#transfer pipette

[valeechtine]

Water changes can be a form of meditation I think

[labmatesblog]

Transfer Pipette

Transfer pipettes are made with the safety advantages of plastic and the accuracy of a glass pipette. reduces expenses by avoiding the disposal of "sharps" .for more visit www.labmate.com

[shhtickerbook]

Burnt Sugar

Wonka agere one shot fic! for all those asking for more CG! lofty content. This was very self indulgent and comforting for me heh. As always A03 link below or just read under cut!

-

Willy Wonka was sitting at his workbench, his chocolate making case taking up the whole table. A line of multicoloured corked bottles sitting on a shelf beside, each labelled with a symbol. (it was much easier than reading small lettering)

With extreme care he used a pipette to sample out just a few drops of liquid sunlight, dropping it into the glass spiral condenser. The amber bead travelling down the clear corkscrew before it made contact into a heated flask filled with a light blue serum. It was supposed to turn an aqua hue, but instead it became more of a mint green. Willy frowned in annoyance, tapping the glass gently to try and encourage it to mix further. Stubbornly it remained the same, it didn’t make sense, he was sure his measurements were correct. Biting in his lower lip as his foot shook up and down as he concentrated.

Very carefully again, he transferred one more drop of the golden liquid through the pipette. But squeezed the dropper a little too hard with his shaking hands, Willy cursing under his breath. He was exhausted to say the least, the past few days had been filled with constant recipe revisions and experiments. This batch was to be of his new idea! Mood lollipops, the idea was that with each lick the candy would change hue and flavour to match your mood. But the mechanics of it were proving to be insanely complex. Scattered papers and sketches of blueprints and experiments littered all around the tabletop and room.

With the excess force added to the dropper, far more than what he wanted poured into the mix. The aqua base quickly turned bright, almost neon green, not before it began to bubble worryingly.

“Nonono-“

Wonka muttered, pulling at his hair anxiously. Quickly he scrambled through his case in search of an ingredient to try and balance out the PH of the elixir. Just managing to find something that could work, but by the time he had turned around the solution was boiling furiously, a foam starting to build and ride up through the glass tubing. Willy didn’t know what to do, he was about to lose hours of work. He pressed his thumb against the neck of the tube, but the green candy mixture rose up to meet his skin, which was burning hot.

“Owwwch!”

He yelped as he removed his hand, the molten sugar having burned a small circle onto his thumb. Sucking on it hard to try and relieve the pain, having to watch in defeat as his hours of work pumped out of the tubing, emerald foam spilling out across his desk. Molten candy mixture spreading over everything, his plans and other important equipment.

Wonka’s face screwed up, clenched hands shaking in frustration. All that work for nothing, the experiments and a complete waste of expensive ingredients, all for him to mess it up and ruin all of it. It wasn’t often Willy got angry, it just wasn’t the kind of person he was. But this was too much, frustration bubbling over just like the melted candy had. In one sweep he attacked his work station, the spiral conductor being thrown from the table and smashing into splinters against the floor. Thick molten candy also exploding into his wall and floor, fusing itself to the surface. Willy scared himself with the noise, flinching away in alarm. He hadn’t meant to destroy it, instantly regretting his decision. The glass spiral now lying in three pieces across the floor.

Said conductor was one of his first pieces of equipment he got, it was whilst he was travelling through Germany in search of ingredients. He’d been feeling under the weather and visited a local chemist, who then introduced him to his laboratory equipment. A world of beakers, flasks, and more. Upon discussion he had the idea of using the them to expand his chocolate making. The old man sold him that conductor for half the usual price, as well as the exchange of a few chocolates of course.

Willy stood in silence as he stared at what he’d done. The smell of burning sugar filling the room horribly. The realisation of what he’d done only made him feel even worse, holding the back of his chair before kicking it over. He didn’t care anymore. Mood lollipops were a stupid idea anyways, he tried to reassure himself. He stepped back before falling to floor, biting hard on his lip. Childish tears threatening to fall, but he squeezed his eyes shut tight to keep them at bay.

He was so caught up in his misery that he didn’t notice the door creaking open, the sound of very small boots entering. Followed by a shocked exclaim in a pertinent voice.

“Willy Wonka what on EARTH has happened in here.”

The Oompa Loompa had heard such commotion from the workshop, having to come investigate. He wasn’t expecting to see such carnage inside, glass and melted sugar everywhere. Putting down a teacup he had in hand, he carefully stepped over broken glass as he looked around in horror at the mess. Willy groaned at the arrival of Lofty, his head buried in his hands. It was the last person he wanted to be around right now.

“Go-way”

He mumbled miserably, he didn’t have the brain to deal with Loftys judgment. But he wasn’t going to get out of it that easily, especially not from Lofty of all people.

“Not a chance, look at the mess you’ve made in here? Why there’s melted sugar stuck to the ceiling of all places!”

He looked up in horror, kicking away pieces of glass as he approached the chocolatier. Who was curled up on himself in complete defeat. Even Lofty realised that he was clearly feeling quite woeful right now, sighing sympathetically.

“Nevermind, we can deal with all this later. Out you get before you break anything else”

The Oompa Loompa barked out the order as he pinched his brow, tugging at Wonkas sleeve. He knew that Willy had been working himself too hard over the last couple days, and was clearly in need of some TLC. But yet again he was ignored, which he didn’t appreciate in the slightest. Placing two hands on his hips he spoke again, more firmly.

“Willy Wonka you are to get up immediately, you’ve been working yourself silly and this nonsense is clearly a direct result of it.”

He gestured again to the mess, Willy lifting his head to look at it apprehensively. It somehow looked even worse, and the state of his favourite conductor broken on the floor just upset him further.

“Leave me ‘lone”

He murmured wearily, glaring at the Oompa Loompa. Who just returned the expression with a glare, meaning business. From the tone of his voice, Lofty began to suspect the boys current state of mind. His tone of voice and body language giving it away.

“I’m not going anywhere, now. OUT.”

His voice rising sternly, Willy jumping at the noise. Before glaring hard and standing to his feet, towering over Lofty as he snarled.

“FINE!”

Wonka yelled back, stomping his way out of room. Nearly bowling the Oompa Loompa right over. Whilst leaving, his boot collided with the last remaining spiral of his conductor. Splintering entirely underneath his shoe, he paused for a moment before continuing outside. Willy felt as if his body was filled with boiling oil, ready to explode just like his chemistry supplies. He marched through his flat, not even sure what to do with himself. He felt overwhelmed, tired, frustrated and any other possible word for just plain horrible! It didn’t help when the set of small footsteps followed behind him curtly.

“Careful! You’re going to track glass throughout the house with that stomping.”

Lofty commented, but it only further aggravated Wonkas mood. His pretentious tone of voice feeling like nails on a chalkboard to his already sour mood. Turning around suddenly as he stopped him in his tracks, Lofty looking up cool as ever with his teacup back in hand.

“Oh don’t you ever SHUT UP!”

Willy threw out his arm, accidently hitting the teacup from Loftys hand. It smashed against the door frame before exploding into ceramic shards.

-

There was a terrible long silence for a moment, once again Willy highly regretting what he’d just done in a temper. Lofty looked at the remains on the floor as his took a breath in, trying to keep his own composure. It was one of his cups from Loompa Land, he had a few others, but it was still a sentimental item from his home. The clay itself collected from the river that ran through the island, before being fired in a uniquely designed Loompa kiln. It was a lengthy process, but the island produced some of the most beautiful ceramic.

He looked right up, making eye contact with the chocolatier. His face was unnervingly neutral in expression, that’s when Willy realised just how big a trouble he was in. Lofty lifted a hand and motioned for Willy to lean down, remaining his stone cold expression.

“Whilst I can understand that you’re feeling upset, that wasn’t acceptable behaviour.”

His tone was slightly different, extremely serious but still gentle. As if someone slowly poured a glass of icy cold water down the back of his shirt. Willy felt his sleeve being pulled, before being taken by surprise as Lofty briskly lead him away. He had to hunch over due to his tiny stature, and tried to pull away. Somehow Lofty’s grip was incredibly strong regardless of his size.

“What are you doing? Let go of me!”

Willy had meant for his tone to come off commanding, but it came out instead as pathetic and whiny. Giving the exact opposite impression he wanted to convey.

“If you are so intent on behaving like a child, then you are going to be treated as such.”

Lofty continued as he led the man into the sitting room, pointing towards the corner where a circular woven rug sat. Willy looking in complete bewilderment, wondering what in the world Lofty was playing at.

“Sit. There. Ten minutes”

Willy frowned in confusion before chuckling in utter disbelief. Once again trying to jerk away from the iron grip on his sleeve.

“You’ve got to be joking me-“

“Oh I certainly am not. If you are choosing to act out like this then you’re going to be treated accordingly.”

He stated, no longer willing to tolerate this misbehaviour. He was well aware that Wonka had times in which he felt younger than his physical age, and all this behaviour pointed towards him feeling so. Acting like a complete brat must be his way to communicate said emotions.

“I-Im not going to be put into a timeout”

Willy said defensively, hating it even more so when he could feel his defensives starting to crumble. The tone of voice and instructions making him feel very vulnerable. His reaction only furthered Lofty’s suspicions of his dwindling headspace.

“Are you sure about that? Because I disagree.”

