#Is it salt or cyanide

[bluejayscrying]

Jason decides not to go batshit insane on Tim and instead starts subtly and occasionally trying to kill him.

Tim, tired: I’m hungry…make me food? It tastes special when you make it…

Jason, who as been adding poison to his food for the past week: that’s because I make it with love <3

[sailforvalinor]

Joker and Ace: Jester’s Privilege Chapter 4, a summary:

[forestberriezz]

it's now law in romania for restaurant owners to list all the additives they're using in the food!!🎊🎉

[i-must-feel]

When I am angry I want other people to see it as real for once. I don’t want someone to just laugh and call me an angry *insert physical trait here* woman. At least I’m a woman and not a girl but I want to be angry in a way that isn’t a shrill harpy’s shriek, but actually bloody gruesome rage. I want to choose things I want to be the murder not the victim. I want to be something, anything, as long as it’s not the mistress or the angry wife or the virgin or the prude. I want to be real. I want to be ugly and disgusting and gruesome I don’t want any of it to ever be an aesthetic. I want to be real and not a concept.

[ugh-yoongi]

hi! would it be alright if i asked what your favorite namjoon fics are? thank you and have a great day 💗🥹

hello nonnie, it is always okay to ask me for fic recs! <3

most of these works contain mature themes/content. please heed tags and do not engage with any explicit work if you are a minor!

i know there are a bunch i've forgotten, so please reblog and share your own work and your faves!

also, please note: there are a lot of fics on these lists that are posted to ao3. it has recently come out that a volunteer was removed from their position for being pro-palestine (you can find the twt thread here). i am in the process of looking for a better alternative, but until then, it is unfortunately probably the best way to share these stories. while i personally won't be posting to or reading on ao3 for the time being, how you choose to engage going forward is completely up to you! i just wanted to make sure i was being transparent.

namjoon x reader

anything by @effortandmore

anything by @hamsterclaw

anything by @miscelunaaa

1-year anniversary by @johobi

omerta by @anotherbtswriter

hammer it home series by @gukslut

hey, it's me & leave no trace behind by @yoongiphoria

love bytes by @stutterfly

real magic & park and ride by @here2bbtstrash

house of cards & guilty by @xjoonchildx

lacuna by @eoieopda

dream team by @bangtanintotheroom (feat. hobi)

cyanide on my bedsheets by @jimilter

laundry day by @snackhobi

bloom by @hobidreams

the snow globe effect by @gukyi

you've got a friend in me by @wwilloww

pronoia by @junghelioseok

limbo by @beahae

love hard by @raplinesmoon

swiss miss by @here4kpopfics (feat. seokjin)

my feet to follow, and my heart to hold by @daechwitatamic

a fine line by @moni-logues

roommates with benefits

as always, mxm fics under the cut!

member x member

softer than steel (namseok)

frustrations in late foucault (namseok)

the universe needs more you (namseok)

in your atmosphere (namseok)

why don't you figure (my heart) out (namseok)

i'm on fire (rap line)

delta (rap line)

꽃꽂이. kkotkkoji (namjin)

you have 1 new message (namjin)

beta tau sigma (namjin)

white rabbit (namjin)

local dumbass idiot helps sexy criminal and then writes sad bird poems instead of just saying Yes Seokjin I Like You Too (namjin)

easy (namjin)

and they were roommates (namjin)

burn me like an ember (namjin)

the understood boundaries of self (namjin)

more walls (collected along the way) [namjin]

imprints & magnitude (namjin)

salt water (namjinkook)

disgruntledofficebrat [active] (namkook)

you can leave the cape on (namkook)

108 degrees (namkook)

the whole of the moon (namkook)

travelogue with a frat boy (namkook)

it's a color that i can't describe (namkook)

how much to give and how much to take (namkook)

the courage of stars (namkook)

come take it (if you want a piece of me) [namkook]

a feel so sweet (namgikook)

objects in mirror are closer than they appear (namgi)

green carnation (namgi)

the added bonus (namgi)

tear you apart (namgi)

different when i'm with you (namgi)

adrift (namgi)

i'll fuck you if you let me, baby (namgi)

sleepless in (namgi)

恋の予感 (namgi)

take it or leave it (namgi)

baby, but we will (namgi)

verified amateurs [online now] (namgi)

cyrano more like cyraNO (namgi)

record it for later (namgi)

into the red morning (taejoon)

don't call it love (taejoon)

i am red with love (taejoon)

the bad thing (minimoni)

you were more than just light (minimoni)

wish we'd fall in love (minimoni)

but i want it anyway (minimoni)

[spurbleu]

mouth, reprieves ♛︎

[ken sato x afab reader]

S. Ken Sato is a bitter loser. And you are patient- if not a little giving.

warnings: mdni, blowjob

word count: 2k

࿓༚︎︎‧⁎︎✳︎⁎︎‧︎༚︎࿓︎

A pity bloated between your lungs.

The loss wasn’t significant, only by a point. But you supposed that’s what made it sting - the stain of ‘so close’ and ‘almost’ near wicked in the grooves of the bat hold, or the home plate- plastic patched in rifts of dust and dirt (hard to swallow, all of it). Its grief was visible- slumped shoulders and buckling knees stuck to the grime on their uniforms, the announcer’s voice coming in- static and lame.

“And that is a wrap for the Giants 3rd game of the season. First loss this year- what does it mean for the future?”

It rattled the stadium- the echoing disappointment. It folded in the gaps of the chairs, salting the air in a bitter, frustrated sigh. You were unsure if you wanted to join the chorus or curse it.

The memories seeped through- distinct. The pull of his lips when they met yours. The twitch of his knuckles when he held his liquor. His light heels after his last physical therapy session (when magnified- wings. Stamped on the bone of his ankle- fluttering- impatient). The thrum of his snore, thick with anticipation- and expectations (never met).

Kenji’s first game of the season- a loss.

