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melodyofthevoid · 1 year

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Bodies are Business and Business is Good

Tw: blood, torture, amputation, etc. (It’s Heather)

Word Count: 3,326

There were fewer things more satisfying, Heather thought, than the slight hiss of the gas lamp in her work office.

A frankly wonderful modern invention, much more controlled than simple wax candles and less likely to blow out at a moment’s notice when she had her back turned or was in the middle of delicate work. Natural light wasn’t exactly an option, not here. And her clients tended to demand their money’s worth.

Plus, it was so nice to listen to the small intake of breath when her victims realized she was there. And the narrowing of their eyes as she became fully visible.

She turned the key and struck a match, blinking as her own eyes adjusted to the light, bouncing off of the thick carved stone and cast iron tools lining the walls. The vials and jars just waiting to be filled. And, shining off of the few exposed scales of the exhausted mer panting and strapped to her operation table.

As expected, they flinched when she descended the stairs, pulling at the restraints with all of their might. Clearly not enough, but a valiant effort.

“Apologies for the delay, but since you so stubbornly held onto your disguise, it put a damper on my evening plans the other day. I’m sure you must be thirsty.”

The angel fish snarled, flaring their bright yellow tail and thrashing harder, their scales– iridescent– bright blues, yellows and greens that would make for excellent amulets or accessories.

She made a note to get more leather and wire for the necklaces. Accessories sold well. Not as well as her other products, but well enough. A status symbol to those who were in the know.

“Fuck off- you- you-”

“Bitch? Monster? I’m sure I’ve heard it before. Believe me, I have.”

A well in the back, hidden by a few boxes, caught her victim’s eye as she walked over to it, grabbing a nearby bucket and pumping it full. Saltwater smell filled the air, overpowering the metallic tang of Heather’s tools.

The mer eyed the bucket, thrashing less as she approached. Ah, good. Maybe this one would be cooperative. Or somewhat more cooperative.

“Actually… Before we get started, and I let you have this, I have a simple question for you. Do you happen to know the location of any other mermaid colonies? You don’t have to tell me all of them, just one or two.”

Any relief that the mer–oh what was their name again? It didn’t really matter, the mer’s relief vanished, eyes narrowing to slits and their fins flaring out.

“Tell you- no. Fuck you. You and your dog won’t get your hands on any more mer- not if I can help it.”

“Well, you’re right about one thing, he is something of a dog, look at you.”

She ran a hand along their tail, ghosting over the gashes that lined it. Wounds that’d barely scabbed over during transport. Other bruises and scratches marred their skin and fins. Heather scowled. Charles was new, but that didn’t excuse abject incompetence.

This would put something of a dent in what she could sell. Charles would be compensated accordingly.

“I told him minimal damage, and yet here you are. Can’t even follow basic directions right. But I digress. If you won’t offer what I need, there’s no sense in dragging this out.”

Heather mulled over where to start, eyeing her knives and branding rods. Carving took longer, but risked too much thrashing for a clean cut. Fins, for all of their use, tore rather easily if not handled properly.

Morro —ah, right that was their name— looked to be healthy enough that draining them first wouldn’t end in them bleeding out entirely.

The needle it was then.

“Now where did I put it… ah, here it is.”

She hummed under her breath, pulling out three glass jars, and her needle, cleaning off the point of it and eyeing Morro’s exposed forearms. A good thing that they were tense already. That certainly made things easier.

A particularly exposed vein on their right arm made for the perfect target and Heather couldn’t help the shiver that went down her spine as the metal slid into the skin, flesh giving way to the needle’s piercing point. So satisfying.

Immediately crimson blood filled the glass tank of the gun, flowing down to the tube and filling up the first jar. The lifeblood of her operation, so to speak. So many customers, all vying for that most viscous and vital of her products. And who was she to deny them when she was living testimony of its efficacy?

Of course she’d never give away all her trade secrets for her longevity. She wasn’t born yesterday.

Or even within the last half century.

In any case, the blood flowed easily, and already one jar gleamed with it. Full to the brim. Switching one out for the other, Heather placed it off on a table, taking a moment to admire the flicker of the gas lamp light against the glass and crimson. Perhaps one day she’d find some other substance, a gemstone, a resin, something that could capture the beauty of her craft.

She doubted it though.

With a second jar nearly filled, Morro’s skin showed the effects. Ashy, almost clammy in places. Their gaze unfocused and any attempts at thrashing much weaker than before. Reaching the limits of what they could give today.

Heather switched out the jars one last time, watching the stream slowly taper off as their breathing slowed down and body relaxed against their will. For their trouble, she poured some of the sea water in the bucket over them, giving them a pat on the shoulder as she extracted the needle from their vein and bandaged the wound. Some blood sluggishly seeping through the gauze.

“You,” Morro slurred, “you’ll pay for this. Indra will hunt you for the rest of your days.”

“Mmm, is that so? Tell me, how long do you think I’ve done this work?”

Her captive didn’t respond. Only glaring with bared fangs.

“Believe me, if your goddess really gave a damn, I’d think she’d have taken notice by now. I’m not going anywhere, and for the time being? Neither are you.”

“The debt will be paid- MHMPH!”

Heather tied the gag tighter, rolling her eyes.

“That’s enough out of you. I’ll spare myself the usual theatrics. Feel free to still scream though, I don’t mind. You’ll give me what I want either way.”

Finally, Heather could get to the real work.

Choosing the right knife to start with always proved to be the most taxing part of the work. She’d tried typical fish scalers in the past, but those were better suited for the fishmongers and fresh markets. The scales she worked with required more work than that. But on the other hand, using the back of the wrong knife chipped and damaged the scales, and no one wanted to buy half a scale.

Heather’s fingers danced along the different blades, intermittently picking one up, twirling it, feeling the heft and then setting it back down, moving on to the next one. Eventually she settled on her favorite, a long curving blade, sturdy and sharp. Tempered steel reflecting her own dark gaze back at her.

Starting from the base of the tail, as she’d done a thousand times before, she wedged the back end of it underneath the first line of scales, and pushed upwards.

The previously limp mermaid jerked up, a muffled yelp coming from beneath the gag. Of course, Morro barely possessed the strength to so much as twitch. Too tired to fully put up a fight, but Heather tightened the straps on their tail anyway. With that secure, she continued pushing up, the shining iridescent angelfish scales now tinted red at the base as they fell to the floor below. They’d be cleaned and polished later.

Despite the gag, Heather winced as the mer tried to shriek, to throw her off through the only means they had left. Admirable if it weren’t so annoying. She took a step back and stood back up, towering over her prey. Cooing with a voice as sickly sweet as she could make it.

“Oh relax, this isn’t even the worst part. But we can get to that if you want. It might make this seem pleasant in comparison. How does that sound?”

Morro shook their head, but she’d already flipped her blade around and dug it into the membrane of the main tail fin, slicing through with no resistance. The bright yellow would make for a lovely trophy for the right buyer.

It was a little too bright for her tastes though. It clashed with the decor.

Hitching breaths came from above, strained and hissing through clenched teeth. The poor thing was trying to keep themself calm even with the gag. She laughed, cutting through the dorsal and pectoral fins next, setting them aside to dry.

Muffled moans and cries left Morro and Heather checked their cheeks to see if there were tears. A frustratingly rare commodity. Not that they did anything but clients always wanted them. By all means she could just sell some sea water, but she had standards.

She clicked her tongue to see that there were no tears. A shame.

With the last of the fins removed, Heather spun her knife back around and continued peeling away the scales, with far less reaction this time, which was also in and of itself a shame. She liked the fight so long as she could still do her job. Heather’d done Morro a mercy if anything. After an amputation, pulling a few scales probably felt like nothing. Like pulling nails off of a hand freshly devoid of a few fingers.

Sometimes though, the sudden lack of fight signaled an end to that night’s session. Ignoring her subjects too much could be costly. Brushing the last few whole scales into a second bucket, Heather stood back up, examining her work.

Morro was slumped over, exhausted from the strain and blood loss. Wiping any excess off of her knife on her apron, Heather did her usual checks, pulse, reflex, breathing, etc. They were still alive, which meant that she’d get at least a few more pints out of them by the time they eventually kicked the bucket. It’d be such a waste if she only got one day’s worth.

They’d hold out longer than that, she’d make sure of it.

With a sigh, she got out her needle and thread, stitching up the gashes Charles left and cleaning out the wounds. Bandaging up the stump near the tail. No infections, and no potential loss. The blood was no good from a dead mer.

As much as she liked the final processing steps, she still had other orders to fulfill, and going out of her way to catch another prospect? A waste of her time and resources. Nothing wasted, not if she could help it.

Her hairnet came off, as did the gloves and apron, all placed in their proper places far enough away that any nearby officers couldn’t smell the fresh blood on her. She needed to replace the shirt though. Again. The price she paid for wearing white.

Ah well, no skin off her back. She disposed of any evidence once or twice a year. Fireplaces served a variety of uses.

A quick shower and a change of clothes left Heather feeling far more accomplished and relaxed now that the euphoria of her work had passed. There was a certain… thrill to it, to the slice of flesh under her knife. But getting lost in that feeling led to less than precise work. In less vials of blood and damage to the organs she needed to sell later. So, for the sake of her own work, she had to take breaks. Balance was key, and experience taught her well.

Maybe for the evening she could fully unwind with some luxury time. She’d just have to find that bottle of wine and those chocolates she’d been saving.

The glasses were in the cabinet of her office, so here was hoping that there weren’t any last minute visitors. She’d had enough business for the day.

Though as she entered the room from the back, she sighed. No such luck.

A certain red-haired captain stood in the main lobby, smoking a cigar. Blowing rings of smoke into the air with his usual air of disinterest. Odd, he’d delivered her fresh supply not even a year and a half ago. Confusion outweighed her irritation at the intrusion. For now.

“To what do I owe this visit, Captain?”

Fachnan exhaled, tapping the stray ash onto the floor. Sullying it.

Asshole.

“Ah, Heather. I was hoping you’d stay in that dungeon for a little while longer. I find it’s easier to take in your trophies without you drooling all over them. We were stopping here for a short time and well, I figured I’d drop by.”

“Mhm…sure.”

The twitch in Fachnan’s hand and dart of his eyes didn’t exactly scream “casual chat”.

“Why’re you really here, and make it quick. You’re getting ash all over my perfectly good carpet. I do try to keep an air of respectability here.”

“My apologies, your majesty, I’ll be sure to clean your lair to a shine.”

Heather’s jaw tensed, teeth close to grinding. Unnecessary stress meant unnecessary aging, deep breaths in, deep breaths out. She forced herself to relax, schooling her expression into neutral disdain.

“False deference doesn’t suit you, Captain. I’d get your nose off of the floor before I lose my patience.”

“Fine, fine. Since you’re in a hurry I’ll make it quick.”

Fachnan gestured wide, splaying himself across the couch in her office with all the grace and respect she’d come to expect. Letting out a sigh, Heather grabbed the first open bottle of wine she could find and poured some out. Counting down the minutes until he left.

“The reason for my visit is simple, I want to do you a favor.”

She arched her brow, sipping at her glass.

“You’ve just been a source of income for me, Lady of the Sea. Owe at least some of my success to you. I’ve got a tip you might be interested in, for a small price, of course. Can’t just give this sort of thing to any ametuer.”

Actively sending Charles out on another hunt before she could properly chastise him for damaging this merchandise? She’d pass.

Besides, she paid Fachnan for tangible work. If she threw her fortune any idiot who walked in promising a lead, she’d have exhausted her coiffers long ago. Her decades of experience were worth far more than what one measly captain thought he knew.

“Charming, but I’m not looking to take on another project or search for one at the moment. Frankly, I don't like drawing more attention to myself than necessary. You know how these new officers get, all bright eyed and full of belief in ‘law and order’. The guard’s changed in the past few years, and I’m not exactly looking to make any waves at present. The fewer bodies, the better.”

She sipped at her wine once more, mulling over the best way to politely but firmly tell Fachnan to fuck off. Alone time was calling her name like the sirens she cut to ribbons.

“Well that’s a shame. Here I thought you were interested in a shark mer. Guess not then.”

With an inhale, the wine went down her throat and Heather choked and coughed. It burned all the way up to her sinuses, but nothing compared to the spark of interest. Still catching her breath, she unlatched a compartment in the desk behind her, pulling out a sharpened knife and setting it on the wood beside her.

He could lie or take out his sword if he wanted, but her reputation spoke for itself. There’d be one winner here.

“I see I have your attention then,” he smirked, “I’ll admit, the gold was a bluff. This one’s on the house.”

“Bullshit. What do you want?”

“Fine, this mer in question is something of… a thorn in my side. You taking care of her would be doing me a service, Madame Butcher. She appears to be a hybrid, if that sweetens the deal.”

It did. Quite a bit in fact.

“And you’re sure about this?”

“Dead certain. Last saw her face off the coast of Paign. Goes by the name of Delta. About seven feet tall, blue fins, blue coat, she’s fairly hard to miss. Has a whole crew of mer from what I could tell.”

A whole crew… she let out a breath.

