#type of pipette

[microlitseo]

A Comprehensive Guide to Choosing the Right Liquid Handling Instrument

In any laboratory setting, liquid handling is a critical process that directly impacts the accuracy, efficiency, and reliability of experiments. Whether it's for research, diagnostics, or pharmaceutical development, choosing the right liquid handling instrument is essential for precise results. With a variety of options available, selecting the best one for your needs can be overwhelming. This guide will help you navigate the key factors to consider when choosing the right liquid handling instrument.

 Accuracy and Precision

Accuracy refers to how close the measured volume is to the true volume, while precision relates to the reproducibility of measurements. Both factors are critical in maintaining the quality of your experiments.

For routine tasks, manual pipettes may suffice as long as they’re calibrated regularly.

For high-precision tasks like genomic sequencing or drug discovery, electronic pipettes provide better consistency and reduce human variability. 

 Volume Range and Flexibility

Different experiments require varying volumes of liquid to be transferred, so selecting an instrument with an appropriate volume range is important.

Micropipettes are ideal for small volumes (1-1000 μL), making them perfect for applications like PCR and enzyme assays.

Bottle-top dispensers can handle larger volumes and are useful for bulk liquid handling tasks, such as transferring reagents or buffers. 

Opt for an instrument that offers flexibility in volume range to accommodate various experimental needs.

Ergonomics and User Comfort

Frequent pipetting can lead to repetitive strain injuries, especially in high-volume laboratories. Ergonomics play a major role in ensuring that the instrument is comfortable and easy to use over extended periods. When choosing a liquid handling instrument: 

Look for lightweight designs and comfortable grips, especially if it’s a manual pipette.

Electronic pipettes with minimal button pressing can reduce strain on your hands.

Consider features like adjustable volume dials, which make it easier to switch between different volumes with ease. 

 Automation and Throughput Needs

If your lab requires high throughput or your experiments involve repetitive tasks, investing in an automated liquid handler could be worthwhile. Automation reduces the risk of human error, increases reproducibility, and frees up lab technicians to focus on more complex tasks. However, for labs with limited budgets or smaller workloads, semi-automated pipetting systems can offer a good balance between manual and automated handling.

Contamination Control

Cross-contamination can ruin experiments, especially in sensitive applications like molecular biology or microbiology. Choosing the right type of pipette can help minimize contamination risks:

Disposable tips are a must for avoiding sample carryover.

Some pipettes come with filter tips to prevent aerosols from contaminating samples or pipettes.

Positive displacement pipettes are ideal for handling viscous, volatile, or dense liquids where contamination is a higher risk.

Cost Considerations

Budget is always a factor, but it’s essential to weigh the cost of the instrument against the potential benefits it can offer. While manual pipettes are more cost-effective, investing in electronic or automated systems can improve accuracy, reduce human error, and save time in the long run. Consider the return on investment (ROI) when purchasing advanced equipment.

Maintenance and Calibration

Regular maintenance and calibration are crucial for ensuring that your liquid handling equipment continues to perform accurately. Instruments with easy-to-maintain designs or self-calibration features can save time and resources. Additionally, some manufacturers offer calibration services, which can be a valuable support option.

Conclusion

Choosing the right liquid handling instrument is more than just picking a tool off the shelf—it’s about understanding the demands of your specific lab work, considering factors like accuracy, volume range, ergonomics, and contamination control. By carefully evaluating these elements, you can select an instrument that not only meets your current needs but also adapts to future demands, helping you achieve consistent and reliable results in the lab.

Whether you’re running simple assays or conducting complex research, the right liquid handling tool can make all the difference.

[groundzerosgirlfriend]

Traits they would want in a partner:

Senku Ishigami

(This unedited so dont @ me)

Firstly. IF you ever manage to get into a relationship with the man known as Senku Ishigami you probably deserve some kind of award for having to deal with this man’s crazed scientist bullshit every day. He literally doesn’t change one bit, he's still the same Senku that’s blunt, mean, hates physical affection and mushy words. The reward for the least romantic boyfriend goes to *drumroll effect* SENKU!

Senku probably prefers someone that’s he known for a really long time I’m talking since he was at least in junior high but the further back the better and if you were in the science club with him back in high school fantastic. Meeting new people is one thing but actually having romantic feelings for them is a whole other ball game. It’s easier and less work when liking someone who already knows him inside out and vice versa instead of having to do the whole cliché ‘get to know each other’ façade over and over again.

Also, I feel like Senku has only had like maybe 2 crushes in his entire lifetime: one was some famous scientist he saw on tv talking at a press conference at the head of the table in a room full of men and the other one was in his first year of junior high when he was bested at a mathlete competition (in his defense he pulled the most brutal all-nighter the night before while working on some insane project and messed up the placement of a decimal point) by a girl who wore the chunkiest pair of glasses known to man. He quickly got over both as he had learned that realistic the possibility of this famous scientist (who was also married) falling in love with a prepubescent boy was damn near impossible (and illegal) and the girl he liked in school ended up coming out as a lesbian when she and another girl were caught kissing each other's cheek during break time.

Senku probably likes individuals that are independent and self-sufficient like Kohaku (girl boss!!) People that are clingy and to needy are not his forte’ and makes his face sneer or deadpan brutally. He doesn’t like physical affection or words of affirmation on most days he’s more of a quality time (slaving over more experiments with you doing physical labor) and gift giving (making you little trinkets from his science experiments). I mean it’s pretty obvious remember that one episode where Senku’s own dad was about to give a long emotional speech on the record but stopped because he knew Senku would ew at it. So if you’re somebody that thrives off of praise and attention then *opens the door* please see yourself out respectfully because this man is not going to give it to you. You'll be like a little dried up cactus begging for attention.

Senku likes cleanliness and organization. Senku himself is very clean and hygienic. People that are not are usually big turn off and and an even bigger *thumbs down* for him. He’s also organized despite how his experiments and projects seem to be all over the place they’re not. He knows exactly where everything is, the exact millimeter of, every beaker, of every pipette, of every pencil. It's called organized chaos. If one thing is moved without his consent or worse, his knowledge the entire room is thrown off and he has a hard time finding anything for the next 12 hours.

Personal opinion here but I feel like Senku has as dislike for bugs. Like sure. Bugs are cool to explore and on a scientific level sure but anything other than that he’s not really cheering for joy about it. I also feel like he despises getting sick, like literally any type of sickness whether it’s the common influenzas virus or even a slight stomach bug. He’s miserable and irritated and it takes a really long time to get better because although the scientist in him tells him he needs to rest the stubborn workaholic in him tells him he’ll be fine to do a few minutes of work (which ends up turning into hours-please make this man rest🙏🙏). So if you’re the type where you’re unhygienic to the point of constantly being sick or attracting like actual bugs then either you’re going to have pick up the slack on your hygiene or leave realll quick.

Senku also likes people that smart either intellectually or when they’re witty and have a sharp mouth. If they can understand and even better add in their own input when he’s going on and on about different types of minerals sharing his excitement when they make a scientific breakthrough in the stone world he thinks if he didn't believe marriage was a social construction he'd get down on one knee with some sparkly rock he *borrowed* from Chrome's rock collection. Now even if his partner isn’t all into the science *blah blah* cells *blah blah* quantum mechanics and Schrodinger's equation a partner who is sharp on his mouth will suffice jussst as well. It's makes him snicker the tiniest bit turning his head away so no one can see the grin covered on his mouth covered by his hands. People who are blunt and not softspoken are a *big thumbs* in Senku’s book why would someone who has something to say not say it? A waste of time in his head.

Senku likes a willingness to learn even if it's just about they like every now and again. He knows that science is a high broad topic that covers from up into the vacuum known as space or as to the deep as the aquatic volcanoes known in the deep blue ocean. And he knows about it all in that gorgeous brain of his. In Senku's mind everything thing revolves around science, walking-the physiology of cells to tissues, tissues to muscles and neurological brain activity to make voluntary commands, art- the primary colors created by the art starting from things like mud, bugs and fruits, oh chemicals- easy it all starts with the period table of elements starting from hydrogen all the way down to Ogganseon. Anything you like any hobby you enjoy has to involve some kind of science and if you ask some him some questions about how it works or at least how it originates he knows that somewhere in you have the curiosity of a scientist.

Likes athleticism....maybe? Honestly, I'm kind of unsure about this one because on one hand I can see him liking people that are athletic and physically fit not because he thinks that being skinny is better or anything like that but because he can definitely use you like a horse (do yall know like those short mini scenes between the episodes where Senku like dresses up as different jobs imagine him as a farmer with a straw hat on his head in overalls a piece of straw in his mouth and a riding crop in one hand whew😩😩😩) for a lot of physical labor don't worry he'll return your hard work with a treat of your choice but be prepared he will complain about your laziness and wanting to help 'humanity' but on the other hand I could see him liking people that get winded and red faced after walking up stairs or carrying a bucket of water just like he does (extra points if it's a guy like him) because if you're both low stamina and low endurance you can't tease him about his athletic abilities. So a tie maybe.

Lastly, LOVES a strong will and determination he knows that starting the stone world back to modern humanity from scratch is no easy feat hell even he has made a few mistakes while trying to figure himself out. But what he does know is that science is filled with trail and error (mostly error) and it takes a loooot of time before you actually get what you're looking for so if you're the type to give up easily after failing once or twice and turn your back to his goal of turning the world back into the modern society he once had then....I'm sorry to say it probably won't work out for you there's only so many motivational speeches this man can give before he gets annoyed and just lets you give up without any reassurance (don't worry he doesn't take it personal), besides he still has people like Chrome, Sukia, and Kohaku to help.

@instanthideoutsalad I know you said you wanted Soft Boyfriend Head cannons of Senku but I'm so uninspired with those at the moment so please accept my humble offering of this drabble I made🙏🙏🙏🙏. I swear I'll do it soon it soon. 😪😪

[lostpiewrites]

HIIII can you write sugishita boyfriend headanons?

thank you a lot

a/n : let's add endo too and make this the part 3 of bofurin bois bf headcannons. I seriously wanted to add Takiishi too because usually i write 3 characters in one part but i couldn't find anything to write about him , i can't see him as a bf sorry. 😭 Anyways , let's gaurr~~ Also part 1 and part 2. These are not really connected in the storyline and can be read as oneshots.

Bofurin Boys As Bfs (Pt.3)

Ft : Sugishita Kyotaro , Yamato Endo.

Sugishita Kyotarou

This man worships you. In literal meaning. Not sure if you are more important to him than Umemiya , but you can be sure you are at LEAST on the same scale if you managed to date him.

He doesn't talk , he just does things and expects you to keep silent about them. Will strangle you (not seriously ) if you tease him for his love language or point out sth he did for you. But unfortunately he is a big no-no for those of you who likes words of affirmation. He probably has non-verbal autism. I am sorry.

Helps you with anything you do. He is the type of bf who will take a soda can from your hands , agressively open it , immerse the pipette and give it back to you. Or randomly give you a snack because he felt like you are hungry. And you are like "how tf does he know ?"

He doesn't need to try protecting you , everybody flees away when they see him beside you , lurking like a demon. He is kinda proud of himself for it but would never tell it out loud.

Sometimes , objects can't escape his wrath and get thrown away to somewhere , preferably and most likely to sbd's head. So you have to replace furniture every few months.

When you introduce yourself to other furin bois ,because he himself would never lol, he growls in embarrassment and flees away like Hiragi avoiding Umemiya. They are shocked to say the least. Sugishita ? Gf ? Well that was sth worth writing down in history books.

I have told this before but i will stick to it for the rest of my life. Umemiya and 4 kings watch him with starry heart eyes when he chooses to spend time with you instead of his garden. Umemiya will clap him behind his back and ask him to introduce their dearest sister-in-law.

Yamato Endo

This man is handsome okay ? So you two will be just sitting down and he will have you looking at him like he is an ancient Greek God sculpture. Or you will be mindlessly dragging your fingers along his tattoos and he looks at you fondly while trying to not laugh at how adorable your focused pout looks and how ticklish it feels.

Speaking of tattoos , this man would legitimately ask you to draw sth you liked or would take an iconic text you have sent him and have it tattooed.

He is an obsessive lover as we have seen him around Takiishi. He would probably stay around even if you were toxic or a cheater. He just loves to feel intense emotions directed towards him so when you say you love him , he is at your feet no matter what.

Before the Noroshi arc , you had a twisted relationship with Furin because of him and Takiishi around. But afterwards , also thanks to your efforts to make it okay between the two groups that have parted ways long ago , you guys are getting along well. Hopefully.

His daily workout includes carrying you or Takiishi around. You often fight him for your bf because you can't decide who gets the piggy ride.

[ssa-danhotchner]

The thread that binds us | Aaron Hotchner x reader

summary: after years of friendship, missed chances, and unspoken feelings, Aaron Hotchner and the reader drift apart. Life takes them in different directions—promises left unfulfilled, words left unsaid.

cw: fem reader, non BAU reader, mention of Haley's death, emotional angst, missed chances, grief

wc: 9.6k

note: the years are not exact

english isn't my first language so please be kind! i recently watched Love, Rosie so I have to write this

You met Aaron Hotchner in high school—though “met” wasn’t quite the right word. It was more like fate threw you together in the most chaotic way possible.

