#chromatographs

[zlatokryletz]

Experimenting with chromatographic ink while drawing a majestic ostrich on the run. The technique feels very new and very exciting 🤩

[suzukiblu]

WIP guessing game: "Robin"

Superboy has existed for about six months at best (five months, two weeks, and six days, but who's creepily spying on their fellow heroes and vigilantes? not Tim, for sure) and was created in a lab full of extremely niche genetic experiments whose creators very rarely bothered making look human, which is probably why he has some weird ideas about certain social norms.

Tim assumes that's why the guy just decided to drop a very annoyed Catwoman on him out of nowhere, anyway.

"The fuck?" he says, though through his vocoder it comes out more like the incoherent screeching of the damned. That being, well, the whole purpose of the vocoder and all. Superboy grins down at him from the nighttime sky all bright and sunny and weirdly adorable, for being a lab-grown weapon and a guy who is technically capable of disassembling Tim down to his individual atoms with, like, a touch and about two seconds' worth of thought.

Not that Tim has been creepily spying on anyone or said anyone's Cadmus files, again.

Also Superboy might not even know he can do that yet, so it's really not a smart thing to mention right now.

"Hey, man!" Superboy greets cheerfully. "She was breaking into that big museum a couple blocks over, figured you'd care about that. As opposed to, like, breaking into some rich asshole with insurance's penthouse. Figured you would not have cared about that."

"The museum also has insurance, for the record," Selina informs him sourly as she makes an art of getting off her unceremoniously roof-dumped ass while looking like being on this roof was her idea to begin with. Because, like: Selina. "And has not properly sourced the artifacts in their new Bast exhibit."

I know, that's why I was on my way to the museum to keep an eye out for you, is what Tim does not say, since Robin is supposed to be a splintered aspect of a mysterious all-knowing city spirit given human form and not just, like, a really dedicated teenager surviving on semi-legal energy drinks and conspiracy-board detective work and the occasional occult ritual to summon the Batman.

What he does do is jerkily cock his head and say, "Preyyyyy?", and let his vocoder horribly mangle the word into a sound usually best described as "unholy avian screeching". Superboy beams, which is not a normal reaction to hearing Robin's voice. Selina just rolls her eyes, but Selina of course knows about the whole "really dedicated teenager surviving on semi-legal energy drinks and conspiracy-board detective work and the occasional occult ritual to summon the Batman" thing.

Like she's never summoned the Batman for anything, geez. Or "Bruce", as an eight year-old Dick Grayson had once upon a time decided to randomly dub him. Tim still can't call the eternal and unsleeping eldritch protector of their city that without feeling like he's going to spontaneously combust, but it is in fact a thing that the Batman will answer to.

Might as well call Pennyworth "Alfie", though.

Jason was even worse at names than Dick, Tim is pretty sure.

"Yeah!" Superboy says, sounding still more cheerful and floating down the rest of the way to the roof to land lightly in front of Tim. Selina eyes him in a way that would end very badly for anyone who was not functionally invulnerable. "I mean, she seems cool and all but I dunno, figured the Bat wasn't big on Cats in his territory. And also the criming. Definitely also the criming."

"How . . . find Robin?" Tim asks. Superboy doesn't have enhanced senses, as far as he knows, so . . .

"Oh, I've been stalking you," Superboy explains. Tim blinks behind his unblinking mask and feels several ways about that statement. "That's what you Bats all do when you're interested in somebody, right? So I figured you'd like it if I did it back."

. . . Tim feels several ways about that statement.

[frenzied-chimera]

my face when im looking at 5783945 exact same pharma heads in my sketchbook idk

[clockwayswrites]

WIP game: there are so many I could ask about. But this is me, so.... 🥺 Please share some Not!Writing?

I'm turning this back around onto you! Check means the whole scene has (basically) been shared. Circle part of it has been shared but needs the start or the end written. Give me a scene/between scenes/etc that you're interested in!