Lofty firmly pulled him to the corner, before tugging hard down. It was remarkable how strong he was, considering his size. The jolt unsteadying Wonka as he fell onto his rear. It didn’t hurt, but paired with Lofty’s firm expression and his already sensitive emotions?

It made him feel too vulnerable and small, swallowing hard to keep down any tears. But even still against his own self control, a few dribbled over. Curling in on himself as he sniffled to himself miserably, it seemed to be the last straw for his headspace slipping.

Even Lofty sympathetically shook his head at the sorry sight, but had a suspicion that it was what he needed. Wonka was the type of person who far too often bottled up any negative emotion, always trying to keep his signature (and often irritating optimism)

So pulling a pocket watch from his waistcoat, he checked the time.

“Your ten minutes begin now”

Willy looked up with a glare, he didn’t want to wait ten minutes. It wasn’t fair, he hadn’t meant to break Loftys silly teacup. Although there was a part of him that felt guilty about it, it was a pretty teacup. He watched as the Oompa Loompa turned on his heel, gathering each shard of ceramic from the floor.

Wonka didn’t even know why he had even entertained this silly idea, but with his current headspace Willy couldn’t stop the onslaught of tears, mixed with self pity and overwhelm. Whining and groaning from pure frustration, wanting any kind of attention. He wanted Lofty to come over and apologise for putting him here, or at least offer some kind of response. But Lofty didn’t react at all, just continuing to clean. The lack of any kind of reaction though infuriated Willy further.

He’d been placed onto the oval rug, legs tucked up to his chest. So with a huff he kicked both his legs out from underneath him, boots slamming onto the floorboards with a loud clunk. Lofty was faced away as he swept the broken crockery, but sighed before responding.

“Please remove your shoes from the floor, I don’t want you leaving scuff marks on the mahogany”

He sternly requested, Willy swallowing and instinctively pulling his feet back. Cursing himself for being so easily scolded, it was something about his tone of voice that just cut through him like butter. It just built even more anger and frustration within himself. He was scowling to himself when he thought came to mind, remove his shoes Lofty told him.

Fine. He’ll remove his shoes alright. Fumbling a little with the laces, Willy untangled the lace from his boot. Grabbing ahold of the sole he pulled hard to get it off, holding the boot to his chest with a frown. Before he could change his mind, he raised the boot high above his head. And in one angry motion he hurled the shoe hard, colliding with the doorway where Lofty was disposing of the mess. A chunk of the skirting board chipped off from the projectile hitting from such force.

The Oompa Loompa jumped in surprise at the projectile, but still retained his cool exterior. Taking another deep breath to regulate himself, he knew a reaction was exactly what Wonka was trying to get out of him. So he calmly just pulled out his pocket watch once again, resetting the timer with a sigh and a shaking head.

“Congratulations Mr Wonka, you have now had your time reset , with an added five minutes for throwing that shoe. Even think about doing the same with the other one, and you can trust me when I say you’ll be spending the rest of the evening on that mat.”

He spoke with a dead serious tone, turning to look Willy directly in the eye to show he really really meant it. Wonka’s angry body language visibly deflating like a balloon, shrinking down. He knew that Lofty wasn’t taking any more of his tricks. He couldn’t even be naughty properly, just like how he couldn’t finish that stupid recipe. With only one boot on he tucked his legs back under his chin, sniffing as he felt his eyes watering. This time he couldn’t hold it in, bursting into floods of tears. Quickly escalating into bubbling sobs, everything all at once crashing in on itself.

Willy couldn’t even tell what he was crying about, whether it breaking his condenser, yelling at Lofty or being scolded at for throwing the stupid shoe. It seemed to be days of pent up emotion just exploding out of him. His cries ended up hitching and hiccuping , making his head throb horribly. It felt as if he’d been marooned on this silly carpet for hours. After five minutes his sorrowful howling had escalated to the point where he wasn’t sure if he could breathe, any time he tried to stop he just dissolved into panicked sobs again.

Lofty knew that he had no option but to intervene at this point, regardless of his punishment. Slowly walking over before sitting down across from him on the floor.

“Alright you’re going to make yourself sick at this rate, you’re not taking in enough air with your silly gasping.”

Willy looked up through his tears to see the Oompa Loompa sitting across from him. Although still amongst the meltdown, he glared at him.

“Go-a-WAY!”

He yelled as best he could, but his voice cracked and whimpered which ruined the effect he wanted yet again.

“Not happening I’m afraid. Now try take in some deep breaths with me, before you keel over from lack of oxygen.”

Willy’s head was in-fact feeling a bit dizzy, as were his hands that were beginning to tingle with pins and needles. As if he had a fizzy soda pop running through his veins. It was difficult to try and break out of the cycle of hyperventilation, watching closely as Lofty demonstrated. Who placed an orange hand to his stomach, before breathing in deeply.

“Copy as such, hold a hand over your belly and breathe in, hold it for a few moments before letting go. Feel your stomach rise in and out the way as you do so.”

Willy found this all rather silly sounding, but decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. Even if Lofty had been so mean as to put him in timeout. He took in the breath, but halfway through it hitched again. Falling back into the unhelpful gasping.

“Try again, with me this time”

Loftys tone was still firm, but gentle also. Willy swallowing as fat tears kept on spilling over. He nodded and tried again, holding his hands over his belly. This time successfully taking in a deep breath and feeling his stomach rising and falling. He carried on following Lofty’s example for a couple minutes, and although the torrent of tears hadn’t stopped, Willy had managed to calm down a little.

“That’s much better, now would you say we’re done with the tantrum at last? I fear for the house’s interior if we plan on throwing any more shoes.”

Willy nodded tearfully, looking over at the ceramic shards that had been swept into a pile, sitting to the chunk that had been chipped from the skirting board from the boot. Then remembering the mess in his workshop he caused, he just ruined everything.

“Mmso-sorry..”

Face screwing up again, swallowing to try keep himself from falling to pieces again. Lofty sighed sympathetically, shaking his head as he unfolded a handkerchief from his waistcoat.

“Now that’s enough of that, I know it was an accident- well at least some of it was. Regardless, from the look of it you’ve served your time anyways.”

Lofty checking his pocket and watch before he stood up to daub around the chocolatiers hot teary face. A surprisingly gentle and kind action that was quite unheard of coming from Lofty. The fabric was extremely soft, there was even a pretty design embroidered onto it. He was then handed the cloth once Lofty was satisfied with his mopped up eyes.

“Now blow that nose of yours, you’ve probably given yourself a terrible headache.”

Wonka sniffed with a nod, but felt the pretty stitching with his fingers. It felt a little sacrilegious to make it gross by blowing his nose into it.

“It’s too- pretty”

Willy mumbled, the corners were stitched with tiny little exotic flowers and vines. Maybe they were the ones you got in Loompa land. It was a shame that he didn’t spend too much time there on his travels, only a quick stop in search of cocoa beans.

“It’s quite alright, keep it if you’d like. I can always make another.”

Lofty said flippantly, seeing a flicker of a smile in Wonka’s face at the gift. Although it wasn’t like he deserved it from how miserable he’d been acting. It was clear that with Lofty’s small hands he could then create the smallest and most intricate detail.

Even still, Willy didn’t want to ruin it. Stuffing the hanky into his pocket before resolving to use his sleeve to wipe his nose. Much to Loftys utter disgust, Willy just hoping that he wouldn’t change his mind on the gift.

“Ugh, and I give you a perfectly good handkerchief for nothing”

Lofty spoke, shaking his head in disappointment. For the first time Willy letting out a small chuckle, although still between the tears dribbling down his cheeks. Even Lofty couldn’t help but smirk, pleased to see that his spirits had lifted even a little.

“I suppose you can get off that mat now, I gather you’ve certainly learned your lesson.”

Loftys small hand patted Willy’s knee, who took in a deep breath as he nodded. Apart from the headache he already had, Willys head was feeling extremely fuzzy. The outburst had caused him to slip very small, very quickly. Thankfully Lofty had already connected the dots on that matter, and it was very clear Wonka was going to need some caring for this evening. Willy knuckled his bloodshot eyes as he stood up, feeling a slight head rush as he did so.

“Careful! Don’t need to add falling over and flattening me to the list of trouble today.”

Lofty warned, standing and dusting himself off. Looking up at Willy as he stood fidgeting with his hands. Not quite sure what to do with himself, thankfully Lofty took charge again. Despite his towering size over him, all he could see above him was a tired little child. One that seemed to be in desperate need of some comfort and rest.

“Come on then, let’s get you settled and into bed.”

Lofty held up his hand, just high enough so that Willy could hook a finger into the palm of his small hand. Willy allowing himself to be lead through the flat, his other hand making its way to his lips as he chewed on his thumbnail. It was only early evening, but Wonka felt exhausted regardless. The upset had taken all the energy from his system and left him drained and weary. Lofty swiftly delivered the boy to his bedroom, greeted by the warm red and pink tones decorated throughout.

Similar to his childhood home, Willy had a bed built into the wall much like his mother’s canal boat. The structure having a short ornate barrier that on the boat was meant to prevent one from falling out during a storm. Although no longer on the water, it was an aspect that Willy always found comforting. The raised sides creating a safe barrier, he often fell out of his ramshackle bed at scrubbits during the night when he stayed there. The hardboard flooring extremely unforgiving to your body when you fell upon it. Even still, there was also a homemade rag rug sitting on the floor beside. Noodle and her Mother had made it for him as a housewarming gift for when he first moved into his new home.