The first day of junior year, you showed up late to homeroom, and the only seat left was next to him. He had his arms crossed, his black hoodie pulled over his head, and a bored expression on his face. He looked like the kind of guy who never broke rules and always finished his homework on time.

“Great,” you muttered under your breath as you slid into the chair.

He glanced sideways at you, arching an eyebrow. “Something wrong with sitting here?”

“Not yet,” you said with a smirk, pulling out your notebook.

He rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything.

It wasn’t until later that day in chemistry class that you found out how insufferable—and surprisingly fun—Aaron Hotchner could be.

“Do you even know how to hold a pipette?” you asked as you watched him fumble with the equipment.

“Do you?” he shot back, his dark eyes narrowing playfully.

“Yes, actually. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m brilliant.”

“Right,” he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “You’re so brilliant you couldn’t even find your way to homeroom on time.”

“Touché,” you muttered, grabbing the pipette from him. “Move over. Let me save you from yourself.”

He grinned then, wide and genuine, and it was the first time you realized Aaron Hotchner wasn’t as stoic as he seemed. In fact, he could be downright charming when he let his guard down.

𐙚

1984

You became friends after that, though it wasn’t immediate. Aaron wasn’t the type to let people in easily, but once he did, he was loyal to a fault.

By senior year, you were inseparable. People joked that you were attached at the hip, though neither of you ever corrected them. You weren’t dating—everyone assumed you were, but it wasn’t like that. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

“What are you doing after graduation?” Aaron asked one day as you sat in your usual spot on the bleachers, watching the soccer team practice.

“I don’t know,” you said, kicking at a loose piece of gravel. “College, I guess. You?”

“Probably the same,” he said, leaning back on his elbows. “My dad wants me to go to law school eventually.”

“Of course he does. You’ve got ‘future lawyer’ written all over you.”

“And what do you have written all over you?” he asked, glancing at you with a smirk.

“Trouble,” you said, grinning.

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” he said, laughing softly.

𐙚

Aaron had been thinking about asking you to prom for weeks.

It wasn’t that he assumed you’d say yes, but the idea of going with anyone else just didn’t make sense. You were his best friend. His person. The one who understood him better than anyone.

But there was this nagging doubt in the back of his mind—this quiet voice that whispered, Why would she want to go with you?

You were effortlessly charming, the kind of person who could light up a room just by walking into it. Meanwhile, Aaron was… well, Aaron. Reserved. Cautious. Always too serious for his own good.

So he hesitated.

And then, one afternoon, he found himself in the hallway with Haley Brooks—the golden girl of your high school, the one everyone adored. She was kind, beautiful, and, most importantly, she was interested in him.

He should’ve walked away. He should’ve told her he already had someone in mind.

But when she smiled at him and casually mentioned how she still didn’t have a date for prom, something inside him wavered.

He thought about how easy it would be.

How no one would question why Aaron Hotchner, the quiet, studious overachiever, was taking Haley Brooks to prom.

How maybe, just maybe, if he asked you and you said no, it wouldn’t hurt as much if he had never asked at all.

So instead of finding you after school like he had planned, he looked at Haley and said, “Do you want to go with me?”

𐙚

You smiled when Aaron and Haley arrived at prom together.

At least, you hoped it looked like a smile.

You had spent weeks waiting for him to ask you, certain that he would. Certain that, after all these years, it just made sense.

But he never did.

And when you saw him standing beside Haley in his perfectly pressed suit, his hand resting carefully at her waist, you understood why.

So you smiled. You laughed. You pretended it didn’t sting.

But when a slow song came on, and he met your eyes across the dance floor, something inside you twisted painfully.

Because for a brief moment, you saw it—hesitation. Regret.

And then, before either of you could move, Haley took his hand, pulling him toward the dance floor.

So you turned away, forcing yourself to do the same.

Later that night, when the party had begun to slow and most of the crowd had thinned, you felt a familiar presence behind you.

You turned, and there he was.

Aaron.

He looked unsure, like he was still trying to convince himself to be here.

“Dance with me?” he asked, his voice softer than usual.

You hesitated. “What about Haley?”

“She won’t mind,” he said quickly. “It’s just one dance.”

Just one dance.

So you let him take your hand, let him pull you onto the dance floor as another slow song started. His hands found your waist, your arms looped around his shoulders, and for a moment, it was like nothing had changed.

Like it was still just the two of you, the way it had always been.

You swayed in silence, and then—so softly it almost didn’t feel real—Aaron leaned in.

Your breath hitched.

And then his lips were on yours.

The kiss was hesitant, searching—like he was afraid of what it meant but couldn’t stop himself, either.

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his jacket, your heart hammering against your ribs. You had imagined this moment so many times, but nothing had ever felt quite like this.

But then, just as suddenly as it had started, he pulled away.

His eyes were wide, his breathing unsteady, and for a moment, you thought he was about to say something that would change everything.

But then his face shuttered.

“I—” He swallowed, shaking his head slightly. “That was a mistake.”

The words hit you like a slap.

Aaron must have seen something in your face because he immediately backpedaled. “I mean—I just—” He exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

Your stomach twisted, and you forced yourself to nod. “Right. Yeah.”

Neither of you spoke for a long moment. The song was still playing, but neither of you were dancing anymore.

You should’ve said something. Told him he was wrong. That it wasn’t a mistake, that it meant something.

But instead, you nodded again and forced a smile. “It’s fine, Aaron.”

He looked like he wanted to say something else—like he was desperate to—but instead, he just exhaled and gave you the smallest, saddest smile.

And that was that.

Neither of you brought it up again.

𐙚

You and Aaron didn’t fall apart after that night.

You still spent the summer together before college, still stayed up late talking, still laughed until your stomachs hurt.

And if sometimes his eyes lingered on you a little too long, or if you caught yourself remembering the feeling of his lips on yours—you both pretended it never happened.

Because that’s what Aaron wanted.

And if he could pretend, then so could you.

But deep down, you knew the truth.

It hadn’t been a mistake.

It had been a choice.

And maybe, one day, he would finally be brave enough to make a different one.

𐙚

The summer after graduation felt like borrowed time.

You and Aaron knew things were changing—college, distance, new experiences—but neither of you talked about it. Instead, you spent every moment together, stretching out the days like they could last forever.

Late-night drives with the windows down, the radio playing softly in the background. Sneaking into your old high school football field, lying on the grass, talking about nothing and everything. Silent moments where you’d catch him looking at you, like he was memorizing your face, just in case.

But no matter how hard you tried to ignore it, August crept closer.

“I don’t get why you’re going all the way to New York,” Aaron said one evening, his voice unusually tense. You were sitting on the swings at the park, your feet dragging in the dirt.

“Because I need to,” you said simply, staring up at the sky. “And you’re staying here because you need to.”

“Yeah,” he murmured. He was quiet for a long moment before he spoke again. “We’ll still talk all the time.”

You nodded, but a part of you didn’t believe it.

It wasn’t like you wanted to drift apart, but life had a way of pulling people in different directions.

𐙚

At first, you kept your promise.

You called constantly—late-night conversations that stretched into the early hours, emails filled with inside jokes and stories about your new lives. You told Aaron about your classes, your new favorite coffee shop, the people you met. He told you about his professors, how law school wasn’t as bad as he expected, how his dad was already making plans for his future.

But as the months passed, the calls grew less frequent.

“I miss you,” you admitted one night, your voice quieter than usual.

“I miss you too,” he said, but he sounded tired, distracted.

And then, one day, he didn’t pick up.

It wasn’t intentional, not at first. He got busy. You got busy. Weeks turned into months. You’d pick up your phone to text him, only to hesitate, wondering if he’d even have time to respond.

Slowly, the spaces between your conversations stretched wider, until one day, you realized you hadn’t spoken in over a year.

𐙚

1995

You weren’t expecting an invitation to Aaron’s wedding.

By that point, it had been years since you’d last spoken. Life had pulled you in opposite directions—him with law school and the FBI, you with your career and a life far from Virginia. But one day, an envelope appeared in your mailbox, his name scrawled neatly across the back.

Opening it, you found an invitation to his wedding with Haley.

It felt like someone had punched the air out of your lungs.

The last time you’d seen Aaron, there had been something unspoken lingering between you, something you had buried deep because you didn’t know what to do with it. But now, seeing his name next to hers, reality hit you like a freight train.

He had moved on. He was happy.

And you? You weren’t sure what you felt.

A week later, your phone rang.

“Y/N,” Aaron’s familiar voice came through the line.

“Aaron,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. “Hey.”

“Did you get the invitation?” he asked.

“I did,” you said softly. “I was… surprised.”

“I know,” he admitted, his tone hesitant. “I wasn’t sure if you’d come. But it wouldn’t feel right without you there.”

Your chest tightened.

“Of course I’ll come,” you said, even though part of you wanted to say no.

There was a pause, and then he cleared his throat. “There’s, uh, something else. Haley and I were talking… and I was wondering if you’d say a few words at the reception. You’ve known me the longest out of anyone, and—”

“Aaron,” you interrupted gently, your heart aching. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” he said firmly. “It would mean a lot to me.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

𐙚

The day of the wedding came faster than you expected.

You arrived at the church early, trying to keep your emotions in check as you took your seat near the front. The ceremony was beautiful—Haley looked radiant, Aaron impossibly handsome in his tux. Watching them exchange vows was bittersweet; you were happy for him, truly, but it was impossible to ignore the pang of longing deep in your chest.

At the reception, you did your best to blend into the background, sipping champagne and avoiding the dance floor. But when Aaron called your name, motioning for you to come up and speak, there was no hiding.

You took a deep breath, standing up and walking to the microphone. The room was quiet, all eyes on you, but your focus was solely on him.

“Hi, everyone,” you began, your voice trembling slightly. “For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Y/n. Aaron and I have been friends since high school, and I’m honored to be here today to celebrate this incredible milestone in his life.”

You glanced at him, your chest tightening at the small, encouraging smile he gave you.

“I could stand here and talk for hours about the kind of person Aaron is. How he’s always been the smartest guy in the room, how he has this way of making everyone feel safe, of making them laugh even when he pretends he’s the serious one. He’s someone who gives all of himself to the people he loves.”

You hesitated, gripping the edge of the microphone stand.

“But what I really want to say is this: Aaron, no matter where life takes you, no matter where you are or who you’re with, you’ll always have a piece of my heart. I’ll always love you.”

The room was quiet for a beat before polite applause broke out. Everyone took your words as the sentiment of a lifelong friend, but when your eyes met Aaron’s, you knew he didn’t.

His expression was unreadable, but there was something in his eyes—a flicker of recognition, maybe even regret.

He didn’t say anything, though.

Later, as the night wound down, you found yourself alone on the balcony, staring out at the stars. You heard footsteps behind you and turned to see Aaron standing there, his jacket off, his tie loosened.

He stepped beside you, resting his hands on the railing. The soft hum of music and laughter filtered through the open door, but out here, it was quiet—just the two of you and the weight of everything unspoken.

“You always did sneak away at parties,” he said, his voice tinged with warmth.

You smiled faintly. “Some things never change.”

For a moment, the two of you stood there in silence, the kind that felt more like a conversation than anything you could put into words. You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, taking in the slight slouch of his shoulders, the loosened tie, the way his fingers curled against the railing like he was anchoring himself.

“I meant what I said in there,” you said softly, breaking the stillness.

His jaw tightened, and for a second, you thought he might say something. But instead, he exhaled slowly, looking down at his hands.

“I know,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding. “Aaron…”

He turned to you then, his dark eyes meeting yours, and for a fleeting moment, you saw it—something raw and vulnerable, something that felt like an echo of the feelings you had buried long ago.

And just like that, it was gone.

Because Aaron already knew what you were about to say.

And he wanted—God, he wanted—to tell you he felt the same way. That there had been nights when he couldn’t sleep, thinking about the way you’d looked at him during your prom dance. That there had been moments when he’d almost picked up the phone, only to stop himself because he was afraid of what it would mean. That even now, standing beside you on his wedding night, part of him wished things had been different.

But he couldn’t.

Not now. Not tonight.

So instead, he reached out and gently tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering for just a moment longer than they should have.

“You always know what to say,” he said quietly, his lips twitching into a small, bittersweet smile.

You searched his face, hoping—praying—for something more. But he stepped back, the space between you suddenly feeling too wide and too small all at once.

“Come back inside,” he said, his voice soft. “They’ll miss you.”

And just like that, the moment was gone.

You nodded, forcing a smile. “Yeah. Okay.”

But as he walked back inside, you stayed behind, gripping the railing as your breath hitched in your throat.

Aaron had stopped at the doorway, his hand on the frame. For one fleeting second, he turned back to look at you, something heavy and unspoken in his eyes.

But he didn’t say it.

Because he knew that if he did, it would change everything.

And he couldn’t let himself do that.

So, with one final glance, he disappeared back into the glow of the reception, back to Haley, back to the life he had chosen.

You stayed on the balcony a little while longer, staring up at the stars, letting the weight of the moment settle over you.

Aaron loved you. You knew that now.

But sometimes, love wasn’t enough to rewrite the story.

And so, you turned and walked back inside, letting the door close behind you.

𐙚

2008

The coffee shop hadn’t changed.