“No shit. Typically I don’t get in the middle of feuds, or do bounty work for that matter, but just this once? I think I can agree with that. In fact…”

Heather stood up, walking over to a mahogany cabinet, carved with intricate flowers and vines. An inherited piece, and not even a forced one. They’d handed it over after the funeral, which was well and good. Natural causes were less messy to deal with generally speaking. She pressed the central-most flower’s petals and the compartment toward the bottom opened up, shining vials revealed within it.

“A gift, to a valuable partner. For your health.”

She held out a crimson vial. Heart blood.

“I’d like to keep my more reliable freelancer at sea for a few more years.”

Seconds ticked by, and Fachnan shook his head, “No, like I said. This one’s free. I just want her gone.”

Pirates and their honor codes. She rolled her eyes and set the vial back into its case.

Although speaking of…

“By the way, how’s that associate of yours doing? Changed his tune yet? I know he’s got quite the reputation for finding what he’s looking for. I’d like to use his expertise.”

Deep lines set into Fachnan’s face as he glanced away. Shoulders lowered. His bravado evaporated leaving behind only bitter salt.

“He and I won’t be seeing each other any time soon, gods willing. My only hope is it was quick.”

Ah. So it was like that then.

“I see, I apologize. I’ve been rather busy as of late, haven’t kept up with the times. My condolences for your loss.”

He grit his teeth, expression darkening further.

“It was his decision. We parted ways some time ago. He knew the risks of going soft, and look where it got him.”

“Well, that is how it is sometimes. Connections come and connections go. Time stops for a lucky few.”

The dots weren’t hard to connect, as hard as Fachnan fought to keep his aloof persona intact. Whatever drama or series of events led to this, frankly she didn’t care. What mattered was her prize. He could mourn his lost flame all he wanted on his own time.

With the last of his cigar fully gone, Fachnan stared at the embers before standing up from the couch, lifting his chin to look down at her. She met his gaze with a smile every bit as sharp as her tools.

“I’ll be heading off then. Send word when you need my services again.”

“Oh I will, don’t you worry. Thank you for stopping by, your help is much appreciated.”

He didn’t respond, only turning for the door and leaving Heather alone with her wine and her thoughts. Her smile stretched wider across her face and she let out a laugh, growing in intensity as euphoria set in.

A shark. A shark hybrid.

Looked like she’d have to clear her schedule to ensure that this… Delta could get all the attention that Heather could offer. Get the care and quality work that she deserved as the future crown jewel of her collection.

Morro could be rest assured that their suffering would be brief. She had preparations to make.

#my writing #ocean idiots #please enjoy!#I've had this one banked for a bit and I'm still super proud of it #gotta do some more writing now that college is almost done #yippee #oh I'll put the tags down here too #blood tw #torture tw #amputation tw #heather is sadistic and though that's not a surprise she is actively butchering live people #so #ya know #also fachnan is a funny guy #wonder why he's got it out for delta #or one of delta's... associates #hehe #anyways

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mrschwartz · 2 years

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Alex Turner opens up about The Car, Arctic Monkeys' 20th anniversary album

The frontman of the British band that performs at Primavera Sound, in São Paulo, invests in more abstract lyrics in new album

Published October 16 2022, by Rodrigo Salem

Alex Turner is not satisfied with the lighting in the room chosen as the setting for our interview. It's a small, cozy hipster hotel in the Los Feliz neighborhood of Los Angeles, one of those above a cafe with tables occupied by young people at the computer, and no lines at cash registers that don't accept cash.

The frontman of Arctic Monkeys, the biggest rock band to come out of the UK in the last 20 years, flips the switches until he finds the perfect balance of light. "Is this okay for you?" he asks, but doesn't seem to care too much about the answer.

Turner likes to have complete control over his environment. "Where do you want to sit? This will be the best place, right?" he asks, coffee in hand, already standing in front of a small beige table below the lamp that insisted on not emanating the adequate light.

Shy to the point of never completing a full sentence, as if his mouth didn't keep up with his fast brain, Turner is acutely aware of his obsession with control and attention to detail, something that has only grown bigger in the last few years at the helm of the band. But the singer, guitarist and songwriter lived something different in the creation of The Car, the group's seventh album, which will be released worldwide this week.

After composing the piano demos alone for much of the pandemic, he was reunited with the rest of the band over the summer of last year, in a secluded house that was part of a 12th-century monastery in Suffolk, on the east coast of England.

"We hadn't done that since the first album. I had extra film rolls and I took my 16mm camera to film everything and keep myself busy during the recording. At first, I just wanted to record the memory, but it seemed to help in the work environment, because I stepped out of the process a bit and gave everyone more space," he says.

"James [Ford, record producer] was delighted, because I wasn't looking over his shoulder all the time and being a twat."

The musician's hobby as a filmmaker was not the only novelty in the three weeks of work in the makeshift studio, complete with a piano borrowed from a resident there and the technological arsenal brought in from London. The period was essential for Arctic Monkeys to remember that they are still a rock group formed by friends.

"We had a lot of laughs and watched the Euro Cup together. It was important to have that band energy again," says Turner, revealing that Body Paint, The Car's latest single, only took its final form because of this camaraderie. "The distorted guitar at the end just came about because I wanted to do that solo with them. It sounds obvious, but being together changes the dynamics of how I play."

Ironically, the album's main theme seems to circle around characters that don't seem to fit the environment they're in. In Body Paint itself, which wouldn't be out of place in one of George Martin's orchestrated productions for The Beatles, Turner sings that he's "keeping on [his] costume and calling it a writing tool."

Jet Skis On The Moat, played on a sultry guitar and with a broken rhythm reminiscent of U2's The Playboy Mansion, brings a Hollywood psychedelic mood—"jet skis on the moat / they filmed everything in CinemaScope, but this is the last time you will ride them, though".

"I was imagining this perception of us living like rock stars in a fantasy castle on a mountain, riding jet skis, disconnected from everything," says Turner.

In I Ain't Quite Where I Think I Am, he seems to describe a strange trip on a luxury yacht off the coast of France, a country where he usually goes with his girlfriend, French singer Louise Verneuil, since he moved back to England from Los Angeles. "I spend less time here, but I love this city. It's where I have my friends," he says.

Extremely protective of his privacy, Alex Turner does not confirm any theories that could refer to his life beyond music. However, he admits that feeling like a fish out of water is one of the themes of the record. "I've definitely written this time about someone who doesn't fit in," he says as he pulls out of his green jacket two folded sheets of paper filled with his lyrics and assorted notes.

I question the reason for keeping this material around and the singer lets his guard down. "I think that this way I can have these conversations more easily, and stay on the same level as other people. You've read the lyrics, listened to the record, and I thought I should do the same to meet you in the middle," he says, soon bringing back up his good-humored defenses. "And it also serves to intimidate people."

Not that he seems to want to intimidate anyone. Turner can barely look up, more concerned with focusing on some object and finding the right words for his answers. Keeping the lyrics in your pocket serves to rediscover the words of the songs.

One of the most brilliant songwriters of modern British rock and someone who has managed to portray the yearnings and feelings of an entire millennial generation, he says his lyrics come out of the space between the conscious and the unconscious.

In The Car, they seem even more abstract. "I love leaving space for lyrics not to be fully understood and to become more interesting as the years go by. I like to explore things that are difficult to talk about."

Does that mean that Alex Turner, who, two decades ago, rehearsed in a garage with Jamie Cook on guitar, Andy Nicholson on bass, later replaced by Nick O'Malley, and Matt Helders on drums, in Sheffield, is finally noticing the inevitable passage of time?

"Funny, it's hard to accept that it's been 20 years," he says. "But we're alive and active. That happens a lot when I'm singing the old songs now. I remember something, not necessarily the lyrics, but the environment, a person and the sensations of the past."

A rich past, we must add. Arctic Monkeys have gone through several phases in these two decades. It began with the confessional hip-hop-enamored rock of the first two albums, a formula that propelled the group into the stratosphere of fame. It gained weight with the stoner rock of Josh Homme of Queens of the Stone Age on 2009's Humbug and the stadium hard rock of 2013's AM. And it culminated in the journey away from Earth in 2018's jazzy Tranquility Base Hotel & Casino.

The Car continues the sonic exploration of their previous work, but brings guitars back to the songs and a Turner interested in using his voice as an instrument. "I don't know if Alex from 20 years ago would like this sound," he wonders. "Secretly, I wanted something along those lines then, but it wasn't within my reach at the time. On second thought, I think he would like it. But if he wouldn't like it, then fuck it," he jokes.

He admits that he changed his way of looking at music and even composing. On previous albums, he wrote the lyrics and then thought of the melody. The music now comes first.

"I made an effort to put the lyrics in sync with a melody that gives me permission to use certain words," says the musician. "I didn't focus on that in the past, I think it started on AM, when I started to change the lyrics as I was influenced by the sound in the studio."

Back on stage since a few weeks ago, Turner believes the pandemic has changed the relationship between band and audience. "The first time we performed was powerful," he says. "There's a new energy that encourages me. I'm trying not to behave the same way on stage. I think some of that comes from the younger crowd."

Brazil is going to feel this in a few days. Arctic Monkeys closes the first day of Primavera Sound, in São Paulo, on November 5th, already oiling the show with a new repertoire. "When we arrive in Brazil, I want to test two new songs and leave some old ones behind," says the singer, who already says that the next album may come out faster than expected after the long gestation of The Car.

Unable to play shows, the group spent a year polishing up the album in post-production. "We had more time to work on the record and I like to think that this had a positive influence on the final result, as we had more space to hone, think and fight for certain ideas", says Turner. "I love the idea of doing something different, like writing, recording and releasing in a week. Maybe it's a fun idea for the next project."

#translating this was a delight! i used to want to be a translator this brought me back wow #also the jet skis lyrics are not it okay i had to guess from portuguese i did the closest thing that seemed to rhyme #arctic monkeys #alex turner #the car #interview #*#i hope that he doesn't mean i ain't quite as one of the new ones #i want like 6 the car songs if possible. who does he think he is #also he'd kill himself if he had to work on a project for less than like 6 months lol #the bit about the lights is so vnjdnjfvnjncjd #also the thing about meeting the interviewers in the middle 🥺 i have a post from a couple year back saying how he refuses to do that.#i used those exact words. i.#he's growing and trying and proving me wrong im so

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thoughtsonhurtandcomfort · 1 year

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Tiny Whumpee vs...

Household Edition

ceiling fan

air conditioner

space heater

the shower

flyswatter

fly paper

mouse trap

the vacuum

a mop or broom

lava lamp

wires/electricity

a curling iron or hair straightener

a blow dryer

medicines meant for humans

laundry chute

washer/dryer

an iron

a high shelf

cleaning products

the fireplace

fire extinguisher

| Kitchen Edition | Craft Edition |

#tiny whump #whump prompts #prompt list #tiny whumpee vs #household whump #feel free to add more!

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sunevial · 5 months

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The Districts

Silver Bones (residential)

Sanctuary

The air is kind. The air is kind, and the streets are clean, and there are places to sit and rest and watch the world go by. Streetcars are regular, and the buildings are eclectic, and there are children waiting under colorful lamps. It’s never exactly quiet, but it’s never crowded either. There’s someone offering food, a blanket, a hand, a young child offering up a glass of lemonade. It’s calm. It wants you to relax. It wants you to let your guard down and find somewhere to call home.

While the entirety of the Torn Veil has residential housing, the Silver Bones district is a bit quieter than the hustle and bustle of the trading districts. Shops and services are more tailored for residents, offering home goods, furniture, and cheap groceries for its residents. Lamps and lanterns light up the many corridors and bridges, bathing the whole district in soft lights of every color. Many who work in the city live in Silver Bones, whether they stock stalls in the stores or work at the Necropolis.

Shadow Puppets (entertainment)

Reflective

The song ever plays on, but what does it say about you? Why do you end up in front of a 1920s speakeasy instead of a tavern? Why go to a crass theater production instead of an orchestral ensemble? Why do you pick out one of the overlapping buildings instead of another, watch one street performer over another? The buildings all blend together through space, but go inside one and it’s like stepping back in time. Reality is fuzzy at the seams, so you have to pick what you see. Why did you pick it?

A brightly colored district where reality seems especially fuzzy at the seams. Buildings seem to fade into each other, overlapping to show architecture styles that have only one unifying theme: they’re all from places long, long in the past of their respective worlds. Strange music echoes down the streets, drawing people deeper into the maze of colors and sights and sounds. Theaters are packed day in and day out, ghostly bards and their living apprentices keeping shows running regardless of the hour of the day, while skeletal stuntmen and acrobats perform feats impossible for the living at strange circuses.

Dutchman's Docks (port)

Transitory

The ironic nature of a port is that no one ever stays for long. Sure, there’s places to stop in, grab a drink, warehouses store goods, places for people to sit down and chat and catch up, certainly. But it’s a working place, and it feels like a working place, and it’s not a place most folks stay for long. There’s work to be done, places to be, things to sell, and the roads are wide and they seem to get a little wider when crates are being sent elsewhere. Everyone is going elsewhere. The city calls the land folk further in, and the sea calls the sailors back, and the water itself calls the dead to find what they lost. It’s not a place to stay. Maybe that’s not a bad thing.

Ghostly ships sit docked next to modern sailboats and larger vessels on the easternmost side of the city, all laden with goods. Occasionally, ships and aquatic folk appear out in the foggy distance that always seems to swallow the distant sea. Once ships are docked, porters and dock-hands quickly unload goods, bringing them into the city and loading them up with cargo as captains barter over strange alcohols and games thrown with bone dice. It's connected to the Idle River, the main thoroughfare of the Torn Veil.