Willy let go of Lofty’s hand to kneel down on the floor to run his hand over said item. It was made from scrap pieces of multiple kinds of fabric tied together, he liked the texture of it.

All the while Lofty tutted at the rooms lack of organisation, disapprovingly picking up a discarded vest that was lying on the ground.

“Really Mr Wonka, you’re too old to be keeping your room in such a sorry state”

Lofty couldn’t help but comment, before looking over at the little chocolatier who was just kneeling on the carpet, running his hand over its surface, the other chewing on his thumb. Lofty realised his own irony of his comment, chuckling to himself.

“Well, perhaps not at the moment I see”

There was something endearing about Wonka like this, well apart from the tantrum. That part he could live without, but you can’t exactly pick and choose these things. Willy himself was feeling very small, head fuzzy and little. But especially tired, he was so sleepy. He hadn’t been sleeping properly for the past couple days, mind too busy with calculations for new candies and chocolate.

“You need to get into bed, get changed into your nightclothes and I’ll return in a few minutes with some sustenance.”

Lofty called, Willy turning away from the rug to look over with a weak nod. Eating and drinking properly was yet another matter that he’d been neglecting. By his bed sat a drawer containing his nightclothes, deciding to just shuffle on his rear over rather than walk.

Willy ended up deciding on his favourite pair, an incredibly soft magenta material. It had small gold buttons down the middle though, and he had a little trouble getting them done up. The fabric felt heavenly against his skin, the material reminding him of one of his mother’s old smocks. With his eyes closed he held the sleeve close to his cheek, just imagining the sweet smell of her perfume, a soft gentle tune being hummed.

On his bed he spied a familiar looking companion, a navy knitted toucan was peaking his beak from beneath the blanket. Willy pulling himself up to crawl onto his bed, carefully collecting his bird friend, Chester. Both button eyes looking up at his own red bloodshot ones from crying. He manoeuvred his wing to reach up and wipe his own eyes.

don’t cry willy, it’s okay

As Willy continued his imaginary conversation with the stuffed animal, Lofty re-entered the room. Holding a wooden tray with him, he couldn’t help a fond chuckle at seeing the man in some kind of whispered conversation with the inanimate object. Wonka heard said laugh though, head whipping around as he threw the plush behind him. His face burning scarlet, Lofty must find him so silly.

But the Oompa Loompa wasn’t phased in the slightest, shaking his head with a small knowing smile.

“I believe I’ve already met- Charles is it? Before, no need to throw him away in my presence”

He reassured indifferently with a shrug, Willy feeling a little better.

“Chester! name is Chester.”

He had to correct the mistake, frustrated that Lofty had once again forgotten his name. Lofty simply looked up and shook his head.

“My apologies Chester”

Willy then turned to pick up the toucan again, whose eyes had been a bit skewed by being thrown. Which gave him a very understandable expression of annoyance.

ouch! You’re lucky I didn’t split a seam there. Charles though huh? Makes me sound fancy, don’t mind it.

Willy held the bird close to his chest in apology, who thankfully was very forgiving. Lofty approaching and placing the tray on the side table. On it sat two drinks, one small mug of tea, and a glass bottle of what looked to be hot chocolate.

Willy blushed a little again at the sight of it, remembering it had been something Abacus had purchased for him. A rubber nipple was stretched over the neck of the glass bottle to keep it sealed.

“Abacus already warned me of your capability of spilling drinks when you’re feeling young, I thought especially right now, it’s what you need”

Lofty stated matter of factly, not willing to risk Wonka creating any more mess tonight. Willy looked down played with his fingers, feeling a bit torn on whether he wanted it or not. But before he could make a decision, Lofty caught sight of something, clicking his tongue.

“Oh for heavens sake let me fix those buttons, you’ve created quite a mess of it.”

Without hesitation he reached forward to fix them, unbuttoning and rebuttoning each row. Willy hasn’t even realised he’d buttoned each row into the wrong buttonhole, looking down to watch as Lofty small hands fixed the error. Chuffing to himself smugly when finished, Willy didn’t think he could feel any smaller. The simple action had sunk him even further into headspace, but he appreciated how Lofty took charge like this. There was no room for him to start second guessing or feel self conscious.

So when Lofty did offer the bottle afterwards, he didn’t hesitate and took it with both hands. It was hot, but not so hot that it burned. It was filled with a milky sweet hot chocolate, whilst Lofty sipped on his own dark mocha.

“Cmon, into bed now. I do say there may be a possibility of a story if you get settled quickly.”

With widened eyes Willy quickly scrambled beneath his blanket, he did love stories so. Abacus always read in his comforting baritone rumble, but he’d never had a story yet from Lofty. There was a small stack of hardback books piled underneath a shelf, yet another gift from Noodle. She knew how much Willy enjoyed books, whilst both little and big now. But he had a soft spot for these picture books, they were short and had easy rounded lettering.

Pointing at the stack once settled inside bed, Lofty began to sift through them. Smiling at the charming watercolour illustrations, each book was its own story but they seemed to all share the theme of the characters being animals who acted much the same as humans. Beginning to understand now that Willy struggled with decision making at the moment, Lofty chose one of the books himself. Settling on one which depicted a family of kittens performing household chores.

Willy smiled when recognising the title, reaching out to trace the covers illustration when Lofty perched on the bed beside him.

“Now are we all comfortable?”

Lofty turned to see the chocolatier tucked into bed, the small toucans beak hooked over the covers. Willy held the bottle in both hands, only realising now that he was quite peckish. The hot chocolate was soothing against his raw throat from crying, and he guzzled it down eagerly. Although he was quickly interrupted with a gentle nudge of the elbow from Lofty.

“You’ll give yourself hiccups again if you drink it too fast Wonka, it’s not going anywhere.”

He chastised, Willy releasing the grip on the bottle with a sheepish giggle. Lofty then returning to the book, reading out the title in a clear gentle tone.

“Five little Kittens…”

By the end of the story, the rest of the bottle had been drained to nothing. Willy loved the book, even more so with Lofty reading. He would often pause between pages to rely his own thoughts and comments, which made Willy laugh. Surprisingly Lofty also did voices! Lowering his pitch up and down for each of the different feline characters.

“Alright then, how about one more and you try get some rest.”

Lofty spoke quietly, wanting to settle the boy in hopes he would fall asleep. Willy’s eyelids were beginning to flutter, the hot chocolate having filled his belly with a bloom of warmth. Lofty just chose the next book in the stack, this one’s cover featuring a squirrel in a blizzard whilst he hid inside a tree trunk.

By the time that Lofty had gotten through the middle of the story, he heard a gentle rumbling from beside him. Willy Wonka completely out for the count, snoring softly with one hand still ahold of the glass bottle. It was an endearing sight, even Lofty couldn’t lie. With a fond chuckle, he laid a hand to gently stroke his brown curly hair from his face.

“I do say, I definitely prefer you like this.”

[ear-motif]

also also. p sure will’s hands were fine after beating randall’s ass. he wasnt wincing or anything to convey that his hand broke or that he was in pain. they just got scraped up. buddy put on swelling piano riffs and got out the fine china basin filled with saline painstakingly transferred via pipette from an iv bag to the basin just so he could tenderly cradle and bandage will’s hands that definitely wouldve been fine with just a band-aid or with a quick wash just so he could wrap those delicate fingers in soft gauze and sit 2 inches away from him and smell his hair and maybe drink the basin water later-

[sio-writes]

Botanist's Guide - Chapter 12

<<Chapter 11 (NSFW)

<<< Chapter 1

Summary: Cassandra Rowland, PhD, finally has the chance to work on an experiment that really matters: growing Earth crops on another planet. Too many overdue reports and marked failures have put her in hot water with the board, and this is her last chance at redemption. So when she finds herself railroaded by a seven foot tall, glowing alien named Kri, it won’t be as easy as sticking some seeds in the soil and running them under the tap. Tack on the looming repossession of her lab contingent on her success in Kri’s reports, and Cassie realizes she may have her work cut out for her.

Looking into the microscope I see exactly what I should be seeing: The box-like cell structure of a plant, no different than one I'd see on Earth. It's sage, so crushing it between the slides released it's earthy aroma, and now my whole station smells like the greenhouse, but that's not a complaint. 

Mutations are non-existent, cell walls look good, chlorophyll is bright green. I check off the Salvia officinalis box on my laptop as well as transfer any notes from my head to the computer, and then I pick up the next slide. 

Lactuca Satvia, iceberg lettuce, also looks like every slide I've made. No mutations, it's bright green that fades into a white at the stalk, and if it weren't currently doing a job for science, I'd definitely add it to a salad. I note it down right next to the sage, humming something off-key as I do. Maybe I'll grab a salad for lunch. 

There's only a few more slides to go through, I'm making great time today. My mp3 player crapped out on me, a victim of getting slammed against the wall the other day. I have a little funeral planned, which just consists of putting her into the garbage cube-maker thing. If I had funeral music to play I would, but…well.

It's absence has left the lab deathly silent, but I think my coworkers are thankful for it. At least, no one's said otherwise. The change in pace has kept me focused, a good thing for today with so much technical work to get done. Staying on task is my number one priority.

And Jillie won't stop staring at me.

