hehe hi j!! :DD i do have a few ocs across a couple different stories but whether i ever end up doing anything w them is yet to be seen….. the one i mentioned in that post is jay and this is he:
he’s actually not the protag of the story he exists in and i never got around to fully fleshing out the worldbuilding HAHA but basically it’s an urban fantasy setting and he’s a self-taught mage who relies on magitech weapons bc he can’t draw enough magic on his own. learning magic may or may not have enabled his inherent feral nature and reckless tendencies, so he got the Cool Scar™️ by challenging someone to a fight and losing….. badly
he has a lot of backstory stuff that i came up with last year but i’ve been thinking i want to rework the plot so that is up in the air for now :’D
Hi! I was wondering what theme you used for your recommendations page. It's super pretty and responseive.
sorry for the super late reply! I used southcode's fic rec page #1 ‘alice′. I'm a big fan of her works, she's very talented and has a lot of great themes
So I was struggling to get back into writing MorMor so I tried 3 sentence Aus and I quite like them :)
One of Us (Were AU)
Rejection wasn’t new to Sebastian, but the bitter taste it left in his mouth when the verdict was passed time and time again never became easier to bare and this time was no different. He nodded once, trying to ignore the primal urge welling up in him to shift and destroy them which he knew would be as easy as blinking as they were frail, old, human- The were-tiger cut that thought off, abruptly turning on his heel and prowling out of the door, distantly aware of the grinning gaze that followed him from a nearby rooftop, but he was more aware of his phone buzzing out the arrival of a text message: Be seeing you soon ;)
Everytime (Angel/Demon AU)
Jim knew his most recent acquisition wasn’t strictly speaking human and he also knew that Moran knew that he wasn’t human either, but out of what Jim referred to as professional courtesy and what Moran referred to as keeping his mouth shut, it was never brought up. However rules were made to be broken and this one was not only broken it was torn down, shredded then set on fire as Jim hissed and swore, hands pressed against the hole in abdomen before eventually letting out a final screech of annoyance, scorched golden wings erupted from his back, more bone and scars than feather and skin as the wound healed.
“An angel? A Fallen one? I’m working for an angel, of course I fucking am! Bet my old man’s pissing himself laughing at this,” Sebastian growled, scratching at horn as he paced backwards and forwards, striped tail lashing from side to side as Jim looked on, grin from ear to ear.
Love Drunk (Uni AU/That AU I saw about having next door wake up on your couch or something like that)
Jim prided himself on having the newest and best state of the art security, updated weekly and tested by the finest thieves he could get his hands on from the seedy underbelly of London because if he had to live in a university dorm, he was going to be as safe and secure as possible. None of that explained the man currently sprawled across his sofa, muddy boots kicked off haphazardly and arm thrown up, concealing his face but revealing tanned skin and black ink curling invitingly across it where the shirt rode up.
The stranger groaned, fingers pressing into eyes to ward of the impending hangover before looking around himself in apparent surprise before saying, “This ain’t my room,” as his head lolled backwards, spotting Jim and continuing with a sly grin, “Your security must be all that good,” as Jim gritted his teeth, plans already beginning to spiral into his brain.
A Thousand Miles (Reinbach Falls AU?)
Walk until you’ve worn out the soles of three pairs of iron shoes was how the fairy tale had went, but this was most definitely not a fairytale and a hedgehog prince would be easier to find than this goddamn target and yet Sebastian kept on walking, boots long gone and the soles of his feet as tough as leather and he kept walking in order to not draw their attention from place to place, country to country all for him. The bell of the little café dinged as he pushed it open, bone weary and drenched to the bone, and made his way to the counter, tremors wracking his body so much he could barely order.
“Are you okay? Sarah get the shock blanket!” The cashier called as Sebastian’s legs gave out, the man falling heavily to his knees as he tried to struggle back upright before a warm orange blanket was wrapped around his shoulders, the cashier forcing the ex-snipers gaze to meet his own hauntingly familiar ones before Sebastian’s gaze dropped again to the name tag: Richard Brooke, his lost hedgehog prince.
