#skeletal formulas

[hivemuthur]

Request: something with sex pollen or accidental aphrodisiacs (science experiments?). And not like dubcon. More like Viktor/Reader have unconfessed feelings and apparently one or both of them needs to be drugged and desperate for sex to get them out. Idk if it’s your thing but I’d be interested to see your take on it.

I remember the evening I got this ask. I was like yesss and my friends gave me the look, you know?

Unknown Variable

viktorxfemale!reader explicit! sex pollen, but I've managed to plot it up a bit. From warnings: unsafe sex, rough sex, lots of fluids, brief mentions of experimenting on animals. The substance here is based on how fentanyl works, sort of :') I had to make myself a loop hole for something I wanted to write for the longest time :v

word count: 4,5K

author’s note: Freaktor Nation, how we feeling? Thank you for granting me another porn-writing fiddler milestone Anon :') beautiful artist behind the cover is @petitesieste 🖤

—

Your idle hand plays with the pendant of your necklace while the other scribbles down notes from the last test. Another miss. And life goes on in pain.

Finding a medication that alleviates pain without an endless list of side effects has been Sisyphean work, to say the least. Every time you think you’re close, something immune to compromise pokes its insistent head through the crack you’ve made in the never-fully-open door to the human pain receptor map.

To be honest, your ambitions to cure pain have long been tempered. Now, it’s merely about making it less relentless—offering people who struggle with it a brief reprieve, something to make it manageable. Not that Viktor was your inspiration, but he is a constant reminder of why you should keep going when every trial eventually turns to dust.

"Why do you insist on keeping such thorough documentation of the rejected ones?" The said reminder peeks over your shoulder, his hair tickling your cheek.

You huff, masking how startled you are, and mutter, "Of all people, you shouldn’t be asking stupid questions."

"There is no such thing. Only stupid answers," he counters, eyes still glued to your notes. "It’s a very noble goal, you know, but you might have to come to terms with the fact that a complete erasure of pain may simply be impossible."

"Again. Of all people, you should not speak of the impossible, Viktor," you smile under your nose and turn your head just enough to see that he’s smiling, too. A jest.

"I'm only teasing you," he hums, reaching out to point at something on the page. "This… is not bad. Persevere, you will get there."

His fingertip lands right next to where your hand has frozen mid-writing, close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from his palm. For a brief moment, you allow yourself the illusion that Viktor is doing it intentionally. But the thought vanishes as soon as he straightens and clears his throat.

"I'm not sure I will continue with this one," you admit, tapping your pen against the page. "It gets rid of skeletal pain but gave my rats a headache to die for."

"Oh, no, no." Viktor shakes his head, eyes still scanning your notes. "This one, you shouldn’t abandon. Perhaps just tweak it."

"Tweak it?" You scoff, slumping back in your chair. "Do you have any idea how many times I’ve tweaked it?"

"I can only imagine," he replies with a wry smile. Then, after a beat, he leans in again, tapping a precise point on the intricate web of chemical formulas—lines and hexagons scrawled across the page. "I am no chemist, but this… just tickles the wrong part of the brain. Make it tickle the right one, and it might actually work."

It’s hard for him to mask the undertone of hope lingering in his voice. Hope that you will find the answer. Hope that your relentless pursuit of relief for those who suffer will finally bear fruit. And, if he allows himself a moment of selfishness, hope that his own pain, the dull ache that never leaves him, might one day be eased.

But there is something else, something unspoken and far less rational. Viktor has always found himself drawn to you, not just in admiration for your intellect, but in the way you work—how you lean too close to your notes, muttering under your breath, the way your fingers absently play with whatever they can find when you are deep in thought.

Since the early years at the academy, he has enjoyed working by your side more than he would ever admit. When your paths eventually diverged—yours to chemistry, his to engineering—he felt the loss more acutely than he had expected. There was pride, of course, in seeing you forge your own path, and such a noble one at that. But the empty spaces where you used to be, the missing sound of your voice arguing a point over some formula or blueprint, left a quiet ache that he did not know how to soothe.

Sometimes, when the solitude stretches long enough, he allows himself the indulgence of believing he was your inspiration. That some part of your devotion to this research, to this particular pursuit, was born from those long nights spent together over textbooks and dimly lit workbenches. But the thought is always fleeting, because minutes later, you will wave a dismissive hand at him, shooing him away to his own lab with a teasing remark, and he will remind himself that he is a fool for entertaining such notions.

It is not as though there have been no opportunities. There have been moments—unguarded, lingering occasions where it might have been easy to reach, to say something, to step beyond the line of friendship. But somehow, the time was never right. And so, this one thing, he never felt like he could touch.

You blink a few times, scrunch your eyebrows, and hum. The pen gets trapped between your teeth as you pick up the sheet and bring it close to your face, as if looking at it from a smaller distance would somehow make it clearer.

“You know, you might be right,” you finally say in a tone that suggests Viktor is never right.

A chuckle rumbles out of him. “Unthinkable,” he snorts, leaning on his cane and offering you a smug, satisfied grin.

You roll your eyes. “Don’t be so pleased with yourself,” you chide, but the corner of your mouth betrays a smirk. “Thank you. I must ask you to leave me to be a genius now.”

“Ah, there it is,” he sighs dramatically, pressing a hand to his chest. “Served my purpose, and now I’m being unceremoniously chased away.”

“Don’t sulk,” you tease, waving him off as you set the paper back down. “I’ll even put your name in teeny-tiny little scribble on the leaflet.”

“You spoil me,” he deadpans, shaking his head as he turns to leave. He pauses by the door, glancing back at you with an affectionate smirk. “Fine. Let me know how it goes.”

Before you can say, “You’ll be the first one to know,” Viktor is already gone, the door swinging shut behind him. You give yourself a moment to rub the stupid feeling of light-headedness away from your temples before setting back to work.

What was meant to be a small tweak stretches into hours. Then days. Then, after two weeks, as you stand in front of the blackboard, the realisation you hadn't anticipated settles over you. Whatever you’ve created will inevitably end the already miserable lives of your test rats. Other than that, the medication looks as ready as it will ever be.

You could wait, of course—gather a group of willing human test subjects and conduct the trial properly. But let’s face it—you’ve waited long enough. And it’s right there.

Your jaw aches from hours of clenching, your sleep has been erratic at best, and now, to top it all off, a dull pain throbs in your tooth. You could just check. Worst case? You die. And if that happens—well, you won’t care anyway, will you?

As for the side effects? Manageable. Irrelevant in the grand scheme of the doctor-patient relationship. So yes—it seems you’ve very much done it.

The sun sets at some point while you debate with yourself—to drink or not to drink. When you finally do, all your hesitation, all your pain, the aches and nagging little pokes you hadn’t even realised were there—vanish. They melt into a feeling of softness and lightness, enveloping you in a warmth that feels almost like a gentle embrace.

Your fingers flex as if testing for any lingering pain, but there is none. Even the dull pressure behind your eyes from lack of sleep has dissolved. A laugh bubbles up, unbidden, and you press your palm over your mouth, giddy with disbelief. It worked. It actually worked.

Then, just as quickly, your thoughts snap to Viktor.

You scramble for your notes, knocking over an empty vial in your haste. Ink smears as you flip through your pages, but you hardly care. Grabbing one more vial—just in case—you cork it tight and shove it into your pocket. You need him to see this. Now.

Your heartbeat pounds as you rush out, barely remembering to lock the door behind you before taking off down the corridor. The lamps lining the halls have already been lit, casting flickering pools of gold onto the stone floor. You don’t stop to enjoy it.

Viktor’s dorm is far from your lab, but somehow the jog doesn’t get you tired. On the contrary, it feel great. You reach his door and rap your knuckles against the wood, shifting on the balls of your feet with barely contained excitement.

“Viktor! Open up—I’ve done it!”

The door swings open faster than you expect, and Viktor is already halfway through a hasty, "Shh!" before you shove the stack of notes into his chest. He stumbles back a step, catching them with one hand while bracing against the doorframe with the other. His hair is tousled, his vest unbuttoned—he must have been in the middle of something, though whatever it was is immediately forgotten as he frowns down at the crumpled pages.

"What—?" he starts, but you barely hear him.

With a triumphant little flourish, you hold up the test tube between you, the liquid inside gleaming under the candlelight. “I did it,” you whisper, grinning. “It works.”

Viktor’s gaze flickers from the vial to your face, eyes narrowing. "It? You mean—?"

“If this isn’t enough evidence—” you gesture to the notes he’s still sorting through, his confusion growing by the second—“I might have secretly tried it.”