It still smelled of roasted beans and cinnamon, the same tiny bell chimed above the door when someone walked in, and the old barista at the counter still greeted customers with a warm, knowing smile. It was one of those places that seemed untouched by time, as if the world could shift and change outside, but inside, everything remained the same.

You hadn’t been here in years. Not since before Aaron’s wedding.

And yet, as you stepped inside, the familiarity wrapped around you like an old memory.

You had been back in D.C. for a few days, just for work. It wasn’t meant to be anything more than a quick trip—a conference, a few meetings, and then back home. But something about the city had drawn you in, pulling at the threads of a past you thought you had let go of.

And apparently, fate wasn’t done with you yet.

Because there, sitting in the farthest corner of the café, was him.

Aaron Hotchner.

He looked different. Older, in a way that had nothing to do with age. His hair was shorter than you remembered, the sharp angles of his face even more defined. He looked good—too good—but there was something behind his eyes, a tiredness that hadn’t been there before.

You hesitated, debating whether or not to turn around and leave before he could see you. But it was too late.

Aaron looked up just as you took a step back, and the second his gaze locked onto yours, time seemed to slow.

His expression shifted from surprise to something softer, something almost unreadable. And then, before you could make a decision, he smiled—just a little, just enough to make your heart ache in a way you weren’t prepared for.

You took a breath and walked toward him.

“Hey, stranger,” you said, your voice lighter than you felt.

Aaron’s lips twitched, like he was suppressing a real smile. “I was starting to think you disappeared off the face of the Earth.”

You chuckled as you slid into the chair across from him. “I could say the same about you.”

There was a beat of silence. Not an awkward one, just a quiet moment of taking each other in.

“How long has it been?” he asked finally.

You tilted your head, pretending to think. “Since your wedding.”

His expression flickered for a moment, but he covered it quickly, nodding. “Yeah. A long time.”

Another pause.

You weren’t sure how to bring it up—how to ask him how he was doing without bringing up her. The last time you had seen him, he had been standing at the altar, his hands in Haley’s as he vowed forever. And you had smiled, clapped along with everyone else, and then walked away, knowing deep down that something between you and Aaron had closed that day.

But now? Now, he was sitting here, alone.

“You look good,” you said instead. “Tired, but good.”

Aaron huffed a quiet laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “That’s a nice way of saying I look like hell.”

You smiled. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

He took a sip of his coffee, watching you over the rim of his cup before setting it down. And then, just like that, his expression shifted again—more serious, more raw.

“I’m divorced.”

The words came so suddenly that it took you a moment to register them.

You blinked. “Oh.”

Aaron let out a breath, as if finally saying it aloud was both a relief and a weight at the same time. “It’s been over a half year now.”

Half year. And you had no idea.

You swallowed, trying to push past the sudden rush of emotions you couldn’t quite name. “I’m sorry, Aaron.”

He shook his head. “Don’t be. It was… inevitable.” He leaned back in his chair, running a hand over his face. “We tried. For a long time. But in the end, it just wasn’t working anymore.”

You wanted to ask what had happened. If it had been something specific, or if it had just been one of those things that slowly fell apart over time. But the way he was looking at you—calm, but tired—told you that he had already accepted it.

And maybe that was the hardest part.

“I don’t know what to say,” you admitted, playing with the edge of your sleeve. “I mean… I know it’s not easy.”

Aaron nodded, his gaze dropping to his coffee. “No, it’s not. But it was the right thing.” He exhaled softly, then looked up at you again. “Enough about me. What about you? How’s life?”

You hesitated, not because you didn’t have an answer, but because you weren’t sure what to say. Your life had been full—work, travel, relationships that never seemed to stick—but sitting here with him, all of that seemed distant. Like another version of yourself had lived it.

“I’m good,” you said finally. “Busy, mostly. Traveling a lot for work.”

Aaron smirked. “Still running away from D.C.?”

You rolled your eyes. “I prefer the term ‘exploring my options.’”

That made him chuckle, and for a moment, it felt like nothing had changed. Like you were still the same two people who had spent their high school years hiding out on rooftops and sneaking off to coffee shops to escape reality.

But things had changed.

He wasn’t the same boy you had fallen for all those years ago. And you weren’t the same girl who had spent too many nights wondering if he ever saw you the way you saw him.

Yet, somehow, the thread between you had never truly broken.

Aaron’s expression softened again, and before you could say anything else, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. After a few taps, he turned it toward you, showing you a picture.

A little boy with light hair and bright, curious eyes stared back at you, his smile so familiar it made your chest tighten.

“Is this…?”

“Jack,” Aaron said, and there was something different in his voice now. Something lighter. “He’s four now.”

You felt a smile pull at your lips as you studied the picture. “He’s adorable.”

Aaron chuckled, putting his phone away. “He’s amazing. Smart, stubborn, way too independent for his own good.” He shook his head fondly. “He’s the best thing that ever happened to me.”

You watched him for a moment, the way his entire demeanor had changed. Even after everything—the divorce, the exhaustion written in the lines of his face—there was no mistaking the love he had for his son. It was in every word, in every expression.

And something about that made your heart ache even more.

“You’d love him,” Aaron added after a pause, looking at you with something unreadable in his eyes.

You met his gaze, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I’m sure I would.”

Neither of you said anything after that. You just sat there, in a coffee shop that had stayed the same, even when everything else had changed.

And for the first time in years, you let yourself wonder if maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t the end of the story after all.

𐙚

The few days in D.C. passed too quickly.

You and Aaron spent what little time you could together—coffee in the mornings, long conversations that stretched into the evening. It was strange how easily you fell back into each other’s rhythm, like time had never separated you at all.

But reality had a way of creeping back in.

The night before you left, you sat on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, the city lights glowing softly in the distance. Aaron had insisted on walking with you one last time, hands shoved in his pockets, his face unreadable.

“So,” he said after a long silence. “Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” you echoed, staring out at the reflecting pool.

Neither of you said what you were really thinking. That it wasn’t fair. That fate had brought you back together only to pull you apart again.

Aaron shifted beside you. “I should’ve called you years ago.”

You turned to him, surprised. His gaze was distant, his jaw tight.

“I thought about it,” he admitted, finally looking at you. “So many times. But I kept telling myself it had been too long. That maybe you’d moved on.”

Your heart ached at the confession.

“I would’ve answered,” you said softly.

His lips pressed together, like he wanted to say more but couldn’t bring himself to.

Instead, he reached for your hand, threading his fingers through yours. His grip was warm, solid, grounding.

Maybe, in another lifetime, this moment would’ve been different. Maybe you wouldn’t have had to say goodbye again.

𐙚

The night air was crisp as you stood outside your hotel, your bag resting at your feet. Aaron stood beside you, hands tucked into his coat pockets, the city lights casting a soft glow on his face.

“I feel like I should say something profound,” you said, offering a small, wry smile.

Aaron huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “You don’t have to.”

But there was something in his expression—something unreadable, something hesitant.

You exhaled, rubbing your hands together for warmth. “This was nice. Seeing you again.”

He nodded. “Yeah. It was.”

A beat of silence.

The car that would take you to the airport pulled up to the curb, but neither of you moved.

You looked up at him, and suddenly, the weight of it all settled in your chest. The fact that, after years apart, you had found each other again—only for you to leave. Again.

His gaze softened, and you could feel it—that pull, the invisible string that had always been there between you, stretching taut.

You weren’t sure who moved first, but suddenly, he was closer. The warmth of his body cut through the cold night air, and your breath hitched as his hand barely, barely brushed against yours.

It would be so easy.

So easy to close the space, to lean in, to finally let go of all the years of missed chances and unspoken words.

Your heart pounded as you tilted your chin up ever so slightly, eyes flickering to his lips.

And for a moment, you thought—

But then, just as quickly as the moment came, Aaron took a step back.

His jaw tightened, and his hands curled into fists at his sides. “I should let you go,” he murmured, his voice quieter now.

You swallowed against the lump in your throat. “Yeah.”

The door to the car opened, and you forced yourself to move, to pick up your bag and step away from him.

As you slid into the seat, you risked one last glance at him.

He was still standing there, hands in his pockets, watching you go.

And then the door closed, and you were gone.

𐙚

2009

It was late. Too late for a casual call.

Your phone buzzed on the nightstand, the screen lighting up in the darkness of your hotel room. You were half-asleep, groggy as you reached for it, your brain sluggishly registering the name on the screen.

Aaron.

A strange feeling settled in your stomach as you sat up, clearing your throat before answering.

“Aaron?”

At first, there was nothing. Just silence and the sound of breathing—uneven, shaky.

You frowned, fully awake now. “Aaron? Are you okay?”

Then, finally, his voice. But it was different. Not the steady, composed Aaron Hotchner you had always known. This voice was hollow, cracked at the edges, barely above a whisper.

“She’s gone.”

Two words.

And yet, they carried a weight that nearly stole the breath from your lungs.

Your grip on the phone tightened. “What?”

Aaron inhaled sharply, but it sounded ragged. “Haley,” he murmured. “She’s… she’s gone.”

It hit you like a punch to the chest.

Haley.

You closed your eyes, your heart aching in a way you hadn’t expected. No matter what had happened between them—no matter the divorce, the years, the distance—she had been a part of his life, the mother of his child. And now, she was gone.

“Oh, Aaron…”

He didn’t say anything. And that silence—his silence—was almost worse than if he had broken down.

You could hear it in the way he was breathing, though. The way he was holding himself together by a thread.

“I didn’t know who else to call,” he admitted after a long moment, his voice barely there.

Your heart clenched.

“Aaron,” you said softly, leaning forward, as if that would somehow bring you closer to him. “Where are you?”

“Home.” Another pause. Then, quieter, “Jack is asleep.”

You shut your eyes. The thought of Jack—so small, so young—losing his mother made your chest tighten painfully.

“I’m coming,” you said without hesitation, already pushing the blankets off, already reaching for your suitcase.

Aaron exhaled, and you swore you heard the slightest waver in it.

“Okay,” he murmured.

That was it.

No protest. No telling you that you didn’t have to.

Just okay.

Because right now, he didn’t need distance. He didn’t need space.

He needed you.

And you would be there. Always.

𐙚

The flight to D.C. felt like the longest of your life.

You barely remembered packing. Barely remembered booking the ticket, rushing through the airport, or the restless way your fingers twisted in your lap during the flight. All you could think about was him.

The man who had always been steady, composed, unshakable. The man who, even in his darkest moments, never allowed himself to break.

But tonight, he had called you.

And that told you everything you needed to know.

By the time you arrived at his apartment, it was past midnight. The cab ride had been quiet, the city lights casting long shadows over the streets. When you stepped out in front of the building, you hesitated for just a moment, your heart pounding.

Then you walked inside.

The hallway leading to his door felt endless, every step heavier than the last. When you finally reached it, you took a deep breath and knocked softly.

It only took a few seconds for the door to open.

And the second you saw him, everything inside you shattered.

Aaron looked wrecked.

His shirt was wrinkled, his tie loosened and off-center, like he had pulled at it absentmindedly. His face was pale, his eyes red-rimmed, dark circles beneath them. He looked like a man who had lost something he couldn’t fathom living without.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

Then, without thinking, without hesitation, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him.

Aaron didn’t move at first. He just stood there, stiff, like he wasn’t sure how to respond. Like he had forgotten what it meant to be held.

But then, slowly—so slowly—his arms came around you, his grip tightening as if he was afraid you’d slip away.

And that’s when you felt it.

The way his body shook against yours. The way his fingers curled into your jacket like he needed something to hold onto. The way his breath came out in a harsh, uneven exhale against your shoulder.

It was the closest thing to breaking you had ever seen from him.

And it crushed you.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered, your throat tight, your eyes burning.

Aaron didn’t answer. He just held you tighter.

You stayed like that for a long time, standing in the doorway, wrapped in grief and something else—something unspoken, something that had always been there between you.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he pulled back just enough to look at you. His eyes searched yours, something vulnerable in them that you had never seen before.

Then, in a voice so raw it barely sounded like him, he said, “She told me to take care of him.”

You swallowed, your heart aching. “Jack?”

Aaron nodded, blinking rapidly, his jaw tightening as he looked away. “She made me promise.” His voice cracked, and he clenched his fists like he was trying to pull himself back together. “But I don’t—”

He stopped, exhaling sharply. Then, softer, more broken, “I don’t know if I can do this alone.”

You didn’t hesitate.

“You’re not alone.”

Aaron’s gaze snapped back to yours, something unreadable in his eyes.

You reached for his hand, squeezing it. “I promise, Aaron. You’re not alone.”

For a moment, he just looked at you.

And then, finally—finally—he nodded.

And in that moment, something between you shifted.

Maybe it was the grief. Maybe it was the years of missed chances and unspoken words. Or maybe, it was just the simple fact that, no matter how much time passed, you would always find your way back to each other.

Even in the darkest of nights.

Even when the world felt unbearably heavy.

You would always be his person.

And deep down, you knew—he would always be yours.

𐙚

The first week after the funeral, you woke up to the sound of movement.

You rubbed your eyes, adjusting to the dim light filtering through the apartment. It took you a moment to register where you were—on the couch, still wrapped in the blanket from last night.

Then you heard it again. The soft rustling of fabric, the quiet click of a belt buckle.