[The Hedgehog Prince is a fairytale similar to Beauty and the Beast but the princess has to walk to find her husband after almost killing him after being tricked by her mother/a witch]
Persepective: First Meetings (WtNV) [Multiple Pairings]
Five different couples in the same situations
Marcus and Jake design belong to zenamiarts (and that scenario is theirs too :)
Divina is Mistress-Strex's character and Ricardo is Strexcorpking's
i) Their first meeting was definitely not conventional if it could be referred to as that at all since the first Carlos knew of the other was when the Scientist walked into his kitchen to find a human shaped being balanced precariously on his kitchen chair, pale green newspaper spread across their knees and coffee cup, drained of liquid, resting on the table next to their feet.
Carlos had been in Night Vale for a few days now and was slowly but surely getting used to the strange customs and rules that this small yet bustling community lived by but a stranger at his kitchen table was not something he had experienced before, at least not in this regard as he had encountered many of his sister’s boyfriends and girlfriends alike at the table before.
Quickly casting his mind back he remembered the tiny scrap of fabric that had dangled on top of his centrifuge in the lab, declaring in delicate white thread in clear letters, that he would be visited by one the Sheriff’s Secret Police in order to help him adjust to life in Night Vale. It had reminded Carlos of ‘A Christmas Carol’ before he promptly and accidentally forgot about it, too concerned with the thick purple sludge his hairdryer had emitted this morning and why his co-workers were distracted by the radio and exchanging
looks
.
It took the setup of a speech to text programme and a free hour to read the transcripts through before bed to realise why and his ears still burned when he thought about the compliments he was given by the radio presenter.
“Are you from the Sheriff’s Secret Police?” Carlos asked carefully, ensuring that every word was pronounced to the best of his ability, cringing even so. The figure carefully refolded the newspaper and stood up, multiple bandanas wrapped tightly around their face so that not even a trace of skin could be seen and mirrored ski goggles ensuring that their identity remained a secret as well as any expression currently displayed on their face. They nodded, holding out a piece of paper, waiting patiently for Carlos to hesitantly take, fingers fumbling slightly as he pushed his glasses further up his nose.
My name is Raziel. I will be keeping an eye on you as per regulations which you have been informed about by the City Council in your welcome pack. You will only see me when regulations are altered or are breached to an extent which is unacceptable even with the leniency given to you as an outsider.
“O-oh, okay. Erm- It’s not that I wish to question your capabilities, but I-“
Raziel cut him off in complete silence holding up one hand before another scrap of fabric, this time a lurid orange was pulled from out of their sleeve and passed to him.
I am perfectly capable of my job Mr Scientist. I do not wish to speak which is why I am communicating like this. I hope this will not be a problem but I can also communicate in sign language if you prefer. Or email, text or another variety of written communication if you’d prefer.
“N-no that’s more than fine,” Carlos said, relief filling him, “But if I won’t see you, then why are you in the kitchen? And what will happen in the lab? I mean I understand that you have your orders but then I also have to do my work which is very important and is rife with potential scientific discoveries such as the kettle for instance and well we really can’t afford any contamination especially around some of the more sensitive equipment and samples seeing as they seem to react violently to certain colours for reasons we haven’t discovered and well…”
I will wear a lab coat Mr Scientist. I won’t interfere with your job so long as you don’t interfere with mine. And I like your kitchen. Your kettle is less violent than my own and I wish to have coffee that doesn’t run the risk of dismemberment.
“I’ll exchange free run of kitchen and kettle if you will help me collect samples on occasion? You must have a wider range of access to Night Vale then I do?”
Raziel laughed silently, clapping gloved hands together in glee and nodding frantically. Carlos could practically see the thoughts of free caffeinated drinks passing through their head.