You didn’t take the frigidity personally. You knew the clouds in his iris, the roll of thunder from the back of his throat and off his tongue, was just an indication he cared. The breakage of his indifference, esteem cracking through its steel walls. He had learned to remove blame from his teammates- but as a result the weight on the breadth of his own shoulders grew immense.

It simmered- his insecurities. Boiling beneath the thin patches of skin where he slid on his knees- tender and spiteful. Drives home were borderline silent, aside from the heavy breath against his philtrum and the shifting of his shirt as you rubbed the tense muscles connecting his shoulders. Sometimes, it felt like talking to a wall- resistant to reassurance- as if the letters in ‘you did just fine’ and ‘I’m proud of you’  were venomous (fearful of the gentleness in cyanide).

But it was how he was. Equally as accepting of praise as he was averse to it. A paradox at home base.

You stood on the balls of your feet, swallowing dry air in timid gulps, watching the entrance to the locker room doors. Other wives and girlfriends- some children- and family members stood there in tense guilt- hands itching to embrace the men in a hug that promise ‘next time’.

Eventually, the belly of the stadium spit the players out, slick in its drooly chagrin.

There was a drop to the regular sharpness of his cheeks, ending at the base of his lips- dry and cracked. His hair stuck to his forehead- wet with outlines from the notches of his helmet- which was tucked under his arm (it looked more like a burden than a prize- its frequent glimmer dimmed by dust). The valley under his eyes a depressing shade of plum- his eyes dimmer yet festering.

But it was his brows that exposed the loss of immunity. Pleats in the center of his face, furrowing so low, that if you weren’t close enough, they would have looked joint with the shadow they caused.

When he found you amongst the hushed comfort, the rigidity in his shoulders collapsed into a softer word, striding towards you like a kid who broke a window (baseball myth, but maybe you’ll let him live in it for now).

“H-“

He curled into in gap of your shoulder and your neck, arms lazily embracing the small of your back and pulling you into his chest. You felt the hairs of his brows sink deeper into your shoulder, his breath fanning on your collar bone.

Your hand came to fill its gaps with the tangle of his hair, palming his temples. This embrace was familiar- not because he lost often, but because you found it somewhere in every day. The mornings during breakfast, pillow talk under plains of insomnia, the after-sex glow. Touch tugged a heart string in you both, and although there was no proof, you swear you could feel his heart slow when it kissed yours.

(He made you a romantic, and even after years the shoe still feels too big)

You pull away, placing a gentle kiss on his lips. He didn’t kiss you back, but you didn’t mind. It was more of a reminder anyway- a way for you to say I’m here.

“Let’s go home.”

▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎

Looking from a doorway in the movies always appears more tranquil than it actually is.

There is nothing peaceful about watching your partner blister under their own defeat. The bounce of his knee, a desperate attempt to relax the tension that mends his muscles to the bone. You, left in your own uncertainty, bit the bumpy flesh behind your bottom lip, legs flinching with the impulse to do.  

Comfort, rally, motivate. Your mind searched for a better plan of action in the rise and fall of his shoulders, as he scrutinized the recordings of the game in dim light under a magnifying glass (ants in summer heat).

The body talks. Yours was saying thousands of things at once- none resonating. Dry hands, calloused by hourglass sand and the gruff reality of your own exhaustion, would do nothing but stir him from his own brood then bring him deeper into it. Your mouth would say filtered words with little connotation, leaving you both in a spell that felt purposefully blundering.

Then a spark, somewhere lower than your hips. A blushing growth- spoke in deep tones of arousal and charity.

Alone, your hands and mouth proved useless.

But together…

You pushed yourself off the wide wall, shuffling over in your pajama set loud enough that he could hear you coming. He didn’t move, eyes still trained in silent remorse as he watched his tapes. Your heart dragged on the surface of your ribs- pity.

You came to stand in front of the television, reaching behind you and grabbing the remote before forcing his chin up with your other hand. His jaw rested on your curled fingers, vulnerable. His eyes looked burned at both ends, the wick of his iris without fire, or rebuttal.

You took a seat on his lap, wrapping your arms on his slumped shoulders. A beat, before he caved into you, pulling you into the crook of his hips. You molded into him, taking a moment to turn the television off, dowsing you both in a dark, somnolent ease.

You familiarized yourself with every version of this pose. In his lap, drowse eating at both of your guts, limbs pulling each other closer still. It wasn’t a planned routine- just comfortable. You’d heard the line ‘we were made for each other’ about a dozen times in different movies and books- and although you found it cliché- there was a truth to it.

Good love can be cliché. Done over and over because it feels right. Kenji- his arms and his heart- feel right to you and they always have.

(Again, he makes you a romantic).

“You were amazing today, baby.” You said into his ear. He huffed- but you took his grip on your thighs as encouragement.

You kissed his cheek, then his jaw, and with each purse of your lips you tried to make a point. “You are the best baseball player in the league,” you continued down to his neck, hands coming to rest on his collar bone, “one game doesn’t change that…”

You felt his throat rumble, and it took you a few kisses to realize he had spoken.

“Keep…going.”

Fuck.

It was embarrassing to be aroused when you’re supposed to be comforting someone, but God. The timbres of his voice, their effortless depth and coon, pleading you of all people to do more was enough to make you start riding his thigh.

You reminded yourself that tonight was about his pleasure, and your own would have to be on the back burner.

You slipped your hands under his shirt, cool flesh meeting his hot abdominal, twitching under your nails. You traced the shadows of his muscle, enjoying the mumble that shook his adams apple as you kissed under his jaw.

“You’re talented and everyone knows it,” down the dip between his collarbones, “you’ve carried the team and brought them together…” your hands made your way to his chest, where you could feel his heart beating under the grooves of your palm. Good. You tapped his shoulder from underneath his shirt, and he understood, immediately shedding the shirt and throwing it carelessly into the dark.