Kelsara's Tears (administrative)

Stark

There’s something about busy silence. Perhaps in a true afterlife, this would be the place where the dead would be processed and registered, where you might find someone tending the gates or long lists to consult. It has that feel, certainly, but those lists and those meetings are a little mundane and a little boring and a little unremarkable. The buildings are grand, but the tasks are familiar. Repetitive. A little thankless. Grounded. Unusually grounded. Perhaps it’s the fact that its workers know that progress is often a little boring. Perhaps it’s because it was named after a necromancer who became a god and died for what amounted to civic duty.

Named after a long-since dead lich god of a dead world, the most important people in the Torn Veil live and work within sprawling white and gray marble civic buildings that are built so tall that they seem to defy gravity. The Torn Veil’s premier university, the Necropolis, is also within this district, as well as its oldest libraries and grandest museums. Additionally, the district is also home to training facilities for various guards and soldiers that help protect the city from invading forces, all managed by an undead dragon general possessing a dragon-sized suit of armor.

Shrieker Road (artisan)

Divine

If there is a place that is holy, it is in the burning furnaces and pots of paint and piles of metal and under a scoring blade. The air is hot and dusty and sooty and filled with strange smells, and a thousand small workshops weave and beat and shape and mold their creations with loving, awe inspiring care. Art and love and frustration and triumphant joy overflow into the streets, mixtures of prayers for something to finally work and the hard earned sweat of a beautiful blade or a glazed vase or a tapestry embroidered with silk. It never sleeps. It never wants to sleep. Creation never wants to rest, and a thousand, million small gods of their own making would have it in no other way.

Though called ‘a road’, Shrieker Road is a full district that has built up around the bank of the Idle River. Buildings have large windows and plenty of ventilation, and the architecture is as bizarre as it is beautiful. This is where artisans both make and sell their wares, with workshops and kilns going at all hours of the day and paintings drying in a steady fluttering wind. The Torn Veil is especially known for its incredible pottery, crafted using clay dredged up from the bottom of the Idle River.

The Aurora Agora (market)

Nostalgic

It’s a place that you swear you’ve been before. It looks like the main street of a small town you visited once when you were seven and was burned into the back of your mind. It looks like walking down a street you cannot name in the middle of the night. It looks like a city center as you remember it, but it’s never quite real but never not real either. It looks like a movie, a memory, a time you were younger or a time you wish had come to pass. It’s a place that looks like it belongs somewhere else (maybe that’s why it has so many hotels, because it’s made up of those liminal memories).

A section of the city that is caught much more in the darker part of the sky. It is near the West Gate, where the bulk of travelers come into the Torn Veil on foot. Reality is slightly more stable here, a little more grounded, streets and buildings interspersed with fountains, small shrines, and hotels to stay in for a night or two. The district is still busy, certainly, but it is busy in a way that feels more like a city somewhere else. It is nostalgic, and it is strange.

Faded Dreams (market)

Imaginary

The district lives up to its name: it feels like it should only belong in a dream. There’s anything you could ever want if you just look hard enough, just wander down another aisle, talk to another person, find something that you lost or that you never knew you lost. You can’t actually buy an experience, a dream, a lost past, a second chance here, but it feels like you could. You can’t actually learn to fly either, but it feels like you could be like those semi-suspended buildings too. It doesn’t feel real, and somehow it feels less real because you can actually buy things here, as if you could take a daydream and make it solid.

A district centered around a large plaza, or at least, what at one point was a plaza. Now it’s a maze of stalls, booths, blankets, and grills, surrounded on all sides by towering buildings with a million balconies and small terraces. Those who can defy gravity most commonly frequent this market, and it is full of ghosts, avariel, fairies, and all folk who can float and fly. For those that are earthbound, levitation-powered elevators, sky carriages, and sky-trams can ferry shoppers up to the higher shops.

The Undercity (market)

Hidden

The city hides things down below. Doors are hard to find. So are shops. So are people. It’s not that the pathways change but that they shift just enough to make it hard to find things if they don’t want to be found. Sure, there’s folk who take advantage of that (more than a few, not every living dead is a good person, nor admits to be), but others want their privacy, their anonymity. If you want to disappear, the city grants that wish. Just make sure you have a way back if you want to be found again.

Tightly packed buildings crowd this section of town, with doors to taller buildings often leading to the roofs of shorter ones. Getting anywhere requires navigating a maze of back doors, tight alleys, and flickering lights. Shops are packed within, selling small goods, silver trinkets, evil eye pendants, often smaller, nich-er things that only the skilled know how to find. While often considered a seedier part of town, it’s no more dangerous than the rest of the Torn Veil… most of the time, anyways.

The Idle River

Exchange

What are you willing to learn? What are you willing to lose? The river takes and the river gives, just depends on if you want to remember or desperately want to forget. There’s souls in there too, deep, towards the bottom, where the dead rest in blissful stasis and sleep. It’s a place to start anew, and it’s a place to let yourself be washed elsewhere, and the boats on the surface are always full with wares. What have you come to gain? What are you willing to give up?

A slow-moving, meandering river that cuts through the Torn Veil, glittering with small specks of glowing light. Undead who have felt the years begin to deteriorate their mind are often found by the riverbanks, as drinking the water helps to restore their memories and overall clarity. The living can step into the river, but prolonged exposure tends to whisk memories away instead of restoring them. Many long, flat boats are also set up along the riverbanks, crewed by landfolk, while ghostly aquatic merchants barter for strange goods from within the river.

The Farmland

Growth

It’s the only part of the city that’s quiet, because it’s not within the city proper. The plants here are stubborn. So are the people, in fact. You have to be, to put down roots and force cellular production in a place with no light, to coax strange soil and stranger water to make something live in a place of death. It’s not calm out there, it’s feral, it’s almost spiteful, a metaphorical defiant ‘I will do it anyways’ to anyone who listens. Yet, despite it all, things grow. And they are tended to largely by the dead. Yet, despite it all. Things grow.

#the torn veil #my writing #long post

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capsensislagamoprh · 24 days

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CHA 3

“When you said I could come along, I didn’t know I would be carrying your gear and moving lights,” Victor groused.

“How else was I supposed to get you in,” Christophe grinned. “It’s not like anyone can just wander on and off the set.”

“Outdoor setting is a location, not a set,” Victor mumbled, trying to be right about something. His morning had been pretty basic. Rise. Skin care, hair care. Two hours - one for each. Beauty is upkeep! Dressing, forty five minutes. One must accessorize properly! His look doesn't just create itself! Then breakfast of a decadent croissant from the most delightful bakery by the apartment, washed down with a vanilla latte`. Christoph washed his pastry down with rooibos, sturing in a touch of honey to sweeten it up. They then got into the Miata and drove. Today’s shoot was for children’s clothes, taking advantage of the whimsical nature of Paris’ many highlights. Wrot iron, the Eiffel Tower, Lurve, streets made of old stone, and niche locations. All within a few blocks of each other whenever possible.

It was an interesting side of the fashion world. Most were concerned with avant garde, couture, or stage costumes for high end productions. Victor wanted to see his designs out there, making people feel beautiful, special, even on the worst days. He wanted someone to reach into their wardrobe, pull out that one special piece and know the feel of it on their body would get them through the roughest day because they knew they were not only comfortable, but fashionable. There was just something about how the touch of cashmere or the pull of silk could change the way one thinks. But first he had to pay his dues.

Christophe had some of the best assistants twitching lighting, fixing props, lining up markers. Paris itself seemed to adjust to him. Crowds dissipated, birds flew at artful angels, and the sun kissed just the right part of every model. Victor was amazed by the way he managed to walk casually through any scene, clicking his camera until the city noises were overwritten by the sound of another moment being captured in time. They looked over the shots between changes of clothes and models, keeping the children busy so as to avoid boredom and antsy guardians.

The street-wear line was fun, playful, full of youthful vigor. When they changed over to the more elegant, formal designs, the models did too. Dark haired girls with luminous eyes, boys with elegant cuts mocking adult slide backs, slick at the sides and tapered to look upscale. Accessories changed to watches that were less Swatch and more metallic. Some seemed to be casually dressed as tinny ideals, while others were fantastical. Few stood out, being nervous or a little too full of themselves.

Christophe watched the world through his lens, waiting to strike. Victor saw a few potential stars starting to shine, caught in the flair of his lens, but only one seemed to carry that shimmering quality that would take them from childhood through the cruelty of puberty and into adulthood with all their beauty intact. A fairy-like boy, very young and very serious. When asked to turn, he turned. When asked to be whimsical, he stood tall, arms stretched to the sky before doing a jeté with ease. He leaned against a lamp post, the billowing sleeves of his cooler colored shirt, polka dotted with puffs of thread a sheer overlay for the thin undershirt pressed into his thin frame, white shorts cut in an arch at the thigh, white tights tucked into ballet flats. His golden hair picked up the echoes of sunset as he looked towards the Tower. Victor could almost see the fairy wings that were not there. Christophe must have seen it too. He took more pictures of the boy in his many outfits than the others. He just pulled them off better, seeming to look at home in anything they threw at him. The casual play line clothes earlier were tried on him. As he darted about the darkening streets, arms thrown behind him in a playful run, eyes to the sky, his smile just a little melancholic, Victor felt what Christophe saw. Ethereal took a lot of work, but when you came across it naturally, you worked with it until it could do no more.

The boy wore what was asked, changed as many times as needed. He went through hair style after hair style, make-up touches, and did not complain when he received little to no break for four hours of grueling activity. But those smiles. Those melancholic smiles. No filter in the world could make that smile true.

As they were wrapping up for the day, Christoph looked over the stills, picking and choosing with rapid efficiency. As he stretched his aching back, he turned to see how the clean up was going. The boy was crouched down, hand low, a street cat slowly approaching. Quickly he snapped some candids. These would be great for his school portfolio. He didn’t even need a release, as anything he took while working was free game, and since the boy was still wearing the hair and make up style from the last shoot, he figured that counted.

Soon, the boy was picked up. Christophe turned back to the dailies, while Victor stared for a moment. “I could get used to living here,” he sighed as the man in the ass hugging jeans took the boy's hand, leading him to a silver Lexus. Popping his head up, Christophe smiled.

“Ah, Paris! De tels trésors abondent dans la ville de l'amour.”

“I don’t know about l’amour, but definitely… how to say, strast'?” Victor tapped his temple a few times. “Passion!”

“There’s passion and there’s lasciveté. What you have, mon ami, is a need to release.”

Victor raised a brow, his lips twitching into a smile. “You can’t blame me for looking.”

“Can’t I?” Christophe purred.

“Heartless tease.”

_______

CHA 4

They sat together looking over stills, images caressed by just the right amount of light and ones born of miserable reflections captured in lens flares and ill timed background elements. “You could adjust them,” Victor offered quietly.

Christophe looked scandalized. “I will do no such thing. When making some elements it is fine, the amount of adjustment these images will need? Non. When creating art it is never a good idea to bring dishonesty to your piece. The human can tell, even if they don’t know what the lie is.”

Leaning against the wall in the antechamber between his bedroom and the bath, he sighed. “It’s not that hard, right? You have the skill, da?”

“I have the skill, but correcting these is … It’s like seeing a blurry, pixelated Monet and asking a toddler to make it better. You can’t replicate that look of melancholy, the way the sun caught his hair, the way the clothes seemed to float around him. I’m telling you, Vita, that kid is magic. There’s something about him.” Christophe threw himself backwards in his chair, sending both it and him sliding back a few feet. “Something special, and I almost captured it.”

“Comrad, you have so many other images of him. Look, in this one he’s even smiling.”

“It’s plastic, Vita. Can’t you see it? Here.” Christophe pulled himself back towards the computer. “Look at how there is no light in his eyes. Too many teeth, shoulders are tense.”

“You see all that?” Victor looked again, trying to find the signs the photographer noted. To him the child looked happy, well dressed and fed, other children surrounding him just as pleasant and cheerful. He saw children playing a game with chalked out squares and a rock. It seemed like the kind of thing all advertisers ached for. An air of youthful relevance combined with age old money. It practically commanded people to buy what was shown without being too obvious about it. At least not until the company plastered their brand on the page with a massive scrawl across the pleasant scene.

“I do. I see a lot of things through the lens. A lot of very secret things.”

“Voyeur.”

Christophe smiled. “Have you considered using those exceptional skills at flattery on that man with the tight ass?”

Victor blinked, his blue eyes vacant as he tried to recall who Christophe was talking about. When he remembered his cheeks turned pink, his eyes sparkling. “If he shows up again, I just might.”

“Flirt.”

Victor gasped. “You? Call me a flirt?” He grinned. “Flatterer.”

A deep chuckle mingled with the light, airy sounds of laughter as they felt tension leave them with the faint breath of gentle comradery. Finally, Christophe turned from the computer, having saved the files, ready to take them in the next day for approval and printing. “So,” he smiled, deep burr fairly purring the word, “What plans do you have for the evening?”

“Dinner, I suppose. I should work on that desk, and I need to get some more boxes unpacked…” Victor sighed. “I need to put together my start of semester portfolio.”