I’m going to like this assignment Mr Scientist. Just let me grab another drink while you get ready for your job? The stop signs are being most difficult this morning so you’ll need to set off early.
ii) Shaun’s hands trembled violently as he held the package before him, re-reading the information already imprinted on his brain for what seemed like the millionth time in a vain attempt to calm his nerves: Cecil Gershwin Palmer, Radio Booth Number 7, Night Vale Radio Station, State, America, Universe Number 332.
The package itself was fairly standard, a nondescript box wrapped in bright pink paper, decorated by silver swirls with the paper only marred by a large white square stuck on the centre with the address neatly printed on the front over the top of the mandatory dark brown sigil. It hummed comfortingly but now the sound jarred Shaun, fingers drumming frantically against the side of the box in a counter tempo as he waited for the lift to arrive, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth. His first day and already he was being sent up to go and see the main radio host, the man whose voice awoke him in the mornings, whose voice lulled him to sleep at nights and whose comforting murmur filled his waking hours until it felt as if he could drown in that gorgeous voice. However he had never seen Cecil in person, and yet he fell in love with the other man, all without seeing his face as strange as it seemed. And now, like all the other Shaun’s in the Sales department, he was working in the radio station after first being forced to climb out of the cavernous pit filled with something that hissed ominously in the darkness like everyone else, and which was how every day was started.
The ding of the lift reclaimed Shaun’s attention and he stepped in, hearing the doors immediately slide shut behind him with a high pitched screech that trailed away into quiet whistling as an Intern slipped in on the next floor, giving him a half wave with one hand even as the others balanced files and gently steaming coffee cups before she exited on the next floor. Shaun left on the next floor up, no less nervous than he had been upon entering the elevator, but a tad less shaky. A perverse calm seemed to have infected his body and the corridors passed by him quickly until he was waiting outside of the door. It seemed fairly normal as far as doors in Night Vale went, no immediate dangers seemed to appear the longer he stared at it and yet that door terrified him, but he had a job to do. Double checking the address against the sign, handwritten in a childish scrawl, he carefully knocked on the door, hearing the mumbled voice within halt and then calls louder.
“Hello?”
Shaun took a deep breath and opened the door as quietly as possible, stepping into the darkened radio station.
“I have to say listeners I have never seen this name before- oh wait,” A smile lit up Cecil’s face before he continued, “It’s Shaun from Sales, how could I possibly not recognise him, however I do believe that this is a new Shaun everyone.” He waited for the nod before continuing, “Well welcome to our radio show Shaun and we all thank you and the other Shaun’s down in sales for all the hard work that they do for us here in the Night Vale Community Radio. I’ll be just a moment and then we can return to our scheduled broadcast."
“You are Cecil Gershwin Palmer?” Shaun queried, shrugging his shoulder slightly at the raised eyebrow because rules were rules after all.
“Yes I am,” Cecil replied holding out his hands, dark skin and light skin coiling and curving around long fingers and disappearing up underneath his sleeves, for the package. Shaun stood there, fingernails biting into palms as he waited for Cecil to finish his inspection of the box and he stared at Cecil, trying to imprint the image onto his brain. Steve Carlsberg insulted Cecil, but all Shaun could see was beauty, the patches of paler skin formed complex curves and circles that he itched to trace, scars littered the visible skin, silvery in the light, and all Shaun could think about was kissing each and every one of them, and tattoos that flickered languidly, colours swirling and changing in the blink of an eye. Shaun was head over heels and couldn’t find it within himself to care.
“Thank you Shaun,” Cecil said, before adding, voice deepening, “I do hope to see you again.”
Shaun nodded robotically and managed to let himself out of the booth, cheeks red.
Inside the booth Cecil chewed his thumb thoughtfully before continuing with show, the strange Shaun lingering in his thoughts.
iii) Jake Zhang pulled the threadbare hood over his head as a gentle rain beat sporadically down upon the dry and cracking paving stones, feet rebounding against the pavement. One breath in, two breaths and jump over the sprawling creature that lived under that paving stone, mouth less tentacles snapping at his heels, mumble a quick prayer to the buzzing cloud of darkness that swirled over head as it chose to divert from its prearranged City Council approved path to follow him for an uncountable length of time, before a hand grabbed his arm and pulled him into the closest building.