[kbirbpods]

[Podfic Link] | Length: 7 minutes, 15 seconds

Original Work: When the War Starts in My Heart by @chromatographic [Chromatographic (Lia) on ao3]

Danny Phantom x Batman: Danny & Damian, Bruce & Damian

Rating: Teen & Up Audiences

Summary: 

Damian Wayne has received a plea for help from his past. A past he thought was dead. Batman and Robin answer the call. Inspired by The Crane Wives song, Curses.

Notes: Pod-O-Ween 2024 | Prompt: Smoke

[gilbirda]

gil gil gilgilgil gil gil.

i had

omg

i had the best

the best

Okay so.

Soulmate Identifying Marks AU

ANGER MANAGEMENT STYLE

i am

i need it.

(don't feel pressured i might write it myself but also might not but i had to throw the idea to you)

Fam.

You got it.

[Read on AO3]

------

Jason never actually cared about his soulmark. Really. Why bother? He was poor, his parents' relationship was shitty (he later learned they weren't soulmates and Catherine sold him a pretty lie), and his life was complicated enough to add romance.

Once he became a vigilante at the tender age of thirteen, he understood that love was a luxury, and that having a soulmate at this point was a liability more than a blessing. A curse, even. He envied Dick, who didn't have a soulmate mark, and who loved freely and without hesitation; he envied Bruce, who loved intensely and burned just as bright.

He just. He couldn't do it.

So he chose to ignore it. Sometimes he hated it, sometimes it felt like a shackle to a complete stranger, someone he was supposed to tie himself to-

(Someone that didn't belong in his world. Crimefighters and civilians were not a good idea.) - so he just scrubbed at the damn ink on his skin when he got pissed at it, and covered with long sleeved clothes when he wanted to ignore it.

And then he died.

He was surprised to discover his mark was still there after coming back to himself post-bathing in the Lazarus Pits. He lowkey had hoped his soulmate was free from the connection the moment his heart stopped beating. But it was still there.

It was a bird. Ironic.

A freaking bluejay.

It was still colorful, it has all the details, no matter what he did about the mark. His soulmate was still there on the other side, waiting, biding their time. He wondered if their mark became a black silhouette like it did when partners died. He wondered if that stranger was holding hope or gave up on him already.

(He hoped they did. Giving up on him was the best option.)

When years passed and he didn't find anybody with a matching tattoo, blacked out or not, he tried to forget about it again. Holding hope was useless, and he had more important things to do. Dick eventually stopped asking about it, when they were back on speaking terms. Bruce still gave it pained looks when he visited the Cave.

That's why when a woman sat down on his table and hid her face behind a binder, he didn't notice the picture on it at first glance.

"Hello?" He put down the cup of coffee and sat straighter. It was never a bad idea to be wary.

"Um." The woman lowered the binder enough to look around the quaint café. She turned and checked the window, but if there was someone there she wouldn't be seen. That's why Jason liked this table, it was the best strategic point. "Sorry, I..."

"Hiding from an ex?"

The woman rolled her eyes, setting the binder back on the table. "Try a creepy coworker."

She tried to downplay it, but by her body language she was more affected than what she let on. He was interested in her story immediately. No woman was going to be stalked on his watch.

"Did you try the police?"

She looked at him like he was crazy. "Police doesn't do shit in Gotham."

Her sharp tone and eyes made him smile immediately. "Have you tried kicking him in the nuts?"

The unknown woman arched an eyebrow and untied her tight bun, massaging her scalp for a second, revealing long natural red hair. Jason noticed her white shirt, so she may be coming back from work. An office? He wondered where she worked. He could try and find out and then identify this creepy coworker-

"Hard to do that when she doesn't have a pair of those." The woman snorted. "My stalker is a woman."

"My mistake. Have you tried kicking her anyway?"

She made a face as if she didn't know what to do with him, but laughed at his comment. He smiled back, glad to see her relax after the scare.

"Thanks. I really needed the laugh, stranger." She made a move to stand up. "I'll leave you alone now."