You continued down his stomach, sending occasionally glances up. His face was veiled in something rounder now- the earlier layers of woe and its harsh lines drawn by the furrow of his brow replaced by something a little more sanguine. It peaked from behind the whites of his eyes and glowed under the plush of his cheeks in a blooming pink.

You dragged your lips further down, navigating the narrow of his waist, “You’ve got a handsome face to match your wit,” you kissed the band of his sweats, before you curled the digits of your fingers over, peeling it back to reveal the near painful tent spring from the cotton of his boxers, “and…fuck your big…”

You swallowed, massaging the cusp of his cock, feeling as he curved his hips into your palm, a soft moan breaching the clench of his teeth. You looked up at him- beautiful in the light of his own rousing. His throat bobbled; words caught in his tonsils.

You didn’t need him to speak- you knew what they were.

You brought back to his boxers, cock slapping the underside of his stomach. He sucked a breath through his teeth above you- desperation in the discoloration of his bottom lip- bruised. The shroom cap was weeping your name in a pearl of pre-cum, which you massaged with your thumb. You slowly pumped his length in your hands, hand moving in slow, tight swells at the base of it.

You knew it well- you had felt it a dozen times over. The vein that crawled from its root on the right side- thick- spelling your name in morse. The deepened pink as it ran up to his tip, the glans warm in hot colors of desire. The velvet that patched its stiff underside was particularly memorized- molded in the walls of your cunt.

But there would always be that stutter in your breath- your body talking in haphazard beats- a need he fills to the brim. It wasn’t shock, it wasn’t admiration, but you settle for somewhere in between.

“You’re so strong- from your injury, to protecting the city,” if felt somewhat strange- authentic compliments paired with the pumping of his cock, the tip of his jaw and buck of his hips begged your fruition in low moans, “there is no other man like Kenji Sato…”

A gruff groan from the pit of his lungs made your own sex thrum with a familiar density, and you let a soft moan escape your own lips as you slipped them down his cock.

Hypoxia bloomed in the back of your throat- bright purple capturing oxygen. You let your maw clench and reel at the pressure- familiar but desperate for accommodation. Your breath came out in a single syllable against the base of him, nostrils flaring.

He moaned above you, the tremble of his ecstasy rolling down his shoulders and to the bridge of his cock, rattling your tonsils with an unflattering gag. His hands came to hold your hair, grip massaging the back of your scalp with a needy grip.

“Hah…shit…you’re too good to me…”

You bobbed your head in protest, tongue flattening to cup his front. Your fingers worked what your mouth couldn’t, fondling the sensitive bonds of his groin- slick in saliva. He let out a gruff growl, holding your head with a fatal grip- pushing you down to swallow more of him.

You held his thighs for balance you kneeled between them- tears pricking your eyes. You swear you feel him at the ends of your tongue as he rolled his hips into your mouth- hollowed cheeks to take the grit of him- avoiding grazing teeth.

You glanced up at him- met with the bend of his jaw- mouth open as he moaned your name like a mantra. It was so melodic- and for something so lewd it was sweet. Honied in the places that we were taught filthy- buried beneath the stickiness of arousal and sex was something warmer.

You sped up your pace- promising a song from him as you pushed your tongue to the roof of your mouth, tightening the plunge of your throat.

“Ohshit- fucking hell you feel so good baby…so good to me,” His ruts were becoming sloppy, breaking under the weight of his own overstimulation, “I’m gonna cum down that perfect mouth of yours…”

You loved him like this. Goo in your hands, the sharper edges of his jaw and his tongue softened when laid next to you. Saying your name like he’d forget it- hoping it brands into his flesh, maybe his bones. It brought your own weeping hole thrilling pleasure- the puff of your heart rapid.

Lost in rapture- the smaller moments and the forgotten words- somewhere in the craters of your bodies. You’d accepted it- becoming idyllic- eased into a life where love could mean so many things at once and all be right.

As in- the kiss goodnight is just as important as the blowjob after a loss.

You were made ugly- snot drippling down your lips in blunt weeps, tears wetting your lashes in asphyxiation. You were positive the round of your cheeks was rosed- glossed by the precum and spit that wetted your lips as you slipped up and down, tandem rhythm with his hips.

You could feel strands of your hair being ripped from the sensitivity of your scalp- his hands gripping hard enough it felt as though he’s trying to hold your skull. His moans were restless now, a wet and sickening chorus to the hymn of your nose hitting his stomach.

“Shit-shitshitshit oh fuck I’m cu-cummm uhmm…”

It painted the cave of your throat, the cap of your tongue, the roof of your mouth- ruthless. Filled your throat in hues of stress, lost to the compassion of your molars and the crest of your mouth. You could feel the excess ropes peel back the corners of your lips as it bubbled to meet his pelvis, which was still fucking your mouth in a noisy, orgasmic frenzy.

It slid from your fissure with a quiet pop, and you took his wrists, pulling them limply from your head as you stood, sitting back on his lap, softening cock resting behind your ass. You kissed his throat, feeling the shuddering breaths that fogged the air around you, catching his expression- knotted brows and tight nose- compressed in a vague expression of lust- and thanks.

You ran your fingers through his hair- kissing up to his ear, “I meant everything I said, earlier, y'know.”

You felt him nod shakily. “I know…sometimes I just like to hear you say it.”

You snorted- there he was. “Cocky bastard.”

He chucked, pulling you into his chest, smile soft against the indent of your shoulder. “Well, you had it down your throat.”

You pulled back, giving him his first real kiss of the night. Admittedly, it was to shut him up, but when he pulled you closer still, lips molding to yours in the way they always do, you both knew it was because you wanted to.

You pulled away, eyes opening to his face- lips pursed and eyes closed (adorably stupid, stupidly adorable- somewhere between the two) you laughed, pressing a kiss between his brows.

“Okay Mr. Romance let’s get you to bed.”

You began to slide off his waist before he pulled you back down, eyes open and revealing something much more earnest. The harsher edges of his face seemed to smooth over (rock eroded, calmed), and he leaned his head to your chin.

