gonna have to work on that one :']

[mcwriting]

lab partners

Um pls be advised that I wrote Tom as a lil soft nerdy college boy and it's a lil angsty at one point but I promise it has a sweet ending :)

Ship: Soft!College!Nerd!Tom Holland x Reader

Word Count: 2383

Warnings: some angsty vibes, cussing

Not a warning but I talk about chemistry some so sorry if you're not a chem person lol

⚛

You shuffled through your chemistry notebook, trying to decide the most efficient way to get all of the necessary supplies before the experiment started.

That would, of course, require your lab partner to actually show up.

Tom was never actually late to the chemistry lab, but it wasn't unusual for him to show up with only a minute or so to spare.

As if on cue, he clambered through the door, taking the essentials from his backpack before stuffing it into the cubby next to yours. You pretended not to notice him as he slid onto the stool next to you.

"Mornin' sunshine," he said cheerily, setting down his gloves, goggles, and notebook. "What're you up to?"

"Just reading over my notes, as usual," you answered, closing the notebook and sliding it away from you.

"I'm hoping we can get out of this lab quickly today. Woke up late and didn't have time for breakfast," you yawned. "Hopefully they'll still have muffins at the dining hall when we're done, I'm craving banana nut."

You heard it as soon as you said it, and Tom's face lit up.

"I know of a banana with some nut you can have," he started, but you gave him a shove and quieted him.

"Shut up, you total weirdo," you laughed, hoping the other lab groups hadn't heard him. Couldn't let anyone think you and Tom actually had something going on.

Not that it mattered, but you didn't want to give off the wrong impressions. Maybe one day someone would take an interest and ask you out, excluding Tom, of course. That would be weird.

Not weird in a sense that you wouldn't say yes, though. It's just that after being lab partners for almost a year now he was just a friend and you were too close to really...

Oh forget it.

"Okay, okay." Tom conceded, hands raised. "But seriously, there is a granola bar in my bag if you want to eat it after we get the lab started. I'll watch the stuff and you can go in the hall."

You grinned. He may be an idiot, but at least he was a sweet one.

Really, though, he wasn't that much of an idiot. Not in the booksmarts sense. He definitely knew his stuff when it came to all of the concepts you'd learned.

More often than not it was you going to him to ask how to do certain problems or compare homework answers.

He was especially good with titrations, the experiment you were doing today.

You prepared to answer him about the granola bar when the TA started class.

"Okay, guys. We aren't having a quiz this week and you should already know the basics of this experiment, so you can get started with it as soon as you get your things together. The acids are under hood 1, pH meters are over there, and the indicator and solid base are on the counter. Let me know if you have any questions."

With that, you quickly got to work, splitting up to get things done faster.

The goal of the experiment was to calculate the concentration of an unknown acid based on how concentrated of a base solution you made.

After a previous incident that caused quite a large percent error (and wasted perfectly good product), you had kicked Tom off of weighing duties, instead leaving him to measure out the volume of liquid acid needed.

You were adding water to the solid base in a beaker when you heard a voice say "ah shit" under his breath. Any time you heard Tom say that, you knew that meant something was up.

When you turned, you found that Tom had spilled some acid on the counter, just a few inches from your laptop.

"Dude!" you exclaimed, grabbing it and setting it on a higher platform quickly. "Am I gonna have to take you off all measuring duties?"

Tom gave you a worried look.

"I'm sorry! I was trying to add it to the beaker from the graduated cylinder but some of it stuck to the side and spilled."

You furrowed your brows.

"Wait why did you measure it in the cylinder? You know the beaker has lines on it, right? We just have to factor the error into our calculations."

Tom went to facepalm, but stopped when he remembered the gloved hand he'd raised had acid on it.

"Now you remind me..." he muttered.

"Why don't you go waste what's left and clean this up while I measure some fresh into the beaker," you smiled patiently, knowing that small mistakes like this flustered him easily.

When you came back, Tom was washing the burette with a few milliliters of the base you had made over the sink. You looked down and saw a couple of drops had fallen from the base beaker.

"Well lets just hope that neutralized the acid he spilled," you thought as you went to wet a paper towel.

He saw you wiping up the spot when he came back to set up the burette.

"What are you doing? I already got the acid."

"I um... I spilled a little drop of my own. No biggie," you lied, hoping he wouldn't press it.

"I spilled some of the base, didn't I?" he asked flatly. You cringed but nodded. "Great. This really is my day so far."

You felt bad. Sure Tom could be clumsy or a little slow when it came to "common sense," but usually it was just one small thing towards the end of the lab, definitely not successive.

"Hey, look at it this way, the only 'bad' thing you did today was spill some reagents. And you already got it out of your system before we even started!"

"I'm not sure that's helping as much as you think it is, but thanks for the sentiment, y/n."

You scrunched your nose at his answer, but moved on, wanting to get the first titration done quickly, since you'd need to repeat it 2 more times.

Thankfully the first went by without a hitch. The numbers all seemed to be in order and it wasn't long before you were starting the experiment again to collect new data.

A while had passed, however, and your hunger was starting to make itself apparent. You tried to talk to Tom to distract yourself, but your stomach started growling enough that even he took notice.

"Seriously, y/n I'll get that granola bar for you if you want it," he offered again.

"No, I'll be okay. It looks like we only need to take a few more data points so we'll be done with the third trial in no time. Thanks, though."

As expected, you finished the second quickly and moved on to the third.

"Hey I'm going to clean up some of our glassware real quick if you don't mind taking measurements," you said, wanting to get ahead on cleanup so you could finally grab a meal. Tom nodded and you took some beakers to the sink.

As you were drying them, you saw Tom give you a nervous look from your station.

Oh no.

You quickly shoved the glassware in a drawer and walked over to find the solution had changed colors and all of the base drained from the burette.

"Tom what happened?" you asked, afraid that this meant you would need to do the trial again.

He looked worried as he held up a plastic piece. The stopper had broken off.

"Tom what the hell! We were almost out of here!"

"I know, I know, and I'm sorry but maybe the TA won't make us do it again? I was like.. basically to the endpoint."

You called the TA over, who looked at your data and sighed.

"Look, I know this is your last run but you've still got some base left, so why don't you do it one more time. You two are still a whole trial ahead of everyone else so it's not like you'll have to stay late," she said.

Internally, you were fuming, but thanked the TA and waited for her to leave.

"Why can't you just do something right for once!" you breathed, exasperated. You felt tears forming out of frustration.

Tom looked at you with glassy eyes of his own and you immediately felt like the worst person in the world.

You knew the hunger was getting to you but it didn't excuse your behavior. You tried to soften your expression.

"Oh, Tom, I'm sorry. I- I didn't mean it like that-"

"Like what, y/n? What other possible way could you have meant that? I get it, I'm a fuckup. Why don't you just do the last one and I'll write down the numbers. Surely I can do that right," he bit back, getting up to get you a new burette to replace the broken one.

You did the rest of the lab in silence. You'd tried saying something here or there, but he wouldn't even look at you, instead copying numbers into both his and your notebooks.

Your guilt had made you almost forget about your hunger, but it was still tugging at the back of your mind.

When you were done, most of the other groups were finishing up as well, so you and Tom wordlessly split up the tasks of cleaning things up to work around them.

You were putting the smaller glass pieces back into a casing that fit in a drawer when Tom went to grab his backpack and put away his notes.

As you did the same, you saw Tom's hand move before he zipped the bag and headed out quickly.

Left on the counter next to you was the granola bar he'd offered up earlier.

Now you felt even shittier. Here you were lashing out at the guy and he was still trying to take care of you.

You zipped up your bag as quickly as possible and stuffed the snack into your pocket as you ran out of the lab, hoping to catch up with him.

It was still another half hour or so until the normal class change, so the hallway and rest of campus was mostly empty. You easily spotted him opening up the door to your left.

"Tom, wait!"

He glanced back but didn't stop, stepping out into the sunshine.

You ran that way, bursting through the door as Tom was stomping away.

"Tom! Please just listen!" you exclaimed, running to catch up to him. He didn't stop, instead picking up the pace.

"Why should I listen to you? I am keenly aware of what you think of me."

"Because I don't really feel that way, Tom! You're not a fuckup."

Finally he stopped under a large tree.

"I may not be that but apparently I can't do anything right so take your pick on what's worse."

He looked angry and hurt, justifiably so. You grabbed his arms and looked him in the eyes.

"Tom, I am so, so sorry for what I said. I was hungry and frustrated and not at all patient with you. We all have bad days, and I shouldn't have forgotten that in the heat of the moment."

"That's the thing! My bad days are every day! I can't get through my day without tripping, breaking something, spilling reagents all over the lab! You weren't wrong about me and that's what freaks me out the most."

"But, I was! You aren't that person I mean-"

"Y/n just accept it. I've had girls break up with me because of this. My own roommates, hell my family, get pissed at me constantly because I can't do things right. I was naive enough to think that I was doing something right with you but here we are."

Tom hung his head before realizing what the implications of what he had said, popping back up to look at you with wide eyes. You could only smile.

"I like to think you were doing something right with me all along. I'm the one who messed everything up today. Tom, you are one of the sweetest, most genuine people I know. You're funny, hella smart, adorable. I don't deserve an incredible guy like you in my life. I mean, after what I said, you were still willing to give me your food? I can't think of anyone else who would do that for me."

Tom perked up some, a grin coming to his face.

"You needed it a lot more than me. But do you really mean that? You feel that way?"

"Of course I do." You paused, studying his face.

After a few seconds you reached up to grab his shoulders and kissed his cheek, then pulled him into a hug.

"I really hope you can forgive me. I truly think the world of you," you whispered.

He pulled back and brushed a strand of hair from your face. Both of you had watery eyes but grinned. He nodded, the did the unexpected.

He pressed a gentile kiss to your lips.

You both let out a chuckle in both relief and nervousness as you pulled away. You wiped your eyes as he did the same. There was a lull in conversation until you remembered something.

You patted your pockets, finding and fishing out the granola bar. You held it out to his and he gave you a confused expression.

"I, um. I think you should keep this for now."

"What do you mean? I gave it to you to eat."

"Well yeah but it's just... how would you like to join me in the dining hall instead? Call it a date, call it a post-lab meal. Either way, I'm hungry and would really like you to join me."

He thought about it for a second, but finally smiled and took the bar from your hand, sliding it in the side of his backpack.

"Come on, I could use a snack too," he answered, sticking an elbow out for you to wrap your arm in. "You think they'll have your banana nut muffin still?"

"I don't really care about that anymore, I think I've got a perfect muffin right here. But we should probably still hurry before the lines get too long."

⚛

A/N: I'm sorry but writing soft Tom was ??? Precious? I made myself feel so bad for him and he literally has never been, nor will ever be, in this situation but I mean come on.

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[alec-chance]

[ ALEC CHANCE, HE/HIM, ELLIOT FLETCHER ] is a TWENTY FOUR year old ATTENDANT AT THE DRIVE IN from HAZZARD, WV. They are OUTGOING and DEPENDABLE but also SPACEY and LOUD.

BASICS

FULL NAME: alec joseph chance 

NICKNAME(S): n/a 

BIRTHDAY: october 2, 1973

ZODIAC: libra sun, sagittarius moon, capricorn rising

AGE: 24 years old

HOMETOWN: hazzard, wv

BIRTHPLACE: chicago, il

RELIGION: atheist

alec is a trans man, but is living as a cis man since he moved to town about three years ago, using his move as a way to start over

FAMILY

MOTHER: dianna johnson (deceased)

FATHER: michael chance

AUNT(S): 1 on his father’s side

UNCLE(S): n/a 

SIBLING(S): n/a

COUSIN(S): n/a

PET(S): alec has a pet duck that he rescued as a duckling. his name is wilbur and is a 2 year old call duck

APPEARANCE:

HEIGHT: 5′7″

EYE COLOR: brown

HAIR COLOR: burette

HAIR STYLE: alec’s hair is curly and grown out almost to his shoulders, most of the time, it’s just down and he doesn’t do much more than brush it but from time to time he will put it in a low pony tail with a hair tie

FAICIAL HAIR: he has a very faint goatee and mustache (he has been on t for a few years but he still hasn’t been able to grow a full beard)

PEIRCINGS: his lobes are pierced and he has stretched them to a 00 gauge and has his left cartilage pierced 

TATTOOS: he has 6 tattoos, 2 he gave himself (i just go off elliot’s own tattoos and this one he gave himself)

DISTINGUSHED MARKS: alec is three years post op for his top surgery, while his scars are faded quite a bit, they are still visible. he doesn’t take his shirt off often but if someone does question his scars, he tells them he had lung issues growing up and needed surgery, most people don’t ask many follow up questions

STYLE:

alec is as grunge as they come. when he started transitioning, he dove head first into the the style. jeans, band t-shirts, flannels, holes in everything, a chain attached to his wallet, very classic 90′s grunge  

he has one very beat up pair of converse high tops and a pair of doc martens boots

FAMILY:

alec’s parents weren’t married when he was born, in fact, they were barely in a relationship

his mom raised him by herself until she passed away when he was 7 after which, after his dad had custody of him

his dad wasn’t a bad guy growing up, he was busy with work but he wasn’t awful. he and alec weren’t very close, but they didn’t have any fights or issues

that is until alec learned what being trans is and came out at 18. his father didn’t take it well, he thought alec was defying god and disowned him

when alec’s mom passed away, she had left alec everything including her life insurance policy, all of which was put into a savings account until alec turned 18. so after his dad disowned him, alec used the money to take care of himself, start his transition, and eventually buy a house in hazzard 

alec doesn’t talk about any of this, always giving vague answers if someone asks about his family or his life before hazzard

FRIENDS

alec is one of the burnouts around town at face value, he smokes and drinks a lot and likes to party, he skates and loves rock music and horror movies. but alec is also one of the friendliest people around

he can be friends with anyone and everyone, despite his rough look, he is a golden retriever at heart. very outgoing and easy to talk to

LIVING SITUATION

alec moved to hazzard about three years ago after passing through west virgina and saw an ad for a house for sale in the little town. every since his dad kicked him out, he was a drifter, always going where his friends went, moving around from state to state but never really set down roots. he bought the house with the remaining money from his mom and has been living in hazzard ever since

he lives in a 3 bedroom, 1 bath home that is definitely not as nice as the prosper homes, but he calls it home

he has two open rooms and always helps out friends when they need a place to stay the night, but he’s also looking for perinate housemates if anyone is interested 😉

WORK

alec works at the sterling drive-in movie theater and loves it, he’s such a movie buff and gets paid to watch movies all night. of course, the money and hours aren’t the best but he likes it

he’s a lazy employee if he was being honest, can be found smoking or drinking on the job with his coworkers. but hey, its a drive-in, who really cares as long as the movies play, right? 