Jake had not fought his way to the rank of Dark Scout, the badge adorning the chest of his hoodie with uneven shaking stitches, to let himself be taken quite so easily. He threw his head back aiming for his unknown assailant’s nose and feeling it crack as he pulled against the reflexively weakened hold to run out of the alley. The strong arm of a Secret Policeman wrapping around his waist halted Jake’s escape and he went limp, his instincts as a Night Valeian too ingrained for him to struggle against them.
[Go to the Night Vale Private Library Jake. You have something you need to do there. Also we put some money underneath your kettle for celebrating later.]
His breath caught in his throat and he slumped, hands slamming against the cold hard ground as the arm around his waist disappeared, words still ringing in his head and stabbing through his mind with all the icy cold of a steel knife. Raising his head, he blinked slowly, allowing the green film to slowly slip away from his vision. Towering in front of him in all its opulent glory, twinkling gems embedded into the solidified gold that functioned as concrete in between silvery-white bricks that he knew was platinum, was the Night Vale Private Library.
Library…
Librarians!
Jake scrambled onto his feet, heart pounding in his chest as he tried to dive away from the Night Vale Public library, the giant building too close, always too close to him and found that he couldn’t move, jerking onto the floor. He yelped, hands scraped raw from repeated contact with the floor and Jake yanked at his feet in a vain attempt to get them to move, finally managing to stagger a few steps in the direction of the Private Library, in all its ridiculously over the top shininess.
[Just go inside! I have money riding on this!]
He wasn’t about to argue with the Secret Police this close to the Library, even though he didn’t understand what they were trying to tell him and he ran into the building, worn shoes slipping slightly on the burnished metal steps that led into the building. Thankfully the door was wooden, but upon a slightly closer inspection as he pushed it open and slipped into the building, quietly closing it behind him, it was African Blackwood. And he bit back a sigh, mentally counting backwards from ten and began to walk towards the sole light source which was emanating from behind a slightly ajar door, a little further down the corridor. Upon reaching the door, Jake pushed back his hood, dark hair flopping forward partially blocking his field of vision and raised his hand to knock.
“What!?”
Jake leaped back as the door was flung open and someone stormed out, face set in righteous fury and howling in anger exited the building. He stared into the room and raised an eyebrow at Marcus Vansten, who grinned lavishly back, beckoning Jake into the well-furnished room as he reclined further back on the chair.
“You’re here for the interview?”
“Evidently,” Jake replied calmly, walking into the room and taking the offered seat. He wasn’t going to turn his nose up at any job at this point, especially one with such a low fatality rate of almost zero.
This seemed to be going well, Jake mused as Marcus posed another question, golden rings glittering as he waved his hands, still reclining in the chair so that he was nearly completely out of sight and that fact alone was causing Jake to become increasingly… not nervous, nor intimidated (though he was well aware of that particular stereotype for both of them with Jake being Asian and Marcus being black) but something felt off, as if these next few moments were crucial and he did not like that. Jake prided himself on being in control of everything he legally and possibly could, and then in control of some things he was not allowed to be. And then it happened.
Marcus stood up in all his naked glory, expansive of free uncovered mahogany skin suddenly visible, and held out a hand for Jake to shake, an almost shit eating grin plastered on his face as if he believed that he had won some sort of game.
Jake didn’t flinch or react save for the reflexive raising of an eyebrow and shook Marcus’ hand, carefully sweeping his gaze upwards from where it had originally been to level it at the billionaires head and from the surprised look that got him, Jake had won.
“When can you start?” Marcus asked, laughter trickling into his voice.
“Now,” Jake said with a slight shrug, “Provided you can put some clothes on while I dismiss the other potential applicants who may turn up.”
“But I don’t wanna!”