His fingers still against the parchment. His head snaps up. “…You what?” Voice pitches embarrassingly, sharp with alarm. He glares at you as if he might physically shake the confession back into your mouth, but it’s too late.

You shift your weight between your feet, the initial rush of excitement dimming just a little under his scrutiny. “I tried it,” you admit again, slower this time, watching as his grip tightens around your notes. “And it works, Viktor. No pain, not even a little. I feel…” You hesitate, trying to find the right words, then settle on, “Light. Like I’m floating.”

“That is not reassuring,” he snaps, finally stepping back to let you inside. As soon as you cross the threshold, he shuts the door with a soft but urgent click and turns on you. “You—” He exhales, dragging a hand down his face, visibly forcing himself into something calmer. “You did not even hesitate?”

“I hesitated a lot,” you counter, but that does nothing to ease the storm in his eyes. He looks down at your notes again, scanning them, flipping through pages. His brow furrows deeper with every line.

The rustling of paper sounds unbearably loud in the silence, the only noise countering it the pounding of your own heart in your ears. He says nothing, eyes scanning the pages with intense focus. He’s not just skimming—he’s memorising, cataloguing every formula, every line of documentation. His lips part once, his expression shifting from concern to consideration.

Finally, he lifts his gaze, hopeful and searching. “And the side effects?”

“Very unlikely to make an appearance. Oh, hey!” Your sentence stutters to a halt as you catch Viktor tilting the vial at his lips—and swallowing. “Have you lost your mind?”

“You said it’s safe. I trust you.” He shrugs with a grin, then his eyes flutter shut. After a moment, a quiet, breathy laugh escapes him. “I’ll be damned,” he mutters. “It does work.” As if testing a theory, he exhales deeply, then sits on the sofa and stretches his legs out experimentally. “Please, continue.”

You blink, thrown off balance, but quickly shake it off. “Uh… very unlikely,” you repeat, resuming your pacing in front of him. “Whoever prescribes the medication would have to be attracted to their patient, and vice versa, for any additional effects to take place. And they would both have to ingest it. So, you see—”

Through your excited rambling, you don’t immediately notice Viktor clearing his throat uncomfortably. You frown briefly, a strange warmth blooming in your chest, but your mouth refuses to stop moving.

Viktor speaks your name softly, trying to halt your trot. Then, again. Then, once more—his voice lifting just a notch in urgency.

You finally pause, eyes locking onto his. “Chances are… very slim,” you finish the sentence, but your voice falters into something dangerously close to a whine.

Viktor stretches his legs out stiffly, his hips jerking once as his fingers clench into the fabric of his trousers. A flush creeps up his neck, blooming across the cheeks and he exhales sharply through his nose, shifting as if trying to find relief. His chest rises and falls fast, and when he swipes a hand over his face, his lips part, damp from where he must have licked them. Another small jolt runs through him, thighs pressing together, and his knuckles go white where they grip his knees.

But above all of this, he just looks… incredibly hot. And as if the sight alone isn’t enough to nearly undo you, he speaks.

“Aphrodisiac.” Comes a low mutter of disbelief. “Brilliant, really,” he chuckles weakly, though there’s little amusement in it—only breathlessness. Brilliant, how you connected the dots. So incredibly brilliant to tickle, as he advised you, the parts of the brain that entwine both—pain and pleasure.

“But, oh… f-fuck,” Viktor stutters, a sharp inhale cutting through his words as his body betrays him. His hand twitches towards his lap before he catches himself, fingers gripping his wrist in a desperate attempt to resist. A painful cramp of lust wrenches his stomach into a knot, his entire frame tensing. “You’ve missed a variable, I’m afraid—”

You stand frozen, staring at him, torn between bolting out the door and throwing yourself at his feet. But then the realisation crashes over you, scorching hot, stealing the breath from your lungs. Your pulse slams against your ribs, your skin suddenly feverish—damp forehead, shirt clinging to your back like a parasite.

“You…” your voice wavers as you step forward, heat curling low in your stomach. “It means—” Viktor swallows hard, his gaze flickering up to meet yours, pupils blown wide. “Oh, gods,” you whisper, barely able to get the words out. “You like me,” the truth spills from your lips, the weight of it sending another sharp pang of want through you.

“Immensely,” he admits, voice strained, thighs pressing together as another tremor runs through him. His face is painted in apology, but his hands reach out for you.

You take another step, closing the space between you, and his breath stutters. “Since when?”

“Always, ah—” he gasps, struggling to keep control. His fingers tighten into fists against his knees again. “You?”

Your throat is dry. “Oh… s-same,” you choke out deciding the time for embarrassment is long gone.  

His head tips back, jaw clenched, a strangled sound slipping out as he exhales. “Gods.”

And it just fucking hurts not to touch him. The pain you had so recklessly rid yourself of is back with unnatural force—aching, unrelenting—and gods help you, if you don’t rut into his lap any minute now, you’re going to die miserably.

When you get close enough, his fingers brush yours pleadingly, and the touch feels like a punch to the gut. The mere ghost of his skin against yours bends you in half, has you leaning over him, gripping the backrest of the sofa for support.

“Can I?” he asks, his hand hovering under your skirt. The sweetness of it—this man, asking permission to touch you when you’re so clearly drenched, when you’re convinced he can see the slick dripping down your thigh—makes you want to weep.

You nod desperately, breathing out a tearful, “Please.”

Viktor immediately comes to your aid, his palm swiping up the dampness on your leg before pressing flat against your cunt. The sound it makes—slick and obscene—has him gasping. “Fuck, you’re so wet,” he whispers, bewildered.

His neglected cock aches, trapped painfully in his trousers. With the hand not already between your thighs, he fumbles with his belt, freeing himself—but to no avail. His left palm is even clumsier than the right, which now falters, frozen between your legs, his drunk mind unable to do more than one thing at a time.

Desperate for friction, you grab his wrist and rut against his palm, spreading slick all over his fingers. Viktor whines, overwhelmed by both having you and not having you where he needs you most. Then, with a sudden motion that makes you gasp, he moves your knickers aside, hooks two fingers into your cunt, and pulls you down onto his lap.

The moment you're there, you begin to slide your pussy up and down his cock, and Viktor moans—a filthy, slutty sound that has you threading your fingers through his hair, tugging his head to face you.

He looks so gorgeous you could eat him and clean your teeth with his bones. Possessed by greed, you sink your tongue into his mouth and nearly stop grinding from the sheer feeling of it. His hands—gentle, reverent—cup your cheeks, soft lips nipping at yours, his eyelashes tickle your skin when his eyes flutter shut in relief.

It had never crossed your mind to just kiss him. And oh, you’ve missed out on so much.

Because Viktor kisses like he’s been wanting you for the longest time—slow and deep, breathing in through his nose as he presses his face into yours. Close, so close you could melt into him, dissolve into liquid and flow down his throat, straight to his heart. His scent floods you, sweet on your senses and unmistakably him, nothing in particular yet everything at once.

Your hips move once more, but he doesn’t let you go. He groans into your mouth, biting down a moan when your pussy lips hug the underside of his cock, teasing the spot just beneath the head. You stay there, rubbing your clit in short, frantic movements, the sinful sounds falling between you, making you ache for more.

Desperation floods your veins, your slick coating every inch of him as you grind into the ridges of his groin, each drag of your clit sending ecstatic warmth down each of your limbs. Viktor is no better—his breath comes in ragged pants. He grips your hips unsteadily, trying and failing to guide you into something slower that he could endure.

“F-fuck… you are—” His voice trembles, his forehead falling against yours as if the weight of his pleasure is crushing. “So wet. You feel so—so good.”

You can barely reply, too lost in the heat of him, the feeling of his length dragging through your folds, the head catching just right where you swell, the sensation buzzing, building up. Still, you manage a breathy, “Your cock feels amazing,” and the whimper Viktor lets out is nothing short of wrecked.

His hands slip up your back, holding you close, his lips brushing yours as he mutters sweet, broken things—bits of words and phrases in his native tongue. You don’t understand them all, but the way he speaks them, ardent and needy, has your stomach tightening, your whole body scorched.

“Viktor, I’m—”

“I know. Please, cum. For me,” he pleads, his hands gripping you tighter as you begin to lose your rhythm. It’s there, you can already feel it creeping up your spine, twisting and prickling your skin where Viktor touches you, coaxing it out.

The heat in your belly snaps, and you cry out, trembling in his arms as your release gushes over him, soaking his cock, his thighs, pooling where your bodies meet. The wetness, the sheer warmth of you, sends him over the edge in turn.

Viktor shudders beneath you, his voice breaking on a guttural groan as his cock twitches and spills, ropes of hot cum streaking over his stomach, mixing with your slick into a sticky, messy heat between you.