“Victor! You should already have that completed,” Christophe chided.

“I did, but then I moved, and I didn’t want things ruined, so I …” A vague gesture to the many tubes and flat pack boxes with reinforced edges stacked in various piles gave depth to the weight of the problem. “Now I have to find everything again.”

“Oh, min vän. You start sorting this,” Christophe stood, wiggling his fingers at the daunting task, “and I’ll order something. We can make a night of it.”

Victor’s shoulders dropped as his knees bent back. “Must we?”

“Min kärlek, vi måste. There is no time like last week. Today will have to do.” Slipping through the door to the bathroom, disappearing through another, the tall blond was off, leaving Victor to stare down the many packages wanting his attention.

By the time Christophe returned with lobster bisque, fresh salad, and the crispiest chunks of crackling bread Victor had the privilege to break diet for, he was more than ready for the wine that accompanied it. He’d found several of his more necessary sketches wrinkled by box shift during the move. A few of his fabrics were naked, ripped, or had holes that made it very clear what postal thought of the extra money he’d paid to have them expressed and marked ‘KHRUPKIY’. All those rubbles down the proverbial drain.

“Oh, Victor. These photos. Did you mean for them to be so…” Christophe tried not to wrinkle his nose, he really did. Victor looked over sharply.

“Oh! Oh no! Net! Net, no, no, net, no!” Victor slipped between English and Russian in his frustration. The whole album was sticky, as if someone had spilt a sugar drink, carelessly pushing the package along without a care. His hands found his hairline, tugging great tufts of silver pale locks. His whole fashion line from his previous collections was represented in those photos. Photos he would need for his classes, for reference, for the memories. “Christophe! Chris, comrade! Can they be saved?”

The Swedish man winced as he tried to unstick a few pages. Looking at the box of supplies they’d found earlier, Christophe rummaged until he found the pressure blade he’d spied earlier. Carefully he cut the picture free of its sheath, only for it to make a puckering, Velcro sound that caused every fiber of his being to shiver in distaste. Catching the pale cheeked face of his friend, his blue eyes so wide with the edge of desperation and hope, Christophe braced himself. Turning the photo to the light, the damage was clear. Colors peeled off, micro tears deformed some of the image. It was coated in what smelled like cola, which was clearly eating into the integrity of the paper. Victor’s throat dropped to his thighs, hands slack at his side. “What am I going to do?”

These photos were useless now. He’d not been able to get the originals, only prints. The photographer he’d worked with had refused to give up his claim, wanting exorbitant amounts of money Victor simply didn’t have. Someone’s carelessness cost him over a fourth of his portfolio.

“Do you still have the clothes?” Christophe asked, looking at the many unpacked boxes.

“I … yes, most of them. Some were sold to pay for my travel.”

“Bien. Here is what we’re going to do…”

cha 1&2

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visit-new-york · 1 year

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The Mall

Here are a few attractions and activities associated with the Central Park Mall:

Horse-Drawn Carriages: Visitors can often spot horse-drawn carriages offering rides along The Mall and other parts of Central Park. It's a charming and nostalgic way to explore the park while taking in the scenic beauty.

Public Art Installations: Central Park frequently hosts temporary art installations, and The Mall is no exception. These installations can include sculptures, art exhibitions, and interactive displays, adding an artistic dimension to the natural surroundings.

Cherry Blossom Season: In the spring, The Mall is a popular spot to admire the blooming cherry blossoms that line the pathway. The delicate pink and white blossoms create a stunning contrast against the green canopy of elm trees.

Wedding Photography: The Mall is a favorite location for wedding photography. Couples often choose this spot for its romantic ambiance and picturesque setting, with the tree-lined path providing a dreamy backdrop for their wedding photos.

Historical Lamp Posts: The Mall features distinctive cast-iron lamp posts with decorative scrollwork. These historic lamp posts contribute to the park's old-world charm and are especially enchanting when illuminated at night.

Birdwatching: Central Park is a haven for birdwatchers, and The Mall is no exception. The combination of trees and open space attracts a variety of bird species, making it an excellent spot for birdwatching.

Summer Performances: During the summer months, The Mall often hosts outdoor performances, including concerts, theater productions, and dance recitals. These events are a delightful way to enjoy culture in a natural setting.

Community and Social Gatherings: The Mall is a gathering place for various community and social activities. From picnics to group yoga sessions, it's a space where people come together to enjoy the outdoors and connect with one another.

Fall Foliage: In the fall, The Mall transforms into a canvas of vibrant autumn colors as the elm trees change their leaves. The sight of golden, orange, and red foliage makes it a must-visit destination for leaf peepers.

Quiet Reflection: Amidst the activities and events, The Mall also offers moments of quiet reflection. Many visitors come here to find solitude, read a book, or simply enjoy a peaceful pause from the demands of city life.

Accessibility: The Mall is wheelchair and stroller accessible, making it a welcoming space for visitors of all mobility levels. Its wide, paved pathway allows for easy navigation.

Winter Village: During the holiday season, Central Park often sets up a Winter Village near The Mall. This festive area includes an ice-skating rink, holiday market, and seasonal decorations, adding to the charm and festivity of the park during wintertime.

Educational Opportunities: The Mall's natural setting and historical significance provide opportunities for educational programs and guided tours. Visitors can learn about the park's history, ecology, and the significance of its design.

A Venue for Proposals: The Mall's romantic atmosphere and beautiful surroundings make it a popular spot for marriage proposals. Many couples choose this location to pop the question, creating lasting memories amid the natural beauty.

Historical Preservation: The Central Park Conservancy and other organizations are dedicated to the preservation and maintenance of The Mall and its surroundings. Their efforts ensure that this iconic feature remains a captivating destination for generations to come.

Artistic Inspiration: Artists and writers have long been drawn to The Mall for its inspirational setting. Many have found creative inspiration while sketching, painting, or writing beneath the canopy of trees.

Cross-Cultural Appeal: The Mall's design and ambiance transcend cultural boundaries, making it a beloved place for people from diverse backgrounds to appreciate nature and find solace in a bustling city.

Central Park Tours: Various guided tours of Central Park include stops at The Mall, providing participants with insights into the park's history, design, and natural elements.

Iconic Views: As you stroll down The Mall, you'll encounter several vantage points that offer stunning views of Central Park's landscapes, including the picturesque Bethesda Terrace and the Central Park Lake.

Recreation Opportunities: Beyond leisurely strolls, The Mall provides space for activities such as frisbee, yoga, and picnicking. It's a versatile location where visitors can engage in a wide range of recreational pursuits.

The Mall in Central Park continues to be a beloved and ever-evolving destination within this iconic urban park. Its ability to offer a unique experience in each season and its appeal to a broad range of interests make it a cherished and enduring part of the Central Park experience. Whether you're seeking natural beauty, cultural enrichment, or a tranquil escape, The Mall delivers an enchanting experience in the heart of New York City.

In conclusion, The Mall in Central Park is a multifaceted destination that caters to a wide range of interests and experiences. Its natural beauty, cultural significance, and seasonal transformations make it a beloved and enduring part of Central Park's charm, providing both New Yorkers and visitors with a tranquil and enchanting urban escape.

#The Mall #New York City #new york #newyork #New-York #nyc #NY #manhattan #urban #city #USA #buildings #visit-new-york.tumblr.com #Central Park

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gurugirl · 2 years

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The House Maid Chapter 7*

Summary: Daisy and Harry both work at the Archer House and don't quite see eye to eye when they first meet. Eventually, they can't resist one another and start a risky relationship that could have them both jobless. However, when jealousy and insecurities set in, things get ugly for the young lovers.

AN/Warning: I will have a * by the parts when smut is included. This warning list is comprehensive for all parts, not all contain smut or listed warnings. NSFW, smut, oral (male and female), 18+ only (as always), angst. I did a tiny bit of research on this time period (1915-1925 in the UK) and this is what resulted. If I get some historical stuff wrong it's because I'm not an expert on the genre/era (sorry).

Pairing: 1920s era House Maid Daisy x Groundskeeper Harry

(nearly 10k words of pure smutty filth. enjoy)

Chapter 6

Chapter 7*

Harry looked around Daisy’s small room and could see that she had collected some interesting items. She had a record player and a small collection of records, a small wooden vanity with a long mirror leaned on top toward the wall upon which sat various glass bottles and pots of beauty products, as well as a hair brush, and pins for her hair, she had colorful quilts folded inside of an open chest that sat in the corner of her room, a thin brown wool rug sat under her small white iron frame twin bed which was in the very center of the room against the wall; there was a white painted armoire with a small mirror inlayed into one of the doors, which sat in the opposite corner from the chest, a small window with white curtains was on the wall between the armoire and the chest, and underneath it was a small, homemade looking bookshelf filled with books of all kinds, and on top of the bookshelf was a candle holder, a red doily (most like the red item Harry could see from the alley) and a metal box with a lock; next to her bed, on the side closest to the window, was a side-table with an oil lamp, another candle holder, sat upon another red doily, and next to that a book underneath a pink glass pot of cream or powder, and finally, a large jug of red wine sat on the floor next to her bed. He noted she had no art or pictures hung on her walls. She didn’t have much but what she did have seemed to be of good quality and he was impressed that she had a music player along with so many books.

“Eager to see me, then, kitten?” He licked his lips and watched as she rolled her eyes and moved away from him to walk toward her bed to pick up the bottle of wine. She took a small swig and sat down on her bed making the frame squeak under her weight. He observed her fresh face and glowing skin as well as her thin yellow dress that really showed the shape of her body in the way her work dress did not.

“Asks the man who just walked in the dark for almost an hour to come and see me. I’d say you’re the eager one here, Harry.” She laughed to herself, keeping eye contact with him. He looked so strong, even with his coveralls on. She’d seen him naked on Connie’s bed that morning but now she’d be seeing him up close and she was feeling quite needy after she got a taste of him that morning. He had stretched her out in such a delicious way that she could feel him with her all day.

Harry smiled widely and chuckled as he walked across the room to sit next to Daisy on her bed. Daisy’s bed was not as soft or big as Connie’s but he was already so much more excited to be here with Daisy and they hadn’t even gotten down to it yet. “Says the lady who watched me get sucked off by another woman this morning and then was so desperate she masturbated to the scene in the tiny powder room right before begging for my cock.” Daisy gasped. She was not sensitive to things to do with sex, and she was far from a prude but his remarks about him being with Connie did make her feel a twinge of shame about herself. She did seem desperate, didn’t she? He had just been with Connie prior to coming to Daisy. And even if he said he left Connie after that because he couldn’t orgasm and preferred to finish with Daisy it was still not ideal. Daisy looked down to the bottle of wine trying to think about what to say or if she should continue with this or not.

Harry noticed her quick change in demeanor and realized he might have pushed it with that remark but he was the desperate one really. He was desperate for her to understand that he was excited to be with her and no one else. He hadn’t been so eager to be with a woman in a long time. Harry let out a sigh and turned to Daisy, bringing his palm up to her chin to nudge her face toward him so he could look at her when he spoke, “I apologize for bringing that up. I didn’t mean to sound insensitive but the truth is that I am truly the desperate one here. You’re right. I haven’t been so excited to see a woman in some time. I haven’t stopped thinking about you. Did I ruin this?” He looked concerned with his forehead scrunched and his frown lines apparent. Daisy was taken aback by his confession of being excited to see her and admitting to being desperate. She couldn’t help the smile that appeared on her face.

Daisy shook her head, “No. You didn’t ruin anything thanks to your admission of desperation.” She lifted the jug of wine toward Harry in offering and he took it with a smile, feeling relieved she hadn’t kicked him out yet. His mouth got him into trouble often and it wouldn’t have been the first time to be denied coitus simply because he spoke out of turn.

After Harry took a large gulp of the wine Daisy got up from the bed and put a record on. He watched as her back was to him. Daisy was maybe the prettiest woman he’d ever lain eyes on. He had never been picky when it came to having someone in his bed but he surely had a preference and Daisy ticked all his boxes. He couldn’t wait to see her bare before him. Her hips were round and soft looking, her ankles were slim, her bosom was full and he just knew he’d have a good time groping each breast and paying them special attention. Her neck was long and slender and her face was heaven. Her voice was soft but she was intelligent, quick witted, and entertaining. And best of all, she didn’t seem like a stuck up prude like he originally thought. Well, given the fact that she let him fuck her in the powder room this morning, he’d say he’d had it wrong all along.

Daisy walked back to the bed and sat down but this time her thighs brushed against Harry’s and his heart rate picked up in anticipation. Daisy grabbed the wine jug and brought it up to her pretty, full lips and took a sip. Harry couldn’t take his eyes off her. She was an angel from heaven with a naughty streak.

“I have other records if this one doesn’t suit you. Feel free to look through them. Also, if you need the bathroom it’s a floor below. I’ll need to be the lookout for my roommates but it shouldn’t be an issue. And if you’re hungry…” Harry interrupted with a wide smile and pink cheeks, “No need, Daisy. I may be hungry later but that’s the last thing on my mind at the moment. Would you like me to clean up? I hadn’t had the chance before leaving the Archer House (he wanted to tell her it was because he was in a hurry to avoid Connie but he’d let that wait til later). I apologize that I must smell like a hog.” He laughed and Daisy decided she loved the sound of his laughter and how his dimple appeared when he had a genuine smile upon his face. In fact, Daisy also liked how he smelled. A lot. Everything about Harry was a turn on, including the way his sweat smelled.