“Sir you are a grown man. Put your pants on.”
iv) The Mute Children were long gone.
And now he was alone.
Nothing seemed right anymore.
It was slowly getting more difficult to think, the once easy task degenerating into being almost impossible as his thoughts slowed, becoming thicker like treacle where once they had been as light as air. But yet throughout it all he still remained. Not quite alive and not quite dead. Just here. And then he wasn’t.
This morning started off like any other for Caesar Strex: his radio flickered on filling his room with Kevin’s cheery tones (he ignored the slight edge to the man’s tone as he did every morning, even when it continued onto the day), the humming of the kettle as his tiny apartment responded to his stronger heartbeat and slowly buzzed into life around him, and the faint and frantic beeping noise as his phone began to sound off everything of lower importance that he had missed, mainly texts from Divina and the rest of his siblings, and one finally low rumble as his schedule for the day arrives from Ricardo, having being calculated a week before. He blinked, glancing down at his hands, feeling off kilter as he did every morning, seeing the small pale blue pills resting in the palm of one hand and a cup of black coffee in the other. For a moment he remained quiet, unmoving as the city woke up around him, a growing pain beginning to erupt behind his eyes before he pushed the pills into his mouth and washed them down with a gulp of coffee, the strong liquid burning his mouth slightly. Blissful, pain free silence. Well that was enough of that. Downing the rest of the coffee he disappeared back into the bedroom, phone in one hand as he scrolled through the list. After all he had work to do.
Heat. Burning, blistering, agonising heat.
He was still alone, no-one to help him.
So what could he do but scream and scream and scream, both soundlessly and with a broken voice, until he had no voice?
Scream, scream, scream.
Unsurprisingly the sudden and unexpected appearance of a humanoid directly in front of his car as he driving, screams being ripped from their throat as they dropped to their knees, curling in on themselves was not on Caesar's schedule. Unexpected materialisations were next Tuesday and those were strictly bird like in nature. Humanoid was not on the list and that annoyed him. Someone would have to tell Ricardo that his schedule was wrong and considering the truly terrifying tantrum the other had thrown it was not going to be him. Luckily Caesar hadn’t hit the man, car stopping automatically as it sensed the obstacle, and he sighed, rubbing his forehead in exasperation, before gracefully climbing out and walking over to them, crouching down next to him a few feet away.
“Hello?”
Car? Car!
That was a car.
Too loud, so loud, too hot, burning, too much.
Where was the dark? Where were the children?
His Scouts? He had tried to protect them.
Footsteps? A person? Another someone in this confusing Not-Void?
Hello?
Hello?
“Help…”
Caesar carefully reached out a hand, one holding his gun that pointed cautiously at them and nudged their shoulder. They moved easily, limply flopping onto one side silently, eyes darting underneath pale lids. Freckles span across his skin like trapped constellations as Caesar pressed his palm to their forehead, noting the unnatural chill emanating from the other. His phone buzzed and he answered with a practiced ease: “Hello?”
“You’re late Caesar,” Divina cooed in his ear, sounding delighted which was never good, “You better have a good excuse or that baby picture of you in the bath with the foam beard is getting sent to everyone. So?”
“I found something Ricardo tantrum worthy,” he said quickly, scowling. How did she keep finding those? “Cover for me? This is definitely worthy of Strex Corp attention.”
And by Strex Corp, he meant himself with a quick bullet for anyone who tried to butt in, family or no family.
“Fine. But you run interference for me for two weeks,” she said, hanging up immediately afterwards.
Caesar sighed and turned back to the unconscious man.
Earl Harlan, missing Scoutmaster of Night Vale, that persistent thorn in the Strex Family’s side.
“My name is Caesar Strex, Earl Harlan,” he informed the man, voice low and threatening, “You are in my care now.”