“Thank you.”

You sighed into his hair- deep down you wanted to say he didn’t need to thank you. But he had enough about him tonight.

“You’re welcome- my throat is going to be sore because of you.”

His head came up to meet yours, and you knew he was back when you saw his classic smirk pull at the corners of his lips. “Should I loosen it up again?”

You rolled your eyes, sliding off his waist before grabbing his hand and pulling him up. You wrapped your arms up to base of his shoulder blades and he returned the embrace, body molding to the shape of your front.

The sensitive part of you wanted to stay like this forever- pushing into him- held- safe. If you closed your eyes, you could, and somewhere in your forever you heard,

“I love you.”

[chemblrish]

Chemistry video recs!!

Okay so here's a new ~project~ of mine (we'll see how long I can stick to it whoops): every once in a while I want to make a compilation of cool chemistry videos. I also want to keep it strictly chemistry-related (as much as that's possible... and I don't promise to be totally objective lol*). I watch a lot of science videos in general, but the way I see it, chemistry just doesn't get enough hype. Physics and biology can fend for themselves, they're very popular. Chemistry is notoriously underappreciated and overlooked, and it makes me sad.

So! Here are some great chemistry videos I've watched recently.

Under 15 minutes:

How does evaporation REALLY work?

Making Singlet Oxygen

Technetium chemistry - synthesis of Lanthanide Pertechnetates - nuclear chemistry

Making table salt using sodium metal and chlorine gas

Making Chloroform

White Phosphorus - Explosions&Fire

Making fuming nitric acid

The End of Haber Bosch

NCl3: a terrifying yellow abomination

Making Prussian Blue

The experiment that revealed the atomic world: Brownian Motion

Chirality is Just Turtles All the Way Down

Over 15 minutes:

Chemist Breaks Down 22 Chemistry Scenes From Movies & TV

Hydrogen Peroxide: going all the way

Does cyanide actually smell like almonds?

Cosmic Chemistry with Kate the Chemist & Neil deGrasse Tyson

The Hidden Chemistry of Everything with Neil deGrasse Tyson and Kate the Chemist

How DO Molecules Store Energy?

applied quantum mechanics

A Chemist Explains the ENTIRE History of Atomic Theory (in 48 Minutes)

*for example, I consider some of thermodynamics to be chemistry-related, as well as some aspects of quantum mechanics. When I say I don't promise to objective, I mean I'll make rather liberal decisions on the intersection of sciences. And you can't stop me.

[bonefall]

what poison/s were used in riverstar's heir at moth's celebration and when bright and flowerstar ate together? suggestion (if you hadn't decided yet): Monkshood/Aconite/Wolfsbane (Aconitum napellus) its a VERY poisonous plant native to the uk and europe, lethal with both ingestion and body contact and has historical use in killing and murder. symptoms appear quickly and death often comes in only a few hours; its a shame it wasn't used in canon lmao

Oh symptoms don't just appear quickly-- Aconite's name is said to be ancient Greek for "Without Dust." That refers to how aconite kills SO quickly that you will not even kick up dust in your death struggle. Death coming in a few hours is from the minimum deadly dosage, any good assassin worth their salt would use more (and take care to mask its bitter taste, it's not a subtle flavor like cyanide is.)

Forget "deathberries." Yew is nothing next to aconite.

Yew's deadly compound, taxine, acts by stopping your heart. Yawn. Aconite targets your heart, liver, kidneys, AND brain all at the same time. It's so potent that handling young roots will make your hands go numb. Only 2 miligrams of the deadly compound, aconitine, is a fatal dose in a human being; a single grain of rice weighs 20 miligrams.

Anon, my friend, you undersold aconite. It's not just a very poisonous plant in Europe, aconitine is top 5 deadliest poisons period. Members of the aconite family are widespread through the northern hemisphere-- indigenous Alaskan people have used it to hunt whales for tens of thousands of years. Its toxic properties break down within 24 hours, leaving the meat completely safe to eat.

So naturally, suggestion accepted. This is going to be SICK.

Especially since no one will be able to tell what happened. It looks like every major poison because it is. You might assume it was some kind of toxic cocktail from the symptoms. Convulsions, rapid heartrate, vomiting, numbness. It looks like yew, nightshade, and bryony all at once.

It'll be very easy for Bright Whisker to survive this and shake off suspicion simply by poisoning herself with a small amount of something else. If I go with Maple Whisker being a sibling instead of a cousin, I could have her simply join their meal a little late and realize that her mouth feels numb, just as everyone else enters convulsions, so she spits it out.

(Autism win! Avoided a poisoning because texture bad! Maybe she was waiting for the food to cool down too lmao)

And LASTLY... Aconite is Wolf's Bane. I think this is a really cool place to see the earliest incarnation of the Wolf Motif that will later show up in Bluestar's family. It tickles my brain a bit to think of Flowerstar somehow having the "hood" shape of the flower, and then she loses her first life in her gambit to poison the wolf among sheep.

I also had a stroke of inspiration and had an idea for one of the BB!DOTC cats, too. Dappled Pelt gets massively neglected in canon, imo, and I could set up the wolf thing even earlier. African Wild Dog time (painted wolf.)

