IM SO FREAKING EXCITED! I just got my first official deck of Tarot Cards. It’s The Ravens Prophecy Deck, 78 Cards, and omg they are so pretty. I went to the flea market to buy some, but alas, the lady who sold some wasn’t there today and neither was the lady I got my crystals from so we went home dropped off my friend and waited for my great uncle to leave. My mama and I had to go to the store to buy Bun(my rabbit btw) some fresh food and I was talking to her about it and she said Barnes and Nobles should sell some so we went there first and I got several Wicca and Spell Books there too. I love my mom. She’s one strong Christian but she still has her original roots. I just looked through them and I’ll be cleansing them tomorrow before I actually use them. I’ll also charge them in the sun for awhile once I clean them. ANYWAYS! I procrastinate. I have another post I meant to finish today but I decided I wanted to throughly clean my room. So that is also happening. I rambled too much. Blessed Be! ~Seb
I took issue with Hirohiko Araki’s understanding of the kinetic theory of gases during the Jumpin’ Jack Flash fight in Stone Ocean, but he did his homework on this part, at least. Hydrogen peroxide will decompose into water and molecular oxygen upon the addition of manganese (IV) oxide.
2 H2O2 → 2H2O + O2
I didn’t bother putting MnO2
in the above reaction since it apparently doesn’t participate directly in the reaction. Hydrogen peroxide will decompose all by itself given the right conditions, so all the manganese dioxide is doing is acting as a catalyst. It speeds up the reaction without actually being reacted itself. Here’s a Russian dude demonstrating the reaction in his yard with a bottle of Sam Adams.
What concerns me here is that he titled the video “Manganese dioxide + 35% hydrogen peroxide = ???” which makes me wonder if he even knows that’s steam and pure oxygen
he’s putting off. But the manganese dioxide powder looks completely unchanged after the reaction ends.
At a guess, I would speculate that the reaction breaks down into three parts. First, the hydrogen peroxide oxidizes the manganese dioxide into permanganic acid.
+ MnO2 → HMnO4 + 2H2O
Permanganic acid is the conjugate acid of permanganate salts, like potassium permanganate. The salts are fairly stable, but the acid is not, and it rapidly decomposes into manganese dioxide and oxygen.
4HMnO4 → 4MnO2 + 2H2O + 3O2
So in the end, you get water and oxygen gas, and the manganese dioxide powder ends up right back the way it started. That’s just me spitballing, though. I only found out about this reaction this morning, and the main thing I know about catalysts are that their reaction mechanisms aren’t always well understood, or as straightforward as we’d like them to be.
Will lingered in the hallway, watching the firelight lick over Hannibal’s arms, his face, the book in his hands. He made no motion, did not go to him and sit beside him on the sofa. He stood, breath held tight, wrestling with himself. He wanted to go sit there, but-
“Will,” Hannibal’s eyes looked up, then flicked towards him, turning his head to find him in the doorway, “come, sit down.”
And he’d been trying so hard to avoid detection, standing down wind and everything. Still, Hannibal had invited him, no point resisting now. He stepped forward gingerly, making his way consciously into the room. Here came the tricky part.
There were many seats to choose from, a sturdy rocking chair, a winged arm chair with its own ottoman, and the sofa, of course. Without looking too deliberate, too tense, without warning Hannibal, he hoped, he measured his steps and sat down next to Hannibal. He sighed with the cushions, making himself lean back in the posture of relaxation and stared into the heart of the fire, unblinking. He felt Hannibal start, pause, felt his eyes skip over the page, onto him, then back, afraid of being noticed for his watching.
“What’re you reading?” Will asked when he was sure Hannibal had read the page fifty times but not taken in a word of it.
Hannibal’s fingers hesitated over the page, trying to read for him. “The
Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám,” he let the pages fall open towards Will, “In translation, unfortunately. I plan to learn Persian to read it properly.”
“All that for a book of poetry?” Will mused, tilting his head back.
“It is beautiful,” Hannibal explained, “and deserves to be understood in its native tongue.”
Will nodded thoughtfully, “Well, that’s one project for the future.” He winced; they hadn’t discussed the future yet. At all.
“Yes…” Hannibal hesitated, feeling the elephant in the room, “if I find myself with enough time on my hands to-” He silenced abruptly as Will’s arm came down around his shoulders.
Will gulped, feeling like a high schooler on his first date, all stilted movements and anxious energy. Keep calm, relax; it wasn’t as though they weren’t both mature adults who had done this a million times before with other consenting adults. There should be no problem, no awkwardness, and yet… his heart beat in his throat like a bird thrashing at its cage.
Cautiously, Will stroked his thumb against Hannibal’s shoulder, almost to remind himself it was there, real and solid. Hannibal jumped, nearly dropping his book, “Will, your arm-” he fumbled, trying to turn to Will without turning in to Will and finding the proximity made this almost impossible. To look him in the eye he’d have to get closer.