You sat up immediately, pushing the blanket off as you spotted Aaron standing near the kitchen, already dressed in his suit.

Your stomach dropped.

“You’re going in?” you asked, voice still thick with sleep but laced with disbelief.

Aaron barely glanced at you as he adjusted his tie. “There’s a case.”

You stared at him. “Aaron, no. You just—”

“I can’t sit here,” he interrupted, his voice steady but hollow. “I can’t—” He stopped himself, pressing his lips together tightly before exhaling. “I need to work.”

Your heart clenched.

He was doing what he always did—burying himself in the job, using it as a shield, as something to focus on so he wouldn’t have to sit still and feel.

You stood, walking toward him. “You need more time,” you said softly.

Aaron finally looked at you then, and for the first time since the funeral, there was something sharp in his gaze. Not anger—just exhaustion, frustration.

“I don’t have time,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “Jack needs stability. He needs normalcy. And if I don’t go back, if I don’t move, then—” He cut himself off again, clenching his jaw.

You swallowed hard, reaching out to touch his arm. “He needs you, Aaron. And you’re not ready—”

“I don’t have a choice,” he said quietly.

The weight in his voice made your chest ache.

You wanted to fight him on this. Wanted to tell him that he was being reckless, that he wasn’t a machine, that he needed to grieve before he shattered under the weight of it all.

But you knew Aaron.

You knew that if you pushed too hard, he’d only dig his heels in deeper.

So instead, you took a breath and shifted the conversation. “What about Jack?”

Aaron hesitated. “Jessica can take him for the day,” he said, but it sounded like an afterthought.

You shook your head. “No. Let me stay with him.”

Aaron blinked, clearly caught off guard. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I know I don’t have to,” you said gently, giving him a look. “But I want to. He knows me. He’s comfortable with me. Let me be here for him while you—” You sighed, not wanting to finish that sentence.

While you run from your grief.

Aaron was quiet for a long time. His gaze flickered between you and Jack’s bedroom door, the weight of the decision settling over him.

Then, finally, he nodded.

“Okay.”

You let out a quiet breath, relieved that he wasn’t arguing. “Okay,” you echoed.

Aaron glanced at his watch, then back at you. There was something unreadable in his expression, something almost hesitant.

Then, before you could say anything else, he reached out, squeezing your hand briefly.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

And then, just like that, he was gone.

𐙚

Jack woke up about an hour later, padding out of his room in his pajamas, rubbing his eyes.

When he saw you in the kitchen, his tiny brows furrowed. “Where’s Daddy?”

You crouched down to his level, keeping your voice soft. “He had to go to work for a little bit.”

Jack’s lip wobbled slightly, but he didn’t cry. “He was sad yesterday.”

Your heart squeezed.

“I know, buddy,” you murmured, brushing some of his messy hair back. “But he loves you so much. And he’s going to be home soon.”

Jack hesitated, then looked up at you. “Will you stay?”

You smiled gently. “Of course. We’re gonna have a fun day together, okay?”

Jack seemed to think about it for a moment before nodding. Then, in a small voice, he said, “Can we have pancakes?”

You let out a soft laugh. “Absolutely.”

Jack’s face brightened, and for the first time since you arrived, you saw a glimpse of something lighter in his expression.

And in that moment, you knew—no matter what happened, no matter how much Aaron tried to push forward too soon—you’d be here.

For Jack.

For Aaron.

For both of them.

Always.

𐙚

A month passed in the blink of an eye

The apartment was quiet.

Jack had fallen asleep hours ago, curled up in bed after insisting you read him his favorite book one last time before you left.

Now, it was just you and Aaron, sitting on the couch in the dim glow of the living room lamp, nursing cups of tea that had long gone cold.

Neither of you had said much for a while, just sitting in comfortable silence, knowing this was the last night before things changed again.

Aaron sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “It’s going to be strange without you here.”

You smiled slightly. “You’ll manage.”

He huffed a soft laugh. “Somehow.”

A beat of silence.

Then, without really thinking, you murmured, “I’m leaving my job.”

Aaron’s head turned sharply, his brows furrowing. “What?”

You let out a breath, staring down at your mug. “It’s… it became too much,” you admitted. “The hours, the pressure, the constant stress. I used to love it, but now it just feels like I’m running on empty all the time.”

Aaron was quiet, watching you carefully.

You exhaled, shaking your head. “I just… I don’t want my entire life to be about work anymore. I want something simpler. Something where I don’t wake up every morning feeling like I can’t breathe.”

Aaron’s gaze softened, and when he spoke, his voice was quiet. “I get that.”

You looked at him, and for a moment, neither of you said anything.

Because he did get it.

Maybe better than anyone.

You smiled weakly. “I think I’m going to find something small. Something normal. Maybe work in a bookstore or a little office job—something where I can actually live my life instead of just surviving it.”

Aaron nodded slowly, considering your words. “That sounds… nice.”

You huffed a laugh. “You sound surprised.”

His lips twitched. “No. Just… I don’t think I’ve ever thought about what a normal life would look like.”

You tilted your head, studying him. “You ever think about leaving the BAU?”

Aaron hesitated, looking down at his hands. “Sometimes.”

That surprised you. “Really?”

He exhaled. “I love what I do. But… I don’t know. Lately, I’ve started wondering if it’s sustainable. If it’s fair to Jack.”

You nodded, understanding.

Maybe neither of you had ever really stopped long enough to think about what else life could be.

You bit your lip, then nudged his arm lightly. “Maybe we should both find some sleepy little town and open a coffee shop.”

Aaron chuckled. “I’d be terrible at that.”

You smirked. “You’d be the serious owner who glares at customers for taking too long to order, and I’d be the one making sure we don’t get bad Yelp reviews.”

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “It’s a solid business model.”

You grinned, but then, after a moment, the smile faded, replaced by something softer. “I mean it, though. You deserve something easier, Aaron.”

His gaze flickered to yours, something unreadable in his expression.

“You do too,” he murmured.

A beat of silence.

Then, before the moment could stretch too long, you sighed, leaning back against the couch. “Well, first things first—I need to figure out what I’m doing next.”

Aaron nodded, but his gaze lingered on you, like he was committing this moment to memory.

Like maybe, for the first time, he was realizing that you wouldn’t always be here.

That tomorrow, you were leaving.

And neither of you knew when you’d be back.

𐙚

The next morning came too quickly.

You woke up before your alarm, the weight of the day pressing down on your chest before you even opened your eyes.

By the time you stepped out of your room, your suitcase already packed and waiting by the door, Aaron was in the kitchen making coffee. Jack sat at the table in his pajamas, sleepily pushing around pieces of cereal in his bowl.

Aaron glanced up when he saw you, his expression unreadable. “Morning.”

You forced a smile. “Morning.”

Jack perked up at your voice, but as soon as he remembered what today was, his little face fell. “You’re leaving.”

Your heart clenched.

You walked over, crouching down beside his chair. “I am, buddy,” you said softly. “But I’m going to come visit. And you can call me whenever you want, okay?”

Jack hesitated, then wrapped his arms around your neck in a tight hug.

You held him close, closing your eyes for a moment, soaking in the warmth of him. “I love you, kiddo,” you murmured.

��Love you too,” he whispered back.

When he finally pulled away, he wiped at his eyes but nodded, like he was trying to be brave. “Okay.”

You gave him one last squeeze before standing up, turning to Aaron.

He was watching you carefully, his hands wrapped around his coffee mug.

“Your flight’s soon,” he said quietly.

You nodded. “Yeah.”

A beat of silence.

Then, Aaron cleared his throat. “I’ll drive you.”

“Aaron—”

“It’s not up for debate,” he said, giving you a look. “Let’s go.”

You sighed, but you didn’t argue.

Jack waved from the door as you left, and you swore you saw his lip wobble, but he stayed put—just like you’d promised, he was strong.

𐙚

The drive to the airport was quiet.

Not uncomfortable. Just… heavy.

Neither of you seemed to know what to say.

When Aaron finally pulled up to the drop-off curb, he put the car in park and exhaled slowly. “You’ll text me when you land?”

You smiled faintly. “Of course.”

He nodded, gripping the steering wheel for a moment before finally turning to you. “You sure about leaving your job?”

You huffed a soft laugh. “I think so.”

Aaron studied you, then—before you could react—reached out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

The touch was so gentle, so unexpected, that you froze.

His hand lingered for a moment longer than necessary before he pulled away, clearing his throat.

“You’ll be okay,” he murmured.

Your chest ached. “You will too.”

Aaron exhaled, glancing away for a second before looking back at you. “Thank you. For everything.”

You swallowed hard. “You don’t have to thank me, Aaron.”

His jaw tightened, like there was something else he wanted to say.

Something he wouldn’t say.

Instead, he nodded once, his hand twitching slightly like he was debating whether to reach for you again. But he didn’t.

So you did.

You leaned in, wrapping your arms around him.

For a second, Aaron hesitated.

Then he let out a quiet breath and pulled you in, holding you tighter than he probably meant to.

Neither of you moved.

Neither of you spoke.

And for just a moment, the rest of the world didn’t exist.

But then—too soon—it had to.

You pulled back, forcing a small smile. “I’ll see you, okay?”

Aaron nodded, but there was something in his eyes that made it hard to walk away.

Still, you grabbed your suitcase and turned toward the airport entrance.

But just before you stepped inside, you glanced over your shoulder—

And there he was, still sitting in the car, watching you.

Like he wasn’t ready to let you go.

Like maybe, deep down—

He never would be.

𐙚

2011

The bullpen was quiet. Most of the team had already gone home for the night, leaving only the faint hum of computers and the distant murmur of voices from other departments. The dim glow of Aaron Hotchner’s desk lamp illuminated the stacks of paperwork in front of him, but he wasn’t reading them.

His eyes were on the framed picture beside his computer.

It was a simple photo, but one that had somehow found a permanent place in his office. You and Jack, at the park. You were laughing, your head tilted back slightly as Jack clung to your side, his small arms wrapped around yours. It had been taken nearly two years ago, back when you had been staying in D.C. after Haley’s death—back when you had been his anchor without even realizing it.

His fingers traced the edge of the frame absentmindedly.

How had two years passed?

It wasn’t as though he hadn’t thought about you. In fact, that was the problem. He had never stopped thinking about you. It was in the quiet moments, in the spaces between work and home, in the memories that resurfaced when he least expected them.

He thought about you when Jack asked about you.

He thought about you when he reached for his phone late at night, only to stop himself before dialing your number.

He thought about you when he walked past the coffee shop you had loved in D.C., the one where you had made him take a break from his endless case files just to sit with you and drink overpriced lattes.

He thought about you, and every time he convinced himself to push it aside, it always crept back in.

He exhaled sharply, leaning back in his chair. He was being ridiculous. He had no right to feel this way after all this time.

And yet, the ache in his chest told him otherwise.

The knock on his office door pulled him from his thoughts.

“Hotch?”

David Rossi.

Aaron straightened slightly, clearing his throat as if he had been caught doing something he shouldn’t. “Yeah?”

Rossi stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, closing the door behind him. His eyes flickered to the framed picture on the desk before settling on Aaron.

“You’re thinking about her again,” Rossi stated, not even posing it as a question.

Aaron’s jaw tensed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Rossi scoffed, dropping into the chair across from him. “Please. I’ve been doing this job long enough to know when someone’s got something—or someone—on their mind.” He nodded toward the picture. “And you? You’ve been staring at that damn thing for the past twenty minutes.”

Aaron glanced at the photo again, feeling a tightness in his chest.

“I wasn’t—” He started to deny it, but Rossi’s knowing look stopped him.

“You miss her.”

It wasn’t a question.

Aaron inhaled deeply, pressing his lips together before finally exhaling. “…Yeah.” His voice was quiet, almost hesitant. “I do.”

Rossi leaned forward slightly. “Then what the hell are you still doing here?”

Aaron frowned. “What?”

Rossi sighed, shaking his head. “Hotch, you’re one of the smartest men I know, but when it comes to your own feelings, you are clueless.” He pointed at him. “She left, and you let her go. But if you think she’s just gone from your life, then you’re fooling yourself.”

Aaron looked away, running a hand through his hair. “She moved on. She’s in New York, she has her own life now. I can’t just show up and—”

Rossi interrupted. “Why not?”

Aaron looked back at him.

Rossi’s expression softened slightly. “Tell me something. If you called her right now—if you told her you wanted to see her—do you really think she’d say no?”

Aaron opened his mouth, then closed it.

Because the truth was—he didn’t know.

He had spent so long convincing himself that he had no right to ask for more, that he had never even considered the possibility that you might have been waiting for him to say something.

Rossi sighed again. “Look, kid. Life doesn’t wait for you to figure things out. It moves on, whether you’re ready or not. And if you sit here for another two years convincing yourself you missed your chance, you’re going to wake up one day and realize that she really is gone.”

Aaron swallowed hard, his chest tightening at the thought.

“She’s still out there, Hotch,” Rossi said, his voice quieter now. “And something tells me she hasn’t stopped thinking about you either.”

Aaron’s fingers tightened around the frame in his hands.

“Go to her,” Rossi said simply. “Before it’s too late.”

For a long moment, Aaron didn’t say anything.

Rossi didn’t push. He just stood up, clapped Aaron on the shoulder, and left the office.