“You smell like you’ve worked hard, and like the outdoors. I kind of find myself enjoying your scent. If you feel better to clean up, though, I’ll be happy to escort you to the bathroom, but do not think it’s necessary on my behalf.” Daisy placed her small hand over Harry’s thigh. They were sat so close now. She kind of thought Harry would arrive and immediately want to have sex with her but he’s been patient and she wondered if it was due to nerves. Daisy sat the wine bottle down onto the floor.

Harry enjoyed the feel of Daisy so close. Her warm hand upon his thigh and her own thighs brushing against his. And she didn’t care about his smell because she found it attractive. He couldn’t help himself when he finally leaned in to kiss her lips, taking her face into his hands and drawing her in to him. Softly, his lips touched hers at first. Then when Daisy turned her body into him further and brought her hands up to the nape of his neck he deepened the kiss. Using his tongue he entered her mouth and she responded by opening her mouth to him and bringing her tongue into his. This was the kind of kiss Daisy had always dreamed of. A passionate and burning kiss that stole her breath away. Harry moaned and brought his hands lower to her waste to pull her even closer. Daisy gasped as she was knocked off balance by Harry’s quick movement when he pulled her into his lap. She sat, straddling Harry’s him as they never parted from the kiss. Harry moved back on the bed a bit to give Daisy more access to be placed comfortably on his thighs. Harry brought his large hands down to her ass and squeezed at her clothed flesh. Daisy moaned and crawled closer to him so their centers could be only separated by their clothing. Only when they’d both kissed until they were gasping for air did they finally part. Daisy sucked in a gulp of air as Harry brought his lips over Daisy’s jaw and then to her neck where he peppered open mouthed kisses and lightly sucked. Daisy was in ecstasy and they hadn’t yet removed any clothes. She could feel him hardening underneath her and his bulk reminded her of her own arousal, surely she was starting to become wet. She shifted her hips so her pelvis was rubbing at his cock and Harry grunted out a curse.

“Fuck, kitten. Your skin is so soft and you smell so good. I’m dying to see more of you.” He slid his hands up from her ass to her ribs and waste and dipped his head down to kiss at her collar bone. Daisy whimpered at the feeling of his warm breath on her skin and his lips lightly move from one side to the other.

Daisy shifted herself back and lifted her hips to pull at the dress and bring it over her thighs so her legs were bare and visible. Harry lifted his head and his mouth parted as he watched as she pulled the dress up. The fabric was bunched over the very tops of her thighs so only the bottom half of Daisy’s thighs and legs were visible. His hands quickly found her thighs and he lightly caressed the soft skin watching as goosebumps appeared over her flesh under his touch. He slowly moved his hands over Daisy’s bent knees, down to her calf, and over her ankles, still watching as his hands created small goosebumps in their path. He looked up into her eyes after feeling her soft, smooth legs and brought his rough hands back up to her thighs, slipping them just under the fabric. His brows knitted and forehead creased with furtive look turning to hunger. His smile and playfulness gone as he stared into her eyes and his hands softly squeezed at the fleshy thighs. Daisy stared back at him waiting for his next move, her hands lowered to over his strong, broad chest. With caution she began to unbutton his shirt and as she did, purposely brushing her fingers over his hot skin.

“More.” He directed, no smile in sight. He wanted to see more of Daisy even. She knew what she was doing as she continued slowly undoing his shirt buttons, all while lightly moving her hips, brushing herself over his pants covered rigidness. He groaned when she didn’t make a move to rise the dress any further so he splayed his hands out further under her dress and over Daisy’s ass and found immediately she hadn’t had on any knickers at all (in anticipation of Harry’s arrival of course). Harry’s eyes widened and he gulped thickly when he realized her indiscretion. She gave him a shy smile and suddenly he brought his hands away from her ass and up to her wrists, yanking them down, away from his body. Now it was Daisy’s turn to gasp in shock with eyes widened at the sudden change of mood.

“I asked to see more and you’re kind of being naughty, kitten. I. Need. More. I said.” Harry pushed Daisy down on to the bed behind her causing the mattress to creak under her body as she fell backwards off of his lap. Harry shuffled himself so he was on his knees as he spread Daisy’s legs apart to get a good look. He was fuming and his expression hardened when he took in the site of her beautiful pussy. Harry licked his lips to moisten them and then peered back up to Daisy’s face as she was already watching him, her mouth parted in expectation of what he was to do next.

Harry smoothed his hands up further over her inner thighs until he came just to the spot over her hips, just missing her cunt altogether. On purpose. He could see how shiny her labia was, already dripping for him. He was going to ruin her tonight. She would become his and he was going to take his time. Even if they both stayed up all night long and were tired at work tomorrow it would be worth it. Harry was obsessed with Daisy now that he’d had her this morning and tonight would close the deal for him and he hoped for her.

Harry leaned down and began to kiss over her thigh, upwards towards her softest, warmest spot, then he moved to her other thigh, kissing his way up, but never putting his mouth where he truly wanted. Not yet. He sat back again and grasped the yellow fabric in his hands to pull at the dress again, “Get it off now.” He stood from the bed and made to finish undoing his buttons and unbuckled his trousers for some relief of the tightness in the fabric over his crotch. He kept eye contact with her to make sure she complied and she did, quickly so. She squirmed to a seated position and undid a couple of the buttons that kept the dress in place at the top and brought the fabric over her head now exposing herself to him completely. She had nothing on underneath and Harry couldn’t have been happier than in that moment. Realizing she didn’t need to remove layer after layer as was the norm with women’s dress. His naughty girl was ready for him. His mouth watered at the sight of her. She was perfect and all his. Her pink little nipples were hard and her breasts were large and soft. Her tummy was a little chubby but she was curvy and her hips were wider than her waste. Her legs were soft and smooth and creamy. The hair on her cunt and pubic bone was sparse and blond. She had some freckles on her shoulders from the sun. Her arms were soft and dainty. He was going to eat her from top to bottom.

Daisy watched Harry as he took her in and he slowly pulled his shirt off. She was aware that men loved her body. She was chubby in all the right spots with great genes. But Harry. His body was that of a god. He was tall and broad with strong muscles that could handle her how she needed. Harry would be fit to take her properly. Harry nearly leapt onto the bed and hovered over Daisy smoothing his lips over hers, moaning into her mouth and saying words she couldn’t keep up with. His presence was overwhelming, as it had been from the first time she met him. He groped at her breasts and drew himself away from her mouth to kiss her left nipple while continuing to massage and squeeze at her right breast. He wrapped his mouth over her nipple and sucked and kissed at her breast and hardened nub as she moaned out his name, her hands coming down to the back of his head, his hair in between her fingers. When Harry moved his mouth to her other breast it was the same heavenly treatment again. A little nibble made her yelp in pleasure. Goosebumps covered her bare body. It was chilly in the room but she couldn’t care about it. Her nipples now wet with Harry’s saliva were each kissed once more before he made his way down to her under breast, licking, kissing and sucking, down, down, down. At her bellybutton he dipped his tongue in and she moaned again and lifted her hips on instinct as he was getting closer to her sopping vagina. He kissed around her belly and brought his hands over her hips and kissed at her hip bones and over the tops of her thighs before stopping and gazing at her for a moment, “I am going to enjoy this little snack,” he said as he placed two fingers over her wetness and she whined at the feeling of him slipping them up and down her folds, “… am kind of hungry after all. You’re just going to need to keep quiet since your roommates might hear, yeah? I’m not going to stop eating until you’ve come in my mouth. Need to taste you…” his eyes wandered back down to her cunt as he watched his fingers dip into her folds, spreading her slicked lips apart. He inspected closely as he founds his fingers gliding over her clit and she gasped and squirmed. With a smug smile he looked back up to her with eyebrows raised, almost as if asking her if she had a problem with what he’d just said. He slipped two fingers into her cunt and watched her face as he searched for her magic spots with his fingers. He parted his lips and studied her reaction and when she cried out his name quietly and bucked her pelvis upward. Bingo. He lowered his mouth over her clit and began gently sucking at first while he made good work of his long, thick fingers. Daisy was gasping and sighing out, trying her hardest to be quiet. The sounds coming from Daisy’s room were obvious. From outside of the door one could maybe hear the occasional moan or squeak coming from Daisy, and definitely the unsteady screeching of the noisy bed frame. If her roommates stayed in their rooms perhaps they would be none the wiser. Now, if Daisy’s door had been open they’d have heard all the little peeps and gasps she was making; the sound of Harry groaning and sucking at her wetness; the squelch of his fingers pushing into her softest spot as his drenched fingers and knuckles worked her pussy right. It was a glorious sound to Harry. He was so turned on it hurt. He lowered his hips down to the mattress for a bit of relief but wouldn’t let up in giving her head. He needed her to come once before he could feel the relief of his cock being squeezed by her pussy. He wanted to show her what he could do.

Harry lifted his head for a moment, continuing to thumb over her clit and work his two longest fingers into her, “You make a delicious snack, kitten. I don’t know if I can ever go without now that I’ve had a taste.” Daisy was almost gone. Her ribs were melting, her thighs were hot lava, white stars and floating cotton came into her vision. Her pussy was aching in the best way at his assault on her. She could feel her chest and heart nearly catch fire. Harry returned his mouth to around her clit and sucked and nibbled and licked, moving his face back and forth in quick motion as he groaned deeply and that was it. Daisy no longer had the wherewithal to keep her noises to a minimum. “Right there! YES! Oh god Harry… Harry! HARRY!!” She groaned out and cried Harry’s name. She gasped air into her lungs and a high-pitched sound fell from her lips as she thrashed about while Harry held her hip and thigh down with the hand not working her cunt. Her breathy moans were quite loud and more moan than breath. Harry continued sucking and licking softly over her clit as she came down from her orgasm, his slick fingers gently pumping into her. After some moments, the screech of the bed stopped as Daisy calmed and she slowly returned to life.

If her roommates were home they likely would have heard that but it didn’t bother Harry. He was too focused on this beautiful, spicy flower of a woman laying in a puddle of limp limbs, and soft gasps below him. She was a dream and he was going to have her. Make her his. His Daisy. His kitten.

Daisy stared at Harry lovingly as the ringing in her ears dissolved, her chest heaving less violently. Harry was a man who could handle her. He was a man who liked to get a little dirty. He was a man that was just as eager as her and he needed no direction on how to do things right. He took his time and he figured her out, like a map he’d just studied. She’d never had anyone do that so well. He was really good at what he just did and now, she didn’t know if she could go without.

With pink cheeks and flushed chest, Daisy sat up onto her elbows and bit her bottom lip. Harry’s attention was on Daisy fully. He watched the look on her face and his ego was enlarged. She loved it. She fucking loved it. “Harry… that was...” Harry chuckled lightly as he leaned in and kissed her lips. His face was still a little wet from her arousal but she was fervent to have his lips on hers again. Not only was he good at giving head, he kissed like an angel. His mouth and her mouth moved in sync as she tasted herself upon his tongue. Their kissing became hot and rough as Harry dragged his trousers down his legs finally. He knelt on the bed over Daisy still kissing her and pulled her down to him by her thighs. She slid down her sheets, her elbows giving way as her back hit the mattress with Harry’s large hands pawing at her thighs and their hot cores pressing together once Harry pulled her close enough to him. Daisy looked down to see Harry’s hardon was completely ready to be pushed into her tight hole. His cock was long and thick and her pussy swooned at the excitement of getting to feel him once again.

“Darling, I’m going to fuck you now and you’ll come again. Okay?” Harry drawled, sounding a little drunk but he’d only had one drink of wine. It was Daisy that had him inebriated. He was about to press into her again and it had his dick twitching and his balls swelling with come at the notion. Daisy nodded enthusiastically and she grabbed at one of his forearms which held onto her thigh as he moved to position himself at her entrance. She squeezed her eyes shut in anticipation of his length hitting inside of her in this position – she knew he’d be impossibly deep and she was already quivering with excitement.

“Kitten, open your eyes. Look at me when I enter you.” He breathed out thickly. Daisy obeyed immediately to see his eyes on hers already. His pupils were completely dilated and his nostrils were flared. “Baby this is going to feel like heaven now that I have room to do to you what I wanted.” God he was good. His sensual tone and cocksure attitude weren't just for show. Harry could deliver on his promises, he'd earned his cockiness.

Daisy’s jaw went slack as he slowly entered her. His bulbous head was the hardest part to get through her opening, just as it was in the Archer’s powder room, but now, as Harry pushed in excruciatingly slow, Daisy could feel him properly and how he opened her up deliciously. He drove the rest of his length as far as it would reach and expected that he’d need to work her some more to bottom out. He’d have to thrust in and out for a bit and she’d open up for him even more. Harry loved watching his cock disappear into her wet little cunt. Daisy’s mouth was agape. She couldn’t even make a sound as she felt his thickness filling her. Each time he pulled back he brought himself almost completely out before driving back into her at a healthy pace. Finally, Daisy gasped when he angled his hips upward and he bottomed out, his balls fitting snug against her ass. Daisy’s eyes were still on Harry but she was having a hard time keeping her vision straight as he fucked into her, filling her to the brim. She could feel her eyes crossing – he was fucking her so good that her eyes were rolling around but she fought it to keep her eyes on him. Her moans grew louder as she became completely comfortable with the size of him. Harry started grunting and moaning as he saw her face contort – he knew she was enjoying it just as much, if not more than him.