He nodded, making a note to follow her and find as much information as he could about this stalker.

His eyes wandered to the picture taped to the front of her binder.

A bluejay.

"Wait." He extended a hand, catching her-

It was like an electric current coursed through him, from the palm of the hand that touched her forearms to the tip of his toes. He knew she felt it too, because she froze where she stood, her eyes glued to his hand on her person.

He had to let her go, he knew, but he couldn't. He really couldn't. He knew what this meant, and yet he didn't want to believe.

"Where did you get that?"

It took a moment to come back to reality and process her words. She was looking at his arm, her free hand hovering over the hem of the jacket her had rolled up to be comfortable. The shape of the tail of the bird was in plain sight.

He could lie and say it was a tattoo. That he thought bluejays were cool. He could say so many things.

He didn't need to say any of those lies.

The woman put the binder back on the table and rolled up the sleeve of her sensible white shirt, on the same arm he had his mark. He knew what he would see, what he could see, but it didn't prepare him to the sight of the same bluejay shape blacked out.

"I cried for you. I felt you die."

Her eyes were haunted with memories. What could he say? What could he explain?

"I should have looked harder for you." She narrowed her eyes. "I knew I could still sense you, but I didn't want to hope..." She trailed off, biting her lip.

"It's okay. People shouldn't be running around chasing ghosts." He understood her. Really. Holding hope for the impossible could be dangerous.

The woman smiled at his words, truly smiled, amusement morphing her expression like the turning of a page. She sat back down and extended her hand.

"Jasmine Fenton. Professional ghost hunter. Or was." She rolled her eyes. "I was taking a break now, actually."

Jason tried to gauge if she was joking. But she was completely serious.

Huh.

"Jason Todd." He shook her hand anyway, barely stopping when the electric current made an appearance again.

"Like the dead socialite?"

She did her homework.

"Yeah." It was his time to be amused. "Just like him."

He smiled back at her, and it felt right. Like coming back for air after being underwater for too long. Like feeling the sun warming your skin for the first time after a long winter.

He always found the soulmate talk boring, and in his darkest hours, pathetic. He would never experience that, and romance was for those that could afford it, so why care?

But now, touching her, seeing her smile and her teal eyes that hid many secrets, Jason decided that those people were very off about their descriptions - and very right at the same time.

So he just ignored everything he thought he knew about soulmates and tried to remember if he had the rest of his day free, since he apparently had a soulmate to get to know.

---

Hate the ending, might rewrite it.

Bone apple teeth.

Also I hc Jason as aspec if it wasn't obvious here.

Do you like my stuff? Buy me a Ko-fi!

[kaplyart]

some studies + testing new chromatographic ink

[stealingyourbones]

You are an unhinged pillar of the dp x dc fandom and I deeply admire you for that. Keep being your weird self.

Why thank you I do try <3

I simply aspire to be my best self and that self creates abominations that god fears

[rock-aureoleuhp-alloktube]

TP316L-7.96mm*4.6mm Stainless steel electropolished tube for making chromatographic column,inner diameter testing with plug gauges

[boylejazmin148]

automated-cell-counter

Labmate automated cell counter revolutionizes lab work by replacing error-prone manual methods. With 2.5 × 5 Megapixel imaging and options for manual and autofocusing, it delivers precise cell count, viability, and diameter data with a single click. Experience fast, accurate, and efficient cell analysis today.

[suzukiblu]

WIP guessing game: help

"I know about Billy, Marvel," Batman says, and Billy . . . blinks.

"You know?!" he sputters. Okay, so apparently his secret identity was just . . . literally never a secret at all, then. Which, well–Batman, so that just figures, really. So actually this is kind of a relief and might even mean that he's fine with–

"Yes," Batman confirms with a nod. "So I understand your current reservations about parenthood."

. . . wait what.

"Huh?" Billy says, blinking stupidly at him.

