#fuck you Avogadro constant

[the-heaminator]

I DONT LIKE THIS

[ann-decart]

ok its hyperrogue infodump time because boy do i have a story to tell

so, hyperrogue as a game is incredibly open-ended. there really isn’t a set goal for ANYTHING -- it’s really an open-world, choose-your-own-adventure game with over 60 different biomes each with their own mechanics and quirks. however, it does have a few major quests that are kept track of by the game.

one of these quests is the Yendor quest, which involves collecting an Orb of Yendor, which needs to be unlocked with its Key before it can be collected. you do need to do some work to make these things even spawn in the first place, but that’s beside the point. once you touch an Orb of Yendor, a beacon will activate telling you which direction the key is and how far away from your current location it is. it looks something like this:

your goal during the Yendor quest is to go get the key and fetch it back to its orb, at which point it will be consumed, you will gain the Orb of Yendor (and a hearty helping of various orb powers, along with the orb itself worth 50 points), and formally win the game (with your turncount and real time recorded on leaderboards and the like). and the key is a mere 100 tiles away! how hard could it be?

the answer is: incredibly fucking hard.

hyperrogue’s whole thing is that the world is based on hyperbolic geometry, and in hyperbolic geometry, big things grow exponentially. the number of cells at distance 100 from you would have been around 600 in a flat, euclidean hexagonal grid, but here it’s to the tune of 700 sextillion (the same order of magnitude as avogadro’s constant)! if you don’t know EXACTLY what you’re doing and retrace your EXACT steps (such as by dropping a breadcrumb trail on the way there), the slightest deviation from your path will almost certainly lead you hopelessly astray -- you have no hope whatsoever of getting back to where you came.

or do you?

see, the thing about hyperrogue is that its many lands tell the story of its geometry in many different ways. and this could not be more true for gravity lands like Ivory Tower.

the mechanic introduced by this land is artificial, magical gravity, which makes objects and non-flying monsters (and also you) unable to move upward (which, in Ivory Tower’s case, means away from the Great Wall). tiles within the land are colored in a way that reflects this - the alternating color “bands” in the screenshot above are horizontal from the viewpoint of the gravity mechanic.

and because this is hyperbolic geometry, things grow exponentially as you go higher and higher up. the numbers work out so that, for every two tiles in elevation, the number of tiles approximately triples. this means that, once you’re a few dozen tiles up the Ivory Tower, the horizontal movements you make barely have any effect on your movement left or right relative to your entry point back at the bottom. and usually, you’ll come back exactly the way you came.

another gravity land is Yendorian Forest, whose gravity works the same way as in Ivory Tower, except on the tree trunks where movement is unrestricted (except birds can’t fly through them):

just like elsewhere in the world, under the right conditions, Orbs of Yendor can spawn here. and the key will be generated further into the Yendorian Forest. and you may think, hey, since descending in a gravity land takes you back where you came, doesn’t that mean getting your Yendor here is basically trivial? and you’d be right to think that... if The DevTeam didn’t Think Of Everything.

when you travel to the key in YF, you will at first see the beacon take you up the tree trunk, perhaps taking different turns at the branching points sometimes, but still a very easy path to follow back.

and then at some point you’ll see the beacon point directly upward, out of the canopy. which, if you are unprepared, it will be very hard to continue your journey to the key from here.

and about 20 more tiles up, high in the Yendorian Forest sky...

there will be the key, sitting atop a single-block platform placed there with the sole purpose of ensuring the key won’t just fall to the canopy.

this sort of thing happens in Ivory Tower too, in which the key is placed on a platform unreachable by normal climbing, but it’s easier to pass that off as natural terrain generation there. here, however, it is a special exception made specifically to ensure the quest never becomes trivial. and i think that’s both beautiful and kind of funny. one of the many things that gives hyperrogue this je ne sais quoi that makes it so addictive.

[joeyglowy]

Bad Study Habits ft. Miya Twins

In which the Miya Twins learn not to waste your time when they are the ones that asked for help. That, and that their necks are surprisingly quite sensitive. 