[alt-wannabe]

MCSR As Chemical Compounds

idk either man. expect very little actual explanation and a lot of chemical yapping from a very big nerd

Silverr as Silver Nitrate:

AgNO3

the above is the crystal structure

appearance is just a white crystal kinda like sugar

it took everything in me to not just make silverr plain Ag

silver nitrate is the most common precursor for all other important silver salts

also an extremely important compound in the development of photography! (and iirc silverr is a film major)

Feinberg as Ozone:

O3

produced during lightning strikes

pale blue at high ppm

only leaves gas state at cryogenic temperatures

naturally occurring in the stratosphere and absorbs UV rays from the sun

Fruit as Nickel(II) Chloride Hexahydrate:

NiCl2•6H2O

green

the non-hydrate form is a sort of olive-y yellow color

used to absorb ammonia in gas masks

Raddles as Potassium Permanganate:

KMnO4

Sometimes referred to as Purple Potion Powder

goes CRAZY purple when dissolved and is lowkey my favorite chemical

very strong oxidizing agent

one time i stained my hand purple through my glove with this shit idk how it happened

if made in specific solvents can look extremely similar to dragon's breath in minecraft imo

K4 as Octathio[8]circulene:

C16S8

also referred to as Sulflower (like sulfur and sunflower haha get it)

planar which is fairly uncommon for molecules of this size

can be stacked together to make sheets of sulflowers

Cube as Cubane:

C8H8

yeah this is self-explanatory

what is interesting though is that ring strain in 4 membered rings/squares is really high, so cubane existing is a bit of a chemical anomaly

i havent read into it enough to know for sure but i suspect that ring strain is why cubane is a precursor to a HELLA STRONG explosive compound

Reignex as PPTA:

Poly-p-paraphenylene terephthalamide

[-CO-C6H4-CO-NH-C6H4-NH-]n

the name is complicated as shit but this is just kevlar!

aka bulletproof vest material

looks fluffy when not woven completely together

aligning of polymer chains w hydrogen bonds creates EXTREMELY high tensile strength

Mime as Phenylmagnesium Bromide:

C6H5MgBr

a common grignard reagent aka a compound that can be used in a grignard reaction, an extremely important reaction in organic synthesis as it creates new C-C bonds

another fun fact about grignard reagents is that if water is added to them- or even if they're handled in particularly moist air- they fucking explode

extremely strong nucleophile and base

Poundcake as Xenon Hexafluoride:

XeF6

Noble gases don't react unless you REALLY make them

so a compound containing xenon is really interesting

colorless as a solid but sublimes (aka skips straight from solid to gas) into a bright yellow gas

fun fact a lot of instances where typical chemistry rules are broken (noble gases not reacting, octet rule in general, etc) involve fluorine to the point ive heard it referred to as a "batshit electron thief"

Fulham as Iron Hexacyanidoferrate:

C18Fe7N18

also known as prussian blue

extremely common pigment in paints and the first modern synthetic pigment

used extensively in The Great Wave

another one of my favorite molecules bc im biased and like inorganic chem aka things that contain metals

used as an antidote for heavy metal poisoning which is interesting bc it contains cyanide ligands!

Couriway as Bullvalene:

C10H10

in a state of constant resonance

aka the double bonds are CONSTANTLY shifting and reforming bullvalene into... itself but moved around a little

the bonds fluctuate so rapidly that in nmr analysis each carbon and hydrogen in the entire molecule is read as equivalent (for my non-chem people that's very uncommon and very cool)

formed through photolysis (aka using light/photons to fuel a reaction)

[incorrectbatfam]

What's in Alfie's spice cabinet? Wrong answers only

Pure organic sea salt

Peruvian puff peppers

Tea leaves

Protein powder

Edible glitter

Cinnamon sugar

Synonym sugar

Lazarus water

Jason's foul mouth soap bar

Flour

Kryptonite dust

Jokerized seasoning

Everyone's medications

Ramen soup packets

Purple food coloring

Vegan meat flavoring

Nth metal shavings

Cyanide

Beans

[museofthepyre]

MAJOR CHNT FILE 33/34 SPOILERS. LIKE MAJOR MAJOR.

Sydney’s mode of death has been wracking my brain lately. So I’m here to ramble off my thoughts. I think the biggest clue is this line from Elijah.

“Died tenderly on the clean sheets it was gifted”… I was a fan of the drowning theory, but this is pretty solid evidence against it. Drowning is messy, whatever Jedidiah did was discrete and clean— also, possibly in some sort of hospital bed? Cabin… bed? Gifted clean sheets… whatever that means. Anyways drowning or not, the respiratory distress/ hypoxia themes are HUGE and INCREDIBLY RE-OCCURRENT so I cannot overlook them. The theory that Jedidiah may have just pulled the plug is also enticing, but I’ts not as directly linked to those specific “can’t breathe” themes… so.

There is a certain discrete and rapidly lethal poison which causes tissue hypoxia... and that is Cyanide. I found these tidbits interesting.

Sounds kinda similar to a certain someone’s current “mystery condition”. Anyways

Most important things here: Cyanide poisoning presents as respiratory distress/ hypoxia/ “trouble breathing”. longer exposures can result in a coma, long-term neurological issues, and obviously death. Exposure can be through ingestion, inhalation, or dermal routes. No mess. It’s often used in murders/ su!cides for these reasons.

So. That is! Certainly something! Just a theory, but very interesting! I also find it funny that most people think of apple seeds when they think of cyanide. Boy oh boy, I sure hope there isn’t anything dangerous inside this here apple. Like a teensy bit of cyanide… or a centipede.

To the drowning theory’s credit. Hypoxia, again. Themes of not being able to breathe. Sydney’s first described dream with Adam being set under water. Jedidiah throwing the necromancy’d rabbit into the lake after disassembling it. Sydney’s hydrophobia (though that may stem back to childhood). Jedidiah being averse to this years lake day all of a sudden (which is noted as uncharacteristic). Probably some other things that I’m forgetting… but that “died tenderly on the clean sheets it was gifted” line is pretty hard to refute.

Also also I think regardless of where Sydney DIED, he was RESURRECTED on the camp grounds. I could speculate on how he got to the campgrounds in the first place… but I’m almost wondering if… so yknow how when treatments are failing and it looks like a patient is going to die, they’re given the option to a) stay in hospital and keep going with the treatment, despite the risk of dying there… or b) embrace fate and spend their remaining days comfortable, at home and with loved ones? Sydney had fond memories of the camp. Sydney didn’t have a home to return to (besides maybe Lucille’s house but I doubt he’d choose that). So I wonder if, in that scenario, he would’ve chosen the camp. If he’d been gifted a room to stay in for however long (they thought) he had left. Which would be why Elijah knew where to go interrogate Lucille later on… if he’d followed them there initially. This bit is entirely speculation btw, major guess. The timelines are hard to string together atp so take this with a grain of salt.