"I don't know how much of you is still C.C. Batson or what you do or don't remember about being him," Batman says. "But the resemblance is undeniable, if nothing else. Certainly your and your wife's deaths were . . . well, suspicious. And you're hardly the first archeologists to dig up a god or six."

Oh, okay. Well.

This is apparently what Billy gets for his personal mental image of a "hero" being his dad, then, isn't it.

Crap.

"To be honest I've been looking for Billy for a while now, I just didn't want to bring it up before I found him," Batman admits, looking dissatisfied with himself. "My most recent reliable intel puts him in Fawcett City, but I assume you're aware of that, given your evident attachment to the place."

"You're looking for Billy?" Billy asks incredulously. "Why?"

"Because he's your son," Batman says. "And because he's a homeless child who's been abused and neglected and needs help. I honestly don't know where you go when you're not being Captain Marvel–frankly I'm not sure if you even exist when you're not being Captain Marvel, given what little I actually know about your powers and your death and your role as the Champion of Magic and just how damn impossible you are to find when you're off-duty–but I'm assuming that wherever it happens to be is not necessarily conducive to providing a stable home environment and being legally dead certainly can't be helping with that, so my original intention was to find the boy and help you arrange some manner of care for and visitation with him. And given the revelation of your relation to Robin, well . . . I'd like to take Billy in myself, if you'd both be comfortable with that. It seems . . . appropriate, under the circumstances."

"You want to foster Billy because I'm Robin's soulmate?" Billy says, absolutely positive that he's misunderstood literally every single word that just came out of Batman's mouth. There is no possible way that he did not.

"It's not exactly out of my wheelhouse," Batman replies wryly. "Although I'll be keeping this one out of the tights, ideally. Though I make no long-term promises about that because quite frankly at this point I'm spoiled for soulmates who insist on wearing capes and I wouldn't really be surprised to turn up another one, especially given that Robin is yours and your own involvement in the superhero community."

Billy stares at him.

"Wait, are all the Gotham vigilantes your soulkids?" he blurts unthinkingly.

"Not all," Batman says. "But, well . . . probably more of them than you'd expect."

"Oh my god," Billy says in disbelief. "And you're just telling me that?! You don't tell people things, you're Batman!"

"I haven't always been the father I should have been," Batman says, and then he pulls down his cowl. Billy chokes, and then chokes again because apparently Batman is Bruce freaking Wayne and his brain just . . . just needs a moment to process that fact, like there is literally any way whatsoever that he could ever actually process that fact. He would've been less surprised to see a Kardashian under that mask, he's pretty sure. At least they've got athletes in the family, technically! "So I'm not going to make things difficult for you with Robin. Clearly he needs more than I'm capable of providing, and I'm perfectly willing to be transparent and to co-parent with you as much as possible. I want Robin to be safe and content and grow up well, and frankly put, Batson, you've proven yourself to be a good man time and again and I trust you to do what's best by our son."

Okay, well, now Billy just feels like dirt.

"You do know what happened to Billy, don't you?" he asks just a little bit desperately, because there is literally no way that this conversation is a real and actual thing that's really and actually happening. "Like, just–everything that happened there? There's a reason he's not in school or the system or with a relative or anything like that."

"What happened to Billy wasn't your fault," Batman tells him, meeting his eyes all quiet and intent and sincere. "And I will do everything in my power to help you make it right."

"Oh no, you're actually like . . . just genuinely a really good person, aren't you," Billy says despairingly, staring at him all over again and really, really wishing he could swear right now.

Maybe he'll just go throw himself into the sun. Maybe that's what he'll just go and do.

The corner of Batman's mouth quirks up wryly. His eyes even crinkle a little, which Billy can see on account of his total lack of cowl right now, oh god.

Billy despairs.

"I mean it," Batman says gently. "It wasn't your fault, and it doesn't mean you can't be a good father now."

"I need to talk to Robin," Billy says, because he definitely, definitely needs to talk to Robin. Batman inclines his head in an accepting nod, because Batman is probably under the impression that Billy wants to go give Robin a good ol' traditional "I know I'm not your biodad but I'm here for you, champ!" kind of speech, and Billy just . . . really cannot explain the real situation to him right now. Or ever.