All day now, she's been throwing me glances, flat out staring me down, she even sent a paper note over. I've been pointedly ignoring her in favor of digging into my work, with huge success on my end. I'm apparently very good at my job when I'm avoiding something else.

I'd tried the silent treatment when the door first opened-- two hours later!-- but once she started crying I felt too bad to keep up the charade. Then she'd shoved these nasty granola bars and an ice-cold water in my face, and I ate only to appease her and not because I'd skipped dinner to head back to the lab in the first place. Besides, a few minutes of pretending to be mad told her what I needed it to, and it was about all I could handle anyway. She's my friend, I can't be mad at her for trying to hook me up. But I can pretend to withhold the information to torture her for a few days. Just a little. 

The first day back had been the worst of her prying. Kri had decided to keep up his schedule of only showing up once a week, giving her permission to blabber away.

"So. Is it big?"

"Hand me the pipettes, please."

"Aw come on! At least tell me if he was good!"

"Pipettes. Please."

But Kri is here today, thank god, so her barrage of questions has stopped for now.

Eventually I will share, because I want to, but Kri and I didn't actually talk about anything. He didn't wake me up after ten minutes like I'd asked him to, instead the shrill metal of the door sliding open is what woke me up. And then Jillie rushed in with her terrible food, and we all went home. It felt particularly anti-climactic compared to the heated confession and fucking. 

Part of me is hopeful, but it's nearly drowned out by the cynic in me. Until we parted ways, Kri kept constant contact with me-- a steadying hand on my back, an arm around my waist, and once, for a glorious moment as Jillie walked out ahead of us, he interlaced our hands together and squeezed my fingers. I think my heart actually leapt into my throat, and then he was walking away without a goodbye.

It's left this…whatever we have going, undefined and hazy. We exchanged pleasantries this morning, but that was all, and it's been nothing but work since. I'm not picking up any anger or malice, but it's also awkward as hell, especially with an extra set of blue eyes watching my every move. "Ignore us Jill, but hey Kri, remember when we fucked? That was great, wanna do it again? On a regular basis?" 

It's not like I can call or text him, I don't have a phone that connects to Summanus' sat-system. Just the chunky brick they gave at landing that connects to the handful of satellites we ground out of the military's original plan. I don't know where Kri lives, either, and they don't have any kind of directory in English. But it's not like Kri's made any moves either, and he actually knows where I live.

I sigh through my nose as I prep the next set of slides. Maybe I'm making excuses, flimsy reasons to keep this going as a casual thing instead of what I'd hoped it would be, what I want it to be. But we need to talk, hands down. Because not knowing is driving me crazy. 

Stealing a glance at Kri is easy, just pretend to hold the slide to the light. I simultaneously want to catch his attention as well as have him keep ignoring me so I can keep staring like a creep. There's things I hadn't picked up on before, small details. The line of his shoulders, the angles of his wings. He's still so pretty under the lights with the flecks of opalescent color in his plating, but it feels like I'm seeing him in an entirely new light. Has something in my brain switched?

The cosmos grants me a favor when Jillie walks to the bathroom. Immediately, I step away from my desk and towards Kri.

"Hey," I say. 

I probably should've thought of something to say.

"Hello," he says, resting his hands on his lap and giving me his full attention. "Is everything alright?"

I fidget with my coat, trying not to remember how it felt to take off for him. "Can we--Can we talk?"

He glances sideways at the bathroom door, then back to me. "Right now?"

I've come to realize that Kri isn't cagey like I once thought, he's just intensely private. He doesn't broadcast things, doesn't offer information like I do, isn't loud or boisterous. He flies under the radar a lot, and I think it's on purpose. 

"Later," I assure him. "Later-- um, do you wanna-- I mean, would you mind, maybe--"

As I talk and fidget, Kri stands from his chair and steps up to me. He grabs my face gently between two hands, and tilts my head up to his, both thumbs tracing lines over my cheeks.

"Would you like to talk over dinner?"

"That's a--" I clear my throat, and Kri's eyes crinkle as he smiles. "Sounds great."

His fingers are soft and warm, thumbs tracing over my cheek again, and his gaze falls to my lips. 

Nothing's been set in stone, but this, and the reminder of everything else, makes me want something solid. Something real, tangible.

I've tried to think about what I want to say, but I've never been good at stringing words together. I'm more a woman of action than speaking, I'd rather just push Kri against the desk and kiss him until my lips bleed.

We lean closer together, almost kissing, until the sound of a soft 'ahem' makes us jump apart, and we both turn to the source of the noise. In the doorway, Jillie has the biggest, shit-eating grin on her face.

My jaw works on several starting noises, but none make their way out. I wind up looking like a fish.

She holds up her hands, placating. "Hey don't let me interrupt." And sits back at the countertop as if nothing happened.

Heat rises to my cheeks, even more so when I hear Kri softly chuckle behind me as he steps back to sit down. I grumble back to my desk, and Jillie's pointed looks burns a hole through my spine. But we work through the next thirty minutes without issue. It's boring as shit, and the tension in the air makes my leg bounce up and down.

After a few more minutes of tense silence, I'm ready to burst. I'm going to explode.

"I'm holding a funeral for Emmie."

The two of them look to me, but their expressions couldn't be further apart. Kri looks shocked, genuinely concerned that I have a deceased friend, and Jillie's look is flat, very much done with my shit. 

"Your mp3 player, really Cass?"

Kri's expression resolves into understanding, and then falls to match Jillie's. "Hardly grounds for a funeral."

I chew on my bottom lip and stare at the floor. "Yeah the, uh, the screen cracked." I pull Emmie out of my back pocket, where she usually lives, and display her in my cupped palms like a baby bird. Behind Jillie, Kri sucks in a breath, but says nothing. Jillie either doesn't notice or doesn't care, because she scoffs, smiling.

"You're so dramatic."

I pocket Emmie again, my brows pinching in mock-offense. "She was a member of this family!"

"It was outdated before your grandparents were born!"

"She was reliable," I hold my hand to my heart, and wipe away a tear. "Three thousand songs, no internet required. Now I have to find something else."

"God forbid you talk to us instead."

I hold my sordid expression. "No one here understands me."

"You listen to your sad music too much, hun."

"It is rather whiny," Kri chimes in, and I shoot him a dirty look over Jillie's shoulder. He shrugs.

"You're both bullies, I'm putting in for a transfer," I say very mildly as I grab the next slides.

"Good," Jillie sniffs. "You can smooch it up in someone else's lab."

As slowly and dramatically as possible, I turn to her. "I'm sorry, who stuck us in a room for three hours?"

"Two, you drama queen."

"At least Kri likes me," I say and Jillie shoves my shoulder.

"One of us has to."

Our shoulders shake as we hold back laughter, and for the first time all day, I feel light. Like a seal has been broken and released all the pressure in the room.

Jillie doesn't stare at me anymore, instead she focuses her efforts on the experiment, and even hums a few songs to break up the silence. We hit a flow again, something that's been sorely lacking the past few weeks, and zoom through the required tests. Despite the crushing quiet, it's been nice to sink into a routine that we both know, stepping around each other like a dance.

I keep my eye-contact down to a minimum, because my thoughts will scatter to the wind again. And it's hard enough reigning them in even when I'm  focusing on my work. Looking at Kri only makes me think of the other day, and then what may happen later. It opens up a question that I desperately need an answer to, but won't get until later. But I need it now, and the anxiety of not knowing is ramping up my anxiety to a twelve.

We all break for lunch, the three of us walking to the cafeteria. Jillie and I snag a booth with our food, and Kri splits off. I look around to see if I can find him in the mess that is the food prep stations, but I don't see him. He chose to eat by himself those first few days, a habit that carried over even when Jillie was out sick, but I wish he'd sit with us now. 

Turning back to the booth, I accidentally make eye-contact with Jillie. The flame of curiosity is back in her eyes, and I shrink down in my seat. I suppose it's time to end her suffering.

"This is killing me," she says. "Are you guys a thing now?"

She looks so excited, so hungry to hear about everything. I push out a sigh. "I have no idea. We didn't talk about it."

Leaning back, Jillie's face falls into an impressed expression, and I fail to suppress a responding smile. Jillie slaps her palms on the table and barks out a laugh. "I knew it!"

"Shush!" I hiss, reaching over as if the motion would quiet her. "Not so loud."

Jillie's eyes are glittering as she reaches for my hands across the table. "You have to tell me everything."

In as many words, I try to surmise the evening, from the fight to falling asleep, with Jillie interjecting with questions every now and then. Some details I keep to myself, I'm allowed some secrets, but Jillie's my best friend. We try to eat in between, but eventually wind up setting down our food to focus on conversation.

I finish with her opening the door, and she squeezes my hands. "So where should I disinfect? The countertop? The floor? The shower in the bathroom?"

"He held me against the wall," I say, pulling my bottom lip between my teeth.

"Ooh, standing?"

I shake my head, and her look of realization is priceless.

"You have to tell me how big he is."

I groan to the ceiling. "I wish I knew. I couldn't see it."

"Then you gotta look again, hun!"

Leaning back, I grab my water bottle and take a swig. "He did invite me to dinner."

Jillie nods sagely. "You're definitely gonna get some tonight, then."

I open the wrapper for my salad and mull it over as I pour the dressing on. "I don't know if I want to. At least not tonight. I was hoping we'd talk instead."

"Talk?"