(Call it a commemoration for Miya Osamu finally having his character designs introduced, even if it’s the fucking laziest but most beautiful thing I’ve seen all week)

Miya Atsumu x Reader, 1500+ words Miya Osamu x Reader, 1700+ words

(I promise, I love them, almost equally)

Miya Atsumu

“Why do I need ta know Avocado’s number? Unless he’s down to help a brother getting blue balled by his own girlfriend, tell him I’m not interested.”

“It’s Avogadro’s number and for once in your life can you not think with your dick? We’re not here to have sex; I’m here to make you pass your chemistry test so you don’t get another detention for slacking off in class!”

For the past eighteen minutes, you had been using your middle and index finger to rub circles into your temple, a vain attempt to soothe the hammering headache that jabbed your eyelids each time Atsumu opened his mouth.

When your boyfriend had come to your door, ‘begging’ you to help him with chemistry, you found it pleasantly endearing. For all the faults to which Miya Atsumu had—for which there were many—he had unfortunately perfected the art of looking just sheepish enough that it became adorable while still bristling his feathers like a proud peacock that just made you want to pull his chubby cheeks. He was the naughty puppy that still had his ravenous canines punctured in your favourite lita boots with his tail tucked between his legs. He was that one bad kid in every class who fooled around but all the female teachers doted on him anyways because he was charismatic in that childishly infuriating way that made them lower their standards when he finally put in the effort.

Miya Atsumu, put bluntly, is a godforsaken brat.

“[Name]-chan! My chem teacher’s threatenin’ me! He said if I fail one more quiz I’ll have to sit through at least three detentions just, doin’ I don’t know, symbiosis! You gotta help me; you’re my girlfriend, aren’tcha?”

Yet, you somehow fell for this idiot anyway.

Enamoured with his honey-lemon eyes, you decided not to tell him that what you were doing was in fact stoichiometry and symbiosis is actually a biology term. But with the way he had grabbed your shoulders, for an inexperienced lover like yourself, it was more than enough to trigger a visceral reaction that caused some internal organ to clog your throat. His subtle guilt-trip did not go unnoticed but with your brain short-circuiting, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Instead, you had dumbly nodded, cursing your inability to deal with intimacy and members of the opposite sex as you allowed him to barge into your home.

Since he was always practicing, you thought it would be a chance to do something that couples do. Using your infinite knowledge collated from various fanfictions and shoujo manga online, you had constructed a seemingly infallible plan to make the most of your time with Atsumu. It involved having every excuse to stare at him without being teased for it and if anything, you would be in the rare position of the teaser, playfully pointing out his mistakes to which he’d probably pout and whine about before undoubtedly, once you were done, he’d demand a reward. Enter obligatory make out sesh. Which of course, was more than welcome in your book. You were a simple girl and he had cultivated excellently curved muscles from his years of volleyball, sue your transparency.

There was just one chink in your perfectly polished armoured plan.

Atsumu was a brat above all else. A horny one.

Tutoring him was like trying to make caramel for the first time.

At first, you think it’s going well. You’re simmering the white sugar, careful and attentive, determined to make it a success. Yet, as the browning starts to come in from the edges, a funny aroma that was not the scent of sweetness but one of something being grossly burned beyond recovery did you realise just how taxing the job was. Before you knew it, it was like having your kitchen on fire, the ignition source being the abomination that is Miya Atsumu.

As Osamu would say, “His mental age regresses by five years when he’s playing. . . but it plummets by ten when he’s, god forbid it, studyin’.”

If he wasn’t whining, he was trying to stroke your legs with his spider fingers under the kotatsu, creeping up your thigh only to be smacked away by your own hand to which he’d just go back to loudly whining. He had the attention span of a five year old and the attitude of a twelvie that equalled a near migraine for you. Least to say, you were far too annoyed to be turned on now so you had abruptly gotten up in a fit of annoyance, told him you were going to drink some water and left him in the living room.