“I’m nearly healed,” Will swallowed, his voice sounding high and foreign, “besides I should be stretching it anyway, so I’m not so sore. So the muscles… heal the… the way they’re supposed to.” He tried not to watch Hannibal, curving into him, pressing against him. He tried to focus on the fire as Hannibal gave in to the position Will had put them in with the softest sigh. It couldn’t be done.
Hannibal turned his head to reply and found his cheek brushing against Will’s shoulder. His eyes closed instantly, his lungs involuntarily inhaling. Will felt his bicep tense with nerves, there was a painful yank at the still closing wound, but he gave no sign of pain, transfixed on Hannibal.
“Physical therapy,” Hannibal returned abruptly, lifting his cheek, voice rough and low, “will be the hardest part of the healing process. It will be… lengthy and very painful for some time.” He licked his lips, trying to open his eyes all the way and failing, “You should still be resting.”
“I can sit here.” Will felt his hand come around Hannibal’s shoulder, palm flat against his arm. His body decided before he did that he wanted Hannibal closer.
“Could we… just… come here,” he mumbled, squeezing Hannibal to him with one long pull.
Hannibal’s last restraints broke. Before Will knew it he felt arms wrapped around him and a face pressed into his collar. Stunned, he put both arms around Hannibal and held him. Hannibal fit into him like a warm, heavy blanket, pressing against him everywhere he felt lonely. Though he’d been alone, he’d never felt lonely… until Hannibal. Only made sense that being with Hannibal could soothe that ache, maybe the only thing that might.
Hannibal’s hands skirted the edges of his bandages, wary of pressing too much, of being too much. Yet, he held tight, squirmed half into Will’s lap, as close as he could possibly get. Will could feel his heart beat, a skittering patter in reckless time, and he was sure Hannibal had no idea Will knew about it. The moment reeked of desperation, and yet… his arm curled tighter around Hannibal. And yet he pressed closer and yearned to feel Hannibal melt against him, melt completely.
Hannibal gave, he shuddered, he kept perfectly silent, but he shook like a leaf. Will held him close and never once thought about letting go. Hannibal gave so beautifully, he pushed and melted and succumbed so perfectly in his arms. This… this was nice. It was actually… really nice, holding Hannibal. He hadn’t expected that.
Will let his head fall against Hannibal’s, let himself breathe in his hair, press skin to skin, rest together like this. He listened to Hannibal breathe and slowly their breaths fell together. He lost track of time and was on the point of sleep when Hannibal murmured something in his ear.
“The fire’s all but gone, we should go to bed.”
The words struck a bell and cracked Will’s eyes open. He was still holding onto Hannibal, smushed together in one corner of the couch. “N-No, don’t go,” his voice croaked, groggy. The implications of it didn’t register immediately, too tired to remember to care too little.
Hannibal paused. “I won’t. But wait here, I’ll get some blankets.” His legs hit the floor and he slowly rose, untangling himself from Will’s arms with unfair grace. Will whimpered, freezing where his Hannibal blanket had been. He closed his eyes and curled onto the sofa completely.
Hannibal returned. He knew he returned because he felt warm again, he felt welcome pressure and weight on the sofa, covering him, slipping up beside him and into his waiting arms. Will’s lips lifted, pleased to be embracing Hannibal once again.
“You’ll regret sleeping like this in the morning,” Hannibal muttered into his chest.
“Won’t,” Will grumbled, one hand stroking idly at Hannibal’s back.
“We could sleep on the bed… still together.”
Will heard the request in his pause. His arms tightened, “Too tired. Drag me to bed tomorrow.” And he hunkered down, pulled Hannibal close, and silenced him for the night with a kiss.
you taught me the courage of stars before you left; how light carries on endlessly, even after death. with shortness of breath, you explained the infinite, how rare and beautiful it is to even exist. ♫ [want a drawing?]
my first time drawing landscapes… i think i did okay ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
when I drive to work, I drive past someone who keeps bees in their front yard. I feel like finding a way to thank them for this, but I have no idea how to. is that weird? should I leave them a thank you note at some point? should I look to see if they sell honey and purchase some? I don't even know if this is a weird thing to ask.
Hmm I don’t really have any experience with this! Recently a fellow beekeeper came into my yard and talked to my parents because they had seen the hives in the field. So I think maybe just leaving a thank you note, or talking to them in person would be fine! From what i know beekeepers are always happy to show off their bees and tell stories about them, I hope this helps!
QUESTION—> So there’s this one guy I met in Beverly Hills who isn’t a on SA (that I know of) but he’s essentially a young millionaire and is always throwing around money when we hang out. I call him my Vanilla Daddy. I haven’t slept with him (and won’t) cause then he won’t keep spending money on me. BUT he wants to go shopping tomorrow morning and buy me whatever I want (it’s so funny cause he thinks I’m just a vanilla girl who’s never shopped with a SD so I had to act all impressed and surprised when he offered lolol) but personally I don’t need anymore nice clothing or bags. I just want cold hard cash in my savings account. So what are the best high end stores that accept returns (with receipt) in exchange for cash? Or should I just start selling some of the nice gifts I get on depop or whatever? Because I can buy whatever I want and usually just want the money, but there’s no way to explain this to a Vanilla Daddy who just wants to spoil (he doesn’t care that I have bills to pay). If any of you fellow sugar babes / spoiled gf’s know of stores that accept returns or exchanges for cash (or maybe even gift cards) then let a girl know!