I nod. "We didn't do much talking-- shut up-- so now I don't know what this is. Friends-with-benefits? Something serious? And what do I even want? What does he want from me? What is he--"

"Cass, calm down. Nothing's happened yet."

"That's the problem! I don't know what's going on."

Jillie scrunches her face, her head falling to one side. "Then ask him?"

I plop my cheek into my palm, squishing my face on one side. "Not like we've had time."

Jillie offers me a sympathetic look. "Maybe you need to be more upfront. Instead of making out while I'm in the bathroom, you have a little chit-chat. I can disappear for a while."

"We already agreed on dinner," I say, smiling.

"You sure?" She raises her eyebrows. "You just say the word, and I'm gone for fifteen to twenty minutes."

I shake my head again, filled with warmth that she's so insistent. I am anxious about it, but things can wait. It's not worth putting the experiment on hold for. Besides, the lab is hardly a romantic setting to have a serious conversation.

With a deciding nod, Jillie starts to clean her space, and I'm short to follow behind. The rest of the day runs as planned, no interruptions. Jillie stays in her seat, and I'm not thrown into a panic.

I'm actually looking forward to dinner with Kri. The restaurants here are okay, and there's even a few with that warm, low, romantic lighting that's perfect for dates. And honestly, I'm more excited to spend time with Kri. A small, girlish part of me wants to go home to freshen up, make myself look nice instead of the lab rat I must resemble.

All three of us head out of the building, Jillie heading west, Kri and I heading south. The restaurants are all in the northern quadrant by the Capitalism District, there's none in this direction. The only thing this way is housing.

I fake nonchalance as we walk. "So, where're we headed?"

"The…" he trails off, frowning and speaking slowly like he's testing out the words. "Food storage facility."

I raise an eyebrow. "The grocery store?"

He looks down at me, concerned. "Is that okay?"

The grocery store is closer to a MiniMart or a gas station. A handful of isles of instant meals, comfort foods, and frozen produce shipped from Earth. But there's also the ento-run store to the east with more selection. It's open to the public, but everything is labeled in Universal, and I have no idea what's good or not, so I've been too intimidated to go on my own. "Which store?" I ask.

"The eastern building, I just need to pick up a few items."

I feel my stomach grumble. "And food after?"

"I was hoping to cook for you," he says, wings fluttering. "If that's alright."

I haven't had anyone cook for me since I visited my parents. Warmth settles in me, not quite arousal, but something else, something heavier. Kri wants to cook for me.

"That'd be awesome."

The walk to the grocery store runs through another block of buildings, all of them painted in subdued, warm tones. They're all short, maybe three stories at the tallest, and the terrain reminds me of a seaside strip mall-- laid brick and cobblestone. I've only ever been to this side once on a tour, this is where it turns into culture and arts. 

The store is nestled at the bottom floor of a deep red building, a carved out space that may have once been a multi-vehicle garage. Inside are several rows of foodstuffs, some packaged, some open. There's an assortment of fruits that I have no idea the names of as well as what look like a few rows of packaged instant ramen. Some things are universal, I suppose. 

The store is empty, so it's just the two of us looking through the isles. I wander the isles while Kri picks up several fruits. He grabs a plum-sized blue seed, a handful of bean pods the size of my finger, and two green vegetables that look like potatoes. I'm examining the isle of drinks, wondering what tastes like what, when Kri grabs my attention.

"Would you prefer sweet, or savory?" He holds up two nearly identical looking spheres that look like dark red coconuts. I walk up and pretend to inspect them, humming as I think. I have no idea what he's doing, but I appreciate that he's including me. 

"What do you like?" I ask. 

"It's your decision."

I blink at him. "But I don't know what you're cooking. What's easier for you?"

Kri regards me, head tilted, and puts the coconut in his left hand back on the pile. He doesn't say anything, remaining silent as he grabs several other things, all the while catching glimpses of me as he does. I sidle up to him as the cashier bags his stuff.

"What'd ya go with?"

The cashier extends one long arm and hands Kri his things, and Kri quickly closes the bag so I can't see inside. "You'll have to find out."

I balk. "No fair!"

He smirks at me sidelong. "You insisted it was my decision."

"But I need to know the results."

"You will."

***

Kri’s apartment isn’t far from the store. I have to wrestle one of the grocery bags out of his grubby hands so I can I carry it and feel useful as we wind around buildings and cross a few streets. We walk quietly, not quite awkward enough for my reflexive talking to kick in, but I feel the need to fill the space simmering under my skin.

I want to say something. I should probably say something. It's only fair, and would help my anxiety so much more than waiting. 

We wait in the elevator to his floor and I need to say something. We're approaching his place and I need to speak up, but I say silent.

It's too much, it would break this easy flow. The timing isn't right and god damn it, we're already at his door. 

Stepping through the doorway feels simultaneously like jumping off a cliff and nothing at all. I'm aware of how huge this feels, my stomach lurches and my hands go clammy, but I'm also aware of the world continuing to turn around me. This doesn't feel real, but I want to grab at it with both hands and take it before it disappears.

Kri flicks the lights on, and I don't know what I expected, but a mirror of my own place wasn't it. This building is supposed to have the nicer layouts, with actual bedrooms instead of a studio layout. It's not surprising though, us Earth scientists are about as creative as socks for Christmas when it comes to designing buildings. I hope Kri isn't paying extra.

Everything is scaled up for someone of Kri's size, and there's a massive cloth hammock where the bed should be that's piled high with pillows. Along the living room wall on the right are shelves of books, interspersed with plants of various sizes that hang down almost to the floor. To the left of the sliding glass door to the balcony is another bookshelf, with a screen and speakers, and the light reflects off several picture frames that flick through a few photos.

Giving in to my base urge to be nosy, I set my bag on the kitchen counter and wander over to the television set. Under the coffee table is an ornate looking rug that's definitely too expensive for my apartment, and I try to tip-toe around it to avoid leaving any dirt, when something catches my eye.

In the corner, on a bottom shelf, is a taxidermied rat on a tiny skateboard. It's in the middle of popping an ollie, sitting in the center of some kind of ceramic crown of Summanian flowers. The frame above it swipes to a new photo, and in my peripheral I see Kri

My anxiety flares, and I turn away from the shelf of picture frames and other memories. Focusing my attention on something else is all I can do not to feel like a trespasser here, and I wander to the kitchen where Kri is grabbing several items from the fridge. The feeling of inadequacy swells, gelatinous and without form, and I try to push it down. It squishes between the bars of my mind, an imprint reflected back at me that tells me I’m not welcome here.

Instead, I step up to Kri and wrap my arms over his waist. The chitinous plating covering his body draws lines over his form that lead my fingers to his front, and I lean into his frame. Even bent over, my arms are level with his waist, and when he straightens, it pushes my face into his wings. Their whole structure is split into two sets, the bottom that folds open like a fan, and the top shaped like a dragonfly’s wing. They’re cool under my cheek, catching the light and shimmering.

“Yes?” He asks, two hands coming to pat mine.

I sigh heavily against his back, trying to sort my thoughts and coming up short. Taking my silence for an answer, Kri turns in my arms and cups my face in his lower hands.

“Am I not paying you enough attention?” He teases gently, running a free hand over my head. “Because I’m trying to provide you with a meal.”

Shame wells up behind my anxiety, hot and present, and I puff my cheeks and stare at a spot on his shoulder. I know talking is the right choice here, but my head is too much of a mess to talk about anything. 

Ignoring the swirling feelings in my gut, I push up on the balls of my feet and press our lips together. He hums, a surprised note deep in his throat, as the hands gently cupping my cheeks firmly hold me and he pushes back. It’s a different kiss than the first one, softer, sweeter, holding promise. He’s slow to lick in my mouth, but it adds heat that reminds me of the passion of last week. He can pick me up and set me against the wall, can hold me with two arms and work me over with the other two.

I push my tongue into his mouth, wanting to make up for the interrupted kiss earlier today. My lips slot against his and he hums another satisfied note as he skims his tongue against mine and starts exploring my mouth.

I want more of this, I want this all the time. I can’t imagine giving up the way he slots so perfectly against me, like a puzzle piece I didn’t realize I was missing.

Kri pulls away from my mouth with a pained sound, but I can hear the smile in his voice. "I thought you wanted to talk first."

I lean into him and push my lip out in a pout. "Changed my mind." 

And then he smiles against my lips and pushes forward again. It's so easy to give in, like falling into a soft bed. I'm surrounded by comfort and warmth. 

Taking the lead, Kri steps me over to the counter and, without breaking the kiss, picks me up by the waist and lifts me onto the countertop. The ease that he picks me up makes me feel hot, and I moan softly against his lips before Kri pulls away. 

"What would you like to--" 

"Anything you want," I breathe. "What do you want?" 

Kri laughs, low and dangerous. "From you? Everything."

He leans forward to kiss me again, but the silence of the room makes my growling stomach practically echo against the walls, and Kri's hands stop halfway to my chest.

"You need to eat," he says, smiling. 

With that, he straightens, hands smoothing down my hair, and turns away from me and back into the kitchen.

"What would you like to drink? I have water, and I'm quite fond of Earth's orange juice."

I snicker. "Orange juice is actually more of a breakfast drink."

Kri presses his lips together and looks away, wings fluttering. "I also have lifrit juice, and wegol soda."