You sighed, the water only granted a moment’s worth of reprieve as you headed back to the living room to see his honey coloured mop of hair from behind. Your eye twitched when you looked from behind to see him doodling an avant-garde penis on the page. Lovely.

He still hadn’t noticed you peering over his shoulder so you took the chance to admire the back of his head, watching how his hairline faded out from beneath his undercut, the roots of his old hair still left their stain. You wondered if his neck down ever got cold, with the constant exposure and all. The longer you stared, the more you felt your stomach lurch, toying with a lingering thought that just might get you what you wanted after all.

In a swift movement, with your lips gently planted on the supple flesh, beneath his hairline, you caressed the skin tenderly. Your lips quirked upward to hear a squeak from your boyfriend who had shuddered violently, his shoulders shaking as his penis drawing gained an unexpected gradient slope, his pen streaking in a straight line across the page. You chuckled into his neck; nipping at it playfully as your hot breath caused the hairs on his neck to stand up. Pleased with the pinkish hue that spread across the skin like paint, you pulled away as Atsumu snapped his head towards you, moon eyed.

Although you may have burnt the caramel, it looks like you’ve found some hidden strawberries to snack on instead.

You watched the way his pretty blush flourished to his cheeks while he looked visibly affronted by your sneak attack. “Wh-what do ya think yer doin’!?” he spluttered on the spot, his hand flying to his neck as if you had just bitten into it. You wanted to lick your lips at the thought before you narrowed your eyes sternly, trying not to let a wolfish grin slip through the cracks.

“I don’t know about you but personally, I despise wasting time, don’t you ‘Tsumu?”

You drummed your fingers on the kotatsu’s surface, slow and pronounced. His golden eyes zeroed onto them in anticipation. You licked your lips. All these food metaphors made you realise just how starved you are. Atsumu being someone who had always been observant, seemed to pick up on your hunger as well, his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down, as he glanced up at you from under his lashes, anxious. You turned back to the paper, almost nonchalant, as if you weren’t aware of his clenched fists and tensed thighs.

“Yet, you seem to be taking advantage of my generosity, good boyfriends shouldn’t do that ‘Tsumu. You’re a good boyfriend, aren’tcha?” you drawled lowly, as you started glancing at your nails using your other hand, viciously using his guilt-tripping tactic from before.

Atsumu looked positively famished. His brows twisted up guiltily, that sheepish, puppy look on his face once more. Still, you could see his eyes shining too bright, still thinking that it’d go his way if he played nice. He was a mischievous imp that was a little too used to getting what he wants. You decided you weren’t going to fall for it this time.

“[Name], I didn’t--”

“Oh, but you did,” you sharply interrupted him and he winced. Your heart throbbed and as much as you loved teasing him, you did want this to end with him pinning you to the couch so you smiled softly. “Why don’t we finish studying, yeah? Then you can make it up to me.”

If Atsumu wasn’t getting blue balled before, then he certainly is now. He had no idea how the situation began to drip with sexual undertone but with the unbearable heat coursing through him, he could only nod helplessly, at your mercy. For the remainder of the studying session, while it had become increasingly harder for him to stay focused with his raging hormones going haywire, he clung onto every single word that fell from your mouth like it was a lifeline as the incomprehensible scribbles on the page finally morphed into numbers and words that he could understand.

You grinned victoriously to see the eager look Atsumu would get in his eyes, awaiting your praise and what he thinks is his reward once you had both finally gotten through the content. He really is just like an overzealous, whiny puppy that wants his treat. Well now, this will most certainly result into an exciting night for you, just as you had planned.

You smirked triumphantly.

‘All according to keikaku.’

Miya Osamu

“So, do you know how to use Avogadro’s number?”

“Mm? Avocado?”

You sighed. “No, can’t you stop thinking about food for a second, it’s Avo—Osamu!” you yelped, seeing your boyfriend barely stirring from the nest he’s made with his arms as he blinks blearily at you. The sleep in his eyes quite nearly breaks open every dam with the unparalleled force that is your love and affection and ability to just gush about how adorable this man is for hours and yet, you are forced to restrain yourself. As much as you adore Miya Osamu, he is unfortunately, just as much of an idiot as his brother—yet strangely manages to get within a range of 1 to 5 per cent higher than him on every test.