“Kitten, does that feel good? Fuck… That sounds like it feels really good.” He was referring to her mewls and gasps and chants of utter nonsense, as well as the wet sounds coming from their bodies. The slick sound of his cock pumping in and out of her wet hole, the sound of wet thighs smacking together, the thud of his arousal dampened balls smacking into her ass. The steady creak of the bed under them as he shifted himself back and forth, fucking deep into her in a solid rhythm. She was dripping down her thighs and onto her mattress and everything was so erotic.

Harry hastened his pace a bit. With each push of his dick into her cunt it was a shocking and amazing sensation for Daisy. She could feel him enter far into her. His cock pressed into all of her sweet spots and with Harry’s relentless pace each of those sweet spots was being rubbed and poked at a luscious speed that had her losing her mind for him. Harry’s unremitting thrusts caused the bed to creak and groan with each move of his hips forward. Daisy, still holding onto Harry’s forearm with one hand and balling up her sheets with the other was being rocked with the force, her tits bouncing and swaying. Harry felt dizzy looking at her. She was perfect for him. He could be inside of her all the time and never get tired of it. The sounds she was making, her expressions. Heaven. Harry pulled her leg over his bum, while her other leg she used for leverage to lift her hips in pace with Harry’s thrusts was splayed out and bent up to their side.

Harry leaned down and began to kiss Daisy. He was inside of her so deep and she felt so good around his cock. He wasn’t normally the type to kiss while fucking but Daisy was so adorable with her golden hair falling around her head, the pins coming undone, strands straying over her face. He needed to kiss her sweet lips while he was thrusting into her. The feeling of his cock inside of her and his lips on her lips was sensual and he nearly came at that very moment so he pulled back and stopped the movement of his hips completely.

Daisy smiled up at Harry and gasped for breath with the small reprieve. She moved her hips back and forth a little before Harry held her down with both hands to stop her from moving, “Daisy, I need… hold on. I don’t want to come before you do. Fuck. You feel so good. I just need a moment.” Harry looked down at where they were both connected, the shiny bit of his shaft not inside of her, Daisy’s pink little pussy shiny and wrapped around his cock - he squeezed his eyes shut. That was not the thing to look at in that very moment. He tried to think of anything unsexy that could calm him down but it was so hard when he had Daisy with her leg over his bum and he was balls deep in her warm, creamy pussy.

Daisy giggled a little and squeezed her cunt around his cock in defiance. Harry shot his eyes open and gave her warning look before pulling out of her completely. He lightly swatted at her thigh as he moved her leg from off of him, “I told you I needed a moment. Don’t act like an unpleasant child or I’ll have to punish you.” He smirked at her. He enjoyed this back and forth with her and Daisy was even more turned on with his words. She sat up and smiled sweetly at the gorgeous man before her, with his cock glistening and his hair matted and strewn about, dark curls hanging over his face, strong muscles from his chest and arms, down his stomach and even his thick muscular thighs. This was the best sex she’d ever had so far and his penis was astounding. She also happened to be having a lot of fun with him. He was exciting.

“And what if I am simply an unpleasant child all the time. Are you just going to stop fucking me?” She started to laugh but was cut short when Harry grasped her hips harder and flipped her over to face the mattress. He slapped her butt cheek and then the other and growled into her ear as he leaned over her, “I wouldn’t dream of not fucking you but I will make you wish you were a good girl for me all the time. You want to know what I’ll do to you, kitten?” He leaned back and swatted at her outer thigh and then at the other. Then he landed his wide, rough palm over her ass again, and then again but with a sting that had her yelp out and jump at the feeling.

Daisy turned her head to peer at him behind her, “What will you do to me, Daddy?” She simpered at the name she’d called him. She could see he liked it when his jaw tightened and the shadow of a smirk drew up on his lips. He leaned back down over her back and she could feel his cock plop onto her low back in a heavy thump. He spoke in a whisper, his warm breath over her ear, his arms on either side of her shoulders caging her in, “I won’t let you come until you’re a good girl for me. I’ll fuck into you and pull out just as your about to come and I’ll do it over and over again all night until you apologize and behave.”

Daisy laughed and rolled her eyes (which luckily for her Harry couldn’t see as she was face down into the mattress), “That sounds wonderful to me. I can just finish myself off anyway with my own hands. I actually don’t even need…” Daisy’s words were cut off once again with a sharp smack to her ass. Harry watched as her cheeks were both red and the outline of his hand appeared on both sides, making him smile. He could tell that she liked this game but so did he. Harry leaned over to grasp at his belt on the floor and roughly grabbed Daisy’s hands, wrapping her wrists in the leather and securing her arms behind her back.

“Now how will you finish yourself, hmm? Daddy’s the only one who gets the pleasure of making you come when he’s around. Are you ready to apologize young lady?” He tugged at the belt around her writs ensuring it was secure for what he wanted. He didn’t truly intend to keep her this way but she hadn’t protested once and with the way she was rocking her hips and ass up to rub at his cock which laid over her back, he could tell she was still turned on and wanting him to fuck her out of her misery.

Daisy groaned, the side of her face pressed into the mattress. She had never been in this position and she was already in love and he hadn’t even entered her like this yet. She didn’t know what his plans were but she wanted his cock back inside of her, “Please, daddy. Can you put yourself back inside?” She wiggled her butt still in the air from side to side, “Need it. I’ll be good. I promise.”

Harry loved the sound of her begging and calling him daddy. He loved to be in control and Daisy was giving him control when she really didn’t have to. He’d honestly beg at her feet if she wanted him to, she had no idea how much power she truly had over him but he had a feeling if they continued to see one another she’d find out.

“Apologize first and then I’ll fill you up with my cock.” Harry demanded as he placed a hand around his cock and leaning back to rub his tip up and down her wetness teasingly. She mewled and pushed back, trying to make him enter her before she apologized so he brought his free hand down and swatted both her cheeks, twice each, the sound echoing through the room, “Nuh uh. Tell me how sorry you are for being a brat, Daisy. You don’t get my cock until you’ve made amends.”

Daisy was panting for him. She just needed to be fucked so she gave in, “Okay! I’m so sorry, Daddy. I’m going to be the best girl for you ever. Please…” she was once again cut off with the feeling of Harry using both hands to pull her cheeks apart as he plunged back into her where he belonged. He was thankful she apologized so he could enter her again – it was all he wanted. They both panted out and sighed in relief. Daisy still had her face into the mattress as Harry began his relentless pace once again. The sounds were pornographic with the squeak of the bed, the wet sound of skin slapping at each meeting of his thighs to her ass, their groans and cries of pleasure that were in sync with his deep thrusts. Harry held onto her hips as he drilled his thick cock into her and he had a beautiful view of her arsehole as well. He lifted one hand from her hip and squeezed at her butt cheek, wishing he could reach his mouth down to bite at it in that moment. He really wanted to bite into her thick ass and lick over her arsehole. So he did. He pulled out, to Daisy’s dismay and leaned down to bite at her butt cheek. Daisy yelped out a surprised laugh but then as soon as his tongue laved over her arsehole she went silent. He licked up from her cunt to her hole again and he kept his hands at her cheeks to have them spread for him. Lowering one hand, he placed his fingers into her cunt hole as he kept his tongue working over her other little hole and she let out a deep guttural moan that she didn’t know was possible. She had never had a man lick her tightest hole before. Daisy couldn’t possibly be anymore turned on than she was. She thought she must be dreaming because what Harry was doing to her was a dream. Her thighs quivered and she yanked her arms but found the belt was secure around her wrists and she whimpered and whined, “Harry! Fuck I love that. Oh yes… oh god…”

Harry could see she had been trying to pull her wrists free so he sat back up and pulled his fingers out of her cunt. He brought both hands over her arms and rubbed at them while still keeping his eyes on her beautiful round ass. He’d fuck her arsehole one day when she was ready, “Have you ever had your little hole here licked before, kitten?” He said as he tapped his wet finger over the hole.

“No. Never!” She was feeling some kind of urgency to come that she’d never felt before with any other man. She was feeling like he was torturing her but he was truly feeding her so well with his hands, mouth, body and dirty words she couldn’t complain. Where had men like him been before? She thought she could cry. “Please, Harry. Please…” she wasn’t exactly sure what she was begging for, other than just him really. She wanted him back inside of her but she wanted more than just that. She wanted him to come too. She wanted to feel it again.

Harry smoothed his hands over her ass and leaned in once more to kiss her cheeks, “Since you ask so nicely, I’ll give you what you want. But tell me, Daisy. What do you want?” He went back to teasingly rubbing at her folds with the tip of cock, pushing in slightly so Daisy could feel the stretch of her pussy accommodating his large head that was poking through her entry.

“I want you to fuck me so I can come and so you can come. Please, daddy. I’ll be good for you.”

Harry pushed in to the hilt roughly and began once again pounding himself into her with smooth languid movements that had them both panting and moaning. “Kitten, your pussy was made for me. You take me so well. God…” he reached his hand around to rub at her clit, while his other hand lay flat on the mattress to support his weight. She bucked back into him further when the pads of his fingers found her wet clit and he made quick work of getting her near the edge. His hips were going hard into her and she slowly began to wither into the mattress, having a hard time keeping her bum up until she was flat on her tummy and harry was pushing into her with his thighs on either side, fucking her into the mattress. However, he wanted her to come first and in this position he had to remove his fingers from her clit. He drove into her delicious pussy a few more times, holding her cheeks apart for easier entry, watching his cock slide into her in this position, stretching her little pussy, before reluctantly pulling out. Daisy whined and tried to move her head to look at him.

Harry removed the belt from her wrists with haste. He didn’t want her in pain with her hands behind her back anymore because he was about to flip her over again. When he tossed the belt to the floor Daisy immediately pulled her arms to her sides and pushed herself up to turn and look at Harry. She was worried for a moment that he was done with her.

“What’s happened? Was…” Harry grabbed her face and drew her into him for a deep kiss. He was so hard and so ready to come. She was a goddess and she loved what he loved in bed. He would need to be taking mental notes for later.

“Nothing’s wrong. I needed you to be comfortable for when you come on my cock and having your arms behind your back too long will hurt. Lie on your back now. I’m gonna make you come, darling.”

Daisy quickly scooted so she was sat on her bum and laid down onto her back immediately, spreading her legs for him. He was happy to have her so eager and unashamed. He ran his hands down her sides, groping at her breasts for a bit before taking his erect prick in one hand and guiding himself into her. He watched her face as he entered her and saw her expression change to bliss as he was sure his expression was the same. He lifted one of her legs so that it was over his shoulder, her other leg bent, foot flat on the mattress for her own leverage. He drew out nearly all the way before shoving himself in deeply and roughly. She yelped and gasped and he continued his sharp thrusts into her. Bringing one hand down to the mattress and the other to circle over her clit he started to lose his rhythm when he felt her insides squeeze hard around him. She felt too good. He needed her to come and fast because he was losing composure. Bucking his hips into her, every thrust was paradise to them both. Daisy’s eyes widened at the feel of him all the way in her tummy, pushing her guts to the side to accommodate his girth and length. She yelped in bliss at each deep push into her and his groans were explicit and sinful. She kept her eyes on him, on his beautiful face as he mumbled about how good she felt and he was losing his mind. His hardness was overwhelming her insides. It felt like nothing she’d ever experienced with any other man. Not only was Harry’s cock quite large, the way he worked her was indescribable.

“Daisy, I need you so bad. I want this every day. Holy fuck! Come for me baby…” Harry was gritting his teeth holding his orgasm back. Daisy could no longer keep her eyes open. She had tears running down her cheeks and her moans were a constant chant of Harry’s name and nonsense words. Harry’s thick cock drilled into Daisy and pushed at her sweetest spot inside over and over again. The bed groaned and creaked under Harry’s strong plunges into Daisy’s slick, hot cunt. Daisy finally gave into the pleasure and at Harry’s words, especially when he said he wanted it every day she let the heat take over her body. Her vision went white and her ears rang as she gasped and shouted upon finally releasing over Harry’s cock. Harry clenched his jaw and squeezed his eyes closed trying not to come inside of her, wanting her to finish fully. He continued circling his fingers over her clit as she thrashed and quivered and whined as she came. He’d never seen anything like it. She was a naughty angel, a beautiful devil, a perfect woman who could take his cock and she needed to take his cock.

When Daisy’d finally gotten through the orgasm Harry pulled out quickly and stroked himself a few times, coming in white hot spurts over her tummy and then angling himself to come over her wet cunt. He wanted to see his come dripping down her pussy, for his own selfish needs. He worked himself through his orgasm, one hand working his cock, the other flat on the mattress so he didn’t collapse onto her. Daisy had never seen a more beautiful view. Harry’s chest and face were red and shiny with sweat. His muscles were hard and rigid as he came. His face screwed up and mouth dropped open as he gasped and growled in his orgasm. It was the longest and most vocal orgasm he’d ever had.

He opened his eyes to see his come dripping over her cunt and he plunged his still hard cock back inside of her to press a little in, without a thought other than his natural, primal urge to see her with his come leaking out of her. He pulled back and pushed in once more before leaning back on his heals watching her come soaked pussy.