This is driving me to madness

[remus-poopin]

What are your top HP fics based on writing? Like things that are just beautiful to read

Wow I think I’m answering this 3 months late sorry aghh. Again, I don’t read as many fics as I would like to, but I’ve been changing that recently and these are 4 that have really stood out to me in terms of writing!

Savour the Moment by - @evesaintyves

This fic made me both sad and hungry

This is a truly beautiful portrait of Molly and her relationship with Ginny. I really love how effortlessly this weaves in the food and cooking imagery with the emotions of the characters. The descriptions are so detailed and vivid that you can practically taste the cakes and pies off of the words alone.

Grief is hanging over this fic heavy, grief from Molly with her brothers and grief yet to come from Ginny. These two very different women, who also feel things very differently, have an extremely engaging back and forth of attempted connections. Both of them want it but aren’t able to easily get there with each other, and that struggle was very compelling to me.

Really such a great fic, I always find myself coming back to it

Favorite quotes:

“Molly has always tasted her memories. Perhaps that's why she's always been a bit thick round the middle: food relishes the good times, is the physical stuff of love. Ever since she was a little girl: plum pudding was Christmas and summers were cherry ice cream and chocolate flake. The time she broke her ankle jumping down from a tree, to this day, is the chalk flavor of Skele-Gro and a limp cucumber sandwich from the St Mungo's cafeteria. Her mother is sweet milky tea and her father is cottage pie with mushrooms, his favourite, flavoured with the smoke of his pipe in the air.”

“She learned to cook at her own mother's elbow and she is full of warm, creamy, ginger-flavoured memories of it. But Ginny's never liked being in the kitchen with her mum. She wants to be out with the boys, flying on broomsticks, getting jostled and scraped and braying coarse laughter through a mouthful of blood. That's why, when she thinks about Ginny, it's not the cream tea and swiss roll flavours she expected when she learned she was finally having a girl. It's rain-drenched popcorn at the Quidditch match and the salt of a kiss on Ginny's sweaty, gritty forehead.”

Sparkling Cyanide - @saintsenara

The house elf plot-line in the hp books leaves MUCH to be desired when it comes to fully and unequivocally condemning slavery. Due to this, you might find that me and my black ass are, shockingly, not its biggest fans.

However this fic is a brilliant look into elves’ oppression and enslavement AND their culture and agency.

This fic focuses on the death of Hepzibah Smith and the conditions surrounding and leading up to it. Specifically the subjugation of Elves and how that system encourages the idea of them as docile, unintelligent, and submissive (And how this perception can be wielded against the wizards that enslave them).

What I find so striking about this fic is how language is centered as a tool to illustrate the functions of colonial mindsets. I think this does a fantastic job at subverting the trope of “improper English = stupidity” that HP uses so frequently.

This was an extremely satisfying and moving read!

Favorite quotes:

“Come quickly and stop faffing,’ Mes Ebhsebbá says to Eokhí. She is clicking her fingers at Eokhí, like there is magic in her fingers. There is magic in Eokhí’s fingers. She is able to make the whole house fall to the ground if she is wanting to.”

“They is not knowing that we is knowing how to take the lives we is wanting from them. And that is why they is not thinking about how many weapons they is putting in kitchens.”

The Seven names of Mrs Zabini - @artemisia-black

And if I said that she did nothing wrong then what?

I’ve mentioned this fic several times before but I don’t think I’ll ever be over it. The way this is written is actually masterful; the attention to details, the poetic language, the characterization. I’m going to scream.

There is just something about this fic that entrances me. This is actually my favorite genre of story, the “good for her!” category, and whenever I read/watch these I go temporarily insane.

Because this is in first person we’re really getting into Mrs. Zabini’s mindset and the traumas that inform it, and this is extremely effective/convincing in making you stay on her side even while she is committing cold blooded murder.

Another thing I love about this is how the actual murders are so casually placed in the story, in comparison with how rich the rest of the imagery that Mrs. Zabini is describing. It’s almost like an afterthought. It makes her sound so much colder and more calculating than if there was a long depiction of each individual killing, so I thought that was a really brilliant writing choice.

If you love Gone Girl definitely give this a read!

Favorite quotes:

“There is a reason that Venus herself emerges from her half shell as a fully formed woman, blinking naively into existence. This is what men actually desire, a goddess who knows nothing of the world and so is more easily amused by the trinkets he throws at her. A divine being who is blissfully unaware of her own divinity. A being who had no thought but him and who cannot function outside of him.”

“I had gone to my wedding bed expecting a transformative experience where his penis would alchemise me from a girl into a woman. An expectation I had imbibed from a society that exalts the wonder of the male member. Instead, as I lay there shivering with his rotten seed running down my leg, I felt used and disgusted at the man I had been condemned to spend the rest of my life servicing”

“And as I rattled around our isolated country house, I believed him. Hiding myself from mirrors, starving my body in order to obtain the concave stomach and taut thighs that he so desired. But when I corrected one perceived flaw, he would find another. Peppering his insults with crumbs of tenderness that lured and trapped me in reality of his making.”

The Secret in the Heart of the Forest by @myrskytuuli

This one has it all: accidental cannibalism, ancient rituals, Snape sass, feral Lily, elf politics, generational trauma, fairy induced psychosis, and most importantly the Marauders + Sev and Lily + Regulus and Narcissa all teamed up. Oh yeah I’m eating this up

This one is longer than the others so I’m really going to try to make this as brief as I can but this fic is actually insane because it’s everything I’ve ever wanted in a hp fic and I think I could talk about it forever.