Osamu lets a little smile slip. “Avosamu? I thought it was Avogadro.”

You offered him a hard glare before deflating into the kotatsu, just like he did. He perked his head up to hear your muffled groans, his lips quirking up at how cute you sound. “Osamuuuu, you need to study for the test tomorrow! It’s worth a third of your grade!” you exclaimed, erupting from the cocoon of your arms to pout at him. Osamu grimaced just a little because every move he made was with restraint as he guiltily looked away.

“I know but m’tired,” he mumbled into his arms, burying his nose into them. “From practice,” he clarified with a grumble that faded out into something roughly incoherent. You had to stop yourself from smiling at his petulant tone of voice as you sighed, shaking your head. He was a kid, just like Atsumu too apparently.

“I know but . . .” you trailed off to see him in a sleeping position. You shook your head, unable to stop your smile this time as you gently raked your fingers through his hair. A sound rumbled from his chest and you snorted, of course only Osamu would be able to do the human equivalent of purring. His face resurfaced from the blanket of his arms as he leaned into your touch, sighing contently. You found your hand devoured by the dishevelled mess that was his hair as you fondly played with his matted grey tresses. Your love for this man warmed your heart beyond words as you could feel yourself relaxing—you blinked.

Wait a minute.

The way you ripped your hand out of his hair was like a splash of cold water to the face as he startled, bewildered by your forceful action as you glowered at him. “You fox!” you hissed. He blinked innocently in return as you shook your head adamantly. “I will not be an accomplice to your illicit sleeping endeavours! Nor the reason why you fail tomorrow’s test and have to stay back to do catch up work! Atsumu and the team would never let you live it down you know!”

You clutched your beating heart with a flush on your cheeks. ‘Ahh, that was close! He’s much more convincing than I thought but I won’t be fooled!’

You offered him another glare before sighing. You’d done that too many times this session you now realised. “Look, I’ll get you some tea, okay? But after that, you have to stay awake! You’ll be in big trouble if I come back and you’re asleep,” you softly reprimanded him although he looked completely unabashed as he nodded.

“Mm’kay.”

You were only gone for five minutes but when you had returned . . . he was definitely in trouble.

You gripped the steaming cup of hot tea by the handle; careful not to brush your knuckles on the actual cup so you don’t burn yourself and spill it like a waterfall. Carefully, you placed the cup of tea out of reach so he doesn’t knock it over before you plopped onto the cushion next to him, pouting. Really, coming over, begging you to help him study, only to fall asleep in front of you, what a tease. . .

“Jeez, I was hoping for some, fun times after we finished up too~” you whined to yourself, letting your chin fall to your fist before a movement other than your own caught you from the corner of your periphery.

You narrowed your eyes. His lashes flickered like a butterfly’s wings, elegant yet silent. Then nothing. You drummed your fingers slowly on the kotatsu’s surface before aptly concluding that your, apparently, asshole boyfriend, was faking his slumber. Your Sleeping Beauty was actually a Beast in disguise so it would appear. You pursed your lips, blowing air from your nose like a puffing, huffing steam train. He wants to play like that, does he?

You swiftly rose out of your seat before standing behind him, your shadow devouring him. You just might too if Osamu doesn’t tread carefully. You eyed his fraying hairline, beneath his undercut. You wondered how sensitive it would have now become, what, with it being constantly exposed to the frigid air all the time. A smile coyly played to your lips, as you hummed kittenishly before leaning down.

Tenderly, you placed your lips to the back of his neck, giving it a quick peck.

You looked up, gauging for a reaction but received none. You smiled daringly. Perhaps your dear boyfriend needs a bit more persuasion. You pressed another kiss into his neck. And another one. Accompanied by another. Before you began peppering his neck in searing kisses, from the roots of his hair to the brim of his collared uniform. You watched in delight as the skin gradually increased in heat while you continued to reap the benefits of your ravenous exploits.