Can he just lie to Batman for the rest of their lives, maybe? He can just pretend to be his own dad for the Justice League and keep dodging whatever Bat-surveillance happens to be in Fawcett and parent his older-than-he-is soulmate, right? That's a thing that he can do?

That's probably not a thing that he can do.

Although he might be willing to try, at this point.

[clockwayswrites]

ClllllloooooooOOOOooooocck I made a mistake. And that mistake was rereading The Fic You Are Not Writing. Because good lord I need you to Not Write more STAT. (But yes will be patient just. Ugh I love it its so cute.)

I just. There's so much future in that fic I waaaannnna see eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee. (Like Phantom reveal to Jason... Like Bruce/Batman andor other Bats around Danny... Like Paulina showing up in Gotham and dragging Danny Shopping. just. ALL the things.)

LOL *pets gently*

See, the problem is, it's starting to turn into a fic I am writing which means pressure and taking it seriously and being slower ;-; I need to go back to having stupid fun with it.

HUM... Paulina coming to Gotham... meeting Danny's sex worker friends...? Nail painting? Teasing Danny? Joking (or not so joking) about buying him a collar? What do we think? That sounds like stupid fun.

Until then, a tidbit:

“Stay.” “Yes sir,” Danny quipped, words interrupted by the large yawn he took. Once Jason was sure Danny would stay standing he pulled away to go dig out some clothing and a fresh towel. Only to turn around and run into the dresser himself like he was the one sleep deprived. It was just that, well, Danny had started to strip and was already down to his boxers. It was a lot of skin on display and Jason couldn’t help but watch the play of freckles and scars across the shoulder blades. That was… there were actually a concerning number of scars, for a civilian. And the type of scars… a lot of those looked like burns and electrical scars. Several puncture wounds too. What was Danny getting into? Jason gripped tightened on the clothing in his hands. They needed to step up training. “Clothing!” Danny cooed sleepily. Jason shook himself out of his thoughts and delivered the clothing into Danny’s grabbing hands. “Be careful in the shower. I’ll be outside the door in case you fall.” “I’m fine,” Danny said. “I’m not even bleeding!” That really wasn’t reassuring.

[irelyre]

arson 'science' is the worst one. the story of cameron todd willingham will leave you with the inescapable conclusion that it is morally defensible, even correct, to attack arson investigators in the street with your bare hands and teeth.

Four years after he was executed for an arson that certainly never occurred, the ATF conducted an experiment: they set a room on fire. then 53 fire investigators were asked to identify which quadrant of the room the fire started. only 3 could. guessing at random should have netted 10+ correct answers.

don't get me started on field test kits. or 'drug' dogs.

criminal profiling is just astrology for cops

[kbirbpods]

Length: 1 minute, 32 seconds

Original Work: Manners by @chromatographic [Chromatographic (Lia) on ao3]

DCxDP Crossover: Tim Drake & Danny Fenton | Rating: G

Summary: 

Danny is trapped in a book!

Notes: such a cute drabble!

[kylalabtronuk]

Ion Chromatograph

Labtron Ion Chromatograph is a lightweight, portable model featuring a powerful data processing system. It offers a flow range of 0.001-9.999 mL/min with ±0.5% accuracy and a temperature range of RT +5°C to 60°C. Equipped with a flash column for rapid anion/cation detection, it includes an intelligent flow path clearing system, real-time display.

[emmarobinsonsworld]

Ion Chromatograph System

Labtron Ion Chromatograph System features a modular design and advanced circuit technology, equipped with a bipolar conductivity detector for enhanced detection and stability. With a max pressure of 35 MPa, precise pressure display, and a flow range of 0.001 to 10 ml/min, it supports user-friendly operations via RS232 and USB. Its built-in temperature control and automatic dilution save time and costs, ensuring accurate and reliable data.