Imagine Steve having been mentored by Norman Rockwell
Steve only agreed to face
the storage unit because Pepper said she’d go with him.
Steve had an appreciation
for all of his teammates and Tower-mates but his affinity for and friendship
with Pepper ran deep. She reminded him
of both is mother and Peggy: a calm confidence and strength that was all Peggy
and a kindness that sometimes, (usually when he was very tired), made his eyes
prick thinking of his mother.
Apparently Howard had
taken it upon himself to store any and all of Steve’s belongings he could get
his hands on in a unit in his New York mansion.
Tony had never touched it (not even out of curiosity), and it had been
collecting dust for almost 80 years now.
Pepper had finally convinced him to visit and sort through what was
The old lighting buzzed
quietly in the silence as they surveyed the space. There was a cage in the far left packed high with
boxes. The rest was empty and mostly
dusty. She took one look at the empty space in front of the unit and laid down
three pieces of blue painters tape parallel to one another and eight feet
“Left is keep. Second from the left is for things you need
time to think about, second from the right is donate, right side is throw
You are overwhelmed and this will help you strategize, he heard her say.
He pulled her into a tight
hug. “Thank you.”
Three hours later and
they’d gotten through just over half of the unit. A majority of what had been in there, Steve
decided to donate to museums or sell to antique shops (he’d balked at the idea
of selling rather than donating to the shops, but Pepper pointed out he could
donate the funds to charity, so selling to shops it was).
The second-largest pile
was the trash pile, mostly full of empty boxes or old, moth-eaten clothes and
He was deciding upon
whether to keep the rickety bedside table that had been his mothers when Pepper
called to him rather shakily.
“You ok?” She was standing still on solid ground and he
hadn’t heard her fall. When he
approached, he noticed she was holding a yellowed sketchpad.
“Steve – what’s this? Is –
it looks like something Rockwell would draw.” She was passionate about art, something he admired in the collection in the Tower and her willingness to spend hours with him at a museum.
He glanced closer at the
page and smiled, pointing to a slightly smudged signature. “Oh – it is one of Norm’s. Huh. I
didn’t think that’d’ve been left with me.
I thought Howard would’ve donated it.”
“This is a Norman Rockwell
original.” Her voice was shaking still.
“Yeah. I mean-“ He flipped
the pages in the book. “See, there’s a
bunch. He –this must have been one of
the ones he used.”
Pepper tore her gaze away
from the book to search Steve’s face.
“What do you mean?” She
registered something he’d said and added, an octave higher: “Norm?”
“Norman – he was my
mentor. Not for long – before I met
Erskine, I was working as a propaganda artist.
He took me under his wing. I
think he saw a little bit of himself in me –he was a skinny guy too and until
he tricked the military, they wouldn’t take him either.”
Pepper was nearly
trembling. “Steve, do you have any idea
what these are worth?”
He took the sketchpad from
her carefully. “There’s a bunch of them
in here. I think we should donate some,
sell some others. And I want to stop at
a frame shop, on our way back to the Tower.”
Pepper furrowed her
“I know it wasn’t Tony
that curated that collection. You’ll
appreciate these more than anyone. Pick
out the ones you want.”
It wasn’t often Steve felt
he could repay his friends for their support, but this time, given Pepper’s
crushing hug, he felt pretty sure he was on the right track.
What is funny after a popular series ends is that for some time you’re grieving because it’s over, but then you start being submerged by a load of merchandise and suddenly there are 4000 collaborations with whatever convenience store/shop/brand… And of course, if you live in Japan you just need to participate. Which means that your free time (and the contents of your wallet) completely vanish. I regret nothing, but I wish I could clone myself… I should really start to sell some extra goods I have because I’m quite seriously broke…
I’ve posted this before but I wanted to show them off again! Also plans are underway to make some stuff to sell! But what platform should I do it on? Cause everywhere costs me to do so, could I just do it myself though messages and PayPal?
What’s a character you all think I should sew and sell on Etsy. I’m sewing some bodies (that sounds Weird but it’s just like. so I can turn them inside-out and sew heads onto them when I need to) and I wanna make characters to sell on Etsy alongside the Mr. Horse plush (wHICH I NEVER SHOWED YOU OH MY GOD LET ME POST IT AFTER THIS) and. Any suggestions.
(Pls don’t say any of my OCs because I want to make them but no one on Etsy really cares or knows who Jeffrey the Psychotic Substance Abuser or Exo or Chromarose are and also please not anyone from Bojack Horseman or Gorillaz bc those are like. Going to be separate projects that I am not fully ready to undertake. something human-shaped or human-looking that’s what I have the patterns for rn. I’m just trying to get some things out there before I start The Big Projects.)