SCHOOL

since alec is newish to town, no one knows what he was like in school. since it was before he transitioned, alec doesn’t really talk about his childhood or teen years

he was a good student, not the best but he tried hard and was able to get average Bs and that was enough for him

he used to play softball but will never tell anyone since that would out him

ASPIRATIONS

alec’s biggest dream is to just be happy. he wants to be surrounded by people who care about him and to feel loved. he doesn’t care about money or flashy things, he just wants to be happy with his life

but under all that cheesy stuff, alec also dreams of being a tattoo artist. he has his own tattoo gun that he uses to tattoo himself and friends (hit him up if you want something for cheap 😉) but he would love to become a real tattoo artist and work in a real shop one day

RIVALRY

being new to town, alec doesn’t know much about the rivalry like those who were born here. he just knows it exists and typically will side with the hazzard people since that is what town he lives in and tends to hang around 

[dourpeep]

Some indulgent college student Albedo hc’s because I too, am an exhausted college student. There may be a part 2 later on because this is kinda long, we'll see...

I even cut out a ton because I got carried away with the experiments oifhiehf but also feel free to guess what's based off what I do as a science major

Contains: description of experiments in biology that deal with deceased animals (brief), mention of dry heaving (brief), bugs (caterpillar)

While I do like art student Albedo, I can't help but apply my past knowledge with double majoring in biology + chemistry...

Ironically, though he really would be the Exhausted College Student aesthetic

For lecture days, he comes to class with bed hair (not the pretty kind, either) and glasses perched on his nose, wearing pajama pants

Except the days where he's dressed in nice jeans and a sweater (naturally, non-synthetic fibers due to the amount of time he spends in the labs), his lab coat very neatly kept in his backpack

It's extremely likely that he's that one student that's taking 18 hours worth of classes per semester which does and doesn't work out

Exceptionally smart, he's able to handle all the class load effortlessly and does really well in all the classes he takes...

But, on the flip side, he rarely gets a full night's rest and he lives in the research section of the library and the chem lab

Well versed in lab safety because he's dropped his fair share of test tubes, burettes and (very unfortunately) reaction flasks...luckily he had an ample amount of financial aid left over to pay for the equipment without making too much of a dent

Speaking of chemistry, his absolute favorite of experiments are titration labs and conducting qualitative analysis of an unknown solution

Titrations don't require too much effort save for ensuring you're only dropping a single drop of reactant to your solution and keeping track of how many milliliters you've dropped

It's relaxing, easy, and very pleasing to watch the color of your solution change

Also swirling liquid goes brrrrrrr

Similarly, those qualitative analysis labs are just as exciting

This is usually what most college students dread over due to how time consuming it is, but there's something entirely relaxing in going through the process of determining each possible reagent

Especially once you get towards the more difficult bits

Despite this being his favorite, there's definitely a special kind of frustration that occurs when, 3/4ths through you realize you messed up early on and have to restart with a fresh batch of that unknown solution

Yeah...

Anyway, he's the student that will get through the process quickly (almost inhumanly so) and finish the whole lab in about 40 minutes including downtime waiting for the solution to heat up properly

But, as always, he's also the last to leave because he'll go around and help any of his peers if they're stuck or just need a trustworthy assistant

With biology, he appreciates the change in pace of observational study versus the hands-on application of chemistry

You know how you need to doodle out an approximate of what you're studying either as an example or diagram?

That's where his artistic side come out

He has somewhat messy handwriting, but the accompanying drawings of specimen are incredible

Detailed, concise, and labeled immaculately

You can tell that he likes identifying types of plants because his notebook is filled with outside observations of the plant life around campus

Albedo also does well with dissections

Quick to pick up on correct placements and identifying the sex characteristics if necessary, any student who's grouped with him will leave that day's lab with excellent notes and a full understanding of the specimen studied

But the smell of the preserving formaldehyde...is definitely one he had to get used to

Let's just say that for one of the larger lifeform dissections he had to periodically leave the class dry heaving and tears streaming down his cheeks

Anyway, a few big gulps of fresh, outside air later, he's back in the lab and sketching out the specimen diagram for the assignment

Another thing that he's definitely glad for is the local butterfly population

Though their lives are short, it gives him a chance to inspect the plant life all over campus for any sign of caterpillars or the very small eggs on the tops and bottoms of leaves

With the permission of the dean, he carefully gathers a few specimen and takes them home to observe the butterfly life cycle

It's interesting to him, to see how the little creatures consume so much and spend about two weeks encased in a pretty little chrysalis to emerge as a physically different organism

It's also funny to see Albedo out and about looking for the little beings because sometimes he'll be laying flat on the concrete walkway searching under leaves or halfway in a bush trying to reach a chrysalis hanging on the wall behind it

MOVING ON

Commonly, he'll have enough time between class for a nap

Albedo isn't particularly picky about his sleeping places, so he'll lay on one of the benches beneath a large tree, head on his backpack and arm draped over his eyes while he catches up on much needed sleep

He also will sleep in one of the library's many many (very comfortable) armchairs while trying to skim through a reference book of his choice

Despite his odd mannerisms, he's viewed as exceptionally attractive

He's intelligent, observant, kind, and handsome

Even with his bed head and rumpled pajamas, he has his fair share of fans

But he's also a bit dense

He's so used to helping people with class assignments and tutoring that if anyone asks him to hang out, he'll assume it's for that

Especially because it's commonplace to study at the local cafe

--that's it for headcanons for now iaehfieh

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Eccentricity [Chapter 9: Now I Love Your Shadow And I Love Your Curls]

Series Summary: Joe Mazzello is a nice guy with a weird family. A VERY weird family. They have a secret, and you have a choice to make. Potentially a better love story than Twilight.

Chapter Title Is A Lyric From: “Til I Die” by Parsonsfield. 

Chapter Warnings: Language, references to sex, violence, and drug use.

Word Count: 7.6k.

Other Chapters (And All My Writing) Available: HERE

Taglist: @queen-turtle-boiii​ @bramblesforbreakfast​ @maggieroseevans​ @culturefiendtrashqueen​ @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark​ @escabell​ @im-an-adult-ish​ @queenlover05​ @someforeigntragedy​ @imtheinvisiblequeen​ @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhyee​ @deacyblues​ @tensecondvacation​ @brianssixpence​ @some-major-ishues​ @haileymorelikestupid​ @youngpastafanmug​ @simonedk​

Field Trip

“You want to go to Chicago with me?”                

I coughed, having almost inhaled a chunk of pineapple off my slice of GrubHubbed pizza. We were sitting on the grass outside Forks And Spoons under the shade of the maple trees, which were turning from jade to ruby to amber to fool’s gold, rejoining the earth they once rose from one fallen leaf at a time. It hadn’t rained in almost four days—was that some kind of record?!—and the leaves littering the ground crunched when I stepped on them, which I did purposefully and often. The breeze was soft and whispery and temperate. I could get used to this whole having actual seasons thing. “What, in like a hypothetical, at some point in my life kind of way?”

Joe smiled. His U Chicago hoodie of the day was black. “No, as in this weekend.”

“Really?”

“The Cubs have a game on Saturday, and it’s supposed to be rainy and overcast the whole time, and I just thought...” He shrugged, toying with a piece of pizza crust before tossing it to the squirrels. He’s nervous, I realized. How the hell do I have the ability to make the sexy undead Italian man nervous? “It might be nice for us to be able to get away for a few days. Away from my family. Away from Charlie. Not that I don’t appreciate the ambient noise of his snoring from the living room couch, it’s super endearing, I seriously consider dating him instead of you at least twice a week.”

“Go for it. Charlie could use a rich husband. His pension is pathetic.”

“You wouldn’t miss me?”

“I am not necessarily opposed to clandestinely seducing my sugar daddy stepdad should the occasion arise.”

Joe crossed himself like a nun passing tattooed, cursing, lip-pierced teenagers on the sidewalk. “Lord, protect me from this harlot.”

A weekend away. No Charlie, no constant and chaotic whirlwind of Lees, no Ben. I hadn’t spoken to Ben since our misadventure in the Lee kitchen; if he wasn’t avoiding me of his own volition, he was following orders to stay away. Joe claimed that they’d talked it out. I wasn’t sure if I believed him. “I accept your invitation. Although, truthfully, I’d rather get hit by a bus than watch an entire real-life, no-commercial-breaks baseball game.”

“I accept your acceptance. And I’ll throw in a visit to the Shedd Aquarium, just for you. They have baby sea otters.”

“Sweet.” I checked my iPhone. “I’m gonna be late for Chemistry.”

“Anything fun planned?”

“We’re doing a lab involving hydrochloric acid. I’m highly concerned that Ben will accidentally spill some on himself. The miraculous instantaneous healing thing might raise a few questions.”

“Hm,” Joe replied. But he wasn’t looking at me; he was looking at my bandaged hand. And he wasn’t smiling anymore.

“Joe, I’m fine.”

“Yeah.” He took a preoccupied swig of his Dr. Pepper. Solemnity never seemed right on him; it was like he was wearing somebody else’s skin. “You’ve mentioned that.”

“Hey. Mob guy.”

Now his eyes flicked to mine.                              

“No more sad spaghetti.”

“Okay.” He surrendered, took my face in his hands, gave me a kiss on each cheek and then one quick parting peck on the forehead. “You win. I’m not sad. I’m ecstatic, actually. I’m gonna be eating my weight in hotdogs and mustard-slathered pretzels on Saturday. What’s there not to be ecstatic about?”

“The fact that your license says you’re only twenty and consequently can’t get a beer?”

Joe blinked, remembering. “Fuck.”

I drained my Diet Coke, flung my pizza crust to the skittering grey squirrels—no eerie albino forest friends today—and pulled on my backpack. “See ya. Have an awesome time in Game Theory.”

“Thanks, I probably won’t!” he chimed, waving, grinning compliantly; and yet did I still sense some lingering menace of disquiet, of fear? I suspected I did. Chicago would cure everything.

Ben tensed when I walked into Professor Belvin’s classroom, ran his fingers through his unruly blond hair, peered fixedly down at his notebook and feigned obliviousness. There was already a metal tray of Erlenmeyer flasks, labeled bottles of solutions, burettes, goggles, gloves, and an unassembled ring stand crowding our small table by the open window. Autumn air poured in like seawater through cracks in the hull of a ship.

“Guess who’s gonna see the Cubs play up close and personal this Saturday?” I announced.

He pretended to have just noticed me. “...You...? But that doesn’t sound like you.”

“It was Joe’s idea. I’m acting like I’m not totally thrilled and freaking out about it, but I am. Don’t tell him.”

Now Ben was the one staring at my bandaged hand. His green eyes were large and unfocused.

“I’m fine,” I insisted.  

“Sure,” Ben returned noncommittally.

I started skimming through the packet of lab instructions and setting up our titration experiment as Professor Belvin circulated through the classroom, observing, commenting, offering suggestions and critiques. My wounded hand—still sore in the lull between Advil doses and relatively useless—was quite the embarrassing hinderance; I fumbled with a large glass flask and almost dropped it.

Ben shook his head and reached out to stop me. “Here, oh my god, this is so pitiful, sit down. Please sit down. I’ll set it up. It’s the least I can do.”

“Thanks.” I peeked at his notebook. “Your handwriting is atrocious. Haven’t you had like a century to work on that?”

“Penmanship was never at the top of my to-do list, tragically.”

“What language is that, anyway?” The phrases scrawled in black ink in Ben’s notebook definitely weren’t English. Or Italian. “Elvish? Are you a lowkey Lord Of The Rings fan? Magic and self-sacrifice and nearly insurmountable evil, I could see that being your thing.”

He smirked, struggling with the ring stand. “It’s Welsh.”

“Welsh,” I repeated, perplexed. “Welsh...like how Gwil is Welsh?”

“Precisely.”

Professor Belvin checked in on us, nodded in approval, reminded me that I was always welcome to stop by at bowling league activities, and resumed his wandering.

“Gwil still speaks it,” Ben continued. “The rest of them speak it too. At least enough for basic communication.”

“I didn’t know,” I said, fascinated, examining the long, unfamiliar words riddled with Ls and Ws and Cs. “But that must be very useful.”

“It is. Welsh is nearly a dead language at this point. It’s like talking in code. I always refused to learn it on principle...or maybe I was just being difficult. I would study other languages, Arabic, Japanese...but not Welsh. That was always Gwil’s language. Their language. It was a Lee thing. But now...”

“Now you’re sort of a Lee too,” I finished for him, smiling.

“Whatever,” Ben said, hiding behind his bangs.

I watched him as he at last tamed the ring stand, secured the burette, placed the Erlenmeyer flask. Then he began reading the labels on the solution bottles. “Guess what else.”

“What, Baby Swan?”

I grinned, showing off my unremarkable, entirely benign human teeth. “I’ll bring you back your very own U Chicago hoodie.”

That night, after a pleasantly prosaic dinner with Charlie—burgers, one veggie and one of the conventional variety, and milkshakes at Danny’s Diner—I started packing a small, Arizona-sky-blue suitcase as sparse raindrops pattered against the roof and moonlight streamed in through the open window. Then I ticked off my mental inventory.

“Jeans, sweaters, pajamas, socks...”

I pawed through the top drawer of my old, scratched dresser—the same one that had once upon a time been Renee’s—and contemplated the bra and panty options. Would my theme be comfort and practicality, or feral impenitent seductress? Friday and Saturday in Chicago would be our first nights alone together. That had to be significant, right? After some deliberation, I gathered a handful of lacy, transparent, and/or exceptionally skimpy lingerie from Victoria’s Secret that Jessica had more or less forced upon me during a shopping trip in Port Angeles last month. As I dropped them into the open suitcase, I glanced up to see the albino owl outside my open bedroom window.

“You never know,” I told the owl, shrugging.

It leered judgmentally back at me with those gory red eyes.

“Oh shut up. How many eggs have you laid in your lifetime, Casper The Unfriendly Ghost? Probably like a bazillion. Freaking feathery trollop.”

The owl had nothing to offer in its own defense.

“Why don’t you ever come around when Joe’s here? I’m sure he’d love to meet you. He’s pale and weird too. Although I like his eyes a little better than yours. No offense, Snowflake.”

The owl blinked, tilted its gaze at me, ruffled its feathers and sent the raindrops that had gathered there flying in every direction.

I slid my iPhone out of my back pocket, spun around, and snapped a quick selfie with the owl in the background. “Say cheese, Marshmallow!”

The owl immediately unfurled its wings and flapped off into the trees, vanishing.

“Huh. I guess homegirl is camera shy.” I texted my selfie to Archer, typing out with my thumbs: I am the Steve Irwin of Forks. Behold, one of my many forest friends.

Archer replied a few minutes later: WOW! Pasty and mildly disturbing. Exactly your type. :)

“Yours too, apparently,” I murmured, smiling in my empty room.