I was genuinely so giddy reading this. There were so many twists and turns and it remained gripping the whole time. This is a psychedelic fever dream, introspective character study, horror adventure and a beautiful tale of friendship all wrapped in one. I absolutely loved everyone’s characterization here, they’re all so beautifully flawed and you can really understand where they are coming from on a personal level but also on a sociological level, I think the author did a MASTERFUL job at this.

The worldbuilding is INSANELY good (the interlude chapters revolving around each of their mothers made me cry repeatedly. And Elieens chapter is just incredible, I have no words). And the pacing is just excellent, I never felt like any of the growth was forced or unearned.

This storytelling is also amazing, whenever there was a theme or reference brought up before in the story that got tied back in again, my mouth would physically drop because it was so seamless yet so meaningful and impactful.

(Sorry but I just need to talk about characterization for a brief minute because this has some of my favorite characterizations that I’ve ever read of some of these characters:

This is my absolute favorite Lily. Like ever. She feels so real here with her anger and flaws and quirks. She is neither villainized nor deified but a full fleshed out character. I just love her!

This is also my favorite James! James is usually a tough character for me to stay engaged with but this fic does an excellent job at balancing his strengths and flaws while keeping him compelling.

This Snape is PERFECT!!! I actually don’t think I can describe how much I love this depiction, all I can say is if you’re a Snape lover who enjoys him being a lil shit you should read this.

Also Peter is just incredible here, too often is he forgotten but this fic really does him justice.

Ok I’ll stop but just know that I could go on and on about all of these characters)

And seeing these characters who would normally hate each other come together to build meaningful bonds while they grow with their own issues is actually cathartic.

If you are a Marauder and Snape fan this is required reading, I really can’t recommend this enough!

Favorite quotes (there were way too many omg):

“Sirius had been angry for a long time now. Sometimes Sirius wondered if he had been born angry, if his first cry had never truly ended”

“Remus had said nothing after that. He was becoming a champion of saying nothing.”

“‘I’m sorry,’ he said.

‘I won’t forgive what you did to me.’ Severus said back with conviction.

‘Good.’ Sirius said with equal conviction.”

“At this point, Lily had arrived like the loyal shadow she tended to be around Snape, spitting out an angry ‘What the fuck?’”

“Sometimes he burned with the need to yank himself free of Lily and the blade of love hanging between them. To hurt her when she stepped over Severus' abused body like an avenging angel that looked down at him and made him look small, dirty, used and worthless. A worm crawling in the mud.”

Ok that’s all for now! I definitely think you should give all these a read!!

[strangestcase]

In the original novella, we only "see" three characters die. One is Hastie Lanyon, whose death isn't gruesome and startling like Carew's, but that meets an arguably violent end.

While Carew draws the ire of Hyde through simply being at the wrong place at the wrong time, being cordial to the wrong person, being, Lanyon rather doesn't. Instead, it is his act of loyalty towards Jekyll, the man he hasn't talked to in a decade and calls him a pedant when he isn't listening, what kills him. Once again good deeds are punished with death. The difference, though, doesn't just reside in the fact that Hyde never once needs to put a finger on Lanyon to kill him, but the fact that it is a deeply personal loss- on both sides.

Jekyll-as-Hyde correctly assesses that Lanyon will help a friend in need. He himself says that Lanyon would gladly sacrifice his right arm to save him in body and mind, and with those words he convinces him to come to the rescue via bringing Hyde the serum's ingredients from the cabinet, now forbidden to him. And Lanyon is a good man. He's sensible enough to bring a gun with himself, he's kind enough to help Jekyll even though he believes he's finally lost it -and he's not entirely wrong-, and he's open-minded enough to not only chalk up his supernatural hatred of Hyde to a silly personal bias rather than dismiss him as "deformed", but to also fight against it and be nice to him.

No, Lanyon doesn't meet his violent end through physical violence. All he does is fall into Hyde's trap and give in to curiosity. And that's how, in his narration, Chapter 9, we learn what really killed him in Chapter 6, weeks after the events transpired. His mysterious "disease", the thing eating up at him, is the revelation. One of his closest friends -despite it all- has placed his trust upon him, and his reward is to see him at his pettiest, his cruelest, his worst. To learn that his friend was a monster, all along. No. That he turned into one, on his own volition. The choice was his. And now that he's realized it was a dark path to walk, he can't un-walk it. He can't stop, even if he wanted to, cursing himself with a monstrousness that fights back at any attempt at a fix and yet needs to be fixed to save its skin.

There is no "normal" to recover. Jekyll had always carried with him the elements of his destruction- his arrogance and his bile. The revelation that Hyde never really existed destroys Lanyon's static and material worldview, smashing the orderly world he lives in to bits. The revelation that Hyde was created for a specific purpose, and what it was, destroys Lanyon's view of Jekyll as an eccentric but harmless man, a good person with misguided opinions and fanciful theories.

Does Jekyll ever learn of Lanyon's death? Does Utterson ever bring it up behind the scenes, out of the third-person narrator's scope? Will he ever know that his last crime was killing the man that saved his life?

Well... Ironically, Lanyon didn't really save Jekyll's life. He only extended it for a couple of months, prevented Hyde from being arrested and tried and executed for God knows how many crimes of indeterminate nature. After all, if his criminal record killed him of shock, or at least poured salt into the wound, it had to be gruesome. Thanks to Lanyon's intervention Hyde can return to the house as Jekyll and attempt at resuming a normal life, without success. Soon enough he transforms again, and runs out of salts, and is found dead on the floor with the vial he just emptied of cyanide still in his cold hand.

How do we define violence in a world in which body and mind are one? In the world of Jekyll and Hyde, thoughts and ideas are physical, real, tangible. Hyde is, ultimately, a concept, the sketch of a person disguising a fractured mind disguising a sad mad genius that desires to not desire. We can consider Lanyon one of Hyde's victims, but can we call Lanyon's death violent? I would say so. Like Carew, all he ever did, at least within the constraints of the story -a snapshot of a disjointed Gothic world-, was being kind to someone who didn't deserve it.