I hop down from the countertop and walk around the island to a stool. It's tall enough that when I sit, my legs swing freely. It's been a long while since my feet haven't hit the floor, it makes me feel like a kid again. 

Humming, I tap my fingertips over my lips. I'm not sure what those last two were, and I'm up for trying something new, but I also want tonight to mean something. It feels important that everything go right. "What would go with tonight's meal?"

He perks up at that. "I may have something," And starts rooting around in his lower cabinets. I hear him knocking about lots of metal objects-- pots and pans maybe, before he straightens, holding a bottle of wine.

"Is this acceptable?"

I drag the bottle closer and spin it around to get a look at the label. It's a Sauvignon blanc from a few years back, unopened. What a random thing to have in his cabinet. "Why do you have this?"

"I bought it to sample the taste, but never got the chance," he says as he roots around in the drawers. He opens a few before finding the little corkscrew opener and hands it to me. The bottle pops open easily, and I pour it into the two glasses Kri sets out for me. I bring the glass to my lips and sip at it while Kri watches and mimics me. I'm not super into wine-tasting but this one is good, it would pair well with a fancy meal. 

The face Kri makes after he sips is the same face I make when Jillie orders tequila shots, and I have to be careful not to inhale my drink. Kri immediately sets his glass down and shakes his head.

I hide my smile behind my glass. "Not a fan?"

"That is quite awful," he says with a shudder.

I take another sip of mine and then swirl the glass because I feel fancy. "It's pretty dry, you may be a fan of the sweeter stuff like Moscato. That one tastes like ginger ale."

Kri eyes my glass and purses his lips, skeptical, "I'll take your word for it."

As he turns back to the stove, I tip the remnants of his drink into my own, nearly filling the glass to the brim. Drinking on an empty stomach is a bad idea, especially if I'm going to need to find my way home later, but if I take little sips instead of trying to gulp it down like I usually do, I think I'll manage.

I watch Kri as he cooks, sitting on the opposite end of the countertop island to stay out of his way. As always, he's graceful in what he does, even with his back to me. All four hands doing something different, always switching focus and lasering in on it, not a single mistake is allowed, and absolutely hypnotizing to watch. 

"You're an alien of many talents," I say, and he glances at me over his shoulder.

"How do you mean?"

"I didn't know you could cook."

"Oh, I quite enjoy it. I can make you all manner of things."

I ignore the flutter in my stomach at the idea of him making me food regularly, and try to peer around him as he works. "What's your favorite thing to make?"

"Lepsc'it, it's a fried Trokk root stuffed with vegetables and spices. It's very easy, only a few ingredients, and there's many varieties all over the globe."

"Are you making that now?"

His wings flutter. "I thought I'd attempt something a bit more complicated."

"Are you trying to impress me?" I ask with a smirk.

He's too slow to cover his smile, "Only if it's working."

The smell of spices and vegetables fills the small space, like thyme or rosemary, with a hint of heat behind all of it, mixed with whatever main dish he's prepping. There's large puffs of pink something resting on a pan in the corner, a thick brown sauce that he scraped cubed veggies into, and something else that's blocked by his frame. It all smells heavenly.

My mouth is watering by the time he sets a large plate in front of me with one of those pink bread rolls on one side, the sauce and cubed veggies on the other. I smell more spices and heat, and it's agony to wait for him to sit next to me at the countertop. 

"Is it rude to just dig in?"

"Absolutely it is," he says, smiling. "But we're not at a paid dining establishment." He motions to my plate. "Eat."

This dish reminds me of curry but with bread instead of rice, and smells the same. Kri hasn't laid out any utensils as most ento eat with their hands, so I tear a piece of the pink bread off, dip it in the sauce, and pop it in my mouth. 

Spices and flavor dance over my tongue, things I can't name but are still delicious. It pairs with the bread so well, I'm barely through the first mouthful before I'm shoving a second bite in my face.

Kri eats opposite me, slow and careful, trying to casually glimpse up at me like he's checking in on me, and I cover my smile around another bite of food. He's worried, I can tell, and it's kind of cute.

I wolf down my food and say nothing, and normally I would feel bad about the silence, but Kri doesn't say anything either. 

"It was acceptable?"

"Don't kid yourself, it was delicious. I'm so full," I say, patting my stomach for emphasis.

It's not just the food that keeps me quiet. I also don't want to talk about how I feel. Being emotionally honest makes me anxious, makes me think of all the ways it could be used against me. I don't want to scare off Kri with all the issues I have. He listened to me in Igrien, but how many more times will he listen to me say, "Oh, Stephen made me this way," before he walks out?

But as we both set our plates aside and sit awkwardly in the kitchen, I realize that this is it. That if I want something to happen with Kri, I have to grab it with both hands myself. Even so, I still fiddle with my hands as I speak up.

"So uh, is this the part where we talk about feelings?"

Kri tilts his head, probably picking up on my mood, and quietly says, "If you'd like."

"Not really," I laugh, nerves making the sound shaky. "But I just want to know that we're on the same page-- that we're at a complete understanding," I correct when Kri narrows his eyes in confusion.

I focus my attention to a spot on the table. "I'm not good at words but I want…this. Us-- something…Something."

Even to my own ears it sounds horrible, and I grimace. God damn it, I should've thought about it before we got here. But all I have is feelings, emotions that push at my heart and flood my senses. I don't know how to describe my anxiety any better than describing the color red. Sometimes it feels like too much, like if I acknowledge anything it'll turn into too much to handle.

Kri only stares at me, giving me more space to talk, and my teeth creak as I grind them together anxiously. "Okay, it's your turn."

And then he looks away, down at the table, at his hands. His expression shutters off, a blank face, then darkens into something profoundly sad, and it's like I can hear his thoughts across the table. I appreciate the romp in the lab, Cass, but this just isn't for me. You're too fucked up, and I'm not about to deal with all of that. Except he'd say it nicer, with bigger words. Taking a shaking inhale, I hold my breath as the tightness of anxiety starts to coil around my chest and wraps fingers over my brain.

Then Kri sighs, a heavy movement of his shoulders, and he looks back up at me. "I admit that my thoughts are scattered. Between wanting to breathe you in like oxygen, and questioning whether I've earned the right to inhale. You've already bared your feelings for me, and I did not tell you mine at the time as I was--" he pauses to think, then huffs a laugh, "distracted. But I believe I have words for you now."

He reaches across the small table, taking my hands in his. He's warm as always, and his thumb rubs the back of my hand comfortingly. The tightness in my chest eases, ever so slightly.

"Cassie," he says. "I have a great many feelings for you, some of which I'm prepared for, and others that frighten me deeply. I am well aware that I come with a history, and the weight that it implies. But if you'll allow me your patience and understanding, I'd very much like to explore what a relationship with you would look like."

It's so earnest, so bare, that I'm hit with a wave of emotion that completely drowns out any other thoughts I have in my head. I want to lean forward and kiss his hands. I want to vault over the table and climb into his lap. "Jesus, did you prepare that?"

His eyes widen a fraction, like he didn't expect me to respond like that, and then he nods. "When confronted with interpersonal problems, I know that I tend to recede into myself and minimize the words leaving my mouth, and I'm trying not to do that so we're, what did you say, on the same page? You deserve my transparency in this, especially considering how I've been acting. I was trying to push you away when you wanted to be close, and you deserve so much better than that."

There's so much he's saying without saying it, and I can analyze why he thinks I deserve better, or inspect why all I want to do is jump over the table and give him the ride of his life, but my brain only latches onto my own insecurity. "You prepared a speech for me and all I had was, like, five words."

With a free hand, Kri rustles around in his bag and produces a small square of paper, folded very neatly. "I also wrote down several non-starters in case you realized that you're too good for me, so I also had a handful of words prepared."

It's said so casually, so matter-of-fact, that I can't help but snort. It breaks the tension in the room and my smile feels easier than before, keeping eye contact isn't as difficult.

"And to be fair," he continues. "You said more than enough the other day. I was worried that you'd take it all back."

Something clicks into place in my head, a small, flighty piece of Kri's psyche that I've been seeing without noticing. That despite his attitude, or ego, or anything else, he still craves a form of validation, still vies for approval. And I desperately, so desperately want to know what he's afraid of. But that's a whole other conversation, a heavy and upsetting one. One that I don't think either of us are up for right now.

So I squeeze his hands in mine. "I…really like you," I say. "I think we just need to get better at showing it. I guess we could…figure it out together?"

"That sounds lovely."

Kri tries to clean up on his own, but I butt my way in when he starts to wash the dishes. I'm off to his left, drying and setting them aside, and we fall into a good rhythm that reminds me of his time helping in the lab. We don't need to speak to fill space, I'm guided by his movements, and he's guided by me.

This is nice. Domestic, even. My heart stutters at the idea of doing this again, of sharing a space, of being welcomed into his home.

As I'm drying my hands on a towel, Kri steps around and in front of me, close enough that I can smell fresh water, and I look up at him and offer a warm smile. Taking my chin in one hand, he presses a kiss to my lips, chaste and simple and wholly perfect. This is our first kiss as a couple, I realize as his other hands carefully take the towel from me and rest it on the counter. 

The first of many, hopefully. 

Is that sappy? I don't care, as long as they keep happening. I press up to continue the kiss, a deep-seated need shocking through me at the soft noise he makes against my lips. 