A shiver ran down Earl’s spine and he opened his eyes to stare directly at the man, and yet did not. One pair of eyes remained closed, and one opened to stare at the dark eyed man in front of him, the rest of his words being tucked neatly into Earl’s mind to be processed later, because baby photos? It was pointless to try and run and yet he could not move, even if he could think with more coherence now and so he succumbed to his fate, not willingly but with a sense of future escape and sabotage.
v) The time that Daniel first met Kevin was a bright spark of pale purple in amongst the endless dark yellows and reds of his Strex Corp approved work and he would never forget it.
Kevin has ‘met’ Daniel multiple times and the supervisor remembers these for him. They are blue and are soft and sad, but happy.
Dark fingers interrupted the soft yellow curve of the woman’s trousers for a brief moment before she gripped his wrist, tugging him forward with sharp, almost birdlike movements, before turning her sharp gaze back to Daniel {correction: D413L. No official human name has been given}. He remained perfectly still, finding no need to fidget (unlike his handler) under such scrutiny. After all it wasted potentially valuable energy and time that could be spent listening to the data at hand. The woman {Data not currently available, pending further examination of D413L} smiled, a thin movement that seemed more at home on a reptile than a person, and shifted her grip to the boy’s shoulder, talons {correction: nails} digging in slightly, fabric creasing.
“Who is this? Comply,” she instructed, her voice rich and deep, the voice of a woman not used to being ignored. And he complied, turning his gaze onto the child, who gazed back, something unknown present in his three eyes.
“Subject is K3V, also named Kevin Raphael Free by Strex,” Daniel {correction: D413L} answered, smoothly ignoring the automatic beep of his programming and quickly altering the records that the engineers and scientists could access. After all they had made him to be as human as possible and therefore he possessed theoretical emotions. And he had decided a few seconds after he was activated for the first time here in this room, that he did not like that part of his programming. This entire thought process had taken up a fraction of a second as so Daniel was ready and alert to respond to the next query.
“What is your purpose? Comply.”
“To assist Strex,” he answered simply.
She nodded appearing pleased before pushing Kevin forward towards Daniel.
“You will remain with him for the remainder of the day. You will acclimatise yourself to Strex and to Desert Bluffs. Kevin will contact us with any problems you may encounter. Derek!”
His handler flinched, as though electrocuted and scurried after the woman {Mrs Strex, also dubbed Mama Strex. Refer to as directed by her} nervously babbling as he did so.
“I won’t tell them.”
Daniel frowned at the statement, crouching down as Kevin drew closer, the boy looking at him and yet through him simultaneously while the third eye tattooed on his forehead glanced around the lab.
“Tell them what?”
“That you aren’t fully under their control, that the drugs don’t work on you, that you’ve already altered your programming- Don’t worry,” Kevin grinned, teeth sharp, “They don’t work on me yet either.”
Fingers curled into Daniel’s, oddly cool against the synthetic skin which was heated by tiny coils of wire underneath surface and allowed the boy to pull him along, chattering away in a friendly voice and occasionally glancing back to make sure Daniel was following. And he knew that he would follow this boy to the ends of the earth, but he did not know why until much later.
“Kevin there is someone I am simply dying to introduce you to!”
Lauren’s trill was audible through solid wall and it made Daniel’s head ache. He silently cursed his creator for being a bit too realistic occasionally, but what was done was done. And this particular event was one of Lauren’s favourite past times. He remained fairly confident that she had word of mouth orders to keep regularly testing Daniel’s ‘emotional’ response. The fact that she disliked Daniel was simply sweetening the deal.
“Daniel~ Could you come out here please? We have a new employee!”
He pressed the flat of his palm against the scanner, receiving and dismissing the notification that his skin had been broken, all in silence, which was more to annoying Lauren who always squealed when the doors needed to be opened. It slid open and there he was. All it took was a second and it was all sealed into Daniel’s memory, hidden and protected. Faint purple ringed one eye and peeked out from underneath the buttercup yellow collar, red claw marks present on his arms, hands shook slightly as Kevin clasped them together, weight resting entirely on his left foot but his smile remained the same. And Daniel fell in love all over again.