Your mouth falls back to his, kissing away the sweat from his lips, your pelvis still rocking gently through the aftershocks—the slide so easy now that you feel like a whore doing it. Viktor hums when you pull his damp hair away from his forehead, his breath slowing down when he exhales a breathless chuckle. "You will kill me," he murmurs, voice hoarse and fucked-out.

"No," you whisper, nuzzling into his cheek, your body still moving against him, slow and unhurried. Like a cat rubbing against its keeper, needy and content all at once. "No, I would never. I need you."

Viktor groans softly at that, his hands tracing your sweat-slicked back before settling at your waist. "What do you need from me, sweet girl?" His voice is low, the tone suggesting that anything you ask for, he will give you.

"Please, fuck me," you breathe, pressing closer, your lips brushing against his jaw. "I feel so empty." Only now you begin to undo the buttons of your shirt and Viktor does the same, pressing your damp stomachs together. He inhales your scent from the crook of your shoulder and hums, eyes rolling back in his skull as if the words physically unravel him. His grip on you tightens briefly before he smacks your hips with both hands and says, “Get up. Please.”

Your legs nearly betray you, thighs shaking and knees weak as you try to rise from his lap, only to almost collapse back at the sight of the webs of your shared release stretching between you. It makes a sticky sound, gross and hot, and to your relief, Viktor must find it hot too—because he’s nearly fully hard again.

You don’t know if it’s the medicine or something else. You feel different now, though it definitely still holds, since Viktor gets up with ease, turns you to face the couch, and presses his fingers to the back of your neck, squeezing gently before bending you over. “Ass up, head down,” he says, a renewed lewdness in his tone.

You turn your head, catching him in the corner of your eye, and at the flicker of concern on your face, he smooths a hand along your spine and murmurs, “It’s fine. It doesn’t hurt.” He peels the sweat-dampened shirt from your back, and you smile at your shared state of half-undress—the way no time is wasted getting fully bare, the discomfort of parting greater than the inconvenience of underwear pushed aside clumsily and trousers still pooled around his knees.

Only you know how many times you’ve pictured this exact scene. But your mind never drifted far enough to conjure exactly how wet and scorching everything would be, how your thighs would quiver in anticipation. The cushioned seat dips next to your knee as Viktor sinks down beside you, close enough that your legs touch. His cock hovers below your pussy, his hands undo your bra, then settle where your hips crease.

He rocks back and forth and tsks when you shift needily. “So impatient,” he hums, sickly sweet in your ear. “But I suppose I have your lack of restraint to thank for being here in the first place.”

A clever retort sits at the tip of your tongue, only to be punched back down when Viktor slides inside you with one smooth thrust, hitting deep. He groans, wide and loud, fingers digging into your flesh—but you don’t see his face. You barely see anything through the tears pricking your eyes, forcing you to squeeze your lids shut. Your nails bite into the couch, and your back arches to meet him, presenting your ass just as he asked.

Still tight from your last climax, you hug all of him snugly, yelping when his balls slap against your soaked lips. It’s slow, almost teasing—the way he stretches you out. He’s too busy gaping at his cock, appearing and disappearing inside you, to hear your little mewls of incoherent begging, the word please tumbling from your lips over and over with no meaning beyond desperation.

Finally, you’ve entered the realm of things he can touch. And it’s dishonourable, the way it happened—but he doesn’t care. The ability to touch you, to fuck you, quickly erases all shame as he slams into you, hard and measured, knocking moans and ragged pants from your throat. It feels better than anything he’s ever felt.

He fucks you hard and rough. Each thrust is forceful, precise, driving deep until the sound of bodies slapping against each other is all you can hear. When enough pressure builds, and he feels your walls tightening, clenching closer and closer around his cock, he fists a hand in your hair and yanks you up. A sharp cry spills from your lips, your belly presses out, and you have to brace a hand against the couch's backrest. His arm comes around your shoulders, holding your back flush against his chest. The other hand—the death of you—slides between your legs, fingers pressing ruthlessly against your clit.

No restraint, no kindness—no nice boy left in him. His teeth graze your ear before sinking into the straining flesh of your neck, his voice a ragged whisper against your skin. “Take it. Where do you want it?”

Your head lolls back onto his shoulder, mouth falling open as you breathe out a tired, “Inside. Please.” He bottoms out and wrenches it from you—an orgasm so violent it has you screaming silently into the ceiling of his dorm room. It’s devastating, ripping away all muscle control as your cunt seizes tight around him, milking him without mercy. Your hands tremble, knuckles whiten as you struggle to hold yourself up, trying not to slump face-first into a pillow.

It’s all too much for Viktor. He falters, his hand slipping from between your thighs. He whispers your name distantly, voice raw, and ruts upward—once, twice—before spilling inside you. Hot cum floods every crevice, thick and unrelenting, leaking out even before he pulls free.

Everything melts into one—your shared breaths, the wet warmth between you, the sluggish rhythm of your heartbeats syncing. Viktor sits back on his heels and wraps his arms around you, nosing into your neck. Leaves soft, loving pecks there, trailing from your collarbone to your temple.

“You really didn’t know?” he asks quietly, his thumb stroking your lip.

You swallow against the dryness in your throat and chuckle. “Oh, gods, no. I’d like to think I have more decency than to drug you into this.” Your face tucks into his throat as you whisper, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I have never been more pleased about someone missing a variable,” he mutters, and he’s back—himself again. His hands are gentle as they cup your cheek, swiping away your worry. His lips are sweet on yours, licking the salt from your skin. What this little mistake has just opened up for you—you have no idea. But you can’t wait to find out.

[tallsc]

Deltarune Chapter 3 and 4 main route ramblings below.

If you don't want to read the whole thing, please note I have only done the main (pacifist) route for both chapters so far, along with the chapter 4 secret boss and have started attempts on the chapter 3 secret boss (cause I missed it on my blind playthrough) so please do not spoil anything past that! Thanks.

Okay so just gonna start this off with. VERY good chapters. Was not expecting a lot of that but it was all wonderful. I played it blind and streamed it with a friend so some of these thoughts originated from her btw, we theorized a lot with each other so I can't recall who's ideas half of these started out being XD

Fascinating pacing though - I expected these two to follow the formula of "brief intro section, explore a dark world for most of it, then longer outro section where we explore town" like the first two chapters but neither of them really did that?

Like chapter 3, there was sort of a calmer intro section with the walk through the dark world but there was no time to explore the town at the end, and the dark world itself felt smaller almost? Like a lot of things happened, but we didn't explore much like we usually would, which was an interesting change of pace.

And chapter 4, we went through three whole dark worlds after an incredibly long introduction time, and the outro was significantly shorter than usual.

Also so many things were confirmed that I was not whatsoever expecting to be confirmed or shown this early on in the game. Seeing the Knight, and ESPECIALLY seeing the Titan, I thought that would all be chapter 6-7 stuff, maybe 5 or very end of 4 at the earliest, but nope we got them here and they scare me.

I might have gotten grazed by Apollo's Dodgeball a bit there though cause anyone remember my old cancelled Control Switch comic? Well now that it's cancelled I'm gonna give some spoilers to things I had planned for it, one main thing being, Dess was the Knight in that story and, when in the Dark World, she looked like a shadowy creature who could sometimes have white save-point eyes and a white outline. Her main goal was to resummon the Titans. Does that. Does that sound familiar perchance.

(Also that one frame of Susie's eyes turning red when she opened the fountain? Control Switch perhaps? :> I am fully aware it is not that but I find it funny we still got a red-eye-spark Susie in canon game)

I'm obviously not right about all of it cause Dess in Control Switch couldn't leave the Dark World and the canon one can, also my Dess was an actual deer while this one is some Gaster-looking-Dess-amalgamate who likely has very different goals but y'know just got a little grazed by the dodgeball of prophecy.

Although speaking of which, what is with the amalgamate stuff? The amalgamates shouldn't even be in this game, the people who are part of them are dead and there's no determination here, yet they've been showing up more and more. We got Everyman, part of Reaper Bird's attacks, showing up in both the Light and Dark worlds in the form of graffiti and Jevil attacks, we knew about that since chapter 2. But Endogeny appearing as the main visual in seeing things in the dark that aren't real? Endogeny puppy what are you doing there??? And the graves of both Shyra and Crystal being given a bit of extra importance (Snowy and his dad visiting Crystal's grave, and the fact that Shyra's grave does not seem to be visible in Susie's flashback along with her giving dialogue to ONLY that grave up until after chapter 4) seems concerning with everything else being considered.