Aaron remained still, staring down at the picture again.

Go to her.

Before it’s too late.

The words echoed in his mind long after Rossi was gone.

And for the first time in nearly two years, Aaron wondered if maybe, just maybe, he still had a chance.

𐙚

The streets of New York were loud, alive with their usual rhythm—cars honking, people moving past each other in hurried steps, conversations blending into the background hum of the city. But Aaron barely noticed any of it.

His heart was pounding, his palms slightly clammy despite the cold air.

He had spent the entire flight convincing himself he was making a mistake. That he had no right to do this. That you had probably moved on, that maybe you had someone else now, that showing up like this was selfish.

But then, he had thought about what Rossi had said.

Before it’s too late.

And now he was standing in front of your coffee shop, staring through the large glass windows, his breath fogging slightly against the cold air.

There you were.

Moving behind the counter, your face lit up in a laugh as you spoke to a customer. You looked happy. Comfortable. Like you belonged here.

For a moment, he thought about walking away.

But then, as if sensing him, you turned toward the window.

And your eyes met his.

Your laughter faded, your lips parting slightly in surprise.

Aaron felt frozen in place, his breath caught in his chest as he saw the realization dawn in your expression.

Then, slowly, you stepped out from behind the counter and made your way toward the door.

The bell above the entrance chimed softly as you pushed it open, stepping outside onto the sidewalk, arms wrapped around yourself against the cold.

“Aaron?” Your voice was breathless, as if you couldn’t quite believe he was standing in front of you.

He swallowed hard, his voice rough when he finally spoke. “Hey.”

There was a beat of silence, the city moving around you, but in that moment, it felt like the world had narrowed to just the two of you.

“What are you doing here?” you asked softly.

Aaron took a shaky breath. “I needed to see you.”

Your brows furrowed slightly, confusion flickering across your face. “After almost two years?”

“I know,” he admitted. “I know it’s been too long. And I should have come sooner. I should have said something sooner.” His throat tightened as he looked at you. “But I was afraid.”

You exhaled softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “Afraid of what?”

His lips pressed together for a moment before he met your gaze again. “Afraid of losing you. Afraid that if I told you how I felt, I’d ruin everything.”

You stared at him, your breath catching. “Aaron…”

But he kept going, his voice raw, unguarded in a way he had never allowed himself to be before.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he admitted. “Not after you left. Not after any of it. I tried. I told myself I had to let you go. That you had your own life now, and I had mine. But every time I thought I had moved on, I’d hear your voice in my head. I’d see something that reminded me of you, or Jack would ask about you, and it was like—” He let out a shaky breath. “It was like I was still reaching for something that was already gone.”

You swallowed, your eyes shining as you listened.

Aaron took a step closer, his voice lower now. “And then Rossi—he told me I needed to stop running from it. That I needed to come here before it was too late.” He exhaled, his eyes searching yours. “And he was right.”

You blinked up at him, your breath shallow.

Aaron hesitated for only a second before he took your hands in his, his grip warm, grounding.

“I love you,” he said, the words breaking free like a confession he had held back for too many years. “I’ve loved you for longer than I ever admitted to myself. And I’m done pretending I don’t.”

You let out a shaky breath, your heart pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it.

For so long, you had wanted to hear those words. You had dreamed about this moment, imagined it in so many different ways. But now, standing here, with the weight of his confession settling between you, you realized something—

You had never imagined this.

The way his voice trembled with emotion. The way his eyes looked at you, full of something deep and unshakable. The way the city buzzed around you, but it felt like there was no one else in the world.

You felt tears welling in your eyes as you exhaled a quiet laugh, almost disbelieving. “You really came all this way… just to tell me that?”

Aaron smiled, just barely, but his voice was still raw with honesty. “Yeah. I did.”

Your lips parted slightly, your chest tightening with so much emotion you could barely breathe.

And then—

You didn’t think. You just moved.

You reached up, grabbing the collar of his coat, and pulled him down to you.

Aaron barely had time to react before your lips were on his, soft but urgent, years of unspoken words and unsaid feelings pouring into the kiss.

He inhaled sharply, his hands tightening on your waist as he pulled you closer, his body instinctively leaning into yours.

And then—

The memory hit.

The prom.

The slow song, the way your hands had rested on his shoulders, the warmth of his hands on your waist. The way the world had faded until it was just the two of you, swaying gently, the room spinning in a blur of lights.

And the kiss.

The way it had been tentative, hesitant, the taste of something new and terrifying. The way neither of you had spoken about it afterward, too afraid of what it might mean.

Now, years later, the kiss was no longer hesitant. It was deep, full, a promise of everything that had been left unsaid for too long.

When you finally pulled away, both of you breathless, your forehead rested against his.

Aaron let out a soft, shaky laugh. “That was—”

“Long overdue?” you finished for him, smiling softly.

He chuckled, his fingers brushing against your jaw. “Yeah.”

You exhaled, your voice quieter now. “I waited for you, you know.”

Aaron’s throat tightened. “I know.” His hands cupped your face, his thumb brushing gently over your cheek. “And I’m so sorry I made you wait this long.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, just letting yourself feel the warmth of his touch, the way his breath mixed with yours in the cold air.

Then you looked at him again, your voice steady, certain.

“You’re here now.”

Aaron nodded, his lips curving into the softest smile. “I am.”

And this time, there was no doubt.

No hesitation.

No going back.

Just the two of you, standing in the middle of a busy New York street, finally getting it right.

Finally finding your way back to each other.

---

[thewitchblue]

"Stop."

Dick complained as he fell onto the couch. He was just trying to cuddle with you, but you turn into mist every time he tried. You've been bullying your poor boyfriend with your abilities ever since he told you he's Nightwing.

You chuckled, turning solid again once you were standing. You teased,

"My poor honey bunches."

He was obviously grumpy as he sat upright again and gave you a half-hearted glare.

"Is this because I'm Nightwing?"

You sat next to him and gently pulled him into your arms. You felt bad looking at his pouting face. Dick thrives on physical contact.

"It's more about the lack of trust. I couldn't help but wonder if you ever trusted me like I trusted you."

You allowed Dick to kiss the top of your head when your grip on him tightened slightly.

"Of course I trust you. Nightwing is separate from me."

You knew as much, but it still felt odd how disconnected Nightwing was from Dick despite being the same person with the same personality and traits. Dick cuddled closer to you. It was a huge leap of faith when revealing Nightwing to you, but he was glad to have done it. He didn't like how often he had to lie to you and how smoothly the lies came out.

You weren't happy about it, but you doubt anybody would be happy to find out their boyfriend risks dying every day and every night. You love him too much to be happy about Nightwing. At least he's getting paid during the day. What's the excuse for nighttime?

You could assume everybody else's identities based on Dick's identity alone, so you weren't surprised when you caught them unmasked. Dick was showing you the BatCave, where everybody was in various degrees of unmasked (and some even partially undressed from changing to their suits).

Everybody froze in place when Dick introduced you to their superhero side. You had waved awkwardly and somehow managed to not turn into mist in front of everybody or hide behind Dick like a scared child. It was scary having the eyes of eight vigilantes trained on you specifically. Chaos erupted, and Dick had to fight off a few of his siblings.

Among the chaos, Tim managed to sneak up on you and grab you. Immediately, you turn into mist with a squeak. You accidentally made yourself vanish as you scattered your water vapour among the damp cave.

Tim was too stunned to dodge the punch Dick accidentally hit him with. It seemed Dick was defending air now with the only proof of your existence being his wet hands.

"Uh, Dick?"

Dick either didn't hear him or didn't dare to look away from his opponents, which was fair as Cass was trying to sweep him off his feet, and Jason was trying to land a punch.

Unfortunately for both of them, Dick had defaulted to his acrobat skills and can dodge for days. Cass was as fast as a snake, striking fast and evading any stray attacks from Dick. Jason, while slower, had enough force behind every punch that even one would lead to a swift victory for the duo.

"Dick."

Tim said, more insistently. He was still trying to locate you, but you were invisible. Lost in the air. His hands had dried on their own, and he worried you ran away in a panic. He didn't know what to do or how to even get you back. He had not prepared for something like this to happen.

He ran to the chemicals they kept in pipettes. He can maybe make a gas to force you back physically. Granted, he had no idea if you would turn into some type of elastic monster if he pulled you out of the air, but he'd rather you be real than Dick freak out.

Dick noticed immediately, but at least Tim wasn't trying to attack Dick. What is Tim doing anyway? Come to think of it, where are you? That gave Dick pause. Where did you go?

Dick realised too late what Tim was trying to do and screamed,

"STOP!"

His voice boomed through the cave, and everybody stopped. Dick never screams that way. It had to be bad if Dick ran instead of flipped to Tim.

All they heard was a weak cough that echoed throughout the air. Dick frantically searched for a cap for the tube. He hissed,

"You're killing them!"

Tim had no idea and turned off the burner immediately. He watched in horror as your physical body fell from the tall ceiling. Everybody heard the all-too-familiar sound of bones breaking and cringed.

Dick ran to the body and heard a disconnected voice say,

"I'm not in my body."

Dick glared at Tim immediately, who raised his hands in surrender before turning his attention to the body. He approached slowly, nervous to even see if the body was repairable. The fall didn't look good. You landed on your back, which normally means a broken spine, especially given the height you fell from, and he should know. His acrobatic career taught him as much.

"Honey bunny, where are you?"

Dick timidly asked as he looked around. You materialise as a mist body, looking at him with an anxious smile. He blew out a long breath as he realised he won't be able to put you back in your body for a long time, if ever.

He hesitated before trying to hold your hand. As expected, all he got was a wet hand, which you dried immediately by summoning it back to your hand. Dick turned to Tim with barely held fury burning in his eyes.

"What did you release, Tim?"

Tim looked at the chemicals and mumbled something inaudibly. You chose to answer for him when he didn't speak any louder.

"He mixed sulfur dioxide and nitrogen oxide with something Ivy produced."

You could taste the concoction mixing in the air and soaking into you. Being poisoned left a weird taste.

Dick had no idea how to fix this. Tim could have easily killed you with this poisoning. Dick punched the wall of the cave right next to Tim's head. He was shaking with rage and sorrow.

"Fix it."

Dick said as a feeling of calm slowly settled into him. This can't be happening. This had to be a dream. A nightmare. Tim didn't know where to even begin. All he could do was stare at your corpse-like body in horror. He's seen unconscious people, but you looked dead. Truly dead. Do you count as a zombie or a ghost in this state?

Jason was frozen in place. His gaze was flashing with every emotion a person could possibly feel before finally settling on blazing anger. He didn't even know who you are, but you obviously mean a lot to Dick, and Tim just ruined you potentially forever. Jason was freaking out. He's used to seeing dead bodies, but you weren't really dead. You were still conscious and aware. Jason was ready to explode with rage. There were too many memories resurfacing for his liking.

You tried again to hold Dick's hand, but you gave him a sad smile as your hand passed right through his hand. You didn't know where to even begin. Use halogens? Would that even work? You frowned at Tim. He was riddled with guilt, but what did he honestly expect to happen? You would be poisoned and potentially killed if you weren't forcefully shoved out of your body.

Damian watched with hawk eyes. He could see the poison, in real time, mixing with your water vapour. It felt like watching a cloud turning into a tornado before his eyes. You said with a sigh of snowflakes,

"I wish I could say I can help, but I can't without physical hands."

Has this happened before? How are you so calm? You looked disappointed more than angry. Jason was angrier than you and he wasn't the one permanently made of mist.

"Do you know how to reverse it?"

Tim asked hopefully. You shrugged half-heartedly before saying,

"I have some ideas."

You spent the rest of the week ordering Tim to do things for you and testing all of your ideas while Dick watched every single move Tim did, claiming he lost all privacy privileges when he literally vaporised you.

"You know I really can't evil genius over here when you are glaring at me like I was the one who killed your parents."

Tim mumbled under his breath. He had tried to ignore the glares from Dick and Jason, but he can't focus. You spoke before Dick could, thankfully,

"Loony goony, I'm doing all the thinking. You're simply my hands."

Tim hates the nickname you gave him, but it was a fair point. He really has strictly been your hands as you hover above him like a cloud. He's been too stunned to do much else. You've been nice and patient, but he did still poison you, and that kind of soured your budding friendship.

Bruce realised very quickly that you were significantly smarter than they had assumed. Your knowledge was impressive, but he was really waiting to see if Jo'nn can do anything. Bruce should have expected Dick to date someone who can keep up in their conversations and help with cases when you weren't trying to fix yourself, but you constantly impressed him.

Your misty body turned to rain as you frowned next to Tim. It was fascinating to watch a self-contained rainstorm brewing within a body of mist, but Tim had to focus on his task. Your task, rather, as you were guiding him.

"Okay, don't panic, but you are going to have to liquefy me."

Tim startled out of his thoughts. He looked at you in horror, but you continue your thought,

"Separate me from the poison, put me in a glass and make my husk drink the liquid or inject me with me. Whichever you feel would work safer and quicker. Hopefully, that works."

You've run out of safe tests that normally work to return you to your physical body, so now you need to take drastic measures. He managed to say,

"What if you die? Or-or we miss parts of you?"

He was more than a little concerned. What happens if you die? He supposes he'd meet you in the afterlife soon after, if there is one, because Dick would kill him.