I went to my full-length mirror with the plastic, teal-colored border, briefly appraised my reflection, felt a dull swell of approval for what I saw there. The version of myself that had once been so consumed by fears of inadequacy seemed impossibly far away, maybe even fictitious, a dream so vivid I could mistake it for truth. Three things were taped across the top of the mirror: Joe’s Official Citation!! No More Sad Spaghetti!! post-it, his Official Whatever You Want Pass, and a photo of us dressed up together and standing in front of the limo in the Lees’ driveway just before the Calawah University Homecoming dance. I peeled off the Official Whatever You Want Pass, carefully folded it into a neat little square, and tucked it into my wallet.

When the rain began to pour and thunder rolled in off the Pacific Ocean, I closed my bedroom window; but I remembered to leave it unlocked for Joe.

Departure

“Got your license?”

“Yes, Dad,” Joe sighed.

“Got your airport snacks?”

Joe held up the gallon-sized Ziploc bag filled with pumpkin and white chocolate chip cookies. “We’re ready to rock.”

“Call me when you get there safe,” Mercy fretted, hugging me and then Joe. “And Joseph, sweetheart, you make sure you keep an eye on her. She’s never been to Chicago before, it’s a big city, and O’Hare is an absolute nightmare, it’s so easy to get lost...”

“I don’t think he needs any reminders, love.” Dr. Lee laid a hand on her shoulder, stroked his neatly-trimmed beard with the other, watched us with a vague and wistful smile.

Mercy went back to trimming the flowers she had spread out across the kitchen countertop, white calla lilies that she threaded one by one into a translucent sapphire blue vase. “Now don’t forget to say goodbye to your brother. He’s out back feeding the new ducks. And I expect these ones to stick around for a while, thank you very much.”

“Mom, I don’t need to say goodbye to Rami. I’ll just think it. Really loudly.” Joe rubbed his temples with his fingertips and squeezed his eyes shut. “Peace out, you nosy bastard.”

“Joseph,” Mercy pleaded.

“Okay, okay, I’ll go say goodbye. Don’t get all aggressive. Don’t take it out on the flowers.” Aggressive...what a joke. I doubted that Mercy Eleanor Lee, formerly Martin, had a single aggressive bone in her immortal body; not even the infinitesimal stapes of her inner ears or the sesamoids of her feet.

“They’re calla lilies,” she replied dreamily, tending them like children. “And they symbolize love, and beauty, and fidelity...”

My nostrils itched and burned faintly in dissent. “I think I’m allergic to them.”

“You’re allergic to fidelity?” Joe asked, raising his eyebrows. “That’s it, now you’re definitely not getting my reclaimed virginity. No ma’am. I am not hit-it-and-quit-it material.”

“Oh sweet baby Jesus,” Mercy murmured.

“I’m going,” Joe said, showing his palms in capitulation and disappearing out the back door. I dragged my suitcase to the front one, politely declining Mercy and Gwil’s offers to help.

Lucy—her bleached hair in a high half-ponytail and wearing polka-dotted black tights, combat boots, a plaid miniskirt, and an extremely Octoberish orange sweater—was sitting cross-legged on the roof of Gwil’s Volvo. God, he’s such a dad. “Have a nice time,” she chirped artfully.

I opened the hatch of Joe’s Subaru and threw my suitcase inside. “Why do you sound like you already know I will?”

“I might have some relevant clairvoyant insight.”

“No way.” I stared up at her, stunned, my hands on my waist. “But you can’t see me, right...?”

“True. But this vision wasn’t of you. It was of Joe. You just happened to be there.”

Interesting. Very interesting. “And what transpired in this vision?” A night full of hot, steamy, blissful vampire sex? A girl could dream.

Lucy closed her eyes, recalling it fondly, maybe even cherishing it. “You were sitting in the stands of a professional baseball game. I could hear the crowd roaring, the umpire’s trumpeting interruptions. Blue and white...everyone was wearing blue and white. And you were there together—Joe a vampire, you human, side by side, almost entwined—shouting to each other over the thunderous noise and laughing and pushing nuggets of soft pretzels into each other’s mouths. So happy. I’d never seen Joe so happy.” Her striking pale eyes came open. “And he’s someone who’s already rather prone to happiness, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

“I have,” I agreed.

“He’s never been serious about anybody else. I hope you know that.”

“I know that’s what he tells me.”

“It’s the truth,” Lucy insisted. “I would know if it wasn’t. Rami would know, Ben would know. Joe...he’s kind of the opposite of you. He’s always been the easiest to read. He’s the one Rami hears most loudly, the one who shows up most often in my visions. He’s clear, you know? Uncomplicated. Authentic. And what you mean to him...it’s something everybody sees. It’s a contagious sort of lightness, of joy. So thank you for that.”

And if whatever mysterious genetic switch that renders me immune to your talents wasn’t flipped, I’m pretty sure I’d look the same way. “I should definitely be thanking you,” I said. “You guys have a pretty cool existence going on here. And I’m so grateful to be invited into it.” For however long this lasts, anyway.

“None of us really invited you,” Lucy demurred. “We just let it happen.”

“So everyone knew I was coming? Because you saw it?”

“Everyone but Joe.”

“You never told him?”

“No. Not even now.” Lucy turned sharply towards the trees, as if she heard something in the soaring western hemlocks that swayed drunkenly in the wind. After a moment, she continued. “I’m not sure if I can even explain why. It wasn’t that I feared changing the timeline or something...my visions always come true regardless. Always. But I guess...” She tugged on her short half-ponytail, pondering. “I guess I didn’t want to cloud any of his decision-making, any of his emotions with the specter of the inevitable. I wanted whatever he felt for you to be completely organic. And it is.”

I considered her. “You are extremely thoughtful for someone who spends as much time shopping as you do.”

Lucy laughed in a high-pitched, almost juvenile trill, netting her fingers beneath her chin, her elbows resting on her bent knees. “I do like to shop. I didn’t always though.” She peered off into the trees again, this time pensively. “Did Joe tell you anything about my life before Gwil saved me?”

“Aside from the copious hippie jokes, not really.”

She nodded, her eyes far-away and still lost in the forest. “Gwil and Mercy are inordinately wonderful people. My biological father and mother, unfortunately, were not. And maybe they couldn’t help it, because from what I understand their parents were monsters too. I don’t think of them very often now, not even to resent them. But when I was alive I burned with it, with all that hatred, with all that bitterness. Every bruise was another log on the fire. Every screaming match or hurled plate was a splash of gasoline. So I ran away and found what I fancied to be a new family, and I lived on basement couches and out of vans and in abandoned buildings, and I explored increasingly inventive ways of putting that fire out.”

The October breeze cascaded through the trees, carrying echoes of birdsong and disembodied distant voices and the scent of pine. It reminded me of Joe.

“Chemically speaking,” Lucy said, “that first hit of heroin, that first high...it’s the best you’ll ever feel in your entire life. Nothing else will ever compare. Not skydiving, not backpacking through Southeast Asia on some Pulitzer-prize-winning journey of self-discovery, not winning the lottery, not the births of your children, not falling in love. And once you accept that, what’s the point in stopping? Everything you ever experience will live in the shadow of that needle. You’re twenty-five and you’ve already seen the endgame. You’re born, you suffer, you catch a glimpse of paradise, you pay bills and push shopping carts down the aisles of grocery stores and insipidly smile your way through your husband’s work parties until you die. What’s the fucking point? So I didn’t stop shooting heroin. And the whole time, I knew it was killing me. That’s what they don’t tell kids when they force them to make those idiotic classroom promises to never do drugs. You know it’s killing you, but you don’t care. Because it feels so goddamn good. Because it becomes the only sliver of your existence that doesn’t cut like glass beneath your skin. Sometimes you love things so much you let them kill you, isn’t that ridiculous?”

I wasn’t sure how to answer her; still, I heard my own voice: “Yes, it is.”

“It took dying for me to see that life is worth living. That there’s magic in the mundane and the frivolous. And that there’s beauty everywhere if you bother to look for it.” Lucy uncrossed her trim legs, leapt gracefully off the Volvo, and—with definite but not unkind scrutiny—pulled at the collar of my thrift shop sweater. “Even in your very, very, very misguided fashion preferences.”

The front door of the Lee house swung open, and Joe jogged out, carrying his suitcase. Gwil, Mercy, Scarlett, Rami, and Ben appeared on the porch to wave us off.

“What’d you do?!” Joe demanded, pointing at Lucy.

“Nothing,” she quipped.

“You guys gotta stop doing this!” Joe exclaimed. “You know what you’re doing, you know exactly what you’re doing, you gotta stop cornering people and forcing them to listen to your creepy tragic backstories! Nobody freaking asked!”

Lucy chuckled patiently and stood on her tiptoes to hug him goodbye. “Have fun.”

“You know it.” Joe tossed his suitcase into the Subaru and opened the driver’s door. “Ready, Baby Swan?”

“Almost.”

I walked to the wrap-around porch, climbed the steps, held my hand out to Ben. My stitches had almost completely dissolved over the past week, and the clunky impediment of bandages was no more. Joe crossed his arms and watched from beside the Subaru with an uneasy frown, but he didn’t try to stop me. He nodded to Rami, so subtly I almost didn’t notice. Rami nodded back.

“I will miss your melodramatic brooding immensely,” I told Ben. “Please do some fun family stuff while we’re gone. I’ll see you soon. Dan eich bendith.”

“Dan eich bendith,” he replied, taken aback. And then, after a moment’s hesitation, he ignored my outstretched hand and embraced me, his grasp so strong and yet so careful. His scent like crisp leaves and salted caramel and autumn sieved into a bottle unfolded in my lungs like an opened book.

“I Googled that especially for you,” I whispered. “You’re welcome.”

“I’m in awe.” His words were characteristically sardonic, but I heard warmth in them as well. When Ben pulled away, I saw that everyone else was smiling. Mercy had tears in her eyes.

I retreated back down the porch steps and met Joe by the Subaru. “Okay, mob guy. I’m good.”

He slid on his sunglasses, shook his head, flashed a proud and toothy grin. “You definitely are.”

All the way down Route 101 to the Seattle-Tacoma International Airport, we listened to Joe’s classic rock mixtapes and my NOAA Ocean Podcast episodes, reviewed the weekend itinerary, ran through the bare essentials for me to understand an MLB game (“Which I am totally not excited about whatsoever,” I informed Joe, who knew enough not to believe me).

When the Boeing 747 ascended above the clouds and unimpeded sunlight poured in from the other passengers’ windows, Joe put on a black sleeping mask over his sunglasses and reclined his seat, tried to nap, passed the time until he would be safe beneath the curtains of the sky again.

Somewhere over the Dakotas, as I leafed through a book about the Great Barrier Reef for my Marine Botany class, Joe’s hand bumped mine. “Hey,” he said drowsily, seriously; and I braced myself for some emotional declaration, some dire warning, some grave realization of the futility of what we agreed—almost always wordlessly, and yet unfailingly—was love.

“Yeah?”

“It’s an emergency.”

“Uh oh,” I replied, smiling now.

“Flag down the flight attendant and get some more of those honey roasted peanut packets,” Joe said. “I’m starving myself back to death over here.”

The Windy City

The bat cracked deafeningly against the baseball pitched at nearly a hundred miles per hour. It was a home run. The crowd erupted into mindless, primal shrieks of conquest; and when Joe jumped to his feet, clapping and cheering and nearly spilling his blue-and-white bucket of popcorn, I found that I did as well. I screamed for the team of a city I’d never lived in, sank back into my seat beside Joe, nestled against his chest as his right arm closed around my waist and hauled me in closer, as his left hand teased me with a soft pretzel nugget hovering just out of reach. And in that moment, I felt like Lucy, snatching Polaroids out of the space-time continuum of the present and the future and the past. There was where Joe and I were right now, of course; the day we had met each other in the nonfiction section of the Calawah University library; the dance floor at Homecoming; the first night he snuck soundlessly into my bedroom window; all those years we still had left to spend together. Not forever, but perhaps long enough.

“I like this baseball thing,” I told him over the roar of the crowd, twirling my fingers around the curling locks of dark hair that stuck out from under his Cubs cap. Or maybe I just like you.

“Whew, thank god.” Joe wiped his forehead with the back of his hand in mock relief. “Now I don’t have to break up with you.”

After the game—a 5-3 Cubs victory, close enough to keep the spectators’ blood pumping throughout—we boarded the L, held onto the metal railings as the packed train car bumped and swerved along, and disembarked in Little Italy. Historic brownstones were interrupted by a freckling of pizzerias, Italian ice stands, and sports bars spilling out shouts of triumph and despair. We were staying in the Four Seasons with a view of Lake Michigan; but we had an hour of daylight—albeit chilled, dreary, and forever threatening rain—left in our Saturday. Tomorrow would be the aquarium, and then dinner before catching our flight back to Seattle, back to the greenery and fog and eternal dampness that I was beginning to think of as my home. Had I really only left Phoenix two months ago? Had I ever really lived there at all?

“So,” Joe said as we walked under shedding green ash and black cherry trees, his arm draped across my shoulders. “Guess what the University of Chicago has. In addition to a killer Economics PhD program, which yours truly will be graduating from in approximately 2027, astonishingly aged not a single day. Maybe he’s born with it, maybe it’s Maybelline.”

“Hideous sweatshirts?” I guessed.

“One of the best Marine Biology departments in the world. And the affiliated Marine Biological Laboratory up in Massachusetts, where they send their PhDs to do research.”

“Wait, seriously?” I stopped abruptly, the heels of my boots squealing against the sidewalk. “You mean...for me?”

He rolled his eyes. “No, for my other girlfriend who is also inexplicably super obsessed with the ocean. I clearly have a type.”

“You want me...to come to Chicago...with you...after graduation? For like...a five to seven year commitment?”

“Sure, why not?”

“Well, that just sounds...serious.”

“Huh. What do you know. I guess we’re serious after all.” He took my hand and pulled me gently forward, leading me down West Taylor Street. He seemed to have a destination in mind.

“How is this going to work for you, anyway?” I asked, beaming uncontrollably now, trotting along beside him. “Living in a place that isn’t Washington or Scotland or Alaska?” Chicago was cold and cloudy for a lot of the year, true, but few cities were Forks-level wet and sunless. Forks-level tyrannically depressing, I would have said two months ago.  

He shrugged, unphased. “Night classes. Sunglasses. Faking a chronic illness so I don’t have to leave our house. I’m really good at that one. Plus I can get a doctor’s note any time I want one. I’ve got connections, you know.”

Our house. He said OUR house.

Joe came to halt in front of a stately yet plain brownstone which now operated as a trendy bookstore, the kind that sold six dollar lattes and hosted anarchist poetry slams on Friday nights.

“Is this where we’re going to crack hipsters’ kneecaps as a bonding activity?” I asked.

“This is where I grew up.”

I looked again, studying the earth-colored stone quarried over a century ago, the wrought iron railings that framed the front steps, the rectangular windows revealing the illumination and shadows of other families’ lives. “Joe,” I said softly, leaning into him, searching for my words.