Was it possible for the same noise to come out of so many different people at different times? It made his hand itch to reach for the scalpel to check but Diego managed to restrain himself. After all Kevin had made him promise to not experiment on any of his colleagues as it was 'demoralising' or something like that. The things he put up with for that radio host. "Uh huh." Diego let out a groan, slamming his head into the desk as pain shot up though his wrist. Why did no one believe that he got repetitive strain injury from shaking test tubes and not other activities?
I wasn't kidding when I said I would put my A Level revision into Cecilos and Dievin and Cecearl fics. Bet you thought I was. I'm going to have to hand this in as homework tomorrow which is why there is much romance (like at all) but meh
Quiet music filled the small laboratory, the colours it evoked in the mind perfectly complimentary to the many bubbling liquids that filled the surfaces as a man quietly hummed along, unconsciously drumming his fingers against his thigh as he stared into the depths of the beaker that slowly changed into a vibrant shade of purple, before a small flower appeared in the depths, grinning at him with a mouth full of fangs. A year ago he would have cried out in shock, flinching backwards as he was filled with shock and a burning curiosity, but now he only sighed, making a quick notation on the piece of paper attached to the clipboard before tipping the solution into a bright yellow beaker, hazard sign visible and moving to set up the experiment again.
A knock on the door caught his attention and Carlos carefully placed the beaker into the bin, stepping away from the chemicals before pulling the safety goggles off. He should be alone in the lab today as the others were all out, some testing the sand in the Desert that they believed caused hallucinations, some hanging around outside the non-existent house, and some where just enjoying a long awaited day off. The knock sounded again, a tad more hesitant this time, quieter as if they were unsure and Carlos shrugged to himself, crossing to the door and opened it, the music spilling out of the lab into the early morning.
“Hello Carlos!” Cecil said, grinning up at the scientist with delight even as he nervously shifted from one foot to the other, fingers curling and uncurling around the strap of his bag.
“Cecil,” Carlos stated, too shocked to do anything else as he stared up and down the other man, “Is that one of my lab coats?”
Cecil nodded enthusiastically, almost bouncing on the spot in delight, “I’ve come to learn how to do science!” He paused and glanced up at him, “Is that okay?”
“That’s fine,” Carlos said, stepping back to let Cecil into the lab, the other almost bouncing with excitement as he walked in, lab coat slipping off of his slim shoulders before quietly closing the door, biting back a smile, “First things first though… We’ll have to get you a better fitting lab coat… and some goggles. I have to measure reaction rates.”
One quick clothes change later and now sporting some new eye googles, Cecil’s enthusiasm had not diminished at all, the smaller man still bouncing in place with a massive grin on his face as he eagerly watched Carlos set up the equipment needed, 5 identical apparatus but with different coloured jars in front of them.
“So I got told to measure the rate err… speed, which these reactants,” Carlos pointed to the jars, “Well, react together. It’s nothing majorly important but with how things work around here, anything could happen really.” Cecil nodded, hands quickly flying up to steady the googles on his face which had begun to slip down his nose, pulling his glasses along with them.
Carlos coughed nervously, steadying his own googles before turning to the bench, sensing Cecil move behind him in order to see better and yet still remain far enough back that he wasn’t intruding.
“The first one is with a high concentration,” Carlos said, swirling the liquids around in their beakers so Cecil could see, “This can only be for liquids and then we just mix them together and this’ll increase the reaction rate because there is more particles in the beaker, so they’ll collide more, gain more energy and hopefully react.,” he added, quickly mixing the two together and setting it down, narrowly avoiding hitting the other on the head as he moved in closer, eyes wide and staring into the bright red solution.
“I can’t see anything happening,” Cecil said, confusion lacing his words as he twisted his head to look up at Carlos.
“Head off the table Cecil,” Carlos quickly admonished, receiving a quiet ‘Sorry’ as Cecil stepped backwards, biting his lip nervously before continuing, “The particles are so small that you can’t see anything occurring, but you can see the product. We’re just trying to see if any of these is massively faster than the others individually.”