You could feel the skin beneath your lips beginning to tremble but since he still wouldn’t reveal he was awake. . . it might be time to go exploring. You hovered over his ‘sleeping’ frame as both your hands slithered under the arms pillowing his face. They coiled around his waist and you found yourself licking your lips, suddenly feeling rather hungry. You could see him beginning to squirm yet he was adamant not to budge. A wolfish laugh escaped you as you plunged your fingers under his shirt to dance on his stomach before your teeth finally met his skin.

The last thing you heard was a sharp gasp that sounded like absolute heaven before your world turned on its axis. Your back met the ground with a thud and you suddenly realised you couldn’t move. Casually taking a quick glance, you craned your neck to see two calloused fists handcuffing your wrists and pinning them above your head. You looked up to finally see a panting Osamu, glaring at you.

“Oi.”

You blinked.

Osamu was every shade of grey. Every expression, every movement, although a little rough, it was done with minimal effort and restrained. He was always in control and always composed. He was a little slow and sluggish like that, but he could become a dynamic black, cool and confident whenever you pluck just the right strings.

Which is why it was all the more endearing to see a lovely peach pink speckling on his cheeks.

“What,” he breathed out, as if he had just sprinted in a marathon, you could see his torso trembling, “do ya think yer doin’?”

You watched him placidly and couldn’t stop admiring the pretty colour on his cheeks. You wanted to capture it, burn it in your memory until your final breath. You wanted to paint it, to smear the red all over his grey. You licked your lips.

“I told you, didn’t I? That you would be in trouble if I came back to find you sleeping. So pray tell, what were you doing, ‘Samu?” you purred beneath him, a playful smirk crawling to your lips as you felt a pooling sensation bubble in the pit of your stomach.

Osamu’s eyes widened and even though he had overcast a shadow on the both of you, you could tell that his cheeks had darkened. He suddenly looked like a deer caught in headlights and he could no longer meet your gaze. With an agonisingly slow movement, he tentatively released one of your wrists to feel the back of his neck.

“D-did you . . .?” he stammered, not able to bring himself to finish the question.

Picking on what he was insinuating, using your left hand, now free, you roughly grabbed him by the collar before pulling him down. He yelped like a puppy that had lost its footing, as he lurched forward like a tidal wave, almost tumbling over, quickly stamping his free hand to the ground, stopping him from knocking his head into your as you curled your finger under his chin.

“No, I didn’t. I warned you though, right? If you try to fall asleep again when I’m teaching you. . .” you slur, tracing your finger, teasingly let it tap on his Adam’s apple as he swallowed, his eyes now wide awake and focused only on you as you grinned hungrily.

“I’ll decorate your neck with hickies until you’ve got a goddamn necklace of bruises.”

Osamu shuddered as he fell to his elbows, barely holding himself up. Feeling his voice shake, he meekly nodded, trying to hide his arousal as he shakily—but briskly—flew back to the kotatsu, promptly hiding his face from you, just like a mouse.

You bit your lip, grinning wildly at the ceiling which although, was completely uninteresting, was the only excuse you had to not let him see your dorky smile.

‘HOLY SHIT THAT WORKED. Reading all those fanfics and manga finally paid off!’

You can’t let yourself come off as too desperate though. You realised that you had been waving the stick in front of him for too long now, it was time to finally bring out the carrot.

You propped yourself, being deliberately slow as to keep him waiting before you tenderly held onto his shoulder. You could feel him tense you brushed your nose against the lobe of his ear, your wispy breaths dyeing it pink as you whispered:

“When we’re done, I promise, you can eat whatever you want.”

While he didn’t fall asleep and actually got some proper studying in afterwards, perhaps it was him being petty or a vain attempt to gain back some control, he did not offer you his dick but went straight for the fridge to get some pudding. Still, it didn’t change the fact that you were hungry and Osamu found out that night that not only were you quite convincing yourself but you also really liked turning his neck red.

Hmm. And you called him a fox.