“There were eight Mazzello kids: Joseph, Charles, Mimi, Salvador, Donna, Lucia, Bianca, and Giuliano.” He rattled them off like a jingle from a fast food commercial. “And I was the oldest. So when my dad dropped dead of a heart attack in the middle of his shift at the Zenith Radio factory, it was my job to step up and figure out how to keep everyone fed. I was seventeen and completely hopeless at school back then; Sal was always the smart one, the disciplined one, he ended up as a math professor at Loyola University. I was just some directionless, grieving kid who never shut up. But there was a place for boys like me in Chicago in the 1920s. The mob could get you money. The mob could turn that same incessant chatter that got you bruised at school into something useful. And the mob could give you a family.”

Joe watched the brownstone solemnly, meditatively, his hands in his pockets.

“My mom sobbed for an hour the first time I brought home an envelope full of bills with Hamilton’s face on them. She knew how I got it. But how could she say no, how could she tell me to stop? We’d never seen money like that. All my siblings could finish school. My sisters could have new dresses on days that weren’t Christmas and Easter, my brothers new shoes, Sal the glasses he needed so badly. My mother always had something to put in the offering plate at church. And once you were in the mob, it wasn’t exactly easy to leave. But they took care of their own. After I died, they sent my mother money for years, until her own children were established enough to support her. That’s when I learned that money wasn’t just something that put food on the dinner table or kept the lights on. It’s a way of showing loyalty, of giving people peace and comfort and meaningful choices in their lives. It’s how I’ve been taught to give back to the world. So I guess I shouldn’t have disparaged my fellow vampires back in Forks, because there’s a slice of my tragic backstory, Baby Swan. Now you know. And you should know everything, since we’re in this thing together. Or maybe I just want you to.”

I laid my palm against his cool and flawless face, ran my thumb lightly across his cheek. “You really are serious about me.”

“I am alarmingly serious about you.”

“Even though this thing of ours has an expiration date?” Since I can never become a vampire. Since I will never have the distinction of being a permanent fixture of the Lee coven.

“That’s not a problem for today. That’s a problem for ten or fifteen years from now, whenever you decide you want to settle down and have kids and do the whole Great American Dream bit. You’ll be sick of me by then anyway. You’ll be dying to get away from us. Hahaha, get it? It’s a pun. Dying to get away from the vampires.”

I couldn’t imagine ever being sick of Joseph Francis Mazzello. Still, ten or fifteen years felt almost as good as forever to me. Fifteen autumns, fifteen Christmases, fifteen journeys around the sun that he avoided so deftly. “Why me, Joe?” I asked, incredulous. “You could have anyone. Any human, any vampire. Why me?”

“Because you’re you,” he said simply. And his mystified dark eyes added: What kind of a question is that? “You’re smart and you’re hilarious and you actually care about the world, about where it came from, about where it’s going, about people and places and animals that you’ll never meet. You’re indomitable. You’re fearless almost to the point of recklessness. And yet you’re so kind. You’re even nice to Ben, and humans are never nice to him...they’re either horrified or confused, or they’re too busy fantasizing about him to remember that he’s a real fucking person. But you’ve always tried to see the good in him. Even when he didn’t deserve it.” Joe shook his head, marveling. “And yeah, I’ve...I’ve screwed around, full disclosure. I’ve done the hookup thing. And it was great for what it was. But I never wanted more. I never felt some gnawing, sentimental, Hallmark-channel need for connection, to understand who they were as people. And then I met you, and...I want to know every single goddamn thing about you. I want to know your favorite color, what books you read, what the hell is so appealing about pineapple pizza, what you dream of. I feel like I could never get tired of trying to understand you.”

A refrain circled through my mind like a whirlpool, dragging every other thought down into oblivion: I love him, I love him, I love him. “Blue,” I said at last.

“What?”

“Turquoise blue, like the sky in Arizona. That’s my favorite color.”

The smile, slow and wonderous, rippled across his face. He took my hand again. “Come on.”

Joe led me onwards, down a few blocks and around a corner, as the muted sun receded from the sky and the first stars took its place, pinpricks of celestial light in a blanket of violet, azure, amber, rust. He stopped in front of the Church of Saint Lawrence, established in 1902 according to the sign mounted on the brick wall that faced the street, perhaps the same church that he had once visited with his family as an impatient child, snickering with his brothers and sisters and kicking the back of the pew in front of him with shoes that never fit quite right. There was a fountain bubbling with transparent water, a statue of the Virgin Mary at the center, coins made of copper and nickel and zinc glinting through the water under corridors of silvery luminance cast by the streetlights.

“I lied about not having my own superpower,” Joe informed me mischievously, not at all serious.

“Oh, did you now?”

“Absolutely.” He opened his wallet, rooted around, pulled out a penny and handed it to me. “I can make wishes come true. So go ahead.” He nodded towards the fountain. “Make your wish.”

The penny was worn and nearly indecipherable, but I was just barely able to read that it had been minted in 1928. The same year Joe was turned. “Joe...I can’t just throw this away!”

“You’re not throwing it away. You’re exchanging it for a wish. Now wish.”

I closed my eyes, chose my wish, tossed the penny into the fountain. The plink it made when it hit the water was bright and yet mournful somehow, like windchimes, like flickering candlelight.

“Outstanding job,” Joe complimented.

He was so visibly proud, so content, so faultless. The streetlights threw shadows across the sidewalk, the fountain, the whole world it seemed. I laced my fingers behind his neck, gazing up at him. “What are we doing tonight, mob guy?”

“I’m so glad you asked. You see, we have options.”

“Let’s hear them.”

“Door Number One,” Joe began. “It’s been a long day, and you’re exhausted from the illustrious honor of witnessing a Cubs victory firsthand. So we go back to the hotel, find some shark documentary on tv, order room service, shower, and drift off into a peaceful slumber. Just like last night.”

“Not bad. How about Door Number Two?”

“Door Number Two. You’re tired, but not that tired. We go back to the hotel, find that same aforementioned shark documentary, but totally ignore it and make out instead. Maybe we even round second base, in the spirit of the Cubs. Whatever you’re up for. Then we shower and drift off into a peaceful slumber.”

“Even better,” I said, and I meant it. “And what’s Door Number Three?”

Now Joe became jittery; his eyes darted to the fountain, the church, the cars that rolled lazily by. He was so desperate to conceal his hope, to not impose any undue influence upon me. I felt infinitesimal, almost weightless drops of rain against my cheeks, my collarbones, the downy undersides of my arms. “Well, uh, Door Number Three is...it’s...well...uh...it’s...”

Door Number Three is a home fucking run. “I want Door Number Three.”

“Really? Because you don’t have to say that, you can say no, that’s completely fine, it’s more than fine actually, it’s awesome, it’s totally cool, I’m seriously fine either way, and you can obviously change your mind whenever—”

“Wait.” I broke away from him, yanked my own wallet out of my purse, found the Official Whatever You Want Pass, hastily unfolded it, and presented it to Joe. “I want Door Number Three.”

He barked out a shocked laugh, accepted the pass, studied it in disbelief. “You are full of surprises, ma’am. It took me a hundred years to find a woman like you. And I don’t think I ever will again. Makes one wonder if this whole eternity thing is all it’s cracked up to be.” He tucked the pass into his pocket and kissed me beneath the streetlights, beneath the stars. “So there’s one tiny caveat to my wish-granting superpower.”

“Yeah?”

He smiled impishly, nudging the tip of my nose with his. “You have to tell me what you wished for.” He was joking, as he almost always was; I didn’t have to tell him anything. He wouldn’t press the issue. I doubted that he was really expecting me to answer at all. And yet I wanted to tell Joe; I yearned, for once, to be as clear as Lucy had said he was.

“For you and me,” I replied in little more than a whisper. “And for forever.”

Home

The only thing that startled me was how profoundly unstartling it all was, how wholly uncomplicated, how effortless.

I didn’t feel like a different person afterwards. I didn’t feel that some latent spark of lust, of carnality had been ignited, had singed through me, had left me forever marked like the heights of children ticked off on a doorframe over decades; I felt neither ruined nor awakened, no wiser, no older, no more enlightened as to the incalculable eccentricities of the vast and enigmatic universe. I felt only happiness, and exhausted satisfaction, and a deep, dreamless peace that engulfed me like frothy fingertips of waves dragging pebbles and shells back into the sea. I felt only a homecoming that was measured not in miles but in soul.

We slept in as the morning sun rose over Lake Michigan, bought Ben a hoodie (black, of course, per his usual aesthetic) from the University of Chicago gift shop, strolled unhurriedly through the dimly-lit, relentlessly blue pathways of the Shedd Aquarium. As I stood in the glass tunnel and watched sawfish and blacktip reef sharks soar by overhead, Joe linked his arms around my waist, tucked his chin into the dip of my collarbone, kissed the slope of my jaw.

“What do you think?” he asked, perhaps a touch apprehensively. “Could you get used to the Chicago life for a few years?”

“I would be tempted to kidnap some of these guys and bring them home to live in our bathtub. But yes.”

And Joe murmured, smiling, his lips to my temple: “That’s illegal, ma’am.”

Our flight back to the West Coast took off after dusk, and there was no blinding sunlight for Joe to avoid; only immense glooms of clouds and gleaming distant stars and the unfathomable void of space, cursed with crushing pressure and darkness like the cervices of the ocean floor.

Fifteen years might not be enough, I thought, resting my forehead against the cold airplane window as the city lights died behind us, as Joe’s hand weaved through mine on the armrest. But forever sounds just about right.

Larkin

There once was a boy born in a stone cottage with a dirt floor in a vanishingly inconsequential village just west of Clifden, Ireland. It was February 9th, 1672, bitterly cold, miserably wet, and the sea was murderous with storms. His mother was illiterate, as her mother had been, and as her mother had been as well, all the way back to people who painted mammoths on cave walls with their fingers; she was thirty-three and already exhausted with living, her seven children forever underfoot, her full and ruddy cheeks perpetually smudged with dirt from the field and ashes from the fire. Her husband was a failure and a drunk, but half a day’s worth of work once or twice a week was better than none at all; and as much as she never would have admitted it, he was a tether for her in a world that was often, as she had learned, both lonely and cruel.

She gave the baby boy a name—a strong Irish name, none of that audacious English rubbish—that meant rough or fierce, just like the sea that rose and ruptured against the rocky cliffs outside. He would need to be rough to survive in this world. He would need to be fierce.

He began like all the other children had been: sweet and yet anonymous, yielding, needful, worryingly small. She rocked him absently with one arm as she stirred the stew pot with the other. She sang to him, told him stories long before he could comprehend them, tales of the Lord and the saints and all their malevolent adversaries: serpents, pestilence, demons, dragons. She tossed stray sticks to him so he could carve pictures into the dirt floor and keep out of the way as she labored with the laundry or the sewing. And he grew, and he grew; and there was nothing remarkable about him at all, that boy speckled with mud and soot and the perpetual bruises of children mostly left to their own devices, that boy with pallid skin like his mother’s and black hair like his father’s and eyes so light and vibrant a brown they were nearly gold.

The boy was a baby, and then a child, and then a young man. And his mother realized one day—all at once, as a mother does when their attention is divided among so many other lives, when the children’s analogous faces bleed into each other and even their names sometimes escape her, even those names that she had chosen herself from the stories her own mother once passed to her through threadbare whispers—that people had a habit of following him, of listening to him. That there was an ether of allure that hovered around him like the mists that clung to the precarious, crumbling cliffs that touched the sea; that there was something like what the heathens called magic. And when the war came, that boy who was no longer a boy left his mother’s stone cottage and enlisted in Clifden, lied about his age, signed his name with an X because that was all he knew how to spell. But he was sure to tell the man who handled the ledger that he did have a real name, a good Irish name, a name apt for a soldier, a name that his mother had told him meant rough or fierce: Larkin.

There are men who join wars out of loyalty, principle, love for their homes; and then there are men who join to escape their homes, perhaps to forget them entirely. If you were to consult that ledger signed in a pub in Clifden, Ireland in 1688, you would read that I fought for Ireland, for the Catholics, for Christ the Lord and all his saints. But what I really fought for was my own resurrection: to take that boy stained with dirt and ignorance, drown him in the blood of other mothers’ trivial sons, and dredge up some greater version of myself that I had always known existed, that was hidden somewhere in the netlike darkness of the marrow of my bones.

People follow me, and they always have. I couldn’t tell you why. When I called them to enlist, when I thrusted swords and pikes into their calloused farmers’ fists, when I told them they could fight and live to see their wretched homes again, they believed me. I climbed the ranks like a ladder, like a mountain made of bones. And all those other mothers’ sons laid down for me so I could walk across the bridge of their spines to what I mistakenly assumed was invincibility.

At the Battle Of The Boyne, my horse was shot out from under me. A Williamite caught me beneath the ribs with his dagger. And as I bled out, staring up at the sky and impatiently waiting for the pain to vanish as my consciousness withdrew like low tide, I became aware that someone was lifting me, holding me, spiriting me through the battlefield and then the wilderness; and that my pain, in a disconcerting turn of events, had swelled to a vicious and unrelenting inferno.  

Three days later, I woke to find that I was resurrected again, this time as something more than human. The man who turned me was blond-haired, light-eyed, agile and yet gentle, ancient and yet ever-changing.

“I thought you’d survive,” Nikolai said in a thick Slavic accent, standing over me with a kind smile. Then he helped me to my feet. “You have greatness in you. It sweats out of your pores, it’s in every word you speak. What a shame it would be for all of that to go to waste.”

He taught me everything: how to read and write, how to hunt, how to dodge the sunlight, how to survive an existence that was both theoretically endless and yet forever on the precipice of being cut short. He introduced me to the Draghi, to vampires who were remarkable for their ferocity, or their creativity, or their curiosity, or their cleverness, or all those things at once: Victorien, Honora, Elizabeth, Kestrel, Zhang, Sergei, Ana, Gwilym. And most crucially, Nikolai showed me that my human talents were magnified several times over, that his own followers were not immune to them, that there was power in collecting exceptional individuals like pieces of china stacked in a locked cabinet; and that if I could learn to climb immortal bones, the ladder never needed to end.  

You never quite get used to the power, to the invincibility, to the promise of eternity. You never take it for granted. It hits you, again and again, in ceaseless and victorious waves. Once I was a barefoot toddler who sketched dragons and Catholic saints from the stories my mother told me into the dirt floor of our drafty stone cottage. Now I live in palaces with marble floors, with spiral staircases and libraries and gold-dripping ballrooms, with unobstructed views of any sea I choose. Now I am the dragon.

My phone rang, and I checked the name on the screen. Then I answered. “Hello, beauty. How’s the other side of the Pacific treating you?”

And Liesl answered, in a soft and astonished voice: “I don’t think Lucy can read her. I don’t think any of them can.”