Also more on that point, the Knight looks like an amalgamate to me. Like an amalgamate of Dess and Gaster, if not more people - the horns and possible fur? of Dess and the skeletal shape and holes in the hands of Gaster, along with a lot of amalgamate-looking features. A face that can appear and disappear at will, turning from a smile to an eye and back into a smile and shifting positions on the face, able to rip their mouth open into a scream and open a visible ribcage, dripping in their introduction animation, potentially unable to speak or at least unable to speak properly (haven't finished the ch3 boss fight to see if they ever do talk). It feels very amalgamate-like.

The Ralsei lore was also very good, he's still not telling us everything but he's being more honest about what he can tell us. I will admit I was kinda mean to him at the start of ch4 after how he talked to Susie but I think he deserved that one. He still gets comfort in the end. He's trying to be more honest, and from what I can tell, Kris is starting to care about him more.

Also I cannot do a ramble without talking about Susie but I also have SO MUCH to say about Susie so that might warrant an entire other ramble later bc I loved the character development and am also incredibly afraid. So I'll just do some quick random points about her.

I loved how the Gerson fight had such a different vibe and how it was focused around Susie rather than Kris, unlike any of the other secret bosses. Having a secret boss who isn't creepy and horrifying, especially one who doesn't go for the kill when they win and who was totally willing to give up the rewards even when Susie lost - it was such a nice change of pace. And Susie getting to have that mentor figure was wonderful, really. Her character development throughout these chapters was amazing.

But also - Susie's basically self-sufficient in a fight now. Chapter 1 and the first part of 2, Susie was the worst party member for a pacifist playthrough, cause no battle required fighting and the only thing she was good at was fighting, tanking hits, and occasionally sparing. Now she can act - maybe not amazingly, but enough to win a fight by herself if she needed to. Now she can heal - maybe not as cheaply as Ralsei, but with the magic buffs I gave her she can heal more hp in one turn than Ralsei and it's implied her heal will continue to improve. She's still the tankiest member and the best at fighting when it's needed. Out of anyone - Kris being unable to heal and Ralsei being awful at tanking damage - Susie is the person most able to win a battle on her own, which is fascinating to me.

But the most pressing thing about Susie in these chapters is uh. She's. She's supposed to die at the end of this, right? Like that is 100% what I am gathering from the prophecy and symbolism here. I don't know that she actually will - "The girl" in the prophecy didn't totally look like Susie and there's a ton of theming about breaking fate anyway - but she's supposed to, narratively, it's what everything is hinting at. Ralsei repeating how nice she is, Gerson trying to encourage her breaking the plot of the story and continuing to see tomorrow, the prophecy itself seeming to get stuck on her and who she is, how one triangle of the Delta Rune - the same one that had Susie's color on Kris's carpet - was broken, Susie's blood on Ralsei's face as he tells Kris that fate is already decided, Susie's not supposed to survive here. Maybe she will anyway, but she's not supposed to.

Actually I'm gonna grab a screenshot of the Deltarune triangles cause I feel like that's one that would be most easily not noticed in people's playthroughs. Thank you to my friend who took so many screenshots of our playthrough and noticed the broken triangle.

Susie's triangle is broken and I am very scared for her safety. Why does she bleed by the way. The game made it very clear to us for the rest of the chapter that monsters are supposed to dust. We got a book about it and we had Gerson's dust and everything. Why does Susie bleed. Is she even a monster. Ralsei called her a monster in the prophecy but the actual prophecy never says the word "monster," just "girl."

One more thing about the books tho - the not-goner bird guy blocking off all the books scares me. So does Onionsan, Onionsan's missing and the library bird guy was where Onionsan should be and was freaking out over something and it so very much scares me, but ig we'll see when we get there.

I think that's it for now, I may post more coherent theories later - especially when I'm free of hiding from spoilers - but for now if you read all that good for you XD Hope you enjoyed!

As a treat here is a sketch of me suffering to the Shadow Mantle Knight fight on our experimental save. I still have yet to finish it there and I'm also gonna have to do it when I play with a different friend, when I do a completion route with the first friend in preparation for ch 5-7, and potentially in the Weird Route if that has relation to it. So gl to myself yaaay :D I beat Gerson in two tries why is this one so much harder

[dimetrodone]

Modern Pixar movies have me believe they should have stuck to making short films, because they're having a hard time padding out their concepts in meaningful ways.

I’ve heard a few people say this but I genuinely think this has been a hurdle with their movies since the very start. Up and Wall-e are some of their movies that felt the most like they lost steam trying to be a full length movie. On the flip side Elemental somehow pushes its weak premise a lot more then I ever thought you could do with "what if fire people lived in a city"

A lot of Pixar movies precariously sit between being built on single core premises while also often being quite "trim' in ways. Plots largely focus on only 2 or 3 principal characters, antagonists are often minimal in presence if present at all. Any sort of ‘worldbuilding’ feels exclusively built around driving the plot forward and skeletal under its surface.

Those arnt necessarily flaws but the streamline formula sometimes shoots them in the foot. Good Dinosaur and Onward feel especially screwed by the pulled back formula, both being very basic point a to point b plots with 2 contrasting protagonists and no core antagonist. Finding Nemo and Inside Out have the same formula but worked just cause they add more interesting things with the adventure and have engaging B plots, their strengths feel less to do with the inherent strength of fish and mind homunculi over dinosaurs and elves and more just a case of the writing being stronger and adding more things into the mix.

[an1muuarts]

hyde's anatomy

Psychological / Neurological Aspects

this is the first thing that happens before the actual physical transformation

the formula interacts with the brain to produce large amounts of endorphins and stimulants

this is so that the person doesn't experience too much pain before, during, and after the transformation; but of course that has its limits

the stimulants help the body move around because the transformation leaves the body vulnerable. so once the transformation's over, the stimulants can help move the body to a safer area

Physical Aspects - Hyde

in the first transformation, hyde looked pale due to the blood loss. see the details of the transformation here

over time hyde gradually regains color

hyde looks young because the formula interacted with the youth elixir jekyll took, so hyde looked like jekyll's teen self

since hyde was high on stimulants on the first time, he didnt notice that the general structural integrity of his body was hanging by a thread

so much so that jekyll is bedridden for 4 months

hyde's skeletal structure is based of a four-legged mammal (like cats, dogs, bears, big cats, etc.)

hyde was hunched over in the early transformations because the body isnt still yet used to the transformation

but over time he can stand upright

hyde's recovery into a healthy and strong entity is because of the constant use of the formula

also hyde can parkour his way out of most situations

over time he gains more physical strength

Physical Aspects - Jekyll

he doesnt bleed/melt after the first transformation bc his flesh just squashes and stretches depending who he transforms into

jekyll looks a lot older, ie his skin is a lot thinner, and his body becomes progressively get weaker and weaker that his hair turns white (in which the appearance undos the elixir)

over time, bc jekyll has been taking the formula frequently, he gains tolerance and so his body is resisting the transformation sequence

back then, it was jekyll/hyde and vice versa; later in the story, it is mid-transformation/hyde. this is one of the many reasons why jekyll is desperate to make the antidote for the formula

at one point jekyll's body is so weak that he is almost crawling

Physical Aspects - General

there is a supernatural aspect to hyde's form

to start the transformation process the formula puts the mind into the soul (bc the bone cronching process shuffles the spine and the throat is always the most affected by the skeletal transformation)

the mind acts as some sort of barrier for the soul, so whenever people see hyde, his intents seep into the world

for example, if hyde is plotting a vengeful murder, a person nearby can sense it

it's the same for jekyll

obviously, both are capable for a spectrum of intents

however, during the transformation, since the body is literally being broken down, the mind-soul is more seen

with lanyon seeing this, the revelation had caused physical damage which also damaged his psyche

probably going to edit this if i get ideas

[onejellyfishplease]

Did some drawings of the turtles in my outfits!

Mikey's got on my favourite trousers (theyre baggy and they have mushrooms on them)

Donnie's got my chemistry pun t-shirt (its the 'element of suprise' lol) and a necklace of the skeletal formulae of caffeine

Raph's got my awesome biker jacket and an adorable yellow skirt

And Leo's got my favourite blouse that has cacti on it!!

[classic-vintage-bmw]

1991 BMW Z1 Coupe Concept

In 1991, BMW unveiled the Z1 Coupe Concept, a bold prototype crafted by BMW Technik GmbH, the company’s experimental division founded in 1985. Building on the Z1 Roadster’s innovative sliding doors and plastic body panels, the Z1 Coupe Concept reimagined the platform as a sleek shooting brake. Its elongated roofline and spacious rear hatch contrasted the roadster’s open-top design, while retaining the iconic vertically sliding doors—a feature that posed practical challenges for the taller coupe body. The prototype, primarily constructed from clay, wood, and plastic for its exterior, used a minimal steel framework to replicate the roadster’s galvanized chassis, ensuring structural alignment with the Z1 platform. Displayed as a full-size, non-functional model, the Z1 Coupe never progressed to production, yet its quirky silhouette hinted at BMW’s future experiments with unconventional coupes like the Z3 Coupe.