[crumblepot-redirect]

I don't know if you're still doing prompts.. can I ask for 1.+thompkean?

of course you can!!

ask me any of the prompts from this list

1. our teachers keep pairing us together even though we’re polar opposites, but i can’t deny that you’re really cute + thompkean (highschool au, cause i’m weak)

Barbara Kean is a know-it-all, and it’s infuriating. 

Somehow, she manages to touch up her eyeshadow and explain Avogadro’s constant to her useless lab partner du jour at the same time. She can’t keep a lab partner, and she’s practically cycled through the whole class, except for Jim Gordon and Lee Thompkins. That’s because they’ve been the peak power couple since their freshman year, and of course they sit together in every class they share.

That is, until about a month ago. 

Lee has managed to win a seat to herself in the back of the room, intimidating people with her new haircut and her intense eye makeup and her surprisingly high grades. (Jim, on the other hand, has returned to Harvey Bullock’s side with a wounded ego. Harvey will listen to him complain, struggling to balance chemical equations while hearing Jim lament his every personal flaw.) 

It isn’t until a pairs assignment comes up that Lee gets thrust back into her front row lifestyle, pointed to the seat beside Barbara by their teacher who will not take no for an answer. Neither of them speak, far too uncomfortable with this new development. 

This continues to happen. Once every two or three weeks, the teacher snaps her fingers at Lee and points to the empty seat next to Barbara, and she walks up with little hesitation. Barbara is starting to lose her resolve— Lee always smells like starlight jasmine and oranges, fresh and sweet even though her entire look lacks color. Sometimes she goes for a bold, red lipstick, and Barbara thinks she might die. 

Lee never notices Barbara’s struggle, though, not until she nearly drops a beaker full of caustic acid onto the table because she was too busy watching Lee tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. She’s wearing these long earrings, elegant chains that dangle all the way down to her collarbone, and holy shit. 

“I thought you were smart,” Lee snips, looking from her lab report to see the ghosting of red over Barbara’s pasty cheeks, the shiver going through her hand. Huh. 

“Usually, I am.” Barbara is indignant, nose in the air. When Lee takes the beaker from her, brushing fingertips for a fraction of a second, it all falls apart. 

“Oh, you get defensive when you fuck up,” she laughs, pouring the acid into the graduated cylinder on their table, “that’s cute.” What’s worse? She means it. 

The next day, Lee sits herself down in the seat next to Barbara, notebooks and pens all set out in front of herself when class starts. Barbara is late because she spends the entire passing period trying to figure out why the fuck Lee is in the seat next to hers. (Is there an assignment due? She doesn’t miss assignments. Is there a lab today, too? Fuck.) 

It turns out, after Barbara spends the whole class missing lecture notes to stare at Lee and figure something out, it’s because she wants to. “I like you,” she says, matter of fact, “and I can see a lot better up here. I don’t need my glasses.” 

Glasses? 

Barbara spends the rest of the week thinking about Lee in glasses, wondering why she’s never seen them, and wondering just how absolutely precious that sight must be. 

She finds out in their next lab, when Lee has to put her glasses on to read the tiny script on the vials they’re using. Barbara is speechless, obviously staring. 

“What is it?” Lee asks her, scrunching her nose to keep the glasses from falling off of her face, “Is there something wrong?” 

“You’re really cute—” it’s so hard to stop once she’s started, and Barbara finds herself thinking of ways to choke herself without it being too obvious, “I— with the glasses, and um— you know, normally I’m better at this.” 

“Are you?” 

“Yes,” she whines, “normally I’m better at everything! But now you’re here and suddenly I’m a fucking moron.”

“Language!” The teacher gestures vaguely in the direction of their desk, ears perfectly in tune for what he isn’t supposed to hear. Barbara doesn’t apologize, but she lets out an exhausted puff of air. 

“I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt,” Lee tells her, reaffixing her glasses. “And you can take me out, some time. We can study, if that makes it easier on you.” 

“Easier?”

“You look like you might melt,” she giggles, and eventually Barbara lets herself laugh, too. Maybe this can work. 