"I can restore myself once I'm in my body again. Just... catch the majority of it. I don't want to lose a limb or worse."

Dick was petrified in place the more you spoke. What do you mean you could lose a limb? What does worse imply? Is it going to hurt? Is this really the only option left?

"There has to be better ways to do this."

Dick tried to object. You sighed. You had hoped so, but it seemed unlikely. You doubt even the Martians could help.

"I'll probably survive. You focus on detoxifying me."

Jason managed to grab a rain tarp to catch you, but he still looked concerned. Could this really work? It seemed like a kooky idea. It was an idea that was thrown together, seemingly randomly. You seriously want them to liquefy you.

Tim was concerned. He had so many thoughts rattling in his head that he was overwhelmed. There were so many things that could go wrong, yet you acted so certain of your solution. He can't tell if it was fake bravo or genuine confidence, but he finds that he can't move his body to follow through. It should be so easy, but he finds himself unable to think or move. He doesn't want to mess this up again. He could seriously harm you if something goes wrong. Poisoning you, while awful, didn't cause you severe harm like messing up when putting you back together again would. Tim hesitated too long, so you did it for him.

Dick tried not to scream as you turned into a liquid in front of him, but he failed. He did, however, manage to assist Tim with shaking hands. Dick said with gritted teeth,

"Tim, I swear if you ever do this again..."

Dick didn't need to finish his threat. It was a promise for a fight. The second his misty partner is poisoned, he's going on a warpath. He doesn't care if he has to turn into a villain.

"Noted."

Was Tim's only response. He doesn't really plan to poison you again. At least, not intentionally (this is Gotham, after all). He's grown to like you and wants to keep you around. You have a brilliant brain, and you didn't seem to shy away from taking charge under the unpredictable situation.

They managed to separate you and the poison, but nobody could agree on what is a safer option: giving you an IV or attempting to get your husk to drink you. Dick said worriedly,

"You could spill if they are drank."

Jason countered,

"IVs are slow and who knows if it would actually work."

Cass chimed in,

"IV is better."

Damian couldn't care less, but he pointed out,

"They said they can reclaim the water they lost."

Tim shook his head, but he stayed out of it because he's the cause of the problem to begin with. You did say both methods should work. You just didn't say anything about what you'd prefer. You put blind faith into a group of heroes to figure it out.

Dick eyed your watery body. You'd probably be yelling at them to hurry up before you evaporate completely, so he gathered you carefully into a piping bag and slowly put you back inside your body.

"This better work..."

Dick grumbled. He will kill Tim if it doesn't work. The others ceased their bickering and waited to see if you would wake up or not. This will decide Tim's fate.

Fortunately for Tim, you did recover. You slowly lifted your hands to examine before grinning and grabbing Dick's hands. Your hands didn't pass through his own! You knew your honey bunches would save you.

You got borderline tackled by Dick's aggressive hug and heard his relieved laugh. You're not dead! Tim's life is no longer in danger! You said cheekily,

"I told you I'd probably survive."

Probability was on your side this time, but don't push your luck next time you are poisoned, you beautiful science experiment.

[clawsdevour]

silky skin

wc: 1.0k content warning: post-time skip, established relationship, bokuto x reader, fluff, not proofread

note: doing skincare on bokuto would be so cute (⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)

໒‧₊˚ ⋅

Lounging on the soft cushions in the living room couch as the light from the TV shines on you. You hear the door creak, and a tall and bros silhouette walk out while you see the steam from the hot shower he took wind out. Bokuto had just finished showering to see you beaming at him with a face mask on while he walked towards you.

“Ooh is that a face mask?? Can I try one?” He’s ruffling his damp hair with a dry towel. His eyes are lit up, taking this as an opportunity to just relax and unwind with you before his next training schedule gets posted.

“Yeah, do you want me to do my whole skincare routine on you?” If he wanted to do the face mask, he might as well get the whole spa treatment while he’s at it. Bokuto’s lowering himself on the couch next to you as he mumbles out an excited Mhm!

While he’s resting on the plush cushions, you walked out to get the essential skincare products for his already perfect skin. He just washed his face in the shower so.. He’d probably just need a toner and maybe a simple serum. After the face mask he could also use some lotion to lock in more moisture after.. There were also new products you haven’t tried yet and wanted to test on him, but you weren’t for sure what his skin type was yet. 

Stepping back towards the living room with a little tray of the toner bottle and class container that carries the serum inside, you set them down next to your boyfriend before taking the sheet mask out for a little walk. Bringing it to the kitchen to chill in the fridge while you got his skin all nice and prepped for the mask.

“I think I have everything. Scooch over so you can lay ur head on my lap, Koutaro.” On the couch, his damp grey and black hair all sprawled out on your thighs while you brush it off his shining face. His hands are resting softly on his stomach as he’s looking up at you with a subtle grin spread on his lips. 

“So first is toner.. It’s perfect for everyday skin care. If you want to borrow this one I’ll give you it since this one is for all skin types,” unscrewing the cap open and shaking the clear liquid onto the palm of your hand. Rubbing your hands together before you softly pressed your wet hands onto the surface of his face.

“T’smells good, like expensive good hehe..” Bokuto’s content with just the first step of his newly built skincare routine. Just having your hands on him makes him almost the happiest man in the world. When you took your presence off of him, his eyes pried open as he saw you grab a little glass container that you opened. 

“Ooh, what is that?” His big hands tenderly take the bottle from your reach to which you let him out of curiosity. He’s toying around with the little silicone pipette, trying to read the label and understand what the words have to do with taking care of your skin.

“..contains hyalur–hyaluronic acid. Babe what are you putting on my face?? Is this really okay for skin..?” His gold eyes shift up from the bottom to peer at you in a slightly shocked face, trying to understand how you know all these chemistry terms that come with taking care of the body’s largest organ. The acid part might’ve threw him off..

“Yes it is. It’s good for keeping your skin nice and hydrated, I use this almost like everyday Bokuto… you seen me put this on!” talking back at him with a slight pout on your lips. His fingers twist it open where his eyes widens seeing how thick and gooey the clear liquid is.

“Gimme that.” Snatching pipette lid from his grasp, Bokuto’s still holding onto the container that contained all of the serum in his other hand. His gaze lingered as you squeezed out a drop or two onto your fingers, putting the cap back into the little glass jar to which he screwed back on before returning back into his resting position. 

His eyes laid back down as you’re rubbing the serum up all over his silky baby-like skin. Tapping in to lock in all the moisture, he can’t help but have a beaming look crawl on his face.

“M’kayy time for the face mask..” shuffling his damp head off your lap to go in the kitchen. Bokuto’s heavy eyes watch you step and grab the chilled mask from the fridge and return back to your seat.

“This might be kind of cold but it’s better when it’s cold okay?” squeezing his squishy cheek to get his attention despite the sleepiness starting to kick in. He responded with a simple nod as his lashes fluttered open into the light.

Tearing open the top of the thin package, your fingers reached in to pull out the soaked and chilly face sheet. You smack it onto his forehead to which he jolts at the freezing touch.

“WOAH! That’s like COLD COLD!!” That really brought him back from his unconsciousness. You can’t help but giggle at how silly your boyfriend can be while you’re unfolding the compressed mask.

“Close your eyes for me reallyyy quick..” lining up the chin part to his, laying the mask onto his skin slowly till it reached his forehead. Adjusting the sheet to mold to his facial features for a better result. 

“Okay now we just gotta wait for a good maybe.. Like twenty minutes-ish before we take it off.” Grabbing all the trash before you head off to throw it away. Bokuto’s head is pushing down on your lap, as his rising arms grab your attention. His hands are at your face that peered right down to his.

“We’re matching now!” Bokuto’s content golden eyes smiled as he gives you a gentle peck.

masterlist here

[five-rivers]

Prompt: Danny’s birth was an accident.

A lab accident, to be precise.

The problem with researching something as esoteric as ghosts was that you had to source all your own materials. If you wanted to know how high ectoplasm concentrations affected human cells, you either had to buy from ethically dubious medical supply companies or use your own.

Maddie used her own. Or Jack's. They worked together, and he was fine with it, so it was essentially the same thing, ethically, if not biologically.

Either way, they kept a whole variety of tissue samples, sourced from themselves. Cheek swabs, bone marrow samples, skin, hair, a tooth Jack had to get pulled, blood, serum and whole, a couple biopsies from different organs, spinal fluid, sperm, a collection of egg cells.

If they were going to market their inventions as family friendly and safe, they needed to know it wasn't going to render anyone sterile. They had Jazz already, and one child was quite enough, but other people might want more. Or assurances it wasn't going to mutate their children, before or after birth. Although in Maddie's opinion, that was quite ridiculous. Ectoradiation was quite different from electromagnetic radiation, or alpha radiation, or other traditional types.

So, that was what Maddie was researching now. Eggs and sperm. She wasn't about to do anything fertilized, of course. Too many ethical problems. But she would put a different concentration of ectoplasm in each test tube for one set, then duplicate those concentrations for the second set, then set up some eggs in one set of vessels, and a sample of sperm in the other, then run them for the same amount of time. Fourteen with eggs, fourteen with sperm. A bit of an odd number, but that's what happened in independent labs. Test tubes broke, and then if you wanted to control your experiments, and keep everything the same, you had to do things in odd numbers. Or buy new test tubes. But the more time you spent shopping, the less time you spent experimenting.

She started with the eggs. One by one, putting them into the the test tubes. One... two... three... four... bottom of the column... five... six... seven... eight... bottom of the column... nine... ten... eleven... twel--

"Maddie! I'm taking Jazz out to see you know who for you know what!"

"Dad!" said Jazz, her two-year-old voice squeaky with outrage. "I know we're going to the doctor!"

"Oh, right!" she called back. "That was today, thanks you for remembering, hun!" Usually, she was the one of them to remember important dates, but Jack was really on top of things for Jazz. It was nice.

"No problem, Mads! Good luck with the mutation experiment!"

"Thanks!" She turned back to the rack of test tubes. Now, where was she? She'd just finished that row... She had sorted them by row, hadn't she? Of course she had. So, she should start with the sperm. Right

She picked up the pipette and started from the top of the column. One.. two... three... four... She kept going, until she hit fourteen, and still had two test tubes left.

Well. That wasn't good. She must have-- Had she overlapped? Or had she just not finished filling the egg test tubes? If the latter, she could just put the last two eggs in the last two test tubes. And label them a little more carefully. She rearranged her worktable and peered into the container she'd carried the thawed eggs over in.

One. One unopened egg.

Hands shaking slightly, Maddie counted back to the thirteenth test tube. The one with the second-highest concentration of ectoplasm. The one that she had almost certainly put both an egg cell and sperm into. She pulled it out of the rack and set it in an empty one, then sat and stared.

This was a serious mistake.

Oh, she knew she could just dump it out in the sink or in the biological waste box, or any number of other things. Even moving at their fastest, sperm took a while to get into an egg. It might not have gotten there yet. And even if it had... Few people would consider a single cell a human being. But... Maddie had been raised Irish Catholic. She couldn't...

She sighed. Before she got carried away, she needed to check to see if it had even... taken, she supposed she should call it. If there was any life there. The ectoplasm could very well have acted as an inhibitor.

She licked her lips and reached for a microscope. First, find out what had happened, then talk to Jack, and then... then they would decide what to do. Together.

[starlightsuffered]

Long Healed

Info - worker and boss relationship, worker reader, self harm scars, injury

I was racing around the Candy room. When Willy was really focused, he was like a surgeon. He’d call out for something and I’d need to grab it immediately and hand it to him.

“Maple leaf picked on the fifteenth day of fall,” he requested.

I went to the plants section and looked by day and type. When I got back the concoction was a lilac colour and the steam was coming up in cumulus looking clouds.

“Here,” I handed it to him. He grabbed it with tweezers.

It was wild because he even looked dashing in his lab coat and those ridiculous safety goggles.

“Tuft of hair from the beard of the 13th Billy goat in the flock,” Willy asked next.

I got the fluff and handed it to him. He took it and it made the candy mixture smell like spice. He was stirring carefully.

Other pipettes were boiling with other mixtures. I could hear the ticks and whirs of other devices working. Something in the corner was creating a new version of fairy floss. Taffy was being pulled by the stretching machine.

It was always so warm and cozy in here compared to the frigid outdoors. It was comfortable and homey. I was glad Willy had asked me to live here. I hadn’t had much of a place to stay before now. I also knew he lived here, and having someone else in the large factory made me happy.

I hadn’t had the most pleasant life. Things had been very hard before I’d been hired by Willy. I often thought of him as an angel. He was always so sweet and gentle with me. He forwarded my soverigns when I needed, and if I broke things he didn’t take it out or my paycheck.

“Please stir this while I prepare the dry ingredients,” Wonka requested.

“Yes sir,” I agreed readily.

I began to turn the spoon counterclockwise as he had. I hummed lightly as I did it. I looked over at the wall. I noticed the artists rendition of Willy’s mother. She had the best smile. I always wished I knew someone in my childhood who smiled that way at me. I would have liked to have met her. Willy was always saying she would have liked me. I always felt so warm and fuzzy when he said that sort of thing to me.