The Z1 Coupe was a testament to BMW Technik’s mission to push platform versatility and explore derivative models. The Z1’s architecture, with its steel chassis, flat aerodynamic undertray, and removable Xenoy thermoplastic panels, was designed for flexibility, enabling variations like the coupe and even theoretical all-wheel-drive configurations. Designated internally as the “Z2,” the concept, shaped under Harm Lagaay’s design leadership, blended E30 3 Series cues with unique features like roof bars, dual exhausts, and mirror-integrated spotlights. The prototype’s construction, combining a steel skeletal base with clay and plastic bodywork, allowed rapid design iteration while maintaining ties to the roadster’s engineering. Though high costs and niche appeal halted production, the Z1 Coupe’s platform-sharing vision influenced BMW’s development of the Z3 and Z4, showcasing the potential for scalable vehicle architectures.

Aerodynamics and engineering innovation defined the Z1 Coupe, mirroring the roadster’s advanced design. The Z1 platform featured a drag-optimized underbody shaped like an inverted wing, delivering 1g of lateral grip on standard tires. The coupe prototype, while non-functional, was built to reflect these principles, with its steel chassis core ensuring compatibility with the roadster’s transverse-mounted silencer and aerodynamic features. The concept retained the 2.5-liter inline-six engine in theory, offering 168 horsepower and 164 lb-ft of torque, though speculative plans for a 1.5-liter turbo engine, inspired by Formula 1 and aimed at Pikes Peak, surfaced in BMW’s archives, as noted in BMW’s Hidden Gems. These ambitious ideas underscored BMW Technik’s boundary-pushing ethos. The Z1’s engineering DNA, rooted in its steel and plastic construction, informed the structural rigidity of later Z-series models.

Though it remained a prototype, the Z1 Coupe Concept left a lasting mark on BMW’s legacy of bold experimentation. Its shooting brake design and platform-sharing strategy prefigured the cult-classic Z3 Coupe, proving BMW’s knack for blending practicality with driving passion. Publicly revealed in 2010 to celebrate 25 years of BMW Forschung und Technik GmbH, the Z1 Coupe, with its clay, wood, and plastic body atop a steel framework, symbolized the creative freedom of BMW’s engineers. The sliding doors, though less practical for a coupe, epitomized the Z1 project’s audacity. Today, enthusiasts cherish its influence lingering in BMW’s Z-series lineage and sparking ongoing fascination with its untapped potential.

[mikazuki1709]

Chemistry | Ratiorine Fic

Fandom: Honkai Star Rail

Ship: Dr. Ratio/Aventurine, Ratiorine

Rating: G

Words: 3.855

Tags: Heartache, Dr. Ratio is bad at feelings, POV Dr. Ratio, Love Confessions, Idiots in Love, Temporarily Unrequited Love, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Dr. Ratio is trying his best, Kabedon

Summary: Inexplicably for himself, Ratio has fallen in love with Aventurine. Trying to convey his feelings to the seemingly oblivious gambler presents him with unexpected challenges.

Preview:

As someone who has failed to gain the recognition of Nous, Ratio hesitates to call himself a genius. It is not a sign of modesty, just the plain result of an evaluation of facts. Yes, Ratio is an exceptionally intelligent man and the capacity of his brain exceeds what most of his fellow humans will ever be able to grasp. He lives for knowledge and has never once wavered in his ideal to follow the path of the erudition. And still, in the end, it has not changed the fact that neither Nous nor the genius society have ever graced him with their attention. To this there can only be one logical conclusion: he is not worthy to be called a genius after all. Somehow, in the position he finds himself in right now, this feels like a comforting thought. Because a genius should not struggle with a trivial matter like Ratio does at that very moment.

Veritas Ratio collects doctor titles like other people collect stamps. He is an expert in many fields of knowledge, has written countless scientific articles and held courses on a multitude of topics. Unsolved problems have always been welcome challenges for him, and he is proud to say that he has been able to solve them all. 

At least that is what it was like until a certain person stepped into his life and changed his brain’s chemistry.

Ratio still thinks that it sounds pathetic. He is well aware that it is a statement young people like to make about anything that catches their fleeting attention, a simple colloquialism, hilarious and highly misused. To him, it is unfortunately more than that. A fact. Something that has been happening inside his body, inside his brain, probably ever since the day he first met that irritating IPC guy. 

Noradrenaline, dopamine, oxytocin - Ratio knows everything there is to know about them. He is pretty confident that someone could wake him up in the middle of the night and ask him to write down their skeletal formulas and that he would not fail. What comes as a surprise is something else: Never would he have suspected himself to find out how they affect the human mind and body. Not like this, with himself being the test subject. For as much as he hates to admit it, there can be no doubt about the fact that Dr. Veritas Ration has fallen in love with the person who calls himself Aventurine.

[...]

Read the full fic on ao3

[askvectorprime]

Dear, Vector Prime.

How did Astrotrain end up with such a small and skeletal body?

Dear Astrological Anatomist,

In the universe where one might encounter this particular Astrotrain, the Great War had been going on for so long that energon supplies were running dangerously low. Many Cybertronians on both sides were forced to undergo the Micromaster downsizing procedure, and Astrotrain was no exception, giving up his locomotive form to do so.

Having three modes was something which Astrotrain had always felt elevated him above his peers; with only two, he developed quite the inferiority complex. This led him to begin experimenting with strange and unorthodox materials to upgrade his new, smaller body, in the hopes of unlocking a new transformation. Eventually, through a combination of Skeletron and Forestonite, he was able to grant himself a new double-barreled blaster mode—although the formula did have some side effects.

[fear-is-truth]

i clicked and thru your ‘thx for your msg’ tags and i giggled because you are an absolute angel and your respond to all those sweet message is the sweetest and also i was thinking about how you shorten the message as msg which is monosodium glutamate and it was a flavor enhancer and im like oh wowwww thats why!!! you’re so genius and yeah its pretty much just that. its silly sorry to bother you lol you’re so cool!!!!!!!!!!

omg this made me smile so so much, thank you for sending this !! and you’re not silly at all—it’s so sweet that you noticed that lil detail. tbh i did make the coincidental connection “msg” as monosodium glutamate when i started using this tag (reminds me of uncle roger’s yt vids) . back in high school, i used to love drawing chemistry skeletal formulas, so it all kinda clicked for me in a slightly nerdy way. ‘m so happy it made you giggle, tho !! thx for being so thoughtful, you’re the coolest 🤍

[mystic-writings]

remember the nights | chapter six — stargazing

WORD COUNT — 1,772

WARNINGS — none

NOTES — ah yes, the iconic skeletal formula fic, which i taught myself how to write a skeletal formula and promptly deleted the info from my brain a week later

previous chapter | masterlist | next chapter

School was quickly becoming the bane of your existence. Between the economics test you and the others had all studied for last week — which you were extremely thankful for, as it helped your grade immensely — and the teachers grilling everyone about midterms, you were under more pressure than you’d ever felt, and were assigned more homework than you knew what to do with. 

Along with that came the fact that college admissions had finally opened up, and you were entirely unsure as to where you wanted to go. There were good schools in New York City, and for a very long time you had planned to go to one of them with all of your friends so that you wouldn’t have to pay as much for a dorm or an apartment. Now, though, you’d have to do that wherever you went, and you hadn’t been talking to your city friends as much, and you just weren’t sure what to do anymore. No matter how far you went, you’d have to get a dorm or an apartment, and if you chose to go out of state, that meant even more of a cost. 

Today, though, you were focusing on something that, overall, seemed small, but to you, was anything but. You invited Newt over to the house to help you attempt to understand the one subject that seemed to be out to kill your GPA — chemistry. He should be arriving at any minute, wielding his seemingly miraculous understanding of the science in order to help you with the ten homework questions that you’d been putting off since Thursday. 

Dinner had long been eaten and cleaned up, Thomas and Chuck had retreated to Chuck’s room to play video games for the rest of Chuck’s night, and your dad and Maggie were watching a movie in the living room. You were with them, sitting in the armchair and barely processing the movie as you waited patiently for Newt to show up. 