It takes four dates that masquerade as study sessions, one of which happens in Barbara’s pastel pink bedroom, walls covered in various prints of modern art alongside academic track plans. She has a cork board with pictures of herself with her friends, and also a printout of Phineas Gage’s x-ray. 

Lee kisses Barbara on her bed, dropping a textbook to the floor and losing three of her color coordinated highlighters in the fuzzy rug. Speechless, and maybe a little breathless, Barbara just hooks her arms around Lee’s shoulders, threads her fingers up past the shaved hair at the base of her skull, into the obnoxiously straight strands that frame Lee’s face. “You know, normally,” Barbara says, speaking against Lee’s lips and definitely smearing her lipstick, “I’m—”

“Better at this?” 

“No,” she rolls her eyes, pouting so hard that her bottom lip touches Lee’s, “I’m just not usually on my back.”

“Is that a problem?” And Lee means it, ready to back up and release Barbara from the cage that her bony arms have imposed upon her.

“It’s not,” Barbara pulls Lee back down, slotting their noses next to one another and pressing their foreheads together, “not at all. It’s so not a problem.”

[spudmcloughlin]

you know what i’m just gonna type some shit with my eyes closed bc it’s fun

youtube on my tv isn’t working and i can’t figure out why. i restarted my firebox but it won’t work for some reason, and it’s not like the wifi is cut off, i’m still here on tumblr on my computer so like ???  am confusion

also whenever i type my elbows are on my desk and it’s shaking the desk and making it squeak ever so slightly and it’s very annoying

i’m rly fuckin tired

update spotify on the tv works so it’s not the tv or firebox it’s just youtube being a shit

update i went on youtube on my computer and uh yeah youtube is being a shit does anyone know why

update update jack tweeted about youtube being down so at least it’s not just me

you know what maybe i’ll type my chem notes here i mean i gotta do them anyway i’d rather have a record of typing them than having to write them rn

so here we go if you don’t like ap chem then goodbye

torricelli invented the barometer (made of a glass tube more than 760mm long, closed at one end, and completely filled with mercury)

thus the height of the mercury column is a measure of amospheric pressure and changes as atmospheric pressure changes

standard atmospheric pressure - supports a column of mercury 760mm high

equivalent to 1.01325x10^5 Pascals

1 atm=760mmHg=760 torr=1.01325x10^5 Pa=101.325 kPa=1.01325 bar

yikes that’s a lot of pressure units

10.3 the gas laws

boyles law: p1v1=p2v2

volume is inversely proportional to pressure

charles’s law: v1/t1=v2/t2

volume is directly proportional to temperature

avogadros law: v1/n1=v2/n2

volume is directly proportional to the number of moles of gas

why doesn’t this fucking book include my mans gay-lusaac

10.4 the ideal gas equation

ideal gas equation is also called the ideal gas law

you bet your sweet ass it is bc that’s what i call it and what i’ve always called it

pv=nrt

can be hella manipulated just to get whatever letter you want

ideal gas - a hypothetical gas whose pressure, volume, and temperature relationships are described completely by the ideal gas equation

two assumptions can be made:

the molecules of an ideal gas do not interact with each other

DNI IF MOLECULES OF AN IDEAL GAS😤🙈

the combined volume of the molecules is much smaller than the volume the gas occupies

ok woah why is this telling me that 0C is 273.15 K??

where did that come from???

term R is constant

0.08206 (L*atm/mol*K)

STP (standard temperature and pressure) = 273K and 1atm

combined gas law: p1v1/t1=p2v2/t2

suck my ass you still haven’t mentioned gay-lusaac

tell you what this is so much easier than having to write coherent things on paper straight from the book

like i can just take notes like this and then write them down later but instead of going through the book i just write important shit from right here isn’t that just wild

i’m only 16 years old i shouldn’t be looking down from balconies wondering if jumping from that height would kill me

anyway 10.5 applications of the ideal gas equation

ok do i really need to take notes on this part it’s just telling me how to use it to do math i fucking knowajgndljfls

alrighty that’s all done thank u for coming to my ted talk

maybe i should actually go through and write those notes now bc i have to turn them in tomorrow

ok byeee

[dinamicduo]