Then Kri searches my face, and I hear the chitter of his wings as they flutter against his back. "You're more than welcome to stay," he says, voice low, leaving no room for misinterpretation.

It physically pains me to be responsible and say, "I have to clock in tomorrow."

He nods once, decisive, and quickly pecks my cheek again before straightening. "I will fly you home, then."

"Sounds goo-- wait what?"

Kri doesn't answer me, only walks past me and into the living room.

Surely, surely he can't mean literally, I continue to think as I grab my stuff and we head out the door.

But sure enough, we walk outside and he picks me up like I'm a princess, something that still shocks me that he can do, and off we go.

I've never seen the Outpost from above, and it's kind of beautiful. I can trace the lights of the walking paths and the hovercar roads, I see single rooms lit from the buildings, other residents up late like me. And outside the border of the Outpost is the pure, unfiltered landscape of Summanus, with its primordial trees and glowing underbrush, like the ground itself is framing us with light. I've seen Kri fly faster, he must be slowing himself for my benefit. And Kri is glowing too, not nearly as bright as the electronics around us, but more subtle, softer. It's still that pale blue, rivers of light lining his chitinous plating. I want to trace them with my fingers, before I remember what it does to him.

We land in front of my building, so gently that Kri's feet don't make a sound, and he sets me down just as carefully.

"Thanks," I mutter, suddenly shy and awkward. I feel like he's bringing me home from prom and it's past curfew. I clear my throat. "Thank you for dinner. Not bad for a first date."

With his two lower arms, he grabs my hands and brings them together. "You will have to decide the next one, then."

I huff an exhale, smiling up at him. "Okay."

He smiles back, soft, relaxed, totally content. Dark eyes search my face, and even in the low light I can make out my reflection in the inky blackness. Two hands come up to cup my cheeks, fingers wrapping around to the base of my skull, as Kri leans down and gently kisses me.

I tilt my head and sigh into it as my eyes fall shut, wishing I were taller so he wouldn't have to bend down as far and I could press up against him. This is still good, though, he can still rest his other hands over my hips, and I can wind my arms over his shoulders. 

This is all going to hit me later, a hurricane of repressed feelings. It's going to be a lot of good emotions though, I can feel them boiling behind my chest. Giddyness and arousal alongside anxiety and dread. I'm both excited and terrified of what could happen.

I can still feel the warmth coming off of him even when he leans back. His hands stay on my face, steady and comforting, and he leans forward and quickly kisses me again. 

"I should go before I follow you inside," he says around a laugh, and I nod sadly. 

"Or before I drag you in." 

He chuckles, low and sexy, and squeezes my hands. 

"Goodnight Cassie." 

"Goodnight Kri," I mumble, and he steps back, dropping my hands from his.

I watch him take off before going inside, and I couldn't wipe the smile from my face if I tried.

Chapter 13 >>

[themori-grimoire]

Mori’s Black Salt

This is my personal go-to recipe for Black Salt. It makes a small/medium sized batch, which is fine for personal use. I find it to be very effective and use it sparingly whenever I do need it, because a pinch is often enough.

INGREDIENTS:

Sea Salt (150g)

Lemon juice.

Activated Charcoal.*

A sigil on a piece of paper (I would recommend a general protection sigil, or one that repels negative energy).

Black pepper.

Myrrh incense ashes (if you make your own incense intended to cleanse, protect, purify or banish, use that).

TOOLS:

Pestle and mortar.

Funnel.

Jar.

Pipette (optional but useful).

METHOD:

Preparation: Safely burn your sigil and keep the ashes aside. Wait for them to cool.

Put your salt into a pestle and mortar first, followed by the other dry ingredients.

Use the mortar to grind it down into a finer version of the original mixture (which will have been quite chunky thanks to the sea salt).

Add two or 3 drops of lemon juice, and mix your salt well. It will make the salt a little bit clumpy at first, but after enough mixing it will be fine.

Let the salt sit for a little while before transferring it into a jar.

Use a funnel to pour the salt into a jar that has an airtight lid. You need it to be airtight to preserve your salts and stop moisture from getting in.

Store them in a dark, cool, dry place.

*Please take care when handling activated charcoal. It can be very messy and clings to everything. It can also stain.

If you like my content and would like to help me keep providing free stuff for my gorgeous Ghoul Gang, you can tip your witch here: Paypal.

[lamiasage]

Your work reminds me of Euclase, who used to be in the fandom long ago before she went pro. Except it looks like you do paintovers and smudging, which is like Petite-Madame, another great artist who used to be in the fandom. You fit in the middle, but either way it's lovely to see beautiful art being made for our favorite characters.

Oh hey, thank you! 😊💜

I have been in fandom when they were around still and I definitely took some inspiration from their art! I admire Euclase's painterly soft but still very precise realism and the work of color/glow in her later spn paintings and I have definitely looked at a few of her tutorials to figure out my own style (this one for example). I also always loved Petite-Madame's Destiel art, especially the highlighting, and well, I will never forget her beautiful Twist and Shout fanart.

About the latter part of the ask, I actually don't do smudging at all :D I tried it once here, but the smudge tool really overwhelms me. I instead blend with the pipette tool and a soft brush (or, if I keep it more painterly, with a textured brush). It just personally works better for me! And about the paintovers, I actually had to google what that means, but I think as I understand it I don't do that either (I think?) xD I did paintovers back in 2014/2015 when I first eased my way into digital art but did then stop painting completely since it felt like I was cheating and it catapulted me into a 5-year long art block until I felt brave enough to pick up a pen again (sorry if that's too personal and I am being awkward) 😅 I do sometimes stay very close to a reference or a screenshot of the show but I don't paint over it, I just try to recreate it and make it more pretty (in my personal perspective, that's of course very subjective) :D I also try to "loosen" up more with the 'realism' aspect of things lately, and just keep it more textured and painterly, or do some doodles and sketches, and go more nuts with the colors, because I always have the feeling that my perfectionism limits me in what I allow myself to paint (I say while I work on a painting that references a screenshot of the show, but I am trying, I swear, if you look at my latest art! Sometimes a more 'realistic' attempt at painting sneaks into it but I definitely want to be more flexible and upload more stylized stuff as well 😂)

I think when we are talking about styles, I also have to mention other awesome artists in this fandom that I take a big chunk of inspiration from and that influence my own style and processes as an artist :D For example, Winchester-Reload, who obviously is just 💚💙 with her paintings and shading (those cheekbones!!! the beards!!!) and especially the facial expressions and emotions transferred by her art, Diminuel with the highlights and blush and absolutely adorable cuteness, and Clickbaitcowboy with his peak gender art and the way he draws bodies and does stylized illustrations that look very realistic at the same time (how??? sir your art is so pretty). Also Scenteddean, Artmetica, C-Kaeru, Feredir, Werepires, Free-To-Be-Impaled, Naughtystiel, and so so so many more artists who created beautiful art for this fandom and who are just so talented <3

Sorry if my answer was a little bit on the long side! Again, thank you so much. I think it's such a great compliment to be associated with Euclase's and Petite-Madame's styles whose art I definitely looked up to growing up in the fandom 😳 And thank you for being so lovely, I hope my 4 am answering attempt does your ask justice 😭💜

[seven-thewanderer]

oh my gosh I just realized I never shared Pipette

Here’s Pipette, my DA oc

They’re a rat (or mouse, I actually never decided XD), and they did puppet shows with Sun and sometimes Moon. If they needed extra hands for a puppet show, they would help. Then again, they were always the main one for puppet shows because they have the ability to impersonate voices. They can change whatever puppet they have on their hands, but the tail one stays the same, because the tail one’s actually a robot as well (it sounds like them, but higher pitched)

Here’s the reference image for them!

(Also their name isn’t pronounced like that thing used in science classes to transfer liquids from one container to other, the ‘Pip’ part of their name is pronounced just like the ‘Pip’ in Pipsqueak)

[fbwzoo]

@ravenrae8 asked "How do you change the water with them being so small?"

So easy water changes are just taking water from the middle chamber or empty drum, so I don't catch any zoea. That works if I just need to reduce overall toxins in the water, like this morning. It's all connected through the mesh in the drums.

If I need to get waste out of the occupied drum, like sheds or food, I turn the filter off so the zoea sink, then shine a flashlight at the front so they move towards it. That helps get most of them out of the way of the suction.

Still likely to get a number in the waste water, so I settled on my system for that with my second change last night. Waste water gets siphoned into a bucket. I use a coral feeding suction pipe to get the bulk of the zoea out of the bucket, using flashlight to help gather them together. They go into a Tupperware I have. Then I do another round of follow the flashlight to gather them again, and use a pipette to transfer to a small jar. Then they go back in the kreisel!

Liking this system a lot so far. It's not really taking long, it's not a major strain, and I'm getting almost all of the zoea out of the waste water, without putting much waste water back in the tank.

Last time I just used the Tupperware to siphon into & spent entirely too long trying to find and transfer all the babies I could find. With 6 jars to do water changes on multiple times a day.... it was exhausting. This time is working much better so far!

[forensicfield]

How to Collect Blood Specimen from Crime Scene?

Clean (ideally sterile) syringes or disposable pipettes should be used to collect liquid blood, which should then be transferred to a clean (preferably sterile) test tube. With a clean spatula, a blood clot may be moved to a clean test tube. To absorb....