Suddenly, glass shattered. The noise startled me and I knocked over a pipette. The jelly like pink and white bubbles soared out of the tube and splattered on the floor. I felt a sharp pain as jagged pieces sliced into my arm.

“I’m sorry,” was the first thing I thought to say. Willy had rushed over to see the mess. I was horrified by how I’d destroyed his recipe.

“No, it’s okay, I’m just worried because you’re bleeding,” Willy said anxiously.

“Oh Mr. Wonka, I'm fine really,” I replied anxiously moving to hide my wrist. He gently took it back. He smoothed his thumb over my marred skin, eyes opened wider in shock.

He must have seen the the scars that hadn’t faded very well. He didn’t say anything. He made sure to get a bandage and wet cloth along with a salve to ward off infection.

He cleaned the wound, and next he used soft movements to apply the ointment. Finally, he wrapped my arm with the bandage and tied it off. It was just right, not too loose and not too tight.

“There you are,” he smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He held my arm a little longer, his face getting sadder and sadder.

“You don’t have to tell me, but I’d like to know what all these other scars are from,” he murmured.

His radiant green orbs met mine. I bit the inside of my lip. I turned away from him. The intensity of his gaze was too much.

“I-I wasn’t always as happy as I was here,” I finally admitted. “I felt like the only person to take that out on…..was myself.”

“Oh, y/n,” Willy’s voice was filled with sorrow and ache.

“I haven’t done it in a while. I’m almost a year clean. I am sorry you had to see that,” I told him solemnly.

“You’ve got nothing to apologise for,” Willy told me quietly. His face dipped down and his lips touched the thicker skin. He kept his mouth there longer than I’d expected.

“I don’t want to overstep, but if you ever need a person to talk to when you feel that way; I am here,” he told me.

I finally turned back to meet his eyes. I felt full of gratitude and love. He was the kindest man I’d ever met.

“Thank you Willy, those cuts are long healed, but it feels like you just sealed them even further,” I told him tearily.

“I am glad,” he beamed.

@pmak2002 @softhecreator @plutoispurplw @sp1deyyf4ngz @seungcheol17daddy @jesschalamet @vvsdreaming

[silvvermst]

Hello,I don’t know if I can leave any requests,but I will try suggesting a Warren scenario anyway…

Warren and reader is in established relationship.Maybe you could write about him doing some experiment in the school lab(maybe it’s his homework)with reader,but they keep on distracting him with flirting and touching.Warren tries to brush the reader off trying to act professional and scientific,yet he’s blushing and all.In the end,he finally stops trying to do his science project and just gives into the teasing.

I hope you like the scenario😅It’s honestly my first time suggesting such things because Warren indeed has so little amount of fanfics it’s incredible!Even Nathan has more…

DISTRACTION

NOTE: i'm so sorry for my late submission T^T i miss u guys sm and i hope u enjoy this self-indulgent fic

TYPE: fluff / implied smut

The sterile scent of ethanol and metal hung in the air, and the faint hum of the school lab’s fluorescent lights was the only sound—aside from Warren’s steady scribbling on his notebook and the occasional bubbling of some chemical in the flask. You were there to ruin every fiber of his concentration, to the point where his goggles sat slightly askew, curls frizzing just a little under the heat of your touch.

“Okay,” he muttered to himself, adjusting a pipette with trembling precision. “Two drops of sodium chloride… then stir gently… just a basic reaction… nothing crazy…”

“Sounds intense,” you said, voice low, eyes trailing over his soft features. “Your hands always shake like that when you're handling chemicals, or is it just when I’m around?”

Due to your simple words, Warren fumbled the pipette and caught it just before it hit the counter. “I—it’s concentration. A delicate chemical process. Not—whatever that was.”

You tilted your head, all faux innocence. “I was just making an observation. You like those, right? Scientific method and all?”

“Yeah, well, scientific observations don’t usually come with sultry undertones,” he said, cheeks turning a shade redder than the litmus paper by his elbow.

You sat on a stool next to him, chin resting on your palm, watching his every move with a smirk. “Do you really have to finish this?”

Your words fell on deaf ears, it was evident that his whole senses were back to his science project once again, engrossed by the beakers and flasks in front of him. “Okay, if I just increase the saline solution by 5ml and—” he muttered, carefully measuring a clear liquid into the beaker.

Once he was finished with one task and you saw him place down the beaker carefully, your movements were fast to blow a tiny puff of air to his ears, causing it to immediately turn red before shivering. “Babe, I know you’re very bored right now, but I really need to finish this for tomorrow’s presentation.”

He covered his ear with his gloved hand, trying his hardest to create some distance between the two of you. “You’re so hot when you talk science,” you whispered, voice soft but teasing.

Warren blinked, pausing mid-pour. “H—Huh?”

You closed the gap between the two of you again, just enough for your fingers to lightly pull his arm away from his face. “Like, really. The goggles? The coat? Full-on mad scientist fantasy.”

Warren coughed, ears turning a deep shade of pink. “I—uh—it’s just a chemistry project.”

“Sure, it is, but still, hearing you talk about your favourite things is my favourite.” His focus seems to be wavering each moment passes, and it didn’t slip your notice by the way his throat bobs and his deep sighs turn into slight gasps with your slight touches.

He flinched slightly, trying to regain composure through coughing. “We are working with fragile compounds. Your distracting behavior could lead to combustion. Or, worse, contamination.”

It was just like your first anniversary. He was all talk and no bark, but the moment the two of you ended up in his bedroom, he was sitting at the edge of his bed, looking like a tomato when you took off your shirt. And now, you were glad he didn’t change. He still looks at you with so much sincerity and love from the moment you confessed to him.

You leaned closer, your breath brushing the shell of his ear. “You saying my tone’s distracting, Graham?”

“I’m saying everything you’re doing is distracting.” He tried to wave a hand, but it just ended up brushing your thigh. His eyes widened. “That wasn’t—I wasn’t trying to—”

You laughed at his confession. “My boyfriend is so adorable.”

He huffed and pointed at the beaker. “Adorable doesn’t pass chemistry. Now please, for the love of thermodynamics, just let me finish this reaction—”

“Fine, I’ll be good,” you said, drawing back with an exaggerated sigh. “So obedient.”

Warren glanced at you skeptically, then returned to the flask, mumbling, “God help me.”

But of course, he should know by now the glint of your eyes when you're lying or how your loving smile turns mischievous. His concentration didn’t even last for five seconds before pressing your lips on his cheeks, leaving a slight shine to it from your lip gloss.

He hissed your name in response, eyes darting around the door like a teacher might materialize out of thin air. 

“What? I didn’t touch the experiment.” You asked, biting your lower lip from bursting out laughing at how he looks. Earlier, he looked too much of a professional that he might be a chemist at this point, but now, he looked disheveled because of you, because of your constant teasing and flirting.

He let out a shaky sigh. “You touched me.”

“Well, Dr. Graham, I’m conducting an experiment as well as you see,” you replied sweetly. “I’m testing your ability to multitask under pressure.”

He groaned and let his head drop dramatically. “I’m never going to finish this lab report, am I?”

“It depends if you stop resisting and just kiss me already, then I might just leave you alone to finish this project.” You held up your right hand before continuing, “I promise, no distractions whatsoever.”

“Fuck it.” He pulled his gloves and tossed them to the counter before hopping off the stool he was sitting on to come between your thighs. “Ten minutes.”

“Time limit is non-negotiable; I decide when we stop.” You placed a kiss on the tip of his nose.

He thought about it for a few seconds. "Science can wait," he muttered before he pulled you by the collar to clash into yours with the intensity of pent-up energy that only weeks of late-night lab work and your constant teasing could create. 

His hands that were usually so calculated and careful, now tangled in your hair with a sort of frantic precision, pulling you closer as if chemistry didn’t exist beyond the heat between your bodies. Which made you gasp against his mouth, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, tilting his head and moving with surprising confidence for someone who just two minutes ago was blushing over saline measurements.

The stool beneath you wobbled slightly, on instant you shot up your hands to his shoulders to stabilize yourself, and in turn, he rested his on your waist, keeping you in place. Once he was able to come back to reality after he was drowning from your lips, he was quick to create some distance between the two of you.

“We’re gonna get detention if we knock over something radioactive.”

“I’ll take the risk,” you whispered before your hands slithered on his chest, tracing the hem of his lab coat, trying to hear how fast and loud his heartbeat is.

He groaned, cheeks still flushed, and his voice was low as if the two of you would be caught if he spoke loud enough. “You’re gonna be the death of me.” 

You laughed at his comment, in contrast to keeping his voice quiet. Your hands reached his cheeks, trying to make him look at you, but his eyes settled on the floor, clearly aware of how hot and bothered he had become. He’s still as red as a tomato like back then, but his actions and words are completely different once he got into it. 

“Death by makeout in Lab 3-B. At least it’ll be a scientific mystery.” This time, he laughed at your joke before resting his forehead against yours. 

You felt his hands that were perfectly resting on your waist gave a slight squeeze, “We really shouldn’t—” He tried to say it. (Trust me, he really did), but your fingers were already stripping him off his lab coat, and whatever point he was trying to make fizzled on his tongue. It was only the sweetness of your mouth that he could fucking taste.

“Say the word, Warren,” you murmured, lips brushing down his jaw, just to slightly push him over the edge. 

But it looked as if he was the one who sent himself over the edge as he sharply breathed to not lose himself with your scent, but that was all thrown out the window when you kissed him again—harder this time. His hands immediately went to your side to hoist you up and guided you to sit on the counter away from all those glassware, which had been long forgotten, along with his science report.

And somewhere in the back of his mind, Warren made a mental note: Never run an experiment with your significant other again unless you're ready to become the variable.

[sindar-princeling]

back again with another elvish culture theory: my first thought is that elvish forms of art and labor are characterized by time intensiveness; of course, elves are still susceptible to impatience and bound by the urgency of deadlines, but i imagine that they partake in lengthy projects beyond the scope of the lifetime of men. projects like la basilica de la sagadra familia in spain are incredible monuments because they’re enormous in scale and grandiose, and the timeline of their constructions lasts beyond their principal designers and architects. but for the elves? their lifespan implies that their designers would undertake missions at scales inconceivable to mortals—and i mean that both macroscopically and microscopically—with considerations that would seem baffling to us. i have this one image in my mind of an elven form of sculpting that relies on nothing but dripping water, in the same fashion that stalagmites/stalactites form; it’s such a cool image in my mind! of nothing but an elf with a pipette, painstakingly eroding the stone in such a gradual manner, literally drop by drop. it sounds painfully slow obviously, but i imagine that there are elvish spheres that exalt super slow methods of doing things, just like we have a certain reverence for some types of pre-industrial practices for the effort they necessitate.

(I'm sorry for only replying now! It's been an intense couple of months...)

I absolutely LOVE this, and I think it seems so very fitting to what we know of elven creations - they make things that last for millennia, some even past their own age and into the age of men. It only makes sense that the process would in some cases be just as lengthy. I really love your example of sculpting with water so, so much, it's such a lovely image.

You gave me so much food for thought with this ask, I'm going to be considering other forms of elven art all day for sure ncdjskhfkdjh

[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.

[auspiciouselephantintheroom]

On an Arranged Marriage with Itachi, part 2

Itachi and his wife have finally given in to pressure from their families and decided they have to make a baby. Itachi believes that his wife is not sexually or romantically interested in him as she has never given him any indication and he feels guilty that she was forced to marry him against her will. As such, he feels uncomfortable with the idea of sex with her, even if she says she is willing and would like to finally be a mother. Otherwise, he would happily have more intimate sex and even like to make her orgasm one way or another. Knowing that artificial insemination is a thing, he briefly contemplates asking her if he can, in lieu of sex, give her a pipette and a "sample." He quickly disregards this idea as both ridiculous and actually kind of insulting.

Itachi's wife, having mistakenly come the the conclusion that Itachi is secretly gay lovers with Shisui, feels uncomfortable with the idea of forcing Itachi to have sex with her. As good a friendship as they may have, he is in love with someone else and is not and never will be physically attracted to her. She would only be forcing him to do it against his will, no matter how much he says he is willing. Knowing that artificial insemination is a thing, she briefly contemplates asking him if he can instead give her a pipette and a "sample." She quickly disregards this idea as both just too weird and probably kind of insulting.

They end up having incredibly awkward sex.

Itachi is unsure how much physical touch she is comfortable with, as she has never expressed any interest in physical touch from him, even now just for the sake of it. In fact, she still seems reluctant. Instead of kissing, touching, or any form of intimacy, he simply does the thing and finishes as quickly as possibly, which still takes awkwardly long because of how weird this whole situation is.

Itachi's wife theoretically would be happy to have more intimate, friends with benefits type sex, but she secretly knows Itachi loves Shisui and does not want to force him to kiss or touch her when he otherwise would not. It's just wrong. Instead, she lies rigid with her hands clutching her pillow and facing away the entire time Itachi does his thing.

Afterwords, Itachi takes a shower and sleeps in the spare room/would-be nursery he has been using as a bedroom the entire marriage.

Neither of them speak of or acknowledge this incident ever again.

[violaobanion]

A curious anon kindly asked me to do a wee coloring tutorial of my gifs from The Empress (Die Kaiserin), specifially season two. So here goes!

Before we start, it's worth to note you will need photoshop to replicate this. Or some other similar software/web app. Idk. I use photoshop myself, so that's what I know.