Homeopathic remedies are a crock of SHIT

Have you ever actually wondered what makes something a homeopathic remedy? To put it simply, It’s the process of heavily diluting a remedy, in order to cause a bodily reaction, to fight off an ailment. Sounds kind of legit right, because that’s kind of the same premise as a vaccine, right? You take the dead virus or a very small amount of dysfunctional virus, along with a whole bunch of other stuff, so your body can tag the virus, and make antibodies, in case there is an attack later on down the road. That makes perfect sense, it’s a primer for the real deal. THIS IS NOT THE SAME THING FOR HOMEOPATHIC REMEDIES, in fact this logic CANT EVEN FUCKING APPLY. So firstly, before I get to the meaty good stuff, I want to talk a little bit about the boring science stuff that makes homeopathy a fucking scam. Firstly there is this concept known as Avogadro constant, 6.02x10^23, or written out, 602,000,000,000,000,000,000,000. This is a huge fucking number just from looking at it. This number specifically describes the number of atoms in a 12 gram sample of Carbon-12. But it applies to EVERYTHING. Based on this number, scientists are able to determine how many atoms/molecules any given item has, just by how many grams it weighs. This is an absolutely revolutionary concept, and without it, chemistry COULD NOT FUNCTION. Most commonly, scientists use this number to find the concentration of a given solution. This is really important because if you know the concentration of a solution, specifically it’s Molarity, you know EXACTLY how many atoms/molecules of something you have in that solution. There is a little give or take, because we are humans, and can’t possibly measure everything perfectly, but this quantity is completely negligible. So for all it’s worth, whatever solution it is, you basically know the exact number of atoms/molecules a solution has. The only problem with this number, is that at a certain point it doesn’t describe a number, it describes the probability of there being something in solution. This is known as Avogadro's limit. So for example, imagine you have something with exactly 6.02x10^23 molecules of cyanide in it. Now that’s some pretty deadly stuff, and if there are 602,000,000,000,000,000,000,000 molecules of cyanide in it, you probably don’t even want to be near it. Because that’s a whole fuck ton of cyanide in solution. Now, what if I took 10 mL of that solution, and put it into 90 mL of water. That would mean there is 60,200,000,000,000,000,000,000. That’s still a whole lot of cyanide, but also a whole 541,800,000,000,000,000,000,000 molecules of cyanide that have been diluted, and are no longer in the solution. Now imagine if you did this exact thing 22 more times. You would be left with 6 atoms in solution. That’s legitimately NOTHING. That is probably less than the amount of cyanide in normal drinking water. Those 6 atoms are of no harm to you, whatsoever. But what if you did this again? Would have 0.6 molecules of cyanide? That doesn’t make sense? You can’t have less than a whole amount of molecules. This is known as Avogadro’s limit. Where there is no longer a set number of molecules or atoms, but rather, a likelihood of those atoms being in solution. And the more you dilute it, the less likely you are to find those atoms or molecules which you originally had, in solution. Now finally the point you have all been waiting for, in case you hadn't come to the conclusion already, this is the premise of homeopathy. This is what they actually do with their medicines. They dilute it to a point of making it a likelihood of finding a single molecule of the medicine less than a millionth or billionth of a chance. Now how the fuck am I supposed to get better from anything, IF WE CANT EVEN BE SURE THERE IS A SINGLE MOLECULE OF MEDICINE IN IT. This is some fucked up shit y'all. Homeopathic pharmaceutical companies, are making MILLIONS OF DOLLARS, based on some quack medicine idea, AND PEOPLE ARE BUYING IT. This is actually insane to me that nobody had caught on to this prior, and made a HUGE deal out of the fact that these companies are fucking scamming people, because they don't have the brains enough to wonder what the fuck makes something homeopathic. Anyway, spread this, make it known that homeopathic remedies are literally useless, and that I will individually fight anyone who tries to say that they work.