I could feel it again. Another wave, crashing through me like the ocean, like the unstoppable rolling of time: power and insatiability and exhilaration. I smiled in my twilight-lit study as long-dead stars rose outside and the wind howled like wolves over the East Sea. “You know what to do.”

[probably-writing-x]

Unexpected.

Request by anon: Can i request for a peter parker story? where there's a new kid in school (the reader) and she has powers too but peter and ned don't know that. They all become close friends and soon peter and the reader become a thing

~~~

"Is this seat taken?" You ask quietly to the boy sat beside the only empty chair left in this class.

His head was quick to snap up from whatever he was busying himself with as the teen looked at you through science goggles propped on his nose, "No, no, go ahead,"

You smile politely though he doesn't see it as he is already turning back to whatever had previously trapped his attention. You set your books onto the table and wait in silence, tuning out of all of the conversations around you that felt overwhelmingly noisy. Today was your first day at this school, an act you'd grown very used to after moving around so much when you were younger. It was probably for the best as you'd quickly become the 'weird one' at any school you were at for too long. With your abrupt exits, lack of attendance and strange outbursts, your powers had jeopardised any attempt of a normal life. Something you sometimes questioned whether you would change.

When you first became a teen, you had quickly realised that something wasn't all that 'normal' with you. From the slightest things too. Like you'd know not to walk down the street that someone was going to get mugged on, minutes before it happened. Or you'd know not to walk into a shop that would soon become a victim of a knife crime. Small instincts told you not to. But then you realised you could stop it. You could channel yourself into preventing it and that's when you developed your web abilities, your agility and strength - when you became some sort of spiderwoman. And it was something you'd grown to develop over recent years, perfecting every aspect of your so-called 'powers'.

"Excuse me," The boy beside you pipes up and you whip your head out of your daze to look at him, "I think we're working together,"

You realised how little attention you'd been paying only now as you stared into the brown, innocence-soaked eyes that were focused on yours. He had all features of an unappreciated handsome boy.

"Oh, yeah, sure," You nod, looking at the chemical equipment that had been laid out in front of you - it looked like you'd be conducting some sort of titration.

"Okay so I don't know how much you know about this but-" The boy, who was yet to tell you his name, begun, "We need to put the acid in here," He explains as his hands hold the large burette with an evident knowledge of the topic.

"And we're using methyl orange I assume?" You nod, luckily having picked up quite a lot of knowledge from your countless schools, "Or do you think phenylalanine would be better? I guess it's dependent on which gives a better end point for the point of neutralisation, wouldn't you agree?"

The boy's eyes blink a few times at you with his mouth parted, evidently about to say the words you'd just said for him, "Yeah... Exactly,"

You break into a smile and hope it relaxes his tension just a little, "I'm (Y/n),"

"Peter," He mumbles, "Peter Parker,"

"Well, Peter, Peter Parker," You smirk, "What do you need me to do?"

He shakes himself from his daze, allowing the loose curls on his head to bounce back and forth a little, "Can you get the results table from my stuff please? I'll get the alkaline,"

You walk over to his side of the desk and go to pick up whatever results table he was talking about. Lifting up his textbook, you see a lined paper full of some sort of recipe, the title of 'Web fluid' making you widen your eyes abruptly.

"Oh, no, no," Peter is quickly at the side, taking the papers and books from you, "Not that," You can tell by the blush on his cheeks and the flustered tone in his words that you'd probably seen something you shouldn't have seen.

"I'm sorry I didn't mean to intrude," You assure him, "And I didn't see anything,"

Peter is still blushing ferociously but he seems a little more settled, "Just a stupid halloween costume idea, don't worry about it,"

His laugh is far too exasperated for his relaxation to be sincere.

You're about to create a level of mundane small talk, generally common for situations like this, when something else pecks at your senses. It starts with a little itch at the back of your ear, the sound magnified and drowning any swimming conversation. Then it moves to a twitch of your hand that you can only stop by gripping at the table. There's a clench in your jaw of slight irritation - you couldn't even get through your first lesson with some normality?

"I need to-" You start but have to stop yourself from continuing as your urge to leave overwhelmed you. Your feet get you out of that lab before Peter can question your actions any further.

You let your instincts lead you through the unknown corridors that you were yet to explore properly as you follow your own thoughts through each turning and step. Until you see it. The glimmer of a knife pressed against the throat of a young boy, far too young to be exposed to such objects beyond the safety of a kitchen. He isn't shaking nor showing any signs of being scared but it seems near impossible for him not to be. The villain holding such power was a girl of a few years older it seemed, perhaps in your own year. She had a threatening clench to her fists and a chilling ice cold to her heartless eyes.

"You fuck up one more time and I swear to god-" She hisses, her hand with the knife jolting a little closer to the child.

You were smart enough to not intervene and instead chose to use your own way of doing things - webs, webs and more webs.

You focused your aim, hand clenching into the perfect stance before the web shoots out, wrapping perfectly around the girl's hand and instantly pulling the knife away from the boy's neck. It is a relieving sight to see him hurry away, knowing he would deem it a perfectly timed miracle later on. You turned your head and hope to return to the class, only then to recognise the presence of Peter behind you - his mouth agape and his eyes widened, arms slack at the sides of his body.

"Wh-" You start, "I can explain," You raise your hands in hopes it would give him a peaceful reassurance.

"We definitely need to talk," He nods and you can't help but follow him reluctantly down the corridor to wherever he was taking you.

Peter leads you into the sports hall where all of the bleacher seating was set out in preparation for the regular assemblies that took place here. He silently walks up to one of the top benches and you sit down beside him. It is only then that he explodes.

"What was that? I mean, I know what you just did but how?" He exclaims, running a hand through his hair, "You're - you're like another spiderman?"

"Woman, actually," You respond with a smirk, "And, from what I saw on your desk earlier, I'm feeling like you're the other spiderman,"

"Wh-" He stops himself and looks at you, "How are there two of us?"

"I don't know," You shake your head, "But it seems pretty coincidental that we ended up at the same school,"

Peter laughs but you can tell he's trying to process all of this - maybe part of him was pretty relieved. It was good to not be the only teen doing this.

"Do you know Mr Stark?" Peter asks with evident purposeful inquisition, "I mean Tony... Do you know Tony Stark?"

The look of surprise on your face tells him you do but no other details can be said before crowds of students begin to pile into the hall for the assembly. One boy you hadn't seen before makes his way through the mass of bodies to reach Peter, taking the seat on the other side of him.

"Peter I've found a new Lego-" The boy begins with an overwhelming excite to his words.

The glare he receives from Peter complerely silences him.

"I don't think we've met," The boy steers conversation, "I'm Ned,"

"(Y/n)," You smile, instantly recognising how friendly the boy seemed.

"She's hot," You hear Ned hiss under his breath to Peter, "Go for it, man,"

Peter is quick to grow a bright blush to his cheeks before he clears his throat, "Do you know anybody else here, (Y/n)?"

"Nobody," You smile, unable to deny that he was pretty attractive.

"Then I guess you're staying with us," Ned beams, "Have you seen Star Wars?"

~~~

Thoughts on this becoming a series??

Tags: @imarypayne @sunshine112 @bringmethehorizonandpizza @supernatural-girl97 @vibhati123 @butithasntkilledyouyet @faefictions @carisi-sonny @trap-house-homiecide @shamelessbookaddict @tommydaspidey @oneblckcoffee

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The Electronic Liquid Handling System Market – Global industry Analysis, Size, Share, Growth, Trends and Forecast, 2021–2027 report provides analysis of the Electronic Liquid Handling System Market place for the period 2021–2027, where by 2021 to 2027 is that the forecast period and 2019 is taken into account because the base year. information for 2017 has been enclosed as historical info. The report covers all the trends and technologies that play a serious role within the growth of the Electronic Liquid Handling System Market throughout the forecast period. It highlights the drivers, restraints and opportunities expected to influence the Market’s enlargement throughout. The Electronic Liquid Handling System Market research report is highly stabilized and comprises of key players that have witnessed increased developments owing to the strategies & a favourable market scenario. The scrutinized data added within the report is widely employed by multiple industry manufacturers to determine their distribution channel and enhance the geographical reach. Major players are emphasizing on introducing a robust range of product portfolio which is successfully helping the organisations to maximise sales. The Electronic Liquid Handling System report incorporates further strategies which can help the customer in taking exceptional decisions. This report also provides recent mergers and acquisitions of those key players.

Key Players Mentioned in the Global Electronic Liquid Handling System Market Research Report: Danaher Corporation (U.S.), Thermo Fisher Scientific Inc. (U.S.), Eppendorf AG (Germany), Tecan Group Ltd. (Switzerland), Gardner Denver Medical (Germany), Mettler-Toledo International Inc. (U.S.), Hamilton Company (U.S.), PerkinElmer, Inc. (U.S.), Sartorius AG (Germany), Corning Incorporated (U.S.), Gilson, Inc. (U.S.), Agilent Technologies, Inc. (U.S.), Qiagen N.V. (Germany), Lonza Group Ltd (Switzerland), Brooks Automation, Inc. (U.S.), Integra Holding AG (Switzerland), Endress+Hauser AG (Switzerland), Labcyte Inc. (U.S.), BioTek Instruments, Inc. (U.S.)

>>> We Have Recent Updates of Electronic Liquid Handling System Market in Sample Copy:

A complete study on the growth of the Electronic Liquid Handling System market with respect to regions and countries is one of the critical and beneficial parts of this report. All these factors will help the reader to understand the overall market and to recognize the growth opportunities in the market. Electronic Liquid Handling System is the process of delivering Electronic Liquid Handling System analytical data on inventory levels, consumer demand, sales, and supply chain movement as they are important in the process of marketing, and making procurement decisions. Further section highlighting Electronic Liquid Handling System market dynamics that features the industry growth drivers, restraints, challenges, trends, and opportunities.

The study dives deep into the profiles of top market players and their key financials. This comprehensive report is not only for business analysts and any existing and new entrant can use it when designing their business strategies. The research is one of its kind global analyses of aspects such as import and export status, supply chain management, profit, and gross margin worldwide for the forecast period 2021-2027.

The report also highlights their financial status by assessing gross margin, profitability, production cost, pricing structure, expenses, Electronic Liquid Handling System sales volume, revenue, and growth rate. Their raw material sourcing strategies, organizational structure, corporate alliance, Electronic Liquid Handling System production volume, manufacturing base, sales areas, distribution network, global presence, product specifications, effective technologies, major vendors, and import-export activities are also emphasized in this report.

Global Electronic Liquid Handling System Market by Type: Microplate reagent dispensers, Liquid handling workstations, Burettes, Microplate washers, Others

Global Electronic Liquid Handling System Market by Application: Drug discovery, Genomics, Clinical diagnostics, Proteomics, Others

What benefits does report hive research study is going to provide?

– Latest industry influencing trends and development scenario – Open up New Markets – To Seize powerful market opportunities – Key decision in planning and to further expand market share – Identify Key Business Segments, Market proposition & Gap Analysis – Assisting in allocating marketing investments

Highlights of the Report:

• A detailed and exhaustive evaluation of the Electronic Liquid Handling System market. • Accrued revenues from each segment of the market from 2019 to 2027. • Drivers, restraints, and opportunities in the industry. • Approaches embraced by the key market players. • Provinces that would create multiple opportunities for the frontrunners in the industry. • Current scope and trends of the Electronic Liquid Handling System market.

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TOC Highlights:

Chapter 1. Introduction: The Electronic Liquid Handling System research work report covers a concise introduction to the global market. This segment provides assessments of key participants, a review of Electronic Liquid Handling System industry, outlook across key areas, financial services, and various difficulties faced by Electronic Liquid Handling System Market. This section depends on the Scope of the Study and Report Guidance.

Chapter 2. Outstanding Report Scope: This is the second most significant chapter, which covers market segmentation along with a definition of Electronic Liquid Handling System. It characterizes the whole scope of the Electronic Liquid Handling System report and the various features it is describing.

Chapter 3. Market Dynamics and Key Indicators: This chapter incorporates key elements focusing on drivers [Includes Globally Growing Electronic Liquid Handling System frequency and Increasing Investments in Electronic Liquid Handling System], Key Market Restraints[High Cost of Electronic Liquid Handling System], opportunities [Arising Markets in Developing Countries] and introduced in detail the arising trends [Consistent Innovate of New Screening Products] development difficulties, and influence factors shared in this latest report.

Chapter 4. Type Segments: This Electronic Liquid Handling System market report shows the market development for different kinds of products showcased by the most far-reaching organizations.

Chapter 5. Application Segments: The analysts who composed the report have completely assessed the market capability of key applications and perceived future freedoms.

Chapter 6. Geographic Analysis : Each provincial market is deliberately examined to understand its current and future development, improvement, and request situations for this market.

Chapter 7. Impact of COVID-19 Pandemic on Global Electronic Liquid Handling System Market: 7.1 North America: Insight On COVID-19 Impact Study 2021-2026 7.2 Europe: Serves Complete Insight On COVID-19 Impact Study 2021-2026 7.3 Asia-Pacific: Potential Impact of COVID-19 (2021-2026) 7.4 Rest of the World: Impact Assessment of COVID-19 Pandemic

Chapter 8. Manufacturing Profiles: The significant players in the Electronic Liquid Handling System market are definite in the report based on their market size, market served, products, applications, regional development, and other variables.

Chapter 9. Estimating Analysis: This chapter gives price point analysis by region and different forecasts.

Chapter 10. North America Electronic Liquid Handling System Market Analysis: This chapter includes an appraisal on Electronic Liquid Handling System product sales across major countries of the United States and Canada along with a detailed segmental viewpoint across these countries for the forecasted period 2021-2026.

Chapter 11. Latin America Electronic Liquid Handling System Market Analysis: Significant countries of Brazil, Chile, Peru, Argentina, and Mexico are assessed apropos to the appropriation of Electronic Liquid Handling System.

Chapter 12. Europe Electronic Liquid Handling System Market Analysis: Market Analysis of Electronic Liquid Handling System report remembers insights on supply-demand and sales revenue of Electronic Liquid Handling System across Germany, France, United Kingdom, Spain, BENELUX, Nordic, and Italy.

Chapter 13. Asia Pacific Excluding Japan (APEJ) Electronic Liquid Handling System Market Analysis: Countries of Greater China, ASEAN, India, and Australia & New Zealand are assessed, and sales evaluation of Electronic Liquid Handling System in these countries is covered.

Chapter 14. Middle East and Africa (MEA) Electronic Liquid Handling System Market Analysis: This chapter centers around Electronic Liquid Handling System market scenario across GCC countries, Israel, South Africa, and Turkey.