When the doorbell rang, you practically sprung from your chair, ignoring the chuckle your father let out as you did so. Newt greeted Maggie and your dad as you invited him inside, his school bag slung over one shoulder. He received a quick, warm welcome back from the couple as they kept their eyes on the movie.

Newt followed you upstairs as you led him into your room, keeping the door open — a rule firmly set by your dad when you told him about Newt’s coming over this afternoon, though you knew nothing that your dad was implying was going to happen between you and Newt. 

“I still don’t get how you don’t understand chemistry,” Newt said, dropping his bag by your bed and taking a seat on it. 

You scoffed, grabbing your textbook and homework supplies, sitting cross legged near the head of your bed. “Says the guy who was literally named after Isaac Newton.” 

“One, remind me to punch Gally when I see him tomorrow for telling you that,” Newt rolled his eyes, “and two, Isaac Newton was a mathematician, not a chemist. You’re thinking of Marie Curie.”

“Oh, like that makes such a big difference,” you dismissed him, grabbing your pencils. “You’re still named after a freaking genius.” 

Newt laughed, shaking his head before mirroring your position on the bed and diving into the material. 

Half an hour passed by as Newt explained the homework and everything that related to it, but it seemed as though your brain simply refused to process it. You’d only gotten three questions done, and you were twice as frustrated as you were when you first started. 

“How do skeletal formulas even work? I don’t get it.” You groaned, pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes. “Just write out the damn formula, give me a periodic table, and let me figure it out from there.” 

Newt couldn’t stifle his laughter. “It doesn’t quite work like that, Y/n,” he said, writing something out on his piece of paper and showing it to you. “Writing out a skeletal formula is just taking an outstretched version of a molecule and breaking it down into its functional groups and carbon.” 

He turned the paper back to him, writing something out, and underlining ‘2-butanol’ before getting back to work, explaining and showing it to you as he went along. “So, you see how I wrote out all the atoms connected to one another with these lines? C is carbon, H is hydrogen, and O is oxygen. The lines that connect the carbon together is the carbon skeleton, and OH — the oxygen and hydrogen — are the functional group, so they can stay, and so can the carbon.” 

Newt erased some things on the paper before the lead hit the paper, drawing out something new. “Take out all of the letters except for the OH, connect all the lines, and viola,” he showed you the paper with a smile. “A skeletal formula.” 

“Oh,” you nodded, “I still don’t get it.” 

Newt sighed, dropping his pencil onto his paper. “Honestly, I’m starting to think you’re a lost bloody cause.”

“Maybe I am.” You shrugged, glancing around your room before an idea came to your mind. “How about we take a break, do something else, and come back to this with fresh minds.” 

“Like what?”

You smiled, almost mischievously, nodding your head to the window across the room. “Wanna go look at the stars?”

Within minutes, you and Newt had pulled a blanket onto the roof of the garage, laying it out across the shingles in order to be comfortable. Newt had grabbed his jacket from where he put it on the back of your chair, and you brought out your comfiest sweater from your closet. 

Newt was already laying down comfortably by the time you’d gotten onto the roof again, his hands tucked under his head. You laid down in the spot to his right, eyes trailing up to the sky, mesmerized by the view. The quiet of a town already gone to sleep settled over the two of you, washing away the stress of high school chemistry and replacing it with the tranquility of a quiet town and a beautiful sky. 

“It’s so beautiful,” 

“Yeah, it is,” Newt’s voice nearly caught you off guard, as though you’d forgotten he was even there. 

When you turned to look at him, his eyes were already on you. 

Newt sucked in a breath, turning his gaze back to the stars. “I used to do stuff like this all the time when I was younger.” 

“I don’t think I’ve seen stars like this… well, ever.” You admitted. “Living in a big city, all that light pollution… The sky didn’t even get that dark at night. It just got sort of… reddish. It wasn’t even like it was really dark outside sometimes.” 

“Really?” Newt frowned. “I can’t even imagine something like that. When I was young, I had this obsession with the stars and constellations and stuff. Every chance I got, I’d ask my mum to buy me books about them. I even learned how to point out the bloody constellations from my bedroom window.” 

And, for the next little while, that’s what Newt did. For the better part of an hour, though it didn’t feel anything close to that long, Newt pointed up at the stars, rattling off star names, the names of the constellations that connected them, and some of the stories that people connected to them long ago. You watched him happily, soaking up everything he told you. You glanced at him more than you did the sky, though, as the look on his face was what had you truly enamored. The passion and joy gleaming in his eyes was worth the cold chilling you to the bone. 

The chill of the autumn air mixed well with the cadence in Newt’s voice, soothing you until, before you knew it, you were teetering in and out of sleep, balancing very carefully on that dangerous tightrope. 

When you finally found the strength to open your eyes, Newt had fallen silent, eyes locking with yours as a playful smile stretched onto his lips. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You fell asleep,” he laughed. 

“I did?”

“Yeah, about twenty minutes ago, I think,” he shrugged, sitting up. “We might wanna go inside now, though. I’ve gotta go soon, and we still have work to do.”

You groaned, dreading going back to the discarded chemistry textbooks on your bed, watching Newt push himself to his feet and extending two hands to help you stand. You accepted the help and quickly got to your feet, ignoring how warm his hands were in your ice-like ones. 

Still, you folded up the blanket and trudged inside after Newt, returning to your homework and doing your best to complete it within the half hour window you were left with until Newt had to go back home. Most of that time, however, had been spent joking around, mostly about how you were most definitely going to fail the class, until you decided to copy Newt’s homework, which is mainly what you’d been doing for most of the semester, anyway. 

You walked Newt to the door at ten minutes to ten o’clock. Most of the lights in the house were off, and your main guiding light was the TV as your father lay on the couch, passed out with some history docuseries playing absently in front of him. 

You opened the door for Newt, leaning against the frame with one hand on the doorknob after he passed through it and stepped onto the front porch. Just as he began to leave, you said, “Thanks, by the way,”

Newt turned, a playful smile on his face. “For what? Letting you copy my homework for the hundredth time?”

“No,” you scoffed a laugh, “for teaching me something, at least. I might not understand the shrouding mystery behind a skeletal formula, but I do know about the Greek mythology of Orion’s belt, and that’s gotta count for something.” 

Newt shrugged, his smile growing softer with each second. “No biggie. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Yeah. See you tomorrow.” You nodded, watching him descend your few stairs and head to his car, pulling away from the curb and heading home. 

Long after his headlights were gone from your sight, you headed inside with a sigh, resting your forehead against the wood of the door as you closed it. And even though the day ahead of you was just going to be another boring, monotonous day, you couldn’t help but be excited for it to begin.

series masterlist: @heliads @ghostofscarley @badbatch-simp24 @virginia-peters @third-broparcelicito @lamolaine (open!)

[worlds-leading-gnome-expert]

quastion. for the benzene ring post what makes him wrong about the structure (genuinely confused)

Great question! I'll try my best to answer it simply, but it is going to take a while to lay out the evidence so stick with me here. I dont know the extent of your chemistry knowledge so I will assume some basic background knowledge of chemistry (mainly that you know what a bond is). Kekulé was working with benzene in the 1860s. By this point the formula of C6H6 (tumblr why wont you let me use subscripts?) was known, but the struggle among chemists was explaining the 1:1 ratio of carbon to hydrogen atoms in terms of a structure. (There were some absolutely wild suggestions, you should look them up). I'm not going to go too into this though, I'm just going to discuss why Kekulé's benzene structure is not the actual structure of benzene.

Let's start by looking at what Kekulé proposed. Kekulé proposed that benzene was made of a ring of six carbons. Each of these carbons was bonded to one hydrogen each. Between each carbon in the ringthere were alternating single and double bonds. It looked like this:

Or you may have seen the beloved skeletal structure:

Now, this structure explains quite a lot about benzene. And Kekulé made some modifications to his theory that explained that the double and single bonds rapidly changed between carbons. Consider this diagram:

It might look like the ring has just been rotated, but remember, each carbon is its own carbon and these are technically slightly different (think about a set of sextuplets, even though they are very similar in appearance, are they actually each the same person?) What Kekulé proposed, the rapid switching of these bonds was good but it isn't wholly correct. Let's look at why with some thermochemical evidence and then some structural evidence.

The thermochemical evidence might be a bit difficult to explain since I'm not sure of your chemistry knowledge but I'll try. Let's look at a reaction. You can add hydrogens to benzene to make something called cyclohexane (C6H12). If you do this to Kekulé's proposed structure and use theoretical values (message me if you want more and I'll show this in more detail) you get a change in enthalpy value of roughly -360kJ/mol (if this makes no sense dont worry. Just worry about the number.) However if you carry out the experiment on actual benzene, you get a value of -207kJ/mol. Huh? That's a difference of 153kJ/mol! That means actual benzene is more stable than Kekulé benzene. That's one piece of proof showing something isn't quite right with his structure.