With Harry’s chest still heaving from the hard work he smirked at Daisy who was smirking back at him leaned back onto his heels, her legs still spread before him. Harry leaned in to kiss her lips slowly and sloppily. He sucked her tongue into his mouth and grasped the back of her neck to bring her head up closer. He kissed the outer edge of one side of her mouth and then the tip of her nose before sitting back again, still breathing hard.

“Do you have napkins in here or should I go into the kitchen and grab them? And maybe a snack?”

Daisy sat up and brushed her hair off her forehead, “I have some scraps of cloth in the chest under the quilt. I can get us something to snack on and bring it back up here.” She shifted her legs off the bed and tried standing on her wobbly legs when Harry shot up quickly and grasped at her waste to hold her upright.

“Let me just run down to the kitchen and grab something. Stay here. If I see one of your roommates I’ll charm her into letting me stay.” He smiled and chuckled. He would too. Harry had a way with people. Daisy knew her roommates likely wouldn’t care. They knew she’d had men over before and after their loud fucking for the past forty-five minutes there was no way they weren’t already apprised to what was happening in her room. Daisy shook her head and raised a finger.

“Let’s wipe ourselves and get dressed and we’ll both go down to the kitchen. I’ll show you what you can have for a snack. My roommates have items that are off limits and as much as they may not truly mind that you are here, they will not be happy with me if we were to eat their food.” Harry nodded in understanding and brought out a couple of scraps of cloth to clean themselves. Once they’d wiped themselves and put their clothes back on they made their way down to the kitchen.

The first floor had electricity that worked (unlike the bedrooms) and the stove kept it warm in the kitchen and sitting room. Daisy pulled out some bread, a scoop of butter, and a bunch of grapes. She pointed Harry to where the water pitcher was and he grabbed two cups. Making their way back up to her room, one of the sisters from the second floor opened the door and spotted Harry. Daisy stopped in her tracks when she realized they’d been found out. Daisy knew that men weren’t allowed but the sisters would also bring men in from time to time. Not as often as Daisy but still. They all had needs.

“Good evening.” Charlotte nodded in Harry’s direction and smiled at Daisy with a knowing look. Daisy quickly introduced the two with a sheepish smile knowing Charlotte full well knew what had happened upstairs. Charlotte was headed to the bathroom but she also timed her exit because wanted to see this Casanova that shook the whole house. He sounded very enthusiastic in bed but she could tell that Daisy was being pleased fully by the way they began with the gentle, sporadic creak of her bed and Daisy’s moans to hearing Daisy’s first orgasm and then to the faster and louder rhythmic squeaking of Daisy’s bed and both of their moans in unison to their final orgasms, with Daisy coming once again before Harry. Charlotte took in Harry’s broadness and handsome features and couldn’t find it in herself to scold Daisy at all. No wonder.

Daisy and Harry bid Charlotte good night and climbed the last few steps to the third floor before entering her room. They laid the snacks out on a tray and drank and ate while talking about the book Daisy had finished a few weeks back that she loaned to Hattie in the kitchen. To Daisy’s surprise, Harry had read it.

“I’d like to see you often. More often. Not just tonight. Can we do this again? Tomorrow? The next day? Whenever you want?” Harry was practically begging her. He wanted to do more with her. Explore more of her. Daisy was caught off guard by the subject change but eagerly nodded her head with a smile as she was chewing on a large grape.

“Yes. I’d like that. Really.” She felt herself blush and looked down at her cup of water before saying what she’d been wanting to say, knowing she needed to get it off her chest. “But, what about Connie? There were rumors that you’d been in her room every night of the week this week and last. Will you continue to go to her room as well?” Daisy gulped. It felt gross to think about Harry touching anyone else the way he’d just touched her.

Harry’s smile dropped and he blinked a few times. He knew he needed to address it with her sooner rather than later, and also bring up the real issue of Connie being very upset with him.

“No. I was approached by her some weeks ago and she was convenient and easy. Her bed soft, she fed me well. Yes, I was in her room every night and being able to wake up in the morning and go straight to work was yet another convenience but I won’t be going to her room anymore. No matter how easy or convenient. I’m not interested in her. I may sound awful saying that but it was just sex and convenience with Miss Archer. Nothing more.”

“And you’ll be missing out on all those meals? And how wonderful to wake up in a soft bed and not have to travel an hour each way to work every day? What makes you think you no longer want that?” Daisy was pressing him to tell her what she hoped he was alluding to. She wanted him to tell her that he only wanted her. He’d told her he was excited to see her and hadn’t been so excited to see a woman in some time and she believed him, but she wanted him to tell her that he would choose Daisy over Connie.

“And Connie is a well read, well-traveled woman of the world. You are seasonal. She could take you as a lover once your season is up you know. How comfortable life could be for you.” She sighed and watched as Harry chewed the last chunk of bread and shook his head with a frown.

“No. No. I don’t want a boring and comfortable life. Connie is boring. Nice, but rather boring. She was a willing participant but I need more than that. I need a companion. I want someone who understands me, someone I can talk to about anything. I like comforts, yes, but what is comfort when you are not happy? I want something else…” Harry moved his hand to cup Daisy’s knee and he leaned in to kiss her cheek. “I’m not saying that I know everything and I’ve figured my life out but I’d rather go to bed with you at night, wake up, walk an hour to work, then after work, walk an hour home and be with you again. You are not convenient or easy. But I never wanted convenient or easy. I like to work for things. Otherwise, I’m bored. I don’t know that I could become bored of that mouth,” he stared at her lips as he spoke, bringing his fingers up to her lips to brush over them. Harry swallowed and then brought his eyes up to hers once again.

“Look, Daisy. I like your company and I want to have sex with you again and again and again, if you’re okay with that. I make no promises but I want to get to know you. Can we do that? Can we learn about one another and then figure out everything? That’s what I want. I have a feeling that you and I will get on very well.”

Daisy smiled brightly and licked her lips, “Okay. I think that sounds perfect, Harry. So every night? Should I go to yours some nights? I’m sure you want to go home once in a while.”

Harry nodded, “Sure. We can figure that out. Um, there is another thing I need to tell you. It’s about Connie actually…” Harry looked down gathered his thoughts for a second before continuing, “… she was very upset with me today when I told her I was no longer going to go to her room. She would invite me every evening and we’d make a plan but today, when she came to me I told her it couldn’t happen again. I didn’t tell her why, only that I was not interested. But then she accused me of denying her because she saw us together, when you handed me your address. She tried to take it out of my pocket but I stopped her and she was very upset over it. I didn’t admit to anything except that I did have something in my pocket from you because she saw that and there was no denying our interaction. But that’s all she knows! Only that you’d given me something and, well, anyway… somehow she put it together that you’re the reason I no longer would be going to her. She doesn’t know for sure that’s the reason but she’s smart enough to have figured it out anyway. I won’t admit to it and it’s probably best if you don’t either.” Harry watched as Daisy’s face reflected the worry that he felt. Connie could be a problem for them. Connie could have Daisy fired and that would be terrible. Daisy nodded as he spoke and blinked a few times in surprise. She hadn’t considered that anyone in the house would care to notice two workers having a quick, short interaction.

“Okay. I see. I will keep my distance from you during work. We shouldn’t talk or be seen together, especially if Connie is around. Um… in the servant’s quarters in the closet in the hall near Missus Smith’s bedroom there are supplies. I enter the closet a few times each day and it wouldn’t be unheard of for you to go into the supplies closet from time to time as well seeing that Victor goes in occasionally. Maybe not everyday but every few days you might need a bandage, or napkin, cleaning solution, things like that. We can leave a note for one another inside of the napkin holder – at the very bottom, under all the napkins. If we need to communicate anything.”

“What if I need to say something to you quickly? Is there anyone we can trust?” Harry sipped his water.

“Hattie. Madame Hattie, in the kitchen. I give her books and she likes me a lot. I’ll bet she’d like you just as much. She’d never tattle. She was the one who snuck me the cinnamon roll you ate half of the first day I met you.” Daisy smiled at the memory which seemed like ages ago now. “I can tell her to give you a message. Connie, or anyone would never assume you and Hattie are having a thing.” They both laughed. “Hattie may not be able to give a message quickly but she could certainly relay a message in good time.”

The two made plans for the remainder of the week to meet up each night and once their plans were in place they discussed their pasts, their friends, their family. They spoke for hours about nothing and everything laying on Daisy’s bed on their sides facing one another. Harry rubbing his palm over Daisy’s hip and Daisy running her fingers through Harry’s dark curls, their legs intertwined. Harry was unlike any many she’d ever met. He made her laugh and made her think. He excited her and he didn’t mind a long conversation. In turn, Harry wanted to learn everything about Daisy, even if it meant a pause from sex. As much as he wanted to be buried inside of her once again, he wanted to know her, and kiss her lips, and stare into her deep blue eyes as she spoke about her favorite musician and how her sister was her favorite person in the world. He listened to her talk about her favorite flower, and where she preferred to buy butter and why.

Harry couldn’t say that he was in love but he could feel himself falling and fast. He was concerned that Daisy would break his heart someday but well, that was life wasn’t it? And this life is nothing if not worth living to the fullest. He wouldn’t miss a chance to love a woman like Daisy.

Check out my masterlist if you enjoyed this! 😘

Chapter 8*

#harry fic #harry smut #harry styles #harry styles smut #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fanfic

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the-head-ancho-chilli · 2 years

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General Gyomei Headcannons

I was talking with a friend about how Gyomei so I thought that’d I would share some headcannons (modern-ish au). Enjoy ^^

Word count: 800~

Starting this off, this man gives awkward dad energy

Normally has no idea what he’s doing

He can provide for physical needs no problem, but quality time isn’t normally his forte

He will gently knock on your door and ask if you want to go to grocery shopping with him

Will buy ANYTHING you mention to him

The ice cream sandwiches you said you had at a friend’s house? Has a whole year supply

Did you recently start a series that you can’t seem to tear yourself away from? He will purchase the first merchandise he sees

Gyomei will sometimes come home with a bunch of stuff that reminds him of you

Usually he gives them to you, but sometimes enjoys having a small memento of you ^^

Gyomei doesn’t show it but he loves watching you have fun with your hobbies, trying not to disturb you while you’re in your headspace

Conversations with him are kinda dry because of how quiet he is

Ironically he seems to know a lot of gossip, but usually minds his own business

Gyomei looks very intense but is actually a gentle giant

If he bumps into you he will gently lift you up, turn and place you down out of the way

“I’m so sorry about that, I hope I didn’t scare you” He says while patting your head in an attempt to comfort you

If he were to give you a lesson or teach you anything, he would try sharing different mindfulness

Gyomei doesn’t expect you to be incredibly open with your issues or personal stuff, but he would at least like to show you some resources that might help you

He’s a busy man so he doesn’t have many hobbies, but Gyomei enjoys pottery

Once made these little snails that you keep on a shelf in your room

This man 100% wears cargo shorts and Hawaiian shirts, look me in the eyes and tell me otherwise

I feel like Gyomei’s biggest insecurity is his issues with using and recognize body language and nonverbal communication

It’s not just that he’s blind and would most likely not be able to see the fists you make when your annoyed, it’s also how he portrays himself

If he’s slumped over too much, he can look exhausted and unwilling to participate in a conversation

But if his posture is too upright, he appears to be in deep focus when in reality he’s thinking about dinner plans

Gyomei’s Resting Bjtch Face TM isn’t the worst out of the Hashira, but it’s bad enough to let anyone believe that he’s not exactly the approachable type

In reality, he feels sometimes isolated because of how many people avoid him due to his intimidating appearance

He enjoys getting to know animals because they cure them whatever loneliness he’s feeling

HE LOVES CATS! Cats are his favourite animal by far, big or small

Speaking of cats, I can definitely imagine him keeping a Persian Cat as a pet

I spoke enough about good habits, but Gyomei definitely has some bad habits

Like I swear this man oversalts his food AND STILL keep a salt shaker at the dinner table

“It could use a bit more salt” dude your steak is already seasoned what are you doing

It would be funny if you got him a salt lamp

Going back to bad habits with body language, Gyomei sometimes just doesn’t answer your questions

You’ll ask him something like “Hey, should we go on a walk right now or maybe later on?” And you will just get nothing but silence

Again, he’s probably just thinking about something mundane

But he usually doesn’t give verbal or physical indicators because of how he struggles with body language

“Umm, are you ok?” “Yes of course, why do you ask? A walk sounds great right about now”

It’s manageable, but yet ever so slightly annoying

He certainly doesn’t mean to ignore you

Changing to more general stuff again, Gyomei would be the king of textures

He really values the physical feel of some things in his life like household objects and cleaning products, so nothing would feel even just a bit unbearable

He’s a microfibre cloth hater, can’t stand them

Loves getting his hands manicured

Gyomei’s hands may be calloused, but they’re still pleasant to hold and we’ll maintained

Gyomei’s favourite form of affection is pats of any kind

Head pats for comfort, shoulder pats for a accomplishments, you name it

Hugs from Gyomei are very dad-like too

He would crouch down a little and let you wrap your arms around him, as he slowly rubs your back

“Here, you can hold my hand. Take as long as you need”

Overall, as long as you tell him what you need, Gyomei has your back

꒷꒦˚︶︶꒦꒷︶꒷꒦˚ ꒷꒦˚︶︶꒦꒷︶꒷꒦˚ ꒷꒦˚︶︶꒦꒷︶꒷꒦˚

Hopefully all of you enjoyed this! I’m kinda new to posting so I’m not sure if I’ll keep this format, so let me know what you all think! Feel free to use these headcannons in a platonic or romantic sense, either is suitable. My suggestion box is open so feel free to submit any requests ^^

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #kny #kny blog #demon slayer blog #gyomei x reader #kny fanfic #kny hashira #kny headcanons #kny gyomei #gyomei himejima #demon slayer gyomei #demon slayer hashira #demon slayer headcanons #fluff #demon slayer fluff #kny fluff

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baobikhangloi · 11 months

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A brief history of colors and some popular pigments

Black pigment

Black pigment has a long history, starting with charcoal paintings in Stone Age caves. Through centuries of research, people have known how to change the burning conditions and choose the type of wood to customize the shade of this black. Coal can be pressed into a dry bar, or it can be ground into a powder and mixed with water or other liquids to produce the black dye that is now known as carbon black, with the pigment code PBk 7.