Cecil nodded, visibly committing it to memory, having never been inside the lab before- at least, not as an observer as they moved onto the next one.
“In this one, the reactants are in gas form, so they’re called gaseous. This is so we can test the pressure,” Carlos said, pointing to the container in which particles zipped around, looking like a storm of radioactive fireflies, “And this one you can see, but you shouldn’t be able too so we’re just chalking it up to the peculiarities of this town and leaving it at that for now.”
Cecil nodded, an eerie glow lighting up his face and accenting the swirling tattoos which were still visible, peeking out from underneath the rolled up sleeves of the lab coat as Carlos flicked the switch to increase the pressure, container shrinking and particles rebounding off of each other a lot more. “Same thing as before really,” Carlos said, pulling the hair tie from his hair and quickly redoing as he explained, “They collide more, so the energy will increase and then when they hit the activation energy which is the energy they need to collide with to react, then they will.”
“So is the next one temperature?” Cecil asked, gaze having travelled from the swirling lights to the next experiment, which was cooing gently for reasons which they didn’t have enough funding to explain.
“Yes it is,” Carlos said, a strange sense of pride filling him, which he quickly pushed away to focus on the task at hand, as the red bar on the thermometer, carefully balanced in the mix rose up, “This causes them to move quicker, so the same thing happens.”
“More collisions with more energy so more chance of a product being made?” Cecil asked, looking as if he was about to burst from happiness at the grin and nod he received.
“Actually,” Carlos said, glancing at the next two set ups, “Can you help me with these next two?” He felt rather than heard the gasp of delight that Cecil supressed and turned around to view the other nodding his head frantically, a wide grin splitting his features.
“Great,” Carlos said, grinning back as he pulled the motor and pestle out of the cupboard. Due to an equipment failure they were back to basics and due to Carlos accidentally smashing his fingers more times than the substance; new white pestle had to have been bought, rather than the darker brown ones that were provided.
“I need you to mash that up into a powder,” he asked Cecil quietly, passing the bowl with the lump of pale green reactant in it, “And mind your fingers!” he quickly added, seeing the look of fierce determination on Cecil’s face before the scientist began to set up the next one, ensuring the catalyst was correct this time as the ceiling still bore scorch marks.
“You’re increasing the reactants surface area, so there is more of it for the other to react with, which-“
Cecil joined in, chiming along with, “Increases the collisions, which increases the collision energy which increases the chances of a product!”
Carlos laughed. He never appreciated how low Cecil’s voice was until he spoke along with someone and the contrast between them was astounding.
“Now this one is different,” Carlos said, accepting the powdered reactant from Cecil and tipping it to mix with the other reactant, before pointing to the last one, “Because it uses a catalyst, which is something which isn’t used up in the reaction.”
“Does it increase the number of collisions too?” Cecil asked, curiously staring at the catalyst before looking at Carlos who shook his head.
“It offers them a different path to take, a path which requires less activation energy to get a product. So it allows them to react on it and then requires a small bit of energy for them to leave, but ultimately it uses less energy.”
Cecil nodded seriously, before his phone chimed in his pocket, the opening notes of Queen being cut of as he darted away from the benches to answer it.
“I’m very sorry Carlos but I have to go now,” Cecil said after a few seconds of listening intently to the phone, “I’m being summoned.”
“That’s fine Cecil, umm; would you like to keep the lab coat? And then you can wear it the next time you want to do science?”
Carlos had never seen Cecil look happier before he was nearly tackled to the floor in a tight hug and the other was running out of the door, googles balanced on his head and white coat streaming as he called over his shoulder, “Bye Carlos!”
Carlos shook his head and returned to monitoring the reactions, which seemed to be behaving themselves before the music cut off, only to be replaced by a familiar deep voice, “Welcome back dear listeners. Now during our break I decided to pay Carlos and his perfect hair a visit, and you would believe what I have learned!”