(also pardon my norwegian. still haven't figured out how to turn it into english, so all screenshots will be with norwegian words on them)

I'll be using the gif in the header of this post, and this is how it looks with no filter/coloring (only sharpening):

I used the coloring for this on all the gifs I have made of season two of the The Empress, with some small adjustments when needed.

CURVES

I like to start of my coloring base with a few curves layers and build from there. One for light colors, one for mid/greys (??) and one for dark/shadows. I use the pipette tool to select what colors to balance in each layer.

Light:

Mid/grey:

Dark/shadows:

NOTE: There is no "one size fits all" kind of thing with curves. You have to adjust it a little to every single show or movie, or sometimes every single gif you make to make it look as good as possible. And the way to do that is to activate the pipette in the curves layer and click on different areas on your gif until you get the contrast/balance you like.

You can also do it all (light/mid/dark) in one layer, but i prefer to do them seperately. In case i fuck up.

Now our gif looks like this:

2. LEVELS

We could of course stop there.... but we won't. We need some finishing touches. The devil's in the details, or whatever they say.

Therefore, on to levels!

These were the settings I used. They can of course be adjusted if they're to heavy or light or whatever, depending on the gif at hand.

Now it looks like this:

Not the biggest difference, but trust the process, mkay?

3. COLOR BALANCE

Settings:

Gif:

4. PHOTO FILTER

Settings:

Gif:

5. GLOW

Setting:

Gif:

And now for the final step.

6. BLACK-WHITE

Settings:

NOTE: The opcity of this layer is set to 36%.

Gif:

Et voilà, as they say. I hope this was helpful 🥰

And, like already mentioned, these layers are all adjusted a little to every single gif. The type of layers I use varies from show to show, so this is a mere suggestion. But I always use the curves layers as my base. I love them, most ardently.

[midstpodcast]

The music and sound design for Midst is absolutley masterful. You mentioned some cool and weird methods of making noises for the Fold - can you tell us of any other unconventional objects or noises youve used to create some of the tracks?

🎷: YES, YEP, I can tell you about cool and weird sounds ANYtime. Here’re a few fun ones in brief:

The Blinding’s sounds are heavily remixed and modified vocalizations from a variety of different types of seals.      

Years ago I had access to a storeroom full of defunct old A/V and electronic gear including old film projectors, vintage adding machines, typewriters, strange retro printers, and loads of other obscure electronics from the 50s-70s. I recorded tons of random audio in there of various contraptions doing various things, and a lot of that vintage machinery is what makes up the mechanical ambience of the Trust bank machines in the Central Vault and in Imelda’s mission.

S1E12 “Coda” was probably the most wild sound production episode of season 1, and I had several days of fun throwing myself bodily around the room, knocking over furniture, smashing pomagranates, and generally hyperventilating while semi-literally strangling myself. 10/10, would repeat. Good times. 

We decided that teletheric devices in Midst emit sound not with diaphragmatic speakers, but with organ-like pipettes that emit overtones (you can see them pictured in the episode icon for S1E03) – so processing audio in Midst to sound like it was coming out of a teletheric wasn’t just a simple process of making it sound “radio-y” with some EQing, but rather a fun techno-anthropological process of converting audio into mechanically-accurate harmonic sidebands based on the technology in-universe that we decided was creating that sound.

The reality-eating sound of the Tearror consuming the cave in S2E04 is 75% the sound of my cat snoring and digesting his breakfast. I stuck a stereo mic under his belly while he napped and recorded the whoosh of his breathing, the pulse of his heartbeat, and the gurgle of his lil' cat intestines for use as the stuff of nightmares. Scary sounds can sometimes come from very cute places!

[perfectisgeorgette]

Georgette nodded her head with a smile. “Of course I know some of the SIX girls! Hannah Lowther and I have know each other for a few years! She just picked up her third queen to swing roster! Anne Boylen I believe.”Georgette met Hannah during their showcase prep; their coach has been from the same outfit. “I just saw her last weekend while I was in London for my friends bachelorette!” Grabbing her Diet Coke she took another few sips before swirling the ice in the cup. Of course Pip knew about SIX it was iconic. “I will reach out to her and get two tickets? We can auction them off…fundraising made easy and classy.” It was the least she could do.

Plus with this town theater production on the horizon Georgette wanted be in the right circle and Pip was obviously it.

“Now back to the gossip darling…” Georgette could care less if Pip was submitting things to the local gossip monger. The Spill was cute…Swynlakes personal dumoix (spelled wrong sry). Georgette was trying her hardest to get over her minor scandal. In the grand scheme of things it was not that big of a deal - it was the break in the perfection and her perception that was daunting. “So I did my own little research on Annie and she hijacked that Triton girls makeup line. That’s absolutely insane.” Pursed lips she was judging now. That was insane. “Piled on by internet loser is never good; I should know. I brought my own waterfall of hate on all by myself.” Tilting her head her smile was at her own expense. “Learned my lesson though…I just feel like that whole Annie situation is due to insecurities or something…her relationship with Gaston seems bizarre too.”

@exsqueak-me

Fabulous with a side of ranch | Pipette

[junhuiste]

experi-meant to be ⋆ park wonbin

pairing: wonbin x gn reader

tags/warnings: fluff, cursing, college au, laboratory environment, one mention of baking, 1600 words

a/n: i meant to publish this on valentine’s day since i had lab that day but i never finished it lol. there’s some microbio lab procedure jargon so like this is what streaking plates is if you want a visual lmfaoao. this is my first published work in like three years it feels weird haha + i might change my layout/header for fics but for now i’ll keep the same layout i've had for past fics

wonbin believes U are the uracil to his adenine—you should always be paired together.

| seunghan: dude 

| seunghan: lowkey i can’t come to lab bc my car won’t fucking start so i’ll have to make it up next week :\ but taehyun and his partner would probably be willing to help you out with calculations and clean up hopefully

Wonbin pants heading up the stairs into the classroom lab, cheeks immediately pink as he’s made a spectacle amongst everyone already sitting and tuned into the TA’s pre-lab lesson. Sighing as he processes Seunghan’s text, Wonbin turns to the drawing of bacterial growth curves on the whiteboard but is soon after preoccupied with the fact that there is no Taehyun on a stool. There’s just your backside entirely in front of him. 

Taehyun is one to set up all his materials before the TA even steps foot through the lab door so if he isn’t here now then that means—

“Guess you’re stuck with me for today.” 

Wonbin tries to swallow but it gets stuck halfway down his throat and is about to go into a choke type cough frenzy when he surprises himself and softly clears his throat instead. His thoughts are all just stuck there—in the middle of his esophagus, begging for them to travel back up to his brain so he has enough stamina to stick it through the four hour class. 

“No hate to him because Taehyunnie’s a tad faster at getting through the steps, so you know, we’re usually out thirty minutes early, but I can promise you I’m better at calculations. And I’m more precise with measurements,” you let out a small giggle before setting your backpack on the floor next to Wonbin’s.

The commotion of pipettes being thrown onto the surface, glass tubes clinking, and sneakers squeaking rushing to obtain their samples is right away drowned out in Wonbin’s ears by the sight of you perched atop the stool a mere few inches away from him. He tries to keep his chest from heaving at bay by taking his notebook out of his backpack and reviewing the method for today’s class. The solution is only short lived though, promptly taking notice of how you gather materials from the drawer while simultaneously reading through your own notebook. 

Every Tuesday and Thursday, Wonbin assumes his seat in the third to last row of his Virology lecture, close enough to the door that he can be among the first to leave as soon as “see you guys next time” leaves Professor Choi’s lips. He longs for the day (ideally it would be quite before the last week of classes but realistically that’s the best he has to offer for now) that he musters up just the slightest bit of courage to join you and Taehyun in the second row, where Seunghan also occasionally accompanies you two. It’s only the third week of this semester, but perhaps the sixth course of his over the past three years Wonbin’s seen you in. From Biochemistry to Rhetoric 2, he has never taken place at a desk next to yours. 

Wonbin’s always aching to know how you’d answer everything he could ever ask you, be it the attendance quiz question or your weekend plans—what time you usually roll out of bed, whether or not you stroll to the local farmer’s market near campus, if you’re spending Saturday with a special someone. He needs to hear you laugh at Taehyun’s cynicism about college. He needs to hear it up close, not having to strain his ear when he’s fifteen rows behind when you crack up at your friend during the five minute break Professor Choi gives the class. 

But Wonbin will take what he can get for now, and if that’s helping you fulfill your wish of completing the lab procedure as quickly as possible, he’ll do it. 

“I can do the calculations for us,” you begin, “would you mind getting our mutant strains at the front of the class and streak the Petri dishes?” 

Wonbin nods almost too enthusiastically and curses at himself for seeming embarrassingly desperate in front of you. Sure, he’d like to muster up the courage to ask you out, but today he’ll try to take it one step at a time.

When Wonbin returns with new plates to grow your bacteria on and two tubes filled with your bacterial strains, you scoot your chair closer to his to later show the finished calculations. He catches a whiff of your light perfume and almost falls out of his own chair. 

As he’s setting up the Bunsen burner for sterilization, you chuckle, “you know the real reason Taehyun’s not here today is because he left town last night to get a head start on the extravagant romantic weekend he has planned with Gaeul.”

“If there’s one way to use our one free unexcused absence, that’ll do it,” Wonbin replies. 

“Do you have any plans for Valentine’s Day, Wonbin? I mean if you did I just hope you wouldn’t leave me early like Taehyun did,” your eyes meet his for a brief second before flitting back to your notebook.

Wonbin’s grip on the matchstick to light the burner loosens. He just barely catches himself before the match could fall from his hand onto the lab bench. What he needed to get a grip on was his fucking sanity—he almost set the classroom on fire because his heart instead is aflame for yours. 

Taking a breath, Wonbin exhales when the flame turns to blue, finally lighting the Bunsen burner. 

“Nope, no plans,” he briefly turns to you. There’s a beat and he considers that asking you back would seem too forward, but he does it anyway. 

Upon seeing your grin before you open your mouth, he turns his attention right back to the tubes and plates in front of him. 

It’s so over. 

For a second Wonbin’s relieved, because he thinks he can actually get through the next two hours without overthinking his micro movements in front of you. Now that it’s over for him, maybe he can actually pay attention to the way the metal loop he’s holding makes contact with the jelly-like agar inside the plastic plate and not disappoint Seunghan with the results. However, it’s not realistic because even still, Wonbin takes note of all your beauty and remains completely bewitched.

“Honestly I wish...I mean Minjeong, Yunjin and I are gonna do a rom-com binge and bake desserts…but you know…not any plans with someone like that…” 

Your temporary lab partner tries to hide his smile and nods silently as he continues switching between spreading bacteria on the plate with the metal loop and then sterilizing the loop in the blue flame. 

The rest of lab goes smoothly as Wonbin tries to quell the embers within him for the time remaining. There’s forty minutes left but technically to you Wonbin knows time is dashing away and it should feel like there’s what but only ten minutes left to do everything. Your pair was a few steps ahead of the others, just like how it would be when Taehyun accompanied you every week. 

Wonbin has been psyching himself up the past two hours to finally ask you out but currently he’s stuck in his head and just can’t seem to get it out. Does he chase you after you’ve stepped foot out of the lab or should he leave you be? Or maybe he can try next week. He’ll keep telling himself that until there’s one day of instruction left and then he won’t see you for three months and then he’ll lament the entire summer to Seunghan that he didn’t say shit. 

He can do that…or just rip the bandage off at an agonizing speed. 

The last Petri dish that Wonbin holds is being wrapped in parafilm to prevent contamination. He’d been going through the motions of the procedure while simultaneously not paying attention to his surroundings, at his own self’s behest. You’ve already cleaned the entire lab bench and he doesn’t notice until he hears “see you in Virology,” and suddenly you’re slinging your backpack over your shoulder. 

It’s now or next week…or never—wait you know that Wonbin’s in your Virology class? What you said is ringing in his ears and it hits him all at once.

Petri dishes in hand and turning around, Wonbin freezes in his tracks.

“Um…”

Your eyebrows furrow.

“Do you want to hang out tomorrow?” his own mouth betrays him and suddenly it’s all coming out much too quickly for his liking. 

You’re about to answer but before you can even get a word in, “I-I don’t mean to interfere with your plans with your friends but uh, if you wanted to do something like that I’m down.”

Your lips press into a line and Wonbin is about to pass out from the threatening fluorescent classroom lights. 

“Park Wonbin…are you asking me out on a date?” He can practically feel his sweat melting the parafilm tape off and a vision of him dropping the Petri dishes in front of you, cracking open and shattering, exposing E.coli to everyone in the room flashes before him. He blinks once and calms his vice grip on the plates. 

“Yes. Yes I am asking you out on a date,” Wonbin looks down at your sneakers, not knowing where else to shift his gaze to. 

“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow then,” you smirk, slinging the other strap of your backpack over your other shoulder and saluting.

Park Wonbin swears his heart is on fire and does a backflip off a fifty foot cliff. A curve forming on his lips, he smiles slightly waving with the plates still in his hand, “see ya…”

You halt your forward movement and turn back around, “Wonbin?” he perks up again, “you should sit next to me in lecture on Tuesday.”