Chapter 15. Research Methodology The research procedure chapter includes the accompanying primary realities, 15.1 Coverage 15.2 Secondary Research 15.3 Primary Research

Chapter 16. Conclusion

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[pinktatertots99]

21 and honey and trois for the otp prompt please

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!! (omg this was longer than i thought it’d be ahaha. sorry if this feels ooc for anyone, it was the first thing that came to my mind.)

OTP Quotes Challenge

21. “okay, and how much money did you spend on that thing?”

sitting on the plush seat, bored out of his mind, honey sighed. there was nothing FUN to do today. trois had left earlier for something he didn’t say, he read all the magazines they had and wouldn’t get a new shipment of them for a couple of days, they weren’t invited to go anywhere…which, he totally didn’t care about, but in this state of boredom he wouldn’t mind doing ANYTHING even getting invited by that shitty gambler to play a round of pool.

suddenly he heard the familiar clacking of kiji’s heels and the door suddenly opened with him and trois in tow, and in his hands was a box. after his cellmate entered the door automatically closed and kiji walked off.

“so, you got another package?” he asked. trois nodded. “mmhmm”.

“hah, so is it anything from your parents?” trois flushed a shade of pink. “no.” “aw, too bad. I would’ve loved to see another rendition of you performing Shirley temple’s animal crackers.” he teased. the blush on trois’s face moved to his ears.

“hmph! be careful with your choice of words or you won’t get to see the surprise.” honey raised a brow. “surprise?” “mmhmm! and it’s in here.” he showed the box before turning to go to the bathroom. “what is it?”

trois smirked as he looked over his shoulder. “it wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you what it was.” he turned back and closed the bathroom door, with honey miffed having to wait.

after a couple of minutes the door opened and honey looked, and did a double take at his cellmate. he wore a white long sleeve button up with a plaid bow tied around it, a matching plaid skirt, white thigh highs, mary jane shoes, at the top of his head was a plaid burette and a broche on his shirt.

“you like it?” he asked, though the answer was obvious with how honey was staring at him, and the hand on his chest. “it’s-it’s nice.” he stuttered. that was a lie, it was FLAWLESS. the other obviously knew this and smiled. “I figured you’d like it.”

“yeah…but what’s the occasion?” he asked, standing up and walking to him. “well, it was on sale and I just thought it’d be nice to maybe have around, and maybe have some fun with it.~” his sentence sounded sensual and honey wasn’t surprised that he’d buy the outfit just for using it for a round of sex. which was definitely going to happen but now he had something else that caught his eyes.

“okay, and how much money did you spend on that thing?” he asked, pointing at the broche. it was gold colored and on it was turquoise gems in the shape of a “T” trois looked away. “why-why does it matter?” he hesitated. “trois, I know a commissioned piece of jewelry when I see it, now tell me how much.”

trois kept quiet for a while before leaning up and whispering in honey’s ear. “WHAT?!” he yelled, eyes wide and arrows coming out of his head.

“now don’t freak out-”

“DON’T FREAK OUT?! YOUR SUPPOSED TO SAY THAT BEFORE TELLING ME THE COST NOT AFTER! WHY DID YOU SPEND SO MUCH ON A BROCHE?!”

“w-well it was actually half of that price-”

“HALF?! wait half? than why-”

before he could ask trois’s hands that were behind his back came out and his palms opened to show a matching golden broche, but it had purple gems in the shape of an “H”. he stared at it, surprised. “the reason for the price is because I got two of them.” he confessed. he then moved forward to pin it on honey’s shirt. “just something I thought for our anniversary-”

“anniversary?” he asked aloud. trois looked up at him. “yes anniversary.” honey almost had a heart attack. this was their anniversa- wait. he sighed. “trois that’s not for three months.” trois looked up at him raising a brow. “what? oh! no, i know that.” “than why-” “THAT day is for when we first became a couple. TODAY is the day we first met.” honey paused. when they first met?

“remember, about 4 years ago today we met. i was walking down the street and got chased and trapped by the town goons. i almost could’ve been pummeled if you hadn’t come-” “-and fought them off with an old pipe.” honey finished, remembering that day. trois smiled. “oh good you DID remember. i was worried you got hit in the head so much you forgot.” “hey, that was a long time ago. and if I’m remembering right i only fought them because they were on my terf.”

“right, right that’s what you said.”

“it was the truth.”

“partly. but the look in your eyes when you saw me showed it wasn’t the whole truth now was it?”

“sh-shut up. it was so because of that.”

“well if it was then why were you okay with me taking you to my place to patch you up?”

damn his boyfriend and his ways. he decided to stop this conversation by wrapping his arms around the other and quickly moving his hands to go to his visible thighs and lift the skirt a bit, with trois yelping in surprise. “boo, no lingerie?” he asked, disappointed. “THAT will be for our date anniversary.” trois stated. honey grumbled, the tease. he then lifted trois up into his arms and walked to one of the beds there.

“i still can’t believe you’d go this far for when we first met. you’ll end up outdoing me at this rate.” he mumbled. if this is how he was gonna be for when they first met, now the idea of what’d he do for their date anniversary shook him. trois just giggled as he was being lowered onto the bed. “well i just thought you deserved this. after all, I’m internally grateful of you after that incident.” they looked each other in the eyes and it was obvious in trois’s eyes he was being sincere. he was actually serious about that. grateful their paths crossed and how it shaped them.

without warning honey leaned in and started unpinning trois’s broach. “honey-” “we don’t want these ruined.” he stated quickly. putting trois’s broach aside, away from the bed and went to take his own off. “after all if these break your gonna have hell getting them fixed.”

trois just stared at him then smiled. “hm, your right.” and with that both broaches were set aside next to each other as the two started making love. 

[siva3155]

300+ TOP ECONOMIC BOTANY Interview Questions and Answers

ECONOMIC BOTANY Interview Questions for freshers experienced :-

1. How does caffeine effect plant growth? Minerals like potassium are often found alongside caffeine when it occurs in plant sources like coffee beans, and that could help the plant grow faster. However, the caffeine itself would be unlikely to have any affect on the plant's rate of growth. I tested it and the plant grew at normal rate but the leaves were more wrinkly and browner 2. How do you determine if a molecule is polar or non-polar? A polar molecule is a molecule that has a net dipole moment due to its having unsymmetrical polar bonds. Two factors go into determining if a molecule is a polar. To determine if a molecule (or ion) is polar or non-polar, you must determine both factors. The polarity of the individual bonds in the molecule; The shape or geometry of the molecule 3. What is the difference between xylem and phloem? Both xylem and phloem are vascular tissues found in a plant. Xylem is a tubular structure, which is responsible for water transport from the roots towards all of the parts of the plant. Phloem is also a tubular structure, which, on the other hand, is responsible for the transportation of food and other nutrients needed by plant. 4. What is a burette and how is it used? A burette is a uniform-bore glass tube with fine gradations and a stopcock at the bottom, used especially in laboratory procedures for accurate fluid dispensing and measurement. The burette is commonly used in titrations to measure precisely how much liquid is used. A burette is simultaneously occupied by the presences of a liquid measuring and transferring this derailment. 5. What is a characteristic feature of acarrier protein in a plasma membrane? Carrier proteins are globular proteins which are specific it their action and thus regulate the entry and exit of particles into the cell. They help in the conduction of ionic substances and polar substances 6. What are living and nonliving reservoirs? Viruses are both living as well as non-living. They have reservoirs of genes. A single nucleotide is a unit of gene. Viral genes make use of host raw material (non-living elements/organic moieties/ water etc.,) including elements to synthesize organic molecules or macromolecules. Subsequently, viruses replicate themselves thereby reproduce within the living cells. On crystallization, they become non-living and can stay in this state for years until they enter again into a living host to multiply. Certain plant viruses are transmitted to the progeny through seeds. Viruses evolve as any other living being. Therefore, now virus names are written in italics like binomial/trinomial names similar to scientific name of any other living organism i.e. Tobacco mosaicvirus (read as italic). 7. What are analogies for centrioles? A Centriole is like a straw because they both are tubesthat let things get from one end to the other end. The centriole has a round look to it because it is made from nine triplets of microtubules that make a straw-like (as said above) look. 8. What is an analogy for a smooth endoplasmic reticulum? Endoplasmic reticulum (ER) is like a manufacturing plant, like a factory, where proteins and lipids are made. This is also where things are packaged into boxed and sent off to different places. In the cell the smooth ER is a network of membrane bound bodies which lack ribosomes (the molecules used in protein synthesis) and its primary function is to modify, encapsulate and transport newly synthesized proteins and lipids which will be secreted or remain in the cytoplasm as membrane bound vesicles. The smooth ER can also be compared to a highway, or a protein and lipid highway, if you will. It is sometimes called the transitional ER because it contains exit sites from which transport vesicles carrying these proteins and lipids bud off for transport to the Golgi apparatus. It is usually prominent in cells that specialize in lipidmetabolism and synthesis. 9. Why do organisms live in certain places? Think of that, the temperature difference in the desert is huge. So in order to survive, the cactus plant reduces heat gain and heat loss as well as water loss. (E.g. narrow pin shaped leaves, long extensive roots) 10. Who created the two-part naming system used in biology? The scientific naming system that is used worldwide today was first devised by Swedish naturalist Carl Linnaeus in 1737. He proposed a two-part naming system, which classifies every living organism with a string of Latin and Greek identifiers. Full names are devised starting with kingdom and extending downward through phylum, subphylum, class, order, family, genus and species. The two-part name, or binomial name, consists of the genus and species of the organism and used to prevent the confusion that may arise with common names.

ECONOMIC BOTANY Interview Questions 11. How does the odor of flower petals help pollination? The purpose of the perfume is to attract a pollinator - insect, bat, bird or whatever. The reward for the pollinator is a meal of nectar, which is produced by the flower. 12. What is an analogy for microtubules? Microtubules have two main functions in cells and in doing so act like a skeleton as well as like railroadtracks. Microtubules are the main structural component of the cytoskeleton in cells, which provides the cell with structure and rigidity and determines the shape of the cell. They also serve to transport vesicles and proteinswithin the cytoplasm through transport proteins called kinesins and dyneins, which act much like railroad cars. 13. What is an analogy for a smooth endoplasmic reticulum? Endoplasmic reticulum (ER) is like a manufacturing plant, like a factory, where proteins and lipids are made. This is also where things are packaged into boxed and sent off to different places. In the cell the smooth ER is a network of membrane bound bodies which lack ribosomes (the molecules used in protein synthesis) and its primary function is to modify, encapsulate and transport newly synthesized proteins and lipids which will be secreted or remain in the cytoplasm as membrane bound vesicles. The smooth ER can also be compared to a highway, or a protein and lipid highway, if you will. It is sometimes called the transitional ER because it contains exit sites from which transport vesicles carrying these proteins and lipids bud off for transport to the Golgi apparatus. It is usually prominent in cells that specialize in lipid metabolism and synthesis. 14. What is the difference between an acid and a base? Base is any thing, which has a capability to abstract a proton. Using the simplest definition, an acid is something when added to water releases hydrogen ions (H+), also called protons. A base, or an alkali, is something that when added to water releases hydroxide (OH-) ions. The strength of a basic (or alkaline) or acidic solution is measured using the pH scale. A pH of 7 is perfectly pure neutral water (neither acidic nor basic), and pH below 7 is acidic, and a pH above 7 is basic. There is another definition, which says that an acid releases H+ and a bases remove H+ from water. Thisdefinition is a bit more general than the first one above. Note that releasing OH- is the same as removing H+. This is because when OH- mixes with H+, they form neutral H2O, and so for every OH- released, one H+ is removed by combining them into water. The final definition of an acid and base is the most general, but the hardest to understand conceptually, and it is not always taught in high school because of this. According to this definition, acids are electron pair acceptors, and bases are electron pair donors. 15. Why does DNA twist? If it did not twist, would you expect it to fit into the miniscule cell? As we all know, if we join all of the DNA molecules from a person's body end to end, we would get length three times the distance from the center of the earth to the sun! Therefore, DNA does not have a choice but to follow the super solenoid structure. This is also aided by the purine-pyrimidine linkages, to balance the weight of DNA components. Why pressing down on the cover slip does not remove excess water. Because of Newton's Third Law of Motion: Every action has an equal an opposite reaction and hydraulic pressure. When you press down on the cover slip, the water underneath it pushes back against you with the same force that you are pressing down on it. If you want to get the water to moveout from under the cover slip, you need to direct it to the side. One way to do this is to lift an edge and break the suction, then set it back down on one edge first to let the water run out, then press it down. This creates a side motion so the water does not push straight up into the cover slip, but pushes at an angle, which allows it to run out. ECONOMIC BOTANY Questions and Answers pdf Download :: Read the full article

[microlitusa]

What is a Burette | Burette Reading | Pipette vs Burette

Burette is essential liquid handling product specially used in the Titration process for quantitative analysis in many industrial and lab testing. But, do you really know Burette completely? If No, check the Microlit E-burette product guide where you get about many factors like What is a Burette, Types and components, How to use a burette, different industrial applications, Error Calculations, What is Titration and What is the use of Burette in titration and much more. To access these best sources, visit the product guide for digital burette https://www.microlit.us/e-burette-product-guide/

[dbmronkar]

Global Liquid Handling Technology Market growing at a CAGR 9.35% to Estimated value $6.15 Billion Growth by 2026 with top Key players like Agilent Technologies, Aurora Biomed

Analysis of Global Liquid Handling Technology Market report:

Global liquid handling technology market is expected to rise from to an estimated value of USD 6.15 billion by 2026 registering a substantial CAGR of 9.35% in the forecast period of 2019-2026. This rise in the use of robotics including automated liquid handling, increased investments by pharmaceutical companies and rising demand for superior medical diagnostics.

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Definition:

Liquid handling technology is a technology that is used in laboratories in order to blend, mix, sample and combine liquids. High level of automation is adopted to ensure precision and quick liquid handling, and thus there in an introduction of robotics in liquid handling to include automated liquid handling technologies. They have an extensive application in genomics, drug discovery, cancer research, and other life sciences and are extensively used in medical laboratories and in the clinical diagnostics market.

Market Drivers

·        The adoption of robotics in the pharma industry, and the inclusion of automated liquid handling technology accelerates the demand for this market

·        Innovations and technological advancements improve performance and reduce errors

·        Rise in the number of investments by pharma companies in drug development drives the demand for this market

·        Increase in the number of research and development activities in the field of genetics, epigenetics and single cell analysis would lead to developments ad improvements in this market

·        Rise in the demand for high-throughput screening and superior medical diagnostics would boost the growth of this market

Market Restraints

·        High costs of liquid handling technologies hampers the growth of this market

·        High complexity and difficulty in operating the new liquid handling systems restrains the growth of the market

·        Lack of reliability on the operations of this technology hinders the growth of this market

Leading Key players profiled in this report are:

Few of the major market competitors currently working in the Liquid handling technology market are Agilent Technologies, Inc., Aurora Biomed Inc., Danaher., BioTek Instruments, Inc., Bio-Rad Laboratories, Inc., Analytik Jena AG, Corning Incorporated, Formulatrix., Hamilton Company., Hudson Robotics, LABCYTE INC., Lonza., PerkinElmer Inc, QIAGEN, Thermo Fisher Scientific Inc., Tecan Trading AG, Sartorius AG, METTLER TOLEDO., Gilson Incorporated. Eppendorf AG, AutoGen, Inc., OPENTRONS, Teledyne CETAC Technologies, Andrew Alliance., Analytik Jena AG, Beckman Coulter Life Sciences., Promega Corporation among others.