(more…)

[microlitseo]

Common Pipetting Mistakes & How to Avoid Them

Pipetting is one common task that’s performed in many laboratories, essential for ensuring precise and accurate results in experiments. However, even experienced scientists can fall prey to common pipetting mistakes that can compromise their work. After learning the necessary pitfalls and how to avoid them it will become significant to maintain the integrity of your data. Here are some common pipetting mistakes and tips on how to avoid them. 

1. Incorrect Selection of Pipette 

Mistake: Using the wrong type of pipette for your application can lead to inaccuracies. For instance, using a large-volume pipette to measure small volumes can result in significant errors. 

Solution: Always select a pipette that is appropriate for the volume you need to dispense. For small volumes, use a micropipette technology that’s designed for that range. Check the pipette’s specifications to ensure it matches your requirements. 

2. Not Pre-Wetting the Pipette Tip

Mistake: Failing to pre-wet the pipette tip before use can lead to inconsistent volumes due to evaporation or retention of liquid in the tip. 

Solution: Pre-wet the pipette tip by aspirating and dispensing the liquid several times before taking your final measurement. This helps to condition the tip and ensures consistent volume delivery.

3. Incorrect Pipetting Angle

Mistake: Holding the pipette at an incorrect angle while aspirating or liquid handling can cause air bubbles and inaccurate measurements.

Solution: Hold the pipette vertically (90 degrees) when aspirating liquids and at a 45-degree angle when dispensing. This minimizes air bubble formation and ensures accurate volume transfer. 

4. Plunging Too Quickly

Mistake: Rapidly depressing and releasing the plunger can introduce air bubbles into the sample, leading to inaccurate measurements.

Solution: Operate the plunger slowly and steadily. When aspirating, depress the plunger to the first stop, immerse the tip in the liquid, and release the plunger slowly. Similarly, dispense the liquid smoothly and consistently.

5. Immersing the Tip Too Deeply

Mistake: Immersing the pipette tip too deeply into the liquid can cause excess liquid to adhere to the outside of the tip, leading to volume errors.

Solution: Only immerse the tip 2-3 mm below the liquid surface when aspirating. For larger volumes, immerse slightly deeper, but avoid submerging the entire tip.

6. Using the Wrong Tip

Mistake: Using non-compatible or low-quality tips can cause inaccurate measurements and compromise the integrity of your pipette.

Solution: Always use high-quality, compatible tips recommended by the pipette manufacturer. Ensure the tips fit securely and are free from defects.

7. Not Using the Reverse Pipetting Technique for Viscous Liquids

Mistake: Pipetting viscous or foamy liquids with the standard pipetting technique can result in inaccurate volumes due to retention of liquid in the tip.

Solution: Use the reverse pipetting technique for viscous or foamy liquids. Aspirate more than the desired volume and dispense the exact amount needed. This technique helps to minimize errors and improve accuracy.

8. Inconsistent Pipetting Pressure

Mistake: Applying inconsistent pressure on the plunger can lead to variability in the volumes dispensed.

Solution: Maintain a consistent, gentle pressure on the plunger. Practice pipetting with a steady hand to develop muscle memory for consistent pressure application.

9. Neglecting Regular Calibration

Mistake: Failing to pipettes calibration regularly can result in inaccurate measurements due to wear and tear or mechanical issues.

Solution: Schedule regular calibration and maintenance checks for your pipettes. Follow the manufacturer’s guidelines and document calibration results to ensure accuracy over time.

10. Ignoring Environmental Factors

Mistake: Environmental factors such as temperature and humidity can affect pipetting accuracy, especially for volatile liquids.

Solution: Perform pipetting in a controlled environment where temperature and humidity are stable. Allow liquids to equilibrate to room temperature before pipetting.

Conclusion

Accurate pipetting is crucial for reliable experimental results. However, by being aware of common pipetting mistakes and following best practices, you can improve your pipetting technique and ensure the accuracy and reproducibility of your work. Regular training and practice, combined with proper maintenance of equipment, will help you avoid these pitfalls and achieve precise results in your laboratory experiments.

[mecl]

Ensuring Accuracy: Pipette Calibration, Burette Calibration, and Beaker Calibration in Dubai, UAE

Maintaining the integrity of your laboratory measurements is crucial for reliable research and quality control. This is where pipette calibration, burette calibration, and beaker calibration become essential practices. Dubai, UAE, boasts a range of calibration service providers to ensure your volumetric instruments meet the highest standards.

The Importance of Calibration

Volumetric instruments like pipettes, burettes, and beakers are the workhorses of many laboratories. Over time, due to wear and tear or even minor manufacturing inconsistencies, their accuracy can drift. Regular calibration helps identify and rectify these deviations, guaranteeing the validity of your measurements.

Pipette Calibration: Pipettes are used for transferring precise volumes of liquids. Inaccurate pipetting can significantly impact your results. Calibration ensures each pipette delivers the intended volume within acceptable tolerances.

Burette Calibration: Burettes are used for dispensing variable volumes of liquids during titrations. Precise burette calibration safeguards the accuracy of your titrations, leading to reliable data.

Beaker Calibration: While not as critical for some applications, calibrating beakers ensures they accurately reflect the volume they contain. This is particularly important for preparing precise solutions.

Benefits of Regular Calibration

Enhanced Data Integrity: Accurate measurements are the foundation of reliable research and quality control. Regular calibration minimizes errors and ensures data integrity.

Compliance with Regulations: Many industries have regulations mandating regular calibration of laboratory instruments. Calibration certificates serve as proof of compliance.

Cost Savings: Inaccurate measurements can lead to wasted materials, failed experiments, and even product recalls. Calibration helps prevent these costly issues.

Finding Calibration Services in Dubai, UAE

Several reputable laboratories in Dubai, UAE, offer pipette calibration, burette calibration, and beaker calibration services. When choosing a provider, consider factors like:

Accreditation: Look for laboratories accredited by a recognized body like ENAS (Emirates National Accreditation System).

Calibration Capabilities: Ensure the provider can calibrate your specific instruments and volume ranges.

Turnaround Time: Consider the time it takes for calibration and the return of your instruments.

Cost: Calibration costs can vary depending on the complexity of the instruments and the volume ranges involved.

By partnering with a reliable calibration service provider in Dubai, UAE, you can ensure your pipettes, burettes, and beakers deliver the precise measurements your research and quality control processes demand.

[labequipmentindia1]

Clinical Laboratory Lab Equipment Manufacturers, Suppliers and Exporters in India

The clinical laboratory is vital to a hospital's ability to treat patients. Bodily fluids from patients are analyzed for their chemical makeup and evidence of disease. The high level of complex equipment does require some hospitals to obtain service contracts for the support of clinical lab equipment manufacturers in India.

A Complete Clinical Laboratory Lab Equipment List and Their Uses

Disposable Lancet:

Reliable Disposable Lancets for Accurate Blood Sampling

Convenient and Safe Disposable Lancets for Medical Procedures

High-Quality Disposable Lancets for Diabetic Testing

Pipette Tip:

Precision Pipette Tip for Laboratory Accuracy

Durable Pipette Tips for Reliable Liquid Handling

Premium-quality Quality tips for Scientific Research

Packing Envelope:

Secure Packing Envelope for Safe Shipping

Strong and Tear-Resistant Packing Envelopes for Mailing

Quality Packing Envelopes for Shipping Documents and Items

Storage Box:

Versatile Storage Box for Organized Spaces

Durable Storage Boxes for Safekeeping Values

Space-Saving Storage Boxes for Home and Office Use

Transfer Pipette:

Precise Transfer Pipette for Accurate Liquid Transfer

Easy-to-Use Transfer Pipettes for Laboratory Applications

Reliable Transfer Pipettes for Scientific Experimentation

Digital Scale:

Accurate Digital Scale for Precise Measurements

High-Quality Digital Scales for Various Applications

Versatile Digital Scales for Home, Kitchen, and Laboratory Use

How to use them and where:

Disposable Lancet:

Usage: Clean the finger with an alcohol swab. Twist off the cap of the lancet. Press the lancet firmly against the fingertip and activate it. Dispose of the lancet properly.

Where: healthcare facilities, diabetic patients at home.

Pipette Tip:

Usage: Attach the pipette tip to the pipette. Immerse the tip into the liquid to be transferred. Depress and release the plunger to draw or dispense the liquid.

Where: laboratories, medical facilities, research institutions.

Packing Envelope:

Usage: Insert items/documents into the envelope. Seal the envelope securely using the adhesive strip. Address and affix postage if needed.

Where: offices, shipping departments, postal services.

Storage Box:

Usage: Place items to be stored inside the box. Close the lid securely. Stack boxes for efficient storage.

Where: homes, offices, warehouses.

Transfer Pipette:

Usage: Squeeze the bulb of the pipette to draw liquid. Release the bulb to transfer the liquid into the desired container. Dispose of or clean the pipette after use.

Where: laboratories, medical facilities, scientific research centers.

Digital Scale:

Usage: Place the object to be weighed on the scale's platform. Read the weight displayed on the digital screen. Adjust the settings as needed.

Where: kitchens, laboratories, retail businesses.

[fison265]

Multi channel pipette

A multi-channel pipette is a laboratory instrument used to accurately and efficiently transfer small volumes of liquid simultaneously across multiple channels. It is commonly employed in various scientific disciplines, including molecular biology, biochemistry, microbiology, and drug discovery.