Now let's look at structural evidence. Most of this work was done via a technique called x-ray crystallography in the late 1920s by Kathleen Lonsdale. Each type of bond has a certain length. We determine this with x-ray crystallography. A carbon-carbon single bond is 0.154nm. A carbon-carbon double bond is 0.133nm. That means if you were to look at Kekulé's benzene using this technique, you might expect three of the carbon-carbon bonds to be 0.133nm and three carbon-carbon bonds to be 0.154nm. In reality, this isn't what is seen. Every carbon-carbon bond in Benzene is the same length (about 0.140nm). Something in between. So the bonds between the carbon also must be something in between. Not quite single, not quite double. This means it is better to describe the structure of benezene as having what's called a delocalised pi electron system. Instead of alternating double single bonds it's more like each carbon-carbon bond is a single bond and then nearly has a double bond. This diagram shows it a bit better than the description:

Further evidence for this delocalised system comes from looking at the number of isomers (same atoms but arranged in space differently) of a substituted benzene ring (we'll look at C6H4Cl2, but just think of it as two hydrogens being replaced by two chlorines). Let's see Kekulé's Benzene first:

We see four separate isomers (remember, each carbon is it's own entity). Now if we look at actual benzene:

There are only three.

Another thing is that substances with carbon-carbon double bonds under go a type of reaction called an addition reaction so with Kekulé's structure you would expect it to do the same. But benzene does not do this (it undergoes substitution reactions though).

But yea! Kekulé's benzene (or cyclohexa-1,3,5-triene if you'd like) was a good enough structure for a while but it isn't quite right. I hope this was helpful anon and sorry for the essay. Let me know if you'd like something further explained

[velvetwarfare]

It would’ve been a peaceful afternoon — if not for the vampiress popping out of nowhere, dramatically bowing before beaming up at the other,

“ DEAREST DARLING ~ ! You look like someone who would desire a DARING touch to their scaly physique! Not to say you are not dashing enough already, because my, what a lovely leetle creature you are! “

Gotta butter them up first. Betty casually pulls out a glowing elixir from her bag, swishing the cerulean liquid around like wine.

“ I am an elixir brewer, you see. The finest of potions, guaranteed. This one here is my NEWEST formula — meant to strengthen the skeletal structure and give one a good shine that is sure to improve anyone’s popularity with appearance!

Trust me, I tested it just a bell ago! “

That’s a lie, she never tests any of her potions. But she’s going to play it off as truthfully as possible to win him over.

“ Would you make my perfect day in Hell by trying it out ~ ? Oh, how happy you would make me! “

@sirpxntious

[alicepao13]

S06E10

For a golf episode, okay. For a filler, also okay. Not that much going on.

Let's get one thing out of the way first:

Episode title says caddy. They liked that pun, I guess. As the grammar website I checked explains it further, it's not considered a huge error.

CityTV has such a nerve to put their logo in there after all their scheduling changes and general lack of interest for this show (I have no beef with that interview man, I forgot his name, but his interview with Diesel and John Reardon before the season premiere was actually fun).

I absolutely had no idea that women's golf was so lucrative.

"All I heard is sandwich" Thank god for Sarah. I only like Sarah from now on. Not even Rex, he seems too into golf, although there are too many balls involved for a dog to stay indifferent.

Joe joined the golf club when Camilla was born? Didn't he, like, adopt her after he married her mother? Or is my recollection false?

Charlie had worked as a caddie. Well, certainly some backstory there. And of course he's like, the best of them at it even if he doesn't want to join the club.

Seriously, we can't take them anywhere. Especially Rex, whose nose doesn't take a single day off. Boom, one more day off ruined.

I tuned out in every single golf talk, which is unfortunate because it was mixed with the plot (still found the culprit as soon as they appeared on screen). It's just really hard to follow when I don't care about it at all. Since I like almost all sports, I consider those I don't like as non-sports. Mainly golf and formula car racing.

They cut the chase scene? What?

That scene where Charlie drives a golf cart and Rex runs alongside him does not deserve a cool music lmao

Charlie playing golf as he's interviewing a (at the time) person of interest. I can't decide if this is unprofessional or I just don't like golf.

Ah, please someone tell me how many shots they did for that uninterrupted shot of Charlie's short putt that went pretty close to the hole. I know that the guys actually golf in real life but this had to be close but also not go in the hole for Rex to grab it.

Amazon! How the hell can you put an ad about fast delivery in this show, when you consistently fail to deliver the actual show on time in your streaming service? Am I the only one seeing the irony here? Last season it was too early, this season too late.

Also, Jesse, don't you dare wear that. Charlie's orange jumpsuit was actually a better shade of orange than this one.

Okay, maybe there were a bunch of chase scenes in this episode so they felt they could lose one. Acceptable.

Poor Rex's head. I'd have liked more of Charlie's worry please, although it seems like we might get this in a future episode.

This might be the first time we see Rex's teeth as Charlie checks for god knows what. Come on, show, let Rex bare his teeth just once while growling at a bad guy!

*gasps* Skeletal remains! On a family show!

They shouldn't have spoiled Jesse's shirt in the end scene on their promotional pictures. Not that it's such a big thing, but they should actually stop uploading promotional pictures from the final scenes altogether, or post them after the show has aired.

I liked the teamwork in this one. I believe the golf episode had been brewing since S2, where they had to scrap the idea due to a heavy snowfall, which turned the golf field into a ski slope. There is no avoiding golf, apparently!

Promo: What the actual fuck. Charlie and Rex combined whump? Charlie thrown out of a moving truck? Rex missing? Charlie having temporary amnesia? Hospital? Is it my birthday? (Well, it's actually pretty close to my name day instead.) Please squeeze a scene in there with a worried Sarah, and I take back every single bad thing I said about this season (the show only, I don't take back anything about CityTV). Yes, even the whales.

Of course this would be the episode that they'd take a break on. Oh, well. After that terrible hiatus, I can stand to wait a few days. A day had passed already as I was looking for the episode (turns out that they knew what they were doing lol).

[an1muuarts]

rambles/concepts of a j&h au that will be in an animatic/game/fic on ao3 idfk im tired maybe it wont happen due to how busy i am but maybe i'll come back to it in the future

long thread under the cut:

*the transformation: im trying to be more accurate to the book (bro was just straight up melting), but with my own take on it.

*remember my post about the transformation in the novel may be referencing the stages of decay? well here's the process of my version of the transformation:

stage 1: skin turns grey/pale green in some spots; bones start to soften to allocate for the transformation. the best position to transform is by lying on a flat surface, preferably a soft bed to minimize the possible pain and damage

stage 2: skin becomes grey; the transformation of the bones start in the neck, thus creating internal bleeding

stage 3: skin becomes thin and black; bones melt and reaarrange into the skeletal structure of a 4 legged mammal

stage 4: skin starts to slough; bones continue to grind and rearrange

stage 5: since the victim is not actually decaying, the skin falls apart, blood spills out. but the muscles and tendons (if not torn or dislocated during the bone breaking thing) remain on the body, but shifts around to allocate to the new formation of the skeletal system

stage 6: the newly formed body starts to heal. the congealed blood helps in healing.

*hyde's body heals fast, and his psyche has a very strong pain-killing properties from the adrenaline and endorphines

*after the first transformation, jekyll is bedridden and it took around 4 months to recover. he had poole and the other servants to fetch ingredients for supplements

*the reason why hyde has the skeletal structure of a 4 legged mammal, (he can still stand upright, but hes more comfortable crouched/hunched over), is because in the novel, people had described hyde to have some sort of deformity, but they cant pinpoint what. and i thought, "then the deformity is internal then." and yeah, that led to me thinking of cronchy bones

*also i plan to integrate the concept of regression (not the coping mechanism kind) to the overall transformation situation

*i kinda liked that in the 1931 movie hyde looks like an early primate because jekyll is evolving, but backwards

*in addition to that, i associate jekyll with green and hyde with red. i'll probably make a post abt this

*i'll probably make a post detailing hyde's physical form

*jekyll's reasons for making the formula: as a doctor, he had met so many unfortunate and pitiful people; he has seen hell up close

*unfortunately for the others jekyll resolved to make a quick cure-all rather than tackling the cultural, social, and systemic issue of the corruption in their city

*he had tested the formula on rabbits, mice, cats , and dogs. and it worked on them, he just needed it to test on a human. but unfortunately, human experiments are very rarely get approved, and the experimental nature of jekyll's studies doesnt help at all.