During the renaissance, artists often worked with black obtained from the soot of oil lamps, known as lamp black pigment – PBk 6. This pigment has a matte black color with a slightly cool tint. The lamp black is also used in Egyptian tombs and murals, replacing charcoal, which is denser but less pure.

Ivory black or bone black was originally created by boiling the crumbs obtained during the ivory making process to remove fat and gelatine, then ground and concentrated into a harder and coarser form to produce black. The production of ivory pigments was stopped in the 1930s, and today the pigment is mainly made from animal bones, with the color index name PBk 9. This pigment is semi-transparent, has a tinting strength is lower than that of carbon-based black pigments, but has a unique feature of deep yellow or brown undertones.

PBk 11 is an inorganic iron oxide pigment, which is different from all the black pigments mentioned above because there is no carbon in the composition. PBk 11 has a very high color fastness and is almost indestructible. In a mixture of colors, it can easily overwhelm all other colors. PBK 11 is also known as Mars black, named after Mars, the god of war in Greek mythology.

white pigment

The first white substance in history is thought to be natural calcium carbonate chalk, which is an exceptionally soft limestone, formed from the shells and bones of microscopic organisms deposited and compacted over millions of years. The calcium carbonate (CaCO3) that gives the white color can also be obtained from eggshells, oyster shells, ... In European literature, the term "shell white" is often used to refer to these ancient whites. Natural white pigment with calcium carbonate composition is still used to this day, has the pigment code PW 18.

The first synthetic white pigment produced on a commercial scale was lead white (PW 1), which dates back to around 300 BC. Despite its proven toxicity, white lead remained in widespread use until the late 19th century, when the superior zinc white and titanium white appeared and replaced it. There are many documents detailing how to make white lead. In the oldest process, lead rods were exposed to vinegar fumes in sealed clay pots. These pots were buried in manure or tree bark to maintain the temperature for several months so that the lead converted to white lead.

Zinc white (PW 4) with zinc oxide composition (ZnO) is produced by burning zinc in an oxidizing medium or zinc ore in a reducing medium. This pigment has the special property of being able to emit yellow fluorescence under long-wave ultraviolet light. Zinc whites are not toxic, nor are they as clearly affected by hydrogen sulfide as lead whites, but their whiteness is clearly inferior.

In 1908 in New York, a metallurgist named Auguste Rossi invented a brilliant white pigment, titanium dioxide (Titanium White - PW 6). This pigment is extremely stable, it is not affected by heat, dilute acids or alkalis, light or hydrogen sulfide. Most importantly, titanium white reflects about 97% of light, making it the best white ever known. Because of that, it quickly became popular in many fields. Titanium dioxide also provides UV absorption, which greatly improves weather resistance and durability for outdoor applications.

The chemical classification of titanium dioxide, which for many years was considered no problem, is even widely used in the pharmaceutical and cosmetic industries. However, they have become the subject of heated discussion over the past few years, when a European Union authority has changed the way they are classified and evaluated. Titanium dioxide (TiO2) particles with an aerodynamic diameter ≤ 10 μm are considered hazardous when inhaled.

Before titanium white appeared, the dominance in the segment belonged to Lithopone white (PW 5). They once accounted for 60% of the white pigment market, outperforming both lead white and zinc white combined. Lithopone is moderately strong in blends, not as strong as Titanium white, but not as gentle as Zinc white either. For those who are concerned about the durability of zinc white, but don't like the opacity of titanium white, PW 5 can be a good alternative.

Red pigment

Red is a color associated with love, excitement, and danger. This color also symbolizes good luck in many Eastern cultures. There are many red pigments that have been found and present in the pigment database.

The earliest red pigment discovered by mankind was red ocher, which is clay that has been colored by rusted (oxidized) iron. The red iron oxide pigment consists of the mineral hematite with some minor minerals such as clay, chalk and quartz. Red ocher differs from yellow ocher and brown ocher in that they do not contain H2O in their chemical structure. Today, synthetic iron oxide red pigments have the pigment code PR 101. They are chemically very similar to natural red iron oxide (PR 102), but transparent and more vibrant in color.

Lead red (minium) is an ancient pigment that is considered to be one of the first synthetic man-made pigments. Red lead is made by heating white lead to oxidize it at high temperatures. They are still used to this day, in anti-rust paints for steel structures, especially used a lot on ships.

The famous Chinese red color dating back to the fourth century BC is “Chusha” (Cinnabar), which is used to make paints, lacquers, ceramic glazes and calligraphy ink. Many people mistakenly believe that cinnabar is a plant because it is also a medicine in traditional medicine, but in fact, cinnabar is a mineral with the main component mercury sulfide (HgS). Artificial cinnabar, used by the Romans since the Middle Ages. This pigment is named Vermillion, has a color index name PR 106. Vermillion is much more vibrant than natural cinnabar, but both are quite toxic.

Besides the red pigments obtained from minerals, history also records some organic red pigments obtained from plants such as kermes tree, brazilwood or some palm species in Asia. The Incas also had their own red pigment for dyeing their robes, obtained from the Cochineal - a beetle that feeds on cactus.

The age-old reds made from lead and mercury, though toxic, have been commonly used throughout human history. The real alternatives have only appeared for more than a century, with the development of modern chemistry.

Red Cadmium (PR 108) is a dual product of zinc ore. PR 108 can include many different shades of red, for example Cadmium Red Light leans more towards orange, while Cadmium Red Deep is slightly maroon.

Naphthol red pigments PR 5, PR 9, PR 112, PR 170 and PR 188 are a large group of synthetic organic red pigments. While PR 5 can serve as the primary, medium-tone red in the palette, PR 9 is more of an orange hue. PR112 has a soft bright orange color, PR 170 includes Naphthol Red Light with an orange-red color and Naphthol Red Deep leaning towards purple.

Alizarin Crimson (PR 83) has a deep, cold red color and has high tinting intensity. Mixing PR 83 with Viridian Blue (PG 18) or Phthalo Blue (PG 7) creates a very deep black. PR 122 – Quinacridone Magenta is a vibrant red with a blue tint that makes them almost purple. The same Quinacridone family also has a red color PR 202 which is a bit greener than PR 122, PR 206 - Quinacridone Maroon has a red color that turns brown, while PR 207 - Quinacridone Scarlet is bright coral red.

Yellow pigment

Of all the pigment groups, yellow is the largest and most diverse because there are many substances in nature that can produce this color.

The oldest yellow pigment in prehistoric cave paintings, is yellow ocher, also crumbly clay colored by iron oxides. They are still in use today, with the pigment code PY 43 for natural yellow iron oxide and PY 42 for synthetic yellow ocher. Both natural ocher yellow and synthetics are both great colors in art, as they will produce very natural looking greens when mixed with blue pigments.

In early civilizations in Asia, Egypt and Greece, human used a yellow substance called Orpiment, which was synthesized by subliming a mixture of sulfur and a small amount of arsenic oxide. The Babylonians used Napoli yellow, which was prepared by heating a mixture of oxides of lead and antimony. Napoli yellow currently has a pigment code of PY 41.

Another well-known yellow is Indian yellow, which is said to be made from the bladder gravel of cows eating mango leaves. However, the original Indian yellow color dating from the 15th century no longer exists. Today's Indian yellow is Diarylide yellow (PY 83).

The 19th century saw the introduction of more modern inorganic pigments such as chromium yellow (lead chromate), cadmium gold (PY 35 and PY 37), nickel gold (PY 53 and PY 150), …

Some other yellow pigments include: Hansa yellow group (PY 3) with bright greenish yellow, PY 65 with deep yellow and PY 97 medium yellow, Barium Chromat lemon yellow (PY 31), Strontium chromate (PY32), cobalt yellow (PY 40), arylide yellow (PY73 and PY74), Isoindolinone yellow (PY 110), Diazo yellow (PY 128), Quinophthalone yellow (PY 138), Benzimidazolone yellow (PY 151, PY154 and PY 154). PY175), …

Blue pigment

Blue includes sky blue and navy blue which are very rare colors in nature. Less than a tenth of plants have this color, and in animals it's even rarer. Even if they're blue, it's not because they actually have a blue pigment, but they've actually done light tricks to achieve.

In plants, blue color is achieved by mixing or altering natural pigments, most commonly by altering the acidity on red anthocyanin pigments such as in canaries, bellflowers, and hydrangeas.

Instead of mixing or changing pigment, the blue color in many animals is caused by structures on their bodies that are able to change the wavelength of light. For example, the Morpho butterfly is blue because the scales of its wings are ridged, causing light to bend, making the only wavelength of light it reflects is blue. The only exception in nature is the Obrina Olivewing butterfly, the only animal known to have a real blue pigment.

The raw material of mankind's first green pigment was "lapis lazuli", a precious stone originating from mines in Afghanistan. "Lapis" means "stone" in Latin, "lazuli" comes from the Persian word "lazuward", meaning "blue". The blue created from this stone is called Ultramarine Blue, is a most perfect pigment, with its qualities said to be unique and unsurpassable. The color index name PB 29 is assigned to both natural and synthetic Ultramarine blue pigments, but today's natural Ultramarine Blue is actually exhausted. Lapis lazuli contains sulfur anions held in an ordered lattice. These sulfur anions have charged particles that move from molecule to molecule, traveling along the surface, helping to create a spatial effect and a deep blue color.

The synthetic blue pigment Ultramarine was discovered in 1826 by the French chemist Jean-Baptiste Guimet. He made a pigment chemically identical to lapis lazuli, by heating kaolinite, sodium carbonate, and sulfur. Synthetic ultramarine usually has a warm red-blue color, which is even more vivid than natural ultramarine blue but is not as pure and has the same depth.

Lapis lazuli is very precious and expensive. Faced with the need for an available and affordable blue pigment, the Egyptians invented the world's first synthetic pigment: Egyptian blue. Calcium copper silicate is calcined at extremely high temperatures, producing a blue-green compound resembling glass. When ground into a powder and mixed with a binder, they create a pigment that persists over time.

Across the ocean, the ancient Maya also found their own color of blue: Maya blue. Scientists are all confused about the origin of this brilliant blue color. It was not until the 1960s that scientists were able to determine the origin of this pigment. It is made by mixing a rare clay (attapulgite or palygorskite) with a dye from a plant in the indigo family.

In 1704 in Berlin, the first modern pigment was accidentally discovered by a dye maker named Diesbach: Prussian Blue (PB 27), also known as Berlin blue. Pigments made from iron ferrocyanide quickly became popular, simply because they were much cheaper than the earlier blues.

Phthalocyanine dark blue was first sold commercially in 1935 under the trade name Monastral Blue or Phthalocynanine Blue. This is a transparent, highly pigmented and reliable blue pigment. PB 15 is divided into 2 types: PB 15:1 – Phthalocyanine Blue Red Shade is more red and warmer, while PB 15:3 – Phthalocyanine Green Shade has a shade closer to green.

Mangan blue (PB 33) is produced by heating a mixture of sodium sulfate, potassium permanganate and barium nitrate at high temperature. This pigment is inert, unaffected by light, heat, acids or alkalis. Manganese blue pigment has now been discontinued due to concerns about the environmental impact of the manufacturing process.

The most common blue color is cobalt blue (cobalt aluminum oxide), which includes a range of pigments such as PB 28 which has a slightly greenish blue tint, PB 29 which is a bit darker, PB 35 which is sky blue, PB 36 is blue with a green tint, while PB 74 contains a little bit of red. Various cobalt minerals have been used since ancient times to color glass and ceramics, but the first synthetic cobalt blue pigment was discovered in 1802 by Louis Jacques Thénard. He discovered that the combination of cobalt oxide and aluminum oxide produced a highly stable blue pigment. Of all the blue pigments, cobalt blue is the only one with opacity.

It was not until 2009, more than two centuries after the last blue was discovered (cobalt blue), that humans found a new blue pigment, and also the last blue pigment up to the present time. It was YinMn Blue (PB 86), which was discovered by chance by a graduate student at Oregon State University. This pigment gets its name from the elements within it including Yttrium (Y), Indium (In) and Manganese (Mn).

#plastic #colour

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