Global Liquid Handling Technology Market Segmentation:

By Product

·        Automated Workstations

·        Small Devices

·        Pipettes

·        Burettes

·        Dispensers

·        Others

·        Consumables

By Type

·        Automated Liquid Handling

·        Manual Liquid Handling

·        Semi-Automated Liquid Handling

By Application

·        Drug Discovery & ADME-Tox Research

·        Cancer & Genomic Research

·        Bioprocessing/Biotechnology

·        Others

By Technology

·        Valve Dispensing Technology

·        Syringe Solenoid Technology

·        Inkjet-Technology

·        Glass Capillary Technology

·        Automated Liquid Handling Technology

By End-User

·        Academic & Research Institutes

·        Medical/Forensics Laboratories

·        Pharmaceutical & Biotechnology Companies

·        Contract Research Organizations

·        Chemical Industries

·        Others

By Geography

·        North America

·        South America

·        Europe

·        Asia-Pacific

The Global Liquid Handling Technology Market report provides the global market size of the main players in each region. Moreover, the report provides knowledge of the leading markets players within the Global Liquid Handling Technology Market. The industry changing factors for the market segments are explored in this report.  This analysis report covers the growth factors of the worldwide market based on end-users. Market opportunities and recommendations for new investments are also encompassed in this report.

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Company Share Analysis:

Global liquid handling technology market is highly fragmented and the major players have used various strategies such as new product launches, expansions, agreements, joint ventures, partnerships, acquisitions, and others to increase their footprints in this market. The report includes market shares of Liquid handling technology market for global, Europe, North America, Asia-Pacific, South America and Middle East & Africa.

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[seriestrash]

The Story of Us

PROLOGUE || 1 || 2 || 3 || 4 || 5 || 6 || 7 || 8 || 

Chapter Nine: The Dance

Word Count: 4012

✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮

Friday evening the four boys that felt closer than the blood that was shared between three of them, got dressed in Lucas' room for the pending dance. The mood had been weird all day knowing that Riley's bus to the airport had departed whilst they were at school. 

Thomas was the first dressed. He lay in the middle of the floor throwing a baseball up in the air playing catch with himself, a trip hazard for those surrounding. The huffy twin claims that he was going with his usual 50% effort with his appearance because he didn't want his date thinking he was interested. Lucas gave Thomas a gentle kick as he passed, reminding his cousin that they had to be decent and respect their dates, even if neither of them actually wanted to go with them. Thomas lets out an exaggerated sigh and sits up, the teen struggles to cross his legs in the tight black jeans he wore, decorated with knees exposing rips. 

"I still can't believe Tris is taking Mabel to the dance." Thomas shoots a side glare to his brother whom is fixing his hair in the small mirror above Lucas' dresser. 

Tristan remains silent and rolls his eyes, the reflection of which Thomas catches in the mirror. 

"Hey, he's taking me to the dance too." Zay jokingly snaps. "Well, we're both taking her rather?" Zay seemed unsure of their actual dynamic for the evening. 

"Yeah but you're only going to the stupid dance to spy on Vanessa with Miles." Thomas less jokingly snaps back. Zay scrunches his nose up in disgust for the very implication. 

"I can't believe you're threatened by your gay twin brother taking Mabel to the dance." A strong hint of sarcasm present in Tristan voice. 

"I'm not threatened." Thomas gets defensive. "I just didn't know you were so friendly with her." 

"You mean the nice girl we've sat with for the past three weeks? Yeah, super hard to to imagine me taking a liking to her." Tristan turns around to face his brother. 

“I just find it strange that you’re going with her.” Thomas mumbles. 

“You’re either stubborn or an idiot.” Tristan exhales loudly.

“Both.” Lucas playfully taunts.

“Why?” Thomas asks his twin but directs his scold at Lucas. 

“I asked Mabel to the dance for you.” Tristan crosses his arms close to his chest. 

“That makes zero sense.” Thomas knits his brows. 

“Riley mentioned that Mabel was leaning towards not going so I thought it would be nice if I helped encourage her to come.” Tristan explains. 

“You’re a real hero.” Zay scoffs playfully. 

“I asked Mabel because I wanted her there, she’s my friend.” Tristan says proudly as he turns to Zay. “And I knew that Thomas was too chicken to ask her himself, so at least this way he benefits too, kinda...”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Thomas frowns. 

"Are we seriously still pretending that you don't like her?" Tristan groans.  

"You mean like Lucas is pretending that he doesn't like Riley?" Thomas shifts the attention.   

"Hey!" Lucas whines for being dragged into it. 

"Exactly like that." Tristan says firmly. 

"Hey!" Lucas whines agains, feeling ganged up on. 

Zay is on the verge of hysteric laughter. Oh how he's missed this times like these. 

"Come on Luke, you practically signed your own death certificate the moment Riley suggested you do another rodeo." Tristan shoots him an accusatory look. 

"It may have been her suggestion but she’s not the reason I agreed to go through with it." Lucas retorts. 

"When we spoke on the phone you called her the pretty brunette, dude." Zay highlights. 

"So?" Lucas gives his best friend a look. "I can't think a girl is pretty without having feelings for her? Vanessa's pretty, so is Mabel, real pretty actually. That doesn't mean I like them!" 

"Hey!" Zay and Thomas whine in unison. 

"I thought you two didn't care?" Tristan smirks. 

“I don’t.” Thomas folds his arms. 

“Maybe I care a little.” Zay shrugs. “But so does Lucas.” 

“Hey!” Lucas whines, again.

“The heart wants what the heart wants.” Zay moves over and sits by Lucas on the bed, slapping his back roughly. 

“Do I need to remind everyone that Riley went back to New York today?” Lucas sighs. “To surprise her boyfriend.” 

“Surprise?” Zay looks guilty. 

Lucas gives him a quizzical look but Zay just shuffles his position and continues, “None of that matters because I go back on Monday too.”

“That’s supposed to make me feel better?” Lucas squints one eye. 

“Well I’ll force my friendship on her, I’ll be enough Texas for everyone so she’ll never forget Hillford.” Zay grins goofily. 

“Yeah, I don’t like the sound of that.” Lucas grumbles. 

“Jealous.” Thomas coughs into his closed fist. 

“Yeah of f-friendship...” Lucas stutters realising immediately how ridiculous he sounds. 

“You’re all so immature,” Tristan sports another eye rolls. “Why can’t we just be honest with each other?” 

“Coming from the king of secrecy?” Thomas scoffs. “Don’t think we haven't noticed that you’ve been acting strange lately.” 

“Strange?” Tristan chuckles nervously. 

"Are you losers nearly ready?" Jacob playfully taunts from the doorway. No one in the room noticed his presence until he spoke nor knew how long he was there for. "If y'all don't leave soon your dates are going to think you stood them up..." 

The two with dates arranged by the bidding process leave in Cassidy’s car to meet the two cheerleaders whom got ready together whilst Zay takes the rental car with Tristan to Mabel’s house.

✮ ✮ ✮

Hours later, after the dance, Lucas walks alone in the brisk air, a guitar slung over his shoulder as he makes his way to the inn. The Texan climbs up the creaky steps and is surprised to see the door is open ajar. Lucas cautiously steps over the threshold and into the inn with his phone torch in hand. 

“Hello?” He calls into the eerie building. “Is somebody there?” 

“In here.” Her voice drifted from another room. 

“Riley?” Lucas knits his brows in confusion as he follows the direction of her voice. Lucas enters the room with the bay window and finds the burette sitting at the far end of the burnt out window with knees brought up close to her chest. 

“Hey.” She looks up at him with a soft smile.

"Don't mistake my confusion for disappointment, but, what are you doing here, Riley?" Lucas asks. 

“I needed a bay window.” Riley answers. 

“And your one in New York was occupied?” Lucas lets out the tiniest laugh. 

“No. My one in New York was in New York.” Riley huffs. 

“Okay...” Lucas sits on the floor by the other end of the bay window seat. “Care to tell me why New York is the enemy all the sudden?” 

Riley remains quiet and lowers her gaze to the floor. 

"Hey," Lucas says softly as he shuffles a few inches closer to her. "Remember that whole trust thing we've had going on lately?" 

Another quiet moment passes before Riley finally speaks, but even then her gaze remains pointed to the ground. "I got to the airport today and I was sitting outside my gate waiting to board when my phone rang. I got excited thinking it would be Maya, she'd called me six times already expressing excitement about my return..." Riley wears half a smile. "It wasn't. It was Charlie." Riley paused almost expecting a reaction from Lucas, which he remained neutral. Riley continues, "Somehow one of his friends found out I was coming back and told him so Charlie called me to ask if it was true. He seemed kinda mad about it. Or annoyed that I didn't tell him... I asked why because I thought he’d be excited and then he told me he already asked someone else to the dance.” 

“Are you serious?” Lucas frowns. 

Riley gives him a slight nod. “So naturally I asked him why and he told me that these past three weeks have really helped clear things up for him. He told me that I wasn’t the girl he had a crush on in middle school anymore and that he held onto the idea of me for so long it clouded his ability to realise that we just didn’t work. So we broke up and then I called Maya after and I told her everything and I said that I didn’t know what to do, that I was embarrassed to come home and she got angry at me. She said, ‘who cares about Charlie Gardner when the real reason you’re coming home i s for me?’ and then we started fighting and Maya told me that I’ve changed and maybe I shouldn’t bother coming back at all. Then the airline called for passengers to board my flight and even though I knew Maya didn’t mean it, I just walked away and didn’t get on the plane.”

“Whoa.” Is all Lucas can say. 

"And to complete the trifecta of uplifting phone calls I had, there was the one with my mom and all I wanted was for her to make me feel like things were going to be okay but instead I got yelled at.” Riley says weakly. “Charlie, Maya, my parents, they all have opinions on who I was or who I am and I just don’t know why I’m trying so hard to hold onto a life that clearly doesn’t even want me anymore.”

“Whatever his reasons were, it’s still a sucky thing to do... Ask someone else to the dance..” Lucas furrows his brows. “I’m really sorry.” 

“Don’t be.” Riley says simply. “I mean once I got over the initial shock of it all I realised that I was relieved. I know that sounds horrible but maybe I only liked the idea of Charlie too..” 

Suddenly, ‘he ticks all the boxes’ came to Lucas’ mind but he doesn’t say anything.

“I grew up with the textbook definition of soul mates for parents. I think that I just conditioned myself to believe that love isn’t like that for everyone.” Riley speaks and theres a hint of sadness in her voice. “Or at least not for me... I’ve known Charlie since I was young, he was always so nice, very gentlemanly, perfect boyfriend material... Dating him felt like a safe version of love.. If you could call it love. I thought that maybe my new attitude was what made us feel off but I think it was just not the right fit.”

“You say you’re okay but you still seem sad?” Lucas lightly presses. 

“I’m sad that I’m not sad.” Riley shares a weak laugh at the silliness. “Love is supposed to be epic right? The stable boy and the ballerina..” 

"Two souls finding each other a long way from home." Lucas adds. "Maybe without the heartbreak." He softens.

"Yeah but even then..." Riley finds Lucas' stare, "...at least I'd know it was real, epic."

Lucas nods lightly to show he understood what she meant.

“Do you think you’ll wake up tomorrow morning and regret not leaving for New York?” Lucas asks. 

“Maybe..” Riley admits. “But maybe what I want and what I need are two different things.” 

“How do you mean?” Lucas asks for clarification. 

She sighs heavily. “Do you know why I got suspended in New York?” Riley doesn’t wait for an answer. “Maya did this painting in art class that was honestly amazing and the teacher fell in love with it. He made a really big deal about it and urged Maya to showcase it in the schools open day which she wasn’t too interested in doing but then the teacher emailed her mom saying he hadn’t received the permission slip back so Katy gave him the okay to do it. When Maya found out, she wasn’t really happy about it and she convinced me to ‘borrow’ my dads keys to the school so we could take the painting before the showcase... She said it wasn’t stealing because the painting was hers. So late at night, once the school was locked up, we broke in... Maya found her painting but as we were leaving I accidentally knocked over a shelf of paints and it went all over peoples artworks... The following day the principal found the mess and traced it back to me because my dads keycard registered in the system but Maya couldn’t really afford to get in anymore trouble so I said I was alone...” 

“You were trying to protect her.” Lucas nods, he’d been there before. 

“Yeah but that’s not the point.” Riley shakes her head. “I was only in that situation because I accepted that Maya didn’t want to show off her talent. I encouraged her to hide it, I helped.” Riley looks at Lucas as she stresses each statement. “That’s who I am in New York. I’m someone who pretends to get bad grades.. I help Maya do bad things and I use the excuse that it’s for friendship.. That’s not friendship... Three years ago I would have hung her painting on my wall and I would have bought her paintbrushes for christmas... I am a fake in New York... I thought being Maya was the best thing I could be. I shouldn’t have tried to copy her fierceness, I should have let it inspire my own.” Riley says. “That’s how friendship works.” 

“If you keep this in mind when you really do go back to New York I think you’re going to be okay.” Lucas says encouragingly. 

“Maybe..” Riley shrugs. “But I don’t think I’m ready yet. I mean, does anyone ever really know who they are?” Riley asks not expecting an answer. “I don’t, I just know that I like who I am when I’m with you.” 

Lucas smiles like he’s just heard the nicest thing in the world. 

“Enough of the heavy stuff..” Riley laughs nervously. “How was the dance?” 

“Well, Zay was his usual piny self for Vanessa. Worried about her and Miles all night. Tristan kept Mabel company while Addison didn’t let Thomas out of her sight all night... Then the dance wrapped up and I walked Mabel home because she was very adamant on not attending the after party and then I came here.”

“That’s very sweet of you to escort her home.” Riley says with a small smile, a small wave of excitement hit her at the idea of hanging about with the shy girl again. 

Lucas shrugs a shoulder like it was no big deal. “I’m sure Thomas would have liked to have done it but Addison insisted that his duty as her date continued into the after party.” 

Riley lets out a small laugh. “What about you, did your date get her ninety-eight dollars worth?” 

“She got pictures and a few awkward dances out of me,” Lucas chuckles, “Then her dad picked her up after the dance so I was off the hook.” 

“Sounds like fun, sorry I missed it.” Riley says half seriously. 

“Yeah me too.” Lucas is quiet. 

 “So what’s this?” She leans forward and pulls the guitar into her lap. 