*aside from all of this, jekyll is considered as the "good doctor" where he patches people up wherever he goes, always carrying his medicine bag

*after his recovery of the first transformation, jekyll continued on with his experiments

*due to the expenses of buying ingredients, supplements, finances for whatever hyde did when he went out, even for a rich man like jekyll this was beyond him. more on so that he doesnt want people to find out that he had been conducting illegal experiments and the crimes hyde did (and also trying to hide any connection that him and hyde are one person)

*since jekyll goes to events where rich people get together, he realized that he has a list of people to harvest from and sell on the black market

*after a while, the killings are becoming more frequent. and jekyll wasnt acting like he had to do this because he needs to, but more on because of the greed

*since hyde exacerbates jekylls urges, his frequent exposure to murder had corrupted jekylls passion as a surgeon

well thats it for now im eepy bye

[chaoscolacentral]

Sonic Racing CrossWorlds - Chaos, Uncontrolled

Last weekend I got to take part in the Network Test for Sonic Racing CrossWorlds. Spoiler - it’s good! It’s arcadey! It’s a clusterfuck! It’s NOT Sonic and Sega All Star Racing Transformed!

I think that’s the big thing you really have to reconcile. Sega made the best kart racer of all time - All Star Racing Transformed is in a league of its own, and if you’ve never played it, that might be surprising to hear. Immaculate drifting and handling, weapons with skill expression, gorgeous tracks with presentation reverent enough to overwhelm the Skies of Arcadia creators with emotion. Only Crash Team Racing comes close to it for me.

This isn’t Sonic and Sega All Stars Racing Transformed, and it took me at least half my playtime to accept that. The handling is good, but different. Air tricks can’t be failed, meaning you can spam them on every jump for a boost - the risk/reward is gone. Boats and planes return, but their new gameplay feels neutered - truly a side attraction to driving, rather than a companion piece.

ARST wasn’t the biggest commercial success, though. It was really technical and demanding, its challenge mode was NAILS hard, and its online was filled with devils who lived and breathed it, so I have to concede that copying the formula wouldn’t necessarily be the best idea. I do think that CrossWorlds hits a similar arcade-y vibe to ASRT, but whereas the former serves up an experience where every replay gives you a chance to perfect your skills, the latter is a chaotic, scrappy fight to the finish where you never know what you’re going to get.

The biggest gimmick this time are the Warp Rings. Every second lap gives player 1 the opportunity to select where the race will go. Lap 1 might be a glitzy cyber stadium, but Lap 2 could see you on a giant roulette wheel, thrust back in time to dodge rampaging dinosaurs, or flying through a lava-filled asteroid! After that, you’re back to your first track for a final lap, but the layout is different. New shortcuts open, new hazards are revealed, and I swear you get even more of the hard-hitting items. There’s even a chance for the levels to randomly change gimmick. Frenzy Mode saw 10x more speed boosters litter the track like candy, and your drift boosts charged up nigh instantly. It all makes for one frenetic time, and I can’t wait to see what else is on offer when the game releases.

If you won the last match, you get to wear a little crown for the next match. Well, for Cream, Cheese gets to wear it instead. Adorable.

Speaking of tracks, I really liked the stage choices! There’s a bunch of different paths and mini-shortcuts even outside of the lap change mechanics. Metal Harbour from SA2 has rampaging GUN robots and a giant ramp that appears after a rocket launches. It’s very thematic of the level it’s referencing. E-Stadium is a fun take on Green Hill Zone - replicating its assets in a holographic voxel format as decoration for a giant stadium, lined with cheering Chao.

The breakout star for me was Wonder Museum. Rather than be an explicit callback to another Sonic game, it serves as an in-universe museum lined with lots of mini callbacks. The cynic in me could have easily seen this be a prop reuse track, but its all new assets! It has Tail’s biplane and ancient rocks that resemble something from Frontiers, yes, but it also has old-timey cars, skeletal dinosaurs, and some SA2-styled archaeologist ghosts flying around - the whole thing doesn’t seem like a desperate callback so much as a piece of contextualised world-building. Yes, this is totally what a museum in the Sonic universe would look like!

Some surprising choices for the first 9 characters! I mean, Tails? Who even is that?! (Also I made a C.C coloured car :D)

Anyway, back to the gameplay. This lil preview is a rattle off of my thoughts ad-hoc, and that means it’s a scattered and scrambled and all over the place and - hey! What’s that on the horizon?! OH GOD IT’S AN ANALOGY!!

I can’t understate it - CrossWorlds is a fucking warzone. I’ve never seen a kart racer where the group was so densely packed. This feels like Mario Kart Wii on crack. Often times, a well-timed boost item could see me rocket from 11th to 1st - and a weapon from my opponent could easily send me back. Racers are constantly scraping paint against one another. There was no situation in which I felt a player could dominate - every one of us was always seconds away from victory or disaster. Somehow, getting hit doesn’t feel awful - you’ll slow, but never to a full stop, and you’re usually back at full speed in a matter of seconds. The expectation is that you’re going to be a hit, a lot, and I do think it works, but you really have to be in the mood for it.

Gadgets only add to the mayhem. You can add passive abilities to your cars, and they mix things up quite substantially. One lets you time your boost for more gains a la Crash Team Racing, one makes your air tricks faster. Some can even start you with a certain item! My build consisted of carrying more rings (which correlate to your speed), and gaining rings every time I slammed my car into someone. In my dinky little Handling-type car, I felt a bit like a parasite, sucking on the teat of the big mean predators for their sweet, sweet rings. I do wonder if there will be a dominant meta build that will win out, but I guess time while tell! For now, there feels like there’s enough customisation that everyone will find something to match their playstyle.

On the subject of cars, you can make your own! There’s Speed, Acceleration, Power, and Handling, and they each have different stats. You can buy and unlock parts, change the colours, and even add stickers! It’s delightful. Some of the cars are clearly based on characters, like Sonic and Shadow, and some are really cool callbacks. You can make Eggman’s drill car from Sonic 2, or ride in a Motobug-inspired nippy thing. Anyone can ride any car, so you can put Cream the Rabbit in a giant killdozer. I can’t wait to see how Extreme Gear, the airboards from Sonic Riders, play like, plus what other car options they’ll have at launch! Collecting and building your own might give CrossWorlds some real staying power.

Speaking of presentation, it’s full of nice touches. There’s an emote wheel unique to each character, each with little chibi renditions that match the Sonic the Sketchog series Sega put out a few years back. Characters take part in banter, but it’s so rare as not to overstay its welcome. Cream cheerfully exclaiming that she hit Shadow and Omega, while the two earnestly express how proud they are of her warms my heart like nobody’s business.

There were a lot of Shadows - why would you pick him when you could put Cream in a killdozer though?!

I only have two big criticisms. It took a little bit too long to get into a race for my liking. There’s match making, then 30 seconds of lobby antics where you vote for a track (you can emote and honk your horn which is pretty silly though), then loading in…then racing! It probably adds up to like 2 or 3 minutes per race in total. It’s not the end of the world, but reducing that would definitely help. The other issue is the sound design - it’s mixed in a very muddy way. Characters yell every time you span the air tricks, which you’re doing all the time, items blare and bleep and it all washes out the music. I don’t think I like the music much, either. It’s serviceable, until the 3rd lap, where a choral rendition of the track’s theme will play. It kind of gives Pokemon Scarlet and Violet, but in execution it’s a bit anaemic. Only the jazzy lounge stylings of Wonder Museum made an impact with me. It’s super weird, they made levels like Water Palace from Sonic Rush then didn’t put a remix of Back 2 Back in? Ocean View, from Sonic Heroes, gets a jingle of Sonic R’s theme, and then You Can Do Anything from Sonic CD?? I understand the reasoning, because Ocean View did the same thing in both All Stars Racing & Transformed, but that was a game representing multiple franchises! This is Sonic! Use the good music!!

Ultimately, I think your enjoyment of CrossWorlds will depend on what you want out of a kart racer - you cannot drive your way to victory alone, and items will absolutely ruin your day, but you can give as good as you get. Personally I think there’s a balance between skill and luck, and this might be skirting just a bit too far on the randomness side. That being said, I’m also gutted the weekend is over and I can’t play it anymore, so that speaks for itself really! I'm very keen to see the full cast of characters, hoping for challenge mode to rival ASRT’s and a story mode to beat Team Sonic Racing’s - so I guess time will tell!

Also, King Boom Boo is the blue shell equivalent. He wears sunglasses because he’s weak to sunlight in SA2. Delightful.

[eilirv]

organic chemistry skeletal formulae are like biblically accurate angels to me