At the beginning of this post, I said there were three on-page deaths, three deaths we got to "see" in Stevenson's novella. The third death would be Jekyll's. And it is violent, as well- first his original identity dies, unable to be present, made physical, made real, by want of not being able to manifest itself, or rather, by want of not being able to not manifest Hyde's. In a sense, he's run out of opportunities to be "good". If Jekyll can no longer be Jekyll-as-Jekyll, and only has Jekyll-as-Hyde left, Jekyll no longer exists. As he puts it, he's forced to resume Hyde's personality for the last time- to put on a costume that has turned into himself. Hyde never existed as a person, and in the last eight days of his life he has to be, because Hyde is all he's got left of a person.

It's impossible to not think of a suicide, even a suicide by poison, as violent. But Jekyll's death is violent not just because he eventually goes through with his "promise" of sorts that he'll have to die to rid the world of Hyde (and so we have Hyde killing himself if only to not end up in the gallows, fullfilling his ultimate desire, because that's what he, as a concept, was designed to do). It is also violent because by the time he physically dies, he's long gone. He's committed enough violence against himself already, destroying his belongings and thinking of himself as either his oppressive father or his idiot son, depending on what body he's been thrown into at the time.

The horror of Jekyll and Hyde is the horror of the perversion of the intimate, on all levels. Your best friend is not who he claimed to be. Your body as an extension of yourself isn't to be trusted. Helping others gets you killed. Edward Hyde pollutes everything he touches- breaks into a homicidal rage at someone being polite at him, accidentally curses his savior with the decay of the soul, self harms in the most twisted way possible and dies two times, brings the worst in all those that look at him, brings terror into your house, ruins the night, and breaks the peace.

It is only logical that something -someone?- that ruins everything to its very core comes from within, and is ultimately the cause for three very twisted, and violent, forms of death.

[surely-galena]

idk how often lead paint are used (if at all)

but for total shits and giggles, in the crackiest way possible, i imagine marius using lead paint, sometimes accidentally drinking the paint water

and then someone tries to assassinate him with poison and it doesn't do shit because as it turns out, the poison isn't as strong as lead and marius sort of built a tolerance to lead poisoning on accident.

cue assassin freaking the fuck out because the poison had no effect

idk where that came from

Hi Rose!! :D

I did some surface level research for this ask because I thought that lead paint wasn't used any longer, but that's actually a myth... just not in the way I thought it was. When I think of lead paint, my mind goes to historical artists who poisoned themselves through their paintings, but the articles I skimmed were all about lead paint used for industrial/homeowner purposes. There is, however, Lead White paint for artists, but this is pretty expensive because it isn't produced as much and there are safer alternatives for artists to use, too. Money isn't a problem for Marius, so let's say he ends up using the fancy lead white oil paint for his art.

I read through this transcript of an episode from This Podcast Will Kill You on lead poisoning (tw for discussions around child experimentation) and essentially, adults are at lower risk than children because they don't absorb as much lead into their system. Also, absorbing lead through inhaling it is much worse than ingesting it because it gets into your system through your lungs. So even if drinking lead paint water sounds bad (and likely is), it would probably be much worse if Marius had been exposed to lead dust. Both are still bad though!

Plus, since lead has a sugary taste, Marius would probably be able to identify that he was drinking paint water on his first sip (and hopefully spit it out). If he doesn't... then Marius what are you doing.

Now I couldn't find a good source on this, but according to this Wikipedia article on Mithridatism (building up an immunity to poison), it is not possible to build up a tolerance to heavy metals (e.g. lead). This makes sense to me, but take it with a grain of salt since I didn't find anything to back this up.

Also, in the scenario with the assassin, let's say that Marius did somehow have a tolerance to lead poisoning. The chances of the assassin using lead would be a lot lower compared to something fast and lethal (belladonna and cyanide immediately come to mind but you may have to fact check that). So Marius would have an immunity to a different kind of substance and would still end up getting poisoned.

But say that nothing happens to Marius, like you said, and the assassin starts freaking out (as they should). Then this implies that Marius has either knowingly or unknowingly been building up a tolerance to a different kind of poison than lead (which means he's been going through symptoms of mild poisoning over and over again), and not only that, he's been continuously poisoning himself to keep up that tolerance.

Who's responsible for that?? Vyn and Luke, in some attempt to save their friend before he gets assassinated in the future? Giann von Hagen, bragging about his tolerance to X poison to Marius and thus putting ideas into younger Marius' head? Payton, who somehow predicted what kind of poison future assassins would use???

I hope I didn't lose you with all that rambling, haha. It's still a great scenario even if I didn't focus on the comedy/crack part as much, thank you for the ask!!

[raivos-world]

I'm Raivo and from Estonia🇪🇪 (he/him)

Age: 18

Fav colors: orange, green, black, brown

Fav things: Winter, sweet tea, animals, Halloween/Xmas, pop/rock/emo music, salad, meat and veggies

I live on a farm in the country but I live near the city

Hobbies: drawing, writing, collecting junk, walking while listening to music, obsessively organizing my books, song playlists + names by spellings, origins and meanings etc)

I'm neurodivergent

Things I hate: bugs, spicy food, socks, the smell of cornbread, literally any carbonated drink, too much salt or pepper on food, life

I have: Reddit

My irl pal: @cyanide-sodapop

[missmisandrytabletalk]

SALTY RAPIST PIE COOKBOOK:

first glaze the skin of rapists with the battery acid, dip them in cyanide solution and let em marinate for a good 30 minutes. now take em out of the bowl and drill holes in their pps and external body parts, apply salt inside those holes, let it sit for a few minutes. preheat the cremation furnace to 565 °F and carefully lay them inside. viola! your salty rapist pie is ready to serve.