“That would be a guitar.” Lucas says playfully. 

“Wow,” Riley chuckles through the word. “Thanks for clearing that up.” 

“You’re welcome.” Lucas says quietly. 

“So is this like your thing?” Riley pricks up a brow. 

“My thing?” Lucas matches her raised eyebrow. 

“You know, broody cowboy, tortured musician?” Riley fiddles with the instrument in her lap. “Or is it just a prop for the ladies?” 

“A prop?” Lucas shows a look of mock offence. 

“To make the ladies swoon.” Riley sways her shoulders about. “What’s your go to tune?” 

“You could not be more wrong.” Lucas chuckles. 

“Fine, if you wont tell me I’ll just have to guess.” Riley closes her eyes for a moment in thought. Riley clears her throat dramatically and strums the guitar before more strategically placing her fingers into position. “So you, a girl and a twinkly sky.” Riley sets the scene before playing her first guess. “'Cause you're a sky, 'cause you're a sky full of stars...” Riley abandons the song quite quickly. “Nope that doesn’t feel right.” 

Lucas watches on with a coaxed head, amused to see where this was going and how long for. 

“Ooo I know.” Riley says excitedly, “Something a little more fun?” Riley repositions herself before strumming again, “Well you done done me and you bet I felt it, I tried to be chill but you're so hot I melted, I fell right through the cracks and now I'm trying to get back. Before the cool done run out I'll be giving it my best-est and nothing's going to stop me but divine intervention. I reckon it's again my turn, to win some or learn some. But I won't hesitate no more, no more, it cannot wait, I'm yours....” Riley sung goofily, her voice bouncing through the lyrics before strumming one last time dramatically and waving her hand in the air for her finale. 

Lucas raises his hands and claps them loudly with a laugh. 

“Thank you, thank you!” Riley giggles. She lets her laughter fade out, a small smile remains as she finds Lucas’ eyes. “No, you show them your softer side, something more romantic, don’t you, Lukey?”

Lucas ‘bleh’s’ at the pet name and Riley raises her index finger to her mouth and playfully shushes him before returning her focus to the strings. The brunette begins to pluck them softly and closes her eyes for the first line, really immersing herself in the lyrics, “Wise men say, only fools rush in..”  

Lucas snaps his head up in awe the moment Riley sings the first word. She had been playing around before but something about approach to this particual song was so pretty. Lucas was captivated. 

"But I can't help falling in love with you.” Riley continues. “Shall I stay, would it be a sin, if I can't help falling in love with you? Like a river flows surely to the sea, darling so it goes, some things are meant to be. Take my hand, take my whole life too, for I can't help falling in love with you..”   

Riley stops, opens her eyes and immediately grew anxious under Lucas’ stare. “It sounds better with a piano..” Riley’s nerves seep into her laughter. 

“My grandma used to love that song.” Lucas says softly. 

Riley’s smile creeps wider and the two teens were just looking at each other with goofy faces. Riley’s the first to break she pulls the guitar off her lap and fakes a cough to break the silence, “So that’s the song, right?” 

“The guitar is Tommy’s.” Lucas says with a small smirk. “I confiscated it off him before he went to the party after the dance. The last time he was drunk he smashed his guitar like a ‘true rockstar’.” 

“So you let me go on like that for nothing?” Riley’s glare proves to be weak with her smile. 

“I just wanted to see how long you’d go on for,” Lucas grins. 

The two end up just looking at each other again, like neither of them noticed when the room fell silent. An obvious moment between them. Again Riley breaks first, “I think I should get going and you should get a decent sleep before the rodeo.” 

“Right, yeah.” Lucas matches her bumbling speech and the two stand. “So does this mean you’re coming tomorrow?” 

“Well, I mean, yeah..” Riley laughs, “That’s alright isn’t it?” 

“Yeah. Totally fine.” Lucas smiles. 

He and Riley walk back together. The two stand at the edge of Jed’s porch as they wish each other a goodnight. Lucas notices Riley stare past him, he turns to follow her line of sight and sighs heavily when he spots three familiar faces stumbling towards his front door. 

“Need any help?” Riley offers. 

“Thanks, but I’ve got this.” Lucas wears half a smile. “Years of experience.” 

The two break and Lucas rounds up his loud friends in the street and ushers them through his front door and up the stairs to his room. None of them even attempted to be stealth, stumbling over each other with loud chuckles. Cassidy surfaces from her room after waking to the commotion. A disapproving look is pointed Lucas’ way as the other three pile into his room

“I didn’t even go to the party.” Lucas tries to defend himself. “I was with Riley, completely sober.”

“Riley?” Cassidy pricks up a brow. “I thought she left this morning.”

“It’s a long story.” Lucas rubs at the crook of his neck. “But she didn’t end up going back.”

“Is she alright?” Cassidy asks, concern present in her tone.

“I think so.” Lucas nods lightly.

“Okay.” Cassidy says softly. “Make sure those three fools drink water before passing out and you should get some sleep. I don’t want you riding this darn bull tired.”

“Thanks Mamma,” Lucas says with a small smile and returns to the drunken teens in his room.

“Did I just hear you say you were with Riley?” Thomas gawks once Lucas enters.

“You just saw me with Riley.” Lucas laughs.

“Right, that’s right!” Thomas laughs too. “Rileyyyyyyy, eh?” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

“I’m going to get some water bottles from downstairs. Everyone just be quiet.” Lucas dodges the subject.

The blonde boy does just as he said and returns with the items. Lucas passes each of them a water bottle hoping to sober everyone up before bed. Thomas was already curled up on the beanbag by the bed whilst Tristan and Zay squeezed themselves into Lucas’ bed together. Lucas takes a moment to look at them all, each wearing innocent little smirks.

“I guess I’m sleeping on the sofa downstairs then, huh?” Lucas places his hand on his hips.

“You’re such a good friend.” Zay coos.

“The best.” Lucas chuckles, he kicks off his shoes turns off the light on his way downstairs. 

Lucas flops down on the sofa and pulls a spare blanket over himself. The Texan exhales loudly as he stares at the ceiling thinking about the evening that just was. Rustling followed by the creek of the stairs sees Lucas sit up and look over the back of the sofa. He spots Thomas coming down, lugging the beanbag with him. 

Thomas sleepily dumps it on the floor and snuggles up again with a smile pointed at Lucas. 

“Hey buddy,” Lucas says, wondering what brought on his cousins desire to switch rooms. 

“I lied earlier.” Thomas sighs. “I do like Mabel.” 

“Me too.” Lucas says. 

“What?” Thomas frowns. 

“I meant me too I lied not me too I like Mabel.” Lucas says quickly. 

“Oh good.” Thomas looks relieved. “So you like Riley?”

“Yep.” Lucas says simply. 

“Please explain why Riley’s here and not in New York?” Thomas asks. 

“She broke up with her boyfriend, or he broke up with her... I’m not sure but they broke up.” Lucas explains. 

“Wow.” Thomas says with little emotion in his voice. 

“Yeah, she decided to stay here for a while..” Lucas says. 

“It could have been the large amount of alcohol I consumed but when we arrived she looked pretty happy to be with you..” Thomas says. “Do you think there’s anything like there between you?” 

“I don’t know..” Lucas is dismissive. 

“Come on, Luke?” Thomas presses. 

“Maybe,” Lucas gives in quickly. “I could have imagined it but I think there was maybe this moment..” 

“A moment?” Thomas asks excitedly. “Did you kiss her?” 

“No!” Lucas says quickly. “She just ended a relationship.”

“But did you want to kiss her?” Thomas questions.

“No.. Maybe.. I don’t know.” Lucas shakes his head. 

“Do you think Mabel could like me back?” Thomas asks. 

“You could always speak to her tomorrow about how you feel and find out.” Lucas eyes his sleepy cousin. 

“Yeah... and you can talk to Riley too..” Thomas says with heavy lids, “Presuming you don’t die riding Tombstone first.” 

“Thanks for the pep talk, Tommy.” Lucas lets out a deflated laugh but Thomas was already asleep. 

End Notes: At least this update comes a week after the last and not two weeks after!! Sorry it still took a while!

A skam inspired scene, can you believe???? The songs were all also chosen by you guys a while back! Mostly anons so I cant really shootout everyone individually but woooo 

Single Riley!! 

Next Chapter: The rodeo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!          

[super-alan-3-us-blog]

Student Exploration: Titration

Vocabulary: acid, analyte, base, dissociate, equivalence point, indicator, litmus paper, molarity, neutralize, pH, strong acid, strong base, titrant, titration, titration curve, weak acid, weak base

Prior Knowledge Questions (Do these BEFORE using the Gizmo.)

There are several definitions of acids and bases. According to the Brønsted-Lowry definition, an acid is a substance that is capable of donating a proton to another substance. A base is a substance that accepts protons. When an acid and a base are combined, the acid is neutralized as the base accepts the protons produced by the acid.

One way to determine if a solution is acidic or basic is to use litmus paper, as shown above. There are two types of litmus papers: red and blue.

How does litmus paper indicate an acid?

How does litmus paper indicate a neutral substance?

How does litmus paper indicate a base?

Gizmo Warm-up

Litmus is an example of an indicator, a substance that changes color depending on its pH(pH is a measure of the concentration of protons, or H+ ions). In the Titration Gizmo™, you will use indicators to show how acids are neutralized by bases, and vice versa.

To begin, check that 1.00 M NaOH is selected for the Burette, Mystery HBr is selected for theFlask, and Bromthymol blue is selected for the Indicator.

1. Look at the flask. What is the color of the bromthymol blue indicator?

2.What does this tell you about the pH of the solution in the flask?

3.Move the slider on the burette to the top to add about 25 mL of NaOH to the flask. What happens, and what does this tell you about the pH of the flask?  

Introduction: When most acids dissolve in water, they dissociate into ions. For example, nitric acid (HNO3) dissociates into H+ and NO3– ions.

Question: How do acids and bases interact in solution?

1.Calculate: Concentration is measured by molarity (M), or moles per liter. Brackets are also used to symbolize molarity. For example, if 0.6 moles of HNO3 are dissolved in a liter of water, you would say [HNO3] = 0.6 M.

A. Because HNO3 is a strong acid, it dissociates almost completely in water. That means the concentration of H+ is very nearly equal to that of HNO3. What is [H+] if [HNO3] is 0.01 M?

B. The pH of a solution is equal to the negative log of H+ concentration: pH = –log[H+] What is the pH of this solution? (Use the “log” button on your calculator.)

C.What is the pH of a 0.6 M HNO3 solution

2.Describe: The equation for the reaction of nitric acid (HNO3) and sodium hydroxide (NaOH) is shown on the bottom right of the Gizmo

A.What are the reactants in this reaction

B.What are the products of this reaction

3.Measure: A titration can be used to determine the concentration of an acid or base by measuring the amount of a solution with a known concentration, called the titrant, that reacts completely with a solution of unknown concentration, called the analyte. The point at which this occurs is called the equivalence point.

Carefully add HNO3 into the flask until the phenolphthalein begins to lose its color. Stop adding HNO3 when the color change is permanent.

A.How much (HNO3) was required to cause the indicator to change color?

B.What can you say about the pH before and after the last drop of HNO3 was added?

4.Explore: Click Reset and change the indicator to Bromthymol blue. Add exactly 8.9 mL of HNO3 to the flask.

A.What does the color of the indicator tell you about the current pH of the flask?

B.Add one more drop of HNO3. What does the color tell you about the pH now?

C.If you combine the results of this question with the results from question 3B, what do you know about the total pH change caused by adding the last 0.1 mL of HNO3?

5.Apply: Water has a pH of 7. If 0.1 mL (about one drop) of 1.0 M HNO3 is added to 100 mL of water, the result is a solution with a concentration of 0.001 M HNO3.

A.What is the pH of 0.001 M HNO3?

B.How much did one drop of HNO3 cause the pH of water to change?

C.How does this relate to what you determined in question 4C?

6.Explain: A titration curve is a graph of pH vs. volume of titrant. The graph at right shows a typical titration curve for the titration of a strong acid by a strong base. (A strong base is one that has relatively high dissociation in water.)

A.How would you describe the shape of the titration curve

B.Why do you think the titration curve has the shape it has?

Introduction: Adding a drop of strong acid or base into a neutralized solution is similar to adding a drop of strong acid or base to water—it causes an abrupt change in pH. By using an appropriate indicator, a chemist can tell when a solution is neutralized by monitoring its color.

Question: How is titration used to determine an unknown concentration?

1. Measure: Titrate the sulfuric acid analyte (H2SO4) with the sodium hydroxide titrant (NaOH). How much 1.00 M NaOH is needed to neutralize the H2SO4 solution

2. Interpret: The balanced equation for the reaction of HBr and NaOH is given at bottom right. Based on this equation, how many moles of NaOH react with 1 mole of H2SO4

3. Manipulate: Recall that molarity is equal to the number of moles of a substance dissolved in one liter of solution: molarity = moles ÷ volume.

A. Write an equation for determining the number of moles of NaOH that are added to the flask based on [NaOH] and volume of NaOH titrant (mL NaOH):

B.Write a similar expression for the number of moles of H2SO4 in the flask based on [H2SO4] and the volume of H2SO4 (mL).

C.Because there are twice as many moles of NaOH as moles of H2SO4 in this reaction, you can say:

D.Now you can calculate [H2SO4] based on the data from the Gizmo: [H2SO4]

4. Calculate: Select the Worksheet tab. This tab helps you calculate the analyte concentration. • Fill in the first set of boxes (“moles H2SO4” and “moles NaOH”) based on the coefficients in the balanced equation. (If there is no coefficient, the value is 1.) • Record the appropriate volumes in the “mL NaOH” and “mL H2SO4” boxes. • Record the concentration of the titrant in the M NaOH box.

Click Calculate. What is the concentration listed?

Click Check. Is this the correct concentration?

If you get an error message, revise your work until you get a correct value. (You may have to redo the titration if you do not have the correct volume of titrant.)

5.Practice: Perform the following titrations and determine the concentrations of the following solutions. In each experiment, list the volume of titrant needed to neutralize the analyte and the indicator used. Use the Worksheet tab of the Gizmo to calculate each analyte concentration. Include all units.

6.Apply: Once you know the concentration of a strong acid or a strong base, you can estimate its pH. Use pH = –log10[H+] to calculate the pH of each of the strong acid mystery solutions (Mystery HBr and Mystery H2SO4) based on the concentrations you determined in questions 4 and 5. Check your answers with the Gizmo. (Because dissociation is not always complete, your answers may vary slightly from values in the Gizmo.)

7.Apply: For a strong base, the concentration of hydroxide ions [OH–] is roughly estimated to be the same as the concentration of the base. The pH of a strong base is found with the equation pH = 14 + log10[OH–]. Based on their concentrations, find the pH of each of the strong bases. Check your answers with the Gizmo.